The Mystical Magic of Judaism

The Mystical Magic of Judaism 

Buried Beneath its Modernity 

A young woman’s rekindling of faith and self-discovery 

 

 

For the majority of my nineteen years, I identified as a non-religious Jew. Proud of my ancestral heritage, and Ashkenazi culture, but cynical of any ‘Godly’ concept my Orthodox shul had taught. 

 

Much like other teenagers on social media, I fell into the all-consuming resurrection of spiritual teachings and the witchcraze. Once minority communities were now becoming the online popular mainstream, with politically aware, feminist Gen-Z’s creating magical spell jars and discussing mass awakenings. I was entranced, enlightened by the spiritually woke society I was discovering. It felt like I’d finally found others relating to my appreciation of the natural world, love of occultism, from protective amulets to manifesting intention. Little did I know I was seemingly blind to the ironic facade, the oblivious appropriation and oppression seeping under the community’s surfaces. 

 

February 2020, I visited the concentration camps in Poland. Despite compelling me to interrogate my pre-existing uncertainty and distrust in God, I’d felt nothing but immense pride, and an empowering unity between my Judaism and my spirituality. The endurance, courage and unconquerable will of my people, through centuries of expulsions and executions, hadn’t quite resonated with me until this experience. 

 

Lockdown 2020, I truly began to explore Judaism, discovering aspects I wanted to challenge, defend, but particularly, the parts which resonated with me most.  Whilst the Halachah rulings in the Talmud, and the religious teachings from the Torah were fascinating openings for future research, the enclosing impact of coronavirus left me craving something a little more escapist, magical, and unexpectedly more traditional than I’d assumed.

 

The first barricade I encountered along my journey of self, faith and belief, was Tiktok’ s Wiccan community and their archetypal Goddess or ‘deity’, Lilith. I knew I had no passion to worship or idolize figures as others did, but my interest in mythology intrigued me. Admittedly, I liked what she stood for. She was powerful, independent, the first wife of Adam who had refused to submit, a dangerously beautiful spirit who stood for equality, feminism… and cultural appropriation. For it wasn’t until reading Rabbi Geoffrey Dennis’ Jewish Myth, Magic and Mysticism, and Instagram page ‘@jewitches’ that I understood. Lilith was anything but a goddess. Originating from the Babylonian Talmud and Kabbalistic demonology, ancient Jewish folklore describes Lilith as a queen of demons, the cause of infant death, and the female personification of cosmic evil.

 

It seemed my Jewish culture, its rich folklore, closed-practices and mystic texts were being appropriated, or as with much of Judaic history, erased.

 

The medieval and esoteric practise of Jewish mysticism, Kabbalah, teaches the inner dimensions of the Torah, and the metaphysical nature and wisdom of mankind and creation. It then made perfect sense to me why Jewish scholars advise against its study, unless one is emotionally mature enough, and knowledgeable in Judaism, to handle its intense spiritual nature. It became abundantly clear to me upon researching misinterpreted adaptations ‘Cabala’ (Christian Kabbalah) and ‘Qabalah’ (Westernised Kabbalah), that much like our vast past of oppression and injustice, these forms stole Jewish thought with an intent to convert, bastardise or supplement inherent Jewish belief.

 

I began to venture deeper into the millennial mania surrounding witchcraft and modern spirituality, an enthusiasm and belief system I seemed to share. Before performing a spell, in essence, projecting an intention or desire for the universe to listen and respond to, one can cast a protective circle, typically made from salt. It was less of a surprise and more of a bitter irony to find, that this too, has origins in ancient and contemporary Jewish practice. Chabad’s website describes salt as an “axiom of Kabbalistic thought”, the “devolved form of a higher spiritual entity”. Similarly, modern witchcraft and spirituality’s amulets and sigils, physical or inscribed symbols to represent a manifestation of energy or intent, are found in, why of course, Judaism. Mezuzot, were described by the Zohar as denying “harmful and destroying agents” into the home. Ashkenazi, Sephardic and Mizrachi tradition use herbalism, with cloves, rosemary and garlic to remove the evil eye and ward away evil spirits and demons from the home. The present-day practice of smelling the spices for Havdalah ceremonies, purposefully ignites our senses to carry forward renewed energy into an upcoming week. Segulot (protective amulets), from wearing red string, first mentioned in ‘Tosefta’, to symbols such as the Hamsa, the Nazar, and even the Magen David itself.  Whilst symbols like the Nazar can be seen in a diverse array of cultures, and the others can serve many purposes, like displaying an overt indication of Jewish identity, it is undoubted that magical symbolism and ritual is deeply embedded into the roots of Judaism.

 

The practice of ‘Candle Magick’ (the ‘k’ associated with Western occultism and popularised by Wicca), particularly absorbed my attention, with different colours signifying different intentions, and the intensity of a flame indicating the success of a spell. For Jews, howbeit, the infusion of candle and intent serves a much greater power. Visiting Auschwitz, we lit candles. Visiting Yad Vashem, we lit candles. On each day of the shiva, a candle is lit, followed by a Yahrzeit candle, on every single anniversary of a loved one’s death. Whether its accompanied by the Mourner’s Kaddish, or a solemn silence, candles in Judaism represent the fragility of life, and the light of life, through the darkest of days. For centuries, lighting candles have been integral parts of Jewish ritual, symbolic of the human soul and used in Kabbalat Shabbat, and to represent the miracle of light in Chanukah.

 

Acknowledgment and appreciation for the natural world is a value-system I respected inordinately when journeying through the key beliefs of spirituality. I passionately scrutinised the cycles of the moon, the depths of astrology, astronomy, the practices of grounding and incorporating the elements into meditation and manifestation. All of which, were enthusiasms I failed to connect to Judaism. Tu Bishvat, a festival to plant trees and celebrate life and growth, Rosh Chodesh, sanctifying the new moon and setting intentions for the month ahead, (now particularly easy to remember, upon discovering the Hebrew calendar is lunisolar, and dependent on the natural cycles of the sun and moon). Irrevocably, the list of Hebrew blessings and prayers for the wonders of nature is abundant, and therefore so are the multitude of ways to express gratitude.

 

To the many Jews, including myself, who partake in any practice, ceremony or celebration, or to those who seek to reconnect with their Judaic roots, I think it is difficult to disassociate such rituals from ancestral duty or monotonous tradition. It is difficult at first, to see what it truly is.

 

My exploration into the mystical and magical, deeply camouflaged, aspects of Judaism have evoked a myriad of emotions, appreciation, gratitude, but most simply, not to take such beautiful symbolism, and religion, for granted.

~ Reading List ~