“If the eye was given permission to see, no creature would be able to withstand the abundance and ubiquity of the demons and continue to live unaffected by them...they stand over us like mounds of dirt surrounding a pit.” - Berakhot 6a
As I’ve begun studying the Talmud in earnest, my grandest realization is very simple: I feel bad for the Talmudic sages. They were learned men, dedicated to what must have been mind-bendingly complex scholarship in maintaining a firm grasp on passing down the Oral Torah over dozens of generations, which is already a steep ask. They were then further asked to synthesize that information with the world around them, answering questions that today would be asked of scientists, astronomers, and doctors. The world of the diaspora was brand new, literally every single thing needed explaining or clarifying, and these Rabbis were the sought-after experts on all of it. The Talmud is an attempt to codify an answer to every question in existence using the extremely limited tools of the time. This led to some...odd passages of Talmud. The Torah says explicitly that the pharaoh’s advisors were capable of some minor types of magic. So I can almost picture the scene when a concerned citizen asks the rabbis: what should we do if we run into this type of evil magical person?
Ameimar said: The chief of witches said to me: One who encounters witches should say this incantation: Hot feces in torn date baskets in your mouth, witches; may your hairs fall out because you use them for witchcraft; your crumbs, which you use for witchcraft, should scatter in the wind; your spices, which you use for your witchcraft, should scatter; the wind should carry away the fresh saffron that you witches hold to perform your witchcraft. - Pesachim 110a
It has always seemed odd to me that Halloween was a more taboo holiday in my Temple’s religious school than Christmas was. In the moment, I was mainly frustrated at adults smarmily telling me that Purim was the Jewish Halloween as if I didn’t have a detailed calendar of dates when an overindulgence of sugar was allowed. Further explanations of Halloween’s origin as a pagan holiday also rang oddly; I patiently explained to my Hebrew school teacher that I was not interested in pagan rituals, I was simply interested in dressing up as Superman and searching out full-sized candy bars.
As a very slightly more mature adult, I now am annoyed for a slightly more (less?) compelling reason: Judaism may not borrow heavily from pagan tradition as Christianity does, but the bits that Halloween celebrates? The various ghouls, ghosts, demons, and magic things that go bump in the night? They are all right here, used all over the Talmud to explain evils and terrors of the world around us.
The Sages taught: A person should not drink water at night. And if he drank, his blood is upon his own head, due to the danger. The Gemara asks: What is this danger? The Gemara answers: The danger of the shavrirei, an evil spirit that rules over water. And if he is thirsty, what is his remedy? If there is another person with him, he should wake him and say to him: I thirst for water, and then he may drink. And if there is no other person with him, he should knock with the lid on the jug and say to himself: So-and-so, son of so-and-so, your mother said to you to beware of the shavrirei verirei rirei yirei rei, found in white cups. This is an incantation against the evil spirit. - Avodah Zara 12b
Is there a more universal feeling than the slight paranoid pang of terror one can feel at moments being alone, or in the dark, or in a remote location? The small jolt of electricity that tickles the nape of your neck when you would swear you saw a pair of eyes looking at you from just out of sight? In this world of the Talmudic rabbis, those moments were not so easily dismissed as paranoia, and examples of the world’s evils could not be forgiven as coincidence. While Job remains the bright flashing allegory of why bad things might happen to good people, there are plenty of other instances where the writers of Jewish texts go out of their way to ascribe bad behavior to malevolent supernatural forces.
Now the spirit of the LORD had departed from Saul, and an evil spirit from the LORD began to terrify him. Saul’s courtiers said to him, “An evil spirit is terrifying you. Let our lord give the order [and] the courtiers in attendance on you will look for someone who is skilled at playing the lyre; whenever the evil spirit of G-d comes over you, he will play it and you will feel better.” So Saul said to his courtiers, “Find me someone who can play well and bring him to me.” - I Samuel 16
Two points if you can name that lyre player: if you guessed David, G-d’s chosen replacement for Saul, well done. Not unlike the big bad guy in a mafia movie, G-d steps outside the room before his goons go to work, absolving G-d of the madness that consumes Saul. One can only imagine the reaction of the families of early sufferers of various mental psychoses, diagnosed as having had g-d’s spirit leave them. What evil must their family have committed to be afflicted in such a way?
Apropos the binding of Isaac, the Gemara elaborates: It is written: “And it came to pass after these matters [hadevarim] that G-d tried Abraham” (Genesis 22:1). The Gemara asks: After what matters? How does the binding of Isaac relate to the preceding events? Rabbi Yoḥanan said in the name of Rabbi Yosei ben Zimra: This means after the statement [devarav] of Satan, as it is written: “And the child grew, and was weaned, and Abraham prepared a great feast on the day that Isaac was weaned” (Genesis 21:8). Satan said before the Holy One, Blessed be He: Master of the Universe, this old man, you favored him with a product of the womb, i.e., a child, at one hundred years of age. From the entire feast that he prepared, did he not have even one dove or one pigeon to sacrifice before You as a thanks-offering? G-d said to Satan: Did Abraham prepare the feast for any reason but for his son? If I say to him: Sacrifice your son before Me, he would immediately slaughter him. Immediately, after these matters, the verse states: “And G-d tried Abraham.” - Sanhedrin 89b
How many overwrought sermons have been written on the binding of Isaac? A G-d that tests a human in such an emotionally cruel and manipulative manner is not one that most feel good about basing a religion around. That dissonance is relatively unproblematic within my reform upbringing, where we can accept the story as allegory rather than fact. But the Talmudic sages did not have any such out: Torah is black fire written on white fire by G-d, and if the Torah says something happens that conflicts with your worldview, the only option is to find a nuance that helps smooth the edges.
The core concept of Judaism, monotheism, was a revolution in its time. Polytheism is a much easier pill to swallow, theologically speaking. By compartmentalizing worship and spreading faith over a swath of deities, moments where humanity is forced to confront the darker sides of existence can be explained away by evil G-ds triumphing over good. If a string of bad luck befalls you, if evil comes knocking on your doorstep, a change of the direction of prayer habits may do the trick.
By contrast, a single omnipotent G-d by definition must hold final say over all outcomes, good and evil, throughout the world. The evil demons that would overwhelm us if only we were allowed to see them are held at bay or allowed to attack by a singular unknowable (if theoretically benevolent) power. The moments of paranoia, of terror and horror and sorrow and grief, must be confronted and incorporated into the larger tapestry of g-d’s creation. Bad things happen to good people, evil often triumphs over good. Judaism forces us to confront those facts as part of our larger understanding of g-d’s majesty.
It feels deeply comforting to know that our ancestors the Talmudic sages struggled with that idea as heavily as we do today. Our fears and neuroses link us with them as much as any ritual practice. So as we head into this Shabbos of Halloween, I will hopefully give see some ghosts and goblins in search of candy outside of my window and think of the Rabbis of the Talmud, forever seeking to understand the unknowable, and finding comfort in ghost stories.
Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi commanded his sons: After my death my lamp should be lit in its usual place, my table should be set in its usual place, and the bed should be arranged in its usual place. The Gemara asks: What is the reason he made these requests? The Gemara explains: Every Shabbat eve, even after his passing, Rabbi Yehuda HaNasi would come to his house as he had done during his lifetime, and he therefore wished for everything to be set up as usual. - Ketubot 103a