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Why did Michal despise David in her heart?

May 21st, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Q. I need some help. II Samuel 6:16 says Michal “despised him in her heart” (NKJV)/”was disgusted with him” (TEV). My wife has asked me why Michal’s attitude changed towards David. What happened? My research has not given me an adequate explanation. So, I come to my resident rabbi for help.

A. Dear Reverend Don,

As per our earlier conversation on this subject, David never particularly cared for the royal pomp that went with being king. In his heart of hearts, David was and remained a shepherd throughout most of his life. Now the term b’zâ is rendered as “despised,” but the basic meaning of its root connotes, “to accord little worth to something.” While this action may or may not include overt feelings of contempt or scorn, the biblical usage indicates that the very act of undervaluing something or someone implies contempt. Thus both translations seem correct.

Michal’s father may not have been as spontaneous as David, but he always conducted himself with royal courtesy-and it was this quality that Michal missed so dearly after her father was killed. After Saul gave her to Paltiel, David insisted that she be returned to him; this passage might suggest.

Yes, political marriages reflect a certain cynicism on the part of David, who probably never felt that seriously attracted to Michal, but married her in order to improve his reputation and status among the royal families and local dignitaries. In her eyes, Saul was the true king; he was a man who behaved as a king should, but David-he was a commoner who behaved like a commoner even when he was king; Saul would never have acted so disrespectfully in front of the Ark of the Covenant, but David had no sense of propriety whatsoever. What chutzpa! David went too far this time! (Rashi).

Michal never bore an heir for David, which could suggest that she really stayed aloof from him, or that he avoided her because their relationship was tortured and loveless. Like Bill Clinton, King David had some real difficulties with self-control. I suspect this was the primary reason why Michal disrespected her husband.

Chabad’s Reaction to Pope Benedict XVI’s Visit to Israel

May 11th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Rabbi Sholom DovBer Wolpe, leader of Chabad’s messianist faction in Israel, condemns the Church and Pope. As Israel prepares for Benedict XVI’s historic visit, head of SOS Israel believes ‘rabbis must not meet with the pope because the Catholic Church tortured and murdered Jews and helped the Nazis annihilate the Jewish people’ (Efrat Weiss, Ynet).

Question: What is your opinion about this reaction?

Answer: Rabbi Wolpe is an outspoken Habad rabbi who believes that the deceased Rebbe of Lubavitch is going to come back from the dead and redeem the Jewish people. His perspectives on a variety of Jewish and political issues are regarded by many Orthodox and non-Orthodox Jews as provocative-even fanatical.

Personally, I think you need to look back at the eulogies Jewish leaders gave in honor of Pope Pius XII shortly after his demise.

Numerous Jewish leaders, including Albert Einstein, Israeli Prime Ministers Golda Meir and Moshe Sharett, and Chief Rabbi Isaac Herzog (who was a brilliant rabbinic scholar), expressed their public gratitude to Pius XII, praising him as a “righteous gentile,” who had saved thousands of Jews during the Holocaust.

In his meticulously researched and comprehensive 1967 book, Three Popes and the Jews, the Israeli historian and diplomat Pinchas Lapide, who had served as the Israeli Counsel General in Milan, and had spoken with many Italian Jewish Holocaust survivors who owed their life to Pius, provided the empirical basis for their gratitude, concluding that Pius XII “was instrumental in saving at least 700,000, but probably as many as 860,000 Jews from certain death at Nazi hands.” To this day, the Lapide volume remains the definitive work, by a Jewish scholar, on the subject.

“December of 1940, in an article published in Time magazine, the renowned Nobel Prize winning physicist Albert Einstein, himself a Jewish refugee from Nazi Germany, paid tribute to the moral “courage” of Pope Pius and the Catholic Church in opposing “the Hitlerian onslaught” on liberty:

“Being a lover of freedom, when the Nazi revolution came in Germany, I looked to the universities to defend it, knowing that they had always boasted of their devotion to the cause of truth; but, no, the universities immediately were silenced. Then I looked to the great editors of the newspapers, whose flaming editorials in days gone by had proclaimed their love of freedom: but they, like the universities, were silenced in a few short weeks. Only the Catholic Church stood squarely across the path of Hitler’s campaign for suppressing the truth. I never had any special interest in the Church before, but now I feel a great affection and admiration because the Church alone has had the courage and persistence to stand for intellectual truth and moral freedom. I am forced thus to confess that what I once despised, I now praise unreservedly.” Read more…

Why did 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiba die?

May 1st, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Why did 24,000 students of Rabbi Akiba die [1]?

This is a question that has always fascinated me since the days I was a young rabbinical student in Israel. According to rabbinical tradition, it is because R. Akiba’s students failed to display proper respect to one another. Another tradition claims that R. Akiba’s students died because of a plague that took place during the the first day of the Omer [barley offering that began on the second day of Passover], ca. 130 CE.

Of all the explanations that seems to make the most amount of sense, Rabbi Akiba not only offered moral support to Bar Kochba, a man he believed to be the Messiah, he also encouraged his vast number of students to join in the apocalyptic battle against the Evil Empire of his day—Rome, as was first suggested by Rav Hai Gaon back in the 9th century C.E. Read more…

Grieving for a non-Jewish spouse or parent

April 11th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

An interesting but poignant incident took place last week on one of my favorite websites where the participants were discussing the new Orthodox Siddur (prayer book) that the Chief Rabbi of Britain recently wrote. The participants made comparisons to the Artscroll prayer book and the discussions suddenly took an unexpected turn—one that was surprising and tragic.

One of the forum’s participants named Mordechai wrote the following message about a conversation he had with a well-known Chabad rabbi in Florida.

My soul-mate and dear wife of more than thirty years passed away last Thursday after a brutal eight year fight with cancer. This has been devastating.

I approached a Chabad Rabbi just a few hours ago with the following question: “What Jewish prayers do you recommend for my wife; she was not Jewish.” To which he replied: “There are no Jewish prayers for her. Don’t do it again!”

These words sliced through me like a finely honed Samurai Sword. Momentarily a vision of a dead rabbi appeared before me. But with restraint, I said: “Rabbi thank you for your thoughts and have a good Pesach and left.”

So it goes. Well is it so then that our grand religion has no prayers for the non-Jewish deceased spouse?

As I read this heart rendering message, I thought about Martin Buber’s incredible little book entitled, “Meetings,” a book where Buber tells tales about serendipitous conversations with ordinary people that proved to be spiritual messages from God. According to Buber’s concept of the “I and Thou,” God is always triangulated in every human relationship. How we relate to the Other person we unexpectedly meet ultimately says something about our relationship with God. Although the topic of the original thread was an important and fascinating, I felt a voice inside me commanding me to offer words of consolation that might possibly soothe a grieving soul who was crying out for help. Technology has a great potential for holiness, provided it is used in a constructive and compassionate way. Mordechai’s experience is visceral reminder that one cannot ignore the pain of the Other, and conduct business as usual. After he thanked me for my words of condolence, I wrote back: Read more…

What is the origin of the term “kosher”? What does it take to make an animal “kosher”?

March 31st, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments


It may seem strange to the reader, but the term “kosher” only appears twice in the entire Bible (and in the only place where it appears, it does not pertain to food!! Originally, “kasher” meant “to be right and proper” (as in Esther 8:5), or “to prosper” (cf. Ecc. 11:6). As a noun, it connotes, “skill,” or “success” (Ecc. 2:21; 4:4), or “advantage.” The term originally came to designate proper and fit food only during the rabbinic era that is in accordance to the rules of ritual purity. Many of the basic laws of permitted and forbidden animals can be found in the Book of Leviticus (11:1–23, 29ff.) and in the Book of Deuteronomy (14:3–21). One of the best known restrictions is the law forbidding the cooking a calf in its mother’s milk (Exod. 23:19; 34:26; Deut. 14:21). Jewish thinkers beginning with Philo of Alexandria (ca. 1st century) suggest that the reason is so that we will learn to respect the importance of motherhood. God intended for the milk to enhance the life of the infant animal—and not so that we may use it as a condiment for dinner!

Two characteristics are necessary for an animal to be considered “kosher” for consumption: Kosher animals must be cloven-hooves and chew their cud. By this definition, not only were the ox, sheep, and goat permitted, but so are the seven kinds of venison (Deut. 14:5). Animals failing to fulfill these criteria were considered unfit as food. With respect to fish, only those with both fins and scales might be eaten. Among the insects, only certain types of locusts may be eaten. Curiously, bee honey is the only insect product that is permitted for people to eat. It is vital to remember that in addition to the kosher types of animals, the blood of these creatures must never be consumed. Jewish Law requires that the blood of a kosher animal always be drained; this practice was followed by salting the meat to remove any residual blood.

Additionally, the sciatic nerve and its adjoining blood vessels may not be eaten. Due to the expense and time in removing this nerve, butchers outside of Israel do not bother with the hind-quarters and sell it to non-kosher butchers. There certain kind of fat known as chelev, which surrounds the vital organs and the liver, and may not be eaten. Kosher butchers remove this. In the days of the Temple, such fat was dedicated to the altar for God. In the Talmud, there was some disagreement whether chicken should be considered “meat” or like fish. In practice, pious Jews treat chicken like meat despite the fact that one cannot cook a chicken in its mother’s milk!

People often wonder why swine is forbidden. Some scholars like Maimonides, believed it was because of its filthy habits. During medieval era in Europe, pigs were used to clean up human waste products, which they relished as food. The first century Jewish Greek philosopher, Philo of Alexandria, argued that pork is the most tasty and most delicious of all meats. Moses made it forbidden so that his descendants might learn self-control. Of course, one might wonder: How did Philo really know that pork is “the most delicious of meats”? Enquiring minds really want to know!

Kosher animals have to be slaughtered in a certain prescribed way before they can be eaten. The Torah stresses that one may not eat an animal that died because of natural causes (Deut. 12:21), nor may one consume an animal that was attacked and (or) killed by a predator. Such animals were considered to be treifah “torn”, and are considered unfit for human consumption because of the possibility of disease.

The ritual slaughterer is called the Shochet. The method of slaughter involves using an extremely sharp razor-edged blade. The Shochet makes a quick, deep stroke across the throat with a perfectly sharp blade with no nicks or unevenness. This method is relatively painless, and causes unconsciousness within two seconds if the stroke is properly performed. Some kosher houses shackle cows and oxen, and this method is gradually disappearing from Kosher slaughter houses because it (1) is cruel to animals (2) dangling from the shackles inevitably causes fractures and broken limbs, which always render the animal unkosher. The expression “Glatt Kosher” refers to the condition of the animals’ lungs as being free from any kind of adhesion that may stem from disease or a wound. In popular nomenclature, “Glatt Kosher” usually connotes the highest kind of Kashrut.

Rabbi Dr. Michael Leo Samuel

Who did Jacob really wrestle with in the Bible?

March 29th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Q. I’m confused about who wrestled with Jacob the night before he was to meet with his brother Esau. My NIV bible states it was GOD himself. My Chumash (Sages commentary) states it may have been Satan that wrestled with Jacob. If it was Satan why did he give Jacob the name Israel and why would Jacob ask Satan to bless him? If it was GOD, what was the purpose for the confrontation?

A. Good question.

Without a doubt, this section is indeed one of the most difficult to understand in the Bible.

The identity of Jacob’s assailant has been the subject of over 2000 years of speculation. Jacob didn’t know who ambushed him. He assumed it was a man; from Jacob’s view, his assailant could have been anyone — maybe even Esau himself! As the wrestling match continued, Jacob finally realized that he was fighting with an angel. The Midrash identifies the mysterious assailant as the guardian spirit of Esau.

The battle between Jacob and the angel represents the archetypal struggle between good and evil. Some of the Hellenistic Judaic thinkers suggests this entire episode reflected an inner struggle within Jacob’s own soul, and may have even occurred in a dream or vision. Given the surreal nature of the narrative I think this clearly was the case. Jacob’s struggle with the angel in terms of a visionary experience.

God wanted Jacob to know that Esau was not his real enemy, rather, Jacob’s himself! The angelic being Jacob wrestled was really a symbolization of himself. Once he learned to resolve his inner conflict, dealing with Esau would prove quite easy.

When the Sages described the mysterious assailant as Satan, they wished to convey an important symbolic lesson. In the Tanakh, Satan is not an enemy of God, nor is he a “fallen angel” — such a notion is a Christian myth. God uses Satan to test the moral caliber of a man, and in this case,

Again, let me reiterate that God uses Satan to help Jacob realize that his real enemy is none other than himself!

Sun Tzu (6th–5th century BCE.) may have expressed this idea best in his Art of War, (ch. 3, Axiom:):

“If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.”

Rabbi Dr. Michael Samuel

The Inconspicuous Messiah

March 24th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments
As Napoleon marched triumphantly through Europe, the Jews of the ghetto felt joyous by his arrival. Was Napoleon really the Messiah? Many of our ancestors thought so; but again, that was before Napoleon got defeated at the Battle of Waterloo. And then there was Franklin Delano Roosevelt better known to my parent’s generation as “FDR.” Many Jews living back in the gloomy days of WWII believed that FDR might have been the Messiah, but that was before we learned that FDR decided not to bomb Hitler’s crematoria.

To our surprise, the Messiah, it turns out, didn’t dress like an emperor, nor did he appear as a president. In Jewish tradition, the reality of deliverance comes disguised. At the Passover Seder, Jews express hope that the following year will be redemptive in character. By opening the door for Elijah, we keep the flame of hope alive that redemption is near at hand. Yet, for all the fanfare about the Messiah, the redeemer of Israel’s birth is uneventful and anonymous. Yet, curiously, he walks hidden among us.

Read more…

Respecting the Human Face

March 14th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Martin Gilbert in his book on the Holocaust tells the story about a young sixteen year-old named Zvi Michalowski. On September 27, 1941, Zvi was supposed to be executed with 3,000 other Lithuanian Jews. He had fallen into the pit a fraction of a second before the Nazis shot their guns. That night, he crept out of the pit, and fled to the closest village. He knocked on a door of a peasant, who saw this naked man, covered with blood. He begged the elderly widow and said: “I am Lord Jesus Christ. I came down from the cross. Look at me—the blood, the pain, the suffering of the innocent. Let me in.” The widow threw herself at his feet and begged for forgiveness and she hid him for three days. The young man managed to survive as a partisan (The Holocaust, [London and New York, 1986]) 200f.

One cannot help but compare this anecdote to the passage one of the most famous of the pastoral parables:

“You may remember, I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me’ ” (Matthew 25:35-40).

What does the human face say to me when no words are ever verbally said? The human face says, “Look at me; treat me with humanity; I am like you.” In the parable of Jesus, the 1st century rabbi gently reminds his disciples that kindness and compassion must find tangible expression in the language of good deeds.


When we look at the children who Hitler killed in the millions, what do their faces say to us from their pictures? The human face, as you know, is capable of almost infinite expressions; the face is the mirror to the soul. According to the French philosopher and Holocaust survivor Emmanuel Levinas, the human face always challenges us to respond ethically toward others. No commandment even need be given, when I see the human face looking back at me, I cannot deny his humanity without destroying my own in the process. In the age of push-button warfare, it is so easy to kill millions without ever having to look at the human face that commands us to be aware of our mutual humanity.

Remembering the victims of the Holocaust must be more than a brief recollection. The act of memory in the Bible is always dynamic as it is transformative. How we remember the death of the six million is important, for as the philosopher George Santayana said, “He who forgets the past is condemned to repeat it.” But are we really faced with a similar menace like the Jews were in the days that led to the Holocaust? Most certainly!

The ghost of Adolf Hitler is alive in well in Iran’s dictator Mahmud Ahmadinejad—whose Holocaust denial is has made him a cult-hero to many of his fellow religious fanatics—even as he develops the nuclear weapons to someday create a new Holocaust in Israel. The world cannot afford to take a passive or indifferent attitude toward the one country that has done more to export international terror than any other terrorist organization in the last several decades. No other country in the civilized world has vowed to wipe another country off the map like Iran’s leaders. Yes, the human face demands a response. But how we ultimately respond to the bellicose threats of this demented regime will determine the fate of millions in the world today.

As always, the choice is in our hands.

Etiologies in Genesis 1-3

March 13th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Q. What is an etiology? What is its role in biblical literature?

A. An etiology concerns itself with the study of causes and origins. As a philosophical investigation, the philosopher tries to understand the nature of existence and how it came to be. In Genesis for example, etiologies serve to explain the origin of a custom, an event, a name, a geographical formation, an object, a shrine, and so on. The first Jewish thinker to arrive at this was the 15th century Jewish thinker, R. Joseph Albo, who noted that the stories of the Edenic garden are meant to account for the difficulties of life that human beings experience.[1]

More often than not, etiologies[2] in the Tanakh correspond to a negative evaluation and many people throughout the ages have read the story of Genesis 3 as a justification for why women must be subordinated to men. This is precisely the point of encounter where a modern reader must insist that while etiologies provide explanations for the causes and origins of a social attitude, they should not be read as prescriptions for how the world ought to be. To go one step further, many of these prescriptions characterize a world as it ought NOT to be.

Etiological explanations have their limitations, especially when ethical issues are involved; they should never prevent a person or a community from critically reexamining the basis of the etiological explanation’s internal logos. The failure to do so can sometimes lead to disastrous consequences. One example that comes to mind is the use of anesthetics in childbirth. In 1847, Church leaders quoted God’s curse to Eve: “in pain shall you bring forth children.” How could she fulfill the biblical punishment of bearing children in pain while being under the influence of chloroform? One wise doctor countered that scripturally, there was no harm in giving anesthetics to men, because God Himself put Adam into a deep sleep when He extracted his rib. However, the ecclesiastical bodies remained unconvinced when it came to the suffering of women who were in childbirth.[3]

Former Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth Immanuel Jakobovits writes in his Jewish Medical Ethics that as late as 1853, even before the discovery of anesthesia, there was an incident in France where two women—one pregnant and one who aided her with some artificial means to ease the pain of her delivery—were both burnt to death for attempting to circumvent Eve’s curse. Toward the end of the nineteenth century, chloroform was banned by the Catholic Church. The ban remained in effect until 1949, when painless births were permitted.[4] A society’s etiological explanations when left unanalyzed, can become a source for social dysfunction. There are broad implications that go beyond just the Edenic story, and a contemporary believer ought to take etiological explanations of any practice and hold them up to ethical scrutiny.

Lastly, in the Pseudepigraphal Book of Adam and Eve, the ancients propose a surprisingly sensitive reading of the text that demonstrates a willingness to deconstruct the text in a manner that is respectful toward women in general, and Eve in particular: “And he went and found her in great distress. And Eve said: ‘From the moment I saw thee, my lord, my grief-laden soul was refreshed. And now entreat the Lord God on my behalf to hearken unto thee and look upon me and free me from my awful pains.’ And Adam entreated the Lord for Eve.”[5]


[1] Sefer ha-Ikkarim, 1:11.

[2] Other etiologies include: the first act of Creation, the first day, the first week, the first Sabbath, the origins of marriage, menstruation, pregnancy, family dysfunction, the first dietary law, the first farmer and shepherd, the first conflict between the shepherd and a famer, the origin of sibling rivalry; the first fratricide, the first fugitive, the first city, the first ship-builder, the first natural catastrophe, and so on.

3] See Andrew D. White, A History of the Warfare of Science with Theology in Christendom, originally published by Appleton in 1896, reprinted in 1993 as part of the Great Minds Series by Prometheus Books, Vol. II, p. 60.

[4] Immanuel Jakobovits, Jewish Medical Ethics (New York: Bloch Publishing, 1959), p. 104.

[5] Book of Adam and Eve 20.1.

Banning Women from Funerals?

March 12th, 2009 Rabbi Samuel No comments

Q. I read recently in the Jerusalem Post about a funeral that took place in the Yavneh cemetery, where the women were prohibited from walking near the graves, and one of the reasons given was because it “damages their wombs.” Another Orthodox woman said, “Due to the high rate of deaths of young people in Yavneh, the community undertook a vow not to approach the grave during a burial - and that would be the tikkun (healing) of Yavneh.”

A woman defending the custom, explained:

We implored the woman from the cemetery. We argued with her and amongst ourselves. In the meantime, some men were already returning from the burial. As they passed near us, they said we could approach the grave now since the burial had been completed. Yet the cemetery woman still refused and said, “It is not good for the departed. Don’t you understand? You are sinning against the dead. You are harming his soul” and with that she silenced us. She overwhelmed us. The father of my departed cousin is religious and some of the women said he might want us to obey these shocking orders. We did not want to endanger him or his son in any way in the world to come. So we stopped trying …) [Jerusalem Post, March 12, 2009]

What is the reason for this antiquated custom? Why is there an association between a woman’s menstruation and death? Can a woman serve as a pallbearer?

A. Great questions!

The Talmud in BT Sanhedrin 20a discusses funeral etiquette:

“Our Rabbis taught: Wherever it is customary for women to follow the bier, they may do so; to precede it, they may do so likewise. R. Judah said: Women must always precede the bier, for we find that David followed the coffin of Abner, as it is written, “And King David followed the bier” (2 Sam. 3:31). They the Rabbis said to him: ‘That was only to appease the people, and they were indeed appeased, for David went to and fro, from the men to the women and back from the women to the men, as it is written, So all the people and all Israel understood that day that it was not of the king to slay Abner’ ( 2 Sam. 3:37).

Ba’ale Tosfot cites two views from the Jerusalem Talmud regarding this Talmudic passage: one approach suggests the reason why women should not lead a funeral procession, because it was Eve, who introduced death to the world.[1] However, others contend that because of modesty, it became customary for men to lead the procession (which is contrary to the view expressed by R. Judah cited above).

There is a big difference whether the custom of women following the bier is because of modesty or whether it is attributed to Eve’s sin.

Now, the Zohar (ca. 12th century) complicates the discussion and adds an entirely new wrinkle to the above Talmudic discussion.

R. Simeon further said: ‘I swear to you that the majority of people do not die before their time, but only those who know not how to take heed to themselves. For at the time when a dead body is taken from the house to the place of burial the Angel of Death haunts the abodes of the women. Why of the women? Because that has been his habit since the time that he seduced Eve, through whom he brought death upon the world. Hence, when he takes a man’s life, and the males are accompanying the dead body, he mingles himself on the way among the women, and he has then the power to take the life of the sons of men. He looks on the way at the faces of those who come within his sight, from the time they carry the dead body out from his house to the place of burial until they return to their homes. It is on their account that he brings about the untimely death of many people. Regarding this it is written: “But there is that is swept away without justice” (Prov. 13:23). For he, the Angel of Death, ascends and brings accusations and recounts man’s sins before the Holy One, blessed be He, so that the man is brought to judgment for those sins, and is removed from the world before his time.

The Zohar now offers its own view of proper funeral etiquette:

What is the remedy against this? When the dead body is carried to the place of burial, a man should turn his face in another direction, and leave the women behind him. Should the latter pass in front he should turn round so as not to face them. Similarly, when they return from the place of burial he should not return by the way where the women are standing, and he should not look at them at all, but should turn a different way. It is because the sons of men do not know of this, and do not observe this, that the majority of people are brought up for judgment and are taken away before their time..[2]

The Zohar’s position ought to be fairly clear: all women must atone for Eve’s sin. The connection between menstruation and death has long been a part of Western religion, for among the punishments Eve receives in Genesis 3, according to rabbinic folklore, was the beginning of her menstrual cycle—all this is subsumed under the penalty “I will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing” (Gen. 3:16) as noted by Seforno and Malbim in their biblical commentaries. Women are thus viewed in early rabbinic tradition as being responsible for the presence of death in the world, and the menstrual cycle is a collective punishment all women must bear for a substantial part of their lives.

Kabbalists sometimes cite another verse in Scriptures that associates women with death, “Her feet go down to death; her steps lead straight to the grave” (Proverbs 5:11)-as an allusion to Eve! For this reason, women are forbidden to serve as pallbearers among the Orthodox. Non-Orthodox brands of Judaism allow women to serve in this capacity.

R. Joseph Karo, author of the Shulchan Aruch rules that women should not participate in the procession to the grave, lest they bring harm to the world.[3] Rabbinical scholars like the Kabbalist R. Isaac Luria[4], as well as the Vilna Gaon, urge women not to even enter a cemetery until they have gone to the mikveh (a ritual bath for purification).[5] According to Luria, the law applies no less to men who had sexual relations or a seminal emission as well, for they too, must immerse themselves in the mikveh since the demonic forces of evil are believed to cling to an individual who has not immersed.

The Kabbalah influences the Jewish legal system known as “Halachah” more than most people realize. Halachic authorities are divided whether this applies when the woman is counting her “seven clean days” after her menstrual bleeding has ceased. As a side note, some rabbis believe that a woman should not go to a synagogue while she is bleeding, but most authorities think it is permitted during her seven clean days.

As mentioned above, nowhere in the Talmud is there any mention at all of this custom. Jewish mysticism modifies the Christian doctrine of Original Sin, and redirects the blame-to the women [men have been blaming women for the ills of the world since ancient times], who are believed to represent the incarnation of Eve. These mystics influenced the tradition, and that would explain why the incident in Yavneh created a ruckus. Of course, this law, like many others, is rooted in classical misogyny. To our regret, sexism retains an honored place in the Zohar and for those who admire the study of the Kabbalah, it is imperative we realize that its authors had feet of clay, and were indeed men of their age. The Zohar is far from being an inerrant work of religious literature.

In the spirit of speculation, I would add that customs, such as this one, may have a basis in something tragic that occurred in a Jewish community long ago. Perhaps a pregnant woman attended a funeral one day, and she miscarried while she was standing in front of a grave. The horror of such an awful experience might have left the community in a state of trauma, and as Kabbalists and rabbis tried to find a connection between the events (the funeral and the miscarriage).[6]

Lastly, the term “kever” (that typically means “grave”), but may also signify uterus and womb.[7] This could partially explain basis for the Zohar and subsequent Lurianic custom about women not entering a cemetery in a funeral procession.


[1] Tosfot, s.v. Nashim - Sanhedrin 20a.

[2] II Zohar 196a-b.

[3] YD 359:1-2.

[4] Cited in the Magane Avraham O.H. 559, s.k. 19.

[5] Cited in the Pitechei Teshuvah Y.D. 119 , s.k. 119.

[6] Of course the idea that women are responsible for the evil and death of the world derives from texts that are even more ancient than the Talmud or Midrash, e.g., Sirach 15:24,25:24; Life of Adam and Eve 44:2; Apocalypse of Moses 14;2. Long before the Zohar or Kabbalah was a twinkle in some rabbi’s eye, generations of people attributed the evils and problems of the world to women; subsequent rabbinical tradition only confirmed a belief that amounts to an early Judaic version of Original Sin that eventually influenced Christianity.

[7] For an illustration of this concept, the Talmud in tractate Nidah 21a raises the question whether it is possible for the uterus to open without bleeding, see also Even Shoshan Hebrew Dictionary s.v. “kever.”