Friday, October 31, 2014

Spirits of the Dark: Halloween Eve 2014

Spirits of the Dark
Sermon for Halloween Eve
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman
Shabbat Lech L’cha, 5775

Though there are many theories about the origins of Halloween, one thing is certain:  It is NOT a Jewish holiday.  Of course, one could say that Sukkot shares a few elements with Halloween.  Both are fall festivals, both mark the end of the harvest season and the beginning of the period of shorter days and longer nights.  In ancient times, in a world awash with ignorance and superstition, fall was the time of year in which malignant and malicious spirits were more prone to emerge from the darkness, from under the foggy underbrush of a world that science could not yet explain.

Some beliefs held that these malicious spirits of the underworld needed appeasement in the form of acts or gifts that would bring about their favor and avert divine retribution. A treat, if you will, to ward off the trick.

The Jewish world that emerged out of the superstitious murk of ancient cultures is not devoid of spirits and ghosts.  The Patriarch Jacob, for example, on several occasions, sees spirits.  At the time of his return to his homeland, following a 20 year exile, he has an overnight wrestling match with someone or something that was both more and less than human, a being that could cause harm but could also bestow blessings; a creature that could appear powerful at night, but for whom exposure to sunlight brought terrible consequences.

The custom of appeasing one’s demons could also explain Jacob’s act of sending generous gifts of livestock and money to Esau before his reunion with the dreaded twin brother who, twenty years earlier, had sworn to kill Jacob.

And though the modern world associates witchcraft mostly with women, in ancient time this was far from a female-dominated realm.  Goblins, gnomes and elves were often of the male variety of demons; and Satan, of course, the head honcho of all evil spirits, was definitely male.  If he weren’t, Rosemary would never have her baby and the entire genre of horror movies would look very different today.

In the world of Jewish demonology, in fact, Satan is not a fallen angel.  He is the cynic, the one who has little faith in the creatures called human beings.  To prove that, Satan—whose name means “the one who misdirects”—tempts people, throwing obstacles and enticements in their way so as to prove to God that God’s faith in us was misdirected from the start, that the chance God took in creating a being that could destroy as carelessly and gleefully as he could create, was a bad choice.

In Jewish folklore, the underworld over which Satan rules is made up of little trolls whose job it is not only to keep the flames of hell burning, but also to entice and tempt people, to play with and cause them to trip up. Far from being demons or devils, Satan and his little helpers are not excused from God’s laws; then must even observe Shabbat, giving all tortured souls a day-off from the eternal flames of Gehennom, the place where souls were scrubbed clean before they returned to the loving embrace of the Heavenly Creator of all souls.

But the Torah is full of witches and sorcery, as is obvious from the commandments stated in Leviticus and Deuteronomy:  “Thou shalt not permit a witch to live.”  Witches negated the God-given gift of choice and free will.  Associated with the dead, having the power to communicate with the world beyond, with channeling the immortal souls of dead people, witches had unique and undue power over the living.

The most famous witch in the Bible is probably the Witch of Endor.  As told in the book of Samuel, King Saul took it as one of his holy missions to exterminate all witches from his kingdom.  Yet one somehow survived, and it is this witch that Saul goes to visit and consult with before his final battle with the Philistines.  He asks her to raise the spirit of the prophet Samuel.  In those days, it was the belief that for commoners, the spirits of the dead appeared upside-down.  Only for royalty, presumably out of respect, did they appear right side up.  So when Samuel’s spirit appeared upright from within the smoke of her cauldron, the witch knew that her anonymous visitor was King Saul, and she is terrified that he will kill her now as he had done to all the other witches of the land. 

Samuel has some pretty harsh words to say to his erstwhile protégé, and the king, ashen and downfallen, returns home without doing the Witch of Endor any further harm.


The Talmud and Midrash, Judaism’s great texts of the first millennium of the Common Era, also speak of witches and other spirits of the Other World, as well as of their evil influence on the Real World.  Chief among those was Lilith, a night spirit who, in one ancient text, appears as Adam’s first wife (a version derived from the two seemingly separate stories of the creation of woman in the story of Genesis).  Lilith, it seems, was a bit too adventurous for some prudish rabbis who saw her as sexually promiscuous and domineering.  In speaking of Lilith in such a way, these early Rabbis took an even earlier belief and wove stories that helped shape Jewish gender ethics for the next two thousand years.

The red string of Kabbalah, the red ribbon or string tied to the post of a male baby’s crib, are among the amulets and antidotes that are said to ward off the malicious Lilith, whose revenge for being cast out in favor of Eve was her insatiable demand for male babies and for the seed ejected in nocturnal emissions.

Ghosts and evil spirits also appear in Jewish folklore, among them dybbuks, ru'aḥ tezazit and ru’ach ra’ah.  All of these are disembodied spirits that invade living bodies, taking control of them and acting out their own desires through the possessed body.  The mystic philosophy, Kabbalah, contains many rituals and protocols relating to exorcism of a dybbuk. 

Then, of course, to counterbalance the soul-without-a-body, cue the golem, which is a body without a soul.  In modern retellings, the soul is replaced by a brain, but originally it was a soul that the creature lacked.  An effective retelling of this story can be found in the Kaddish episode of the TV series “The X-Files.”

In our own time and place, Halloween has lost much of its religious connotations.  I suppose we can thank Hallmark and the candy industry for this particular transformation—though it is just as likely that science and secularism are as guilty of this as anything else.  Yet, superstitions still abound, especially around cemeteries and graveyards.  Despite the huge advances in knowledge and learning, fear of the unknown is still prominent in the human psyche.  Laughing in the face of darkness is just one way in which we ward off the dangers.  Taking delight in tricking malicious spirits is our way of showing them who’s in charge in this world.

And treating with sweets and candies those little children who appear at our doorsteps, dressed in the most creative, imaginative and colorful costumes, is but one way in which we adults attempt to propitiate and pacify a frightening future. 


The historical roots of Halloween are, indeed, not Jewish.  However, the spiritual world is actually deeply interwoven with the Jewish world.  And though some rabbis forbid any and all customs and celebrations associated with Halloween, it’s probably the least harmful way in which we can try to ward off darkness and fear.  At least this way we make our children happy, as we teach them that, though there ARE legitimate fears in the world, they CAN be conquered, that we have unbound abilities that far outpace the malicious scheming of any number of goblins and demons.  God knows the terrors of the real world are not half so easy to placate, but the children don’t need to know that.  Not yet at any rate.  Let them remain innocent but a while longer.

May the taste of Torah always be as sweet as candy in our lives and in the lives of our children.

Kein y’hi ratzon—may this be God’s will.



© 2014 by Boaz D. Heilman


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