Jewish Magic and Superstition: 3. The Powers of Evil

Hardly a murmur of doubt do we hear of the existence and reality of the evil spirits. The Talmudic literature, both the Aggadic folklore and the Halacha, accepted their presence as axiomatic.1 We may readily understand then, how it is that in the Middle Ages a people fed on this literature no longer questioned. The Kabbalah, indeed, accorded the demons an integral rôle in a cosmic design in which the right and the left are the opposing currents of pure and impure powers filling the world and dividing it between the Holy One and His Adversary. In all of medieval Jewry there were few who raised their voices against this superstition. Some Karaites vigorously repudiated such beliefs, and characterized them as "merely human imaginings." Maimonides and Ibn Ezra took a similarly strong stand. But these were citizens of southern, Mohammedan lands. Not a word to this effect do we hear in the north of Europe. Our literature takes them as much for granted as did the Talmudic. Certain works, especially from the school of Judah the Pious, reveal their activities on almost every page. Rashi repeated the Midrashic comment that "every living thing" represented in the ark included even the demons.2

If we are to believe Moses of Tachau,3 Ibn Ezra paid dearly for

Iglant [England?], where he died, that once when he was travelling through a forest he came upon a large band of black dogs who glared at him balefully; undoubtedly these were demons. When he had finally passed through their midst he fell seriously ill, and eventually he died of that illness." This incident was apparently evidence enough for R. Moses, though we may question whether, if it occurred, it sufficed to convince the doughty Ibn Ezra.

Menasseh b. Israel, writing in the middle of the seventeenth century, summed up the thought of the Middle Ages when, after demonstrating to his own satisfaction that demons do exist, by calling into service proofs on the threefold basis of tradition, reason, and the senses, he cited a long list of appropriate passages from Jewish literature, and concluded, "The opinion of all Jewish authorities is that the Biblical references to spirits are to be taken literally." He lightly brushed aside the Maimonidean strictures against such superstitions with the familiar objection that their author had been "seduced" by the philosopher's predilection for the testimony of reason and experience, to the damage of his piety and faith in revelation.4 Menasseh b. Israel was expressing not his own opinion but the judgment of Jewish folk-belief.

TERMINOLOGY

It may not be amiss if before we proceed to a consideration of the features of this demonology, we devote a few lines to the nomenclature employed in our literature. The terms most frequently met with are those made familiar in the ancient literature of the Jews: mazzik, from a root which means "to damage, destroy"; shed, an obscure word which occurs in the Bible in the plural,5 and which in the Talmudic literature acquired the exclusive sense of "demon"; and ruaḥ, "spirit," often ruaḥ ra‘ah, "evil spirit."6 These words were not at all differentiated in our period, though a rather academic attempt was at times made to distinguish among them on the basis of Talmudic statements. In general, however, these three terms

liliot.7

I may also mention here the malache ḥabbala, "angels (or demons) of destruction," who made their initial appearance in the Talmud, and who were not absent from the medieval scene. Their names end with the letter peh, we are informed. The fact that the titles of the daily synagogue services, the eighteen benedictions, the prayer Yoẓer Or, and the grace after meals do not contain this letter, was cited as proof that prayer serves as a protection against these destroying angels.8

The Lurianic Kabbalah brought into common currency an old but little used term, kelippah, originally "scale, husk, skin"; occurring in the earlier mystical works and in the Zohar, this word rarely appeared in our literature. Its Lurianic popularization, reflected in the writings of the famous Polish mystic, Isaiah Horowitz (1555-1630), marked the beginning of a new development in Jewish demonology which is outside the scope of this study.

These traditional terms were used only to designate the general phenomenon. It is of interest to inquire why none of them acquired a specialized sense in our period, to single out those differentiated demonic types which people the folklore of all nations. The explanation is not far to seek. The Hebrew of the Bible and the prayers, while familiar to most Jews, was not the vernacular; nor did the Talmud, which so strongly colored Jewish life, provide Jewry with a spoken tongue. Words lifted from these sources entered into the everyday language of the people, to be sure, but their very antiquity and traditional meanings made it difficult to squeeze them into new molds. They sufficed as generic terms, but to designate the specific, the differentiated, the peculiarly contemporary, the Jews turned to the vernacular for their nomenclature. Specialized types of demons were not wanting in medieval Jewish folklore, but they appeared under their non-Hebraic names, words borrowed from the German and the French. This interesting subject, shedding so much light upon the question of non-Jewish influence on Jewish belief and superstition, will be presently considered.

THE GENESIS OF DEMONS

The number of demons in the world was prodigious. One Christian census estimated them as somewhat more than one for each person on earth. Our sources spurn such conservative figures; their number is uncountable, the simple unit employed in referring to them is no smaller than the myriad.9

The question of the origin of this demonic horde naturally agitated the medieval mind. It was of especial interest to the Jews, for in a world altogether fashioned ex nihilo by the Creator of all things, the demons alone have no recorded birthday; the first chapter of Genesis is silent concerning them. Talmudic tradition, however, provided the clew which was followed in the Middle Ages. On the first Sabbath eve, at twilight, as God was putting the finishing touches to His great work of creation, He turned His hand to the construction of these beings, who, though included in the plan of things as they were to be, might well be left for last. He had not progressed beyond the fashioning of their souls, however, when the hastening Sabbath overtook Him, and He was obliged to cease His labors to sanctify the first day of rest. So it is that the demons have no bodies, but are constituted wholly of spirit.10

But this explanation did not suffice to still all doubts, and a medieval rabbi,11 during the course of a disputation with a renegade Jew, appended an interesting codicil to this theme. There remained yet another category, unaccounted for by the rabbinic theory and known to Jews under their non-Jewish names (R. Jeḥiel, our disputant, mentioned specifically the lutin and the fae), which possessed both soul and body. These obviously required something more than the traditional explanation. This R. Jeḥiel provided. He utilized a rabbinic legend to the effect that during the 130 years after the expulsion from Eden, when Adam was parted from Eve, he had relations with female demons who bore him demonic offspring, to account for this corporeal group which the Talmudic rabbis didn't know. The spirits whom we know as the lutins and faes are the children of Adam by this unnatural union, said R. Jeḥiel.

We read also of still another demonic category, whose members were created afresh daily out of the ranks of the most recent tenants of the grave. It is not altogether correct to hold, as some students have, that in the popular conception the spirits of the dead roamed the world as specters and vampires, recruits to the demonic armies.

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