SOME SUPERSTITIONS OF THE SYNAGOGUE.
TRAT, in the course of centuries, many strange superstitions should have taken root in the Synagogue, can hardly be matter of surprise to any one acquainted even superficially with the history of medizeval rabbinism. But it is a question, for all that, whether outsiders have any idea of the odd nature of the beliefs that lie at the bottom of many Jewish rites and ceremonies. It is not too much to affirm that one-half of the ritual of the Synagogue—not, be it understood, in the ignorant East, but in the communities of the cultured West—is based upon super- stitions so puerile, so silly, as to provoke only the amused wonderment of rational men. For instance, incredible though it may appear, it is nevertheless a fact that the most solemn function of the Jewish Church, the sounding of the " Shophar," or "ram's-horn trumpet," on the New Year Festival is pre- arranged with a view to tricking the Arch-accuser, Satan,—or, in plain English, cheating the devil. The New Year is, according to Jewish belief, the Day of Judgment. On this day, the record of Israel's shortcomings is read before the heavenly throne ; but when the sound of the sacred trumpet is heard, only the merits and sufferings of the tribes are remembered, and their transgressions are blotted out. Hence, as the festival approaches, it is an object with the Arch-accuser to prevent the notes of the " Shophar " from reaching the Throne of Grace, or so devout Jews allege ; and to circumvent him, recourse is had to what they consider an ingenious device. For a month previonaly—d tiring the whole of the month of Mini, that is—the trumpet is blown every morning in the synagogue after the early service. Satan, on the watch, flies upwards when the first notes reach him, in order to bar the way. And this he does on each succeeding day when he hears the sound. On the last day of the month, the day preceding the New Year, the blowing of the " Shophar " is discontinued. Satan thinks it all over, of course, and no longer listens for the objectionable tones, and the result is that the next day, which is the true "Feast of Trumpets," the Jews have it all their own way, and the sound without let or hindrance reaches the Seat of Mercy. For nearly two thousand years, the practice of intermitting the blowing of the" Shophar " on the eve of the New Year, " L'arbib ha-Satan "—to use the ex- planatory phrase of the Rabbins—" to puzzle Satan," has been in vogue, and the Arch-accuser ought certainly to be up to the trick by this time. However, this view of the matter does not appear to have struck the modern Jews, who continue the practice with a child-like reliance on the simplicity of Satan, and the efficacy of their device for circumventing him.
This is far from being an exceptional instance of the odd beliefs that have found favour in Jewry and acceptance in the ritual of the Synagogue. The ceremonial of the Jews is cram. fall of similar superstitious ; it is impossible to turn a page of the Jewish prayer-book, or enter a Jewish house of worehip, without being struck by some one or other of these survivals of old-world faiths and fancies. Take again, for example, the belief in the significance of dreams. This has so strong a hold of the Jew, that the ritual dare not ignore it. On the five great feasts of the year—Passover, Pentecost, Tabernacling, New Year, and the Day of Atonement—the Gentile who has the curiosity to visit a synagogue will infallibly be struck by one ceremony peculiar to these solemn days. All the worshippers of priestly descent, and known as " kohanim," station themselves in front of the Ark of the Law, cover their heads with their praying-scarves, raise their hands with the fingers spread two-and-two together—why or wherefore they do not know—and pronounce a benediction, while the congregants, with bated breath and heads averted, repeat a portion of the ritual of the day. The performance looks very imposing to the uninitiated. As a matter of fact, the worshippers are simply mumbling over an old cabalistic invocation against bad dreams, of which the most important part is the mental repetition —for the words are too sacred for actual enunciation—of some thanmaturgie names of the Creator, compounded, after the usual cabalistic fashion, of the initials of a number of words occurring in the blessing uttered by the priests. Those who think that this belief in the efficacy of cabalistic formului is confined to the illiterate and fanatical Jews of South-Eastern Europe and Palestine, are much in error. A visit to the City of London will undeceive them ; for in the side-streets of Whitechapel, charms to keep off the night-witch Lilith may be bought at the not extrava- gant price of a penny a-piece. The superstition about Lilith, to whom Adam was wedded before Eve was created, and who bore him all the demons that vexed the ancient world, is as strong to-day among the great body of believing Jews as it was four thousand years ago among their ancestors in the Plains of Shiner. So great is the demand for these documents, that there is one Jewish printing-office in Great Alio Street that turns them out by the thousands,—one of the most carious products certainly
of the modern printing-press. The efficacy of these documents lies in the repetition of the various aliases by which the witch Lilith is knows; for a tradition of the holy " Zoar," the text- book of the Kabala, tells us that when Elijah the Prophet met the uncanny creature on one of her nocturnal expeditions, he contrived to draw from her the information that in whatsoever place the several names applied to her in the demon world were posted up, she was powerless to enter.
One of the features of the Synagogue service is the repetition of a prayer known as the "Kaddish," or sanctification. The prayer in itself is a perfectly unobjectionable pro- duction, attributing sanctity and honour to the Creator. Rabbinical ingenuity has, however, made it the means of perpetuating among Jews one of the grossest superstitions of crude Judaism, the belief in an actual purgatory. It was one of the early tenets of the Synagogue that every soul had to pass a given time in purgatory. One of the Rabbis—A_kiba, if we reeollect aright—fixed the term at a period not exceeding twelve months. For the pious, the term was, of course, less in propor- tion to their piety. Now, it became at once an object to shorten the period of purgation, and it happened that one of the most austere of the Pharisees dreamt that the recitation of the Kaddish" by the 8011 of the deceased had the effect of helping his father one foot out of purgatory ; it was forthwith made an institution of Jndaism that for eleven months after the death of a parent, a son should publicly repeat the santification in syna- gogue as often as he could, the rapidity with which the departed got out of purgatory depending entirely upon the frequency with which the prayer was repeated. The reason eleven months was fixed upon as the limit of time for the mourner's Kaddish, was due to respect for the deceased. Twelve months being the longest period for which the very wickedest was condemned to suffer, it was deemed only considerate to regard the late. lamented as not quite as bad as he might have been by an amount of wickedness equivalent to a month's confinement in purgatory. And in no part of the world is the punctual saying of the Kaddish neglected. On a par with the practice, so far as the superstition that underlies it is concerned, is the custom of keeping a lighted lamp burning in the room where a death has occurred, for seven days after the burial, in order that the soul still hovering about may not feel lonesome; and the yet stranger practice of placing a loaf of bread on the body of a dead person, when for any reason it is necessary to move it on the Sabbath. It is unlawful to move a corpse on the Sabbath, but Rabbinical casuistry finds nothing to urge against moving a vessel that contains a loaf of bread on that day.
Folk-lorists would find a good deal to repay them in a study of the Jewish ritual and the various rites and ceremonies of the Jewish Church. In nearly every case, these rest upon a sub- stratum of superstitution of no little interest to the collector of early myths and beliefs. And, in the case of the Jews too, some of the superstition embodied in the ritual has come to shadow the house of worship itself. The synagogue is firmly believed to be a meeting-house for the dead as well as for the living. Hence a Jew never enters an empty syna- gogue without knocking three times at the door, to warn the ghostly congregants within of the approach of a living person ; nor would any worshipper look back over his shoulder as he leaves the house of prayer. A law peculiar to the Great Synagogue of Posen, in East Prussia, is said to have been published owing to the presence of a number of dead visitors there on the high festival of the year. No Jew there is allowed to cover his head with the praying-scarf, as is the custom in other places. The legend that accounts for this—whatever may be its worth—is as follows. On a certain New Year, in the days of Rabbi Eger, the congregants were engaged in their devotions with, as usual, their heads covered, when they found themselves cramped for want of room. The crush became terrible, and men could scarcely breathe, when the aged Rabbi, moved by the sense of uneasiness apparent in the congregation, turned and saw there, among the living worshippers, the forms and figures of many long passed away. Instantly he called out that all who were alive should remove the praying-scarves from their heads. They did so, and only the dead remained covered. Then the Rabbi adjured the souls present, in the name of the Living God, to leave the place in peace, and the people to their devotions. Whereupon the dead slowly vanished ; and since that time no living worshipper ever covers his head in the Posen Synagogue. Whatever be the truth concerning this story, the fact remains that a Jew would no more enter a synagogue without the pre- liminary knocks to warn the dead of his presence, than he would leave a burial-ground without plucking a little grass and casting it over his shoulder, taking care at the same time not to look back, lest be might see the soul of the co.religionist last interred there in the shape of a fire-spark hovering over the new-made grave.
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