This is a report on a series of lectures given by Moshe Idel at

the University of Washington (Seattle) about a year ago. I have

divided report into three posts, one for each lecture.

These are not verbatim transcripts: they are summaries of the

Sort that might be made by anyone from notes made during the

Lecture. Not everything is included, and most of what Idel said

Is summarized. I have tried to indicate where I missed things,

And what I missed. The initial material is from the flier that

Was passed out to everyone before the lectures.

Moshe Idel is in no way responsible for my reports of his

Lectures. I have done my best to be as accurate as I could. At

the same time, I should hope that I'm not infringing on his

Copyright by reporting what he said. --Such are the mysteries

of the copyright law!

THE SAMUEL & ALTHEA STROUM LECTURESHIP IN JEWISH STUDIES

Moshe Idel

PARDES: THE QUEST FOR SPIRITUAL PARADISE IN JUDAISM

April 16

Primordial Wisdom: The Philosophers' Quest

April 18

Primordial Light: The Ecstatics' Quest

April 22

PARDES: Between Sefirot and Demonology

The Core of the "Pardes" Tradition: Tosefta Hagigah 2:3-4

Four entered the Orchard (Pardes): Ben Azzai, Ben Zoma, Akher

and Rabbi Aqiva. One peeked and died; one peeked and was

Smitten; one peeked and cut down the shoots; one ascended safely

and descended safely.

Ben Azzai peeked and died. Concerning him Scripture says:

"Precious in the eyes of he Lord is the death of His loyal ones"

(Ps. 16. 15).

Ben Zoma peeked and was smitten. Concerning him Scripture says:

"If you have found honey, eat only your fill lest you become

filled with it and vomit" (Prov. 25:16).

Akher peeked and cut down the shoots. Concerning him Scripture

says: "Do not let your mouth bring your flesh to sin, and do not

say before the angel that it is an error; why should God become

angry at your voice, and ruin your handiwork" (Eccl. 5:5).

Rabbi Aqiva ascended safely and descended safely. Concerning

him Scripture says: "Draw me, let us run after you, the King has

brought me into His chambers" (Song I:4).

Lecture I: Primordial Wisdom: The Philosophers' Quest

Tuesday 16 April 1991, 8:00 pm.

[This is a precis summary; reporter's comments are in square

brackets; otherwise text should be taken as an attempt to

transcribe the gist of what the speaker actually said. The

result is a rather dry, compressed text; typographical devices

have been used to break it up and make it more readable. Some

of these may not transpose well to Net text. I have tried to

regularize the spellings of Hebrew terms, but I'm afraid I've

probably let a number of them vary all over the map.]

[The first lecture was something of a Society event; there was

quite a collection of The Better Sort, who actually toughed it

out through much of the first lecture, if only for the sake of

the reception afterward. Idel's lecture (in thoroughly accented

English) made fewer concessions than one might imagine to a non-

specialist audience. These lectures are usually edifying

cultural events, but Idel used the opportunity to go over

material he was working up for a book. imposing countenances,

who had a reception for themselves and the speaker afterward.]

First, some general observations in an attempt to locate the

Pardes legend in its context.

1: Biblical and Rabbinic Judaism were exoteric in nature: Judaism

was seen as being open, to both the elite and the vulgus [the

crowd, common people, hoi polloi] on the same basis. The idea was

that the knowledge and practice were to be spread, and could be

spread, to all levels of the Jewish nation, and that study of the

Torah was open to all. Religious life was not regarded as

dangerous.

2. This might seem like belaboring the obvious, but it was not

obvious if seen in the context of contemporary cults and

religions, in either the world of early Judaism (with the nature

religions of neighboring nations) or in the Hellenistic world

(with its mystery religions). Judaism insisted on rules binding

on all members, and on public rites, as exemplified by the need

for a quorum to legitimize certain rites. It was collective,

group-oriented, and "nomian," [cf. "antinomian"] that is,

oriented toward practicing a nomos, i.e., the Torah. The attitude

toward the Commandments was summed up in the saying, "You shall

live by them."

3. Thus, in a sense, that Judaism was relatively egalitarian [the

speaker actually said "equalitarian"]. The Law was (in principle)

available to and incumbent upon everyone, and the Law, the nomos,

was the standard. Religious practice was collective, public,

non-sectarian, and not dangerous.

This then is how one can describe the first phases of Judaism,

the Biblical and what might be called the Classical (i.e.

Rabbinic-Midrashic) phases.

But there were also other types of Judaism, cultivated in

smaller circles, as exemplified by the Hekhaloth literature.

These involved contemplation of the Divine vehicles, or the Divine

stature, and involved non-Halakhic techniques for transcending

common experiences in favor of achieving a strong but dangerous

result: the experience or vision of the Merkavah, or of the Divine

body or glory. One finds these efforts expressed in some very

ancient texts, which also link them with dangers and the paying of

a high price. These efforts lead to awful [or aweful] encounters

with angels; their result is the experience of a tremendum. It

seems to have been less than delightful, and it was reserved for

the very few.It is presented in terms that constitute both the

statement of an ideal and a warning against embarking on a quest

for it.

One of the key exemplary texts is the account of the four sages,

the four upright persons, who entered the Pardes, the Orchard or

Garden, all but one of whom were severely damaged by the

experience despite their excellent qualities.

This cannot be taken as a historical document, despite the fact

that these four did live at approximately the same time. This is

not a report of historical events; it should be taken as a

collection of traditions about the effects of entering the Pardes.

Two results were positive: one person died, but remained loyal;

one (Rabbi Aqiva) remained safe. Two results were negative: one

person went mad; the other became a heretic.

Instead of reading this as a biographical account, we should

read it as a typological account, one describing types of

experiences and the types of effects those experiences can have.

From its first appearance, this crucial text was not historical,

but exemplary.

This text is used in different ways in different settings. In

mystical literature, it is used to point out dangers that can

befall the mystic. In Talmudic-Midrashic sources, it is used to

point out the dangers and achievements that are related to

speculations, rather than to experiences. The interpretation of

the account depends on the context in which it is used; thus it is

a mistake to try to establish a single "genuine" meaning common to

all versions.

This account is, then, a parable whose significance is not

explicated, as in Kabbalah: the Pardes is an unexplained parable

for an unrevealed secret. There is a crucial vagueness here, and

one must make the assumption that this sort of vagueness does not

represent a defeat but an opportunity - to introduce new meanings

to an open text, as in Umberto Eco's account of reading texts as

open texts. [Cf. Umberto Eco, The Open Work.] The Pardes be comes

a generalized metaphor for the danger zones of religious

experience, seen as something which is good for the few, but

pernicious for others.

The Pardes story, then, has been (re)interpreted in a variety of

directions; here, we are interested in patterns of interpretation

proposed in the Middle Ages (though the history of the

interpretation of the story could be continued onward from there).

Today: we talk about Maimonides and the philosophical tradition.

Next: about the ecstatic tradition.

Last: about (a) the Divine Sefiroth and (b) the encounter with the

demonic.

In all three streams of interpretation, the vagueness of the

basic story contributed to the richness of the resulting

interpretations.

After the Classical (Rabbinic) period, Judaism underwent two

major changes, one of which was its transformation into an

esoteric religion (at least as understood by some elite masters),

a religion having two levels. An esoteric understanding of

Judaism was a shared feature of various traditions: the Kabbalah,

the classical philosophical schools (e.g. Maimonides), and the

Hasidi Ashkenaz and other medieval mystical groups. This move

involves [though the speaker did not overtly label it, the second

change] the atomization of the collective or the group. The group

is important as a mystical tool in some forms of Kabbalah, but it

plays a restricted role. The core aim of personal redemption, or

the achievement of individual perfection, moved to the forefront.

To understand the underlying secrets, and to behave in accordance

with them: this was crucial to the Jewish elite in the middle

ages. It was a cult of individual attainment, which involved the

reading of its sources as secret messages hidden in canonical

scriptures, messages connected to the goal of salvation.

There were two models for salvation in those scriptures:

salvation as attaining the End, or as returning to the Origin.

Thus the effort to obtain salvation meant either hastening the end

(collectively, this involved messianism), or reaching back to a

lost paradise that had been existing since the beginning. This is

why the concept of Paradise is important in understanding the

meaning of the Pardes, even though they were not originally as

closely connected is it might seem.

"Pardes" actually means an orchard. The actual term for

"Paradise," in the sense of the Garden of Eden, was Gan Eden,

which in the Septuagint was translated by the Greek word for

Paradise [deriving originally from Persian], from which there was

a backward linkage to the Hebrew word Pardes. The two ideas,

originally different, came to explain or amplify each other.

Thus, the dangers associated with Gan Eden [the angel with the

flaming sword] and Pardes also converged: both came to represent

dangerous ideals, and ideal dangers.

The Pardes story then came to have as a subtext the story of

Paradise (Gan Eden). It became a common effort of medieval

commentators to explain the story of Paradise by means of the

story of Pardes. The attempt to escape ritual and return to

Paradise was a threat to Judaism as a religion [i.e., as a

religion based on ritual and the Law]; thus, it could not be

proposed openly as a goal. Any attempt to enter Pardes then was

an entry into a dangerous zone. Classical Judaism was not

escapist: that is, it did not involve an attempt to transcend

history. The transcendental ideal could stand as an ideal for the

few, but it was an ideal that was dangerous to (or if adopted by)

the many; it thus had to be reserved to the few to stop escapist

religious trends.

Maimonides' interpretation, in summary, took perfect philosophy

as the wisdom of Adam, lost but retrievable by some (perfect)

persons, e.g., R. Aqiva. To be in Paradise, from this point of

view, was to be a philosopher. Philosophy is perfection in the

present; Paradise is perfection in the past and in the future.

The ideal of philosophy is to exist in continuous contemplation.

When the Primordial Man fell: he was [or became] unable to stay in

the state of perfect philosophy.

The Pardes story, however, points out a path of return, and

suggests an analysis of Judaism as a project of return to perfect

philosophy. It points out both techniques and possible problems.

The first part of Maimonides major Halakhic work is where he

explains the meaning of Pardes - but of course, since he was a

Rabbi, he doesn't explain it openly. He mentions that it is a

matter of the [four?] key "themes dealt with in the preceding

chapters," leaving the reader to select which of the many themes

are the key themes. Though all four of the characters in the

story were great men of Israel, not all had the capacity to grasp

the subject clearly. For him, then, the Pardes is linked to

speculation: it is something to be known, something that must be

grasped clearly, rather than a mystical experience. Maimonides

states that it is not proper to walk in the Pardes without being

filled with bread and meat, i.e., knowledge of what is permitted

and forbidden, i.e., without having had a solid Rabbinic

education. Why is this? Because knowledge of these things gives

composure to the mind. Maimonides presents Jewish law as a way of

achieving a certain stability, a mastery of lust and imagination.

The Commandments are a sine qua non, the basis for the requisite

composure.

The Law, then, gives one the possibility of calming the mind, of

mastering imagination and lust, in order to be able ... to study

Aristotle. By which he meant, to study the Physics and

Metaphysics.

This study has two major dangers. One is the cognitive or

classical or Aristotelian: a misunderstanding of physics and

metaphysics due to imaginative distortion of reality. One's

understanding [or the clarity of one's understanding] can be

spoiled by one's [non- rational] inclinations.

There is also the Platonic danger: the political implications

better not understood by the masses, as in Book l [Book XII] of

the Metaphysics.

Not all of the four Masters, then, were calm enough, educated

enough, to grasp Aristotelian metaphysics.

There are two ways of understanding Maimonides' position here:

one exoteric, the other esoteric.

The exoteric understanding would take the historical Adam as the

perfect philosopher, brought down into a fallen state by the last

remnants of desire and fantasy. Thus our current condition of

isolation from philosophic truth would be the historical result of

Adam's fall.

The esoteric reading, however, is that the state of the

Primordial Man is always open to us, always available at any time

- as, too, is the sin of Adam. In principle, at least. Kafka has

an interpretation of the expulsion from Paradise that can be taken

as a key to the esoteric reading of Maimonides' position.

According to that interpretation, the Expulsion from Paradise is

final, and life in this world is irrevocable. It is eternal in

nature. [I.e., it is an event "in eternity," rather than in

history.] At the same time we are continuously in Paradise,

whether we realize it or not. Thus neither the Expulsion nor the

Paradisal state are historical events: they are structures of

experience open to each of us. This is also, by the way, the

Kabbalistic interpretation developed by Abulafia, who was the

first to treat the Pardes as an ongoing experience. His

interpretation was very similar to Kafka's. "Anyone who enters

Pardes has to enter in peace and exit in peace."

This spiritualistic reading, that the Pardes is not a matter of

history but is open to anyone, proposes a spiritualistic typology,

a scheme of typical experiences or states that can be actualized

at any time. History becomes unimportant. By studying Bible,

Talmud, Kabbalah, philosophy, we become aware of what can happen

in experience.

This reading seems to do justice to certain passages in

Maimonides about people "of the rank of R. Aqiva." History

disappears: The Bible, Talmud, Aristotle - all speak about inner

experiences related only to the elite because they are dangerous,

but which are to be pointed out to the masses to orient them, to

give them the sense that Judaism is more than its ritual.

This approach still assumes that there is danger, but Judaism is

here seen as trying to cope with the problem of the dangerous

ideal. The ideal may be dangerous, but it is to be cultivated.

This formulation becomes a way of balancing ritualistic approaches

against the explosion of metaphysical speculations that might

endanger the observance of the ritual.

The aim is not merely to propose philosophy but to use

Aristotelian psychology and metaphysics to point to meditations on

secret Judaism, to introduce a new paradigm for understanding

Judaism. Thus, Maimonides was able to begin a tradition of

interpretation (which lasted from about the 14th to the 18th

centuries) which took ritual as means of introduction to

philosophy. This interpretation fortifies the place of ritual,

yet puts it in its place, shows that it is not final. It is

needed, but in a way to be transcended - by the few, for whom a

higher ideal is needed, that of the Pardes.

Next time, we talk not about philosophic speculation but about

ecstatic experience, the encounter with a terrible Light, the

Primordial Light.

QUESTIONS

Question: The aim is to master the corporeal, which if not

understood will distort one's grasp of reality? Then

for Maimonides there was a specific absolute reality?

Answer: Yes. He believed a certain metaphysics was true. His was

not a modern, Heideggerian philosophy. For him, God was

the sum of the intelligibilia, as was the case for other

medieval philosophers. God was taken as the great

intelligence. There was a negative theology, but there

was also a positive theology.

Question: What about the Pardes story and the Ari?

Answer: A very complex issue - and another story.

Q: Kafka wrote about Maimonides-

A: Not about Maimonides, but Genesis.

Q: Genesis then. If the expulsion is eternal...

A: We are expelled all the time from Paradise, but it is here. We

are out and in at the same time. It is a matter of each of us.

That is why the Fall is not final.

Q: The Halakha becomes then a means - is it time- bound? May

there be other means at other times for Maimonides?

A: Halakha remains necessary all the time. It is not like a

ladder. Desires are always present. Halakhic discipline is

not simply preliminary: it is needed all the time - it too is

eternal. [Cf. the Great Chain of Being, or Crowley's

understanding of initiatory hierarchy.]

Q: Why is this in the Mishne Torah, not in the Guide?

A: To Maimonides, the code of behavior is an introduction to the

Pardes. He starts with the Pardes, only then to go on to talk

about the Law. The Pardes is integral to the Mishne Torah.

Q: What then does the RamBam have to say about the Messiah?

A: There is only one hint - Perfect Philosophy is Paradise,

personal salvation. Each of us then is his own Messiah, and we

don't need another Messiah - as individuals. As a collective,

it is another story. The Messiah is needed to embody a certain

political, social, et cetera, state.

Q: And Halakha is a mechanism to reach that experience?

A: Yes.

Q: What about the discussion of the Castle in the Guide?

A: In III:51 of the Guide of the Perplexed, Maimonides mentions

Ben Zoma - among rabbis expert only in Halakha, unable to

understand metaphysics. Thus they are outside the castle.

Q: Is there any significance in this to the fact that some of

Maimonides' students were not Jewish, but Muslim?

A: I'm not aware of any advanced students who were Muslim. There

were Muslims who were followers, who studied the Guide...

Q: But there was a Muslim who studied Aristotle with Maimonides;

we have diaries...

A: I don't know about that.

Q: Esotericism was widespread-

A: But Maimonides was not in Baghdad.

Q: This was in Egypt...

Q: What is the nature of danger in the Kabbalah?

A: Danger is associated with individual initiative. Danger enters

with the desire for the paranormal, for the transcendent

experience, the desire to go beyond the communal experience.

Q: What about the use of PARDES as a code [an acrostic] for the

four ways of interpreting the Torah?

A: It did become that, but only later, long after Maimonides, with

Kabbalists in Spain and Italy. But there is a huge amount of

material available, and I had to select it very even inside

this narrow topic in order to be able to give a manageable

lecture. There is material for a year's worth of lectures for

any of these topics.

II: The Primordial Light: The Ecstatics' Quest Thursday 18 April

1991

--------------------------------------------------------

[The introduction to the lecture mentioned that the lecture

series would eventually be coming out as a book to be

published by the University of Washington Press.]

[The introducer mentioned an article in the Jerusalem Post

about Scholem and Idel. Idel has established the basis for a

critical look at Scholem's work. Scholem's approach was

historical and contextual: he interpreted the Kabbalah as a

system of thought. Idel's approach is phenomenological: he

endeavors to discern what the symbolism and ritual meant to

those who practised it. For Idel, the Kabbalah is not a

system of ideas but a practical path to mystical experience.

For Scholem, Kabbalah entered Judaism from the outside, and

was the result of the influence of Greek gnosticism on

Rabbinic Judaism. It was, in effect, an alien heresy with an

underground existence. For Idel, Kabbalah is an esoteric

tradition flowing from within Judaism itself, though with

links and correspondences with other mystical traditions.

Idel feels that the study of the manuscript tradition has just

barely begun, and that therefore most of the field has yet to

be explored. He also feels that even the most theoretical

texts are experientially oriented. This has led him to try to

reconstruct the techniques that were actually used. He has

done so in part through observation of practices of

ultra-Orthodox communities in Israel - and they in turn have

come to him for technical advice on reading and understanding

their texts.]

There is another paradigm through which the story of the entry to

Pardes can be read - one which is not philosophical, but ecstatic.

This variety of paradigms by the way is very important. It shows

that Jews were less interested in establishing a unified theology

than they were in finding secret interpretations that would

attract many different kinds of people. They were open to having

a different way for each sort of person. This is a sign of the

openness of the elite culture to allowing different approaches for

a variety of people - not so much to attract the masses, but to

allow for diversity among the elite.

This second interpretation of the Pardes was the result of the

merger of Jewish mysticism and Neoplatonic philosophy. For

Maimonides, it was a Pardes ha Chokmah, a Pardes of Knowledge. It

had to do with the solution to cognitive problems. For

Maimonides, Adam was lost in contemplation of metaphysical truths.

Thus, for Maimonides, R. Aqiva was the central figure, the most

perfect of the four sages.

But for some Kabbalists at the beginning of the Thirteenth

Century the major figure was not R. Aqiva but Ben Azzai, the

Talmudic master who died. For them, the Pardes was not a matter

of intellect, but of the experience of a supreme light. This

Light was not an intellectual or conceptual light, but an

experiential light.

Ancient Jewish textual material is rich in emphasis on the

importance of light - as in Genesis, where Light is the first

created entity. Midrashic texts portray Adam as an entity of

Light, and as having garments of Light, which were lost after his

expulsion from Eden. In this tradition, the basic activity of

Adam was the contemplation of the Light, of the Shekinah. The

"Light of the Shekinah" is a key term in these texts.

Both Pardes and Paradise, in this tradition, are seen as full of

Light. Adam's experience in the Fall is the loss of the

possibility of contemplating the Light. The loss of garments of

Light leads to their replacement by garments of skin (a pun in

Hebrew). This loss of the possibility of experience of the Light

is crucial in ancient Hebrew texts.

For example, in the Book of Adam and Seth (as preserved in

Armenia): "But Adam .. in being stripped of the Divine Light ..

became an equal of the dumb beasts. Enoch for forty days and

nights did not eat. Then he planted a garden .. and was in it

for 552 years. Then he was taken up into heaven ...." [The

quotation was quite a bit longer; unfortunately, I couldnot keep

up.] This portrays an attempt by Enoch to reconstruct and

re-enter the situation of Adam. This is a basic pattern in later

discussions of the Pardes texts: an attempt to return to the

ability to contemplate the Light as Adam once did.

In the Hekhaloth texts, too, the idea of Light is paramount.

Pardes is described as full of the radiance of Light.

There is a manuscript text by an unknown author - one which I

needed some 60 pages to analyze, so we can only deal witha small

part of it here. There are some ten lines in it about Ben Azzai

(who did not return). "Ben Azzai peeked and died. He gazed at

the radiance of the Divine Presence like a man with weak eyes who

gazes at the full light of the sun and becomes blinded by the

intensity of the light that overwhelms him... He did not wish to

be separated, he remained hidden in it, his soul was covered and

adorned ... he remained where he had cleaved, in the Light to

which no one may cling and yet live." [Quotation approximate]

This text portrays people gazing not at a Chariot or a marble

throne, but at the radiance of God (Tzvi ha Shekinah), a light so

strong that no one can bear it. The idea of "overwhelming" is

textually crucial. The idea of having a great desire to cleave,

as described in the medieval text, is new. In ancient literature,

contemplation is of something far away, across an unbridgeable

gap. There is no idea there of love, only of awe. Here, however,

we see a trace of a radical change: the intensity of the

experience is linked with a great desire to cleave to the radiance

of the Shekinah. There is a strong experience of union with the

Divine, the result of a desire to enter and become a part of the

Divine realm. There is an attempt to enjoy the Divine without

interruption. The language of desire implies erotic overtones to

the experience, especially since "Shekinah" in Hebrew is feminine.

The text then is speaking about an attempt to cleave to a feminine

aspect of the Divine - also a development unique to the medieval

literature (and not found in the ancient literature). And also

the idea of "sweet radiance" has erotic overtones.

So what happened? He couldn't return from the experience. The

Hebrew terms are very strong. After his death he was "hidden away

in the place of his cleaving." This death was the death of the

pious ones whose souls are separated from all concerns with the

mundane world, and who cleave to the supernal world. It was, in

other words, not an accident but an achievement.

There is a threefold structure implied here, reminiscent of

Christian and Neoplatonic mysticism. The first phase is the via

purgativa, "Those who are separated from all concerns of the lowly

world." The second phase is the via illuminativa. The third

phase is the via unitiva. There is here a combination of ancient

Jewish material with pagan or Christian Neoplatonist material to

portray or interpret the experience of Ben Azzai. This

interpretive paradigm continued in active use from the Thirteenth

through the Eighteenth centuries, where it was used among the

Hasidim. It was a tradition that lasted 600 to 700 years, and it

is exactly the kind of tradition it is hard to study without

looking at manuscripts.

This text was also copied by a Thirteenth Century Kabbalist who

gave it an even stronger nuance of mysticism. Ben Azzai died

because of the cleaving of his soul out of a great love; his soul

didn't return because he reached a great attainment. The

assumption: out of intense love, his cleaving was total. Later,

there were even stronger formulations, in which the soul and the

Light become one entity.

This text is one example of texts dealing with the unio mystica.

It allows for bridging in a total manner the gap between man and

God. This is another example of the formative power of the

Neoplatonic mystical tradition, as it also expressed itself in

Christianity and Islam.

However, for the Kabbalists the major events took place in the

past. He is reporting not on a contemporary but on Ben Azzai. Is

this simply a matter of an intepretation? Or is there something

more to it - a practical interest? Can we extract from the

sources a method, a practice?

In my opinion, since the end of the Thirteen Century there is

evidence that there were experiences of Light connected with the

story of Ben Azzai and the Kabbalists who discussed it - but this

is not always simple to demonstrate.

Another anonymous text, written in 1290 or so in Galilee,

describes a technique, and afterward describes a personal

experience characterized by amazement, confusion, and a need for

clarification and interpretation. Its author describes the Divine

Light as attracting the Light of the soul, "which is weak in

relation to the Divine Light." (There is a magnetic metaphor

here, and we can see in this adoption of non-traditional metaphors

an attempt to come to terms with personal experience.) This

experience was the result of letter-combination techniques. Later

the anonymous Kabbalist attempts to describe how he approached a

master to learn a technique to stop the experience. Thus,

discussing this experience in terms of the story of Ben Azzai is

an attempt to relate personal experience to a model. It is not

simply an attempt to provide an interpretation for the story of

Ben Azzai.

Another ecstatic Kabbalist also relates his experience to the

story of Ben Azzai: "If a man does that which his soul wishes in

the proper ways of hitbodeduth, his soul is immersed in this light

and he will die like Ben Azzai."

The Kabbalists tried to reach the pre-fall state of the

Primordial Man, to enteragain the radiance of the Shekinah, and

even to enter a certain erotic relationship with the Divine

Presence, as later we find in the Zohar in other forms. They also

provided, by the end of the Thirteenth Century, certain detailed

techniques. "By letter combinations, unifications, and reversals

of letters, he shall call up the Tree of Knowledge of Good and

Evil... [list of encounter with various polarized qualities and

entities, e.g., Mercy and Severity] ... he will be in danger of

the same death as Ben Azzai."

Beginning with the end of the Fourteenth Century, there are

descriptions of Kabbalists studying together, and of each

observing the others to see if they become luminous. "Likewise

today, if someone will look at the faces of students who are

worshipping out of love .. you will see on them the radiance of

the Divine Presence so that those who see them will be afraid, and

each of them will have the radiance of the Divine Presence

according to his rank." There is, in other words, the expectation

of a corporeally observable radiance.

For Maimonides the experience of the Pardes was mental, with no

outward sign; for the Kabbalists it was corporeal and visible.

For Maimonides, God was an intellect; for the Kabbalists, God was

a radiance.

For Maimonides, Adam was a perfect intellect; for the Kabbalists,

Adam was a creature of Light.

For Maimonides, Paradise and Pardes were intellectual (cerebral)

states; for the Kabbalists, they were corporeal, sensuous, erotic,

sexual and an object for practical striving.

The Kabbalists developed techniques - Maimonides had no clear

method.

The Kabbalists attempted to describe techniques, and signs of

attainment.

Thus the Kabbalistic tradition is not one of speculations about

mysticism; it is full-fledged mysticism. In the Kabbalistic

tradition, an extreme type of experience is sought out and

considered positive.

The mystical death is the real goal of ecstatic Kabbalah. For

Maimonides, the ideal is to remain in a state of intellection.

For the ecstatic Kabbalists, extreme experience is final

experience.

The Pardes was thus idealized by Jewish mystics, and given new

meanings. This idealization opened another avenue, one exploited

especially by Eighteenth Century Hasidic mysticism. We can see a

continuous line from the beginning of the Kabbalah up to the

founder of the modern Hasidic movement who himself quoted parts of

the same text. This can be understood as an inner Jewish

development, and not a historical accident.

Questions

Q: Did all Kabbalists wish actual death? For those who did not,

what was the rationale for not wanting it?

A: That is a matter of the mystic's role in society. Moses, it is

said, wanted to die, to leave the world, to remain in a state

of union. But God said he had a role as a mystic - to reach

the extreme and yet return. But that is not the case for all

Kabbalists: not all of them were oriented toward society.

There as also a controversy about the desirability of it, but

the idea that it could be achieved was admitted on all sides of

the controversy. It was not theologically denied. Even those

who opposed it admitted that a total union was possible.

Q: In that case, how was Aqiva understood?

A: He was understood as someone who could balance, who could enter

and leave. Aqiva (like Moses) could enter, but he knew when to

retreat. He knew how to combine the two.

Q: On Tuesday you discussed the role of Halakhic ritual as a way

of controlling impulses, for Maimonides. Tonight you did not

mention it at all. Did it have a role?

A: Maimonides was a Halakhist. But most of the Kabbalists we have

mentioned were not. Most were anonymous - they were not

Halakhic masters, but mystics. For them, keeping the norms was

not as important as reaching beyond the norms. Basically, they

were a-nomian. They did not regard the Commandments as a major

tool. They might be preparatory, but they were not final.

Q: Certainly not all aspects of Halakha would have been neutral:

it afforded major opportunities for ecstatic experiences on

certain feasts, for example...

A: These Kabbalists were not unobservant, they were not

antinomian. But as mystics (rather than as Jews) they used

other types of rituals or techniques. Ritual anyway would be

suspended at the peaks of ecstatic experience, when one cannot

do anything. The issue is not simple - but there seems to have

been no friction. It is highly significant that there are no

critiques of the use of mystical techniques, e.g., of combining

Divine Names. Their practice probably did not interfere with

regular Halakhic observances.

Q: How did such experiences tend to affect their experience of the

material world? Did it enhance their opinion of it? Lower it?

A: Here we touch on the paradoxical connection of the mystic and

the prophetic mission. As ecstatics, they were escapist. But

they also felt that the experience prompted or provoked a

mission. In coming back, the return was interpreted as a being

sent forth, as having a mission. This offered a rationale for

coming back. "You are permitted to return if you are needed."

Thus there was a tension between the drive for attainment and

the feeling of a mission.

Q: What about free will? Could one say that Ben Azzai got what he

wanted, and that Aqiva got what he wanted?

A: Not exactly. At a moment in an experience one may be caught up

or captured by another dynamic. You may lose control; free

will may be overwhelmed, overridden.

Q: Is there an attempt to revive these things in Israel?

A: Yes; some are studying and practising these techniques.

Q: For example?

A: Breathing, letter combination - I have contacted at least ten

people I know.

Q: They base this on Kabbalistic descriptions?

A: They ARE Kabbalists.

Q: In this Kabbalistic context God is described as radiance,

energy, but in basic Judaism God is also anthropomorphic,

interested in the world. Is there a connection?

A: If one is speaking about erotic experience, there must be some

sense of a personalistic object. The Kabbalists tried to

compromise between anthropomorphic and spiritualistic content.

The Sefiroth were seen as a structure of Light, but also as

corporeal. They were able to shape the anthropomorphic content

to a more spiritual, energic model.

[Afterward, as is usual at such lectures, people approached the

speaker with congratulations, comments, and assorted questions.

Two stand out.]

[A thin, intense young man kept asking Idel about energy

experiences, and the sense of "energy coming in," and asked if

anyone had done any EEG studies of Kabbalists. Idel said that

Judaic studies were still in their infancy; mostly they were

textual studies, an attempt to figure out what the texts

actually said and what they were about - and even just to find

them and get them edited and printed. No one had gotten to

doing anything else, though he knew of the work by Ornstein and

others, and thought it would be interesting to do in a

Kabbalistic context.]

[The young man, consumed by his questioning, didn't quite see

Idel's point about the emphasis on textual scholarship; Idel

gradually realized the young man wanted advice about his own

meditational experiences, and was a little taken aback, and

tried to achieve polite closure.]

[Idel turned to another questioner, who asked something

textual:]

Q: You mentioned that these techniques became discussed and

elaborated in the Thirteenth Century or so. Is there any

textual evidence for their source?

A: Yes; in fact some of them can be found in texts of the

Hellenistic period, especially those involving breathing and

letter combination and visualization. They seem to be a part

of a general fund of such techniques at the time, parallel to

similar things one finds in Hellenistic magical papyri, for

example.

[Then, as though realizing then that the young man's questions

{about what it meant when energy came in, as opposed to finding

oneself elsewhere, about the dangers of possession, and so on}

were pressing, Idel turned back {despite attempts by various

professors to ease him out of the hall} and began quietly to

address himself to his queries.]

[end of part II]

--------------------------------------------------

III: Pardes: From Sefiroth to Demonology Monday 22 April 1991

We have already examined two paradigms for reading the story of

the entry into Pardes. Tonight, I want to talk about two others:

the Theosophical and Theurgical paradigms. The paradigms already

covered in the first two lectures, different though they were, had

a common feature: both deal with inner experience, whether

intellectualistic or ecstatic. The drama takes place in

consciousness. Even if ecstasy involves possession, it is still

occurring in human consciousness.

The Divine is not affected by the entrance of the philosopher or

mystic into the Pardes. This activity only affects the human

intellect or soul - not the Divine.

The two other paradigms also have an assumption in common: that

the entry into the Pardes has a deep effect on the non- human

realms. In the Theosophical paradigm, the Divine is not a simple

entity, but a system of divine powers. The entry into the Pardes

influences the relationships between these divine powers. The

other paradigm, the Theurgic, involves an influence on, or

struggle with, the demonic realm. These two may seem quite

different, but, according the Kabbalah, the demonic and the Divine

share a common anthropomorphic structure. The Sefiroth are

prototypes for the demonic as well as the Divine realms. Both

paradigms, then, deal with attempts to affect the structure and

relationship of external entities, either by inducing harmony in

the Divine world or by combatting some aspect of the demonic

world.

In both cases, the Pardes again represents a danger zone: an

aspect of these realms that is too strong for most mortals. And

both approaches, in their reading of the Pardes story, take as the

key figure that of Akher, or Elisha ben Abuya, the heretical

figure, he who "peeked and cut the shoots." He is seen as one who

was unable to understand appropriately either the sefirotic or

Demonic realm.

I would like to deal first with the demonic, so that we can

finish with something more positive. The basic assumption of this

type of Kabbalah became important around the end of the Thirteenth

Century (it is not generally found earlier): that the knowledge of

the structure of the demonic is the most profound form of

Kabbalah, the most recondite. A commonly used name for members of

this tradition can be translated, "The More Profound Kabbalists."

Their texts run to long lists of evil angels, and detailed

discussions of the relationships between the demonic and the

Divine. The tradition also includes a strong reinterpretation of

the Pardes story. In this tradition, it was held (e.g. by Moses

de Leon) that it was a religious duty to know, and pursue

knowledge of, the demonic world - but not to be immersed in it.

Only when one has the ability to distinguish good and evil can one

truly know the good, and truly worship God. But this must be done

so that one is not attracted by or immersed in or inundated by the

demonic realm.

Thus, one also finds in these texts long lists of sinners, with

Akher as the last major figure.

These sinners were those who were attracted by the demonic realm,

who were, in essence, sexually seduced by it. They were those who

had become immersed in a certain commerce or intercourse with

demonic sexual figures. Thus one finds Adam (seduced by Lilith),

and Solomon, whose "thousand wives" were regarded as a multitude

of demonic powers, and Balaam, said to have had intercourse with

his ass. These figures were all seduced into sin. Sexual

attraction, then, becomes an explanation of the power of the

Pardes, which one must understand but not be immersed in.

Why did this paradigm arise at the end of the Thirteenth Century?

Most of the Kabbalists who used it lived in Castile, where there

was a certain phenomenon of Jews having sexual relations with

Christians, or, more often, with Muslims. There are discussions

of this phenomenon in de Leon and others: the fascination with the

Other is there portrayed as a demonic attraction.

Now, there is a basic pattern well-known in the history of

religions, often called "katabasis:" the descent into hell to

perform some rite. Usually the katabasis is a salvific descent -

an attempt to rescue some of the dwellers in hell (though

generally not demons). But in Cabalistic tradition it often ends

negatively: the person who makes the descent is unable to surface.

Already in the Talmud Ben Abuya is described as being in some

relationship with a prostitute. Kabbalists exploited this to

portray him as indulging in sexual transgression.

The others are portrayed as more successful. R. Aqiva entered,

but did not get involved. A parallel was seen with Abraham, who

descended into Egypt (often taken as a type of the demonic realm)

and who was able to emerge in peace. Another similarity was found

with Noah, who experienced the Flood but who came out in safety.

This is, in other words, a typological approach. The Pardes story

is used to summarize certain prototypical stories from Adam

onward. That the interpretations are typological is obvious

because of the range of figures adduced to make the point. One of

the most exciting is the projection of the Pardes story onto the

Biblical story of Samson. At the beginning, Samson is able into a

relationship with Delilah, and ultimately he is able to destroy

the realm of evil. Samson met Delilah in the equivalent of

Pardes: in a vineyard. All of these are instances that indicate

that medieval Jewish hermeneutics was in fact very typological -

which quite contradicts the claims of certain modern scholars, who

see the typological approach as typical of scholastic philosophy,

and not at all Jewish.

This approach remains, from the Thirteenth Century up through the

Lurianic Kabbalah, where it reaches an apex.

The other paradigm I wish to consider addresses itself to the

Sephirotic realm. This paradigm was typical of those Kabbalists

who assumed that the crucial issue was to induce or re-induce the

harmony in the Divine spheres which had been disturbed by

primordial human transgression. There were two metaphors for the

Divine: that of the Tree, and (to simplify) the anthropomorphic

one of the couple. In the latter, the first nine Sefiroth were

taken as male, and the last as female. The basic sin of Akher was

to break the connection between the first nine and the tenth (seen

as the shoots, or as a female figure). The challenge created by

this transgression is to see the Pardes as a Garden.

In Paradise, the transgression was the separation of the fruit

from the tree, projected on high. The transgression was not

eating, but separating one aspect of the Divine from the rest. By

separating the fruit from the Tree, Akher (or Adam) separated

aspects of the Divine from each other, thus inducing a disturbance

in the Divine realm often referred to as "the devastation of the

plantations." Even more dangerously, by affecting the Divine

world in this way you are prone to accept the assumption that

there are two different powers, to believe no longer in a Unity on

high, but a Duality. In the moment of separation, in other words,

the possibility of a dualistic misunderstanding arises. The

challenge, then, is to heal this rupture, which took place in the

primordial era.

The work of restoring the lost unity is open to Jews in general,

but especially to the Kabbalists, by the use of Jewish ritual,

which is seen as a Theurgical technique, i.e., one able to

influence God (which is one way of understanding the word

"theurgy"). According to the Theosophical- Theurgical Kabbalah,

the major role of the Kabbalist is to restore the organic unity

between the Divine powers.

It is, in a sense, the transposition of the mystical project

into another key, the attempt to repair the rupture in the Divine

(rather than between the human and the Divine) induced by human

transgression.

R. Aqiva, then, was seen as one who was able to act

ritualistically to restore the relationship between the two last

Sefiroth [the ninth and the tenth]. This projected a certain type

of sacramental value onto Jewish ritual which was absent in other

forms of Kabbalah or in Maimonides. In other traditions, the

individual was the center. But in these demonic or Sephirotic

pursuits, the focus is on repairing the cosmos, on inducing a more

harmonious state in general, in the nation, and in the cosmos.

The last issue I wish to consider involves making a comparative

observation about the distribution of the discussions of the

Pardes story. It is found of course in ancient literature, but in

the medieval period, surprisingly (and this surprised me when I

first looked into this question), only the Sephardi were

interested in it. It does not appear in medieval Ashkenazi texts.

The Sephardic literature is less interested in the Talmud and the

Hekhaloth, and more interested in the Pardes. It was in the

Sephardi literature that the interpretations we have discussed

were invented.

Now, Sephardi culture was in much more open contact with alien

cultures, and thus more endangered. Muslim (and even Christian

philosophic/scholastic) culture were perceived as a danger, and

openness to it was experienced as a danger - a dangerous ideal.

Ashkenazi society of the period was closed; there was not much

scholarly interchange with other cultures. Ashkenazi culture was

very confident, and it was not open precisely because it was

confident that Jewish culture was the highest form of religion.

Thus for it there was no dangerous ideal. The story of "Entering

Pardes," then, did not meet any cultural need, because there was

no sense of cultural danger. Even later, in the Sixteenth

Century, when the Pardes story is discussed, the discussion is

inspired by Sephardi literature, and this is true even up to the

mid-Eighteenth Century. But by the Nineteenth Century, a deep

change has occurred: all interest in the Pardes theme is found

among the Ashkenazim. This, I think, is connected with the entry

into interaction with general culture, with the Enlightenment.

There came to be a need to explain the meaning of this

interaction. Elisha ben Abuya, in fact, could be seen as one of

the major protagonists in much modern Hebrew literature.

It was, then, cultural exposure and openness which invoked,

provoked, and evoked (all three!) the interest in the Pardes

theme. The Pardes story explained the encounter between the

Jewish and other mentalities. In fact, this may also be the

explanation for the Talmudic treatment of Elisha Akher, especially

if he is taken as a Gnostic, as modern scholars often do. Even

the early forms of his story, then, would typify the encounter of

Jews with a general culture - in this case, a Gnostic culture.

Akher would be someone open to a non-Jewish type of culture -

though in fact it is hard to be sure which of many it might have

been.

There area as many different scholarly Elishas as there were

contemporary cultures. Akher typifies a situation in which there

is a willingness to be open, but a danger of being unable to

return to one's patrimony. There is a danger that one will be

seduced by, and remain immersed in, philosophy, Gnosticism,

Neo-Platonism ... or whatnot. His plight is used to describe an

existential situation in which Jews found themselves between

Judaism and a general culture that fascinated and endangered them.

Questions

Q: Is there any connection between these interpretations and a

current of opposition to Maimonides?

A: Well, I don't believe in single explanations. All of these

Cabalistic explanations became published or exposed after the

period of Maimonides. Most Cabalists were probably acquainted

with Maimonides. But this was probably not so much a matter of

a silent polemic with Maimonides as a matter of a tension

between a ritualistic and experiential approach and an

intellectualistic one (often regarded as alien).

Q: One interpretation of the Pardes theme is of an entry into the

demonic sphere. How was this combat carried out?

A: By the commandments - mitzvoth. The idea was to explore, and

attempt to subdue, by performing the Commandments in a

Cabalistic manner, thus extricating some part of the demonic

world. In the Sephirotic realm, by means of the positive

commandments, one worked to unify the Divine world; by

observing the prohibitions, one could subdue (but not

eradicate) the demonic world. The Kabbalists were quite uneasy

with the idea of destroying an aspect of reality, even a

demonic one. As a part of reality it was needed, and had to be

not destroyed but managed or coped with.

Q: How is the Pardes story understood and used by Kabbalists now?

A: I don't know. I haven't yet discussed this with them. After I

make up my mind on the basis of the texts, then I will go to

them and see what they think.

Q: What about Ben Zoma: how was he seen?

A: As someone who had progressed to a certain level, but who was

not able to enter metaphysics, so to speak. He forced himself

into the Physics, but he became mentally disturbed. The

ecstatic Kabbalists took him as one who had entered the strong

experience and become crazy. Others assumed that he had been

damaged by the demonic world. But he did not receive much

treatment as an ideal type, unlike Akher or Ben Azai, or Elisha

the prototype of imperfection. Ben Zoma was not a strong type,

he was not so interesting, so he was not taken as a type. And

I have not found him interesting enough to discuss much

myself...

Q: What if you are in a group having religious experiences, can

you then go out into the world to change the world?

A: Look: most Kabbalists functioned at a social level. Some were

leaders, and were very important members of their communities,

so often they naturally were social figures. But even ecstatic

Kabbalists who were sometimes very individualistic became

messianic in their external activities. Most known Kabbalists

contributed the perfection of the Divine, or of individual

perfection, in service of messianic aims. The same by the way

is often true of non-Jewish mysticism, which could also be a

way to energize the personality to return to the group in an

activist manner.

4

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