Second Preface
The history of western magic started about 4000
years ago. And since then
it has been adding something to western magic. Originally, the
Latin
word magus nominated the followers of the spiritualist-priest
class,
and later originated to elect ‘clairvoyant, sorcerer’ and in a
judgmental sense also ‘magician, trickster’. Thus, the initial
meaning of the word ‘magic’ was the wisdoms of the Magi, that is
the abilities of attaining supernatural powers and energy, while
later it became practical critically to deceitful wizardry. The
etymological descriptions specify three significant features in the
expansion of the notion ‘magic’:
1)
Magic as a discipline of celestial natural forces and in the course
of formation
2)
Magic as the exercise of such facts in divinations, visions and
illusion
3)
Fraudulent witchery. The latter belief played a significant part in
the Christian demonization process.
The
growth of the western notion ‘magic’ directed to extensive
assumptions in the demonological and astrophysical argument of the
Neoplatonists. Their tactic was grounded on the philosophy of a
hierarchically ordered outer space, where conferring to Plotinus
(C205–C270 AD) a noetic ingredient was shaped as the outcome of
eternal and countless radiation built on the ultimate opinion; this
in its chance contributed to the rise of psychic constituent, which
formed the basis of the factual world.
Furthermore,
these diverse phases of release came to be measured as convinced
forces, which underneath the impact of innocent and evil views
during
late ancient times were embodied as humans. The hierarchical cosmos
of Iamblichus simply demonstrates the legitimacy of this process.
In
his work, the Neoplatonic cosmology has initiated a channel through
the syncretism distinctive of the late antiquity and in the essence
of Greco-Oriental dualism. Superior productions are taken closer to
inferior ones by various midway creatures. The higher the site of
the
mediators, the further they bear a resemblance to gods and whizzes;
the minor they are, the nearer they stand to the psychic-spiritual
part. The aforementioned group of intermediaries has been settled
in
order of series on the origin of cosmic gravity.
Proclus
(c410–485 AD) has described the system of magic origin conversed
above in better aspect: in the hierarchical shackles of cosmic
rudiments the power and nature of a firm star god disturbs
everything
mediocre, and with growing distance the impact slowly becomes
weaker.
The Humanists approached the Platonic notions from the outlook of
the
bequest of late antiquity, and were thus first familiarized to the
Neoplatonic form of the doctrine.
And
since Ficino’s work has been inscribed in the spirit of emanation
theory, and the author has been persuaded of the existence of the
higher and lower spheres of magic and powers defined in Picatrix,
he
claims that planets and cosmic movements have much to do with power
and magic spirit.
Today’s
occult marketplace also offers, in addition to books, multifarious
paraphernalia for practicing magic: amulets, talismans, pendulums
and
magic rods. Though added with modern essentials and
pseudoscientific
advices to give some weight to the fundamentals, they are nothing
but
the leftovers of the western ethnicities of magic.
INTRODUCTION
IT might strike the average reader as
exceedingly odd that any attempt should be made at writing a book
on Jewish mysticism. The prevailing opinion--among theologians as
well as in the mind of the ordinary man--seems to be that Judaism
and mysticism stand at the opposite poles of thought, and that,
therefore, such a phrase as Jewish mysticism is a glaring and
indefensible contradiction in terms. It is to be hoped that the
contents of this little book will show the utter falsity of this
view.
What is this view, in the main, based upon? It is based upon
the gratuitous assumption that the Old Testament, and all the
theological and religious literature produced by Jews in subsequent
ages, as well as the general synagogue ritual, the public and
private religious worship of the Jew--that all these are grounded
on the unquestioning assumption of an exclusively transcendent God.
The Jews, it is said, never got any higher than the notion of the
old Jehovah whose abode was in the highest of the seven heavens and
whose existence, although very very real to the Jew, was yet of a
kind so immeasurably far away from the scenes of earth that it
could not possibly have that significance for the Jew which the God
of Christianity has for the Christian. The Jew, it is said, could
not possibly have that inward experience of God which was made
possible to the Christian by the life of Jesus and the teaching of
Paul.
This is one erroneous assumption. A second is the following: The
Pauline anti-thesis of law and faith has falsely stamped Judaism as
a religion of unrelieved legalism; and mysticism is the
irreconcileable enemy of legalism. The God of the Jew, it is said,
is a lawgiver pure and simple. The loyal and conscientious Jew is
he who lives in the throes of an uninterrupted obedience to a
string of laws which hedge him round on all sides. Religion is thus
a mere outward mechanical and burdensome routine. It is one long
bondage to a Master whom no one has at any time seen or
experienced. All spirituality is wanting. God is, as it were, a
fixture, static. He never goes out of His impenetrable isolation.
Hence He can have no bond of union with any one here below. Hence,
further, He must be a stranger to the idea of Love. There can be no
such thing as a self-manifestation of a loving God, no movement of
the Divine Spirit towards the human spirit and no return movement
of the human spirit to the Divine Spirit. There can be no
fellowship with God, no opportunity for any immediate experiences
by which the human soul comes to partake of God, no incoming of God
into human life. And where there is none of these, there can be no
mystical element.
A third false factor in the judgment of Christian theologians upon
Judaism is their insistence upon the fact that the intense and
uncompromising national character of Judaism must of necessity be
fatal to the mystical temperament. Mystical religion does, of
course, transcend all the barriers which separate race from race
and religion from religion. The mystic is a cosmopolitan, and, to
him, the differences between the demands and beliefs and
observances of one creed and those of another are entirely
obliterated in his one all-absorbing and all-overshadowing passion
for union with Reality. It is therefore quite true that if Judaism
demands of its devotees that they should shut up their God in one
sequestered, watertight compartment, it cannot at the same time be
favourable to the quest pursued by the mystic.
But as against this, it must be urged that Judaism in its evolution
through the centuries has not been so hopelessly particularist as
is customarily imagined. The message of the Old Testament on this
head must be judged by the condition of things prevailing in the
long epoch of its composition. The message of the Rabbinical
literature and of much of the Jewish mediæval literature must
similarly be judged. The Jew was the butt of the world's scorn. He
was outcast, degraded, incapacitated, denied ever so many of the
innocent joys and advantages which are the rightful heritage of all
the children of men, no matter what their distinctive race or creed
might be. He retaliated by declaring (as a result of conviction),
in his literature and in his liturgy, that his God could not, by
any chance, be the God of the authors of all these acts of
wickedness and treachery. Idolatry, immorality, impurity, murder,
persecution, hatred--the workers of all these must perforce be shut
out from the Divine presence. Hence seeing that, in the sight of
the Jew, the nations were the personification of these detestable
vices, and seeing that the Jew, in all the pride of a long
tradition, looked upon himself as invested with a spirit of
especial sanctity, as entrusted with the mission of a holy and pure
priesthood, one can quite easily understand how he came to regard
the God of Truth and Mercy as first and foremost his God and no one
else's.
But with all this, there are, in all branches of Jewish
literature, gleams of a far wider, more tolerant, and universalist
outlook. In-stances will be quoted later. The fact that they
existed shows that the germs of the universalism implied in
mysticism were there, only they were crushed by the dead-weight of
a perverse worldly fate. The Jew certainly did, and could, find God
in his neighbour (a non-Jew) as well as in himself. And this
ability is, and always was, a strong point of the mystics. Further,
even if it be granted that there are in Judaism elements of a
nationalism which can hardly be made to square with a high
spirituality, this is no necessary bar to its possession of abiding
and deeply-ingrained mystical elements. Nationalism is an integral
and vital part of the Judaism of the Old Testament and the
Rabbinical literature. It is bone of its bone, spirit of its
spirit. It is so interfused with religion that it is itself
religion. You cannot take up the old Judaism and break it up into
pieces, saying: Here are its religious elements; there are its
national elements. The two are inextricably combined, warp and woof
of one texture. And thus it came about that--strange as it may
appear to the modern mind--a halo of religious worth and of strong
spirituality was thrown over beliefs and practices which,
considered in and for themselves, are nothing more than national
sentiments, national memories, and national aspirations. Such,
then, being the case, the relation of Judaism to Jewish nationalism
is the relation of a large circle to the smaller circle inscribed
within it. The larger embraces the smaller.
To come now to mysticism; the mystic differs from the ordinary
religionist in that whereas the latter knows God through an
objective revelation whether in nature or as embodied in the Bible
(which is really only second-hand knowledge, mediate, external, the
record of other people's visions and experiences), the mystic knows
God by contact of spirit with spirit; cor ad cor loquitur. He has
the immediate vision; he hears the still small voice speaking
clearly to him in the silence of his soul. In this sense the mystic
stands quite outside the field of all the great religions of the
world. Religion for him is merely his own individual religion, his
own lonely, isolated quest for truth. He is solitary--a soul alone
with God.
But when we examine the lives and works of mystics, what do we
usually find? We usually find that in spite of the intensely
individualistic type of their religion, they are allied with some
one particular religion of the world's religions. Their mystical
experiences are coloured and moulded by some one dominant faith.
The specific forms of their conceptions of God do not come from
their own inner light only, but from the teachings which they
imbibe from the external and traditional religion of their race or
country. Thus, Christian mysticism has characteristics which are
sui generis; so has Mohammedan mysticism; so has Hindu mysticism;
and likewise Jewish mysticism. The method, the temperament, the
spirit are very much the same in all of them. But the influence
wielded over them by the nature and trend of each of the great
dominant religions is a decisive one, and stamps its features on
them in a degree which makes them most easily distinguishable from
one another. Thus Judaism, whatever be its composition or spiritual
outlook, can certainly be a religion of mysticism. Its mysticism
may be of a different order from that which we commonly expect. But
this we shall see into later.
I have thus far dealt with the misconstructions put upon Judaism
and its mysticism by theologians outside the Jewish fold. I must
now say something about the erroneous judgments passed upon the
subject by some Jewish theologians. Jewish mysticism is as old as
the Old Testament--nay, as old as some of the oldest parts of the
Old Testament. It prevailed in varying degrees of intensity
throughout the centuries comprised in the Old Testament history.
The current flowed on, uninterrupted, into the era covered by the
Rabbinic period. The religious and philosophical literature,
ritual, worship, of Jewish mediævalism became heirs to it,
developing and ramifying its teachings and implications in ways
which it is the purport of this book partially to tell.
Now, more than one Jewish writer has categorically asserted that
the origins of Jewish mysticism date back not, as is the fact, to
the mists of antiquity, but to the period of European-Jewish
history beginning with the 12th century. The German-Jewish
historian, H. Graetz (1817-1891), one of the best-known upholders
of this view, ascribes the origin of Jewish mysticism to a French
Rabbi of the 12th and 13th centuries, by name Isaac ben Abraham of
Posquières, more generally known as Isaac the Blind. He regards him
as the father 'of the Kabbalah'--the latter term being the general
name in Jewish literature for every kind or school of mystical
interpretation. Isaac is the reputed author of the Hebrew mystical
treatise written in dialogue form and called Bahir
('Brightness')--the book which, more than all its predecessors in
this domain, anticipates the style and contents of the Zohar
('Shining'), which is par excellence the mediæval textbook of
Jewish mysticism, and belongs to the 14th century. Graetz regards
the appearance of this mysticism as some sudden, unexplained
importation from without, a plant of exotic origin, "a false
doctrine which, although new, styled itself a primitive
inspiration; although un-Jewish, called itself a genuine teaching
of Israel" (History of the Jews, English Trans., vol. iii. p. 565).
But a perusal of the Old Testament, the New Testament (much of
which is Hebraic in thought and the work of Jews), and the Rabbinic
records will not, for one moment, lend countenance to such a
theory. It is in these early monuments of Judaism that the origins
will be found. Of course, in saying that the Old Testament holds
elements of mysticism--and in saying the same thing of the New
Testament--it must be understood that the mysticism is of an
implicit and unconscious kind and not the type of religion
historically known as 'mysticism.' It is ever so far removed from
the mysticism of a Plotinus or an Eckhart or an Isaac Luria (Jewish
mystic, 1533-1572). But taking mysticism in its broader connotation
as meaning religion in its most acute, intense, and living stage
(Rufus Jones, Studies in Mystical Religion, p. xv.), an immediate
and first-hand experience of God, then the ascription of mysticism
to the Old and New Testaments is perfectly correct. And, as will be
obvious from our coming pages, the most highly-elaborated mystical
doctrines of Jews in all ages subsequent to the Old Testament are,
after allowing for certain extraneous additions, an offshoot of the
latter's teachings.
Another type of ill-considered and unjust judgment often passed on
Jewish mysticism by Jewish authorities, is to be found in the
sneering and condemnatory attitude they adopt towards it in their
writings. This, of course, is a phenomenon by no means confined to
Jews. One need only think of the hostility of men like Ritschl,
Nordau, and Harnack towards all mysticism, in-discriminately. The
antagonism springs, in all cases, from an inability to appreciate
the subjectivity and individualism of the mystical temperament.
While rationalism attempts to solve the ultimate problems of
existence by the application of the intellect and the imagination,
mysticism takes account of the cravings of the heart and of the
great fact of the soul. Pure philosophy will never avail to give
the final answer to the questions, "what is above, what is below,
what is in front, what is behind" (Mishna, Ḥaggigah, ii. 1). The
world, to man's pure intellect, consists only of that which is seen
and which is temporal. But there is an-other world transcending it,
a world invisible, incomprehensible, but yet both visible and
comprehensible to the soul's craving for communion with the Divine.
No ratiocination, no syllogism of logic, can strip off the veil
from this elusive world.