But where’s the balance between our brains, which crave an ordered view of Judaism, and our souls, which seek a sense of meaning that rationalism can’t always provide?
Rabbi Avi Finegold
FOUNDER, THE JEWISH LEARNING LIBRARY, MONTREAL
Rabbi Philip Scheim
BETH DAVID B’NAI ISRAEL BETH AM CONGREGATION, TORONTO
Rabbi Finegold: I have always had a hard time with some of the more superstitious aspects of Judaism. Stories of demons in the Talmud and other practices that seem antiquated – not to mention on shaky halachic footing – are difficult for me to incorporate into my daily practice.
For example, the custom of washing one’s fingers upon waking to cleanse them of evil spirits is a custom I struggle with. Another example is the prohibition against placing meat and fish on the same plate for fear of causing oneself bodily harm. How do you reconcile these ideas with your understanding of Judaism in the 21st century?
Rabbi Scheim:Your question reminded me of a volume in my library that I took off the shelf this morning for the first time in decades. The book, Kedushat Levi, is the Torah commentary of Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev.
The title page suggests the book be placed in every Jewish home, because its very presence will protect all members of the household from evil. I am proud to own the commentary of such an inspirational rabbinic giant, but have never taken its insurance policy proviso very seriously.
Similarly, I view mezuzot as reminders of our mitzvah responsibilities and of our mandate to transmit Jewish learning and practice to future generations. I resist the popular tendency to view the mezuzah as an amulet, providing household protection, and its theologically problematic obverse – that an unkosher mezuzah may lead to tragedy.
I fear that superstition can lead to a very unbecoming depiction of the Almighty as One who would invoke terrible punishment for relatively minor ritual infractions.
Rabbi Finegold: I wonder if we can eliminate all superstition from our religious practice, and whether that may not be what we want entirely. While I struggle with certain practices and customs that balance between Halachah and minhag – do you think anyone will deny me an aliyah because I do not wash the spiritual impurities from my nails in the morning? – I do validate that this structured approach of living does indeed offer many people value.
In fact, I often look at hyper-rationalist Jews and note their lack of awe and wonder toward the Divine. I see it often enough to come to the conclusion that some form of mysticism is needed in Judaism. The question then becomes how do we balance between our brains, which crave an ordered view of Judaism, and our souls, which want to be inspired and imbued with a sense of meaning that the Maimonidean rationalism does not always provide.
Don’t get me wrong, I, too, share your mezuzah values, but I’m not sure how to present a Judaism that no longer speaks of angels and demons, but that also provides the framework to look out the window in the morning and see the sunrise as just one of the many miracles that God gives us daily.
Rabbi Scheim: Agreed. A balance is needed between pure rationalism and a religious sensitivity to the fears and emotional challenges that are so much a part of the human experience.
My teacher, the late Rabbi Max Kadushin, spoke of the “indeterminacy of belief,” whereby we have multiple explanations for events and practices, meeting the diverse needs of the community. Thus, for some, a glass is broken under the chupah to remind us of the destruction of Jerusalem, while for others, it was intended to confuse the demons who would lurk at happy (and sad) occasions.
Similarly, for some, a pregnant woman should not enter a cemetery where the demons present could harm the fetus, while for others, there is no restriction other than respecting elderly family members holding to the superstition, or concern for the emotional and physical health of the mother-to-be.
Even though I tend toward the rational approach and away from superstition, I hold on to a small measure of fear and uncertainty, believing that it’s always religiously sound not to be too sure of oneself.
