Forsaken HBI Series on Jewish Women

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Shulamit Reinharz, General Editor Sylvia Barack Fishman, Associate Editor

Th e HBI Series on Jewish Women, created by the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute, publishes a wide range of books by and about Jewish women in diverse contexts and time periods. Of interest to scholars and the educated public, the HBI Series on Jewish Women fi lls major gaps in Jewish tudiesS and in Women and Gender Studies as well as their intersection.

Th e HBI Series on Jewish Women is supported by a generous gift from Dr. Laura S. Schor.

For the complete list of books that are available in this series, please see www.upne.com Sharon Faye Koren, Forsaken: Th e Menstruant in Medieval Jewish Mysticism Sonja M. Hedgepeth and Rochelle G. Saidel, editors, Sexual Violence against Jewish Women during the Holocaust Julia R. Lieberman, editor, Sephardi Family Life in the Early Modern Diaspora Derek Rubin, editor, Promised Lands: New Jewish American Fiction on Longing and Belonging Carol K. Ingall, editor, Th e Women Who Reconstructed American Jewish Education: 1910–1965 Gaby Brimmer and Elena Poniatowska, Gaby Brimmer: An Autobiography in Th ree Voices Harriet Hartman and Moshe Hartman, Gender and American Jews: Patt erns in Work, Education, and Family in Contemporary Life Dvora E. Weisberg, Levirate Marriage and the Family in Ancient Judaism Ellen M. Umansky and Dianne Ashton, editors, Four Centuries of Jewish Women’s Spirituality: A Sourcebook Carole S. Kessner, Marie Syrkin: Values Beyond the Self Ruth Kark, Margalit Shilo, and Galit Hasan-Rokem, editors, Jewish Women in Pre-State Israel: Life History, Politics, and Culture Tova Hartman, Feminism Encounters Traditional Judaism: Resistance and Accommodation Anne Lapidus Lerner, Eternally Eve: Images of Eve in the Hebrew Bible, Midrash, and Modern Jewish Poetry Margalit Shilo, Princess or Prisoner? Jewish Women in Jerusalem, 1840–1914 Marcia Falk, translator, Th e Song of Songs: Love Lyrics fr om the Bible The Tauber Institute Series for the Study of European Jewry

Jehuda Reinharz, General Editor Sylvia Fuks Fried, Associate Editor

Th e Tauber Institute Series is dedicated to publishing compelling and innovative approaches to the study of modern European Jewish history, thought, culture, and society. Th e series features scholarly works related to the Enlightenment, modern Judaism and the struggle for emancipation, the rise of nationalism and the spread of antisemitism, the Holocaust and its aft ermath, as well as the contemporary Jewish experience. Th e series is published under the auspices of the Tauber Institute for the Study of European Jewry — established by a gift to Brandeis University from Dr. Laszlo N. Tauber — and is supported, in part, by the Tauber Foundation and the Valya and Robert Shapiro Endowment.

For the complete list of books that are available in this series, please see www.upne.com Sharon Faye Koren Forsaken: Th e Menstruant in Medieval Jewish Mysticism Nils Roemer German City, Jewish Memory: Th e Story of Worms David Assaf Untold Tales of the Hasidim: Crisis and Discontent in the History of Hasidism Jehuda Reinharz and Yaacov Shavit Glorious, Accursed Europe: An Essay on Jewish Ambivalence Eugene M. Avrutin, Valerii Dymshits, Alexander Ivanov, Alexander Lvov, Harriet Murav, and Alla Sokolova, editors Photographing the Jewish Nation: Pictures fr om S. An-sky’s Ethnographic Expeditions Michael Dorland Cadaverland: Inventing a Pathology of Catastrophe for Holocaust Survival Walter Laqueur Best of Times, Worst of Times: Memoirs of a Political Education * Rose-Carol Washton Long, Matt hew Baigell, and Milly Heyd, editors Jewish Dimensions in Modern Visual Culture: Antisemitism, Assimilation, Affi rmation Berel Lang Philosophical Witnessing: Th e Holocaust as Presence David N. Myers Between Jew and Arab: Th e Lost Voice of Simon Rawidowicz

* A Sarnat Library Book

Sharon Faye Koren Forsaken Th e Menstruant in Medieval Jewish Mysticism

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Koren, Sharon Faye. Forsaken : the menstruant in medieval Jewish mysticism / Sharon Faye Koren. p. cm.—(HBI series on Jewish women) Includes bibliographical references and index. isbn 978-1-58465-981-5 (cloth : alk. paper)—isbn 978-1-58465-982-2 (pbk. : alk. paper)—isbn 978-1-61168-022-5 (e-book) 1. Purity, Ritual—Judaism. 2. Menstruation—Religious aspects— Judaism. 3. Mysticism—Judaism—History. 4. Judaism—History— Medieval and early modern period, 425–1789. I. Title. BM702.K663 2011 296.7′5—dc23 2011017167

Th e publication of this book was generously supported by the Lucius N. Litt auer Foundation. For Atara Malka, Talia Ora, & Tamar Ariel:

May you fi nd no barriers as you journey along the path.

contents

Foreword · xi Acknowledgments · xv Introduction · 1

Part I: Early Jewish Mysticism 1 From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple: Impurity in Early Jewish Mysticism · 15 2 Th e Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 28 3 Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 43 Part II: Medieval Kabbalah 4 Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis in Th eosophical Kabbalah · 63 5 Th e Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 75 6 Th e Ontic Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 84 7 Th e Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 98 Part iii: Mysticism & Menstruation in Islam & Christianity 8 Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 127 9 Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 144

Conclusion · 172 Notes · 177 Bibliography · 237 Index · 277

Foreword

In this compelling new examination of Judaic mystical approaches to women’s bodies and their functions, Sharon Faye Koren combines a mastery of rabbinic source materials with the tools of contemporary theoretical analysis, including gender theory. Her fresh approach reveals complex and oft en contradictory dimensions of Jewish intellectual life. For example, puzzling over the fact that Judaism—unlike Christianity and Islam—preserves few records of female medieval mystics, Koren off ers Foucault’s famous dictum that “culture determines what counts as truth or knowledge within that society.” What- ever mystical experiences Jewish women may have had didn’t “count” in the societies they lived in. Women lacked textual expertise, and also by defi nition they did not inhabit the same world of study and behavioral obligation as Jewish men. Women’s contributions were thus eff ectively ignored by Jewish intellectual history, including intellectual mystical traditions. But while the rabbinic mystical tradition largely ignored fl esh-and-blood women and their spiritual lives, the symbolic “female” became an object of fetishistic obsession. Menstruation and niddah (a halakhic legal category that defi nes a twelve- day period during which women are sexually off limits to their husbands), in particular, were invested with a set of extraordinary symbolic meanings that enabled mystic scholars “to continue to have access to the divine in a post- Temple world,” Koren explains. She traces the notion of expelling in the linguistic roots for the term niddah, and reviews anthropological analyses of the “almost universal fear of menstrual blood.” During the actual Temple observances, both men and women were subject to impurity and isolation, and were given the opportunity to purge their impurity through Temple rituals. Post-Temple Judaism retained miqveh immersion for women aft er menstruation and a week of “clean” days (in some communities, this was true for male ejaculation as well). Koren builds on Fonrobert’s insight about the diff erence in language describing male and female “emissions”: the male is described as expelling his issue fr om his body, while the woman is described as having a discharge in her body. Th is perceived distinction—an interpretation that exaggerates physiological diff erences—had profound halakhic and symbolic valence. “Exterior” male impurity is understood as being ephemeral and having limited duration, while “interior” female impurity bars women permanently from mystical practice. Because a woman’s pollution is interior, even a

xi postmenopausal woman remains tainted, and thus, in medieval Jewish thinking, unable to att ain spiritual heights. Koren traces the fascinating departure from talmudic literature, in which “menstruants are prohibited only from performing domestic tasks that would promote intimacy between husband and wife,” to the very diff erent approach within the Hekhalot literature and within Beraita d’Niddah. Both exacer- bated separations between men and women, and assigned spiritual meanings (oft en negative) to female reproductive physiology. As Koren explains, mystics concerned with access to divine mysteries asserted: “When an adept wishes to learn the name of God, he must avoid looking at menstruants.” Convinced that the pure and impure realms must not mix, the Hekhalot authors invested women’s menstruation with both moral and ritual impurity that arguably had magical properties. Th e Hekhalot literature in general is entirely androcentric. Koren comments: “It is as if we are entering a world where wives do not exist.” Th e Beraita d’Niddah, a collection of materials dealing with women and menstruation, departed from mainstream talmudic law by isolating menstruating Jewish women from even the mitzvot (religious obligations) that are incumbent specifi cally upon women. Rabbinic law requires women to fulfi ll many legal obligations in addition to the three “women’s” mitzvot, stipulating that women must recite grace aft er meals and engage in personal prayer no matt er the time of the month. However, unlike talmudic law, which requires women to continue all mitzvoth, such as praying, lighting candles, and “taking” challah, during and aft er menstruation, the Beraita d’Niddah forbids these activities and promises dire consequences should they occur. A menstruating woman “must not touch anything holy,” these texts warn. Why? “Because she would be guilty and would make her household guilty.” In these texts, unlike the approach of mainstream rabbinic Juda- ism, the very presence of the menstruating woman can pollute all around her. Koren builds on the work of a broad array of important scholars to analyze these spiritualistic texts, noting that they reject the sublimation of Temple cult symbols that was typical of much rabbinic legal thinking. Instead, emphasizing cultic Temple practices and expanding their spiritual signifi cance, the Beraita d’Niddah insists “that the menstruant is anathema to both God and man,” she writes, “and this is the understanding that is bequeathed to medieval Europe.” Koren accordingly proceeds to examine the development and elaboration of these ideas, by the German Pietists (twelft h and thirteenth centuries) and later the medieval Spanish kabbalists, into a complex intellec- xii · Foreword tual system that assigned semiotic signifi cance to women’s bodies. The Be- raita d’Niddah became the foundational document that “legitimized Jewish women’s exclusion from mystical practice,” infl uencing Ashkenazic communities to the north. In particular, once Hasidic Ashkenaz had formulated a vision of Godhead with a feminine as well as a masculine aspect, “female biology” had symbolic salience. For some mystical thinkers, the female taint extended even to the Shekhinah, the female emanation of the divine spirit. In later chapters, Koren details the ways in which these mystical structures (and strictures) aff ected the lives of ordinary women. Th e connection between the spiritual world and quotidian human behavior became even more direct in the cosmos described by the Zohar, which many contemporary scholars place in the Castile of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. As Koren lucidly explains, thirteenth-century “theosophical kabbalists” believed that “they could learn about the inner processes of the divine realm through the esoteric interpretation of God’s own words” and that the reciprocal relationship between human beings and God would be powerfully aff ected—in both positive and negative ways—by the behavior and motivations of human beings. “Proper performance of all the commandments would foster unity in the divine realm, and conversely sinning could unleash the forces of evil in the sefi rotic realm.” Finally, Koren contextualizes these developments in gendered Jewish intellectual history through a fi nely wrought consideration of diverse trends in Muslim and Christian theological writings. Sharon Faye Koren makes a powerful case that opportunities for women’s spiritual development generally and mystical expression specifi cally opened up when concern with menstruation laws declined. Apologists who claim that esoteric intellectual structures have litt le impact on quotidian social mores should look more closely and deeply at both. Th is fascinating book, in addition to being a groundbreaking addition to the Hadassah Brandeis Institute Series on Jewish Women, enables just such critical scrutiny.

Sylvia Barack Fishman

Foreword · xiii

acknowledgments

I am thrilled to fi nally have the opportunity to publicly thank everyone who has helped me bring this work to its fruition. I fi rst began studying mysticism as a graduate student in the medieval studies program at Yale University and I owe an enormous debt to my teachers. John Boswell (z”l) fi rst ignited my passion for the study of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in medieval Spain and encouraged me to understand Jewish mysticism within its greater cultural context. Jaroslav Pelikan (z”l) was a devoted teacher who was as delighted to learn about modern Jewish rituals as I was to learn about Gregory of Nazianzus. Th is study began as a doctoral dissertation under the guidance of David Ruderman, Ivan Marcus, and Moshe Idel. Professor David Ruderman, for- merly of Yale, presently Joseph P. Meyerhoff Professor of Modern Jewish His- tory and Director of the Center for Advanced Judaic Studies at the University of Pennsylvania, has been a constant source of encouragement and support. He is a thoroughly committ ed mentor concerned with both the academic and personal well-being of his students. Ivan Marcus taught me to convey an esoteric theology in exoteric terms. I am thankful for his close readings, insight, and patience. When visiting Yale, Moshe Idel introduced me to the academic study of Kabbalah and to the treasures hidden in Hebrew manuscripts. He continued to supervise my work throughout graduate school be it in a university offi ce, airport lounge, or the number 28 bus from Givat Ram to Har ha- Tsofi m. I am grateful for his guidance and boundless generosity. Elliot Wolf- son served as an unoffi cial adviser, closely reading the entire manuscript and making many helpful suggestions. I appreciate his mentorship and support. Shaye Cohen generously shared his vast knowledge of rabbinic purity laws. I benefi edtt from conversations with Reuven Bonfi l, Iris Felix, Boaz Huss, Judah Galinsky, Alyssa Gray, Avraham Grossman, Tzvi Langermann, Rebecca Lesses, Yehudah Liebes, Evyatar Marienberg, Ann E. Matt er, Michael Pit- kowsky, Barbara von Schlegell, Avigdor Shinan, and Israel Ta Shma (z”l). I am especially grateful to Daniel Abrams, Carole Balin, Elisheva Baumgarten, Judith Baskin, Rachel Elior, Charlott e Fonrobert, Marion Katz, Elka Klein (z”l), Fern Siegel, Haym Soloveitchik and Devorah Zlochower for reading portions of my work and off ering insightful comments and criticisms. I am deeply indebted to Elisheva Urbas for her editorial expertise.

xv Th is endeavor would not have been possible without the assistance of the librarians and staff of the Gershom Scholem library, the Institute for Micro- fi lmed Hebrew Manuscripts, the Hebrew College Library, Klau Library of Hebrew Union College and the Jewish Th eological Seminary Library. Special thanks to Tina Weiss of the Klau Library for issuing infi nite inter-library loan requests on my behalf and to Dr. Sharon Lieberman Mintz, curator of Jewish art at the Jewish Th eological Seminary, for helping me fi nd the cover art. I appreciate the fi nancial assistance of Yale University, the Memorial Founda- tion for Jewish Culture, the National Foundation for Jewish Culture, Th e Interuniversity Fellowship, and the Fulbright Foundation. I am grateful to the administration, faculty, and staff of the Hebrew Union College Jewish In- stitute of Religion in New York for providing me with an intellectual and spiritual haven committ ed to academic excellence and tiqqun ‘olam. My wonderful family and friends nurtured me through this long project. Lisa Cohen, Barbara Gochberg, Rebecca Kobrin, Rachel Rosenfi eld and Wendy Zierler sustain me with their boundless energy, laughter, and friend- ship. Flora Kimmich is a wellspring of kindness and sage advice. My debt to her is beyond my linguistic ability. My nanny, Inez Gwendolyn Doughty(z”l) was an Evangelical preacher who inspired me with her faith and song. Her love motivated me to study the interrelationship between Judaism, Christian- ity, and Islam. She was the fi rst female mystic I ever met. My brothers David Koren and Edwin Koren force me to see the unin- tended humor in my craft . Unsere Eltern (our parents), Ruth and Benjamin Koren immigrated to the United States aft er World War II and worked tire- lessly to ensure that we would att ain all that was denied them — especially formal education. My father always says that an education is something that no one can ever take away from you. Th ey instilled in me a love of learning, language, and literature. I could not have writt en this book without their love, support, and encouragement. Finally, my long-patient husband Matt hew Aaron is, like his namesake Aharon, the embodiment of loving kindness. He fi lls my life with joy, laughter, and wild tales of marine life. I dedicate this book to our three wonderful daughters, Atara Malka, Talia Ora, and Tamar Ariel, with love.

An earlier version of chapter 5 appeared in “Kabbalistic Rationales for the Laws of the Menstruating Woman, in Women and Water: Menstruation in Jew- xvi · Acknowledgments ish Life and Law, edited by Rahel Wasserfall (Hanover, NH: Brandeis Univer- sity Press, 1999) 101–121. Portions of Chapter 7 appeared in AJS Review 28:2 (2004):317–339 under the title “Kabbalistic Physiology: Isaac the Blind, Nahmanides, and Moses de Leon on Menstruation.” A section of Chapter 9 may be found in Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Wom- en’s Studies & Gender Issues 17(2009) in my article “Th e Menstruant as ‘Other’ in Medieval Judaism and Christianity.” I elaborate on the Zoharic passage in the fi rst two pages of the conclusion in “Immaculate Sarah: Echoes of the Eve/Mary Dichotomy in the Zohar,” Viator 41, no. 2 (Autumn 2010): 183–201.

Acknowledgments · xvii

Forsaken

Introduction

Forsaken: “Niddah — de-Naddad lah El” zohar 3:226a (rm)

In the world of the Zohar, menstruation is antithetical to God. Th e biblical term for menstruant, niddah, has two possible roots, n-d-h and n-d-d, both of which imply expelling.1 Perhaps menstruants were temporarily cast out of their communities; alternatively, the term may suggest, even more neutrally, the fl ow of blood from a menstruant’s body.2 Many medieval Jewish mystics, however, saw menstruation diff erently. According to a section of the Zohar, the most popular work of medieval Kabbalah, the menstruant’s title of niddah tells us that “God fl ees from her.”God abandons menstruants because God cannot suff er impurity. Th e niddah repels the forces of the holy, and her spiritual vacuum is immediately fi lled by the forces of evil and impurity. Th e niddah appears with stunning frequency in the Zohar.3 To be sure, menstrual laws appear prominently in medieval law codes and responsa literature as well. But the Zohar is not a legal work, and the focus on menstruation that emerged from the Zohar was diff erent in kind from constraints in other religious circles, in part because it was not merely a set of laws or customs.4 Like all other Jewish traditions grounded in biblical text, Jewish mystics reinterpreted the laws of the Temple cult in ways that enabled them to continue to have access to the divine in a post-Temple world.5 Th e cultic restrictions on impurity were expressed anew in Kabbalah as a protection of the purity of the celestial Temple, one no longer confi ned by spatial bound aries. Breaching those restrictions allowed impurity to invade the holy realm. For many medieval kabbalists, therefore, the menstruant’s spiritual vacuum leads her to a demonic state, and a menstruating woman is oft en portrayed as the embodiment of the sitra ah.ra, the demonic other side. As such, she is not only dangerous but also forever to be excluded from the divine.

1 Indeed, of the three major religions in medieval Europe — Judaism, Chris- tianity, and Islam — only Judaism cannot boast a single female mystic. Me- dieval Jewish women’s exclusion from mystical pursuits cannot be ascribed simply to patriarchy or to fear of women’s sexuality: Christian and Muslim women faced the same obstacles yet were able to express themselves within the mystical tradition. Th is glaring absence has been noted by several scholars of medieval Jewish history and mysticism who off er varying explanations. Gershom Scholem att ributes women’s absence to the association between women and the demonic in Jewish myth.6 Judith Baskin argues that Kabbalah is a highly intellectual enterprise, and medieval Jewish women never would have been able to att ain the requisite knowledge to participate in mystical endeavors.7 Medieval kabbalists, however, off ered their own rationale. In the medieval mystical texts beginning with Hekhalot literature (that is, early Jewish mystical literature) through pre-expulsion Kabbalah, women were not passively absent, but rather actively barred from mystical pursuits. Late-antique and medieval Jewish mystics were unique in their understanding of physical impurity as an insurmountable obstacle to divine communion. Even had a woman the education necessary to comprehend a Zoharic text, she would have been denied access to the divine realm because of her innate impurity. Th is presumed antagonism between the menstruant and the divine appeared in mystical praxis and contributed to the rise of a kabbalistic myth in which, just as the human menstruant was separated from man, the divine menstruant had to be separated from the holy aspects of God. Any contact between the pure male sefi rot and the impure Shekhinah could infect the Godhead with the forces of the demonic realm. Menstruation became a nefarious force capable of polluting the divine realm. Th is symbolic understanding of the menstruant barred Jewish women from “normative” medieval Jew- ish mysticism — signifi cantly impacting their spiritual status.

“normative” jewish mysticism

Modern studies of the psychology of mysticism have shown that women are more prone to mystical, or paranormal, religious experiences than are men.8 It is therefore likely that mystical experience was not unknown to medieval Jewish women. Yet it is also likely that this form of spirituality was not acceptable among acknowledged Jewish mystics: it did not “count” as mysticism

2 · Introduction among the male intellectual elite. Michel Foucault has argued that no knowledge exists outside the confi nes of a cultural context; to maintain power, the authority of a given culture determines what counts as truth or knowledge within that society. In Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, Jantzen adapts Foucault’s theory to Christian mysticism, arguing that Christian mysticism is also socially constructed and that authority determines what shall count as mysticism and who the mystics shall be.9 Jewish mysticism, too, is socially constructed; those in power determine “what counts as mysticism.” More- over, they determine the criteria for mystical experience. In Christianity, the path to true spirituality was virginity;10 in Islam, purity of heart. In Judaism, it was ritual purity. Jewish practice, however, has never been monolithic. Th ere is some evidence that Jewish women have long engaged in “alternate” forms of spirituality. Th ey participated, for example, in magical practices in the late-antique period,11 and in early-modern Safed, H. ayim Vital mentioned that spirits would possess certain women and speak through their agency. Women were active participants in the Sabbatian movement, and many functioned as prophets.12 Mizrah. i women, like their Muslim female neighbors, venerated female saints. And in H. asidism, some women — most famously the Maid of Ludmir — functioned as spiritual leaders.13 Th ese isolated examples of women’s spirituality in the late-antique and early-modern periods, however, only serve to highlight the glaring absence of female mystics in the medieval. Aft er 1492, the spiritual and cultural needs of post-expulsion Jewry provided new avenues for women’s cultural expression. Safedian kabbalists in the sixteenth century democratized elements of Kab- balah in an eff ort to hasten redemption. Pious acts by all Jews — including women — were then believed to be instrumental in eff ecting changes in the cosmos, and consequently, women may have achieved new prestige.

alternate forms of female spiritual expression

Jewish mysticism, however, was not immediately transformed into an egali- tarian spiritual system. Rather, the accounts of these pre-modern women reinforce the notion of mysticism as a social construct because the opportunities for women in Safed, Sabbatianism, and early H. asidism perpetuated rather than abolished the patriarchal status quo. Th e women that H. ayim Vital

Introduction · 3 mentions in his diary were not kabbalists in their own right, but rather vessels for dispossessed (oft en male) spirits.14 Th ey appear in the diary to butt ress Vital’s prestige and to save suff ering male souls. Tkhines literature, the vernacular expression of women’s spirituality in the early-modern period, similarly did not “count” as mysticism. As Chava Weissler has shown, these forms of devotion were meant explicitly for “women and [for] men who are like women in not being able to learn much.”15 Ada Rapoport-Albert has argued that the Maid of Ludmir tradition also perpetuates rather than changes the status of women in the Jewish mystical tradition. Like many medieval Christian female mystics, the Maid of Ludmir denied her sexuality and led an ascetic, celibate life in order to pursue her spiritual and scholarly path. Although her following grew, contemporary religious leaders believed that she had either been possessed by an impure spirit or by the soul of a Tsaddiq (righteous man) who had transmigrated into her body as penance for some sin.16 Once she was persuaded to marry and assumed her “rightful” position as wife in the Jewish world, she lost her following and died in obscurity. Th us, according to Rapoport-Albert, far from promoting the equality of women, “Hasidism embraced unquestioningly all the conceptions of women produced by rabbinic Judaism, as well as the kabbalistic association of women with the demonic and the concomitant representation by women of negative, material sexuality.”17 Th ese negative associations between women, matt er, and lust are justifi ed in kabbalistic theology through various understandings of gender and impurity. why impurity?

Th e human body has long been considered a barrier to the divine. Th is belief was expressed in Greek thought as a dichotomy between body and spirit. Th ose who sought spiritual success endeavored to free their soul from the confi nes of the material body.18 Such total rejection of God’s creation, however, was uncommon in Jewish thought,19 which was more inclined to ask how to honor the creator God and his creations. Over time, fl eeting physical pollution came to block access to the divine. Impurity was the matt er; purity, the form. Ritual purity became the Jewish way of “assimilating to God” on earth.20 In Leviticus, God exhorts Israel to be holy because He is holy.21 Th e term employed, qedushah (holiness), has a twofold meaning. Th e word initially

4 · Introduction connoted “separation” or “withdrawal.”22 Th is separateness does not imply remoteness, but rather separation from anything impure and polluting. Num- bers and Deuteronomy assume that God (or his indwelling, the Shekhinah) rested on the camp of the Israelites. Physical purity was necessary to ensure that God inhered in the community. Deuteronomy 23:15 mandates purity: “[S]ince the Lord your God moves about in your camp to protect you and to deliver your enemies to you, let your camp be holy.” Numbers 5:1–4 bars from the camp those with corpse impurity, scale disease, and genital discharges.23 Removal from impurity was the means by which the Children of Israel became like God and ensured their close connection with the divine. Th e priestly authors of Leviticus held that these meetings were only possible at the tabernacle and its successor, the Jerusalem Temple — a unique juncture on earth where the divine and human realm might meet. Mircea Eli- ade taught that “for religious man, space is not homogeneous: he experiences interruptions, breaks in it; some parts of space are qualitatively diff erent from others.”24 Many believed that the Temple mount was a point at which the barriers between the terrestrial and the divine could be breached. Physical purity was therefore essential for admission to the Jerusalem Temple. Many religions in the late-antique period saw a loosening of the geographi- cal requirements for divine communion in favor of more “mobile” religion. As Jonathan Smith explains in his essay “Th e Temple and the Magician,” [t]he ancient books of wisdom, the authority — indeed the divinity — of the priest-king, the faith of the clergy in the effi cacy of their rituals, the temple as the chief locus of revelation — all of these have been relativized in favor of the direct contact with a mobile magician with his equally mobile divinity.25 For Judeans, this trend toward mobility began somewhat prematurely. Aft er the destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE, the prophet Ezekiel (1:1) imagined a mobile Temple chariot traveling through the heavens to the rivers of Babylon. Aft er the return from the Babylonian Exile and the subsequent reconstruction, emergent Jewry responded to the new stationary Temple in many diff erent ways. Some resumed the status quo, while others developed alternative rituals in response to their disaff ection with the refurbished cult. Th e experience of living without a Temple allowed for the possibility of extra-Temple ritual, but its symbols remained entrenched. Burgeoning Jewish imaginations contextualized new traditions through the lens of cultic rituals.

Introduction · 5 Th e Qumran sect believed that the Second Temple was polluted and antici- pated the arrival of a messianic age in which the purity requirements of the Temple cult would extend in varying degrees throughout the land.26 Pharisees adapted the purity requirements of the Temple to their daily lives. Indeed, aft er the destruction of the Second Temple, the redactors of the Mishnah devoted approximately two-thirds of the work to the laws of the Temple cult, reformulating ritual into study. Th e symbolic relevance of the Temple began to transform to meet the spiritual needs of an evolving Jewry. It became a locus in time, space, or mind, where one could achieve proximity to God, a symbol that inspired all subsequent forms of Jewish mystical contemplation. Th e earliest Jewish mysticism is named for the vestibule in front of the Holy of Holies, Hekhal. German Pietists (c. 1100–1250) reimagined Ezekiel’s four- wheeled chariot as the divine name, and medieval Kabbalists understood the sefi rot (divine potencies) as themerkavah . Jewish mystics, who desired to overcome the boundaries of their own physical nature in order to ascend to heaven,27 to achieve mystical union, to att ain a mystical vision, or to aff ect the Godhead would fi rst need to address the purity requirements of the Temple. why menstrual impurity?

Many cultures try to avoid various forms of pollution. Menstrual blood is among the most common taboos, and the word taboo may originate in the word tupua, Polynesian for menstruation.28 As noted, the roots for the term niddah (n-d-d, “depart,” “fl ee,” “wander,” and n-d-h, “chase away,” “put aside,” “drive out”) have the notion of expelling in common.29 Anthropologists have devoted much eff ort to uncovering the underlying reason for the almost universal fear of menstrual blood. Indeed, there is a vast literature on the meaning of menstrual impurity in the Bible. Scholarly opinion ranges from the neutral — Mary Douglas’s now classic (and disputed) theory of impurity laws as a means of establishing order — to the positive — David Biale’s most recent argument that the priests revered the fertility potential symbolized by menstrual blood.30 Many late-antique and medieval mystics, however, rationalized levitical purity laws and their need to separate menstruants from the sacred by calling on the dichotomy between life and death. Th e notion of death governs fear of the menstruant in many cultures. Be- cause menstrual blood signifi es the death of a potential life, it is understood to be a source of danger to the living.31 Since “the life of the fl esh is in the

6 · Introduction blood” (Lev. 17:11), the loss of menstrual blood may be perceived as the death of a potential life.32 Within the context of the Israelite Temple cult this nexus between menstruation and death underlies the perceived need to separate menstruants from God. God is the God of life, and blood is the material means by which He vivifi es. eTh association between menstrual blood and death implies that menstruants symbolize the opposite of the holy and must, therefore, remain separate from the sancta.33 Note that menstruants were not singled out for prejudice in the levitical system. Jacob Milgrom explains that in the Bible all three kinds of human impurity — corpse/carcass, scale disease, and genital discharges — share the notion of death. Scale disease gives the appearance of death; the loss of semen in men and of menstrual blood in women represents death.34

menstruation in priestly and rabbinic law

In the purity laws of the ancient Israelite Temple cult, impurity was not specifi c to women, but a potential state of all Israelites. eTh menstruating woman was but one of four types of impure person with genital discharge who were barred from religious practice and could ritually pollute others.35 Only vestiges of the elaborate cultic purity system, however, survived the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE. Th e menstruant was one such vestige, and rituals by which she could change her status and gain readmitt ance to the community of the holy were set forth in the Talmud, and justifi cation for the continued observance of menstrual laws founded on cultic practice was provided in the Holiness Code. Th e niddah was banned not only from the Tem- ple but from her husband as well. Sexual relations between a man and his menstruating wife are explicitly forbidden in Leviticus 18:19 and 20:18. Th erefore, while the criterion of purity may be interpreted as a mark of an older system, this prohibition, which appears in a catalogue of forbidden sexual relations, extended beyond the cultic realm. Leviticus deems the woman with a normal discharge (the niddah) impure for seven days. Th e woman who has had an abnormal issue (the zavah) must wait an additional seven “clean” days aft er the cessation of her fl ow before she may be considered pure and present a sacrifi ce.36 Th e Tannaim (the rabbis of the mishnaic period) made these defi nitions correspond to an eighteen-day cycle, allott ing seven “days of niddah” for the menstrual fl ow and eleven “days of zivah,” when no fl ow was expected.37 Th us the “days of niddah” begin with

Introduction · 7 the fi rst fl ow of blood and end seven dayslater, irrespective of the actual length of the blood fl ow. Aft er the end of this seven-day period, a woman would then immerse herself in a ritual bath.38 Th e “days of zivah” are counted for the following eleven days; all blood that fl ows during this time is considered abnormal. Aft er the cessation of such a fl ow, a woman would immerse herself in a ritual bath. Th e Jerusalem Talmud records Rav Huna stating that “one who sees a drop [of blood] as small as mustard-seed waits and observes seven clean days on account of it.”39 Later, the Babylonian Talmud reported Rabbi Zeira’s ruling that the pious daughters of Israel self-imposed the command to wait seven clean days should they see a drop of blood the size of a mustard seed. Th is stricture came to eliminate the distinction between the zavah and the niddah, requiring all women to wait seven clean days aft er the end of any blood fl ow before ritual immersion. usTh Rabbi Zeira eliminated the levitical category of the niddah and deemed all menstruants technically zavot.40 Th is understanding obligated Jewish husbands and wives to separate for at least twelve days, the fi ve-to-seven days of actual fl ow and an additional seven “clean” days, allott ing roughly fi eenft days of the monthly cycle for marital relations.41 Th e rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud upheld menstrual laws in order to observe the biblical proscription against illicit sexual relations. Th us during this twelve-to- fourteen-day period of separation, menstruants were restricted only in those aspects of their lives that immediately aff ected the male. Ac- cording to BT Ketuvot, the menstruant was permitt ed to fulfi ll all her domestic responsibilities except fi lling her husband’s cup, making his bed, and washing his feet, three duties that might lead to intimacy between husband and wife.42 To ensure proper practice, rabbis undertook to discover the underlying reasons for the imposed separation, for in the absence of direct means of enforcing the laws of the niddah, which by their very nature were observed (or not) in the privacy of the bedroom, they had to fall back on the cogency of their interpretive powers.43 Rabbi Meir explained that a niddah was declared impure so that she might remain as beloved to her husband as on the day they married. Th e medieval commentator Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh. aqi (Rashi) adds that if a man has relations with his wife at will, she will begin to disgust him.44 For many rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud, the enforced seven-day separation protected against satiety and contempt.45 Palestinian Jews, by contrast, were more stringent in their observance of menstrual separation than Babylonian.46 In fact, Rabbi Zeira’s broader defi nition of menstrual impurity,

8 · Introduction mentioned above, originates in a Palestinian source. Palestinian Jews restricted menstruants not only to deter illicit sexual relations but also to pay tribute to cultic practice.47

the difference between male and female impurity

Leviticus lists four types of genital discharge that rendered one impure and consequently barred one from the Temple cult: abnormal male discharge (zav), normal male discharge (baal qeri), abnormal female discharge (zavah), and normal female discharge (menstrual blood, niddah).48 Th e list is both symmetrical and balanced between male and female impurities: two discharges are specifi c to men and two to women; abnormal male discharge corresponds to abnormal female discharge; normal male discharge corresponds to normal female discharge. Milgrom notes that each impurity is described in the same fashion: the “impurity is defi ned, the consequences described and its purifi cation prescribed.”49 Both the language and the structure of the passage in Leviticus suggest equality between male and female issue. Th at both menstrual impurity and seminal pollution remain ritually relevant aft er the destruction of the Temple also suggests parity between male and female genital fl uxes. Th ere is evidence, however, that the Tannaim excluded ejaculants from the sacred rather than menstruants.50 According to the Mishnah and Toseft a, ejaculants and women who had sexual intercourse could not engage in sacred acts until they had purifi ed themselves through ritual immersion. Men and women with a genital discharge, menstruants, and parturients, by contrast, were allowed to read the Torah, study holy texts, and recite benedictions even though they were “ritually” impure.51 In the mishnaic period, seminal pollution alone raised a barrier to liturgical practice and Torah study.52 Later, Baby- lonian and Palestinian Jews diff ered in their observance of the laws of baal qeri. Babylonian Jews did not immerse themselves aft er ejaculation, reasoning that they were already subject to corpse impurity and that they lived in an “impure land.” Th ey submitt ed further that their impurity should not impinge upon prayer or Torah study because, according to Rabbi Judah ben Betayra, “the words of Torah are not subject to impurity.”53 Palestinian Jews, by contrast, required ritual immersion aft er ejaculation of all those who wished to participate in the sacred.54

Introduction · 9 Later halakhists subscribed to the Babylonian tradition and did not require ejaculants to immerse themselves before observing religious rites.55 Jewish mystics, by contrast, believed that seminal pollution blocked mystical experience.56 Hekhalot literature, for example, prohibits contact with women in order to avoid any threat of seminal pollution. Medieval kabbalists enlarged these prohibitions, deeming onanites evil and teaching that spilled seed engenders demons.57 How then were male mystics able to assert that only they could achieve a level of purity suffi cient to att ain divine vision? Th e answer lies in the essential diff erence between male and female impurity. Th e normal genital discharges of men and women can be compared, but they cannot be and were not equated. Normal male discharge can be controlled,58 and by controlling ejaculation, men gain mastery of their sexuality. Talmudic rabbis, in fact, defi ned masculinity in terms of self-restraint. Satlow explains that “to be a man” meant “to exercise self-control in the pursuit of the divine through the study of Torah or a life of the mind.”59 Th e tannaitic isolation of baalei qeri from the sacred refl ects rabbinic ambivalence toward sexuality rather than any cultic nostalgia. According to PT Berakhot, requiring immersion aft er ejaculation keeps Israelites from behaving “like roosters who engage in sexual relations at all times.” Ejaculants were penalized in order to show that sexual activity was “incompatible with holy activity.”60 Menstrua- tion, by contrast, is not libidinal and women cannot control their fl ow. Length of ritual purifi cation is another essential diff erence between male and female impurity. Th e baal qeri must bathe his body in water and wait only until the evening of his issue to become pure. Menstruating women are deemed impure for seven days in the Bible and for at least twelve days in the Talmud. If biological diff erence and ritual purifi cation were the only disparities between men and women before the law, women could have engaged in mystical pursuits during the half of each month when they were ritually pure. A third disparity precludes women altogether: the very defi nition of male and female impurity in Leviticus. Fonrobert has shown that male seminal pollution and the menstrual fl ow are parallel in every respect except one: a man becomes ritually impure when he has a discharge “from his body [mi-besaro (Lev. 15:2)], whereas a woman is ritually impure when she has a discharge “in her body” [bivsara (Lev. 15:19)]. In eff ect, male impurity is exterior, and female impurity is interior.61 Women are susceptible to impurity at all times and are therefore continually barred from mystical practice — a legal construction that

10 · Introduction also accounts for the absence of post-menopausal women mystics. In fact, in the Middle Ages menopausal women were considered especially dangerous because they could never rid themselves of their impurity.62

Th e mystery of the laws of niddah was so deep that it could not be disclosed to the unworthy. One of the secrets of the menstruating woman is put into the mouth of the hero of the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai, who revealed this secret to his circle alone. His explanation is not recorded.63 I shall endeavor to disclose the signifi cance of female impurity for Jewish spirituality in the following nine chapters. Part 1 explores the importance of purity in mystical pursuits in early Jewish mysticism and German Pietism. In chapter 1, I describe how Hekhalot literature transposed the purity requirements of the Temple cult to the heavens and note that the ascetic requirements for Hekhalot mystical praxis emphasized seminal pollution over menstrual impurity — an understandable bias given the fact that the practitioners were male. Th e signifi cance of menstrual impurity for early mysticism was only fully expressed in the Beraita d’Niddah and related traditions, the subject of chapter 2. In chapter 3, I trace these att i- tudes to medieval Europe and note a shift in emphasis. German Pietists broadened the command to avoid menstruants before engaging in mystical activity and adopted the strictures of the Beraita d’Niddah. I suggest that the Pietists’ heightened interest in menstruation was prompted by their esoteric theology. Th e central section of the book focuses on medieval Spanish Kabbalah. Chapter 4 describes how medieval kabbalists superimposed the celestial Tem- ple onto a sefi rotic structure and in so doing made ritual and sexual purity essential for all adepts. Th ese purity prerequisites substantially diff ered in degree from those in earlier mystical traditions because kabbalists had to struggle with impurity in a theurgic universe. In fact, the importance of menstrual impurity for mystical practice gave rise to the myth of the menstruating She- khinah, the subject of chapter 5. Chapter 6 describes the role of the menstruating Shekhinah in kabbalistic theosophy and praxis. When pure, the Shekhi- nah promoted divine unity. When impure, she became a dangerous force of evil that had to be banned, literally niddah, from the divine realm. Chapter 7 demonstrates how kabbalistic understandings of menstruation directly af- fected the status of medieval Jewish women. Kabbalists appealed to natural philosophy and medieval medicine to justify their att itudes toward women.

Introduction · 11 Anathema to God and dangerous to man, medieval Jewish women were thus barred from “normative” mysticism. Part 3 looks at the role of menstruation in medieval Muslim and Western Christian mysticism. Th ough medieval Muslims and some Christians maintained purity laws, menstruation was not a barrier for women in either religion during the high Middle Ages. Indeed, Christianity and Islam’s att itude toward menstruation highlights the diff erent criteria for mystical success for each religion. Chapter 8 explores menstrual laws in Islam and argues that the quotidian nature of human impurity in Islam diminished the stigma of menstruation: purity of soul rather than purity of body is prerequisite for mystical success. Chapter 9 addresses the persistence of purity laws in the Latin West through the thirteenth century and demonstrates how the fl owering of Christian women’s spirituality coincided with the diminishing interest in menstrual laws.

12 · Introduction I Early Jewish Mysticism

1 From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple Impurity in Early Jewish Mysticism

Th e theology that would become Kabbalah derived in part from the mystical experiences and ascetical practices that were preserved in the Hekhalot literature. Scholars vary widely in their dating of Hekhalot literature, some dating its origin as early as the second century CE, thereby situating the literature in the rabbinic period, and others extending its duration through the thirteenth century.1 Th ese traditions likely originated in Palestine, then transmitt ed from there to Babylonia, Cairo, and Italy before many texts were eventually redacted in the twelft h through thirteenth centuries by the German Pietists.2 Hekhalot literature, like much of subsequent Jewish mysticism, is informed by the Temple cult. Th e term Hekhal refers in temple architecture to the vestibule in front of the Holy of Holies; in the mystical tradition, this physical construct is abstracted to refer to the heavenly palaces through which the adept must past to reach the throne of God.3 Th ose aspiring to achieve a mystical vision are oft en described as Merkavah mystics. Th e term Merkavah refers to Ezekiel’s vision of a mobile temple. Just as Ezekiel transformed the Holy of Holies into a mobile symbol of the connection to God to satisfy the spiritual needs of a people in exile, so too the Merkavah mystics moved the Temple to the heavens themselves, so that the mystic could become like a latt er-day high priest and enter a celestial Holy of Holies.4 Th ese mystics believed that they must actively pursue God, strengthening themselves for this task by adhering to ascetic prerequisites and undergoing moral and ritual purifi cation.5 Joseph Dan identifi ed three types of merkavah mystical experience: (1) the heavenly ascent, (2) the adjuration of an angel to earth, and (3) contempla- tions on the measurements of God’s body (Shiur Qomah).6 Th e fi rst two types are relevant here. For the heavenly ascent, the adept must fi rst undergo

15 ascetic preparations, whereaft er he may embark upon the dangerous journey to the divine realm. Inhospitable angels immediately att empt to bar his entry, but magical prayers and the powerful name of God aid his admitt ance to the heavenly palaces. If he is true to his task, he will eventually att ain his goal: vision of the divine throne and participation in the angelic liturgy.7 For the second type of merkavah experience, the adjuration,8 the mystic uses magical incantations, similar to those found on Babylonian magic bowls and amulets.9 If the adjuration is successful, an angel known as the Prince of Torah (Sar Torah) will appear to divulge the secrets of Torah.10 Access to this heavenly Temple and divine secrets, like access to the Jeru- salem Temple, is, in the Hekhalot literature, restricted to the ritually pure.11 Seminal or menstrual pollution preclude the mystic from achieving his goal, thus the rationale for the observance of the laws of menstrual impurity and seminal pollution diff ers greatly from the talmudic. Th e rabbis of the Talmud were torn between the desire for marriage and children and the desire for Torah study. Many felt that sexual desire was inimical to divine pursuits and therefore prohibited ejaculants from performing sacred acts, such as reading the Torah and praying for the community, lest rabbis copulate “like roosters in a hen yard.”12 Th ese prohibitions demonstrate the rabbis’ ambivalence toward sexuality and their seduction by Hellenistic and Christian asceticism, rather than cultic concerns.13 Indeed, the Talmud focuses on the sexual rather than the cultic aspect of menstrual isolation. Menstruants are prohibited only from performing domestic tasks that would promote intimacy between husband and wife. Hekhalot literature, by contrast, focuses on the cult, with many texts enlarging upon Temple cult rituals to create a celestial cult in a world without a terrestrial Temple.14 Physical purity therefore remains essential aft er the destruction of the physical Temple because human impurity disqualifi es adepts from divine service and Torah knowledge. In contrast to cultic ritual, however, the ascetic prerequisites of Hekhalot literature emphasize avoiding seminal pollution over menstrual impurity or menstruants. Th at is not to say that menstruation was marginalized or ignored. Rather, Hekhalot literature transvalues menstrual impurity and makes it the province of men. Indeed, some Hekhalot texts co-opt menstrual purifi - catory rituals and transform them into ascetic mystical techniques. Others privilege knowledge of menstrual laws as one of the goals of the mystical experience. Another text uses extra-rabbinic halakhic (legal) standards to transform menstrual impurity into a magical tool. Th is unique treatment of men-

16 · Early Jewish Mysticism strual impurity, which gives us insight into the culture and concerns of the authors of Hekhalot literature, highlights the perceived antagonism between the niddah and divine pursuits. Th ere is one noteworthy exception to this tendency to disassociate women from their bodily issue in Hekhalot literature. When an adept wishes to learn the name of God, he must avoid looking at menstruants. Because the knowledge of the name of God became one of the most essential aspects of medieval Jewish mysticism, this single ascetic regimen would outweigh others in its signifi cance. pursuing god through purity

Th e underlying assumption of Hekhalot literature is that impurity represents the antithesis of heavenly sanctity. Th e pure and impure realms cannot mix. A mystic who undertakes an ascent while impure would incur the wrath of angels; an adjuror would not succeed in calling down the Prince of Torah.15 Hek- halot literature, like the Qumran Scrolls, expands the cultic defi nition of purity to include both moral and ritual impurity. He who wishes to descend into the chariot (yored merkavah) must be “clean and free of idol worship, illicit sexual relations, murder, slander, perjury, conceit and groundless hatred and perform all the positive and negative commandments.” Similarly, one may use the formulae required to adjure an angel only if one approaches God in “awe, fear, purity, aft er immersion, in honesty, asceticism, humility, and fear of sin.”16 Th e emphasis on the need for physical purity for divine vision marks a dramatic shift in the possibilities for a divine–human encounter in a post- Temple world. Th e Bible presents two types of divine–human interaction. Th e priestly writers and the Deuteronomist present the Temple in Jerusalem as God’s offi ce on earth. Th rough elaborate preparatory rituals, the high priest may enter God’s offi ce in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. An unqualifi ed or ill-prepared high priest could kill himself and wreak havoc on his fellow Israelites. Classical prophecy is the other prominent form of divine–human encounter in the Hebrew Scriptures. In contrast to the activity of the high priest, the classical prophet is essentially passive. Th ere are no prerequisites for classical prophecy. God chooses the prophet, and he must obey the call. Aft er the destruction of the Temple, these two means of divine interaction were erased. Th e Holy of Holies was destroyed, and the Second Temple never achieved the same cachet as the fi rst. eTh rabbis suggested that the Shekhinah,

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 17 God’s indwelling, never rested upon the Second Temple,17 and they negated the possibility of prophecy, stating that prophecy ceased in the days of Haggai and Malachi.18 How then to achieve divine communion? Unlike the classical prophet Ezekiel, who could passively wait for the Merkavah to appear to him, these heroes actively pursue God, strengthening themselves for this task through ascetic prerequisites and moral and ritual purifi cation.19 Merkavah mystics use purity as a magical tool to call God by combining the purifi catory requirements of the high priesthood and the ecstatic experience of the prophets.20 Indeed, according to one passage, divine communion is achieved not by “prophets and seers but by means of purity and cleanliness.”21 Like the tenets of sympathetic magic, mystical practitioners must be pure to approach a pure God,22 or they must be in a state of purity to use his pure name for magical purposes.23 Both the Hekhalot mystic and the magician aspire to discover mysteries and to have their desires fulfi lled: the Hekhalot mystic yearns for the secrets of Torah while the magician hopes to learn the ways of the demons in an att empt to control their actions.24 It is not surprising, therefore, to fi nd that the purity rituals in magical texts are strikingly similar to those found in Hekhalot literature.25 For example, a magician who wants to make a request of an angel must undergo an elaborate three-week cleansing process, during which he must avoid certain foods, “may not approach” a niddah (menstruant), a corpse, a leper, or a zav (man with an abnormal discharge), and must guard himself from qeri (semen) and the emission of semen.26 Note that the language employed evokes the biblical usage: the magician, like the male Isra- elite in Leviticus 18:19, must “not approach” a menstruous woman. As these formulae make clear, both seminal and menstrual pollution hin- dered magical endeavors. Not only was purity prerequisite for divine pursuits, but menstrual impurity could be used to suspend a heavenly vision. Th e association between purity and divine pursuits is not unique to Hek- halot literature and magical formulae, but appears as well in rabbinic material. For example, in the Beraita of Rabbi Pinh. as ben Yair: It is taught: “Be on your guard against anything untoward” (Deut. 23:10): A person should not have impure thoughts during the day, lest he encounter impurity at night. From here R. Pinh. as ben Yair says: “Heedfulness leads to cleanliness, cleanliness leads to abstinence, abstinence leads to purity, purity leads to holiness, holiness leads to modesty, modesty leads

18 · Early Jewish Mysticism to fear of sin, fear of sin leads to saintliness, saintliness leads to the Holy Spirit, the Holy Spirit leads to the revivifi cation of the dead.”27 Th is ladder to spiritual success appears in the middle of a rabbinic elaboration of the biblical purity requirements for military camps. God’s indwelling (Shekhinah) accompanied Israelite soldiers to batt le and rested upon their camp. To maintain the high level of purity necessary for God’s indwelling, ejaculants were barred from the military camp.28 According to the beraita, purity from seminal pollution constitutes the fi rst rung in the ladder toward spiritual success.29 Men must fi rst be “heedful” to avoid impure thoughts that could lead to ejaculation. (Th e term “untoward” in Deut. 23:10 refers to impure and lustful thoughts [hirhurim] that would cause a soldier to ejaculate.) Success in this endeavor would lead fi rst to cleanliness from sin and then to abstinence.30 Because sexual abstinence would free men of the possibility of seminal pollution in sexual intercourse, they could progress to the next level: purity. Th e state of purity would then help them acquire a level of holiness that would ultimately lead to the revivifi cation of the dead. eTh diff erence between this rabbinic text and the Hekhalot material is primarily one of ex- plicitness in specifying that purity leads men to God.31

Th e Baal Qeri as Niddah Some rabbinic dicta forbid ejaculants to engage in earthly liturgy and Torah study; Hekhalot literature bars ejaculants from the divine Temple liturgy and Torah secrets.32 Th e rationale for the antagonism between ejaculants and the holy, however, varies. Th e rabbis barred only ejaculants from sacred acts because they believed that sexual activity was incompatible with holy activity; the ritual purity status of the ejaculant was not at issue since the Temple had been destroyed.33 Hekhalot mystics, by contrast, imposed the purity requirements of the Temple cult upon the heavenly realm and barred the ejaculant from mystical activity because he was ritually impure. All of the possible rabbinic defi nitions of baal qeri are found in Hekhalot literature. In the ascension report and adjuration of Rabbi Aqiva, for example, the unmarried adept is cautioned against becoming an onanist, while the married mystic is told to separate from his wife lest he become an ejaculant in sexual intercourse.34 Some texts refer to other forms of ejaculation; for example, if a mystic should “see qeri, even during the day,” in the midst of his

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 19 ascetic preparations, he must begin all of his eff orts anew.35 Th e addition of the phrase “even during the day” indicates that the text refers to both nocturnal emissions and to conscious ejaculation. Th e prescribed period of isolation from seminal pollution varies in the Hekhalot materials. Seclusion for three days or seven days is most common and clearly invokes biblical and mishnaic precedents. Th e need to separate from women for three days to prevent seminal pollution alludes to the imposed period of separation before the granting of Torah at Mount Sinai (Exo- dus 19:15).36 Seven-day separations may refer either to the levitical purifi cation period for the man with an abnormal genital issue (zav)37 or more likely to the high priest’s seven-day period of isolation before Yom Kippur.38 Just as the high priest separates from the community in order to purify himself before entering the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur, the mystic, high priest of the heavens, purifi es himself for seven days before entering the celestial hekhal.

Th e Mystic as Niddah Explanations for other time requirements are less obvious. Several texts call for a twelve-day period of fasting, prayer, and seclusion.39 For example, a practitioner who suspects that he may have become polluted by qeri while preparing to adjure the Sar Torah must remain in seclusion for twelve days. Why twelve? A close reading of the instructions provides the answer: Whoever [wants to] be bound up with the Prince of Torah let him wash his clothes and undergarments, let him immerse in a strict bath because of the doubt of having had an emission of pollution. And let him enter and sit for twelve days in a room or in an upper chamber. And let him neither leave nor eat nor drink except from evening to evening. In order that he might eat his bread with a clean (pure) hand, and drink pure water, and not taste any type of vegetable.40 Th e suspected baal qeri is told to wash and immerse himself in a “strict bath,” which I assume refers to full immersion in a river or stream rather than to the more lenient option of washing with only nine qav of water.41 Yet the aspiring adjuror is not purifi ed by immersion alone. eTh means of achieving complete purifi cation of this exclusively male form of pollution are framed in

20 · Early Jewish Mysticism decidedly female terms. Th e baal qeri must fi rst “sit” for twelve days, a period of isolation identical to that required of the niddah, who must separate from her husband for a minimum of twelve days — at least fi ve days of actual fl ow and seven additional clean days.42 Th us, the impure adept becomes a niddah; he must separate from the divine just as menstruants must separate from their husbands.43 Th e references to female biology continue in the description of the site of confi nement. eTh adept must remain in a chamber (h. eder) or an upper chamber (aliyah). Th ese words refer not only to rooms in a home but also to reproductive organs in a woman’s body. Th e rabbis oft en described female anatomy by the architectural terms h. eder, prozdor (hallway), and aliyah.44 According to the Mishnah, blood from the chamber is always impure, while blood from the hallway is of doubtful purity.45 Confi ning the mystic to a chamber is therefore a symbolic act: the niddah-like adept must reside in the metaphorical place of origin of impure blood.46 Th e aspiring mystic longs to cross the boundaries of the terrestrial world in order to communicate with the divine. Th e anthropologist Van Gennep defi ned this moment of transition from one realm to the other as the liminal state — “a moment of suspension of normal rules and roles, a crossing of boundaries and violating of norms, that enables us to understand these norms.” In medieval Europe, male saints would oft en describe their liminal states, that is to say, their key moments of transition or eonversion, in symbols that reverse societal structure. Caroline Bynum has shown that “chief among these images [of reversal] is woman — as fact and as symbol. For example, when Francis of Assisi renounces his father, he prays to Mary and claims, like her, to give birth to his fi rst child — his fi rst disciple. 47 Th e adept in Hekhalot literature undergoes a similar symbolic transformation. In the midst of his metamorphosis from adept to mystic, he undergoes a symbolic reversal in which he becomes impure like a menstruant — an image underscored but his twelve-day confi nement in the chamber or the upper chamber. Only then may he emerge purifi ed and spiritually reborn.

Avoiding Women Th at the initiate becomes like a menstruant does not suggest an underlying sympathy for women in Hekhalot literature. Indeed, Hekhalot literature’s use of female symbols not only reaffi rms but intensifi es rabbinic understandings.

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 21 A mystic can only achieve his quest by breaking free of the impure womblike chamber — that is, by completely separating from women. Some rituals require complete separation and demand that the initiate eschew women before adjurations or ascent;48 others simply prohibit looking at women.49 Th ese prescriptions may refer either to women in general or to menstruants in particular. Given the great concern about seminal emissions in the ascetic rituals and the absence of any explicit mention of menstruants, it seems likely that the proscriptions belong to a general eff ort to prevent seminal pollution. Avoid- ing women obviates the possibility of sexual intercourse and prevents seminal pollution; not looking at women would prevent sexual arousal that could lead to nocturnal emissions or masturbation.50 By contrast, many of the food restrictions standard to the mystic’s ascetic regimen directly refl ect a concern for avoiding food prepared by menstruants. Before an ascent or adjuration, the mystic must fast during the day and eat specially prepared foods at night. He must abstain from vegetables, eat bread only with a pure hand, and drink only pure water. He must be just as vigilant about what goes into his body as he is about issue. While abstention from meat and vegetables refl ects other concerns, the many restrictions on bread and water are directly related to purity.51 Mystics are told to eat bread made by their own hands and to drink water that they have poured.52 Th is emphasis on food preparation refl ects cultic purity concerns. Priests were expected to partake of “pure” food in a ritually pure state. Th ey were given their cereal in pure vessels, and impure persons were barred from contact with their meals (Jud. 11:13).53 Th e Pharisees extended these requirements beyond the Temple Mount and ate only “pure” food in a ritually pure state. Palestinian rabbis maintained this custom aft er the destruction of the Second Temple, barring menstruating women from all manner of food preparation because their touch could pollute any food, drink, or utensil. Hekhalot mystics who saw themselves as latt er-day high priests carried on these cultic purity concerns in their warnings not to eat bread made by women54 or drink water that they pour.55 recognizing menstrual impurity in hekhalot literature

Hekhalot mystics not only wanted to avoid menstrual impurity but wanted to understand all of its nuances. Rabbis of the Talmud believed that they had the

22 · Early Jewish Mysticism ability to determine pure and impure bloods on the basis of color or smell: just as the high priest would diff erentiate between pure and impure skin le- sions on the basis of color, his successor, the rabbi, “as an expert on purity and impurity [was] trained in the diff erentiation of colors.”56 Hekhalot mystics, as high priests of the heavens, wished to att ain the ability to recognize diff erent types of impure blood in order to help women determine their purity status.57 Indeed, one passage states that God is aware of the Hekhalot mystic’s desire for this ability. Th e successful adept not only recognized impure bloods but was granted the ability to identify those who observe the laws of niddah: Th e greatest thing of all is the fact Th at he sees and recognizes all the deeds of men, even those that they do in the chamber of chambers, whether they are good or corrupt deeds If a man steals, he knows [it] and recognizes him; If one commits adultery, he knows [it] and recognizes him; If one has murdered, he knows it and recognizes him; If one is suspected of having intercourse with a menstruating woman, he [the adept] knows it and recognizes him.58 Greatest [power] of all is the fact that all creatures before him are like silver before the smith, who perceives which silver has been refi ned, which is impure, and which is pure. He even sees into the family — how many mamzerim [bastards] there are in the family, how many sons were sired during menstruation.59 As Schäfer has shown, the Hekhalot mystic as silversmith diff erentiating the pure from the impure is derived from the image of messiah in Malachi 3:23. Th e ability to recognize menstrual impurity facilitates a mystical experience, and is a mark of personal salvation.

halakhic magic?

In Hekhalot literature, menstrual impurity is not only a symbol, or divine secret, but a powerful force, inimical to the divine realm. Th is understanding of menstrual impurity is born out in one of the most famous episodes from Hekhalot Rabbati, the recall of Rabbi Neh. unyah ben Haqanah from a heavenly vision.60 While in the midst of a mystical trance, Rabbi Neh. unyah ben

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 23 Haqanah recounts his vision to his students. Th ey are unable to understand his description of the gatekeepers to the sixth palace, and because they live in precarious times under Roman rule, they are afraid to wait for an explanation until their master emerges from his trance. Th ey ask Rabbi Ishmael to recall Neh. unyah from his vision to immediately clarify his account. As the heavenly journey is an intense experience fraught with peril, Rabbi Ishmael must fi nd a way to call Neh. unyah from his vision without endangering him. Because impurity is not suff ered in the heavenly realm, he fi nds his means of recall in a menstruating woman. Rabbi Ishmael enlists the aid of a woman whose purity status has been called into question on two counts.61 First, she is suspected of improper immersion in the ritual bath. (Immersion is valid only in the absence of all barriers between a woman’s body and the purifying water). Something precluded this woman’s full immersion, and she is therefore considered one who immersed herself “but whose immersion has not been successful.”62 She returns to the miqveh (ritual bath), successfully immerses herself, and should have become ritually pure. But Rabbi Ishmael and his followers doubt her purity status. Th ey ask a servant to place a clean piece of white woolen cloth beside her. No contact with the cloth is suggested. According to normative rabbinic law, a menstruant can convey impurity by carrying or sitt ing on an object but not through mere physical proximity. Here, by contrast, it seems clear that the cloth, lying next to her, is understood to have contracted some measure of impurity.63 Th e rabbis then explore the second reason her purity is suspect. A woman with fi xed periods should conduct an internal examination with a clean white cloth upon the scheduled onset of her fl ow veset( ). Th is does not refer to the actual commencement of the fl ow, only to the expected time of arrival. Be- cause this woman did not conduct the initial examination, her purity status is uncertain. She must, therefore, describe the events surrounding her fi xed period of fl ow to the company so they may determine her status. According to the majority opinion in the Talmud, if a woman with fi xed periods fails to examine herself at the scheduled onset of her period, but does so subsequently, when the fl ow actually begins she will be considered ritually pure.64 Consequently, most of the rabbis in the company consider her pure. Only one dissenting voice supports the minority position in the Talmud.65 Because the terrestrial legal system is based on majority rule, the woman, as far as halakhic status is concerned, is deemed pure. Th e group (h. avurah), however, is not con-

24 · Early Jewish Mysticism cerned with earthly aff airs but the divine realm, which, according to tradition, upholds minority opinions. Consequently, the h. avurah upholds the dissenting opinion and deems the woman ritually pure on earth, impure in relation to the heavens.66 Once declared impure from the mystical perspective, the woman is asked to touch the piece of cloth that lies beside her lightly with her middle fi nger so as not to convey leaning (midras) impurity.67 Th e cloth is then placed on a bough of myrtle that has been soaked in balsam.68 Th e group lays this treated cloth upon Neh. unyah ben Haqanah’s knees, exposing him to a measure of impurity discernible in the heavens alone. Ritually pure on earth but no longer suffi ciently pure in the divine realm, he is immediately recalled from his vision.69 Th is text is signifi cant to thisstudy on two counts: for its insight into the function of menstrual impurity in early Jewish mysticism, and for the clues it off ers into the character of the authors of Hekhalot literature.70 In the late- antique world, menstrual impurity was considered a powerful magical force in its own right.71 It is clear that menstrual impurity is here being used for magical praxis, and some scholars argue that this story illustrates the purely magical and extra-halakhic character of merkavah mystics.72 But the purity system is so central to Judaism that it seems imprudent to consider menstruation apart from its levitical signifi cance in Jewish texts. Th e fi rst part of this discussion is clearly informed by halakhah. Magic is not incompatible with either rabbinic Judaism or with Hekhalot literature; it inheres in both.73 Th is nexus of rabbinic Judaism, cultic purity concerns, halakhah, and magic has led several scholars to believe that the practitioners of Hekhalot mysticism were a group on the fringes of rabbinic society who were familiar with talmudic and midrashic literature.74 Rachel Elior more specifi cally identifi es these non-rabbinic mystics as Zadokite priests infl uenced by the ascetic traditions at Qumran.75 Indeed, the role of menstrual impurity in Hekhalot literature in general strongly supports both of these understandings. Hekhalot texts emphasize seminal pollution over menstrual impurity as the principal barrier to sacred acts. In fact, it is striking that, given the myriad of ascetic prerequisites for mystical vision, there is only one explicit prohibition against menstruants in Hekhalot literature — and this involves seeing rather than touching. One could argue that avoiding menstruants could be subsumed under the restrictions against seeing or speaking with women. Yet given the specifi c nature of

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 25 most of the prerequisites (e.g., not eating onions and garlic, not eating anything green), it is unlikely that the authors would have neglected details.76 More- over, one cannot argue that, as men, the Hekhalot authors focused exclusively on male impurity. For cultic practice, men needed to avoid menstrual impurity as well; husbands had to know the purity status of their wives not only to avoid sexual relations but also to avoid contracting secondary forms of impurity. Th e authors of Hekhalot literature had no such concerns. Th e rabbinic tension between asceticism and family life is absent in Hekhalot literature. It is as if we are entering a world where wives do not exist — a world where it is possible to separate from society for forty days and nights without worrying about marital obligations; a world where it is possible to fast for twelve con- secutive days including Shabbat; a world of ascetics on the fringe of rabbinic society, unconfi ned by marital obligations, who desire only the merkavah. Such a separate life would necessarily give rise to purifi catory rituals for baalei qeri and to exhortations to avoid women in general — menstruants per se would not need to be identifi ed specifi cally. I have found only one example of a ritual that specifi cally refers to avoiding menstruants: before learning the mysterious name of God, an initiate may not gaze upon a zav, a zavah, a metsora, or a niddah.77 Th e concern is not touch: ostensibly the practitioner is already separated. the mysterious name of god and the menstruant

Th e power of the name of God is one of the central themes in many passages of Hekhalot literature. Knowledge of the divine name empowers the mystic to ascend to the heavens, to summon an angel, and to guard against forget- ting Torah knowledge. Moreover, because God’s essence was identifi ed with his name, contemplating his name became a way of knowing God. Th erefore, though there is only one known direct proscription to avoid menstruants in Hekhalot literature, the fact that it appears amid the requirements to learn the names of God is signifi cant. Menstrual impurity is so antagonistic to heavenly pursuits that merely seeing a menstruant would impede learning the most holy of secrets.

Merkavah mystics enlarged upon the cultic purity system in order to engage in the divine service of the heavens. In contrast to priestly law, however, Hek-

26 · Early Jewish Mysticism halot literature emphasized avoiding seminal pollution over avoiding menstrual impurity or niddot. Most references to menstrual impurity are completely detached from biological woman. It is the symbol, the knowledge, or the power of the impurity that is at issue. Th e only Hekhalot ritual that I have found that specifi cally refers to avoiding menstruants involves learning the divine name.78 Th is absence, however, has more to do with the identity of the Hekhalot mystics than with unconcern with menstrual impurity. Th e authors of Hekhalot literature were likely ascetics informed by priestly custom and rabbinic law who were not bound by family concerns and, consequently, were unfett ered by family purity laws. When Hekhalot literature becomes absorbed into “mainstream” Judaism, the balance changes, and menstrual impurity surpasses seminal impurity as the major barrier to heavenly pursuits.

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 27 2 Th e Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah

Th e Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) is a collection of niddah laws and traditions traditionally dated to Geonic Palestine that isolates menstruants from ritually pure human beings and from all things sacred. Although we do not have a defi nitive text or known authors,1 many traditions in the BdN emphasize the antagonism between menstruants and the sacred and therefore strongly suggest an enduring affi nity with the Temple, rather than with the contemporaneous rabbinic house of study. Classical rabbinic texts do include, as we have seen, restrictions on marital intimacy during menstruation, but the restrictions of the BdN are very diff erent in their emphasis and scope. Many assume that purity is the prerequisite for engagement with the divine in a post-Temple world and justify these assumptions by enlarging upon the dangers of the menstruant. Indeed, the BdN’s traditions are similar to the cultic conception of purity in contemporaneous Hekhalot literature. Th e two traditions feature common heroes, similar linguistic style, and magical practices. But while the Hekhalot practitioners emphasized seminal pollution, the BdN’s even stricter precautions focus on menstrual impurity. differences between rabbinic halakhah and the precepts of the beraita d’niddah

Th e authors of the BdN emulated the much earlier rabbinic style of the Toseft a of the mishnaic period, and like Hekhalot literature, many of the BdN’s laws are att ributed to well-known talmudic scholars.2 Th e similarities to normative rabbinic literature, however, are solely limited to style and att ributions. Where the Talmud calls for the separation of menstruants from their husbands to preclude the possibility of illicit sexual relations, the BdN demands the complete isolation of menstruants from all pure human beings and from all things sacred.

28 Rabbinic law prohibits menstruants from performing only three acts: fi lling her husband’s cup, washing his feet, and making his bed — three domestic responsibilities that might lead to sexual intimacy. Menstruants are permitt ed to engage in all other sacred and domestic activities. Th ey are obligated to separate h. allah and light Sabbath candles and to recite the att endant blessings — two of three commandments specifi c towomen and traditionally believed to ward off death during childbirth.3 Th ey are permitt ed to pray and, according to one Toseft a, they are permitt ed to read from the Torah.4 Th ere are only two passages in the entire Babylonian Talmud that suggest fear of menstruants, and these may refl ect Zoroastrian infl uence.5 Sexual enticement, rather than impurity and danger, is the rationale for menstrual separation in the Talmud. Th e traditions of the BdN, by contrast, assume that that menstruants are dangerous and that menstruants must be barred from the sancta.6 For example: She who observes the laws of niddah neither cooks nor bakes for her husband. And she does not sift fl our nor shake out the bed, nor draw water for him from an earthenware container. Why? Because she is impure and she pollutes by necessity. Rabbi H. anina said, “even the saliva that she spits out unto the matt ress [pollutes her] husband and sons.” Th ey (menstruating women) are forbidden entrance to the synagogue until they immerse themselves. She who has relations with her husband while a niddah will cause her sons to disinherit the Torah; and that is not all, for she will cause them to be affl icted with leprosy for one hundred generations.7 A woman who is menstruating may not tend to the h. allah nor may she light Sabbath candles. Why? Because she would be guilty and would make her household guilty.8 Rabbi Levi said, “one must not set one’s eyes upon a menstruant.”9 A menstruating woman ought not take out her dough or her baking, nor should she carry it to the oven, lest she pollute it and a learned scholar eat it and behold his mind gets mixed up and he forgets his Talmud.10 A woman may not touch a dry utensil nor may she set one foot into a house that is fi lled with books nor a house that is prepared for prayer for she is impure and she pollutes by necessity.11 She must not touch anything holy. She does not have permission to ascend to her husband’s bed, for there is nothing as holy as her husband’s bed. She

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 29 may not enter a holy sanctuary. She does not have permission to enter houses of study or synagogues until she is purifi ed.12

According to the BdN, a niddah must separate from her husband because she is polluted and dangerous. She has the power to cause scholars to forget their Torah — a great danger in an oral culture — and can infl ict her progeny with leprosy — a living manifestation of corpse decomposition. Menstruants were not only perceived to be a potential threat to human beings but were also antinomic to the holy. Th ey could neither separate the h. allah nor light Sabbath candles, and they were denied entry to synagogues or to homes designated for prayer.13 Th ey were likewise barred from houses of study and from homes merely fi lled with Hebrew books.14 Th e menstruant’s mere presence had the power to annul the priestly blessing and to confuse Torah scholars. She was therefore barred from reciting public and private prayers.15 Rabbinic law requires all women to recite grace aft er meals and engage in prayer, and allows all impure persons to engage in silent benedictions.16 Th e BdN, by contrast, explicitly forbids menstruants to pray in public and in private because of her potential threat to God. Forbidding the impure to pray silently17 represents an unambiguous shift from rabbinic ideas that cannot be explained by the BdN’s equation of the synagogue with the Temple. Men- struants could conceivably be barred from the synagogue as Temple but not from prayer, a convention that developed independently from cultic practice. Th e BdN provides a rationale for the shift in the following.

Rabbi Yoh. annan said, “It is forbidden to inquire about a menstruant’s [literally, a sitt ing menstruant’s] welfare, lest she refl ect and say ‘amen’ and blaspheme the name of God.” Rabbi Yodan said, “It is forbidden to pro- nounce a blessing in front of a sitt ing menstruant lest she think and say amen and blaspheme.”18

Th is “law” seems puzzling at fi rst glance. How could asking about some- one’s welfare blaspheme the name of God? Th e answer lies in the interpretation of the polyvalent word shalom. In addition to its more common usages, the term may also mean the name of God, as in “the Lord is peace” (Judges 6:24). For this reason, BT Shabbat 10b forbids men to inquire about people’s welfare in bathhouses. One is not permitt ed to think about God in a bathhouse or in the toilet.19 Th ere is, of course, an essential diff erence among these parallels. In the Jewish tradition, urine and excrement are considered unclean but

30 · Early Jewish Mysticism not ritually impure. Th e BdN, however, does not make a distinction in this case. One must not inquire about a menstruant’s welfare lest she blasphe- mously refl ect upon God in her state of impurity. Th e BdN does make a distinction between the actual menstrual fl ow and the prescribed week of separation aft er the fl ow ends (known as the white days). In the excerpt above, it would at fi rst appear that Rabbi Yoh. annan and Rabbi Yodan repeat the same statement, but a signifi cant detail is missing in the second instance. In the fi rst,the menstruant is described as “sitt ing,” that is, actually bleeding. In the second, she is described merely as a menstruant, presumably in her seven clean days. Note the diff erent eff ects on God: when bleeding, she blasphemes the divine name; when she is in the period of her seven clean days, she desecrates ha-maqom. Th is Hebrew term, oft en used to refer to God, may also literally mean “the place” and may therefore refer to his dwelling. Th e menstruant’s degree of impurity aff ects the degree of her blasphemy. Th e polluted words of the menstruant are distinct from the pure words of God, whose “every utt erance . . . is one of holiness and purity.”20 Because her very speech was considered impure,21 she could not utt er the holy divine name. She was not only barred from reciting prayers but also from listening to those of others lest she meditate and say “amen,” a response tantamount to actually saying the blessing itself.22 Th e Talmud, by contrast, allows menstruants to pray at all times — seminal pollution alone raised a barrier to public prayer and Torah study.23 Whereas rabbinic niddah restrictions are meant to preclude the risk of illicit sexual relations, the BdN is driven by a perceived need to protect male worshippers, sacred sites, and God from menstrual impurity. Th e Talmud categorizes the niddah as one of ten fathers of impurity. Of these, the rabbis deem corpse pollution the gravest form, “the Father of the fathers of impurity.” Th e Talmud associates corpse impurity, rather than menstrual impurity, with magical practices and impure spirits.24 In keeping with Leviticus, the rabbis forbade priests all contact with corpse impurity because this priestly prohibition extends beyond cultic boundaries. Kohanim (priests) continued to avoid corpse impurity aft er the destruction of the Temple, and even now, many descendants of priests will enter neither cemeteries nor homes containing corpses.25 Priests did not need to be as vigilant in avoiding menstrual impurity, according to rabbinic sources. For example, according to the ninth-century rabbinic Midrash Tanh.uma:26

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 31 “Th eir ways are like menstrual impurity unto me.” Like menstrual impurity and not corpse impurity. If there is a corpse in a home a priest may not enter, but if a menstruant [is in a house], a high priest may enter the house. Th e high priest may enter the house with her, and sit with her on [the same] couch solely that she not be expelled.27 While priests must always avoid corpse impurity, in classical rabbinic texts like this one, they can approach menstruants because menstrual separation for cultic ritual was no longer necessary. Contrary to rabbinic sources, the texts in the BdN establish a nexus between corpse impurity and menstrual impurity: If a Kohen were to raise his hands [to recite the priestly blessing] when his mother is impure or his wife is impure or one of his daughters is impure, behold the prayers of Israel would become an abomination and he would cause himself to be lost from the world. Moreover, he would not exempt Israel from the fulfi llment of their duty.28 A rationale for the severity and restrictiveness of the laws of the BdN may be found in the following: Rabbi Yoh. annan said, “a man may not walk behind a menstruant and step upon the dirt (upon which she passed) which is impure. Just as she is impure, her dirt is impure and one may not benefi t from the work of her hands.” Th is statement is based on a talmudic idea that men should refrain from walking behind women to defray possible sexual excitement.29 Yet the BdN alters this focus, concentrating instead on danger of the menstruant. Th is shift is even more explicitly articulated in a textual variant that reads: Rabbi Yoh. annan said, “a man is forbidden to walk behind a niddah and step upon her dust because just as she (or possibly he that walked over her ashes) is impure like a dead person, so too are the ashes upon which she treads impure . . . menstruants, parturients, those who have had miscar- riages, and those who nurse, are thought to have corpse impurity, the ohel (overshadowing impurity) and sherets (creeping things). Th ey cannot become purifi ed until they have immersed themselves in a miqveh [ritual bath]. Priests are therefore not permitt ed to eat their food. We have made the laws more strict upon ourselves, and we do not eat food out of the same platt er, nor food made by her hands.”30

32 · Early Jewish Mysticism In the Second Temple period, many sectarians maintained the priestly practice of refraining from food that had been touched by impure persons outside the Temple precincts; and the Jews of Palestine continued to eat “pure food” aft er the destruction of the Temple and excluded menstruants from food preparation. Th e BdN justifi es their continued exclusion from food preparation by equating menstrual impurity with corpse pollution. An- other BdN tradition also confl ates the fl ux and corpse purifi catory rituals. Leviticus requires sprinklings of water mixed with the ashes of a red heifer (mei niddah) to purify corpse impurity; Rabbi H. iyya, however, mourns the destruction of the Temple because priests can no longer purify zavim, zavot, and parturients “with sprinklings of water or with the red heifer.”31 Here the menstruant is given the same status and purifi catory requirements as the father of the fathers of impurity, death itself.32 Th e great link between death and menstruation may also provide the etiology of the BdN’s warning that sexual relations with a menstruating woman will result in leprous children.33 Th e association between sexual relations with menstruants and leprosy fi rst appears in the Jewish tradition in Leviticus Rabbah, but is repeated many times in the printed version of the BdN. One pronouncement altars the focus signifi cantly: “Come and see how harmful menstrual impurity is before the Holy One blessed be He. Anyone who does not guard himself from a menstruant will contract tsaraat.”34 Th e phrase “come and see” is a midrashic idiom that announces sinful behavior. For example, Midrash Tanh. uma on Korah. reads, “Come and see how harmful it is to sow the seeds of dissent: whenever anyone foments dissent, the Holy One blessed be He erases his memory.” Other midrashim use the “come and see” formula to demonstrate the evils of desecrating God’s name, gossiping, and dissension among judges.35 Th is BdN tradition uses a midrashic convention to illustrate the dangers of the menstruant. Th e pronouncement sets up a dichotomy between the menstruant — symbol of death — and the God of life. Any man who does not respect this distinction will be struck with tsaraat, the human manifestation of corpse decomposition.36 Th e identifi cation of corpse pollution with menstrual impurity had three major consequences for subsequent Jewish practice. First, spirits of impurity that had been associated with death in near-eastern and late-antique sources are transferred to the menstruant in the BdN.37 Second, it becomes impossible for latt er-day priests to approach menstruants. And third, the menstruant as death becomes the opposite of the God of life.

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 33 the beraita d’niddah and priestly traditions

Th e BdN’s antipathy towards menstruants suggests a priestly connection. Th ough Leviticus suppresses a common ancient near-eastern belief in the demonic possession of menstruants,38 an association between menstruation, death, and evil remained entrenched in the priestly imagination. Milgrom notes the association between menstruation and death in Leviticus: since “the life of the fl esh is in the blood”(Lev. 17:11), the loss of menstrual blood may be understood as the death of a potential life.39 Th is nexus between menstruation and death may underlie the perceived need to separate menstruants from God in the Israelite Temple cult. Yahweh is the God of life and blood is the material means by which he vivifi es. Menstruants represent death and must, therefore, remain separate from the sancta. Priestly sources used the term niddah as a symbol of evil — a metaphor to describe total separation from the sacred. Lamentations explains that aft er the destruction, “Zion spreads out her hands, and there is none to comfort her: the Lord commanded against Jacob, adversaries round about him. Jeru- salem is like a menstruous woman" (1:17). Verse 1:8 describes Jerusalem “like a niddah” because of her sins. In Babylonia, Ezekiel compared idolatry to menstruants, stating, “you will treat as impure the silver overlay of your images and the golden plating of your idols. You will cast them out like a menstruous woman” (7:19–20).40 And aft er return, Ezra, scribe and priest, described the land of Israel as a “land of niddah,” polluted by the menstruous deeds of the people of the land (9:11).” Th e post-exilic priestly source Second Zechariah, dated to the fi fth century BCE, most explicitly att ests to the aversion between menstruation and the divine. Zechariah 13:1 explains that the spirit of impurity will only fl ow from the land at the eschaton, when “a fountain shall be open to the House of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem for h.att aat u-le-niddah.41 Despite the priestly aversion to near-eastern demonology, these biblical priestly sources refl ect a perennial distaste for the menstruant. Qumran sectarians, who claim priestly descent, similarly equated menstrual impurity with the unholy. Th e Qumran community describe themselves as Zadokites, the authentic heirs of the Solomonic priesthood, and they developed an alternative purity system based on their own maximalist interpretation of the purity laws of Leviticus.42 Fragment 4Q 274, on ritual purity and dated to the fi rst century BCE,urges menstruants not to “mingle (with others) during her seven days so as not to contaminate the ca[m]ps of the

34 · Early Jewish Mysticism sanct[ities of] Israel; also she is not to touch any woman with a blood fl ow lasting man[y] days.”43 Some Qumran sources envisioned barring all women access to an impurity-free Jerusalem in the messianic age. Th e ideal Temple would extend well beyond Mount Moriah to the borders of the city of Jeru- salem itself. Because God would dwell within this expanded area, only the ritually pure would be granted entry.44 Th e priests in the Temple Scroll bar menstruants and those with niddah-like uncleanness from the idealized Tem- ple just as the biblical priests barred those with corpse impurity, scale disease, and genital discharges from the camp (Numbers 5:1–4).45 Moreover, where priestly sources in the Bible had metaphorized menstrual impurity as sin, Qumran literature equates menstrual impurity with sinfulness.46 Because man is born of women, he is the “mystery of carnality and the source of menstruation”47 and he is bound to “human impurity.”48 Sins “are like menstruation in His (God’s) eyes.”49 Th e pure seek justice, possess pure thoughts, and “separate themselves from all manifestations of menstruation.”50 Purity/holiness and impurity thus became a means of self-defi nition51 and eventually became bound up with their dualistic mythology.52 Indeed, affl icting demons were oft en described as spirits of impurity. For example, the “Plea for Deliverance 19 (11QPsa),” entreats “Let not Satan rule over me, nor an impure spirit.”53 Th e War Scroll describes evil spirits as committ ing “works of menstrual impurity.”54 Th e Rule of the Community identifi es the impure spirit with menstrual deeds and describes sinners “wallowing in a spirit of niddah.”55 Exorcism through prayer became a means of defense against these impure demons. In one liturgical text, the sage adjures the power of God to frighten and to terrify all “spirits of the angels of destruction, and the spirits of bastards . . . to prevent all polluted sin.” Th ese spirits of bastards are signifi - cantly described as “impure as their menstruation.”56 Another liturgical text att ests to the exorcism of “bastards, and the spirits of impurity” (mamzerim ve-ruh.ot ha tumah).57 Th us impurity is reifi ed into an ungodly source in Qumran literature.58 Aft er the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, late-antique Juda- ism was not limited to the rabbinic tradition.59 Pagan motifs in Galilean synagogues and priestly imagery in liturgical poetry att est to late-antique Jewry’s diverse spirituality.60 Th e BdN’s traditions emerge in this chaotic post-Temple period in which all Jews needed to forge new identities. Th e rabbis, for example, metaphorized Temple cult practice into Torah study and prayer, and devoted two-thirds of the Mishnah to legal explication of cultic laws.61 Hekhalot

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 35 literature transferred Temple cult rituals to the heavens in an elaborate set of mystical and magical narratives. Th e BdN similarly focused on the enduring relevance of purity and the Temple cult for engagement with the divine, but its focus is primarily legal. Nevertheless, the BdN’s many discussion of priests and purity speak to its specifi c interests in the antinomy between menstrual impurity and all things sacred and suggest an enduring affi nity with the Tem- ple cult. Just as menstruants had been barred from the Temple Mount, they were now barred from all forms of Jewish spirituality in the post-Temple world. Th e Torah Scroll, Jewish books, and houses of study became new holies of holies. Th ese sacred objects were a means of knowing God and, as such, a means of communing with God. Consequently, the BdN required its readers to obey purity rituals that had once been limited to priests. the beraita d’niddah’s similarity to hekhalot

Th e BdN’s priestly emphasis on purity and the sacred most closely corresponds to that found in Hekhalot literature. Th e need to separate the menstruant from the sacred as Temple is similar to the need to bar her, or those polluted by her, from a heavenly realm designated as the Holy of Holies. As we saw in chapter 1, merkavah mystics conceived of themselves as latt er-day high priests whose physical purity was the essential prerequisite for ascent to the celestial throne or to adjure an angel to teach the secrets of Torah.62 Saul Lieberman was the fi rst scholar to associate the strict purity laws of the BdN with the legal philosophy formulated in Hekhalot literature,63 and Michael Swartz and Rebecca Lesses have noted a connection between the BdN and the ascetic rituals required for Sar Torah adjurations.64 I believe that there is an even stronger connection. Th e BdN not only informs the ascetic rituals in some Hekhalot texts but also independently refl ects a mystical consciousness. Th e authors of the traditions in the BdN, like the authors of Hek- halot literature, were trying to discover a viable spiritual solution to a Judaism without a Temple. Th e rabbis had their Talmud. But the authors of the BdN and Hekhalot materials were “ambivalent” toward rabbinic halakhah. Th ey did not sublimate Temple cult symbols, but enlarged upon them, making the Temple and the Torah the essential aspects of religious life. Indeed, traditions in the BdN focus on priestly contact with menstruants, off er anecdotes about high priests, and endow Jewish ritual objects with sacred status. Th e BdN’s authors, like merkavah mystics, were likely a scholarly group with a strong

36 · Early Jewish Mysticism priestly base who were informed by rabbinic culture but not bound to it.65 Palestinian liturgical poets in the seventh century and later medieval mystics certainly assumed a connection between the two,66 for when Hekhalot and BdN traditions were transmitt ed to Europe, mystics employed the ascetic requirements of the BdN for the pursuit of merkavah. Th e BdN and Hekhalot literature represent two faces of the same coin with respect to ritual purity. Th ere is, however, one essential diff erence in their att itude toward impurity. Hekhalot literature assumes no demonic aspect to impurity. Impurity only aff ects man’s relationship with God. Physical pollu- tions disqualifi es the adept from divine pursuits and can imperil the mystic while on a heavenly journey, but it poses no danger to other human beings. Th e BdN, by contrast, propounds that the menstruant is anathema to both God and man, and this is the understanding that is bequeathed to medieval Europe.

the heroes of the h. avurah story in the beraita d’niddah

Part One — Rabbi Ishmael Many scholars have explained the magic and halakhic ethos of the h. avurah story in Hekhalot Rabbati in light of the BdN. Yet there is an even greater overlap between these traditions. Th e heroes of the h. avurah story, Rabbi Ish- mael the high priest and Neh. unyah ben Haqanah fi gure prominently in the BdN, and comparing these traditions will throw light on the many similarities between the literatures and their one essential diff erence. Rabbi Ishmael, the member of the h. avurah who conceives of the method of safely extracting Neh. unyah ben Haqanah from ecstasy is oft en associated with female purity in rabbinic sources. Traditions of his birth are based on folk wisdom about infl uencing the fetus. Sexual position, state of mind, modesty, purity, and perceptions that entered the body by the eyes were all believed to be especially important for the conception of healthy and learned children.67 Observing the laws of purity contributed to that eff ort,68 but those who observed ritual requirements were not immune to danger. Women would guard their eyes upon their return from the miqveh, because anything they saw would aff ect the fetus they were going to create. For example, it was thought that should a woman see a dog, the child she conceived would resemble a

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 37 dog.69 Alternatively, should a woman see a beautiful and learned man, she would conceive a handsome and wise son. Th e talmudic scholar Rabbi Yo- h. annan would intentionally sit at the gates of the miqveh so that women leaving the ritual bath might see him and conceive children with both his knowledge and his good looks.70 According to a BdN tradition,71 Rabbi Ishmael’s mother had the misfor- tune always to encounter unsightly objects upon her return from the ritual bath. Afraid to infl ict harm on any child she might conceive, she apparently abstained from sexual relations. God pitied her and sent Metatron, “the heavenly angel par excellence” and hero of much of Hekhalot literature,72 to sit outside the miqveh so that she might gaze upon his face and conceive a son with his beauty and his merits. Consequently, she bore a son named Ishmael, who was both handsome and wise.73 Metatron maintained an interest in young Ishmael long aft er preparing his conception. According to one account, Metatron held Ishmael on his lap during the ritual of circumcision (sandaq), thereby becoming his spiritual parent or godfather.74 As spiritual guide, Metatron not only facilitated Ish- mael’s entrance into the covenant of Abraham but also taught him the divine name, the key to the supernal realm, which Ishmael would use before he as- cended to the heavens or adjured an angel. Several versions conclude with an account of Ishmael’s adjuration of Hadraniel, Sar ha-Panim.75 Rabbi Ishmael was oft en described as vigilantly separating himself from menstrual impurity.76 And he was associated with purity concerns not only in birth and life, but in death.77 Among the ten tannaitic martyrs executed by the Romans, Rabbi Ishmael was imprisoned with Rabbi Shimon, who was trou- bled by their impending execution. Shimon explained that although he did not fear death, he did not wish to be executed “like murderers and Sabbath breakers” (several texts include idol worshippers and sexual transgressors in this list). Rabbi Ishmael responded that they no doubt deserved their fate because there was certainly a time during which they were not free to answer a woman’s questions concerning her menstrual impurity.78 Rabbi Ishmael’s spiritual success is directly related to his mother’s observance of niddah laws.79 Th e perceived causal relationship between proper observance of family purity and mystical vision is therefore the subject of several of the statements att ributed to him in the BdN. For example, he claims that menstrual impurity is so damaging that exposure will lead men to hell and that the wise woman will discourage her husband’s approaches during her

38 · Early Jewish Mysticism menstrual fl ow in order to facilitate his entry into paradise.80 Yet the term paradise is vague. Does it mean mystical practice? May these virtuous men follow Ishmael’s example and enter the celestial realm while living, or must they wait until aft er death? Rabbi Ishmael clears up this confusion in a subsequent statement, explaining that the secrets of Torah will be granted to men who observe the laws of niddah. Th ese “secrets,” which include the ability to distinguish between the impure and the pure and to discern inner meanings, parallel the knowledge acquired by successful adjurants of the Sar Torah.81 Th is statement therefore introduces a preparatory ritual neglected in most Hekhalot techniques. Ac- cording to the BdN, scriptural secrets, a veiled allusion to mystical knowledge, may only be achieved by strict isolation from the niddah. Such an antagonism between menstruants and the att ainment of wisdom echoes a text in the Ge- onic Sefer ha-Miqtsoot, in which Rabbi Aqiva is said to have believed that he had att ained glorious wisdom by three practices: he did not harbor sinful thoughts, he did not look upon priests while they were chanting the priestly blessing, and he did not speak with women while they were menstruating.82 In Hekhalot literature, as noted by Michael Swartz, Rabbi Ishmael’s own “ ‘enlightenment’ not only consists of spiritual or intellectual insight, or encompassing wisdom; he has also been blessed by the angel with an excep- tional memory.” Swartz has emphasized the role of memory in Hekhalot writings and has shown that “one of the Sar Torah’s most precious gift s to the practitioner is a spectacular memory.”83 Forgetfulness was particularly debilitating in cultures that depended on memory rather than the writt en word. Here, too, Rabbi Ishmael’s scrupulousness about purity concerns may be part of what is seen to protect him, as the BdN emphasizes that menstrual impurity poses a threat not only to Torah knowledge but also to memory. Eating food polluted by a niddah is said to cause a scholar to forget his Torah.84

Part Two — H. anina/ Neh. unyah A tradition in the BdN, also enlarges upon the bearing of the most prominent fi gure in the .h avurah story, Neh. unyah ben Haqanah. While out walking, H. anina, a probable reference to Neh. unyah,85 encountered a woman and immediately hid his face. Th e woman drew back three cubits and asked the rabbi whether blood that resembles the fluid of garlic or onions renders women

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 39 impure. H. anina/Neh. unyah replied that she ought to spread dry mustard on the blood. If the fl uid rises above the mustard she is a niddah; if not, she is pure.86 In keeping with the talents of Hekhalot mystics, Neh. unyah/H. aninah is able to discern people’s purity status by sight and smell.87 Realizing she was a menstruant, he immediately covers his eyes — thereby trying to follow the Hekhalot precept that one who wishes to learn the holy name of God should not look at a menstruant.88 Perceiving his discomfort, she immediately withdraws a signifi cant distance but does not leave. She continues to question H. anina because she knows that successful Hekhalot mystics, like the rabbis, were endowed with the ability to “recognize bloods and to show menstruants what to do.”89 Because she was uncertain of her purity status, she was obliged to describe her discharge so that he might determine whether she was niddah. Th e woman’s comparison of her fl ow to a household item or vaginal discharge to foodstuff s was common in rabbinic literature. To distinguish between the pure and impure, the Rabbis took pains to give precise and recog- nizable descriptions of the fi ve colors of impure blood.90 Th ey compared blood to common fl uids, ranging from black ink to a diluted form of a wine grown in the Sharon Valley. It is interesting, however, that she compares her discharge to the liquid of onions and garlic in particular. Hekhalot mystics may have been forbidden to eat vegetables because of their strong scent.91 Presumably such strong smells would annoy angels, who could not suff er the stench of man.92 Garlic and onions are pungent, and menstrual blood may have been perceived as equally pungent. Indeed, according to BT Niddah 63b, onions stimulate the menstrual cycle.93 Moreover, certain rabbis in the Tal- mud were able to determine the purity status of blood through smell alone.94 Just as angels immediately discern the scent of man, H. anina/Neh. unyah perceives that the woman is niddah before she speaks. Th e association between the two in the passage suggests another rationale for heavenly travelers to avoid menstrual blood. the menstruant and the name of god in the beraita d’niddah

Th e story of H. anina/Neh. unyah demonstrates familiarity with Hekhalot mystical practices, as well. Mystical practitioners would adjure a Sar Torah or

40 · Early Jewish Mysticism ascend to heaven by means of one of the most potent magical tools known in antiquity — the divine name.95 Yet in addition to its ritual function, the name of God is also identifi ed with God himself. According to the macro- form Maaseh Merkavah, He [is] his name and his name is he [is] “he [is]” in “he [is],” and his name in his name.96 Signifi cantly, the sole reference to avoiding menstruants in Hekhalot literature occurs in the description of an ascetic technique to learn the holy name of God.97 In order to learn the divine name, the adept must “not look at the face of a menstruating woman, nor eat the bread, nor drink the water of women . . . He must not eat onions and garlic or vegetables.” Th at this regimen contains the three basic components of the H. anina/Neh. unyah story — averting the face of menstruants and onions and garlic98 — suggests a direct connection between Hekhalot literature and the BdN. Th e divine name is the mystical focus of the BdN. In chapter 3:2, “God” states that men may come closer to “my name” only through vigilant observance of menstrual laws and self-purifi cation.99 While the phrase “closer to my name” may refer to apprehension of the divine name for mystical praxis, it more likely refers to divine vision. Elliot Wolfson has shown that in Hekhalot literature “the form of God is subsumed under the names of God, such that knowledge of the name replaces the vision of the glory as the goal of the mystic.” Hence, according to Wolfson, “to behold the King in his beauty — to gaze upon the enthroned form of God — is eff ectively to have a vision of the divine names.”100 Th us, in the BdN, one can draw close to the name of God, that is, achieve a mystical vision, only through self-purifi cation and observance of menstrual laws. An anonymous compiler of niddah laws underscores the importance of this idea in an exegesis of Leviticus 20:26, where he explains that God exhorts the faithful to observe menstrual laws in order to be “holy to me.”101 “What is ‘to me’ to my name. Just as my name is holy so too must you be holy because I am holy.”102 Th is text not only identifi es God with his name in the context of separating from menstruants but also describes the need to separate from menstruants

Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 41 as a form of imitatio dei. Man must separate from menstrual impurity and be holy, just as God must separate from menstrual impurity because he is holy.103 Th e BdN’s emphasis on the antagonism between God’s name and menstrual impurity foreshadows an important development in Jewish mysticism that will have far-reaching implications for menstruants’ access to the sacred. Th e tetragrammaton was equated with God’s ontic nature; his place (maqom), with the Holy of Holies. Th is identifi cation rationalizes the BdN’s need to sacralize all objects that contain the holy name. Holy books containing God’s name are like the Holy of Holies in a world without a Temple. Th ey demand purity and menstruants must be barred.

Th e antagonism between menstrual impurity and divine pursuits suggested in Hekhalot literature is most fully expressed in BdN traditions. Th e BdN combines two distinct understandings of menstrual impurity: (1) the importance of purity for divine pursuits and (2) the notion that menstruants are possessed by an impure spirit.104 Th e importance of purity for divine pursuits is akin to the understandings of impurity in Hekhalot literature. Indeed, if we understand the authors of the Beraita as informed by Hekhalot literature, the ferocity of its laws become more comprehensible. Its authors are envisioning not only an earthly but a heavenly Temple. Th ese latt er-day high priests of the heavens must avoid niddot at all costs because their impurity rivals corpse impurity and will bar them from their ultimate goal — vision of the divine name. Th e sole proscription against seeing menstruants in Hekhalot literature appears in an ascetic regimen for learning the divine name. Th e BdN enlarges upon this proscription and justifi es itthrough reinterpretations of rabbinic law. Hence, like the authors of Hekhalot literature, the authors of the traditions of the BdN are likely a group informed by rabbinic halakhah and priestly traditions but not bound by the beit midrash. Later medieval mystics did not diff erentiate between the diff erent literatures and incorporated both Hekha- lot material and the BdN into normative Jewish tradition. In medieval Jewish mystical contemplation, for example, the four-wheeled merkavah retains its signifi cance and becomes identifi ed with contemplation of the tetragrammaton. Knowledge of the divine name is not only a magical means to att ain a vision but is also itself the object of contemplation. Th us, the traditions of the BdN become prerequisite for achieving mystical vision, and the BdN became the document that legitimized Jewish women’s exclusion from mystical practice.

42 · Early Jewish Mysticism 3 Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz

Th e emphasis on human purity for mystical pursuits characteristic of the originally Palestinian traditions recorded in Hekhalot literature and the Be- raita d’Niddah (BdN) infl uenced Jewish exoteric and esoteric piety among the burgeoning Jewish communities of the Mediterranean basin. Jews, who moved farther north to pursue economic opportunities in the Frankish em- pires, retained their Temple nostalgia and described their communities in cultic terms. Th ese Ashkenazic communities maintained purity laws oft en ignored by their brethren in the East. Th e mystics among them were particularly vigilant in the observance of sexual purity laws. Th e German Pietists or H. asidei Ashkenaz, a revivalist and mystical group in the Rhineland in the twelft h and thirteenth centuries, were particularly vigilant in their observance of menstrual laws; indeed H. asidei Ashkenaz incorporated its non-rabbinic strictures into their halakhic treatises and mystical praxis. Th e stricture of their niddah practices were not only a sociological phenomenon; it also refl ected a new development in their mystical theology. Against the backdrop of the traditions of the BdN, H. asidei Ashkenaz cultivated a bisexual conception of the Godhead, an innovation that would eventually infl uence theosophical Kabbalah. Once mystics conceive of an aspect of God as feminine, female biology can become signifi cant in both the human and the divine realm.

the bdn on the mediterranean

We have precious litt le evidence for the history and theology of Jews in early medieval Europe. But the evidence that we do have strongly suggests that they were infl uenced by Palestinian Jewish culture and early Jewish mysticism. Th e ninth-century southern French bishop, Agobard of Lyon, describes

43 the beliefs of his Jewish neighbors in terms identical to those found in Shiur Qomah literature and merkavah mysticism.1 Th e eleventh-century Scroll of Ah.imaats (Megillat Ah.imaats), an Italian family history embedded in a string of fabulous tales,2 describes Merkavah traditions as an integral part of elite Byzantine Jewish culture, and the narratives, though not historical, teach us signifi cant aspects of early medieval mystical practice.3 Indeed, Ah.imaats off ers one of the earliest examples of the infl uence of the ethos of the BdN on European soil — an ethos that would directly infl uence .H asidei Ashkenaz.4 Aft er a discussion of his illustrious ancestors Ammitai, Shefatiah, and Abdiel, Ah.imaats describes the demise of his relative Barukh as follows: Abdiel had a son whose name was Barukh, who was not as learned in the Torah as his fathers had been. In his home, Barukh kept Sefer ha-Merkavah (Book of the Chariot) which R. Shefatiah had used all his life. One day, as darkness fell on the eve of the Sabbath, [the day] on which God rested from all His work, there was no one to kindle the light before Sefer ha- Merkavah. A woman who was cursed, she was niddah, kindled the light before the Torah — may she be blott ed from the book of life and kept out of the world to come. [Consequently] the wrath of God fell upon that family. Many died of plague; only a few survived. Th ere was a Jew among them who was an expert; he recognized and understood the signifi cance of the event. He seized the book, put it into a leaden case and [went to the sea] in order to cast it into the abyss. [As he stood near the shore] the water immediately receded a mile. Th e Jew then threw the case into the sea. Th e waters returned to their bounds, the evil decree was immediately annulled, and the plague ceased. But the memory of Barukh perished; his lamp was extinguished; he left no one to engage in Torah study.5 Th e tale justifi es the end of the line of Barukh — euphemistically named “blessed” in Hebrew — the undeserving off spring of a scholarly family, and the author’s notion that a menstruant’s approaching a holy book could bring about a catastrophe perpetuates an important theme found in early Jewish mysticism. Ah.imaats’s ancestors were students of Jewish mysticism who “knew the secrets and uncovered the principles of H. okhmah (Wisdom) and Binah (Understanding); they were enlightened by Sefer Yashar and saw the secrets of the divine chariot.”6 As adepts, they were certainly familiar with the importance of purity within the mystical and magical system. Ah.imaats’s juxtaposi-

44 · Early Jewish Mysticism tion of the menstruant and a Sefer ha-Merkavah is not accidental.7 Rather, it deliberately frames a family tragedy in the cultural terms of Hekhalot literature and the BdN. Th e menstruant in the Scroll causes the plague by performing two acts: She kindles a light on the Sabbath eve and she approaches a work of merkavah mysticism. Ah.imaats does not describe the fi rst act clearly. eTh niddah may either have kindled the Sabbath lamp or lit a type of eternal lamp (ner tamid) near a Sefer ha-Merkavah. If she lit Sabbath candles, one of three acts specifi - cally required of women in rabbinic law, she transgressed a precept of the BdN. But Ah.imaats says nothing of Sabbath lights or of the recitation of a blessing.8 Further, according to the BdN, a niddah who kindles Sabbath lights incurs guilt and infl icts guilt upon her family, but the niddah of theScroll un- leashes a catastrophe. Her off ense, it would seem, may have had more to do with the Sefer ha-Merkavah than with Sabbath lights. Th e Sefer ha-Merkavah is described as a holy book, meaning the taboo against menstruants in the presence of the divine that is prominent in the Hekhalot literature and in the BdN could apply here. Just as the slightest taint of menstrual impurity could interrupt a heavenly vision and cause bodily harm, so too the menstruant’s performance of a ritual act in the presence of a holy book could have the power to cause a plague. Th e menstruant in the Scroll may have sinned by approaching the Sefer ha-Merkavah and lighting an eternal fl ame or some other type of lamp customarily lit before the Torah. Th e practice of the eternal fl ame began in talmudic times as a reminder of the continuously lit Temple menorah. Originally placed in the western wall of the synagogue, like the menorah, the ner tamid was soon moved to the front of the Torah ark. Th e faithful gradually expanded the custom and began to illuminate the Torah in all places as a sign of the “light” of the law.9 In the Scroll, Ah.imaats may have extended the practice of the ner tamid to the Sefer ha-Merkavah. Signifi cantly, he uses the terms Torah and Sefer ha-Merkavah interchangeably here.10 In a culture in which esoteric lore and magic were highly valued, a Sefer ha-Merkavah may have been ac- corded the same honor as or even greater honor than the canonic Torah. H. ai Gaon, for example, describes Hekhalot Zutarti as a mishnah. Th is elevation of the status of mystical texts appears in the Hekhalot literature itself in many references to books of mysteries as “torah” or “mishnah.”11 Among medieval mystics, mystical books were thought to capture the divine essence. Th ey could be considered as sacred as the Torah scroll because

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 45 they contain divine names oft en identifi ed with God’s ontic nature and describe divine theophanies to be reexperienced by the adept. As such, they function as the Holy of Holies in a world without a Temple, becoming the locus of divine sanctity and providing the hope of divine communion. Ritual purity in their presence is essential. In Hekhalot Zutarti, Suria, the angel of the countenance (sar ha-panim) taught Rabbi Ishmael, “If one is careful because of this book and purifi es himself, angels, assemblies of serafi m, stars and con- stellations, and the throne of glory will all love him. And the righteous and upright and the fathers of the world will pray for his life and bequeath the garden of Eden to him.”12 A niddah who approaches a Sefer ha-Merkavah is neither “careful” nor “purifi ed.”13 Th e BdN forbids a menstruating woman even to set foot into a house that is fi lled with books that contain the divine name.14 Th e menstruant in the Scroll would therefore have violated the spirit of the Hekhalot adjuration and the laws of the BdN when she kindled a lamp before a Sefer ha-Merkavah.15 According to the BdN and Hekhalot mysticism, a menstruating woman was not only forbidden to light Sabbath candles, she was also barred from the sancta. In a system where purity is the key to the divine realm and pollution a barrier, a menstruant’s performance of a ritual act in the presence of a Sefer ha-Merkavah would bring impurity into the proximity of a holy book. Ah.imaats’s description of the epidemic and its cure reveals the terms in which menstrual pollution was understood in southern Italy. Th e wise man cures the plague by placing the Sefer ha-Merkavah into a lead casing and throwing it into a body of fresh water. Th is act strikingly echoes another story in the Scroll, in which a demon is exorcised with a very similar procedure. In that story, Basil I asked Ah.imaats’s ancestor Rabbi Shefatiah, the fi rst owner of the Sefer ha-Merkavah, to cure his daughter who was possessed. Rabbi Shefatiah took the princess to a pure, secluded place. He then invoked the divine name, and the demon “immediately came forth and tried to escape but he [Shefatiah] caught it and put it into a leaden chest. Shefatiah covered the chest on all sides and sealed it with the name of his Maker. He then dropped it into the sea, and let it sink into the mighty waters.”16 Illness and physical pollution were commonly att ributed to possession by evil and impure spirits in the Middle Ages, and exorcists att empted to heal the sick by freeing their bodies of malevolent and impure forces. Th e BdN similarly suggests a belief in the possession of menstruants by spirits of impurity. We may therefore infer that the niddah in the Scroll, like menstruants in

46 · Early Jewish Mysticism the BdN, was considered possessed by a spirit of impurity, and this polluted the Sefer ha-Merkavah. Exorcism was the only means to cast out that spirit and to stop the plague the spirit had unleashed.17 Following the exorcism ritual of Rabbi Shefatiah, the “expert” placed the polluted Sefer ha-Merkavah into a lead casing, considered impermeable to demons,18 and in a frontal at- tack upon evil spirits, threw it into a body of fresh water, a purifi catory agent for man and a means of neutralizing magical states. Th e water receded for almost a mile, and the plague was stayed.19 Th e menstruant in Megillat Ah.imaats’s tale combines the cultic purity concerns of Hekhalot literature with the need to separate menstruants from the sancta that is characteristic of the BdN. But the equation of the Sefer ha- Merkavah with the Torah scroll, indeed, by analogy with the Holy of Holies in the Temple cult, brings the need to separate menstruants from the sacred in the realm of the everyday. And more importantly for this study, the tale shows rabbinic Jews and mystics believing as early as 1054 that the failure to separate menstruants from the sancta had dangerous consequences.

the temple in ashkenaz

When some Italian Jews left Italy for Northern Europe in the early Middle Ages,20 they disseminated their cultic focus and mystical beliefs. Ashkenazic Jews, like their forebears in Palestine, harbored a “cultic nostalgia.”21 Th ey considered their community holy and associated the synagogue with the Temple.22 It is therefore not surprising that sexual purity and worship are of primary concern in several of the halakhic works compiled by the students of the great talmudic and biblical commentator, Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh. aqi (Rashi) aft er his death in 1104. For example, although Ashkenazi legal compendia are famous for their disorganization, Sefer ha-Orah, begins with the laws of seminal emissions, and the contemporaneous Sefer ha-Pardes begins with menstrual laws. Th ese and other collections of laws from the school of Rashi record that many niddot would neither enter synagogues nor touch the Torah.23 Th ough the anonymous authors admit that women need not act in this way since the synagogue is not the same as the Holy Temple, they nonetheless laud the women’s piety, stating “[the synagogue] is a place of purity, and they, therefore, act properly.”24 In fact, one manuscript fragment of the Sefer ha- Pardes admires women who would not even look at the Torah scroll while a niddah.25 Although these twelft h-century Ashkenazi sources clearly state that

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 47 there is no halakhic basis for this practice, separation from the sacred is nonetheless described as a laudable expression of women’s piety.26 Contemporaneous Sephardi communities, by contrast, did not accept the isolation of menstruants from the sancta.27 In fact, Nitronai Gaon believed that menstruants who refrain from prayer contradict talmudic law because according to BT Bekhorot 27a, menstruants must separate the h. allah — an act that requires a blessing. Nitronai concludes that though a menstruant is forbidden to perform certain household functions, she is not exempt from her duties to God.28 Moreover, the Geonim of Babylonia under the infl uence of the dominant Muslim culture imposed short-lived additional regulations separating husbands and their menstruating wives, such as barring menstruants from food preparation and from family meals. Th ey do not restrict menstruants’ spiritual opportunities — an omission that is particularly striking because Islamic menstruants not only refrained from certain domestic duties but were barred from mosques and ritual prayer.29 Th e eleventh-century North African halakhic codifi er Isaac Alfasi explicitly states that a niddah must pray.30 Maimonides does not even mention the practice of excluding menstruants from the sancta in his Mishneh Torah, and he explicitly condemns the practice of isolating menstruants in his Guide of the Perplexed.31 Th e contrast between medieval Ashkenazim and Sephardim regarding the isolation of menstruants from the sancta is noteworthy. On the whole, Ash- kenazi women enjoyed greater freedom than their Sephardi sisters. Moreover, Sephardi Jews were familiar with the purity rituals ubiquitous in Islamic culture and must have known that menstruating Muslim women were barred from mosques and from ritual prayer.32 Why then, did Sephardi Jews permit menstruants to engage in sacred acts, while Ashkenazi Jews, living in Chris- tian society where menstrual laws had lost much of their signifi cance, isolate menstruants from the holy? Th e answer lies partly in the Ashkenazi focus on the Temple cult, a legacy of their Palestinian origins, but the divergence in menstrual customs between Ashkenaz and Sepharad must also be understood within the context of the Jewish mystical tradition. As noted above, the founders of the Jewish communities in Ashkenaz inherited Hekhalot and BdN mystical traditions from their Italian forebears that, together with the importance of purity for divine pursuits, became an ingrained part of Ashkenazic culture.33 Because custom in Ashkenaz was oft en given the force of law, even halakhists who were not necessarily mystics lauded menstruants who separated themselves from the

48 · Early Jewish Mysticism sacred.34 Eleazar of Worms (d. 1217), however, was the fi rst Ashkenazi halakhist to call for the isolation of menstruants from the sacred, and he felt the need to justify his position in the name of “Maaseh ha-Geonim.” Few later Ashkenazi halakhists forbid menstruants access to the sancta outright.35 But the force of custom alone is insuffi cient to explain Eleazar’s explicit transformation of a laudable expression of piety into law.36 Eleazar of Worms was not only an ascetic and a halakhist but a mystic for whom purity was essential to achieve divine vision. Th e traditions of the BdN, transmitt ed by his family and rooted in mystical traditions and Temple cult concerns were the obvious choice for his mystical practice and informed by his mystical theology. Eleazar infused a twelft h-century spiritual practice with the force of law, and, in so doing, directly infl uenced the opportunities of Ashkenazic and Eastern European Jewish women in later Jewish mysticism.37

the bdn and the mysticism of h. asidei ashkenaz

Th e spirit of the BdN is clearly expressed in the writings of the German Pi- etists, direct descendants of the Qalonimides, a prominent family of Italian Jewish scholars that migrated to the Rhineland in the early Middle Ages.38 Th ough the German Pietists thrived in the Rhineland for a relatively short period,39 their infl uence on Jewish mysticism extended far beyond the span of their active period. Not only did their esoteric theology (torat ha-sod) profoundly infl uence the development of Spanish Kabbalah,40 but their penitential practices indirectly infl uence Jewish piety to this day.41 Th e German Pietists were infl uenced by their Italian ancestors and acknowledged the debt in their foundation legend:

Th ey received the esoteric traditions about the arrangement of the prayers as well as other esoteric traditions, rabbi from rabbi, all the way back to Abu Aaron, the son of R. Samuel the Prince [ha-nasi], who left Babylonia because of a certain incident and he was therefore required to travel all over the world [as a penance]. He came to the land of Lombardy, to a certain city called Lucca. He there found our Rabbi Moses who composed the liturgical poem “emat nora otekha,” and he transmitt ed all of his esoteric traditions. Th is is R. Moses bar Qalonimos, son of Meshullam b. R. Qalonimos b. R. Judah. [Now R. Moses] was the fi rst who emigrated from

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 49 Lombardy, he and his sons, R. Qalonimos and R. Yequtiel, and his relative R. Itiel, as well as the rest of the people who counted. All of them were taken from Lombardy by King Charles who resett led them in Mainz. Th ere they grew to prodigious numbers until 1096 when the Lord visited His wrath upon the holy communities. Th en were we all destroyed, utt erly destroyed, except for a few of our relatives who survived including R. Qa- lonimos the Elder. He transmitt ed [the esoteric traditions] — as we have writt en — to Rabbi Eleazar H. azan of Speyer. R. Eleazar H. azan transmitt ed them to R. Samuel the Pietist and R. Samuel the Pietist transmitt ed them to R. Judah the Pietist. And from him did I, the insignifi cant one ha-[ qatan], receive the esoteric traditions about the prayers as well as the other traditions.42

Th e antagonism between menstruants and the sacred expressed in the Scroll of Ah.imaats was one of these esoteric traditions. In fact, H. asidei Ashkenaz borrowed the motif of the niddah from the Scroll to explain Judah the Pietist’s move from Speyer to Regensburg in the twelft h century. Asher ben Yeh. iel, or another student of the German Tosaf- ist, Rabbi Meir of Rothenberg (1215–1293),43 records the Pietist tradition as follows:

Rabenu Samuel the Pietist, Holy One, and Prophet, who begat Rabenu Abraham of Speyer and Rabenu Judah the Pietist of Speyer who was exiled from the land of his birth to the district of Regensburg on account of a certain incident. His wife touched his case. He had warned her: “Do not come near the case when you are not pure.” She forgot and touched it. Th e case contained holy mysteries writt en on notebooks.44

Aware of both the menstruant’s power and the need for purity in the vicinity of sacred books, R. Judah cautioned his wife not to approach the box in which he had placed his holy book of mysteries while she was a niddah. She did not heed his warning, and her indiscretion is described as the cause of the rabbi’s move. Once again we fi nd that a menstruant’s proximity to a mystical work brings about a disaster.45 Historians have suggested both positive and negative motivations for Judah the Pietist’s relocation from his ancestral homeland, Speyer, to Regensburg. He may have been motivated by a “lack of popularity in Speyer,”46 by a desire

50 · Early Jewish Mysticism to establish schools in nearby Poland,47 or by a combination of the two.48 He may have also pursued economic opportunity in Regensburg, which was then a growing city with many commercial opportunities that att racted many Jews, including some prominent Tosafi sts.49 But in the tradition that Rabbi Meir of Rothenberg’s student records here, the niddah motif was not an arbitrary borrowing. Rather it indicates the continuing prominence of concerns with menstrual purity among the H. asidei Ashkenaz.

the niddah in the mystical theology of h. asidei ashkenaz

Th e German Pietists were not only heirs of merkavah traditions but also largely responsible for their preservation.50 Th ey understood the importance of purity for mystical pursuits in the early tradition and adopted these notions into their own practices, but with the major diff erence that they focus on menstruation rather than ejaculation.51 Th us, although Hekhalot traditions formed a basis for the esoteric theology of H. asidei Ashkenaz, their purity practices were largely infl uenced by the BdN. H. asidei Ashkenaz are, signifi cantly, the fi rst group in Europe to quote from the BdN. Th ey incorporate its strictures into their everyday practices and give them a prominent place in their penitential literature. Some scholars might argue that the Pietists’ use of the BdN refl ects their general ambivalence toward women, an ambivalence that Judith Baskin suggests may have been infl uenced bysurrounding Christian culture. Monasti- cism may have seemed very att ractive to some Pietists who wanted to escape from the opposite sex, but celibacy was not an option for Jewish men, who had to fulfi ll the obligations of marriage. Customs advocating separation from women and the intensifi cation of menstrual laws may have been a means of leading a relatively “celibate” life within the constraints of Jewish law. Th e Pi- etist would sublimate his feelings for his wife to intensify his love of God.52 Yet this “erotic theology” was dictated not only by the Christian cultural context but also by Pietist theology.53 Both the purity requirements necessary for divine vision and the Pietists’ esoteric theology caused them to emphasize the antagonism between menstruation and mysticism; they fused the practices of Hekhalot traditions with those of the BdN to promote a more sweep- ing separation of the menstruant from the holy.54

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 51 purity requirements among h. asidei ashkenaz

Th e German Pietists drew from Hekhalot beliefs and practices and imbued their mystical theology with merkavah symbols.55 Physical purity was essential for a mystical vision of the heavenly Temple, but Pietists needed to adapt the purity requirements of merkavah mysticism.56 Some Hekhalot preparations required separating from society for up to forty days. Long periods of separation may not have posed a problem for non-rabbinic Hekhalot mystics not bound by halakhic conventions,57 but such techniques would have proved very diffi cult for a rabbi whose family obligations included satisfying his wife sexually. Th e German Pietists’ position within rabbinic Judaism precluded the possibility of such extended isolation. Unlike Hekhalot practitioners, they could not completely separate from women to protect themselves against all possibility of seminal or menstrual pollution. Instead, they strove to att ain this kind of isolation within society, and as a result Pietists hoping to att ain a divine vision were vigilant observers of all purity laws. Pietists, somewhat like talmudic rabbis,58 believed that human sexuality was antithetical to heavenly pursuits. For example, Eleazar of Worms states in Sefer ha-Shem that “the unique name is not revealed except to one who has nullifi ed the lust for women.”59 To avoid sexual arousal, Pietists were advised to refrain from looking at women in the belief that men who observed this precaution would be granted a vision of the divine glory.60 Although a Pietist could ignore women in general, he could not avoid his own wife, with whom he had both sexual and procreative responsibilities. Th is social and cultural reality may be refl ected in the Ashkenazi defi nition of baal qeri. While the term continued to refer to men who had either masturbated or had a nocturnal emission, Ashkenazi halakhists no longer applied the term to those who experienced ejaculation in conjugal intercourse.61 A mystic could fulfi ll his conjugal obligations and participate in mystical activity. Non-procreative emission of semen, by contrast, inhibited spiritual success. According to Eleazar’s halakhic work, Sefer ha-Roqeah. , a baal qeri (narrowly defi ned) would need to immerse himself before prayer62 — one of the most important means of att aining mystical vision of the celestial merkavah.63 But marital life also posed the risk of menstrual pollution. Th us, for a Pi- etist to maintain the level of holiness needed for his mystical pursuits, purifi - catory rituals were bound to include avoidance of menstruants. Pietists therefore adapted ideas nascent in Hekhalot literature and made explicit in the

52 · Early Jewish Mysticism BdN. For example, as noted, the sole reference to avoiding menstruants in the Hekhalot literature occurs in connection with learning the mysterious name of God.64 Th e BdN elaborates upon this motif, and Eleazar of Worms adopted it into his mystical praxis. Contemplation of the divine name became one of the most essential aspects of Pietist esoteric theology, since the image of the name was tantamount to an image of the divine chariot. Separation from menstruating women became a prerequisite for att aining this vision.65 Moreover, the Sefer ha-Malbush urges mystics who wish to learn the secret of the divine name to avoid even eating food prepared by a niddah.66 Eleazar rationalizes such separation by associating menstruants with murder, explaining that women experience a monthly blood fl ow because Eve shed the blood of Adam, and he identifi es the fi vetypes of impure menstrual blood in women with the fi vefold appearance of the phrase “shedding blood” in Ezek. 22:1–10. Th ose who engage in sexual relations with niddot would similarly be associated with murder and are therefore banned from any experience of the divine.67 In adopting the strictures of the BdN, the Pietists maintained the greatest possible degree of separation within marriage. Th e Pietists’ focus on menstrual laws is apparent in their penitential literature.68 Most Pietist private penitentials have a uniform tripartite structure.69 Penances begin with sexual matt ers, then proceed to murder, apostasy, oaths, and slander, and fi nally addressthe desecration of God’s name and the violation of negative precepts.70 Th e general outline of the fi rst section usually corresponds to the following patt ern: 1. Sexual intercourse with an unmarried ritually impure woman 2. Sex with an engaged or married woman 3. Sex with a Christian woman or an animal 4. Kissing and fondling without sexual intercourse 5. Sex with one’s ritually impure wife 6. Stealing 7. Infl icting monetary, physical, or verbal harm Menstrual transgressions constitute two of the seven listed violations. Sex with a menstruant, the fi rst sexualtransgression for which one must perform penance, is clearly of primary concern to the Pietists.71 Th e fourth transgression, sex with one’s wife who is a niddah, comprises three diff erent possible prohibitions: having sex with one’s wife who is niddah, erotic physical contact, and kissing or hugging one’s wife prior to her statutory immersion.72

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 53 Th e penitentials proclaim that any Pietist who has physical contact with his menstruating wife must undergo a forty-day expiatory exercise that includes lashings; abstention from meat, hot foods, and wine; daily confessions; and ablutions in cold water.73 Th ough a man is permitt ed to be alone with his menstruating wife, he may not discuss lascivious matt ers, engage in any physical acts of aff ection, or eat or drink with her. Th ese restrictions are lift ed as soon as the woman has immersed herself in the miqveh.74 Th e sins that require penance, in this and similar texts, are, as Ivan Marcus has noted, the same as those listed in Hekhalot Rabbati that prevent “the mystic from being in a state of necessary purity for achieving a mystical vision.”75 Strikingly absent from most Pietistic penitentials, however, is any mention of seminal pollution,76 which in Hekhalot texts had been so strongly emphasized over menstrual impurity and which would later cause so much anxiety in Kabbalah.77 Th e stress on menstrual laws in the fi rst section of the penitentials highlights the Pietists’ reformulation of the merkavah prerequisites in light of their theology and cultural needs.78 Th e new concern about menstrual laws is most explicit in Pietist halakhah. For example, in Sefer H. asidim, Judah the Pietist explains that infants die when their mothers do not observe niddah laws.79 He warns men to avoid looking at menstruants80 and to reject any food they might off er them.81 Judah’s disciple, R. Eleazar of Worms, includes the fi rst .H asidei Ashkenaz quotation from the BdN in his Sefer ha-Roqeah. : I have found writt en in the work, Maaseh Geonim: Said Rabbi H. iyya in the name of Rabbi H. anina ben Dosa: you will fi nd that when the matriarchs observed menstrual laws they immediately went into labor. Rabbi Yoh. annan said: the niddah is dangerous; all women who do not observe the laws of niddah cause their sons to be affl icted with boils. Rabbi Ish- mael: the menstruant is dangerous, she causes her husband to inherit hell . . . A woman who is careful about her status as a niddah may not cook for her husband, nor bake, nor sift fl our, nor lay out the bedding, nor pour water from any vessel to an earthenware vessel, for she is impure and renders others impure. Moreover, she is forbidden [emphasis mine] to enter the synagogue until she immerses herself in water82 Where Rashi and his students cite the practice of menstruants avoiding the synagogue as a laudable custom, Eleazar makes it a law.83 Moreover, where the school of Rashi believed that purity is not the rationale for the practice

54 · Early Jewish Mysticism because “the synagogue is not the same as the Holy Temple,” for Eleazar, to a certain extent, it is.84 Just as menstruants were barred from the Temple in Je- rusalem, they are barred from its contemporary incarnation, the synagogue.85 Shaye Cohen off ered a similar explanation for the isolation of menstruants and baalei qeri from the sacred in the BdN.86 But as we have seen, the equation of synagogue with Temple in the BdN also has its foundation in early Jewish mystical practice, and it is this heritage that infl uences Eleazar’s writing. Rather than att ribute the laws to the BdN, however, Eleazar cites them in the name of the Maaseh Geonim, a collection of laws based upon the late- eleventh-century Ashkenazi compendium Sefer Maaseh ha-Makhiri.87 Yet the niddah passages are absent in the printed version of Maaseh Geonim,88 and later, an anonymous halakhist misatt ributes them to Saadia Gaon.89

sexuality in pietistic theology

Th e introduction of the BdN into the precincts of normative halakhah profoundly infl uenced later Ashkenazi piety.90 Yet Eleazar’s own interest in the BdN was likely a refl ection of both mystical praxis and the role of sexuality in his esoteric theology. Because contemplation of the supernal merkavah continued to be a central aspect of Pietist theology, purity remained essential for mystical vision. Pietism however, adds a sexual dimension to merkavah theology, and this emphasis elevates the import of the Beraita. Consider his reformulation of M H. agigah 2:1 in his Sefer ha-Shem.91 Th e Mishnah states that one should not discuss the laws of sexual relations in the presence of three, the account of creation in the presence of two, and the account of the chariot in the presence of one, unless he is wise and understands his knowledge. Th e limitations imposed upon these three disciplines refl ect both their diffi culty and their importance. Generally, kabbalists and historians of Jewish mysticism have identifi ed the account of creation as the mysteries of creation represented in part by Sefer Yetsirah and the account of the chariot as the vision of the supernal throne of God. Th e mystical signifi cance of the arayot (forbidden sexual relations) is more diffi cult to ascertain. Th e arayot are clearly described as secrets in the Talmud. Rashi asserts that they were called secrets because several prohibitions in degrees are not expressly mentioned in the Torah. But once they appeared in this list, it is likely that mystics would have associated the secrets of sexual relations with the two other forbidden subjects of study described in the Mishnah. Hence the arayot, like

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 55 the account of creation and the merkavah, would be a means of understanding the nature of God and the world. Th e order and limitations imposed in M H. agigah would compose a hierarchy of knowledge: the secrets of forbidden sexual relations are the fi rst rung of the ladder that ascends toward perception and communion with God, the second is the account of God’s creation, and the third the vision of God himself as represented by the merkavah.92 Th e mysteries of the arayot represent the fi rst step toward greater understanding of the divinity. It is signifi cant that in hisSefer ha-Shem, Eleazar of Worms reformulates the Mishnah in the following way: “Th e account of the creation may not be expounded on by three, nor the laws pertaining to forbidden sexual relations, and the secret of the name is not revealed to three but to only one or two.”93 Wolfson has observed that Eleazar exchanged the account of the chariot mentioned in the Mishnah for the secret of the name. Th us, the divine name becomes equivalent to the secret of the merkavah.94 It is also noteworthy that Eleazar rearranges the hierarchy of the Mishnah, placing the account of the chariot before the laws of forbidden sexual relations. As the order of the items still seems to imply ascending signifi cance, Eleazar increases the importance of secrets of sexual relations by placing them aft er the secrets of the chariot. Eleazar’s prioritizing of the arayot as one of the chief mysteries points to his elevation of sexuality in theology. Th e conception of the divine that would make menstruation a subject of theological importance for the Pietists, as well as for later generations of mystics, appears in the super-esoteric doctrine known as the Sod ha-Egoz, or the Secret of the Nut. Th is doctrine was the fi rst to explicitly describe male nda female aspects of the Godhead, opening the door for the idea that menstrual impurity is not merely a fact of human biology but is also an element in the divine realm. Th e roots of these beliefs may go back to Hekhalot literature,95 or to another early antecedent, but H. asidei Ashkenaz are the fi rst to record it explicitly. Its exposition and signifi - cance are both consistent with the interest they display in the theological importance of purity and sexuality. 96 Th e Secret of the Nut takes its image from Canticles: “I went down into the garden of nuts,” and in keeping with it, makes the fresh walnut a symbol fi rst for the chariot of Ezekiel and ultimately for a bisexual view of the divine.97 Th e anatomy of the exterior and the interior of the nut corresponds perfectly to the prophet’s vision. Th e fresh walnut has four external shells: a green fuzzy outer coat, a woodlike shell that remains on the dry nut, an interim layer, and

56 · Early Jewish Mysticism a thin sheath that covers the fruit. Th ese correspond to the fi rst four objects witnessed by Ezekiel: the storm wind, a great cloud, a fi re fl aring up, and the color of the electrum. Th e interior of the nutshell is composed of four chambers divided by a soft er membrane. Th ese chambers represent the four living creatures, (h. ayyot ha-qodesh), and the raised center ridge symbolizes the divine throne.98 At fi rst glance, these correspondences hardly suggest an erotic theology. But the nut was already a symbol of earthy sexuality. It had, for example, been infused with sexual symbolism in the blessing for bridal virginity, a prayer not att ested to in the Talmud but acknowledged in the BdN. Th e Halakhot Gedo- lot, the Geonic source of later Ashkenazi versions of the blessing, instructs the groom to say the following prayer aft er consummating the marriage: He who placed the walnut in the Garden of Eden, the lily of the valley, so that no stranger shall have dominion over the sealed spring; thus the loving doe preserved her purity and did not break the law. Blessed are You, Lord, who chooses the descendants of Abraham.99 Th e walnut clearly stands for the bride. “Th e symbolism of the walnut, with its multiple layer of shell guarding the meat, is particularly apt for the virgin bride, whose hymen has guarded her virginity,” Ruth Langer explains.100 Th e Sod ha-Egoz enhanced these sexual meanings and applied them to the divine realm. Th e nut as merkavah becomes an image of the divine described in both masculine and feminine terms. Indeed, the most explicit version of the “secret” describes the nut as comprising fi ve parts: “four are femaleness (niqvut) and one maleness (zkharut). Th ese correspond to the four h. ayyot and one h. ayyah above them.”101 Alexander Altmann translated the literal term maleness as the “membrum virile,”102 yet this explicit reading should not be limited to the male aspect of the divinity. Th e term niqvut, like the masculine zkharut, denotes the female genitals. Th is possibility is further supported by the division of the female aspect of the merkavah into four parts. Since the male has only one penis, it is logical that his sex be symbolized by one part of the nut. Th e association of the female reproductive system with the quadri- partite structure of the nut has similar biological coordinates.103 According to BT Niddah 17b, women have four reproductive organs: “Th e chamber is within, the vestibule is without, the upper chamber is built above them, and a pathway connects the upper chamber and the vestibule.” Another talmudic passage asserts that women have four more parts to their body than men.

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 57 Where a man has 248 parts, a woman has 252 parts “because Scripture adds two hinges and two doors in her case.”104 According to this interpretation of the merkavah, the high ridge would represent the male throne of glory sur- rounded by four supporting female fi gures, the .h ayyot ha-qodesh. Th e “energy” (h. ashmal) that surrounds the divine throne provided the Pietists with an additional source of sexual imagery. Th e term appears in the masculine form, h. ashmal, in Ezekiel 1:4 and 1:27, but in the feminine, h.ashmalah, in 8:2. Pietist exegetes resolved this discrepancy by endowing the “energy” with an additional gender. Th ese male and female energies unite in the Godhead. Eleazar of Worms more frequently interprets the divine throne as female and the image upon the throne as male.105 For example, he demonstrates the bisexual nature of Ezekiel’s merkavah with the shape of Hebrew lett ers. He compares the shape of the seat of glory (kisse) to the very lett er that begins the Hebrew word for seat. Just as the Hebrew lett er kaf k is round with an opening, like a woman, so too the divine throne.106 By contrast, the enthroned fi gure, described as the king melekh( ) is signifi ed by thelamed l, a phallic symbol in the Ashkenazi world.107 Divine enthronement becomes a ceremony of sexual union, in which masculine glory sits on a feminine throne.108 Uniting the male and female aspects of God by contemplation of the divine name becomes the goal of H. asidei Ashkenaz super-esoteric speculation.109 Pietists therefore encountered the female not only on earth but in vision as well.110 For H. asidei Ashkenaz, female sexuality becomes an inherent part of the divine realm. Once an aspect of God is conceived as specifi cally feminine, certain qualities of the human female may come to the fore. Male mystics must deal with their own biology — and women’s, too. Th e bisexual theology of the divine chariot and the purity necessary to att ain mystical vision led to a heightened awareness of the laws of niddah. the practical impact on ashkenazic spirituality

Th is correlation had a profound impact on later expressions of Jewish spirituality such as the Keter Shem Tov, an eclectic mix of mysticism and philosophy writt en by Eleazar’s student Abraham of Cologne.111 In the opening, Abraham explains that a pure soul may ascend to the heavens to have a direct vision of

58 · Early Jewish Mysticism the divine glory. But if the soul “is in the place of her sitt ing” because “she has not been purifi ed of her fl ow, she shall sit alone sadly . . . She must reside outside the camp for the duration of her affl iction.” When “she is purifi ed of her fl ow,” she may return and no longer be forsaken. She may then ascend to the heavens and enter the inner chamber in order to assume her “familiar position” with her husband.112 Belief that the soul, grammatically feminine in both Latin and Hebrew, was female was commonplace in medieval thought.113 She was thought of as the divine element in man and the female counterpart to the male God. Neoplatonists believed that only pure souls could att ain divine unity. Rather than yield a more positive interpretation of the niddah, Abraham of Cologne combines this essentially philosophical understanding with Jewish law and mystical beliefs. Th e feminine soul may not ascend to the heavens because she suff ers specifi cally from the impurity of the woman with an abnormal issue.114 Her impurity not only excludes her from the inner chamber but also bars her from sexual union with her husband. Only when ritually purifi ed may she join her husband in her “familiar” position.115

Th e purity prerequisites for mystical practice in Hekhalot literature emphasize avoiding seminal pollution over menstrual impurity. Yet as we have seen, the BdN and Hekhalot literature express many of the same purity concerns, and by the eleventh century, Italian scholars assumed that Hekhalot literature and the BdN were directly connected. Th eir heirs, the German Pietists, incorporate the strictures of the BdN into their halakhic system when they commit Hekhalot traditions to writing. In order to adapt the Hekhalot traditions to a lifestyle that advocated family life, H. asidei Ashkenaz had to draw from the laws of the BdN. As we have seen, two implicit assumptions govern the laws of the Beraita de Niddah: (1) that menstruants need to be barred from the sancta and (2) that menstruants are possessed by a spirits of impurity.116 Rather than focus on the demonic strand of the BdN, however, these mystics emphasize the need to separate women from the sancta. In order to att ain a mystical vision of the divine chariot, H. asidei Ashkenaz had to avoid menstrual impurity, and by the thirteenth century, the strictures of the BdN had become an essential part of Jewish mystical praxis. Emerging from the charged matrix of the dangers of the niddah posed to the sancta, menstruation was not only a purity concern but also a theological

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 59 one for the H. asidei Ashkenaz, and in response they developed a bisexual understanding of God, articulating both male and female aspects of God and bringing all aspects of human biology come into play. Th ese two elements developed by the H. asidei Ashkenaz — purity for mystical practice and a belief in a feminine aspect of God — appear in heightened form in thirteenth- century Kabbalah, and theosophical kabbalists add a third element derived from the BdN and contemporary medical science. Indeed, some theosophical kabbalists, building upon the two strands of the BdN, would fi nd such cosmic danger in menstruants that the door to any possible women’s engagement in mystical practice would be ever more fully shut as the period’s thought emerged.

60 · Early Jewish Mysticism II Medieval Kabbalah

4 Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis in Th eosophical Kabbalah

Kabbalah emerges in southern France at the end of the twelft h century in response to the challenge of medieval Aristotelianism.1 Provençal rabbis were fi rst introduced to Aristotelian philosophy by Sephardim fl eeing the Almo- had and Almoravid persecutions in the 1140s. Aft er Maimonides’ works reached Provençal shores, introduction gave way to controversy. Traditional scholars who had been accustomed to midrashic modes and the Neopla- tonism embedded in them, were now challenged by what was for them a new, foreign, and inauthentic perception of God. Who was this unmoved mover? Why interpret the anthropomorphisms of the Bible allegorically? In response, they synthesized late-antique and Ashkenazi Jewish mystical traditions, and enlarged upon them to create a type of indigenous Jewish philosophy.2 Isaac the Blind, son of the famous Jewish legist Abraham ben David, wrote kabbalistic commentaries on Sefer Yetsirah and the statutory prayers.3 He shared his teachings with students Ezra and Azriel of Gerona, who along with Jacob ben Sheshet developed the distinctly philosophical form of Geronese Kabbalah.4 Moses ben Nahman, the leader of the Jewish community of Bar- celona, disapproved of these Geronese innovations and insisted that kabbalistic speculation remain traditional and esoteric. He only alludes to kabbalistic secrets in his Torah commentary. Ironically, in so doing, he popularized Kabbalah, alerting the uninitiated to the existence of an esoteric meaning to the Bible and unwitt ingly inviting kabbalists to bring to light that which he had chosen to keep hidden.5 In the last quarter of the thirteenth century, Jewish mystics fl ocked farther south to Castile, where a cultural renaissance sponsored by Alphonso the Wise facilitated what Moshe Idel has called “the fl owering of Kabbalistic symbolism,” culminating in the Zohar.6 Th e Zohar is a pseudepigraphic work att ributed to

63 the second-century Palestinian scholar Shimon bar Yoh. ai, but its origins were actually in late-thirteenth- and early-fourteenth-century Castile. Moses de Leon of Guadalajara was long considered to be the sole author of the Zohar, but recently scholars such as Yehuda Liebes and Ronit Meroz have shown that the work is too multifaceted to be the product of a single person. Th ey suggest that the Zohar is a compilation by a circle of scholars with Moses de Leon at the helm. Indeed, this collaborative eff ort is suggested by the Zohar’s frame narrative — the circle of Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai and his compatriots in the Galilee parallels the mystical circle in Castile/Leon. Members of this esoteric group include many kabbalists known by their independent works: Joseph Gikatilla, Joseph Hamadan, Avner of Burgos, and Joseph Angelet.7 Mystics throughout the fourteenth and fi eenthft centuries collected these traditions until they were ultimately canonized by the printing of the Zohar in Italy in the sixteenth century.8 Many kabbalists were frustrated by the Aristotelian assertion that God is unknowable — an unmoved mover unresponsive to his believers — but nonetheless att racted to the notion of an omnipotent and immutable power. Build- ing upon Jewish tradition and the Neoplatonic philosophy regnant in their day, they described a God that is both” hidden and manifest” in our world.9 God is said to have ten knowable att ributes, known as sefi rot, with one aspect lying beyond the realm of human cognition, the Ain Sof (without end). Th eosophical kabbalists believed that they could learn about the inner processes of the divine realm through the esoteric interpretation of God’s own words. Mystical contemplation of the Torah rather than philosophical speculation of Aristotle’s Metaphysics was their path to God and his cosmos. Moreover, thirteenth-century kabbalists believed that human beings and God enjoyed a reciprocal relationship. Men and women were sustained through God’s benefi cence, but God was invigorated through people’s actions. Proper performance of all the commandments would foster unity in the divine realm, and conversely, sinning could unleash the forces of evil in the sefi rotic realm. Few laws escaped their notice, including the long defunct laws of the Israelite Temple cult. Th e symbols of the Temple cult — priesthood, the Holy of Holies, the throne of the cherubim, sacrifi ce, the chariot of Ezekiel — that had been so central to Hekhalot literature and German Pietism take on even more symbolic importance in twelft h and thirteenth century Kabbalah. Th e priestly authors of the Bible considered the tabernacle and the Holy of Holies in the Solomonic Tem-

64 · Medieval Kabbalah ple to be God’s offi ce on earth.10 Aft er the destruction of the First Temple, Ezekiel envisioned a mobile Temple in the form of a chariot (merkavah) that brought God’s glory into Exile. Hekhalot literature fi xes this Temple in the heavens, and German Pietists make this celestial merkavah the site of their mystical contemplation. Kabbalists enlarge upon these traditions and imagine the att ributes of God that inhere in our world — the sefi rot — as the celestial Temple resting on an angelic merkavah.11 In so doing, certain medieval kabbalists identify the Temple and Temple cult with God. Rather than entering into a physical structure, or a celestial construct, kabbalists imagine that they are entering into God,12 and therefore infi nitely increasing the sacrality, danger, and prerequisites for admitt ance. In his dissertation, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” Seth Brody explains: If the world is a tapestry woven out of the fabric of intersecting Sefi rotic powers, whose innermost structure is mapped in detail through the ordinances and enactments of Torah, then the cult standing at the heart of Sinaitic revelation must embody and manifest the mystery of revelation to the highest degree imaginable. Every aspect of the cult, its rituals, participants and off erings, fi nd its distinctive locus on an elaborate Sefi rotic grid.13 Th e sefi rotic realm is described as the holy Hekhal, the vestibule in front of the Holy of Holies. High priests represent H. esed, the Levites, Gevurah, and the Israelites, Tiferet.14 Shekhinah, the lower female aspect of the Godhead, is symbolized by Jerusalem, the Temple, the outer Hekhal, and the outer altar; Binah, the upper mother, is the inner Hekhal, the inner altar, and the Holy of Holies.15 Th e seven-candled menorah represent the seven lower sefi rot.16 Eze- kiel’s chariot, itself an adaptation of Temple cult rituals fi rst for Babylonian exiles, then for merkavah mystics, and still later for German Pietists, becomes an essential aspect of sefi rotic imagery. Jacob ben Jacob ha-Kohen, Joseph Gikatilla, and Moses de Leon, among others, wrote commentaries of the fi rst chapter of Ezekiel throughout the thirteenth and early fourteenth century.17 Indeed, nearly all the extant kabbalistic commentaries on the fi rst and tenth chapters of Ezekiel date to the second half of the thirteenth century; the authors refer to themselves as H. akhmei ha-merkavah (those who know the wisdom of the merkavah).18 Analysis of the merkavah fi gures prominently in several sections of the Zohar and is the major motif in Tiqqunei Zohar. Some of these analyses build upon the popular image in Bereshit Rabbah that posits

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 65 that the patriarchs are the merkavah.19 Th e sefi rot .H esed, Gevurah, and Tife- ret represent Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who, along with Malkhut (David) represent the four-wheeled merkavah. Other descriptions depict Shekhinah as the divine throne and the patriarchs — sefi rotically symbolized as .esed,H Gevurah, and Tiferet — as the image of the divine glory.20 In addition to superimposing Temple architecture onto the sefi rotic tree, some kabbalists saw themselves as latt er-day priests, who in the absence of a physical Temple contemplate cultic rituals rather than perform actual sacrifi ces at a physical altar. A Catalonian kabbalist enlarged upon the long-established rabbinic substitution of prayer for sacrifi ce, and posited that “the righteous ones, the pious, and those who engage in profound concentration” unite the divine name by grasping hold of the fi re kindled upon the altar of their hearts.”21 Th e kabbalist thus replaces the priest, and kabbalistic prayer replaces cultic ritual in a world without a physical Temple. As Brody explains, “[I]t is the souls and intentions of the offi ciants which are off ered to God.”22 Sacrifi ce serves a dual function: it draws the kabbalist/priest closer to the sefi rot realm and draws the sefi rot in closer harmony with each other. is Th theological understanding is reaffi rmed by language. Sacrifi ce (in Hebrew, qorban) shares a root with qarov (closeness).23 Th e Castilian kabbalist Joseph Gikatilla explains that “you already know that the mystery of sacrifi ce is the proximation (qeruv) of the sefi rot, the ordering of the rungs, and the repair of the channels. Consequently, qorban (sacrifi ce) derives fromqeruv (proximity). If so, prayer stands in the place of sacrifi ces.”24 maintaining purity for mystical praxis

Th irteenth- and early-fourteenth-century kabbalists similarly imbue priestly purity laws with cosmic signifi cance.In the case of the menstruant, however, many kabbalists blur the distinction between cultic restrictions of Leviticus 15 and the sexual prohibitions of Leviticus 18 and 21. Th at is, the purity concerns of the Temple cult are here being merged with the fundamentally separate purity concerns of marital sexuality. Menah. em Recanati, for example, explains that transgressing niddah laws causes a defect in the supernal merkavah.25 Others equate sexual relations with menstruating women with idolatry. Th e Raaya Meheimna (RM), a later stratum of the Zohar, compares a man who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman to Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron who off ered an improper sacrifi ce to God.26 Elsewhere, Gikatilla

66 · Medieval Kabbalah enlarges upon this Temple imagery and compares Shekhinah to the Hekhal, proclaiming that one who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman introduces impurity into this supernal hekhal.27 Th e later Sefer ha-Qanah similarly explains that proper sexual relations will foster divine union, while sexual relations with impure women will introduce impurity into the Hekhal, that is, the Shekhinah. Moreover, the laws of the niddah embrace all other acts of forbidden sexual relations which introduce impurity into the realm of the holy.28 According to the Zohar, sexual relations with a menstruant are one of “three acts that drive the Shekhinah away from the world and prevent the Holy One, blessed be He, from dwelling in the world, so that people cry out and their voice is not heard.”29 Th ese kabbalistic ideas developed out of biblical and rabbinic traditions. Th e close association between God’s indwelling, sexuality, purity, and the Holy of Holies, implicit in the Bible, is enlarged upon in the Talmud. Th e Israelites believed that the God’s indwelling rested upon the throne of the cherubim. Later rabbinic interpreters suggested that when Israel performed divine commandments, the cherubim would turn toward each other — presumably in sexual intercourse — and when Israel sinned, they would turn apart.30 Rab- binic tradition also supposed that when a married couple engaged in licit sexual relations, the Shekhinah rested upon them. Moshe Idel suggests that this parallel between the presence of the Shekhinah on the two cherubim found in a sexual union in the Holy of Holiest on the one hand, and Her dwellings on the pure human pair in sexual content on the other hand, is, in my opinion, conspicuous. It seems as if the religious role of the cherubim, according to some rabbis, has been transferred to human pairs according to others. Th e logic of this transfer seems to be as follows: When the Temple was destroyed, its cultic function was partially preserved by the human sexual activity when performed in purity.31 Kabbalists received and reinterpreted these earlier rabbinic traditions, then wed them to Hekhalot traditions to create (or perhaps vivify) a divine marriage chamber symbolically expressed as the Holy of Holies.32 In so doing, they made the association of purity, Temple cult, and sexuality into a prerequisite for kabbalistic practice. In theosophical Kabbalah, the purity prerequisites for mystical success not only persist, but they increase because the mystic must struggle with impurity in a theurgic universe. Failure to enter the holy Temple, as Shekhinah, in a

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 67 state of ritual impurity is not only dangerous to the individual mystic, as in the case of Hekhalot literature, and to the success of divine contemplation, as in H. asidei Ashkenaz’s Sefer Ha-Shem, but now can wreak havoc upon the cosmos. Th e Children of Israel were ordered to banish all lepers and those with fl ux impurity and corpse impurity from the camp to create a hospitable environment for the tabernacle. Later, priests vigilantly observed purity laws to fulfi l their functions in the Temple, God’s offi ce on earth. Th eosophical kabbalists who wish to cleave to the celestial tabernacle and Temple, or to enter into her holy precincts, must similarly ensure their own purity. Th e Zohar explains that Abraham planted a tree of faith. “Whoever was pure the tree would welcome; whoever was impure it would not.”33 Purity was essential for mystical vision and divine communion among theosophical kabbalists.34 Th e Zohar describes visionaries as the enlightened ones (maskilim) and the Holy Spirit was believed to rest upon them.35 Be- cause neither the Holy Spirit nor the divine presence will approach an adept who is impure,36 he must purify himself of all pollution and sanctify himself in order to att ain a “prophecy.”37 Purity was also a necessary precondition for study because the very act of interpretation and reading the text was a key to divine vision. Elliot Wolfson explains that “interpretatio itself became a moment of revelatio, which in the language of the Zohar, further involves the process of devequt, ‘cleaving to God.’ ”38 Th e intensity of this mystical experience is determined by one’s level of purity.39 According to the Zohar, the patriarch Abraham, the personifi cation of the sefi rah .H esed, “observed the laws of purity and impurity so vigilantly that an impure person could not even approach: immediately Abraham would realize that he was impure and have him undergo immersion (if an ejaculant) or have him wait seven days fi ttingly in his house (if a zav).”40 Abraham ate pure food in a state of ritual purity and refused cakes prepared by menstruating Sarah.41 Abraham and Sarah would purify all human beings “from the aspects of idolatry and from the aspect of defi lement” so that all who approached them were entirely pure.”42 Forms of human defi lement defy the designations of gender in the Zohar, for not only must mystics avoid menstruants, but they are also compared to niddot when spiritually impure.43 For example, the Zohar compares the male and female community of Israel when living under the dominion of sitra ah.ra in Egypt to menstruating women. Th eir symbolic fl ow ceased when they came

68 · Medieval Kabbalah forth from Egypt, but like the zavah and the niddah, they had to wait seven clean days before becoming pure. According to the Zohar’s interpretation of the Exodus story, these seven days become seven weeks, corresponding to the omer, the period between Passover and Pentecost (Lev. 23:15). Th e Israelites were then purifi ed by the dew of the sefi rot and able to receive the Torah.44 Like the example of the aspiring Hekhalot mystic who remained isolated for twelve days, the community of Israel had to observe the cosmic laws of niddah to receive the Torah and unite with Tiferet and Shekhinah,45 and the Zohar concludes that mystics must remain separate from menstruants and avoid the state of niddah themselves. All niddot and those polluted by them are excluded from divine interaction. Th e RM asks, “How is one privileged to see the face of the Shekhinah?” and answers, “When one guards himself from the niddah. Concerning this it is writt en, ‘do not come near a woman during her period of impurity to uncover her nakedness’ (Lev. 18:19).”46 Th is antagonism between menstrual impurity and divine vision is based on the Beraita d’Niddah’s assumption that menstrual impurity is so despised by God that it will drive him away. Th e BdN states, “Come and see how extreme the impurity of the menstruating woman is before the Holy One blessed be He. All who do not protect themselves from her will be affl icted with living leprosy.”47 Elsewhere, God “states” that only men who are vigilant in their observance of niddah laws may approach his name.48 Since in Hekha- lot literature the form of God was oft en identifi ed with his name, the BdN proposes that one can draw closer to the name of God — that is achieve a mystical vision — only through self-purifi cation and observance of menstrual laws.49 In the Zohar, the vision of God is oft en identifi ed with the vision of the Shekhinah. Th us Zohar 2:3a–b explains: Th ere are three who thrust the Shekhinah away from the world, preventing the Holy One from dwelling in the world. Human beings cry out and their voice is not heard. Th ese are: One who lies with a menstruant [the fi rst of the three] — for no defi lement in the world is as potent as that of menstruation. eTh defi lement of menstruation is more severe than any defi lement in the world. He is defi led and all who approach him are defi led along with him. Wherever they go, Shekhinah is repelled by them.50

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 69 Just as menstrual impurity distanced the mystic from God in the BdN, the niddah exiles the Shekhinah from the holy sanctuary and prevents the mystic from achieving his spiritual goals.51 menstruation and theurgy

Mystics are enjoined to understand the cosmic import of their own observance of family purity laws, for in Kabbalah, all liturgical and ritual acts aff ect both the terrestrial and heavenly realms. Proper performance of the commandments promotes divine harmony while their violation promotes cosmic discord. Failure to perform ritual purity laws, therefore, will not only result in an unsuccessful mystical encounter but also empower the forces of the demonic other side. Sanctioned sexual intercourse is a particularly eff ective means of establishing divine union; illicit sexual relations introduces impurity into the Holy of Holies and drive the Shekhinah from her abode. Licit sexual relations performed in purity, by contrast, would not only beckon the Shekhinah and facilitate divine union but also enable the mystic to partake in the divine wedding ceremony as well.52 Indeed, the Zohar explains that “when a man’s wife undergoes days of impurity and he waits for her fi ttingly, supernal cou- pling couples with him all those days, so he is male and female. Once his wife is purifi ed, he should delight her anew — joy of mitsvah, supernal joy.”53 When performed under proper conditions, physical intercourse between husband and wife fosters both divine and mystical union, for the act enables both Tiferet and the male mystic to unite with the Shekhinah.54 Many texts elaborate upon the conditions necessary for a mystically signifi cant sexual encounter.55 Perhaps the most famous primary work devoted to the subject is the Iggeret ha-Qodesh (Th e Holy Lett er), the popular kabbalistic text erroneously ascribed to Nahmanides, which discusses not only the correct thought and time for intercourse, but also physiological concerns, such as the appropriate diet to ensure healthy off spring.56 Th e author justifi es his regimen with a common refrain from Leviticus. In the Holiness Code, God exhorts the children of Israel to avoid sexual abominations in order to become holy. Sexual propriety is understood to be an essential means of imitatio dei: man imitates the creator of all life by creating life through sanctioned sexual reproduction.57 In the Iggeret ha-Qodesh, sexual conduct also becomes a means of “sanctify- ing” or “desecrating” God’s name.58

70 · Medieval Kabbalah Kabbalists also identifi ed God with his name. Each of the four lett ers of the tetragrammaton, YHWH, corresponds to a specifi c sefi rah. Any act that sanctifi es or desecrates the nameof God takes on cosmic signifi cance.59 Il- licit sexual relations violate the name of God on both the sefi rotic and the physical level. Kabbalists believed that the fi rst lett er of the tetragrammaton, yod, was engraved on a boy’s penis during circumcision. Th e name of God thus becomes a partner to any male sexual act.60 Moshe de Leon therefore warns that [o]ne must be constantly vigilant so that he might not sin against his fl esh and wander and place the engraving of God in an evil place. For the individual who inserts the covenant, the mark of God, in another place (maqom ah.er) causes a blemish in that place and deceives the mark of God.61 Consequently, circumcised men must avoid menstruating women, lest they pollute the sign of the earthly and supernal covenant. Th e “holy yod” engraved on the human penis also signifi es the sefi rah Yesod.62 Signifi cantly, Yesod representsboth the Tsaddiq, righteous man, and the divine phallus. Sexual propriety and circumcision are therefore directly related to righteousness. In Sheqel ha-Qodesh, Moses de Leon explains that “anyone who guards the covenant of this place earns the right to be called Tsaddiq.”63 Th e righteous man on earth must guard the seal of the supernal Tsaddiq by observing sexual laws, and observance of purity laws and appropriate sexual behavior become the means of achieving true sanctity.64 Be- cause menstrual laws represent both purity and sexual concerns, their observance becomes a particularly eff ective means toward this end.65 Th e verse “you shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I the Lord am holy” (Lev. 11:44) is directly associated in the Zohar with proper observance of niddah and other sexual laws.66 Indeed, the fi eenth-centuryft kabbalist Natan the Physi- cian specifi cally states that mystics must separate from menstruants in order to emulate God.67 Only those who are like God — sexually righteous, ritually pure, and circumcised — may enter the holy Hekhal. In the Zohar, the uncircumcised are denied divine entry, for the foreskin has become a symbol of all that is other, impure, polluted, and evil. As such, only the circumcised mystic, the earthy incarnation of Yesod, may penetrate the sefi rotic realm.

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 71 the mystery of the entrance to the land

Kabbalists understood the male aspect of Yesod to have its female counterpart in the Shekhinah. Yet while the adept and Yesod share an actual or symbolic phallus that ensures a spiritual connection, the sex of the Shekhinah defi nes her as other.68 Her physiology can facilitate or repel divine vision. Th irteenth-century kabbalists, like German Pietists, oft en described divine vision in terms of the merkavah and its analog the nut.69 In contrast to Ash- kenazi mystics, however, medieval kabbalists build upon Neoplatonic associations between the shell and evil to create a dichotomy between the physical and the spiritual, exoteric and esoteric, profane and holy.70 Catalonian Kabbalist Azriel of Gerona compared the shells (qelippot) to the waste and void that preceded creation (tohu), and described the external shells as an evil barrier to divine access. In a variation on this trope, Castilian kabbalists Moses de Leon and Joseph Gikatilla ascribe the foreskin and female physiology to the qelippot.71 In his commentary on the fi rst chapter of Ezekiel’s vision, Moses de Leon uses the image of the nut as merkavah as a prototype for kabbalistic vision.72 In order for either Ezekiel or the contemporary kabbalist to reach the fruit (i.e., the supernal merkavah), he must fi rst pass through the four external shells of the walnut, corresponding to the fi rst four objects seen by Ezekiel: (1) the storm wind, (2) a great fi re fl aring up, (3) a brightness about it, (4) the color of the electrum (1:4). Th e prophet Ezekiel was not completely successful in his initial att empt to pierce through the outer shell. De Leon explains that the defective spelling of the Hebrew word va-ere (“and I looked”) in verse 1:4 signifi es that Ezekiel’s vision is also defective (the lett er heh is missing from the common conjugation patt ern of the verb). Th e prophet was only able to see the mystery of the external qelippah, described, in feminine terms, as “the Mystery of the Entrance to the Land.” Because Ezekiel “saw her, he could not have a complete vision and prophecy.”73 Th e feminine pronoun “her” refers to the external qelippah and the entrance to the land. Th e term “land” alludes to the Land of Israel, a symbol of the Shekhinah, the feminine att ribute of God.74 In other words, de Leon equates the Shekhinah with the external qelippah — an extremely negative image. Th e Hebrew term used by de Leon, mavo, commonly denotes an entrance or an introduction. Th e Shekhinah, the last of the ten emanated att ributes of the Godhead, functions as an entry between the divine and the human realm.

72 · Medieval Kabbalah Because she alone provides access to the sefi rot, the Shekhinah is the means through which the adept may achieve his vision.75 When referring to anatomy, the word takes on the similar meanings of “meatus,” “introitus,” or an “inlet.” As noted, in rabbinic literature, women’s bodies were oft en compared to houses; the “door” into a woman’s body usually meant the vagina.76 Th e entrance to the supernal land may thus refer to the vagina of the Shekhinah.77 Th e entry point to God, like the entry point for sexual ecstasy, is symbolized by female anatomy. Indeed, entry into the Land of Israel was related to sexual activity in Geronese and Castilian Kabbalah in two diff erent ways. Th e sexual union of Tiferet and Shekhinah was oft en described as the act of inheriting the Land of Israel. Just as the Children of Israel could “inherit” the land only when they had been circumcised at the Jordan (Joshua 6), mystics could “enter” the divine feminine only when circumcised. Th ey could then unite with the She- khinah and achieve a vision of the supernal sefi rot.78 In the “Mystery of the Entrance to the Land,” however, it is not the status of the male mystic that inhibits vision but the purity status of the Shekhinah herself that acts as a qelippah, blocking access to the divine.79 Kabbalists believed that like the human female, the Shekhinah menstruates. When in a state of niddah, she must remain “outside” the heavenly realm and may therefore be compared to the external shell.80 Just as a human niddah may wrest a man from a heavenly vision, the supernal menstruant may pollute the adept and prevent accession to true prophecy. Ezekiel’s prophecy was thwarted because his fi rst sight was the polluting image of a menstruating Shekhinah.81 Th e lett er heh, missing in the beginning of the prophecy, represents the fl ight of the holy aspects of God during “the period of her menstruation.” Just as a husband separates from his menstruating wife, God separates from the menstruating Shekhinah. And just as menstrual impurity can preclude mystical success, the Shekhinah’s menstrual impurity can impede mystical entry. Joseph Gikatilla similarly ascribes Ezekiel’s incomplete vision to the She- khinah’s purity status. However, in keeping with his enduring interest in the divine names, he focuses on the symbolic absence of the lett er heh in va-era. Like de Leon, he emphasizes the defective spelling of “and I saw” to signify the prophet’s incomplete vision. In Ezekiel 1:1, the prophet sees a full vision of God — signifi ed by the grammatically correct term ve-ereh with a heh. His incomplete vision of the northern storm wind is underscored by the absence of the heh in va-era. Th e fi nal aleph represents the Shekhinah, the speculum

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 73 that does not shine. She functions as a veil (parokhet) that divides the visionaries from their visions. Th ough she had resided within the holy Hekhal, illuminated by the effl uxes of Yesod, she now lives in exile, under the dominion of the demonic other side who polluted her with the forces of impurity.82 A later strata of the Zohar, printed as Zohar H. adash, describes the sefi rotic impact of the Shekhinah’s impurity. 83 In Zoharic Kabbalah, the lett ers of the tetragrammaton, yod, heh, vav, heh, correspond to specifi c sefi rot. e Th sefi rah H. okhmah is yod; Binah, the upper heh; Tiferet (beauty), the vav; and the Shekhinah, the lower heh.84 Proper observance of certain commandments would unite these lett ers and facilitate vision of the name of God.85 Th e defective spelling of the verb va-ereh signals to us that the vision was incomplete. Ezekiel’s vision was incomplete because the Shekhinah was niddah. Her impurity caused the upper heh of Binah to fl ee pollution. Since only three lett ers remained, Ezekiel could not successfully unify the name of the tetragrammaton, precluding the possibility of complete vision.86 Th e pure Shekhinah is the mystical portal; the menstruating Shekhinah, the barrier. Th e aspiring mystic must avoid both the terrestrial and the supernal menstruant in order to achieve divine vision. But as in the case of H. asidei Ashkenaz, purity requirements refl ect theological considerations. Ritual purity must be addressed not only on earth but in the heavens as well.

74 · Medieval Kabbalah 5 Th e Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah

As the “Mystery of the Entrance to the Land” makes clear, kabbalists conceived of menstruation as both a terrestrial and a supernal force that must be avoided in order to have a successful mystical encounter. Kabbalists saw the sefi rotic realm as an organism whose processes refl ect our own. e Th divine body, like the human body, eats food and expels waste. Primordial man, like terrestrial man, may become impure. It is striking, however, that of the many forms of impurity at its disposal, the male circle of the Zohar so frequently mentions the uniquely female impurity of niddah. In fact, thirteenth-century kabbalists believed that the Shekhinah, the feminine aspect of the divine male, menstruates. Although kabbalists derived their understanding of the Shekhi- nah’s cycle from female biology and rabbinic halakhah, they posit the reverse. For kabbalists, the fl ow of the supernal woman became the archetype for human experience; conversely, female biology was understood to be a refl ection of a cosmic reality. the roots of the symbol

Kabbalists were not the fi rst to conceive of an aspect of God as menstruating. Gershom Scholem suggests the gnostic myth of Sophia as one source for the symbol of the Shekhinah.1 In his treatise Against Heresies, Irenaeus, bishop of Lyons (120–202), describes how one gnostic sect conceived the fall of Sophia in terms that refl ect the biological functions of the human female. According to Irenaeus, Sophia, “having engaged in an impossible and impractical at- tempt” to unify with the One, “brought forth an amorphous substance, such as her female nature was able to produce.” Th is inviable substance, described as matt er devoid of the male form, was the cosmic equivalent of menstrual blood, the result of an unfertilized ovum. Although Sophia was eventually

75 reconciled with the Father, this substance remained and could pollute the spiritual realm.2 Th is sect also transferred the gospel story of the woman with a fl ux to the divine realm. Th e woman is no longer a mortal affl icted with an issue of blood but rather a heavenly aeon suff ering from a loss of power.3 Early Jewish sources, too, interpret menstruation as a divine process. Con- sider, for example, the interpretation of the verse, “the mandrakes give forth fragrance, and at our gate are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved” (Song of Songs 7:14) in BT Eruvin 21b. According to Rava, each phrase in the verse has a unique referent. “Th e mandrakes who give forth fragrance” refer to Jewish men who are unspoiled by sin, and “the precious fruits” at the gates refer either to “the daughters of Israel who tell their husbands about their doors” or to those “who close their doors for their husbands.” Th e fi nal phrases in the verse, “new and old, which I have laid up for thee, O my beloved,” is spoken by Knesset Yisrael, a female being who represents the Community of Israel. Given the erotic intention of the verse, the phrase “precious fruits” likely refers to sexual pleasure. Th ese delights lie at a wife’s gate or door, a euphemism for her vagina. Th e possibility of entry turns on women’s purity status. During their menstrual fl ow, the pious daughters of Israel either tell their husbands about the state of their “doors” or they close their “doors” to their husbands.4 Th e phrase “precious fruits at the gates” refers to the possibility of sexual pleasure with ritually pure women. At the end of the verse, Knesset Yisrael, the rabbinic prototype for the kabbalistic Shekhinah, explains that she, too, has off ered both “new and old” fruits to her “beloved.” Th ese “fruits” were traditionally interpreted as laws performed by the Knesset Yisrael for her “beloved,” God; the old fruits refer to biblical law and the new fruits to talmudic law. Moshe Idel off ers a diff erent interpretation, proposing that Knesset Yisrael’s “old and new fruit” be understood within the context of the discussion of menstrual laws.5 According to the priestly purity code, the menstruant is impure for only seven days, aft er which she is deemed pure. Th e zavah alone must wait seven additional days aft er the cessation of her fl ow to sacrifi ce a sin offering and be deemed pure.6 Only later, in the Talmud, did “the pious daughters of Israel” incur the obligation to wait an additional seven days aft er the cessation of their menstrual fl o .w 7 In BT Eruvin, Knesset Yisrael explains that she, like the pious daughters of Israel, off ers her husband both the old and the new laws: the levitical niddah laws and the extra-biblical purity requirements imposed in the Talmud.

76 · Medieval Kabbalah Knesset Yisrael would then presumably wait an additional seven days aft er her menstrual fl ow before engaging in sexual relations with God. By the thirteenth century, the symbol of the menstruant had become a very powerful element of the Zoharic understanding of the cosmos. Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai, the hero of the Zohar, disclosed the mystical signifi cance of menstruation to his disciples alone.8 Subsequent generations did not de- serve to receive this esoteric knowledge, and those privy were afraid to share the mystery with anyone unworthy of it.

the shekhinah as menstruant in kabbalah

In the Kabbalah, where the two sexes and their relations on earth are but counterparts to the divine world, the mythic possibilities of the Talmud become actualized and the functions of the human female appear in the feminine aspect of God. Th e Shekhinah engages in sexual relations and may become pregnant; she also menstruates. Just as menstruation suspends sexual relations on earth, the Shekhinah’s menstruation interrupts divine union. She may resume relations with the sefi rot of Tiferet or Yesod only aft er immersion. Th irteenth-century kabbalists identifi ed the purity requirements of women with those of the Shekhinah to such an extent that they supposed the cycle of the supernal female determined halakhah. Th e circle of the Zohar used the symbol of the menstruating Shekhinah in its exegesis and adjusted the length or frequency of her menses to correspond to and prove its interpretations and practices. For example, certain texts describe the Shekhinah as having a weekly cycle: during the week, the supernal female menstruates and is therefore niddah, banned, from her husband, the sefi rah of Tiferet or Yesod. When her fl ow ends on Friday, she may purify herself and resume relations with the male aspects of God on the Sabbath. Th is divine union served as a model for mystical praxis. Mystics were ex- horted to have relations on Friday nights alone, while other married couples were permitt ed to engage in sexual relations throughout the two weeks of the month the wife is considered ritually pure.9 Another Zoharic text associates the Shekhinah’s cycle with the omer in order to give cosmic signifi cance tothis seven-week period between Passover and Pentecost (Lev. 23:15). Israel, that is to say, the Shekhinah, was represented as a niddah during the captivity in Egypt, a country oft en interpreted as the sitra ah.ra.10 Her fl ow ended as soon as she was freed from the impure

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 77 power. Yet like the zavah and the niddah, she had to wait seven clean days before she could resume relations with her spouse. According to the Zohar’s interpretation of the Exodus story, these seven days become seven weeks, corresponding to the omer. At the end of that period, the Shekhinah was purifi ed by the living waters of Binah.11 She could then adorn herself and resume relations with the King, the sefi rah of Tiferet.12 In Sefer ha-Rimmon, Moses de Leon describes the union of Shekhinah and Tiferet on Shavuot in astrological terms. Th ough emancipated from Egypt, the Shekhinah, here designated as the moon, needed to wait until Pentecost to become full and thus a fi tting sexual partner for the Sun (Tiferet).13 Th e Shekhinah as moon is one of the most common symbolic associations in the Zohar, an association that grew out of the kabbalists’ close identifi cation of the divine and human female.14 Th e four phases of the moon — new, waxing, full, waning — represent birth, burgeoning life, fullness, and death. Th e full moon represents the most fertile period, ovulation, while the fourth phase corresponds to menstruation. To this correspondence, observed by many cultures, ritual purity laws add a layer of special signifi cance to Jews.15 As noted, husbands and wives separate for at least twelve days, leaving approximately fi eenft days of the monthly cycle for marital relations. Th is division perfectly matches the waxing and waning of the moon. Many medieval Ash- kenazi sources observed that “just as a moon waxes for half a month and wanes for half a month, so the woman is close to her husband for half a month and lonely in her impurity for half a month. And as the moon is accessible at night, so is the woman, as it is writt en, ‘in the evening, she would come (Es- ther 2:14).’ ”16 Th is association is the basis for the belief that the fi rst day of the new lunar month (Rosh H.odesh) is a holiday meant specifi cally for women.17 Kabbalists adapted these earlier beliefs to create their own lunar symbolism.18 Like terrestrial women, the Shekhinah, the supernal moon, has a twenty- eight-day cycle that coincides with the lunar month.19 Clearly, they came to this description by observing biological experience. But the kabbalists’ understanding of it reverses the equation. Th ey see the biological and ritual requirements of terrestrial women as being mere visible manifestations of the supernal experience. Th e divine realm causes, and when understood explains, the material realm. As such, the kabbalistic understanding of the Shekhinah’s cycle is adduced as the rationale for the observance of the laws of the menstruating woman.

78 · Medieval Kabbalah Joseph Hamadan, the kabbalist who provides some of the most sexually explicit interpretations of the inner workings of the divine realm, off ers an extensive example of this reasoning in his Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot (Book of Rationales for the Commandments).20 Hamadan begins his discussion of the commandment to refrain from sexual relations with menstruating women by citing the biblical proscriptions and several rabbinic incentives for observing the laws of niddah. Th en, disclosing part of the cosmic mystery of the law, he observes that the ultimate purpose of Temple sacrifi ce is to unite the bride- groom Tiferet with his bride the Shekhinah when she is “full.” But the supernal woman, like her human counterpart, is not always “full.” Th ere is a time when she is “whole” and may unite with the King, and a time when she is “blemished” and may not receive the effl ux of the sefi rah Tiferet. Hamadan expatiates, using the example of the sun and the moon. Like man, the lower sun, Tiferet, the supernal sun, is always whole because he never menstruates. Th e moon, by contrast, is defective. Like women, she waxes and wanes each month.21 Hamadan derives her cycle not from the human condition, but rather from a creation myth. In Genesis 1:16, God is said to have created “two great lights.” Th e end of the verse, however, refers to a “great light to rule the day” and a “lesser light to rule the night.” How did the power of one of the “great lights” become diminished at the end of the verse? Th e Talmud provides an answer and Kabbalah elaborates. Th e moon was diminished as punishment for her hubris. Initially, the sun and the moon were equally brilliant. Not content with parity, the moon asked God if it were “possible for two kings to wear one crown.” Angered by her presumption, God retorted, “Go then and make thy- self smaller.” She was humbled and forced to rely on the sun for her light.22 Th e Shekhinah’s condition corresponds to this event. Hamadan ties the defect in the lower moon to a stain in the supernal one. Th e term used for stain (ketem) is the legal term for blood spots that could render a woman impure. Accordingly, the moon is “stained” precisely when the Shekhinah is impure; one may ascertain the Shekhinah’s condition by the phase of the moon. Eve’s sin and “curse” are a later refl ection of a cosmic event. Where earlier authors saw a parallel between the waxing and waning of the moon and the pure and impure states of women, Hamadan found a basis in it for the law. Th e Shekhinah is purifi ed and whole at the beginning of the full moon. She may then engage in marital relations with her husband, Tiferet.23

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 79 Th is intimacy may last for precisely fi eenft days.24 When her fl ow begins, she must separate until she can immerse herself in the ritual bath. Kabbalists also see the conditions of the Shekhinah’s immersion refl ected in the terms of the human law. According to Jewish law, terrestrial women must bathe in a ritual bath fi lled with forty seahs of water that meets certain requirements. Spring water, rain water, and melted snow may be used to fi ll the miqveh.25 Th is water may not be drawn. “Pure” water that has been collected in any type of receptacle is considered drawn and would render the ritual bath invalid.26 Special pipes are att ached to the exterior of the miqveh to conduct water to a main pool. Because these channels are structurally connected to the building, they are not considered separate containers but a part of the bath itself.27 Th is water may then be channeled to satellite baths. Insuffi cient or misappropriated water, of great halakhic concern, becomes a divine concern in Hamadan. Th e conveyance of undrawn purifi catory waters to the miqveh refl ects the emanative processes within the sefi rotic realm. Divine energy fl ows from the upper to the lower sefi rot through channels or pipes. Th ese energies meet at Yesod and are fi ltered down to Shekhinah. Yesod acts as a supernal ritual bath, purifying the Shekhinah with his supernal effl uxes. Like undrawn water that fi lls a ritual bath, these fl owing emanations fi ll and purify the Shekhinah. 28 Th ere is an overt sexual dimension to this analogy, for Yesod also represents the divine phallus.29 Hamadan enlarges upon this analogy and compares the method of conveying water to the ritual bath to ejaculation. Like the penis, the sefi rotic channels and miqvehpipes convey purifi catory water to Yesod, who, in turn, purifi es the Shekhinah with his sperm-like effl ux.30 Simi- larly, terrestrial woman is fi rst ritually cleansed by the miqveh water and then is further purifi ed by the sign of the covenant, her husband’s circumcised penis.31 Th e issue of both the supernal channel and the earthly channel must be like undrawn water. And if valid water is like a husband’s semen, foreign or drawn water will represent extramarital relations. Should this “water” be contaminated or come from some other source, the “immersion” would not be legitimate. On earth, this would point to a wife’s promiscuity; in the heavens, the Shekhinah would remain impure and come under the dominion of the demonic sitra ah.ra.32 Th e quantity of water is no less important than its quality. Just as a miqveh must contain forty seah of undrawn water to purify terrestrial women, Yesod

80 · Medieval Kabbalah must emit forty seahs of effl ux to purify the Shekhinah.33 Th is measure determined the number of days that Moses remained on Mount Sinai. He waited on the mountain for forty days to learn the mystery inherent in each effl ux.34 When the Shekhinah was eventually fi lled by Tiferet, she gave birth to the Torah. Th is “child” of Tiferet and Shekhinah weighed forty seahs. Th e She- khinah then gave her off spring to Moses in the form of two, twenty-seah tab- lets as a gift for Israel. Th e writt en Torah may therefore be compared to a valid miqveh,35 empowered to purify both men and women of their sins by their immersion in study. Joseph Hamadan, more than any other medieval kabbalist, richly elabo- rated the analogy of biological function and ritual observance. Th e menstrual cycle of the Shekhinah determined the auspicious times for supernal union. When niddah, she was banned from her husband. She could resume conjugal relations only when purifi ed. Th e fl ow of the supernal woman became the archetype for human experience. Th ese ideas inspired the works of the fourteenth-century kabbalist Menah. em Recanati and later the anonymous Sefer ha-Qanah.36 isolating the menstruating shekhinah

Th irteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalists not only drew from female biology to determine the menstrual cycle of the Shekhinah, but also derived the manner of separating the Shekhinah from her divine husband from human law — specifi cally, from rejected customs and from the Beraita d’Niddah. For example, according to the Raaya Meheimna (RM) a later stratum of the Zohar, the menstruating Shekhinah must isolate herself in a house of forbidden women (bet assurot).37 Such a dwelling recalls the reference to a house for impure women (bet ha-temeot) found in a manuscript variant of Mishnah 7:4.38 Th ere is no halakhic or archeological evidence for a talmudic practice of physically separating menstruating women from the community, such as one fi nds, for example, in Zoroastrian culture or among Ethiopian Jews.39 Indeed, Rabbi Aqiva specifi cally limits the isolationof the menstruant, describing her as a gemulda, that is to say gemul da mi-baalah, isolated from her husband and not from the community at large.40 Th e standard version of the Mishnah describes a “beit ha-tumot,” a house of impurities, that would function as a storehouse for items that had contracted impurity.41 Th e mishnaic reference to a bet ha-temeot likely derives from a utopian desire to separate all polluted

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 81 people from the community of the holy, or it may arise from an orthographic error.42 Th is variant reading, however, was known to Rashi, and consequently, both he and Nahmanides believed that the practice of separating menstruants was historical.43 Th e author of the RM probably based his own understanding of niddah practices on Nahmanides’ tradition and must have believed that menstruants had inhabited houses of impurity in the mishnaic period. He may have found his authority in this custom and banished the menstruating Shekhinah to the forbidden house, reasoning that if menstrual impurity was not acceptable to the earthly community of Israel, it would certainly be barred from the divine realm. Other separations take the form of restrictions in practice rather than actual physical removal. For example, some rabbis denied menstruants all forms of adornment so that they might suff er during their fl ow and discourage sexual advances.44 Rabbi Aqiva, by contrast, permitt ed niddot to wear makeup and jewelry lest they disgust their husbands.45 Most rabbinic Jews adhered to Rabbi Aqiva’s decision, but the earlier prohibition was codifi ed in the BdN.46 Observing the strictures of the BdN, German Pietists and early kabbalists had forbidden menstruants to adorn themselves.47 Now, thirteenth- and fourteenth- century kabbalists transferred this ritual practice to the divine realm and denied the menstruating Shekhinah all forms of ornamentation. Th e Shekhinah might adorn herself only aft er she was purifi ed by the supernal ritual bath in preparation for divine union.48 Unatt ractive clothing was another means of diminishing sexual att rac- tiveness. While the Talmud nowhere requires menstruants to wear diff erent clothes, the Geonic Halakhot Gedolot att ests to the custom, and Sefer Miqtsoot specifi cally forbids menstruants to wear nice clothes.49 Later, in twelft h- century Ashkenaz, several works of the Rashi school enlarge upon this prohibition and require menstruants to wear unatt ractive clothing during their fl ow in order to discourage their husbands’ advances. eyTh may resume their normal mode of dress aft er purifi cation.50 Th e Shekhinah must also wear diff erent clothes when menstruating. Ac- cording to Joseph Hamadan, the Shekhinah always dresses extremely mod- estly, exposing only her eyes.51 Nonetheless, she commands an extensive ward- robe of many colors — white, light blue (tekhelet), red, black, ink, green, and a mixture of white and light blue — which she wears to att ract her husband Tiferet. When “blemished,” she wears other clothes and does not adorn herself.52 She may resume wearing her att ractive clothing when purifi ed.

82 · Medieval Kabbalah Th e force of this prohibition is apparent in the surprise the RM registers when it was violated. Th e author of this later stratum of the Zohar explains that the sacrifi ce of the second paschal lamb was instituted to enable those who were impure during Passover to fulfi ll their sacrifi cial obligation a month later.53 Yet how could the Shekhinah, the recipient of the sacrifi ce, remain decorated and in divine service for an entire month? Wouldn’t her menstrual cycle interfere with this capacity? Th e answer may be found in a lenient interpretation of human law. Th e author of Shaarei Teshuvah permits brides to wear jewelry for the full month aft er their wedding. Th e divine bride, the Shekhinah, like the human bride, may remain decorated for a full thirty days during Passover.54 Th e Shekhinah’s clothing not only refl ctse her menstrual status; it also discloses the force and nature of the effl ux she receives.55 When under the infl uence of judgment she wears its color,red, and is described as a blood- fi lled vessel of evil.56 Th is description coincides with BT Shabbat 152a, where woman is said to be “a vessel fi lled with excrement and her mouth is fi lled with blood, yet all run aft er her.” Because the term “mouth” commonly refers to the vagina, the phrase probably denotes a menstruating woman.57 When the Shekhinah is fi lled with the powers of excess judgment, she becomes “blood fi lled” and must menstruate. Herpurity status is manifest in her red clothing. Representations of the Shekhinah as menstruating are therefore not only biological or halakhic analogies to the terrestrial female, but also descriptions of her moral change within the sefi rotic realm. Th e Shekhinah actually becomes a force of evil with the onset of her fl ow. isTh metamorphosis is the subject of my next chapter.

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 83 6 Th e Ontic Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah

Th e correspondence between the terrestrial and the supernal menstruant is not merely biological. It also has a moral dimension. When pure, the Shekhi- nah promotes divine unity. When impure, she becomes a force of evil that must be banned, literally niddah, from the divine realm. Th at kabbalists understood that an aspect of the divine realm as evil was a response to a religious need — to explain the existence of evil in our world. However, that kabbalists constructed the myth of the menstruating Shekhinah out of largely periph- eral traditions that demonized impurity — traditions in which the divine female would ontically change into an evil force by means of a quotidian female biological cycle — had dire consequences for women’s spirituality. For if the Shekhinah could suddenly change like “a revolving sword” from good to evil, it is inconceivable that terrestrial women could ever att ain or sustain the purity necessary for divine union. Th e menstruating Shekhinah thus became a means of justifying women’s exclusion from divine pursuits. impurity in the sefirotic realm

In the prophetic literature, impurity is used as metaphor for evil and sin. Im- purity represents evil; purity, good. Kabbalists, however, did not rest with this essentially descriptive image. Rather, they took the image of impurity to a new level by infusing it with ontological status. Whereas in the Bible, Jerusa- lem may be compared to a menstruant because the city’s inhabitants are polluted by sin,1 in Kabbalah, Jerusalem, representing the Shekhinah, actually becomes a niddah. Th e metaphor becomes a myth.2 Th is shift may be att ributed in part to the kabbalists’ dissatisfaction with the philosophical approach to the problem of evil. Believers in one benevolent God are perennially confronted with the existence of evil in the world.

84 How could the ultimate Good “make peace and create evil?”3 Th e answers of kabbalists and neoplatonists were diametrically opposed. While philosophers rejected the reality of evil, Castilian kabbalists embraced it. Neoplatonists argued that as the fi nal element in the chain of being, evil did not really exist: it was completely divorced from the divine realm. By contrast, the kabbalists employed the neoplatonic approach to a diff erent end. Evil became an essential element within the emanative process of divine att ributes known as the sefi rot. Early kabbalists based their understanding of evil on the prophetic verse, “from the north shall evil break loose” (Jer. 1:14). Th at the evil, in the form of the Babylonian enemy, came from the north was a historical fact; the kabbalistic innovation lay in equating this evil with an aspect of God. Kabbalists believed that the Godhead was composed of ten knowable att ributes and one, the Ain Sof, which lay beyond human cognition. Begin- ning with the earliest kabbalistic treatise, the Sefer ha-Bahir, we see evil located in the sefi rah ofPah .ad (fear; Gevurah, or Judgment, in later Kabbalah).4 Th e kabbalistic perception of evil was enhanced through the symbolism of impurity. As early as the twelft h century, the Provençal kabbalist Isaac the Blind (1165–1235) had equated impurity with evil. He explained that “all things that come from the left side of God are dominated by impurity, as it is said, ‘from the north shall evil break loose’ ” (Jer. 1:14).5 Later, when Castilian kabbalists developed the notion of an independent realm of evil known as the sitra ah.ra (the other side), they enlarged upon the association between evil and impurity. Th e Zohar asserts that “just as there are levels and palaces on the side of holiness, so also on the side of impurity.”6 Th e sitra ah. ra became the side of impurity (sitra masava) that mirrors the holy sefi rotic realm. In- deed, the Zohar identifi ed impurity and evil to such an extent that it uses the terms sitra masava and sitra ah. ra interchangeably. Kabbalists do not only consign impurity to the realm of Judgment or the sitra ah. ra. As we have seen, Jewish law stipulated that one could become impure not only by means of one’s actual physical condition but also through proximity to a polluting source. Impurities were therefore graded according to degree. Th e highest grade of impurity, known as “the father of the fathers of impurity,” was corpse impurity and was followed by the nine remaining fathers: creeping things, carrion, semen, the waters of purifi cation, sin off erings, the zavah, the niddah, the zav, and those subject to scale disease. Exposure to these fathers of impurity results in impurity to the fi rst degree; exposure to a fi rst-grade impurity results in impurity to the second degree and so through

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 85 the third- and the fourth-grade impurities. Th e Geronese scholar Jacob ben Sheshet transposed this purity system to the heavenly realm. In his Sefer ha- Emunah ve-ha-Bitah.on, he explains that just as impurities are graded according to degree in rabbinic literature, impurities are assigned diff erent grades in the sefi rotic realm. eTh sixth sefi rah, Gevurah, is the locus of the father of the fathers of impurity, corpse impurity; the fi hft sefi rah, Tiferet, the fathers of impurity; the fourth, Netsah. , impurity in the fi rst degree, and so on to the fi nal sefi rah, Shekhinah, which is home to impurity in the fourth degree. Th e seventh sefi rah, .H esed (Lovingkindness), represents the supernal ritual bath that will purify all the lower sefi rot in the messianic age. 7 Th e sefi rot could suff er from impurity because the sefi rotic world was viewed as an organic whole with functions that mirrored our own. Indeed, the entire sefi rotic tree could also be described as the limbs of primordial man (Adam Qadmon).8 As such, the diff erent limbs could carry out assorted functions that would engender waste and pollution. Th e Godhead, therefore, like the body, must purge itself of refuse to maintain homeostasis.9 Th e perception of the Godhead as an organism needing to rid itself of pollution to maintain existence may have some affi nities to the so-called grotesque genre of literature epitomized in the works of Rabelais. Mikhail Bakhtin explained that the grotesque body “is cosmic and universal” in so far as the emphasis on bodily orifi ces and excretion underscores its limitless nature. Bakhtin att ributes the development of the grotesque to “cosmic terror.” Th is fear is not, he says, mystic in the strict sense of the word; rather it is the fear of that which is materially huge and cannot be overcome with force. . . . Th e struggle against cosmic terror in all its forms and manifestations did not rely on abstract hope or on eternal spirit, but on the material principle in man himself. Man assimilated the cosmic elements: earth, water, air and fi re; he discovered them and became vividly conscious of them in his own body. He became aware of the cosmos within himself.10 Th is perception of the universe may have been very appealing to kabbalists when dealing with an issue as ominous as evil. Bodily waste and impurity became evil reifi ed. Reducing aspects of God to human terms made evil less terrifying. Indeed, the waste of primordial man was conceived as a means of exuding evil.11 Th e most common sources of evil in the sefi rotic realm — the att ributes Binah, Gevurah, and Shekhinah — are consequently oft en described

86 · Medieval Kabbalah as eliminating waste.12 When Gevurah is understood to be the locus of evil, the sefi rah is fi lled to overfl owing with impure powers. eTh fi res of Gevurah must separate holy judgment from these polluted forces. Th is refi ning process results in an overabundance of unnecessary and wasteful power akin to excrement. Since Judgment was oft en described as gold, evil was compared to the dross and fi lth engendered during the purifi cation of this precious metal. In other instances, waste matt er is depicted in bodily images, such as the “lett ing of bad blood” or “foul waters fl owing from the waste of semen from which Primordial Man was made.” When the Shekhinah undergoes catharsis, kabbalists off er a more explicit analogy to human biology. Like the terrestrial woman, the Shekhinah must purge herself of unnecessary blood and menstruate. Several kabbalists com- bined this organic analogy with an existing belief in the nefarious power of impurity to make of menstruation an example of reifi ed evil. Kabbalistic mythology incorporates female biology, and in the sefi rotic realm, unmitigated Judgment and the sitra ah. ra, not the pituitary, occasion the Shekhinah’s fl ow.

Th e Dual Nature of the Shekhinah Kabbalists believed that the Shekhinah possessed both good and evil qualities.13 Gershom Scholem locates the source of her dual nature in the Bible: kabbalists endowed the Shekhinah with the contrasting qualities of divine wisdom and “riotous woman folly” of Proverbs 9:13ff .14 Another source for the duality is the Talmud. Israelites believed that God dwelt fi rst in the Taber- nacle and then later in the Holy of Holies.15 According to BT Yoma 69b, the Shekhinah did not reside alone; the evil inclination, the root of lasciviousness and idolatry, lived in the adytum with her. Aft er their return from Babylonia, the Jewish community undertook to expel the grammatically “male” evil inclination from the Holy of Holies by means of communal prayer and fasting. Th eir leader ordered his followers to exorcise that particular demon in the same way that the “female wickedness” had been expelled in Zechariah 5:8. Accordingly, they cast the evil inclination into a leaden pot and sealed the opening with lead “because lead absorbs the voice, as it is said: ‘that is wickedness; and thrusting her down into the tub, he [Zechariah] pressed the leaden weight into its mouth.’ ”16 Th is identifi cation of the male evil inclination with the female “wickedness” contributed to a belief in the evil nature of the Shekhinah.17

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 87 Islamic qisas literature (tales of the biblical prophets) may also att est to this belief. Th e Arabic term sakina, etymologically related to the Hebrew Shekhinah, diff ers in meaning according to context. In a Muslim context, the Arabic term connotes “calm, peace, safety, security, and tranquility”; when these Islamic qisas refer to a Jewish context, however, the term sakina connotes black magic and demons.18 While this distinction may simply refl ect religious polemic, it may also be based in contemporary Jewish belief. For example, al-Th alabi explains that when Abraham and Ishmael prepared the foundation of the sanctuary, “the sakina wound itself upon the original foundation as if it were a serpent, saying: ‘Build upon me, O Abraham!’ ”19 Brinner relates the image of the sakina as a “serpent that winds itself” to the Levia- than, the twisting serpent described in Isaiah.20 Such identifi cation of the Shekhinah, who dwells in the place of the sanctuary, with the Leviathan or twisting serpent is consistent with a belief in the dual nature of the aspect of God that inhabits the sanctuary in BT Yoma 69b. Kabbalistic representations of the Shekhinah’s dual nature enlarge upon mythic possibilities in the earlier sources. Th e Shekhinah receives the effl uxes of the higher sefi rot and disperses them to the world below.21 When under the infl uence of these benevolent forces, the Shekhinah is fi lled with divine powers and bestows blessings upon the world. When she comes under the infl uence of harsh Judgment or the sitra ah. ra, however, she becomes evil and serves as a conduit for their punitive powers. Hence the Shekhinah is described as good or evil, permitt ed or forbidden,22 leavened or unleavened,23 bride or concubine, male or female. Her dual nature is made to correspond to her cycle: as a purifi ed bride, the Shekhinah becomes an image of good; as an impure menstruant, the Shekhinah becomes a symbol of evil.24

Menstruation as Evil Women were associated with the left side of God and believed to originate within the sefi rah of Judgment.25 (Women’s monthly fl ow of blood was easily compared to the overfl ow of the red powers of Judgment, the source of evil in the sefi rotic realm.) For example, Zohar 3:54a identifi es the niddah with re- strained Judgment, and the zavah, whose fl ow is excessive, with unmitigated Judgment.26 In her dynamic nature the Shekhinah is oft en compared to a revolving sword, turning from good to evil, mercy to judgment, peace to war.27

88 · Medieval Kabbalah When this sword is “fi lled with blood” (Isa. 34:6), that is to say, fi lled with the red effl uxes of unmitigated Judgment, the Shekhinah becomes evil.28 Castilian kabbalists, who oft en entertained a dualistic vision of evil, point to the sitra ah. ra, rather than to Judgment, as the cause of the menstrual fl ow. For example, the fourteenth-century kabbalist Joseph Angelet claims that the side of the spirits of impurity fi lls the “revolving sword” with blood.29 His use of the term “spirits of impurity” to identify the sitra ah. ra reveals a kabbalistic belief, rooted in rabbinic and Zoroastrian thought, in the close relationship among menstrual blood, impurity, and the demonic realm.

Th e Source of Impurity: Th e Serpent Who Instills Filth Genesis states that God struck Eve with painful labor as a punishment for allowing herself to be infl uenced by the serpent; it makes no mention of menstruation.30 Passages in BT Eruvin and Avot d’Rabbi Natan, however, enlarge upon the scriptural punishment and claim that menstruation was the fi rst of ten curses with which God punished women for Eve’s sin.31 It is also possible to understand the serpent, rather than God, as the author of menstruation. According to several passages in the Talmud and midrash, the serpent “instilled his fi lth zohama( )” in Eve while persuading her to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Because serpents are oft en construed as phallic images, many exegetes have deciphered the act of “instilling” as sexual intercourse.32 “Filth” could therefore refer either to seminal pollution or to a desire for illicit sexual relations.33 But the fi lth that the serpent instilled in Eve may also refer to menstruation, since the term zohama is used in the Talmud with reference to menstrual blood.34 Finally, some rabbis may have derived a connection between “foul menstrual blood” and serpents from contemporary Zoroastrian dualism.35 Purity was a central concern in the practice and mythology of this dualistic Iranian religion. Maintaining physical purity strengthened the forces of the benevolent deity Mazda, while impurity aroused the evil god Ahriman. As human forms of pollution were believed to take on great importance in the cosmic batt le between good and evil, Zoroastrians scrupulously observed menstrual laws as a means of averting the forces of Ahriman.36 Babylonian rabbis knew Zoroastrian menstrual terms and taboos. For example, according to BT Taanit 22a, a jailor in a Persian town who was familiar

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 89 with Zoroastrian purity laws protected a betrothed Jewish girl from rape by pouring wine lees on her skirts and calling her a distana, Middle Persian for menstruant. Presumably, Zoroastrian rapists would be deterred by menstrual impurity.37 Beruriah’s sister similarly identifi ed herself as a distana to deter would-be clients when trapped in a brothel.38 Samuel Secunda suggests that the term distana may have been a common Aramaic term in Sassanian Persia used, like the Hebrew phrase “ki temeah ani” (I am impure to you), to deter undesired sexual advances.39 Zoroastrian menstrual terms may have infl uenced Jewish practice. Rav Ashi, for example, claimed the term distana for Jewish practice, att empting to prove its Hebrew origin by its resemblance to the biblical locution, “the way of woman is upon me.”40 Moreover, the term appears in the Talmud in one of only two explicitly disparaging characterizations of menstruants: women are advised to identify themselves as Persian distana rather than as Hebrew niddah to deter the sexual advances of snakes41 — an association that suggests the rabbis were acquainted not only with the Zoroastrian impurity laws but also with the Zoroastrian menstrual myth. According to Zoroastrian cosmogony, the female power Geh (literally, “whore”),42 “the personifi cation of the impurity of menstruation,” tried to strengthen the weakened evil god Ahriman during his cosmic batt le with the benevolent deity Ahura Mazda. Aft er two failed att empts, she managed to arouse the evil deity by professing a plan to wage war on Ahura Mazda and the world. Th ese words “delighted” the “evil spirit” and he “kissed Geh upon the head, and the pollution that became menstruation became apparent in Geh.”43 In another version of the myth, the spirit of menstruation went on to become Ahriman’s demon whore and chief of all “whore demons.” Her explicit mission was to “defi le females; and thefemales, because they were defi led, might defi le the males, and [the ales]m would turn aside from their proper work.” She was “the most grievous adversary of the Righteous Man.”44 According to some midrashim, the serpent, identifi ed with Satan, instills impurity into Eve just as Ahriman makes menstruation apparent in Geh.45 Menstruation is neither the creation of a benevolent God nor a divine punishment; rather, it is ab initio the product of evil. Th ese mythological underpinnings of menstruation, rarely mentioned in the Talmud, appear prominently in Kabbalah. Just as the terrestrial serpent instills fi lth in Eve, the fi lthy primordial serpent instills menstrual impurity in the Shekhinah.46 For example, Isaac of Acre explains that “the evil inclination

90 · Medieval Kabbalah is the primordial serpent who cast his fi lth upon the woman [Shekhinah] and this is the blood of menstruation.”47 In the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai formulates a dualistic version of this idea. He explains that when the Shekhi- nah is weakened by the sins of the world, she cannot protect herself from evil.48 Samael, the leader of the forces of impurity, is then drawn to her innate qualities of Judgment and impurity, and instills in her the polluting powers of the sitra ah. ra in the form of menstrual blood.49 She is then declared impure and is considered an unfi t mate for the pure supernal male. eTh menstruating Shekhinah remains att ractive to Samael, and, in keeping with a basic rule of Zoharic magic whereby elements are drawn to their own kind,50 she becomes his concubine.51 She att racts the spirits of impurity and becomes a source of danger to all who approach her.52 Th e Shekhinah may then be called Lilith, the demon consort of Samael, and compared to a concubine (pilegesh), maidservant (shifh .ah), or harlot (zonah).53 Just as the Zoroastrian Geh becomes the “demon whore” of Ahriman, the Shekhinah becomes Samael’s impure concubine. It is impossible to conclusively prove any direct Zoroastrian infl uence on kabbalists. Given their predilection for mythological interpretations, they may have independently enlarged upon the Talmudic story of the serpent instilling his fi lth into Eve to create the image of the Shekhinah as impure concubine. However, some medieval Jewish halakhists were certainly aware of Zoroastrian menstrual laws. Maimonides, for example, explains that among the “remnants of the Magians,” the menstruating woman “remains isolated in her house; the places upon which she treads are burnt; whoever speaks with her becomes impure; and if a wind that blows passes over a menstruating woman and a clean individual, the latt er becomes impure.”54 Moshe Idel has suggested that ninth-century French Jews entertained a belief in the evil thought of the deity that was adapted from Zoroastrian myth,55 and in the thirteenth century, kabbalists may also have been infl uenced by Joseph Ha- madan, a member of the literary circle that created the Zohar, who may have been acquainted with Zoroastrianism.56 In Hebrew, Joseph is named R. Yosef ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah (Rabbi Joseph who came from Susa the Capitol). Susa was an Iranian city, popularized in the Book of Esther, that came to be known as Hamadan in the Middle Ages. Shlomo Pines suggests that Joseph’s “appellation was not gratuitous, that it meant to point to some kind of connection between him and Susa; he may have been a native of that city or have sojourned in it.” Following this line of thought, Joseph may have become

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 91 acquainted with Zoroastrianism while in Hamadan and later transmitt ed its precepts to the Circle of the Zohar in Castile.57

Th e Shekhinah as Impure Concubine Th irteenth-century kabbalists framed the notion of relations between the Shekhinah and Yesod or Tiferet in terms of biblical descriptions of the relationship between God and Israel, who when faithful is a loving wife and when unfaithful is an adulteress.58 Th e conjugal images of terrestrial Israel were eventually applied to supernal Israel, the Shekhinah, and used to describe her dual nature. Some kabbalists add purity status to the myth. When pure, the Shekhinah is the divine consort of Yesod or Tiferet; when impure, she att racts the powers of impurity and becomes a polluting concubine.59 Moses de Leon confl ates purity status and marital status in hisMishkan Edut, where he explains that wisdom and her enemy, the alien woman (Prov- erbs 7:3–4), are one in the Shekhinah.60 Her nature turns upon her purity status. When pure, the Shekhinah is wisdom; when menstruating, she is the “alien woman.”61 Th e male (Tiferet) and female (Shekhinah), who are usually united, separate only when “her adulteries are between her breasts” (Hos. 2:4), that is, when she menstruates. For when niddah, the Shekhinah is banned by her true spouse, att racts the att ention of Samael, and becomes “his woman.” Th is sexual union is considered “impure as menstrual impurity” because the Shekhinah behaves “like a harlot who abandons her ancestral guide”62 and has gone “astray in her own evil works.”63 Menstrual blood, like a chemical reagent, eff ects an ontic change in the Shekhinah, and she enters into a new combination.

Th e Possession of the Menstruating Shekhinah Other kabbalists believed that the menstruating Shekhinah did not actually change into an evil adulteress at the onset of her fl ow, but rather was dis- placed by an evil maidservant. Ecclesiastes 5:8 literally reads “a king controls a fi eld that is cultivated” melekh( le-sadeh neevad). Th e Zohar suggests an alternate interpretation by which the Hebrew neevad modifi es the king rather than the fi eld.64 According to this reading, “the king becomes subject to the fi eld.” eTh king represents the pure Shekhinah (malkhut), who fears the Lord, like the woman in Proverbs 31:30. Th e fi eld represents her impure

92 · Medieval Kabbalah mirror image, the strange woman of Proverbs 7:5. Th us the mystical sense of Ecclesiastes teaches that when impure, the Shekhinah becomes subject to this alien woman and is then plunged into darkness, and “the handmaid becomes heir to her mistress” (Prov. 30:23). She may only regain her rightful position in the supernal realm upon purifi cation. Th e RM similarly fi nds the menstruating Shekhinah and the evil maidservant in Proverbs 30:23.65 Th e mistress is the Shekhinah; the handmaid, an evil maidservant.66 When the Shekhinah menstruates, the text explains, her holy aspect, the good inclination, represented by the lett er heh, wanders away.67 No longer the unblemished mistress, she becomes possessed by the impure handmaiden. Th e exegete gives his interpretation levitical authority by adducing the quotation “like a plague in the house” and relating the “plague,” originally a reference to leprosy, to “the impure blood of menstruation.”68 Th e menstrual plague enters the “house,” a commonplace euphemism for the female reproductive organs, and transforms the Shekhinah from pure bride to evil maidservant. Th e Shekhinah can become purifi ed and be restored to her original state only when she, like a house infected with leprosy, is purged of all impure elements. Purifi cation from the menstrual fl ow is thus the only means of exorcising the evil maidservant. Th e RM also relates the image of the handmaid heir to her mistress to lunar symbolism.69 Th e Shekhinah as moon is considered good when she is full and pure, and bad when she is incomplete and impure. Th ese external states refl ect internal changes. When the moon is full, she is able to join with the third patriarch, Tiferet, and with the Righteous One (Tsaddiq), Yesod. When she is in darkness, however, she becomes possessed by the maidservant. Th e handmaid usurps the good aspect of her lady and exiles her to a prison under the dominion of Samael.70

Menstruation as Exile Th e nonsequential concurrent explanations of the menstruating Shekhinah by the maidservant or concubine also become a means of explaining the popular myth of the exile of the Shekhinah. According to Talmudic legend, the Shekhinah accompanied the community of Israel into exile. In the Kabbalah, this myth is transferred to the sefi rotic realm, and the Shekhinah herself is exiled from the other divine sefi rot.71 Tishby describes four diff erent versions of her exile: (1) the Shekhinah, like a concerned mother, goes into exile to

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 93 protect her children; (2) God sends the Shekhinah into exile to protect her children; (3) God sends the Shekhinah into exile as a form of punishment; (4) the Shekhinah goes into exile when dominated by the forces of the “other side.”72 Some kabbalists assimilate this latt er formulation into the conceit of the menstruating Shekhinah. When the Shekhinah is niddah, her holy aspect departs, and she becomes evil. She is banned from the divine sefi rot and must remain in exile. In his “Mystery of the Exile of the Shekhinah,” Joseph Angelet explains that the Shekhinah goes into exile when she is forced to separate from her husband and “nurse” exclusively from the att ribute of unmitigated Judgment.73 Th is sefi rotic representation appears in rabbinic literature among discussions of the ten types of impurity in man and the ten degrees of holiness in the land of Israel.74 Th e land of Israel represents the Shekhinah; the ten degrees of holiness, the divine sefi rot; and the ten impurities, the side of impurity. eTh land of Israel, that is, the Shekhinah, may be revealed when she is able to receive effl uxes from the ten sefi rot, the ten degrees of holiness. When she becomes polluted by the forces of the side of impurity, however, she is exiled and an evil maidservant assumes her position. Th is close association between exile and menstruation bore directly on halakhic practice. In the Zohar, men are warned against violating the laws of niddah lest they bring about the exile of the Shekhinah.75 In Leviticus, God warns Israel not to commit sexual transgressions lest they defi le the land (Lev. 18:25). Kabbalists interpret this verse as referring not merely to the terrestrial land of Israel but to the supernal land as well. Sexual relations with menstruating women on earth have the theurgic power to pollute the Shekhinah. Once polluted, the Shekhinah is niddah, banned from the holy sefi rot, resulting in her exile.76

Th e Secret of the Serpent In his “Secret of the Serpent” (Sod ha-Nah.ash), Joseph Gikatilla off ers a dif- ferent spin on the opposition between impure menstrual blood and the holy Hekhal. He argues that menstrual laws are a theurgic means to maintain boundaries between the polluted serpent and the sefi rotic realm, and as such they serve a positive function.77 Gikatilla believed that everything in the world, including evil, has a purpose.78 “Th ere is no evil that does not contain some good . . . there is nothing evil in its proper place.” Harmony will

94 · Medieval Kabbalah prevail as long as the boundaries between good and evil are maintained. If barriers break down and “the externals enter the internal, or the internals [enter] the externals,” however, then “all orders will be corrupted.”79 For Gi- katilla, observing menstrual separation is an essential means of maintaining temporal boundaries.80 Women are forbidden for approximately twelve days a month. Trespass over this temporal restriction violates the boundaries between the pure and impure realms and enables the serpent to enter the divine sanctuary.81 Female impurity, like the impurity of the fi rst fruits, is time-bound. eTh term for fi rst fruits (orlah) derives from the same root as the term for foreskin (orlah). According to Eilberg-Schwartz, this suggests that both immature fruits and the penis must wait a requisite amount of time and be “pruned” in order to be sanctifi ed and productive.82 Leviticus Rabbah extends this analogy to the menstruant: “Th ree years it shall be forbidden for you” (Lev. 19:23), aft er which is writ- ten, “You shall not eat anything with its blood” (Lev. 19:26). Now what connection is there between this text and that? Th e Holy One, blessed be He, in eff ect says to Israel: “You wait three years in the case of forbidden fruit, yet you do not wait for your wife to observe the period of her impurity.”83 According to Leviticus, a niddah is biblically forbidden for the fi rst seven days, orlah for the fi rst three years. Aft er the established waiting period, however, both are permitt ed and their use is blessed.84 Gikatilla gives cosmic signifi cance to this analogy. Women, like the serpent, are benefi cial as long as they respect their boundaries; while the serpent is bound by place, women are bound by time. Sexual relations during the period of purity are a blessed act because they foster divine and mystical union. Sexual relations during impurity are illicit because the act breaks the barriers between the holy and the impure in the cosmos.85 Menstrual laws are therefore necessary to maintain the proper boundaries between the pure and the impure, good and evil.86 Gikatilla’s analysis of menstruation foreshadows Mary Douglas’s now classic anthropological treatment of Leviticus in Purity and Danger. Douglas describes purity laws as a means of imposing order on a chaotic world. She believes that “dirt is essentially disorder” and that societies construct purity laws to impose order on “untidy experience.”87 Purity rituals, however, are not universal:

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 95 Th e power in the universe is ultimately hitched to society, since so many changes of fortune are set off by persons in one kind of social position or another. But there are dangers to be reckoned with, which persons may set off knowingly or unknowingly, which are not part of the psyche, and which are not to be bought or learned by initiation and training. Th ese are pollution powers which inhere in the structure of ideas itself and which punish a symbolic breaking of that which should be joined or joining of that which should be separate. It follows from this that pollution is a type of danger which is not likely to occur except where the lines of structure cosmic or social are clearly defi ned.88

Maintaining proper boundaries between purity and impurity thus not only refl ects but also maintains the socialorder. Douglas suggests that the Is- raelites’ belief in the impurity of bodily issue refl ects their political situation. “Th e threatened boundaries of their body politic,” she writes, “would be well mirrored in their care for the integrity, unity, and purity of the physical body.”89 Th is understanding, which Douglas has since refi ned, applies to the position of Jews in medieval Castile. To be sure, Castilian Jews benefi edtt from a cultural renaissance in thirteenth-century Castile. Alfonso the Wise fostered the intellectual environment that facilitated Gikatilla’s spiritual expression. However, the king also needed to create a cohesive state out of disparate communities with longstanding regional diff erences. Christianity became the means of uniting people with diff erent customs and dialects. Re- inforcing boundaries between Christians and all others was an essential part of what Flory has called Alfonso’s “devotional statecraft .” 90 His Siete Partidas (1265) required that Jews wear distinctive clothing, in an eff ort to forestall miscegenation between Jews and Christians; Jews responded by reinforcing boundaries between Jews and Christians, pure and impure.91 the sex of the menstruating shekhinah

Up to this point, I have argued that the Shekhinah’s menstrual fl ow occasions a profound change in her state of being. Some representations of the Shekhi- nah, however, suggest that her fl ow brings about no essential change in a nature that is fundamentally sinister. Rather, it is when the Shekhinah is not menstruating that she changes — from female to male.92

96 · Medieval Kabbalah Th e Zohar oft en describes the benevolent Shekhinah in male terms or as as a grammatical masculine.93 She is the “angel that is sometimes male and sometimes female. When it bestows blessing upon the world it is male and it is called male like a man who bestows blessings upon a woman. When it stands in Judgment upon the world it is called female.”94 Moreover, Elliot Wolfson has shown that some kabbalists not only make the female male, they also make the male female: positively perceived female biological functions, such as pregnancy and nursing, become functions of the male. For example, Binah, considered the supernal mother of the seven lower sefi rot, and Shekhi- nah, the lower mother, are denoted by masculine pronouns or described in phallic terms when lactating or pregnant; parturition and lactation are compared to ejaculation.95 Because medieval kabbalists perceived the menstrual cycle as evil, menstruation is the one female process that remains securely feminine. Indeed, when menstruating, the supernal woman separates from her male counterpart with no possibility of divine union. In his Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, Joseph Hamadan provides several other examples of the Shekhinah’s versatile gender. In a discussion of the need to send the impure out of the camp of the Shekhinah, he explains: when the Shekhinah rests upon the Temple, he is the supernal Glory (Kavod), and there is no need for impurity in the face of the power of impurity that enters [the sanctuary] because it is not in his [the Shekhinah’s] nature to rest within their four cubits.96 When the Shekhinah is completely pure, she becomes a he.97 When the She- khinah is “blemished,” however, she remains a she. Th e menstruating Shekhi- nah is consistently of feminine gender in Hamadan’s rationale for not engaging in sexual relations with menstruants.98 In his Sefer Tashaq, he alters the gender of the Shekhinah according to her purity status: “When she is blemished,99 she wears diff erent clothes . . . she does not adorn herself or wear jewelry before the Holy One blessed be He, as when he is whole.”100 Th e Zohar likewise compares the purifi ed Shekhinah to a masculine king.101

Th irteenth-century kabbalists conceived the Shekhinah as living the life of a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that turns, like a revolving sword, according to her purity status. In the next chapter, we turn to the impact of this mythology on scientifi c and religious att itudes toward women.

Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 97 7 Th e Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law

Medieval kabbalists derived some aspects of their understanding of menstruation from contemporary science. Medieval physicians and natural philosophers used ancient Greek philosophy to justify women’s physical inferiority. Certain thirteenth-century kabbalists adapted these ideas to prove Jewish women’s spiritual inferiority. Th ese mystical ideas fi ltered into sermons and ethical literature to the detriment of medieval Jewish women. Science and faith were inextricably intertwined in the Middle Ages.1 Cler- ics would att end to both spiritual and physical needs because the need to care for the body coincided with the need to care for the soul.2 Until the rise of universities in the twelft h century, monasteries were the centers of scientifi c knowledge, and even aft er the professionalization of medicine in the thirteenth century, Christian physicians continued to look to the Bible, in addition to their license, as the source of their authority.3 Indeed, many Christian physicians who received medical degrees went on to pursue higher degrees in theology.4 It is not surprising that several Christian theologians used medical theories in the service of theology.5 Th is nexus between science and faith was not limited to Christianity. Al- though Jews were excluded from universities, some aspiring physicians studied medicine unoffi cially with members of the medical faculty while others studied privately.6 Just as many Christian physicians were theologians, many Jewish doctors were also rabbis who could employ scientifi c theories in support of theological and legal arguments.7 In fact, Kabbalah emerges contem- poraneously with the rediscovery of Galen and Aristotle in the Latin West, and some thirteenth-century kabbalists endeavored to discern divine secrets with the aid of the “new” Greek knowledge. Th ere is, however, no such thing as knowledge in the abstract. Michel Fou- cault has taught us that no knowledge exists outside the confi nes of a given

98 cultural context. And medieval culture was patriarchal. Th us, when a misogynist theology is wedded to scientifi c theories that justify female inferiority, the results are devastating. Th e kabbalistic understanding of the laws of the menstruating woman is a prime example of this failed marriage. In Leviticus, menstruants were deemed ritually impure for cultic practice (15:19) and prohibited to their husbands in a catalog of forbidden sexual relations (20:18). Aft er the destruction of the Temple, sexual relations with menstruants continued to be forbidden on the basis of Leviticus 20:18. Isaac the Blind (1165– 1235), one of the fi rst kabbalists in Provence, and Nahmanides (1194–1270), the leader of the Jewish community in Barcelona, both used medieval natural philosophy and science in the service of kabbalistic theology to explain the mystical secret inherent in this prohibition. Isaac the Blind adopted a Galenic model of menstruation to locate the menstruating woman within the sefi rah of Judgment, the locus of evil in the sefi rotic realm. Nahmanides, by contrast, used, with far more devastating results, an Aristotelian model in which medieval medicine, natural philosophy, and Kabbalah reinforce one another to create an image of the menstruating woman as the human incarnation of the demonic other side (sitra ah.ra). Th e restrictive laws of the Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) were the only means to forestall her dangers.

isaac the blind and the origin of menstrual blood

Th e Mishnah identifi es fi ve diff erent types of impure menstrual blood. Th ese fl ow from the “room” or “fountain” maqor( ), terms traditionally used for the uterus.8 In one of the earliest kabbalistic discussions of gynecology, Isaac the Blind refi nes this anatomical description by defi ning the term maqor as the left section of the uterus. According to this reading, impure menstrual blood fl ows not from the entire womb but rather from the left section alone. Isaac explains that only sinister blood is impure because “all things which come from the left , the side of stern Judgment, are governed by impurity, as it is writt en, ‘from the North shall evil break loose’ ” (Jer. 1:14).9 Th e menstrual fl ow is the material manifestation of the powers of stern Judgment; its red hue refl ects the fi ery color of its source. Isaac the Blind’s theology of menstruation demonstrates an intersection of kabbalistic theosophy, medicine, and natural philosophy governed by ancient Greek science and philosophy. Th e low esteem in which women were held in

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 99 ancient Greece expressed itself in contemporary gynecology in a dichotomy of left and right.10 In his article “On the Pre-eminence of the Right Hand,” Robert Hertz explains that dualism was essential to the social organization of developing societies. “On the one side, there is the pole of strength, good, and life, while on the other there is the pole of weakness and evil . . . All oppo- sitions presented by nature [including the opposition of male and female] exhibit this fundamental dualism.”11 A dichotomy between the right and left sides of the body was a natural outgrowth of this worldview. Th e right represented everything sacred, strong, and male, while the left represented the profane, weak, and female.12 Th is assumption was implicit in Greek culture and became the basis of Hellenistic medical conceptions of sexual diff erentiation.13 For example, the Hippocratic Superfetation explains that the right and left testicles emit semen independently. Semen emitt ed from the left testicle engenders females, and semen from the right, males. Other Hippocratic writings suppose that sex is determined by the placement of the seed in the uterus. If seed is placed on the left side of the uterus, the child will be female; if placed on the right, male.14 Later, Galen supplies physiological justifi cation for Hippocrates’ understanding of sexual diff erentiation. Hippocrates assumed that the human womb, like the wombs of other mammals, contained two or more pockets. Aristotle compared the womb to testicles and concluded that the uterus must also be made up of two parts.15 Galen believed that the chambers of the uterus correspond to the number of teats. Since women have two breasts, the human uterus has two distinct cavities, a right and a left .16 Th e right side of the uterus receives cleansed blood from the large blood vessels, the vena cava and the “artery from the great artery,” while the left side of the uterus receives bloods that “do not start from the great vessels themselves, but from the vessels passing through the kidneys.” Galen explains that the left testis in the male and the left uterus in the female receive blood still uncleansed, full of residues, watery and serous, and so it happens that the temperaments of the instruments themselves that receive the blood become diff erent. For just as full blood is warmer than blood full of residues, so, too, the instruments on the right side, nourished with pure blood, become warmer than those on the left .17 Th e sex of the child is determined by the conditions in which the seed grows. If a seed from the right testicle grows on the right chamber of the uterus, the

100 · Medieval Kabbalah embryo will be nourished by warm blood and become male; if the seed from the left testicle is implanted in the cold and wet left section, the embryo will become female. Qualitative diff erences between men and women therefore begin in utero. Males are engendered from superior material, in warm and dry conditions, on the highly valued right side of the uterus, while women are created from residue in the cold and wet left . Women’s inferiority is justifi ed “biologically.” Th ese Hippocratic and Galenic ideas on sexual diff erentiation are absent in the Talmud.18 Rather, the rabbis present an understanding of sexual diff erentiation more akin to Democritus’ and Aristotle’s. Many ancient physicians believed that both men and women possess generative seed that combines to create a fetus. Male seed is semen, while female seed is either menstrual blood or the vaginal fl uid emitt ed during sexual arousal.19 Democritus asserts that sex is determined by which of these seeds prevails in the uterus aft er sexual intercourse.20 Aristotle maintains Democritus’ essentially “combative model” of sexual diff erentiation, yet denies the existence of generative female seed.21 Semen alone generates the form of the fetus, while menstrual blood merely provides the material. Aristotle compares this process to making cheese: just as rennet curdles milk to create cheese, male seed creates the child out of female matt er. Rather than att ribute sexual diff erentiation to the interaction of two types of seed, Aristotle att ributes it to the kind of nourishment available to the child in utero. Semen, being form, will strengthen the fetus and create a male, while menstrual blood, being material, provides nourishment suffi cient only to create a female. Gender depends upon which type of nourishment prevails. “If the male semen gains mastery, it brings [the material menstrual blood] over to itself,” engendering a male. “If it [semen] gets mastered, it changes over either into its opposite [a female] or else into extinction.”22 Th e Talmud explains that if a woman emits her seed fi rst, the child will be male, while if the male emits his seed fi rst, the child will be a female. Although the rabbis cite a biblical proof text as their source, they seem to present a simpli- fi ed version of the theories of Democritus and Aristotle. When the fi rst emission of seed is overshadowed by the second, the second sex prevails.23 Isaac the Blind uses this biological theory to interpret theosophical mysteries. Sefer Yetsirah (Book of Creation), for example, classifi es the Hebrew let- ters aleph, mem, and shin as the “three mothers of the alphabet.” God seals the male with the combination emesh (çma) and the female with ashem (μça). Commentators undertook to explain why the male is identifi ed with the

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 101 combination aleph, mem, shin and the female with the aleph, shin, mem — that is to say, why the inversion of the lett ers should determine a change in gender. Isaac the Blind fi nds his answer in the talmudic theory of sexual diff erentiation. Just as a woman’s seed is the fi rst component emitt ed in the production of a male child, the female element esh (fi re), associated with the lett er shin, is the fi rst element in the creation of a male, producing the termashem .24 Just as a man’s seed is the fi rst component emitt ed in the production of a female child, the male element, mayim, associated with the lett er mem, is the fi rst element in the creation of a female, producing the term emesh.25 Isaac the Blind off ers another interpretation of the rabbinic theory of sexual diff erentiation to justify the purity laws of the parturient. He compares the struggle between the male and female seeds in the uterus to the confl ict between Judgment and H. esed in the sefi rotic realm. When a woman emits her impure red seed fi rst, the pure, white, male seed will prevail. White will prevail over red, right over left , H. esed over Judgment, and a male child will be born. Because purity triumphs, the parturient remains impure for only seven days. When a man’s pure white seed comes under the domination of impure, red, female seed, red will prevail over white, impurity over purity, Judgment over H. esed, and a female child will be born. Th e parturient will remain under the infl uence of the dominant impure forces for fourteen days.26 Th e Talmud was not Isaac the Blind’s only source of medical knowledge. He also drew upon contemporary scientifi c theory. Th ough not a physician himself, Isaac the Blind lived near one of the greatest centers of medical learning in medieval Europe, the College of Montpelier. Although Jews were offi - cially forbidden to matriculate, many Jews studied with members of the faculty independently. Moreover, his father, Abraham ben David, had writt en Baalei ha-Nefesh, a guide to proper sexual behavior infl uenced by contemporary Christian att itudes toward sexuality.27 It is likely that Isaac was familiar with popular medical ideas. Greek medicine remained infl uential long aft er the ancient period. Aft er the fall of the Roman empire, Syrian Christians began to translate Greek medical texts and the Septuagint into Aramean. Expelled by the Byzantine Church, Nestorian Christians from Syria found refuge in Iran, where they quickly built a school and a hospital. Th e Muslims who captured Persia in 636 appreciated the Nestorian eff ort and encouraged translation of Syriac medical works into Arabic. Galen exerted greater infl uence on Arabic medicine than Hippocrates, Soranus, or Aristotle.28 His gynecological theories were systematically codifi ed

102 · Medieval Kabbalah in Arabic medical treatises and later transmitt ed to medieval Europe by means of Latin translations.29 Constantine the African was the fi rst to introduce Ga- lenic gynecology to the Latin West in his Pantegni, a translation of al Majusi’s Al Kunnas al Maliki.30 By the twelft h century, Galenic gynecology was the standard in medical education, and the opposition between the right and left chambers of the uterus became established in the medieval scientifi c imagination.31 Since a number of the translators were Jewish (the most notable being the Provençal physician, Moses ben Samuel ibn Tibbon), Jewish physicians were certainly familiar with Galen’s bicameral theory of the uterus.32 Indeed, we have manuscript evidence that at least three gynecological texts, including Sefer ha-Em shel Galynus (Galen’s Book on the Womb) were available in Hebrew as early as 1199.33 Th e opposition between right and left became so prevalent in Jewish medicine that Maimonides, who had ridiculed Hippocrates’ and Ga- len’s belief that sexual diff erentiation depends on the right or left origin of generative forces, conceded that “male fetuses, in most cases, are conceived by a woman on the right side [of the uterus], whereas the female [fetus is conceived] on the left side. Th e reverse of this situation only happens exceptionally.”34 Just as Isaac the Blind used talmudic medicine to support his theosophical exegesis, he adapted medieval gynecological theories to fi t his kabbalistic needs. Isaac’s student, Ezra of Gerona, followed suit. In his commentary on the commandments, he explains: Another matt er that you need to know is that fi ve things are impure because their coloration tends toward red — but that which tends toward white is pure. Th e H. akhamim were experts, profi cient in recognizing whether its hues (resulting from vaginal discharge) were from the source (maqor), and thus presumed to be from the left side — this is the blood that comes from the chamber (h. eder) and the upper chamber (aliyah)35 — or whether they tended toward white, and are thus presumed to be of the right side, and thus pure.36 Th e sages of the Mishnah described vaginal blood as ranging in color from black to red to yellow. Ezra of Gerona is blind to these distinctions, and considers all vaginal discharge the fi ery product of the left .

Th e dichotomy between right and left is ubiquitous in Kabbalah.37 Th e left was denominated feminine, impure, and evil, while the right was denominated male, pure, and good. Th e Galenic theory of the bicameral uterus off ers

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 103 biological evidence for this kabbalistic precept. Isaac the Blind fuses Galen’s anatomical theory with talmudic tradition and restricts the rabbinic defi nition of the term maqor, the source of impure menstrual blood, to the left section of the uterus. Th e sinister sefi rah of Judgment, like the left chamber of the uterus, becomes the repository of uncleansed, impure blood that contributes to the engenderment of female children. Just as the fl awed medical theory that women are produced on the left side of the uterus supports philosophical conceptions of female inferiority, the belief that women and menstrual blood originate in the left chamber of the uterus supports the kabbalistic belief in the evil nature of the niddah. nahmanides

Like Isaac the Blind, the medieval polymath Nahmanides (1194–1270), incorporates contemporary gynecological theories into his understanding of the nature of menstruants. In his commentary on the levitical interdiction against approaching menstruants, Nahmanides explains that God permits man to engage in sexual relations for procreative purposes alone. A fetus can be created only out of pure female blood. Menstruating women cannot contribute to the material creation of a fetus because their blood is impure.38 Indeed, “how could menstrual blood create a fetus when it is itself a deadly poison that can kill any living being who drinks or eats it?”39 Any fetus that actually eats menstrual poison will die; any trace of menstrual blood in the uterus will infl ict either leprosy or boils. Th e Torah therefore forbids sexual relations with menstruating women because they cannot engender healthy off spring.40 Nahmanides then shift s the emphasis of his commentary from the “medical risks” of menstrual blood to the dangers of the niddah herself. Nahman- ides reports that a menstruant who gazes into a ferrous mirror at the beginning of her fl ow will cause red drops, like drops of blood, to appear on the metal. “For the harmful and evil nature of the issue produces an odor and this foul air att aches to the mirror just as a basilisk kills with its gaze.” Th is evil infl uence may infect a man just as it does a mirror and contaminate his mind and body. Nahmanides reads this notion into his Torah commentary, interpreting the levitical phrase “her niddah will be upon him” as biblical proof for menstrual contagion.41 Nahmanides supports his claim on the basis of empirical evidence, stress- ing that these powers are not folkloric fantasies but “actual experiences.”

104 · Medieval Kabbalah He considers the menstruous gaze “one of the most miraculous works in nature”42 and warns of the very real danger of menstrual pollution. In his commentary on Leviticus 20:18 — If a man lies with a woman in her infi r- mity and uncovers her nakedness, he has laid bare her fl ow and she has exposed her blood fl ow — Nahmanides explains that the menstruating woman is like a fountain (maqor) of blood that must not be exposed lest she spew forth her evil and destructive waters. She is taboo to “the holy seed” (Isa. 6:13) for all the days of her impurity, until she immerses herself in water, for only then she will be purifi ed in hermind and body and become completely clean.43 Nahmanides’ focus on the dangers of the menstruant in his Torah commentary is in stark contrast to the original intent of the priestly writers, who sought to distance impurity and danger from the menstruant. Leviticus lists four categories of people with issue — the zav, ejaculant, niddah, and zavah — who are barred from the Temple cult because of the demands of ritual purity. Th e priestly authors, however, only explicitly describe the zav, ejaculant, and zavah as ritually impure (tameh). Th is absence of the niddah is not an oversight. Rather, it likely refl ects thepriestly authors’ reaction to the practices of other Near Eastern cults that believed menstruants were dangerous because they were possessed by impure spirits.44 Indeed, according to Leviti- cus 15:20–25, menstrual blood contaminates, not the menstruant. She renders impure only what lies beneath her — that is, objects that could become polluted by menstrual blood. In contrast to other Near Eastern cultic leaders who concentrated on exorcising spirits of impurity from the polluted, Israel- ite priests distanced impurity from the menstruant herself to the items that she touched, partly in order to suppress the notion that her impurity constitutes any kind of possession or contagion.45 Nahmanides’ Torah commentary is unusual among his writings in its treatment of niddot. His Laws of Niddah (Hilkhot Niddah) and his Novellae on the Tractate Niddah (H. iddushim al Massekhet Niddah) show no disparagement of menstruating women.46 Moreover, Nahmanides was a physician, and we know that he treated gynecological problems.47 Elsewhere, he describes the menstrual fl ow as a natural cleansing“ of surpluses [of blood]” and disagrees with Rashi and Abraham ibn Ezra, who suggest that menstruation is a sickness.48 How could Nahmanides, a physician with experience treat- ing patients, subscribe to a notion as fanciful as the ocular powers of the menstruant?

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 105 Nahmanides’ scientifi c education introduced him to the concept of the menstruous eye. During the course of the thirteenth century, gynecological theory shift ed from the Galenic tradition to the Aristotelian, with unhappy consequences for the status of women in both Jewish and Christian society.49 And Nahmanides, thirty years Isaac’s junior, incorporates these new ideas into both his Torah commentary and his sermon “Torat ha-Shem Temimah” to support his theology.50 Aristotle believed that females were “incomplete males.”51 Maleness was the norm and femaleness, a “lack of maleness.” Men represented active, spiritual form and women, passive, material matt er.52 Among ancient authors, Aristotle alone denied that women produce seed. Aristotle also construed menstruation diff erently. Most Greek physicians believed that menstruation had a purgative function. Hippocrates, for example, believed that women, being spongier than men, cannot expel fluids easily and must menstruate. Men can expel waste by other means.53 Galen similarly explains that men are warmer than women and bett er able to purge themselves of superfl uous fl uids through physical activity, perspiration, and excretion. Women, whose humor is cold, must menstruate in order to excrete excess fl uid and maintain their humoral balance.54 Here, too, the menstrual fl ow is purgative.55 Aristo- tle, however, takes a diff erent approach. He understands blood as a bodily nourishment and deduces that blood not used as nourishment becomes bodily residue. Men, who are hot and dry, are able to convert this residue into a generative force, semen, while in women, who are cold and wet, it remains “unconcocted” and must be excreted in the form of menstrual blood.56 Men- strual blood is a manifestation of female incapacity. Th e “menstruous gaze” that Nahmanides reports emerges from this Aris- totelian view. In Aristotle’s treatise On Dreams, we read that menstruation affl icts the entire female body. Because the eyes contain so many blood vessels, they are particularly susceptible to this “feverish disorder of the blood.” Hence, a fi ction about the ocular powers of the menstruant: just as that which is heated and becomes hot may heat something else in turn, not only does one see, but the very act of seeing creates an eff ect.57 Th erefore, if a woman looks into a highly polished mirror during the menstrual period, the surface of the mirror becomes clouded with a blood-red color (and if the mirror is a new one the stain is not easy to remove, but if it is an old one there is less diffi culty) . . . Th e reason for this is that . . . when

106 · Medieval Kabbalah menstruation takes place, as a result of a feverish disorder of the blood, the diff erence of condition in the eyes, though invisible to us, is none the less real; and the eyes set up a movement in the air. Th is imparts a certain quality to the layer of air extending over the mirror, and assimilates it to itself; and this layer becomes the surface of the mirror.58 Th is fi ction was a fruitful one. Pliny, for example, claimed that menstruants could dull mirrors.59 In the Middle Ages, the menstruant was explicitly associated with the basilisk, a poisonous serpent whose glance or breath was believed to cause death.60 As the basilisk is fi lled with venom, the menstruant is fi lled with blood, and by analogy, the menstruant’s blood becomes venomous. Both the basilisk and the menstruant emit their poison through their eyes and corrupt the air. Th e air then transmits the poison into the eyes of others. Aft er the thirteenth-century rediscovery of Aristotle in the Latin West, natural philosophers confl ated the popular association of the menstruant and the basilisk with the account of the menstruant in On Dreams. Albertus Mag- nus, for example, explained that because the eye is a very passive organ, the menstrual fl ow can easily infect the eyes of a menstruant and emit a vapor that infects everything she sees.61 Associating menstruants with basilisks, he warns his readers to “to beware of every woman as one would avoid a venomous serpent and a horned devil.”62 Th e Secrets of Women, a popular treatise erroneously att ributed to Albertus Magnus, expatiates upon the dangers of the menstrual eye: It should be noted that old women who still have their monthly fl ow, and some who do not menstruate, poison the eyes of children lying in their cradles by their glance. . . . Th is is caused in menstruating women by the fl ow itself, for the humors fi rst infect the eyes, then the eyes infect the air, which infects the child. Th is is the opinion of the philosopher in the book on Sleeping and Waking.63 Th e text goes on to associate the menstruant with the basilisk, remarking that menopausal women are particularly venomous because they cannot purge themselves of their bodily toxin.64 All women are said to emit menstrual poison through their eyes, corrupt the air with noxious vapor, and transmit venom. Th is method of transmission corresponds to medieval notions of contagion, believed to be an eff ect of corrupted air. Menstruation thus becomes

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 107 a communicable disease to which the menstruant alone is invulnerable, for she, like the basilisk and other snakes, is immune to her own poison.65 Th us by the thirteenth century, the focus of physicians and natural scientists has shift ed from a purgative to a polluting function of the menstrual fl ow.66 Th is understanding informs Nahmanides’ Torah commentary.67 While the Talmud oft en associates women, menstruants, and snakes68 and mentions magical ocular powers,69 Aristotelian natural philosophy infl uenced Nahman- ides’ commentary on Leviticus. In his only other disparagement of menstruants in his Torah commentary, he cites “ancient philosophers” as his source for the menstruous eye. He explains that Rachel does not rise to greet her father Laban because “in ancient days menstruants kept themselves very isolated. Th ey were described as niddot (the banned ones) because they neither approached nor spoke with people. For the ancients in their wisdom knew that their breath is harmful, their gaze is injurious and makes a bad impres- sion, as the philosophers have explained. I will mention their experience in this matt er in the future.”70 Moreover, in his famous sermon “Th e Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” in which he justifi es the use of science for the service of Torah, Nahmanides states that the laws “prohibiting marital relations with his wife — that is, in the days of her menstruation — is due to natural law.” And, at the end of the section on menstruants, he quotes from his biblical commentary and specifi es Aristotle as the author of the menstruous eye, stating: Th ere is also a natural manifestation of the [harmful eff ect of menstrual blood]. Aristotle has writt en in his book — and it is a true experience — that if, at the beginning of her issue, a menstruant woman were to intently concentrate her gaze upon a glass mirror, there would appear on the glass a red spot resembling a drop of blood as large as a grain of mustard. Now if [the image of the blood] cleaves to the glass, how much more will it cleave to the child, the power thereof being as that of a viper which slays by sight.71 Nahmanides not only identifi es Aristotle as his source but, like Albertus Mag- nus, draws upon medieval folklore to call menstrual blood a lethal poison and compare the gaze of the niddah to the gaze of a basilisk. Th is notion contributes to an etiology of leprosy. Both Jewish and Christian traditions had long associated menstruation with infl ammatory skin conditions, but no previous Jewish source off ered an explicit physiological explana-

108 · Medieval Kabbalah tion for the correlation. Once menstrual blood is understood to be a poison, the link becomes clear; a dose of poison will kill an embryo and the slightest trace will aff ect fetal development. Th e exterior skin illness becomes nature’s way of ridding the body of the dangerous blood and poison.72 Moreover, medieval physicians did not distinguish between leprosy and venereal disease because leprosy was perceived as a punishment for sexual excess.73 Sexual relations with menstruants, a form of sexual deviance, would therefore transmit “leprosy,” that is to say, venereal disease to the male partner as well.74 Women, by contrast, were relatively immune to sexual diseases and leprosy because they were immune to their own poison.75 Th e science historian Tzvi Langermann characterizes Nahmanides’ att i- tude toward science as one of both acceptance and devaluation. He explains that “scientifi c knowledge — defi ned here as that knowledge that is grounded in observation of the phenomena, especially as this stands in contrast to knowledge that is received through the Jewish tradition or extracted from the very texts of Torah — has a certain validity. However, empirical study of the natural world, detached from any metaphysical, other-worldly considerations, is in the opinion of Nahmanides, simply not a very worthwhile un- dertaking.”76 Why, then, does Nahmanides adopt contemporary medical and scientifi c conceptions of menstruants,and why do these conceptions fi gure only in his Torah commentary and in his Sermon “Th e Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect”?

the menstruous eye and kabbalah

Nahmanides believed that the Torah contained divine secrets. Consequently, his Torah exegesis, rather than his legal writing, became the main venue for his kabbalistic interpretations. Th is methodology explains his unique treatment of menstruants in his exegetical works. In his halakhic and medical material, Nahmanides interprets menstruation literally (as peshat) and portrays menstruation as a natural state of being; in his Torah commentary and in his sermon, by contrast, he incorporates Aristotelian natural philosophy and folklore in the service of his mystical theology to allude to the kabbalistic mystery of menstruation.77 Nahmanides directly associates the need for menstrual separation and mystical pursuits in his sermon “Th e Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” where he immediately follows his discussion of the ocular power of menstruants with

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 109 a discourse on “the wisdom ‘that is hidden from the eyes of all living and is broader than the sea,’ ” that is, the Kabbalah.78 In his Torah commentary, Nah- manides, quotes from the Beraita de Massekhet Niddah. Th us, his understanding of menstruants is not solely a product of his adaptation of Aristote- lian natural philosophy. Rather, his incorporation of medieval scientifi c ideas dovetails with notions about menstruants already extant in the Jewish tradition, and he uses both in his Torah commentary to throw light on the mystery of the menstruating woman. Nahmanides usually introduces a kabbalistic tradition with the words “by way of truth.” In his commentary on Leviticus 18:19, however, he compares the power of the menstruous eye to a miracle, describing it in the terms of Job 37:16 as one of the “wondrous works” of “him who is perfect in knowledge.” Nah- manides believed that miracles demonstrated divine knowledge, providence, and creatio ex nihilo, and these he considered divine mysteries.79 For example, he believed that creation out of nothing refers to creation from Ayin (nothing), the “Divine Nothing” through which creation emanated.80 His classifi cation of the menstruous eye as a miracle may likewise refer to a divine secret. Moreover, Nahmanides believed that the laws of forbidden sexual relations — which include sexual relations with menstruants — were kabbalistic mysteries.81 Th e Bible states that a man who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman is punished by karet, a technical term that literally means extirpation, but which the rabbis interpret as premature death. Kabbalists believed that the punishment refers instead to the destruction of the soul. Most of the thirty-six transgressions that carry this penalty are sexual in nature. Because sexual misdeeds bring forth inviable off spring, the sexual transgressor is re- paid in kind: just as he extirpates the life of a potential soul, his own soul will be extirpated through karet.82 Nahmanides alludes to an association between sexual misdeeds and karet in his Torah commentary. Leviticus states that those who engage in forbidden sexual relations are exiled from the Land of Israel. Why sexual transgression should be punished by exclusion from the land becomes clear when the verse is deciphered kabbalistically. Nahmanides interprets the Land of Israel in two ways: literally and kabbalistically as the Shekhinah. One who engages in illicit sexual activity is literally expelled from the Land of Israel and symbolically from the Shekhinah.83 He who engages in sexual relations with a menstruating woman, the last of the catalog of illicit sexual relations, is punished by the far more serious penalty of karet, extirpation.84 Exile allows the possibility of

110 · Medieval Kabbalah return; karet is permanent. By analogy, we may infer that Nahmanides would consider one who engages in sexual relations with menstruants as forever cut off from communion with the Shekhinah.85

nahmanides’ students

Nahmanides hoped that his uninitiated readers would be satisfi ed with his references to the Kabbalah, and he forbade the uninitiated to delve into the text’s deeper meaning. Th is, of course, was an invitation. Th e prohibition aroused the curiosity of so many scholars and laymen that it created “a major kabbalistic activity of interpreting those passages on which Nahmanides specifi cally prohibited further speculation.”86 Nahmanides’ own students heeded their master’s desires and transmitt ed kabbalistic traditions only orally. Th eir students, however, enlarged upon Nahmanides’ exegesis in writing.87 Four students of Rabbi Solomon ibn Adret wrote supercommentaries on Nah- manides. Many other exegetes, such as Isaac of Acre, Bah. ya ben Asher, and Menah. em Recanati, wrote biblical commentaries based upon Nahmanides’ work. All these exegetes assume that Nahmanides revealed the “mystery of the separation from the niddah” in his exegesis on Leviticus 18:19.88 Th e supercommentaries convert Nahmanides’ references to natural philosophy into the terms of kabbalistic myth. For example, Bah. ya ben Asher and Shem Tov ibn Gaon explain that a menstruant’s gaze will cause blood spots to appear not only on a mirror but also on other forms of polished metal, such as a dagger blade. Rather than att ribute this power to bad air (ruah. ra), as in Aristotle’s theory of contagion, Bah. ya ben Asher and Shem Tov ibn Gaon read ruah. ra mythologically as “bad spirit.” Th ey explain that evil spirits of impurity transfer menstrual impurity from its origin on the divine left to terrestrial women by possessing women at the onset of their fl ow.89 Impure spirits empower the niddah, enabling her to alter the nature of a mirror or a sword.90 Th ese kabbalists explicitly formulate the long expurgated belief that spirits of impurity possess menstruants. For the Catalonian kabbalist Bah. ya ben Asher, for instance, the issue of the niddah proves her affi nity to impure forces. Th e Mishnah describes impure menstrual blood in terms of grapes and wine.91 Bereshit Rabbah identifi es grapes as the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge: Eve sinned when she squeezed these grapes and gave them to Adam.92 Th irteenth-century kabbalists associate Eve’s sin of squeezing the grapes with the fl ow of impure blood. eyTh explain

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 111 that there are two types of grapes: white grapes represent the benevolent sefi rot, and red or black grapes represent stern Judgment. Eve sinned by squeezing the red or black grapes of the left side. In so doing, she att ached herself to evil and introduced death and destruction into the world.93 Her punishment, menstruation, fi ts her crime: Eve’s blood must spill because she spilled both human blood and the red juice of the grapes of Judgment.94 Bah. ya ben Asher applies this analogy to all menstruants, explaining: Eve was punished with the blood of menstruation because it has the same appearance [as the wine, the symbol of harsh Judgment] and it is dis- charged from her with the same appearance. And this is the mystery of the Scripture’s language when it described a kind of wine in terms of blood. As it is writt en, “and from the blood of the grape you drank foaming wine” (Deut. 32:14). And it is writt en, “he washes his garments in the blood of grapes; and his vesture in the blood of grapes” (Gen. 49:11). . . . Th is is the reason that the sages, may their memory be blessed, said that man produces white [seed], while woman produces red [seed]. Th e sin of the mother [Eve] and her daughters is similar with respect to the wine, which causes the evils of the world.95 Wine, grapes, and the color red are all symbols of stern Judgment in nondual- istic presentations of evil. Menstrual blood is the external mark of women’s affi nity to the sinister sefi rah. Just as Judgment is the seventh sefi rah, Leviti- cus deems menstruants impure for seven days;96 just as Judgment secretes wine lees, women discharge menstrual blood.97 echoes of nahmanides in castile

Nahmanides and his interpreters directly infl uenced Castilian att itudes toward menstruants. Rationalizing the laws of niddah in Sefer ha-Rimmon, Moses de Leon paraphrases Nahmanides’ Torah commentary and then adds one signifi cant sentence to his summary: within the laws of niddah “lies a secret. [Th ere is] another deep issue in the mystery of the law of the niddah and the need to separate from her, and what I have said is suffi cient.”98 We may infer his meaning from a similar discussion in the Zohar. Th ere is no defi lement in the world greater than that of menstruation. The defi lement of menstruation is moresevere than any other type of defi le-

112 · Medieval Kabbalah ment. Th e man [who has such intercourse] becomes impure himself, and renders impure all those who are near to him. Wherever they go they drive the Shekhinah away. Furthermore, he brings a grievous illness upon himself and the child that he begets, for once a man has relations with a menstruant, the impurity takes hold of him and remains in every part of his body. At that moment, a spirit of impurity is cast upon the child that is begott en, and he will live all his days in a state of defi lement for his very foundation rests on a defi lement that is greater and stronger than any other, for as soon as a man approaches a menstruant woman, the impurity takes hold of him, as it is writt en, “her impurity is communicated to him” (Lev. 15:24).99 For Aristotle, menstruants are contagious because they have bad air; for de Leon, menstruants are contagious because spirits of impurity possess them. Elsewhere, the Zohar further mythologizes this understanding and refers to menstrual pollution as “the mystery of the primordial serpent.”100 Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai explains:101 We have learned that one hundred and twenty-fi ve diff erent types of impurity descended to the earth, which are united with the side of the powerful serpent. We have learned that twenty-seven of the greatest ones unite with women and cleave to them. Woe is he who approaches her at this time. For he who approaches a menstruant will cause a defect above. Be- cause through this sin the powerful serpent is awakened, and he casts his fi lth in a place that does not need it. And he unites with the female (the Shekhinah). And the hair of the male grows, and the female is polluted and her hair and nails grow. And at this point stern Judgment is awakened in this world and all are polluted. As it is writt en, “because he has defi led the Lord’s sanctuary” (Num. 19:20). Th e sanctuary of the Lord is polluted by the sins of men. We have learned that which is writt en, “and I will put enmity between you and the women” (Gen. 3:15). Th e serpent cast twenty- four diff erent types of impurity into the woman when he united with her, as in the numerical equivalent of the word “and enmity.” Twenty-four types of [impurity] are aroused above and below. Her hair and nails grow and [through this] Judgment is awakened in the world. And when a woman wishes to purify herself she must cut the hair that has grown during the days of her impurity. And she must cut her nails and all similar fi lth.102

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 113 Samael, the leader of the demonic other side (sitra ah.ra) of impurity, is responsible for the one hundred and twenty-fi ve diff erent types of human pollution. He instills women with the twenty-four gravest forms.103 Th ese spirits of impurity possess women and occasion their menstrual fl ow.104 Menstruat- ing women become the terrestrial incarnation of the demonic realm. the possession of the niddah in thirteenth-century kabbalah

Many Castilian kabbalists represent terrestrial menstruants as vessels possessed by the force of evil at the onset of their fl ow. isTh understanding signifi - cantly diff ers in degree from the assumptions of the BdN, where menstruants are only tacitly possessed by spirits of impurity. In the Zohar, by contrast, the menstruant is possessed by the spirit of impurity, Samael, who replaces her particular soul with his own impure spirit. Consequently, Samael’s diff erent manifestations determine the character of the niddah. When Samael is a sor- cerer, the niddah becomes a witch; when Samael is the evil inclination, the niddah becomes sinful; and when he is the Angel of Death, the niddah becomes a killer. Th e Zohar conceives of a niddah far more dangerous than the menstruant presented in the BdN because the powers of the niddah are limited only by the particular character of Samael that she assumes.

Niddah and Magic Many cultures associate menstrual blood with sorcery. Ancient Greek and Roman authors believed that menstrual blood could be used for both good and evil; it could cure disease and drive away stormy weather and vermin, but it could also cause abortions and kill crops.105 Th e Talmud also att ests to a belief in the magical power of menstrual blood. Menstrual blood was kept for magical purposes, and blood-soaked rags were traded for their powers.106 Moreover, some rabbis considered women to be particularly skilled magicians. For example, Rabbi Shimon claims that “most women engage in sorcery.”107 Th ese perceived magical powers may have been related to women’s impure status. Th e Talmud describes magic in terms of a dichotomy between purity and impurity. Sanctioned magic is performed by means of the pure name of God, and unsanctioned magic is performed by means of the names of impurity and

114 · Medieval Kabbalah impure spirits.108 Th e rabbis, moreover, believed in the tenets of sympathetic magic, whereby like elements att ract.109 Th us, in order to perform illicit and, therefore, impure magical acts, the male magician must visit a polluting area, such as a graveyard.110 A sorceress, by contrast, would not need to travel, because the belief in the magical power of menstrual blood promoted an association between the ritually impure menstruant and impure magical acts. For example, in a discussion of magical practices,111 the Talmud relates that a menstruant who passes between two men has the power to kill one at the beginning of her fl ow, but at the end of her fl ow she will only have the power to cause strife between them.112 Th e strength of the menstrual fl ow determines the strength of women’s magical powers.113 Th irteenth-century kabbalists reveal the fear of menstruants implicit in this rabbinic teaching. Kabbalists believed that Samael empowers all acts of sorcery and necromancy. Th ey describe the sitra ah. ra as the ten crowns of sorcery and impurity that correspond to the ten crowns of faith.114 In order to gain access to these impure powers, practitioners of unsanctioned magic must physically pollute themselves. Bilaam, for example, would empower himself through seminal emissions;115 women become empowered through the female analog, the menstrual fl ow. According to Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, menstruation is the source of all witchcraft . Th e Torah states that “you shall not suff er a sorceress to live” (Deut. 18:10–11). Th e Talmud explains that the term “sorceress” appears in its feminine form to demonstrate that “most women engage in sorcery.”116 Mid- rash ha-Neelam Ruth, by contrast, explains that the term is feminine because the serpent instills the fi lth of sorcery, physically manifest as menstrual blood, into Eve, not into Adam. Sorcery is the province of women alone.117 Th e Zohar on Genesis states that all women originate on the left side of harsh Judgment, black magic, and impurity. Among women, menstruants are most closely associated with the side of impurity through the laws of sympathetic magic; consequently, they become more powerful magicians than their ritually pure sisters.118 Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth makes the relationship between menstruant and magic explicit in a reformulation of BT Pesah. im 111a.

It is taught: If one passes between two women who are menstruating, he will be overtaken by a demon. It will not leave his body unless something is done for him; mortal danger or murder is in store for him. And if they are not menstruating, the evil eye holds sway over his body or his wealth.119

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 115 Both menstruating women and ritually pure women can harm through magic. Menstruating women, however, are far more powerful sorceresses. Th ey infect others with their own spirit of impurity and thereby endanger both body and soul.120 Th e possessed individual will be freed of the impure spirit only if “something is done for him,” that is, if the spirit is exorcised. Ritu- ally pure women, by contrast, affl ict only the material realm by means of the evil eye.121 Th e Zohar warns men to guard themselves from woman during her days of impurity because she is then linked to the spirit of impurity. If she should perform magic during this time, she is likely to be more successful than when she is ritually pure. Th erefore anything that she touches [during this time] or anyone who approaches her will become polluted. Happy is Israel that God gave them the Torah and said to them, “do not come near a woman during her period of impurity to uncover her nakedness”(Lev. 18:19).122 Male mystics may shield themselves against menstruants and impurity with sanctioned magical techniques. In Hekhalot literature, adepts who had successfully adjured the Sar Torah could distinguish between diff erent types of blood in order to help women determine their purity status.123 Th ey could also recognize “all the deeds of men, even when they do them in the chamber of chambers, whether they are good or bad. . . . If one is suspected of having intercourse with a menstruating woman, he [the adept] knows it and recognizes him.”124 Kabbalists could divine one’s sexual improprieties through the arts of physiognomy and chiromancy. Aft er a man has had sexual relations with a menstruant, a red eagle appears on his forehead and other marks appear on his arms. Should he repent, the sign on his face will darken, and the mark on his right arm will disappear. Th e mark on his left side, the side of Judgment, however, remains permanently engraved.125

Th e Niddah and the Evil Inclination In the Bible, ritual impurity is usually represented as a state of being.126 Ritual impurity was used as a metaphor for sin, but the ritually impure Israelite was not considered sinful or immoral.127 By contrast, the Bible presents a second category of impurity, moral impurity, in which one becomes morally polluted through grave sins, such as idolatry, murder, and especially sexual sins. Th ese acts defi le not only the sinners, but alsothe sanctuary and the land of Israel.128

116 · Medieval Kabbalah Leviticus 18:27 exhorts Israel to refrain from sexual sin, lest “the land spew you out for defi ling it” — an image directly invoked by Jeremiah in his account of the expulsion. Although, by the rabbinic period, tsaraat impurity has come to be the mark of the sin of gossip,129 the rabbis maintain the distinction between ritual and moral impurity.130 In Kabbalah, however, there is no distinction between ritual impurity and moral impurity. Physical impurity is the mark of moral pollution (and vice versa) because the polluting agent Samael is both the source of immorality and the spirit of impurity.131 From the tenets of sympathetic magic,132 Castilian kabbalists concluded that the morally impure att ract the evil inclination. Because the evil inclination is also the spirit of impurity, he physically pollutes them upon contact. Conversely, the physically impure att ract the spirit of impurity who, by virtue of his evil nature, inclines them toward sin. Th e Zohar explains this process as follows:

Samael comes to man with deceit and treachery in order to turn him aside from the ways of the Holy One, blessed be He. Just as it seduced Adam and brought death to the whole world, so too it seduces mankind and causes them to become defi led, and whoever becomes defi led ractsatt the spirit of impurity and becomes att ached to it.133

Many thirteenth-century Kabbalists, therefore, portray menstrual impurity as a mark of moral pollution.134 For example, the RM remarks that the fi ve types of impure menstrual blood “infl ict guilt.”135 Th e Geronese kabbalist ibn Shueib describes the precise nature of this guilt:

all states of tumah are polluted because they derive from the evil inclination, etc. . . . Anyone who deals with it [the evil inclination] is impure and so the corpse [is impure], because death does not come without sin, and the emission of semen in vain [is impure because it] comes from the side of the evil inclination. Th e niddah, zavah, and parturient [are impure] because the bloods come from Eve who brought death upon herself.136

Th e Niddah and the Angel of Death Ibn Shueib builds upon an association between menstruation and death already suggested in Leviticus. Since “the life of the fl esh is in the blood” (Lev. 17:11), the loss of menstrual blood may be perceived as the death of a potential

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 117 life.137 Th at the rabbis of the Talmud made such a correlation is evident in the rabbinic pejorative for the uterus, grave (qever). Th is connection took on ritual signifi cance aft er the demise of the Temple cult, when corpse pollution lost its cultic relevance and many of the taboos that had been associated with death were redirected toward the menstruant.138 Th irteenth-century kabbalists enlarge upon the traditional association between menstruants, spirits of impurity, and death, for in Kabbalah, the menstruant is not merely associated with generic spirits of impurity, but rather, she is thought to be possessed by the spirit of impurity, also known as the Angel of Death. Th e Talmud identifi es Satan with the Angel of Death. Isaac of Acre introduces women into this equation, explaining that women and the Angel of Death both derive from the att ribute of Stern Judgment. Th eir common origin bears upon their common purpose: both women and Satan are responsible for death in this world.139 Some Castilian kabbalists add that the menstrual fl ow is the source of women’s mortal powers.140 Samael, in the guise of the Angel of Death, possesses women at the onset of their fl ow and transforms them into agents of death.141 For example, as the Zohar explains, when Eve ate the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, she separated life from death, thereby intro- ducing the autonomous powers of death into the world. Menstrual separation reenacts this primeval separation of life and death. Man, the symbol of life, must separate from his menstruating wife, the autonomous force of death.142 Some texts att ribute the menstruant’s lethal powers to the female demon Lilith the infant slayer rather than to the male Samael.143 Th e RM describes the fi ve diff erent types of impure menstrual blood as the mark of the evil maidservant Lilith, who monthly infects women with her “strange blemish” (mum zar).144 When possessed, menstruants assume her qualities and become infant slayers rather than the more powerful Angel of Death.145 the beraita d’niddah and kabbalah

Th e BdN had an elaborate pedigree within the Jewish mystical tradition. As we have seen, the traditions of the BdN display a mystical consciousness very similar to that found in Hekhalot literature. Th ey were then adopted by the German Pietists, and adapted by medieval kabbalists.146 Castilian mystics chose BdN traditions because they understood them as a part of mystical tradition fi rst through Ashkenaz and then through Nahmanides. Having concluded that these mystically infl uenced halakhot fulfi ll the requirements for

118 · Medieval Kabbalah mystical practice, several kabbalists integrated them into their own theosophical ideas and symbolic structures, applying them to the Shekhinah in their mystical speculation and to terrestrial women in their halakhic choices. Th e BdN has two major emphases: separating menstruants from the sacred and the possession of menstruants. In contrast to earlier Jewish mysticism that had generally adopted the strictures of the BdN with regard to the sancta but largely ignored the demonic component, kabbalists confl ate the two and justify the need to isolate the menstruants from the sacred by means of an elaborate demonology. Th ere is an implicit connection between isolation from the holy and possession by a demon. Menstruants must separate from the sancta because menstrual impurity is anathema to God. Abandoned by the holy, they may become susceptible to ungodly, demonic infl uence. irteenth-centuryTh kabbalists make these tacit assumptions explicit and substantiate them with kabbalistic myth. At the beginning of her fl ow, the menstruant becomes possessed by excess Judgment (Din) or by the demonic other side (sitra ah.ra). She is transformed into an ungodly agent of evil and becomes a source of danger to both man and God. Kabbalists thus give theological justifi cation to a belief in the possession of menstruants and the need to separate them from the sancta. Kabbalists therefore conceive of a niddah even more dangerous than the menstruant presented in the BdN and these conceptions impinge on women’s social and spiritual opportunities. Th e traditions of the BdN were known to the earliest kabbalists in Pro- vence. Isaac the Blind affi rms the existence of “a great deal of material regarding the strictures of the niddah,” including the beliefs that her “name was niddah,” that “her words were forbidden,” and that “they are completely polluted.”147 Nahmanides, the fi rst kabbalist to explicitly name the text now known as the Beraita d’Niddah, describes its strictures in detail:

as they mentioned in the Beraita of Massekhet Niddah, a scholar is forbidden to inquire about the welfare of the niddah.148 Rabbi Neh. emiah stated that even the words that come forth from her mouth are impure.149 Rabbi Yodan said that a man may not walk behind a menstruant and step upon the dirt [upon which she passed], which is impure as death. [Just as she or possibly he that walked over her ashes is impure like a dead person] so too are the ashes upon which she treads and it is forbidden to derive any benefi t from the work of her hand.150

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 119 Nahmanides incorporates laws into his Torah Commentary that isolate the niddah from the community at large because of her perceived danger. Many other kabbalists follow suit. Bah. ya ben Asher, for example, mentions that menstruants’ spitt le and smell are destructive and that menstruants render impure the dust upon which they tread.151 Later kabbalists, such as Moses de Leon, Menah. em Recanati, Joseph Hamadan, and Menah. em Tsioni, not only cite the BdN, but also justify its strictures by means of kabbalistic mythology. For example, the BdN expatiates upon the physical dangers posed by the menstruating woman. Sexual relations with a niddah during her blood fl ow will engender lepers, cripples, and children with boils.152 Proximity to a menstruant will cause great scholars to forget their studies.153 Th e Zohar explicitly ascribes the root of these eff ects to Samael, here described as the spirit of impurity. Sexual relations with a niddah are dangerous because the act “causes the Spirit of Impurity to take hold of him [her partner] and remain in every part of his body.”154 Th is same spirit is cast upon the child that is begott en, and he will live all his days in a state of defi lement, for his very foundation rests on a defi lement that is greater and stronger than any other, for as soon as a man approaches a menstruant woman the impurity takes hold of him, as it is writt en, “her impurity is communicated to him” (Lev. 15:24).155 Th e BdN also warns menstruants to neither cut their nails, “lest one [par- ing] fall to the earth and cause whoever steps upon it to break out in boils,” nor brush their hair near their husband’s bed lest any stray strand pollute their husband and children.156 Th e Zohar rationalizes these fears. Shimon bar Yoh. ai explains that the powers of evil that grow in menstruants inhere in the growth of their hair and fi ngernails.157 Although possession formally ends aft er twelve days of separation, vestiges of demonic power still remain in these newly grown parts of her body. Women must therefore cut their nails and their hair before ritual immersion to remove all traces of demonic pollution before purifi cation.158 kabbalah and iberian jewish culture

Kabbalistic traditions met with an eager audience in fourteenth- and fi eenth-ft century Iberia. Castilian mystics collected and copied Zoharic traditions.159 Th e Zohar, Joseph Gikatilla’s Shaarei Tsedeq, Abraham ben David’s Baalei

120 · Medieval Kabbalah ha-Nefesh, and the book Bahir are explicitly mentioned in a recently discovered early fi eenth-centuryft inventory of twenty-six Jewish libraries in Jaca (Aragon).160 Moreover, the Zohar’s ethos informed several pre-expulsion ethical works and popular halakhic treatises.161 Th ese popular texts were part of an innovative eff ort by pietistic scholars in Spain to educate laymen and reform Jewish practice in the fourteenth and fi eenthft centuries.162 Mystical traditions on menstruation provided a powerful arsenal for rabbis bent on promoting observance of menstrual separation. Meir ibn Aldabi (Toledo, 1310–1360) quotes extensively from the BdN and cites Nahmanides’ “scientifi c” theory that menstruants dull mirrors, in his Shevilei ha-Emunah.163 Th e fourteenth-century Sefer ha-H.inukh164 blesses God

who removed from His people, whom He chose, all things that harm the body, because it is an instrument for the soul that knows its maker. Simi- larly he removed us from the parturient, the niddah, and the zavah on the days she is counting, until they are cleansed from the excess within them which is a bad thing and causes illness.165

Isaac Aboav devotes an entire chapter to the dangers of menstruants in his Menorat ha-Maor, an ethical and halakhic treatise completed in the beginning of the fourteenth century.166 Aboav begins his excursus paraphrasing Nahmanides’ commentary on Rachel and the idols. He explains that the ancients completely isolated menstruants because — as philosophers have explained — menstruants are dangerous. Menstruants would sit alone in tents; no man would dare enter. Th at is why Lavan immediately understood his daughter Rachel’s meaning when she stated “the way of woman is upon me.” Lavan did not even respond; the ancients did not speak with menstruants because their words were polluted. Th e complete isolation of menstruants fell into desuetude because of ignorance and lust. Aboav explains that the holy Torah resuscitated menstrual separation

to sanctify Israel, to separate them from the nations, to distance them from “zohama” and to guard them from this danger so they can produce their seed sacredly. Aware of the secret of generation, of injury, of repair, of impurity, and of purity, the Torah commanded us to observe the laws of niddah and the days of zivah (which are stricter than those of niddah) . . . Th e Blessed One who knows all secrets, who in his kindness acts as the healer of Israel, in his wisdom, arranged these (laws) as he deemed necessary.

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 121 And the sages of Israel who understood the mystery of separating menstruants, said in the Beraita de Massekhet Niddah “a Talmid H.akham may not inquire about a menstruant’s welfare.” Rabbi Neh. emiah said “her words are impure.” Rabbi Yoh. anan said “a man may not walk behind a niddah nor step upon her dust, it is as impure as the dead. And one may not benefi t from the work of her hand.”167

Aboav’s repeated use of the term “mystery” (sod, nistarot) and his use of the term zohama within the context of menstruants strongly suggest his familiarity with mystical teachings about the menstruant. Aboav describes the authors of the BdN as sages privy to the hidden meaning of menstrual laws. Th is appeal to secrecy does not allow for dissenting opinions; it does not matt er that the laws of the BdN do not cohere with other rabbinic treatments of menstrual laws.168 Th e authors of the BdN have had special insight into God’s laws, and their interpretations must be observed.

Israel al Nakawa (d. 1391) wrote an ethical work also entitled Menorat ha- Maor in which he translates the Zoharic mystery of the primordial serpent who instills twenty-seven of the greatest types of impurity into women in the name of Midrash Yehi Or. “Woe is he who approaches her at this time. For he who approaches a menstruant will cause a defect above.”169 Abraham Saba (d. 1508 ) reads Leviticus 15 through a Zoharic lens in his Torah commentary Tsror ha-Mor.170 He explains that the laws of menstruation, discharges, and scale disease appear in the same biblical portion because human pollution originates in the side of perfi dy and impurity. Adam and Eve introduced genital fl ux impurity into the world when they sinned. eTh zav and baal qeri are drawn from Adam’s sin; the zavah and niddah are drawn “from the side of Eve’s impurity. Female impurity, however, is doubly potent, because God told Eve that “I am doubling and redoubling your toil (Genesis 3:16).” Th e side of the spirit of impurity overpowers menstruants and infl icts them doubly.171 Th e Zohar’s infl uence extended beyond the borders of the Iberian peninsula even before the expulsion in 1492. Th e Ashkenazi biblical exegete Menah. em Tsioni incorporates the Zohar into his commentary on menstruants in his Sefer Tsioni.172 Th e Italian kabbalist Menah. em Recanati cites Zoharic traditions about menstruants in his Commentary on the Torah and in his Rationales for the Commandments.173 He asserts that one who engages in sexual relations with menstruating women causes a defect in the supernal merkavah.174 Th e later

122 · Medieval Kabbalah Byzantine Sefer ha-Qanah similarly explains that proper sexual relations will foster divine union, while sexual relations with impure women will introduce impurity into the Hekhal, the vestibule in front of the Holy of Holies that symbolizes the Shekhinah. Th e laws of the niddah embrace all other acts of forbidden sexual relations, which introduce impurity into the realm of the holy.175 Menah. em Recanati and the anonymous author of the Sefer ha-Qanah also assert that the souls of those who transgress the laws of the arayot will transmigrate into impure creatures that befi t their crime. Recanati explains that a man who has relations with a menstruous woman will transmigrate into a Gentile woman, one who has sexual relations while niddah.176 Th e author of the Sefer ha-Qanah off ers an alternative and suggests that one who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman may transmigrate aft er death into the body of a leper, a punishment particularly suited to the crime: when a woman is a niddah, she is outside and distanced. When one has relations with her, he causes all the impurities to enter the Hekhal. He will therefore return to earth as a leper who sits alone, banned like a niddah, outside of the camp. One who transgresses any of the laws of forbidden sexual relations is liable to the punishment of karet and the niddah comprises all of the arayot.177 Lepers and menstruants are both banned, niddah, from the community of the holy. A man who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman may, instead of undergoing a gender change and becoming a menstruant in his next life, become the male equivalent — a leper.

Kabbalists draw upon natural philosophy, medieval medicine, and folklore in order to understand the mystery of the menstruating woman. In Kabbalah, women’s status is not only determined by terrestrial concerns but also by the myth of the menstruating Shekhinah. When these theological predispositions dovetail with the existing biases within the medical and scientifi c community, it creates a misogyny that aff ects women’s home life, health care, and heavenly aspirations. In medieval folklore, the menstruant is likened to a snake fi lled with venom. In Kabbalah, the primordial serpent fi lls the menstruant with his own venom and transforms her into a demonic force. Th e dangers that she can pose and the means by which kabbalists hoped to deter these dangers fi ltered into popular Jewish culture and had an impact on the spiritual opportunities of Jewish women in medieval society.

Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 123

III Mysticism & Menstruation in Islam & Christianity Building upon Temple cult traditions, physical purity became prerequisite for mystical vision in the late-antique and medieval Jewish tradition. Th is emphasis on purity not only barred women from “normative” forms of mystical expression but also contributed to the understanding of menstruation as an ungodly, demonic force. Th us, of the three major religions in medieval Europe — Judaism, Christianity, and Islam — only Judaism cannot boast a single female mystic. Medieval Jewish women were barred from rabbinically sanctioned mysticism because of their innate impurity. Purity rituals, however, were present in medieval Christianity and continue to be a fact of life in Islam. Why, then, wasn’t menstruation an obstacle to women’s spiritual expression for medieval Christian and Muslim women? Th e answer lies in the diff erent function of purity in Christianity and Islam and in the distinct requirements for mystical success. Although all mystics share the similar goal of divine gnosis, their paths to God diff er — mystical practices are contextualized by religious experience. To have a successful encounter with the divine, the mystic must embody the qualities that are most highly esteemed by their religious tradition. Moreover, the mystic’s visionary experience will refl ect their religion’s iconography and symbolism. While a Hekhalot mystic would purify himself from all physical and moral impurity in order to enter a heavenly Temple, the virgin Catherine of Siena would fast in order to see an image of the Virgin Mary. Analysis of the function of menstruation in Christian and Muslim mysticism not only sheds light on women’s spiritual opportunities but also serves as a means to distinguish what matt ered most to the each religious tradition. 8 Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm

Do not prevent the maid-servants of Allah entering the places in which he is worshipped. sahĪh muslim, 4:886

In Islam, laws of menstrual purity are part of a vast system of purity laws that govern Muslims’ daily lives. Because of its quotidian nature, impurity is not an unusual state for Muslims; consequently, menstruation loses much of its stigma, particularly within the Sufi tradition. Sufi s enlarged the symbolism of impurity and designated spiritual, rather than physical, impurity the major obstacle to divine union. A pure-hearted Muslim menstruant could therefore engage in dhikr, remembrance of God, one of the most essential aspects of Sufi devotion. Purity of heart matt ers most for Sufi practice.

impurity and menstrual laws in islam

Th ere are fi ve central aspects or pillars of Islam. Th ese are: (1) bearing witness to the unity of God and Muh. ammad as his prophet, (2) performing ritual prayer fi ve times daily, (3) fasting during the month of Ramadan, (4) giving charity, and (5) pilgrimage to Mecca. Ritual purity is a precondition for the performance of all but the fourth pillar, charity. Th e Qurān describes three types of impurity — two that aff ect people, known as minor (h.adath) and major (janāba), and one that inheres in things (najāsa).1 Male and female Muslims may contract minor impurity by excretion, passing gas, sleeping deeply, and engaging in skin-to-skin contact with members of the opposite sex. Some juridical opinions hold that Muslims may become impure by vomiting, bleeding, and laughing uncontrollably. Th ose subject to minor impurity may purify themselves through wud.ū, a ritual washing of the face, hands, and feet, and wiping of the head.

127 Male and female Muslims may contract major impurity, janāba, by ejaculation (sleeping or waking), menstruation, or parturition. Th ose aff ected by janāba (junub) purify themselves by ghusl, lustration, a ritual pouring of water over the body. Th ese cleansings are meant for ritual rather than hy- gienic purposes. Indeed, the impure ejaculant, menstruant, and parturient do not need to wash their genitals to become pure.2 Moreover, should no water be available, both wud.ū and ghusl may be performed with sand or dirt (tayammum). Th e third type of impurity, inherent impurity, or najāsa, refers to polluted things rather than people. Th ings that are najis include blood (except the blood of martyrs), dogs, pigs, dead animals, and wine. Muslims can never become inherently impure, but they can be aff ected by inherently impure things. For example, parents’ clothes may become soiled by their infant’s excrement. Simple washing of the aff ected area is the means to rid oneself of the najāsa impurity. Th ere is no ritual ablution or lustration. menstrual impurity in islam

Th e laws for menstrual impurity, a form of janāba, are set down in the Qurān as follows: Th ey ask you about menstruation. Say, “It is a harmful thing; keep away from women when they are menstruating, and do not approach them until they are pure again. When they have purifi ed themselves, have intercourse with them as God has commanded you.” Indeed God loves the repentant and He loves those who purify themselves.3 Th is terse passage seems misogynistic. Th e Qurān defi nes menstruation as a harmful thing, and the verse is teaching men, rather than women, how best to observe the laws of menstrual purity. Indeed, the phrase “do not approach” recalls the Levitical commandment “not to come near” a menstruating woman for the purposes of sexual relations.4 Writt en for men, the Sura 2:222 emphasizes the way in which menstruation interrupts men’s sexual opportunity rather than how it preempts women’s religious obligations. Ac- cording to Islamic law, however, menstruating woman cannot (1) say the fi ve canonical prayers, (2) fast, (3) tarry in a mosque, (4) circumambulate the Kaba, (5) touch the script or recite the words of the Qurān.5 Given the all- encompassing nature of purity laws in Islam and the fact that Muslim menstru-

128 · Islam and Christianity ants can neither engage in ritual prayer nor tarry in a mosque, how can they come close to God?

Th e Uniqueness of Muslim Purity Laws In contrast to the Temple cult–based purity rituals in Israelite religion, purity rituals in Islam were never limited to a certain place or to certain persons. Rather, they are but one of an all-pervasive and comprehensive purity system incumbent upon all Muslims. Sleeping, defecating, and sexual relations — all of these daily human functions render Muslims impure. Purity and impurity factor into every aspect of observant Muslims’ lives, from the moment they wake up in the morning to the moment they go to sleep at night. Because ritual purity is required to engage in most acts of Islamic ritual, both male and female Muslims must undergo daily purifi cation. Purity laws in Sunni Islam further diff er from medieval Judaism and Zoroastrianism because the impure person is not considered contagious or dangerous. As the historian Zeev Maghen explains, even the contraction of impurity does not render the “essence” of a human organism impure. Th us whatever defi lement is “encountered” in the case of janāba is not “absorbed”: it somehow fails to penetrate or in any essential way altar one’s person.”6 Muh. ammad is reported to have said. “A believer is never contaminated/never contaminates.”7

menstrual laws in islam, redux

Indeed, if we revisit Sura 2:222 we may infer a very diff erent understanding. Menstruation is defi ned as “a harmful thing” — misogynist?8 Perhaps at fi rst glance, but not within the context of the Islamic purity system. Menstruation is a blood and, like all other bloods (including male blood),9 is considered inherently impure — najis; the menstruant, by contrast, is not considered inherently impure or dangerous.10 As soon as a woman’s fl ow ends, she purifi es herself and may revert to all normal activities. Th ere is neither the waiting period (or white days) nor the unique methods of purifi cation that one fi nds in rabbinic Judaism. Rather, the Qurānic stipulation is very similar to laws of niddah propounded in Leviticus 15:19.11 Like the niddah in Leviticus, the menstruant in the Qurān must refrain from sexual intercourse for seven days, and menstrual blood, rather than the menstruant herself, is deemed impure. Marion Katz has shown that by virtue of “the Muslims’ special covenantal

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 129 relationship to God [which] is grounded in their observation of His commands and prohibitions,” purity laws become a means by which women can actively participate in the new covenant.12 Muh. ammad treated menstruants in an equally liberal manner. (His evenhandedness was likely born of his own experience — Muh. ammad had many wives and fathered four daughters.) Just as Muh. ammad became impure through ejaculation, the women in his family became impure through menstruation. And this practical approach is evident in the many traditions about menstruation recorded in Muh. ammad’s name in h. adīth literature. Th e h. adīth on menstruation can be categorized in three ways: sexual matt ers, menstruating women’s proximity to the sacred, and the limits posed on menstruants’ observance. In all aspects, Muh. ammad harbors no special prejudices against menstruants. Moreover, he is extremely liberal with respect to sexual relations. For example, because the Qurān explicitly prohibits only sexual intercourse with menstruants, Muh.ammad permits other forms of physical intimacy. In one tradition, Umm Salama narrates: While I was lying with the Prophet under a single woolen sheet, I got the menses. I slipped away and put on the clothes for menses. He said, “Have you become impure?” I replied, “Yes.” He then called me and made me lie with him under the same sheet.13 And Āisha and several of the Prophet’s lesser known wives reported that: Whenever Allah’s Apostle wanted to fondle anyone of us (his wives) during her periods, he used to order her to put on an izār (waist wrapper) and start fondling her.” Āisha added, “None of you could control his sexual desires as the Prophet could.”14 Muh. ammad strictly construes the Qurānic prohibition against engaging in sexual intercourse with menstruating women — with a lenient result. Sexual intercourse alone is forbidden; all other forms of intimacy are permitt ed. He orders his wives to don an izār, a garment tightly wound from a woman’s navel to her knees, which allows for physical intimacy but makes Qurānically proscribed sexual intercourse impossible.15 Muh. ammad treats menstruants leniently in the public sphere as well. He allowed his menstruating wives to be near him while he was engaged in ritual prayer, permitt ed them to comb his hair while he recited from the Qurān, and instructed them to enter mosques to retrieve items for him.16 When his

130 · Islam and Christianity wives expressed surprise at his liberality, he replied, “menstruation is not in your hand,” that is to say, neither communicable nor dangerous.17 Indeed, according to Uma, Urwa narrated: A person asked me, “Can a woman in menses serve me? And can a junub woman (woman in a state of janāba) come close to me?” I replied, “All this is easy for me. All of them can serve me, and there is no harm for any other person to do the same.”18 For Muh. ammad, menstruation is just a state of being that precludes women from doing certain rituals and engaging in sexual intercourse. His matt er-of- factness can be seen in the following report of Āisha: Th e Prophet said to me, “Give up the prayer when your menses begin and when it has fi nished, wash the blood off your body (take a bath) and start praying.”19 Muh. ammad explains that women must only wait out the fl ow, wash the blood off of the aff ected area, and remove any stains from her clothes with water or by scraping in order to say her ritual prayers. Muh.ammad’s att itude toward menstruation can perhaps best be seen in the following h. adīth: Āisha [recounted] that the Prophet came to see her and found her weeping, having started to menstruate in Sarif before entering Mecca [on the Hajj]. He said “What’s the matt er; have you gott en your period?” She said, “Yes.” He said, “Th is is something that God has decreed for the daughters of Adam. Perform all the rites of the Hajj, except that you may not circumambulate the House.”20 Nonplussed, Muh. ammad strictly construes the Qurānic prohibition and allows Āisha to perform all of her religious responsibilities save the one explicitly forbidden — circumambulation of the Kaba. Moreover, he signifi cantly describes menstruation as “something God has decreed for the daughters of Adam” rather than as the punishment of Eve. As Marion Katz explains, “Th is statement gently but unmistakably implies that menstruation is not an extrin- sic product of female desire imposed as a result of transgression, but an integral part of God’s plan. It is not imposed on the daughters of Eve (presumably, as a result of her sin), but decreed for the daughters of Adam — that is, for the females of all humankind.”21

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 131 Muh. ammad’s sympathy for women enabled menstruants to have a much more active role in Muslim life. For example, according to h. adīth, a pious woman reported that she had heard the Prophet saying, “Th e unmarried young virgins and the mature girl who stay oft en screened or the young unmarried virgins who oft en stayed screened and menstruating women should come out and participate in good deeds as well as the religious gathering of the faithful believers but the menstruating women should keep away from the Mus.allā (praying place).” Hafsa asked her sur- prisingly, “Did you say the menstruating women?” She replied, “Doesn’t a menstruating woman att end the Hajj and such and such (other deeds)?”22 Th ere is no presumption of stigma in this text or in many other h. adīth. Th e menstruant is not dangerous or defi ling. Menstruation, like ejaculation and all other forms of ritual impurity are “something God had decreed” for the children of Adam. Muslims — male and female — undulate daily between states of purity and impurity, and all impure Muslims are prohibited ritual prayer and circumambulation of the Kaba, but this restriction does not in- demnify the impure. Rather, purifi cation rituals are another means by which Muslims can participate in a covenantal relationship with God because he “loves those who purify themselves.”23

Impurity Leads to Alternate Forms of Devotion Th e ubiquity of purity laws in Islam contributes to the spiritual opportunities of Muslim women in two ways. First, it removes the stigma of menstruation, and second, the preponderance of impurity and the concomitant ritual prohibitions make other forms of devotion necessary. Impurity precludes performance of salāt, the ritual prayer incumbent upon Muslims fi ve times daily. ereTh are, however, other types of prayer that do not require ritual purity: (1) free prayer — unscripted personal supplications and devotions; (2) pronouncements of love and yearning for God (munājāt); and (3) remembering God through meditation on his name or on Qurānic passages (dhikr).24 Of these three additional forms of prayer, only dhikr, remembrance, is a divine commandment incumbent upon both men and women, as is salāt. In contrast to salāt, however, dhikr can take place at any time and in any place, whether adherents are “standing, and sitt ing, [or] lying on their sides” (Sura 3:191). And although dhikr is not required fi ve times daily, the

132 · Islam and Christianity Qurān instructs believers to “remember God oft en!” (33:41). Th ose who remember God will gain “forgiveness and a great reward (33:35),” and “their hearts will fi nd rest” (13:28). H. adīth literature enlarges upon the importance of dhikr. Āisha reports that the Prophet mentioned/remembered Allah at all times of the day and night. Moreover, according to a tradition recorded in Malik’s Muwatt a: Yah. yā related to me from Malik that Ziyād ibn Abi Ziyād said that Abud- Dardāhad said, “Shall I not tell you the best of your deeds, and those that give you the highest rank, and those that are the purest with your King, and are bett er for you than giving gold and silver, and bett er for you than meeting your enemy and striking their necks?” Th ey said, “Of course.” He said, “Remembrance (dhikr) of Allah ta ala.”25 Th us, in h. adīth literature and in the Qurān, ritual prayer is portrayed as the minimum obligation, and dhikr is the means to come closer to God.26 Early Sufi s built upon these extant spiritual traditions to make of dhikr one of their central mystical practices. Medieval Sufi s envisioned their spiritual journey as a path fi lled with steps one needs to climb to reach the ultimate goal — divine union. Sufi writers in diff erent periods enumerate these stages in diff erent ways. Th ese maqāmāt, as they are called, can range in number and may include repentance, abstinence, patience, poverty, humility, fear, piety, sincerity, gratitude, trust, satisfaction, certainty, recollection, intimacy, and nearness. Th ey ultimately yield the “mystical” states of union, love, detach- ment and separation, and ecstasy.27 Meditation upon diff erent divine names enables the mystic not only to embark upon the path but also to ascend from one stage to the next. Following the Qurānic command that states, “Allah’s are the fairest names. Invoke him by them” (7:180), the Sufi att empts to come closer to God by invoking and meditating upon his names. Th e practice of dhikr became more ritualized over time. In the early stages of Sufi sm, the adept had the freedom to engage in dhikr at will; as Sufi practice developed, diff erent dhikrs were matched to diff erent stages of the Sufi path, and teaching the correct dhikrs became an essential aspect of a shaykh’s (master’s) instruction.28 Typically, adepts begin their journey meditating orally or silently upon a certain name in order to eschew all profane thoughts and to focus exclusively upon God. Once embarked on the path, they will invoke diff erent names to rise through the diff erent maqāmāt to God. Sufi s believe that each divine name conveys a diff erent att ribute of God. Every step

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 133 of the Sufi path becomes a means of knowing a diff erent aspect of God. Mas- tery of all the names is a means of att aining true gnosis. Indeed, al-Qushayrī (d. 1072), one of the most important medieval Egyptian Sufi s, wrote that “[d]hikr is a strong pillar in the path toward God, nay the most important.”29 It is worth emphasizing that physical purity is not a strict requirement for dhikr.30 Muslim menstruants did and do engage in this most acute form of prayer. Indeed, according to Muh. ammad ibn Khalīfa al-Washtānī (1424 CE): Menstruating women are allowed to engage in meditation (lit., “recollection of God” dhikr) and Qurānic recitation — which is equivalent to prayer — and perform all the rites of the pilgrimage except circumambulation [of the Kaba]; a woman engaging in a pious retreat [who begins to menstruate] can do everything that she was doing before except pray and remain in the mosque, according to the two opinions current in our school.”31 Th us impurity does not preclude women from the dhikr, the type of spiritual devotion most esteemed in the Qurān and the central pillar of Sufi practice. Moreover, the Egyptian Sufi al-Qushayrī explains in his commentary on the aforementioned Sura 2:222 that engaging in dhikr enables menstruating women to achieve spiritual heights impossible in ritual prayer: Everything that requires shame and modesty is not from the free will of the abd, and one of the defi ciencies that is not the fault of theabd , is not an act of choice, and it is not the principle of Allah’s rule, and from this is what Allah has determined regarding women in this situation (menstruation). Th en they are commanded to refrain from prayer during times of that situation, and prayer is the salvation of the master, and the fact that they do not come to the place of salvation (prayer) is a decree from Allah and not a sin of women . . . And in this there is an ishāra: If they are prohibited from prayer that requires bodily att endance, they are not prohibited from continual dhikr in the heart and on the tongue, and this lays out the prayer of carpet of nearness to Allah, as He has said: “I am the companion of him who remembers me.”32 Some medieval Muslim legists were concerned that menstruating women would be penalized for not saying the salāt. According to al-Qushayrī, however, there were two reasons that menstruating women should not be considered spiritually inferior. First, menstruating women observe God’s command

134 · Islam and Christianity when they avoid the prayers proscribed to them. Second, they are prohibited only from performing salāt — a prayer that al-Qushayrī defi nes “as requiring bodily att endance” — and not from “continual dhikr in the heart and on the tongue.” Because Sufi s desire to free themselves of the confi nes of the body, any prayer that requires bodily att endance is by defi nition inferior to prayer that takes place in the heart. Menstruating women are not only the spiritual equal of men engaging in salāt but may actually spiritually surpass them when remembering God.

women in sufism

Like Judaism and Christianity, Islam is a patriarchal religion.33 Th e Qurān states that women “have rights similar to those (of men) over them in kindness, and men are a degree above them. Allah is Mighty, Wise.”34 Many Muslim theologians have interpreted this Qurānic assertion to women’s detriment, and folk literature is fi lled with negative characterizations of women. Though one may interpret the Qurān literally and assert that men are above women in body, one cannot make the same claim about the spirit, for the Qurān states that men and women are created from the same soul.35 Within the spiritual realm, men and women are equal. Indeed, some scholars suggest that medieval and modern Muslim women enjoy more spiritual freedom in Sufi sm than in mainstream Islam because “the credentials of mysticism are by defi nition of another order, from the grace of God, and therefore, the boundaries of sex, and of literacy and formal education do not apply.”36 But Sufi sm is not antinomian. Although Sufi s may imbue laws with additional spiritual symbols, they do not fl out their prescribed observance. As we have seen, the quotidian nature of impurity in Islam led to the development of alternate forms of spiritual expression that were not regulated by one’s purity status,37 and to the absence of legal or purity barriers to menstruants’ engagement in dhikr, the central pillar of Sufi practice. Th ere is also a conceptual explanation for women’s involvement in Islamic spirituality. Sufi s desire to leave the physical world to become one with God. When one puts off the corporeal being, physical purity is no longer an obstacle; the soul is pure. Th us, bodily impurity is not perceived as an obstacle to divine union. Moreover, according to the Persian mystic Rūmī (d. 1273), God is “independent of all purity and impurity.”38 Sufi s internalize purity — making it a metaphor for the purifi cation of the soul from anything other than

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 135 God, rather than a description of a corporeal state of being. For example, the Persian Sufi Rūzbehān Bakli (d.1209) explains that “the true meaning of purity is to be separate from creation and to be characterized by the att ributes of Reality.”39 Purifi cation becomes a spiritual rather than ritual process. eTh fourteenth-century Persian poet Hāfi z Shīrāzī elaborates:

Whenever God appears to the heart that is witnessing Him, God’s purity purifi es that heart of every fault and obstruction. Once the devotee’s heart has become purifi ed, his intellect becomes liberated from subject to trial. Th en because of this purity, his spirit becomes liberated from att ention to the creation. Finally, his inner consciousness, having witnessed the Loved One, becomes purifi ed through the enjoyment of loving-kindness. When purity prevails in the foundation of the devotee’s nature, it aff ects his senses and limbs; spiritual purifi cation radiates throughout his being, externally and internally. Whoever sees him, observes the majesty of God’s purity in him, for he is the mirror of God in the world, “Indeed, God loved repenters and those who are clean (Sura 2:222).” Th e prophet said, “Purifi cation is a part of faith.” Th e Gnostic said, “Purifi cation is the emergence of the inner consciousness from the darkness of stray thoughts so that it joins the light of God’s att ributes.”

It is purity of heart rather than purity of body that is the key to Islamic mystical success.40 It is noteworthy that Hāfi z Shīrāzī underscores his symbolic reading of purity by choosing an excerpt from Sura 2:222, the Sura on menstruants, as his proof text. His predecessor Rūmī similarly emphasizes the need for spiritual purity for mystical pursuits against the backdrop of a woman with an excessive blood fl ow. In his magisterialMathnawī , Rūmī describes God’s acceptance of praise:

as an indulgence (which he grants), like (the indulgence granted in the case of ) the prayers of a woman suff ering from an excessive blood fl o .w Her prayers are stained with blood; your praise is stained with assimilation and qualifi cation. Blood is foul, and (yet) it goes (is washed away) by a litt le water; but the inward part (the inner man) hath impurities.

136 · Islam and Christianity Which fail not (are not removed) from the interior (the heart) of the man of work except by the water of the grace of the maker.41

Just as Jesus healed the woman with a fl ux, God accepts the prayers of a woman with an excessive blood fl ow (menorrhagia). Rūmī describes the acceptance of her prayers as an act of indulgence. But in truth, his acceptance of all prayers are acts of indulgence because our prayers are tainted with impurities far more foul than blood. Human impurity washes away easily. Impurity of spirit is more intransigent — it is the true hindrance to prayer. Th ese conceptual and legal understandings of menstruation facilitated women’s involvement in Islamic spirituality, and women have fi gured prominently in Islamic devotion since the time of the prophet Muh. ammad. His daughter Fātima was venerated for her piety, and many other female descen- dents were also noted for their devoutness. In fact, there are many parallels between Shiite veneration of Fātima and Catholic veneration of Mary.42 Th e best known female Islamic mystic is Rabīa al-Adawiyya of Basra, credited with transforming the harsh asceticism of early Sufi sm into love mysticism in eighth-century Iraq.43 She led an ascetic life and eschewed the traditional female roles of wife and mother in order to devote herself entirely to serving God. Rabīa, however, was not the only Islamic female mystic in eighth- century Basra — only the most famous.44 Indeed, it is likely that Basra and Syria were centers of female asceticism from 700 to 800 CE. For example, according to as-Sulamī’s tenth-century biography of early Sufi women, Shabaka of Basra “specialized in the ways of scrupulousness.” She built underground cells in her house to accommodate her female students, “where they learned the ways of self-denial and spiritual practice.”45 Āfriyya of Basra “was constantly enraptured and lost in the love of God. Most of her time was spent in remembrance of God, and she seldom associated with anyone.”46 And Shawāna would preach and recite the Qurān to her male and female disciples. She was known for her uncontrollable weeping, a practice common to many early female mystics. In defense, she would say: “Can an eye be separated from its Beloved and yearn to be united with him without weeping? Th is is not right!”47

Women as Men Even though these female mystics were admired and followed, their gender was oft en denied. Some scholars argue that Rabīa and her compatriots were

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 137 able to succeed along the Sufi path precisely because they were unfett ered by traditional female obligations. In fact, Rabīa and many of the early Sufi women in Basra were freed slaves, and this experience informed and facilitated their spiritual paths. Living on the margins, free of social att achments, they were able to eschew the traditional “female” roles of mother, daughter, and wife, and transpose their experience of human servitude into their service of God.48 Because they were not defi ned in relation to any being other than the creator, these women were as socially independent as any man. Later biographers drew this analogy on the basis of holiness rather than social status. For example, in his biography of Sufi s, ibn Att ār classifi es Rabīa among men rather than women because “when a woman walks in the way of God like a man, she cannot be called a woman.”49 Th e early Indian Chisti order described the pious Fātima of Indarpat as “a man who was sent to earth in the physical form of a woman.”50 Jami describes one pious woman in Mosul as “man-like,” and writes that one Egyptian female ascetic should not be called a “ ‘woman’ — for even one strand of her hair is still bett er that a hundred men.”51 Some scholars suggest that some female mystics may have desired to deny their bodily sexuality and used asceticism as a tool “to ‘become’ men.” Regimens of fasting and lack of sleep deny the body essential fats needed to ensure menstruation. Elias argues that amenorrhea “may have been a desired goal for female ascetics, because menstruation is the most tangible justifi cation used in Islamic thought and society to assign an inferior role to women. By ridding themselves of menstruation, they essentially rid themselves of the sign of women’s categoric spiritual inferiority to men.”52 Philosophers and religious thinkers have used the dichotomy between male and female to connote the opposition between spirit and body since the ancient period. Th is gendered duality is a societal construction rooted in prejudice against women that has far-reaching ramifi cations. eTh gender the- orist Susan Bordo explains that the cost of such projections to women is obvious. For if, whatever the specifi c historical content of the duality, the body is the negative term, and the woman is the body, then women are that negativity, whatever it may be: distraction from knowledge, seduction away from God, capitulation to sexual desire, violence, fear of will.53 Yet gender identity in Sufi sm did not fi t into these neatly defi ned categories.54 When a male Sufi describes a spiritual woman as a man of God, he is

138 · Islam and Christianity not directly commenting on her gender but using a societal convention to describe her spiritual state. Manliness is godliness, femaleness is materiality. Schimmel cites a Persian proverb that says, “Not every woman is a woman, not every man a man; God did not make identical the fi ngers of one hand.”55 According to Schimmel,

the concepts “man” and “woman” are earthly, bound to the ephemeral form made of dust. When man and woman have fi nally att ained the state of complete “debecoming” they no longer have an individual existence any more.56

Female Sufi s pursued an ascetic path in order to free themselves from the confi nes of the body — societally constructed as feminine. According to the logic of Muslim purity laws and Sufi practice, however, they need not physically att empt to cross the boundaries of gender by becoming amenorrheacs. Menstruation was not an impediment to mystical union because the physical self could not partake in spiritual ecstasy. While there are, to be sure, negative characterizations of menstruation in Islam, the state of menstruation does not preclude women from spiritual devotion. According to tradition, Rabīa, “the crown of men,” menstruated. Consider the following excerpt from the twelft h-century Persian Sufi ibn Att ār’s Conference on the Birds:

Rabīa, on the way to the Kaba seven years Rolled on her sides. Ah! Th e crown of Men!

When near the Sanctuary she got, gratifi ed, She said, At last I have accomplished a perfect Pilgrimage.”

She aimed for the Kaba the day of the Pilgrim rites. Manifest came upon her that which debars women.

She returned by the road and said, “O Lord of Glory, I have rolled along this road seven years.”

When I had undergone days in mortifi cation such as this, He dropped in my path a thorn such as this!

Either give me, in my home, peace, Or otherwise admit me to Th ine.”

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 139 So long as there is no lover like Rabīa, Who might experience the Power of the Master of the Event? As soon as you become the meddler in this ocean, Waves will rise, pushing you back and gathering you forward in their embrace. Sometimes they’ll repulse you from the Kaba’s front; Sometimes within the Temple of the infi del secrets to divulge. If from this whirlpool you can lift yourself out, Every moment you will increase in collectedness [union with God]. But if in this maelstrom you stay caught, Your head’ll be revolving as fast as a millstone. You’ll fi nd no hint for a moment of concentration’s composure; Your time [with God] will be, by even a single fl y, distracted.57 Aft er many fruitless att empts to make pilgrimage to Mecca, Rabīa fi nally reaches her destination. But just as she is about to circumambulate the Kaba, her menstrual fl ow begins, forcing her to abort yet another att empt at fulfi lling her religious duty. Rather than disparage Rabīa for menstruating, ibn Att ār celebrates her and makes her fl ow an opportunity to teach all Sufi s a les- son about the symbolism of impurity. Although Rabīa was unable to perform her religious obligation because of her physical impurity, she retains her unique status among lovers of God, demonstrating that any Sufi — male or female — can become derailed from their pilgrimage to God because of the impurity of extraneous thoughts,58 but that purity of soul and mind, rather than purity of body are the prerequisites for spiritual success in Sufi sm.

Sufi s as Wives and Mothers Not only did female mystics menstruate but not all women followed Rabīa’s model of celibacy and extreme asceticism. Many women devoted themselves to God while wives and mothers.59 For example, Sarī-as-Saqatī (d. c. 867) had a son; Fātima of Nishapur (d. 849) may have infl uenced her husband’s spiritual path;60 and Rabah al Qays’ wife would adorn herself in the evening and inquire if he desired her — if not she would resume her prayer vigil. Later Sufi s, such as ibn Abbās, advocated marriage as part of the Sufi path, for women

140 · Islam and Christianity as for men, stating that the “asceticism of the ascetic is incomplete until he marries.”

overcoming obstacles

Just as women in Christianity enjoyed greater involvement in church ritual before the full organization of the church, and Jewish women functioned more actively in the ancient synagogue, women in Islam enjoyed greater freedom in the developing periods of Islam than during the medieval and modern period.61 For example, as-Sulamī’s recently rediscovered tenth-century biography of Sufi women is fi lled with accounts of Sufi women who were the spiritual equals or bett ers of men. Once Sufi sm was institutionalized, however, women were pushed to the periphery and were oft en only portrayed as either facilitators of or obstacles to men’s spirituality.62 Although the Sufi path may have become more diffi cult for female Mus- lims, they were not formally denied access. In contrast to the silence in medieval Jewish sources, there is evidence of Muslim women’s active participation in Islamic mysticism. Indeed many persevered and found willing teachers. Beginning in the twelft h century, women began to establish their own con- vents throughout the Muslim world. Th ese ribats provided shelter and education for independent women (such as those who had divorced or been widowed) who stood outside the established status quo. Some were led by well-educated shaykhas, who instructed the inhabitants in Islamic law and, in some cases, Sufi sm.63 In addition, several male Sufi teachers taught women independently. Th e Andalusian mystic Muh. yi l-Dīn ibn al-Arabī (1165–1240), championed women’s spiritual opportunities, and his teachings continue to facilitate women’s involvement in Sufi sm today. Ibn al-Arabī believed that women could reach the highest levels of sanctity and that the sakina, an aura of spirituality, would rest upon both men and women alike.64 Ibn al-Arabī taught both women and men. Indeed, of the fi eenft people to whom he gave a khirqa (Sufi robe), fourteen were women.65 Moreover, he argues that menstruating women should engage in mystical prayer because women are precluded from salāt. Ibn al-Arabī‘s appreciation of women may be a result of the great infl u- ence women had over his own spiritual path. His wife had mystical aspirations; two of his own teachers, Shams and Fātima of Cordova were women; and the beautiful Nizam inspired him to write his Th e Interpreter of Desires, a

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 141 collection of mystical love poetry in which he describes compassion as the feminine element in God.66 Ibn al-Arabī‘s appreciation of women has current resonances because the contemporary Syrian Sufi Qadiri Shaykhah instructs her menstruating female disciples to perform the minor ablutions and to participate in the dhikr “according to the school of ibn al-Arabī.”67 Modern Muslim women are still able to devote themselves to Sufi orders, albeit oft en not in as exalted a position as men. Many women are att ached to Sufi houses without becoming full members, and orders do exist — such as the Khalwatī-Jarrāhī and the Bektāshī in Turkey and the Darqawī in Morocco — that allow women full membership. In the case of the Darqawī, women may also hold offi ces.68 And perhaps in response to the decrease of opportunities in Sufi sm, women have developed alternate forms of devotion, such as veneration at saint’s shrines.

Th e unique nature of the Islamic purity system facilitated the development of female spirituality in two major ways. First, all Muslims — male and female — undulate daily from states of impurity to purity. In a religion in which pollution and purifi cation form, according to Katz, “the background rhythm of ritual life,” menstrual impurity carries no special stigma.69 It is neither contagious nor dangerous. It is but one type of pollution. Second, because all impure Muslims are barred from ritual prayer, alternate forms of devotion are necessary to enable the ritually impure faithful to express their love of God. When the Qurānic prescription to remember God, dhikr, became one of the essential pillars of Sufi practice, women could pursue the mystical path in all physical states because the prayer was not limited to any time, place, or purity status. Indeed, ibn al-Arabī believed that menstruating women should engage in mystical pursuits precisely because they are precluded from ritual prayer. Menstruating women are neither polluted nor are their words taboo to God. Ritual purity is a lens through which one can see the diff erences between Sufi sm and Jewish mysticism. Although Jewish mystics and Muslim mystics may share similar goals, defi ned as gnosis or divine union, their means of achieving that goal is contextualized by their cultural experiences. Jewish mysticism developed aft er the destruction of the Temple, when Jews had neither a national homeland nor a religious center of worship. Jewish mystics imagined a meta-Temple in which they could envision God and engage in heavenly liturgy, and they transposed the purity requirements of the terres-

142 · Islam and Christianity trial Temple to the heavenly realm. When this heavenly Temple became a leitmotif in medieval mysticism, menstruating women were denied entry. Sufi sm, by contrast, developed in an age when Islam was the dominant religious and political force. Indeed, several scholars believe that the asceticism of early Sufi sm was a reaction to Islam’s territorial expansionism. Early Sufi s desired to fl ee the physical world rather than to transpose its strictures to another realm. Moreover, in addition to its political power, Islam has a re ligious center, the Kaba. Given that pilgrimage to the Kaba is a pillar of Islam incumbent upon all Muslims, and circumambulation can only be achieved in a state of physical purity, Sufi s may have felt that they could more freely aff ord to divorce themselves from physical symbols. In contrast to the Temple-centeredness of Jewish mysticism, early dhikr devotion was not confi ned to any time or space, nor was it framed as some type of celestial Kaba.70 In other words, it is as if the existence of a physical religious center with at- tendant demands for physical purity diminished the need for physical purity in purely spiritual worship. Th e goal of the Sufi is to abandon the physical world in an eff ort to achieve fanā, the complete annihilation of the self into the divine — an ecstatic state not defi ned as a celestial Kaba, because the physical one still stands. Remembering God’s manifold name alone is suffi - cient to transform a soul unencumbered by physical concerns to a state where assimilation to the divine is possible.

Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm · 143 9 Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity

introduction

Rabbinic Judaism and Christianity emerge as siblings from a common parent — Israelite religion. Th e rituals that Jews and Christians derived from the Temple cult not only throw light on their diff erences but also underscore that which matt ered most to each culture. Early Christians conceived of themselves as the “true” Israel and as such had to respond to their cultic heritage. Paul encouraged Gentiles to abandon outward ritual acts and serve God through faith alone. Consequently, many church theologians abandoned levitical laws completely and used the story of the woman with a fl ux to prove Christian indiff erence to Jewish purity laws (Mark 5:25–34, Matt hew 9:20–22, and Luke 8:42–48). Patristic exegetes rarely commented on Leviticus.1 Menstrual taboos, however, remained entrenched in Christian imagination and, like their Jewish contemporaries, some Christian legists adapted levitical purity laws to conditions of a post-Temple world. Like many Jews, these Christians distinguished between the prohibition against engaging in sexual relations with a menstruating woman (Lev. 18:19) and the perceived need to separate menstruants from the sacred (Lev. 15). Oft en, Christian legists focused on one or the other. Some theologians fashioned the church as the true Temple and transposed the Temple purity requirements of the menstruant and the parturient to the church. Others maintained the sexual prohibition against engaging in sexual relations with menstruants and ignored the purity stipulations. Th ese two strands wove their way through Christian law and penitential literature through the eleventh century.2 Close analysis of Christian rationales for menstrual separation throws light on an essential diff erence between rabbinic Judaism and Christianity. Where the rabbis advertise maintaining abstention to enhance marital libido,3 Chris-

144 tians advocate menstrual separation as a means of sexual restraint. Th roughout the early Christian Middle Ages, we see an ever-increasing suspicion of sexuality in general and a concomitant exaltation of virginity. Priestly celibacy — mandated by the fourth-century Council of Elvira — was actively required of the clergy during widespread church reforms of the eleventh century. Th ese Gregorian reforms divided the Latin West into two classes in relation to the divine: celibates who could lead Christian ritual and achieve spiritual heights, and the rest of the population who could not. Virginity — real or reclaimed — became prerequisite to spiritual success, and concupiscence — rather than physical impurity — became antithetical to the sacred. But rather than ignoring ritual purity, the medieval Latin church broadened its scope and redefi ned impurity as lust. Menstruation, a natural bodily purgation, was no longer a barrier to the sancta. Th is new att itude toward menstruation contributed to Christian women’s spiritual opportunities. Th e lenient treatment of menstruants in twelft h- century Bible commentaries, theological treatises, and canon law coincides with the fl owering of female mysticism in Western Europe. At the very moment that menstruants were unhesitatingly permitt ed church entrance, parturients were encouraged to undergo the new ritual of churching. Chastity was the new purity. separating menstruants from the sacred

While early Christians may have used the Gospel story of the woman with the fl ux to announce their indiff erence to Jewish purity laws,4 menstrual taboos nonetheless remained fi xed in the imaginations of many early adherents and were manifested in two distinct ways: some Christians avoided engaging in sexual relations with menstruants; others distanced menstruants from the sacred sites and sacred rituals. Just as menstruants were deemed invalid for ritual activity and barred from the Jerusalem Temple, some members of the true Israel barred menstruants from its contemporary incarnation Ecclesia in the early Middle Ages.

Church as Temple Aft er the Christianization of the empire in 329, Christians reimagined Pales- tine as terra sancta. Th e term holy became the most common adjective used to

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 145 describe Palestinian pilgrimage sites, religious fi gures,and sanctuaries, and Christians transposed Temple art, architecture, and symbols to churches.5 Indeed, Branham suggests that church chancel screens were developed to respond to the hierarchical structure of the Jerusalem Temple: the altar area where the Christian priest gave the Eucharist was separated from the rest of the church to emulate the Holy of Holies.6 By this time, the notion of the church as Temple had already been used as a rationale to deny women church access. Dionysius, bishop of Alexandria (c. 195–264), wrote: Th e question concerning women in the time of their [menstrual] separation, whether it is proper for them when in such a condition to enter the house of God, I consider a superfl uous inquiry. For I do not think that if they were believing and pious women, they would themselves be rash enough in such a condition either to approach the holy table or to touch the body and blood of our Lord. Certainly the woman who had the discharge of blood twelve years’ standing did not touch (the Lord) Himself, but only the hem of his Garments, with a view to the cure. For to pray, however a person may be situated, and to remember the Lord, in whatever condition a person may be, and to off er up petitions for the obtaining of help, are exercises altogether blameless. But the individual who is not perfectly pure in both soul and body shall be interdicted from entering the Holy of Holies.7 Men who had a nocturnal emission, by contrast, were permitt ed to decide independently whether or not to enter a church, guided by “the testimony of their own conscience.” Dionysius’ hesitation reveals that he would prefer that ejaculants refrain from church entry, but he does not demand it; he does not equate male and female genital issue. Dionysius’ position, however, was not universal. Th e Didascalia Apostolorum, an anonymous third-century Syrian manual for church discipline, presents a very diff erent scenario. Rather than enforce menstrual separation, the author denounces women in his community who believe that they must refrain from praying, studying scripture, or from taking the Eucharist during the seven days of their fl ow.8 Despite the Didascalia’s protestation, however, laws prohibiting menstruants access to the sancta persisted in the Eastern church throughout the Middle Ages and were later adopted by the Orthodox Slavs.9 Indeed, Byzantine churches architecturally

146 · Islam and Christianity reinforced women’s separation from the sacred through the construction of side aisles and second-story galleries.10 In the West, by contrast, the status of menstruants and the sacred wavered between the very diff erent opinions att ributed to Pope Gregory in the Libel- lus Responsionum, writt en to Archbishop Augustine of Canterbury in 601, and that of Augustine’s successor, Archbishop Th eodore.11 Pope Gregory had sent Archbishop Augustine to England to convert the pagan Anglo-Saxons and to encourage the few existing British Christians (residing in what is now Devon and Cornwall) to conform to Roman Catholic custom. Upon arrival, Augustine found that menstruants, parturients, and ejaculants would neither enter a church nor receive communion, and ejaculant priests would not perform the mass.12 Unfamiliar with these practices that were likely informed by Irish customs, Augustine asked the pope for advice, and Gregory the Great purportedly responded with the Libellus Responsionum. Th e most popular account of the ruling is found in Bede’s Ecclesiastical History.13 For our purposes, we will focus on Augustine’s eighth (multi-part) question to the pope: 1. Should a pregnant woman be baptized? 2. And when a child has been born, how much time should elapse before she can enter the church? 3. And aft er how many days may the child receive the sacrament of baptism so as to forestall its possible death; 4. And aft er what length of time may her husband have intercourse with her; 5. And is it lawful for her to enter the church if she is in her periods or to receive the sacrament of holy communion? All these things the ignorant English people need to know. Of these fi ve items, all but one (4) deal with the relationship between impurity and the sacred. Gregory’s method of interpreting Leviticus in his response hinges on his ambivalence toward sexuality.14 Fundamentally, he establishes a strict dichotomy between the body and the spirit. When church access is at question, he contrasts the literal interpretation of Leviticus with a more fi gurative reading. When he construes levitical impurity to be rooted in sexuality, he off ers a literal interpretation of the Old Testament. Leviticus de- crees parturients forbidden both to their husbands and to the Temple. Greg- ory reads the Temple interdiction fi guratively and the sexual prohibition literally: parturients are to be considered pure with regard to the sancta — ‘even

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 147 at the very hour of her delivery, for the purpose of giving thanks’ — but they are forbidden to their husbands until a baby is weaned. Th e dichotomy between the sexual and the sacred undergirds Gregory’s treatment of menstruants as well. In his answer to item 5, he states: For apart from childbirth, women are forbidden from intercourse with their husbands during their ordinary periods; so much that the sacred law condemned to death anyone who approached a menstruous woman. Nevertheless (5) a woman must not be prohibited from entering a church during her usual periods, for this natural overfl owing cannot be reckoned a crime; and so it is not fair that she should be deprived from entering a church for that which she suff ers unwillingly. For we know that the woman who was suff ering from the issue of blood humbly came behind the Lord’s back and touched the hem of his garment and immediately her infi rmity left her. So if she, when she had an issue of blood could touch the Lord’s garment and win commendation, why then is it not lawful for a woman in her periods to enter the Lord’s church?” . . . A woman ought not to be forbidden to receive the mystery of Holy Communion at these times. If, out of deep reverence she does not venture to receive it, that is praiseworthy; but if she has received it she is not to be judged . . . A woman’s periods are not sinful, because they happen naturally. But nevertheless, because our nature is itself so depraved it appears to be polluted without the consent of the will, the depravity arises from sin and human nature itself recognizes its depravity to be a judgment upon it; so mankind having willfully committ ed sin must bear the guilt of sin unwillingly. Let women make up their own minds and if they do not venture to approach the sacrament of the Body and the Blood of the Lord when in their periods, they are to be praised for their thinking; but when as the result of the habits of a religious life, they are carried away by the same mystery, as we have said before. For even in the Old Testament it is the outward deeds that are observed so in the New Testament careful heed is paid not so much to what is done outwardly as to what is thought inwardly . . . Why should that which a pure-minded woman endures from natural causes be imputed to her as uncleanness.15 Describing menstruation neutrally as a natural physiological process that is free of the stain of concupiscence,16 Gregory prohibits sexual relations during menstruation but allows menstruants church access.17 He is ambivalent about communion but leaves women to their own discretion.

148 · Islam and Christianity Gregory is consistent that concupiscence rather than physical impurity is the impediment to the sacred in his discussion of ejaculants in intercourse, urging them to wash before entering a church and admonishing that “even when washed he ought not to enter immediately.” He explains: Now the law commanded the ancient people that when a man had intercourse with a woman he ought to wash himself and should not enter the church before sunset (Lev 15:16); but this can be understood in a spiritual sense. A man has intercourse with a woman when his mind is united with her in thought in the delights of illicit concupiscence, so unless the fi re of concupiscence is fi rst quenched in his mind he should not consider himself worthy of the company of his brethren while he sees himself burdened by the sinfulness of depraved desire.18 Lust, rather than physical impurity, impedes ejaculants and parturients.19 Th eodore of Tarsus (602–690), Augustine’s successor in Canterbury, assumed his position aft er a devastating plague that killed all but one of the Roman church leaders in England.20 Th e pope had hoped that his new ap- pointee would ensure papal hegemony in the English church, but Th eodore did not slavishly follow the dictates of the Libellus Responsionum. In his canons, we read: Women shall not in the time of her impurity enter into a church, or communicate, neither nuns nor laywomen; if they presume [to do this] they shall fast for three weeks. In the same way shall they do a penance who enter a church before purifi cation aft er childbirth, that is, forty days.21 Th is reversal of Gregory’s opinion demands explanation. Why would a new archbishop charged with ensuring Roman custom annul or ignore the opinion of a pope? Although some scholars argue that Th eodore was unfamiliar with the Libellus and was therefore not contradicting the pope when he issued his own opinion,22 Rob Meens, who has done extensive research on Th eodore and Gregory, explains that it is highly unlikely that Th eodore of Tarsus did not know the Libellus Responsionem. He suggests that the new archbishop consciously ignored Gregory’s ruling because of the enduring infl uence of Irish customs in British Christianity and because of the infl uence of Greek customs on his personal practice.23 Th eodore was born in Tarsus in 602 and

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 149 was thoroughly entrenched in the cultural traditions of his native Greek- and Syriac-speaking world, where it was customary to bar menstruants from church ritual. Moreover, Th eodore’s approach to scripture may have infl u- enced his legal writings. Th eodore studied the Bible using the literal and philological approach of the Antiochene school popular in his native Tarsus.24 Th is approach, in vogue among Irish biblical exegetes, facilitated comparatively literal interpretations of the Leviticus holiness code.25 Firey suggests that, in the world of Th eodore, himself a philological and historical exegete . . . Christians could follow Levitical prescriptions as sacral rituals that were readily and suitably adapted in a rural, tribal, and converting culture, that still had a keen sense of the sacrality of the universe and the need for ritual negotiation of that universe.26 In contrast to Gregory, who favored an allegorical approach to scripture, Th eodore prioritized the menstrual purity prohibition over the sexual prohibition. Indeed, as Pierre Payer has observed, Th eodore mentions abstinence during the menstrual period and aft er childbirth within the context of prohibiting women church entry, rather than vice versa. Moreover, Th eodore not only forbids women church entry but mandates a three-week penance for sinners. Th ese two competing views fi ltered down into early medieval penitentials —reference manuals for spiritual leaders listing sins and their accompanying penances — and, later, into legal literature; oft en these diametrically opposed views were copied into the same manuscripts!27 Although Rob Meens has shown that ultimately, Gregory the Great’s opinion enjoyed the greater authority,28 with these two diametrically opposed traditions as legal precedents, an administer of penance or a legist in the Latin West could pick and choose, depending on his religious, legal, or social agenda.29 For example, the ninth- century Poenitentiale Vindobonene contains some of the most restrictive rul- ings regarding church access for both men and women. Meens explains that the text emphasizes church holiness — of the clergy, of the service, and of the physical structure — thus echoing the Temple cult and its att endant purity requirements. It is not surprising that a penitential writt en during the Caro- lingian reform movement, shortly aft er the installment of Charlemagne as the Holy Roman Emperor, would resurrect the notion of church as Temple. Th e purity requirements of the Temple cult made sense for the Carolingian structure.30 Th e penitential Canon of Regino of Prüm (840–915), by contrast, rec-

150 · Islam and Christianity ommends sexual abstinence during menstrual period but does not explicitly restrict menstruants’ church access. It does forbid parturients’ church access: forty days aft er giving birth to boys, eighty days aft er girls.31 Why would a penitential pick and choose between Th eodore and Greg- ory? Why would the Latin West eventually come to emphasize the prohibitions against sexual relations and the sancta yet deemphasize menstrual separation from the sacred?32 We will explore these prohibitions and their cultural contexts in the following section.

sexual relations during menstruation

Th e levitical interdictions against sexual relations with menstruants were maintained in early medieval law codes in both the eastern and far western bastions of Christendom — Byzantium and the British Isles. Orthodox canon laws forbade sexual relations with menstruants for the duration of the blood fl ow and barred menstruants from church ritual.33 Th e British and Irish churches similarly upheld the levitical interdictions against sexual relations with menstruants and recorded the interdictions in the penitentials.34 Th ese handbooks of penance also became popular on the continent. As with all legal texts, we cannot be certain whether the penitentials accurately refl ected Christian practice. Pierre Payer suggests that the “the persistence of certain regulations, selective borrowings, modifi cations made to previous canons, and new additions all indicate that the penitentials were living documents used for the practical ends which they frequently claim for themselves.”35 As such, they form the basis of early medieval sexual morality. Th e seventh-century penitential of Cummean states that He who is in a state of matrimony ought to be continent during three forty-day periods and on Saturday and on Sunday, night and day, and in the two appointed week days (Wednesdays and Friday) aft er conception, and during the entire menstrual period.36 In the tenth century, calls for abstention during menstruation most oft en appeared alongside other calls for sexual abstention during holy days. Just as Moses required the Israelites to separate for three days before receiving the Torah at Sinai, authors of penitentials declared sexual activity inappropriate during sacred times. Such categorization suggests that these menstrual prohibitions had more to do with early medieval Christian discomfort with sexuality

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 151 than with levitical nostalgia or folk fears. Where Leviticus only require abstinence aft er parturition, Latin penitentials prohibit sexual relations with pregnant women and lactating mothers, who according to received wisdom could not conceive. Th ese proscriptions appear much more frequently than those concerning menstruants.37 Indeed, such an understanding seems to have been part of the worldview on the continent, too. Gallic councils do not mention any restrictions on menstruants in the sancta. And Giselle de Nie, in her study “Contagium and Pollution in Sixth-Century Gaul,” explains that “all evidence appears to point to a concept of pollution that was primarily concerned with the spiritual ob- fuscation caused by yearnings of the flesh and the ‘contagiousness’ of this state, rather than a ‘soiling’ by organic fl uids, as in the Old Testament (Leviti- cus 15).” Gregory of Tours, in fact, refers to sexual desire as polluting and contagious,38 and Christians who engaged in church-sanctioned marital sex were required to cleanse themselves before entering a church or participating in Christian ritual.39 Th e pervasiveness of sexual prohibitions underscored to priests and con- fessants that sexuality was both dangerous and tainted by sin. Indeed, high- medieval penitentials most oft en grouped women in the sections on the seven deadly sins because of their perceived sexual danger. Church theologians permitt ed marital sex for procreation, not pleasure.40 As James Brundage explains, “since marital sex was a concession, not a right, and since pleasure was an ever-present incitement to lust, penitential writers maintained that sex in marriage must be strictly scheduled and closely monitored.”41 In his Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, Brundage calculated that an observant couple who took advantage of every possible intimate opportunity would be able to engage in sexual relations “slightly more than once a week, on average, over a three-year period.”42 In contrast to rabbinic texts that advocated menstrual separation to enhance male libido, the Christian penitential of St. Finnian (525–550) maintained that without periods of marital separations marriage “lacked legitimacy and degenerated into sin.”43 Th e infl uence of private penitentials begins to wane during the Carolin- gian church reforms of the ninth century. Charlemagne sought to centralize ecclesiastical and political authority by encouraging uniform practices sanctioned by ecclesiastical authorities. Th e Council of Châlons (813) and the Council of Paris (829) condemned the use of private penitentials and urged bishops to burn them lest “unskilled priests deceive men further through

152 · Islam and Christianity them.”44 Th e few church-sanctioned penitentials composed during the ninth century drew from the Bible and patristic sources, rather than from local customs.45

Summa for Confessors Th e pastoral use of penitential literature continued to wane throughout the tenth, eleventh, and twelft h centuries as the church shift ed its favor to canon law.46 Th ere was, however, a second wave of penitential activity during the thirteenth century. Th e Fourth Lateran Council (1215) required all Catholics to confess their sins annually,47 but parish priests were unaccustomed to hearing private confessions and administering penance. To guide priests with their newly charged task, scholastic theologians composed pastoral guides. Th ese compilations diff ered from their early-medieval counterparts in their scope and emphasis. Rather than slavishly copying old traditions, the authors of the penitential compendia (summa confessorum) reevaluated early medieval penitentials to meet the needs of the post-reform ecclesiastical world. As we have seen, the early penitentials restricted almost every opportunity for marital sexual relations. Th e thirteenth-century penitentials were much more liberal: a theologian of this period had to provide some justifi cation for prohibiting marital sexuality.48 Th e new penitential manuals rationalized abstaining from conjugal relations with menstruating women on the basis of potential medical risks to the fetus, risks “newly rediscovered” in recent translations of Greek medical literature.49 Moreover, many texts (especially those writt en aft er 1215) advise rather than require abstention during menstruation. For example, Robert of Flamborough, the administer of penance at the Abbey of Saint Victor outside Paris, wrote a manual entitled the Liber Poenitentialis, (Th e Book of Penance) to teach other priests how to grant absolution for sins in 1210.50 In it, he explains that men should abstain from sexual relations with menstruating women because

[e]ach month the heavy and torpid bodies of women are lightened by the fl owing of unclean blood. And if a man has intercourse with a woman at this time, those conceived by this union are said to carry the vice of the seed with them, and so lepers and those affl icted with elephantiasis are born from this conception, and soundness degenerates, having been corrupted by the enormity of limbs and the baseness in the bodies of them.

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 153 Th erefore it is ordered, not only in the case of other women but also in the case of their own — to whom they appear to be married — that they know the fi xed times of intercourse, when there must be conjoining and when there must be abstaining from their wives.51

Th omas of Chobham (b. c. 1160), in his confessional manual writt en in 1215, similarly warns against having sexual relations with pregnant women and menstruants because of the potential risks to the fetus. In Summa Confessione, Peter of Poitiers (d. aft er 1216) warns priests that menstruating women could infect their husbands and children with leprosy.52 Peter also mentions that Jews do not frequently get leprosy because they do not approach menstruating women.53 Sexually transmitt ed diseases were oft en associated with leprosy in the Middle Ages, thus sexual permissiveness — defi ned here as sexual relations with menstruants — could also be said to lead to leprosy, redefi ned as syphilis.54 Th e authors of these new confessional manuals were not unique in their recourse to Greek natural philosophy. Th e canon lawyer Rufi nus had previ- ously justifi ed abstention from sexual relations with menstruants on the basis of Greek medicine. In his Summa Decretorum, writt en between 1157 and 1159 CE, Rufi nus wrote:

And in fact this blood is so execrable and unclean, as already Julius Soli- nus has writt en in the book about the marvels of the world, that through contact with it fruits do not produce, wine turns sour, plants die, trees lack fruit, the air darkens; if dogs eat [the blood], they are made wild by madness. . . . Indeed is desire kept away not only because of the uncleanness of the menstrual fl ow, but also lest a defective progeny is born from that intercourse.”55

Nevertheless, Rufi nus does not forbidsexual relations with menstruants absolutely,56 but rather — as would the later summae confessorum — he warns against its dangers, drawing upon medical theories to posit menstrual blood as a poisonous substance that can engender a “spoiled fetus.”57 Rufi nus’s att ribution of Solinus as the source of his medical theories is particularly noteworthy because there were more immediate Christian sources at his disposal.58 Solinus’s ideas came to Christian Europe via Isidore, Bishop of Seville (d. 636). In his Etymologies, Isidore wrote:59

154 · Islam and Christianity Th e menstrual fl ow is a woman’s superfl uous blood: it is termed “menstrual,” because of the phase of the moon by which this fl ow comes about. Th e moon is called mēnē in Greek. Th ese are also called the “womanlies” (muliebria), for women are the only menstruating animal. On contact with this blood, crops do not germinate, new wines go sour, grasses die, trees lose their fruit, iron is corrupted by rust, air and copper are blackened; which should dogs eat of it, they are made rabid. Even bituminous glue, which is dissolved neither by iron nor by [strong] waters, polluted by this gore, falls apart by itself.60

Neither Isidore nor Solinus mentioned the association between leprosy and menstruation, though Jerome (b. 346), church father, Bible translator and exegete, introduced that notion to Christians in his commentary to Eze- kiel 18. Jerome wrote that if a man has intercourse with a woman during her period, the fetuses that are conceived draw on the defects of the semen: “Th e result is that lepers and those with elephantiasis are born from the conception. Th e corrupted blood causes the foul bodies in both sexes to degenerate with deformity of the members in number and size.”61 Jerome’s interpretation was certainly known in the Latin West.62 But Rufi nus’s appeal to newly discovered Greek and Roman medicine, rather than extant Latin Christian sources, speaks to a conscious att empt to justify menstrual separation on the basis of medical science — a hallmark of thirteenth-century summa confessorum menstrual prohibitions. Because of the att endant danger to the fetus, abstinence during menstruation was believed to be a necessity, a “moral obligation,” rather than a vestige of Old Tes- tament purity rituals.63 Yet even given these potential medical risks, the Dominican friar Ray- mond of Peñafort does not mention sexual relations with menstruants in his Summa on Marriage (writt en aft er 1234).64 And John of Freiburg states that while one should not ask for sexual relations with menstruants, if a spouse demands sexual relations, the other spouse is duty-bound to comply.65 In- deed, throughout the twelft h and thirteenth centuries, we see a gradual loosening of the bonds of menstrual laws in favor of satisfying the marriage debt, that is, the duty of both husbands and wives to fulfi ll each other sexually.66 In the High Middle Ages, the requirements for menstrual separation transformed in the medieval church. Sexual relations between a husband and a

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 155 menstruating wife were medically unadvisable but not religiously forbidden, and, with the exception of Th omas of Chobham’s, no well-known thirteenth- century penitential text barred menstruants from access to the sancta.67 Sexu- ality, rather than menstrual impurity, barred one from the sacred precincts. As Robert of Flamborough explains in his confessional manual:

Whoever has rendered what is owed to his wife cannot be free for prayer, nor eat of the fl esh of the lamb. Likewise, if the bread of the Temple off erings could not be eaten by those who had touched their wives (Leviticus 7:20; 15:16–18), so much more is it the case that the bread that descended from heaven cannot be violated and polluted by those who a short time before had clung to conjugal embraces. Not because we condemn marriage, but because at this time when we are about to eat the fl esh of the lamb, we should be free of the fl esh.68 impurity redefined

Th e spiritual and sexual opportunities of menstruants improved at precisely the same moment that celibacy became the sine qua non for spiritual pursuits. Th e loosening of the purity restrictions against menstruants and the concomitant distrust of sexuality with regard to the sancta must be viewed within the context of the Gregorian Reform Movement and its aft ermath. Th at is not to say that Christian ambivalence toward sexuality was unique to the medieval Latin West. Th e esteem many medieval Christians felt for virginity went to Christianity’s inception and survives among many Christians today.69 Yet celibacy was not an absolute requirement for clergy until 1123. Th is clerical sexual revolution was the result of the Gregorian Reforms, a movement that undergirded the major theological and intellectual endeavors of the twelft h century, including the Glossa Ordinaria and Gratian’s Decretum. Th ese, in turn, aff ected the social and religious lives of medieval women.

Church Reform Aft er years of subjugation to feudal lords, clerics in the eleventh century undertook a series of reforms to assert church authority and to revitalize Christian spirituality throughout the Latin West. Toward this end, reformers

156 · Islam and Christianity emphasized that clergy were uniquely qualifi ed to serve as mediators between God and man. Th is sacerdotalist agenda led to the creation of an even stricter dichotomy between the clergy and the laity as reformers sought to purify the church from all things tainted by the secular world. Th ey ultimately divided Christians into two categories: those who served God and everyone else. Th ey established new monastic orders and outlawed simony, lay investiture, clerical marriage, and concubinage. Just as Ezra had required the returning Israelites to cast away their pagan wives, clergy across Europe abandoned their wives, children, and concubines to starvation, prostitution, or death.70 Th ese clerical reforms initiated two apparently contradictory trends. On the one hand, we fi nd that virginity — ever venerated — was elevated to an even more exalted level; on the other hand, allowances for marital sex — including sexual relations with menstruating women — increased dramatically. Th is apparent contradiction was part of the reformers’ deliberate att empt to create a bifurcated society. According to Dyan Elliot, “lay chastity, whether heretical or orthodox, had the potential to challenge the structure of Christian society. It was necessary to defl ect the laity from too rigid an imitation of the theological model of marriage.”71 Th e eleventh-century reforms were brought to fruition during the twelft h. Th e reformers’ agenda could only succeed if enforced through educational and legal change, so twelft h-century scholars organized the diverse biblical interpretations, legal opinions, and theological notions received from their forebears and systematized them into a unifi ed whole, thereby creating a Christian truth for a Christian world. Biblical exegetes compiled the Glossa Ordinaria, a running commentary on the entire Hebrew Bible and New Testament that became the standard for all subsequent Bible studies. Th eologians, most notably Peter Lombard, collected a myriad of theological opinions and organized them into a four-volume compendium of Christian theology entitled Th e Four Books of Sentences (Libri Quatt uor Sententiarum). And most famous of all, in legal studies, Gratian wrote his Harmony of Discordant Canons, the consummate textbook of canon law. Th e Glossa Ordinaria, the Sentences of Peter Lombard, and Gratian’s Decretum formed the basis of Catholic studies until modern times, and they are particularly important for our understanding of menstruation. Because of their enduring infl uence and popularity, their interpretation of menstruation and female impurity had a profound eff ect on women’s social and spiritual lives.

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 157 systematizing scripture: the glossa ordinaria Early Medieval Exegesis of Leviticus 15 Th e Glossa Ordinaria is a running commentary on the Old and New Tes- taments derived from earlier Christian exegesis. However, there were few sources from which the Glossa could derive its exegesis of Leviticus. Many church fathers wrote commentaries on the Old Testament, but few devoted their time to Leviticus because they considered literal and rational interpretations of the priestly laws impossible. Neither Augustine nor Gregory nor Jerome nor Ambrose devoted an exclusive commentary on Leviticus. Th e few early church fathers who did comment on the book treated impurity allegorically as a metaphor for sin and considered the need for ritual immersion aft er physical impurity superfl uous aft er baptism.72 Th us the authors of the Glossa Ordinaria looked to the eff orts of early medieval biblical scholars. An anonymous early medieval interpretation of Leviticus 15, erroneously att ributed to Bede, off ers an entirely allegorical interpretation.73 Th e author understands the zav as a man who does not know how to impose a limit on his words. Playing on the double meaning of seed, the text explains that “the sermon of evangelical doctrine is a good seed which grows in the hearts of listeners in good ground,” whereas evil teaching (symbolized by the zav’s un- controlled fl ux) is bad seed which the evil man sows. Just as the man with fl ux pollutes, those who have been touched by his teachings are also polluted and must be cleansed. Th e commentary similarly allegorizes the ejaculant as one polluted by sexual concupiscence. Such a man is unclean “all the way until evening (Lev 15:16)” because just as “evening is the end of the day, and the beginning of the night, thus also punishment is the end of empty happiness and the beginning of salubrious sadness.” Th e commentary’s interpretation of the menstruant is the most extraordinary. Th e niddah refers not to women but “to men eff eminated by women,” that is, to men who have lost their virility to women because of their sexual desire: For anyone eff eminated by women has nothing virile in himself and when the time of desire returns he discharges blood, that is, if he had anything good, he loses it through negligence, and he is separated for seven days, in order for him to recognize that he is subject to seven demons. “[If the blood of desire ceases] aft er seven days have been counted, let him who

158 · Islam and Christianity has been cured be found as if purged on the eighth day by the received grace of the seven-fold spirit.”

Th e zavah (a woman with an uncontrollable blood fl ow) is similarly construed as a man who does not reign in his passion.74 Rabanus of Mainz (Hrabanus Maurus c. 780–856), abbot of Fulda and bishop of Mainz, was the most infl uential source for later exegesis on Leviti- cus. One of the most educated and prolifi c churchmen of the Carolingian Re- naissance, Rabanus reworked and “updated” Isidore of Seville’s Etymologies in his twenty-two volume De Rerum Naturis (On the Nature of Th ings). Rabanus reinterprets Isidore’s aforementioned “scientifi c” understanding of menstrual blood using the allegorical mode of Bede and, in so doing, advocates a spiritual observance of Lev. 20:18.75

[By] allegory the fl ow of blood can be understood as the obscenity of idolatry, and the pollution of errors. And in this way the time of menstruation is to be understood to be that time in which the entire world was involved in error and idolatry. And it is not permitt ed to approach a menstruating woman, nor to have intercourse with her; because neither is it permitt ed to Catholic men to have commerce with the idolatry of pagans or the heresy of heretics.76

Isidore had expatiated upon dangers of menstrual blood; Rabanus construes the physical blood fl ow as a symbol for idolatry. In transvaluing physical impurity from an external physical state to an internal spiritual state of being, his approach foreshadowed an interpretive trend that would become popular during the twelft h-century Renaissance.77 Rabanus also wrote a complete commentary on Leviticus as part of a comprehensive exegesis on the Pentateuch.78 Carolingian exegetes typically wove their own commentary onto a matrix of patristic works, acknowledg- ing sources — or not — as they saw fi t. Rabanus, however, had litt le exegetical material from which to draw for Leviticus, outside of works by Origen and Hesychius of Jerusalem. Instead, he depended on his own experience as abbot of Fulda, encyclopedist, and penitentialist to recast Leviticus as a penitential text. Th en, in contrast to earlier Irish penitentials, he allegorized the impurities delineated in Leviticus as symbols for the seven deadly sins.79 Rabanus’s work was not immediately popular although it would become so. It was his commentary that became the basis for the Glossa Ordinaria on Leviticus.

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 159 Th e Glossa Ordinaria Th e monastic exegeses of Rabanus and his fellow Carolingians were encyclo- pedic, but also verbose and poorly organized, making easy referencing nearly impossible. In an eff ort to create more eff ective teaching tools, Bible scholars in the cathedral schools of the eleventh and twelft h centuries reconfi gured and systematized these earlier commentaries into running glosses. Th e Glossa Ordinaria, a straightforward and concise commentary with complementary and oft en distinct interlinear explanations, was the most famous and infl uential of these endeavors.80 Oft en known as “the Gloss,” the Glossa Ordinaria became the defi nitive biblical commentary throughout the Middle Ages. Rabanus’s interpretation of menstrual impurity, as refl ected in theGlossa , became the standard interpretation throughout the Latin West and had far- reaching infl uences. Anselm of Laon was likely the guiding force behind the Glossa Ordinaria. Given his many obligations as master of the cathedral school, he was unable to complete the entire gloss and entrusted large sections to his students. Th e commentary on the Pentateuch went to Gilbert the Universal (d. 1134), who earned his soubriquet because of his breadth of knowledge.81 Given the dearth of exegesis on Leviticus, Gilbert interspersed his own observations amid a nearly verbatim rendering of Rabanus’s allegorical commentary. Th e Glossa on Leviticus 15:19, Leviticus 20:18, and Genesis 31:35 shed a great deal of light on medieval exegesis in general and att itudes toward menstruation in particular. Medieval Christian exegetes generally employed a four- fold method of interpretation — literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogical. Early Christian exegetes had claimed that literal interpretation of Leviticus was impossible. Th e Glossa, however, uses the literal aspect of menstruation to curb sexual desire. Otherwise, it interprets menstruation symbolically, as an allegory for sin and idolatry or as a mark of humility and a characteristic of ecclesia.

Menstrual Laws as a Temporary Cure for Concupiscence Th e connection between menstruation and libido contributes to a common theme in the Glossa Ordinaria. One explanation of Leviticus 15:19 interprets menstruation literally as an occasion to speak about something more important than itself. Th e Gloss understands that God generously prescribes a

160 · Islam and Christianity seven-day period of conjugal separation during a women’s menstrual period to help men and women curb their lust. Th e author substantiates his interpretation with a Christianized perspective on Jewish practice: “Th e Jew in the fl esh was able to be helped though this law.” oughTh diametrically opposed to the talmudic justifi cation forretaining menstrual separation aft er the destruction of the Temple, this Christianized perspective suggests Christian familiarity with Jewish practice.82 Th e gloss on Leviticus 20:18 — ‘If a man lies with a woman in her infi rmity and uncovers her nakedness, he has laid bare her fl ow; both of them shall be cut off from among their people’ — also uses menstrual prohibitions to promote sexual abstinence more explicitly, stating that “the legislator intends to persuade chastity; that we not continually mingle with men and women in the manner of beasts; but that, as if compelled, we come to the practice of continence litt le by litt le.”

Menstruation as Sin and Idolatry Alongside the literal use of menstruation to curb sexual appetite, the Glossa off ers another interpretation of Leviticus 15:19, and this one treats the menstruant symbolically, as an eff eminate soul polluted by base thoughts. Just as the menstruant in Leviticus is rendered ritually impure independent of any physical act — or in the words of the gloss, “the menstruant pollutes herself by herself” — a soul becomes polluted by merely entertaining evil thoughts. Menstrual impurity signifi es that “evil thoughts and volitions need not be completed by work; in the eyes of God, they are considered as deeds and punished.” Another opinion understands the menstrual fl ow as idolatry and the seven- day fl ow of the menstruant as a metaphor for the ages of man “all the way to completion.” In so doing, the Glossa graft s an Augustinian eschatological scheme onto the imposed period of separation of the menstruant. Augustine of Hippo believed that the there were six ages of man and a seventh age of salvation before the eschaton. Just as menstrual blood fl ows for seven days, idolatry will fl ow through the seven ages of man until the end time. eTh Bible’s exhortation to separate from menstruants should be understood allegorically as the need to separate from idolatry, idolaters, and their supporters. Th e levitical warning not to touch vessels, chairs, or beds that menstruants had sat on or slept in similarly signifi es the need to steer clear of any idolatrous accoutrements.

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 161 Th e gloss on Leviticus 20:18 also off ers a symbolic interpretation to com- plement the literal one, and it similarly construes the “menstruant” as the “whole error of idolatry and sacrifi ces” and “the wisdom of the Gentiles.” Just as the holiness code punishes a couple engaging in sexual relations during menstruation with karet (cutt ing off ), a man who approaches idolatry “will be killed in the midst of his people, lest he be called a man who has alienated images of God by ignoring the creator. And she too will be killed, lest it be called wisdom; because the wisdom of this world is stupidity in the eyes of God.”

Ecclesia as Menstruant Th e gloss on Rachel hiding Laban’s idols (Genesis 31:35), a narrative rather than a legal passage, off ers an interesting twist on the interpretation of menstruation. Rachel sits on her father’s idols while he greedily scours her tent for his material goods. While “nature teaches that children should rise before their parents,” Rachel excuses herself for remaining seated upon her father’s entry by stating that “the way of women is upon me.” Unlike in the legal passages discussed above, the Glossa Ordinaria does not relate this phrase in any way to sexual abstinence. Nor does the text choose to suggest that menstruating Rachel is incapacitated in any way. On the contrary, although the gloss explains that by this phrase “she indicates that she is menstruating,” the authors do not understand this physiological state in negative terms. Rather, they extol the menstruating Rachel and see her as a symbol of the church. Rachel seated — a mark of her humility and penitence — covers the idols, as the church “covers the vice of terrestrial concupiscence through the humility of penitence.” Th us menstruating Rachel signifi es the church, “who suppress idols by sitt ing as we condemn the guilt of avarice by penitence,” whereas Laban “follows the uncleanness of avarice as if menstruating.” Father Laban, therefore, is the true menstruant. Spiritual impurity, rather than female biology, is the source of sin and censure. Th e Glossa Ordinaria on Leviticus strips menstruation of its physiological origins and cultic associations to make it a means to restrain libido and a ci- pher for idolatry and heresy. In neither case is menstrual impurity itself a problem, and it is certainly not a mark of demonic possession. Indeed, the story of Rachel and the idols in Genesis does not relate in any way to sexual abstention, nor does it describe the menstruating Rachel as idolatrous. Rather

162 · Islam and Christianity than demonize Rachel and her fl ow, theGlossa valorizes her. Rachel the menstruant is recognized as the symbol of ecclesia and a model of humility and virtue for all to follow. During this age of systematization, the physiological state of menstruation is transformed into a state of humility characteristic of the church, and libido and heresy become the true pollutants.

the glossa ordinaria’s partner: the historia scholastica Peter Comestor (d. 1178), a Paris master who became chancellor of Notre Dame, took a diff erent approach in his Historia Scholastica, a summary of biblical history used alongside the Glossa Ordinaria as a study aid in cathedral schools and universities. Although used in tandem, the two texts diff er markedly in their treatment of levitical purity laws. Where the Glossa interpreted menstruation allegorically, Comestor interpreted the Hebrew Bible — including Leviticus — literally.83 In his paraphrase of Leviticus 15, Comestor equates male and female impurity, noting that the zav and zavah were subject to the same laws of uncleanness and purifi cation because they suff ered from similar diseases.84 Menstru- ants, by contrast, need not perform any special ritual acts of purifi cation. Th ey need only wash themselves and their clothing because only “morbid states of uncleanness equivalent to sin” would require a salutary off ering.” Menstruation does not because “it is natural.”85 Comestor thus maintains the levitical distinction between the zavah and niddah, thereby off ering a more literal reading than contemporary Jewish scholars who were obligated by rabbinic tradition! Comestor, moreover, considers as logical the levitical command that men who engage in sexual relations with menstruants are impure for seven days and must wash themselves to be purifi ed, given that men and women who slept with their legitimate spouse were deemed impure until evening and needed to purify themselves.86 Comestor also describes menstruation neutrally in his commentary on Genesis 18. Sarah laughed when she heard that she would conceive a son, because

they (Abraham and Sarah) were both old and the female things of Sarah had ceased, that is, menstruation, with the cessation of which also ceases the power of giving birth.87

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 163 Menstruation for Comestor is a natural physiological process that indicates fertility. Parturition, by contrast, is tainted by its very nature. Aft er waiting for the prescribed period of purifi cation (forty days for a boy, eighty for a girl), the parturient must, according to Leviticus, off er two sacrifi ces — a one-year-old lamb as a burnt off ering and a pigeon or a turtledove as a sin off ering (12:6). Although Leviticus is silent on the rationale for the off erings, Comestor off ers that two sacrifi ce are necessary to atone for two distinct sins: that of the mother who conceived the baby in lust and that of the baby born in a state of original sin.88 Comestor associates parturition with lust and sin; menstruation, by contrast, is a natural state of being. Th e reformers’ discomfort with sexuality became a part of medieval popular imagination. Th e Glossa Ordinaria and the Historia Scholastica infl uenced both scholars and laymen because the texts provided all students of scripture with a standard Christian interpretation of the Holy Writ which they could then preach. Th e Gregorian agenda, however, was most eff ectively enforced through the resurgence and implementation of canon law. During the same period when exegetes systematized biblical commentary, many scholars created legal compendia to promote their sacerdotalist agenda. Th e most enduring of these eff orts is Gratian’s Decretum. gratian’s decretum and its precursors Eff orts to systematize canon law go back to the ninth century, and strikingly, these earlier compendia restrict menstruants. One of the fi rst att empts to reassert church control over the laity was the Libro duo de synodalibus causis et disciplinis ecclesiasticus (Th e Collection in Two Books) by Abbot Regino of Prüm (845–915). Regino divides his legal work into two separate volumes, the fi rst dedicated to the clergy and the second to the laity, thus distinguishing the two in both content and form. He forbids sexual congress with menstruants. Burchard, bishop of Worms (b. 965), completed his twenty-volume Decre- tum between 1000 and 1025. In this massive work, Burchard att empted to cover all aspects of Christian life, including confession. Although the interest in using penitential literature for pastoral work had dwindled on the continent by 1000, Burchard nonetheless set out to organize extant penitential literature for ecclesiastical use. Book 19, the manual for confessors, was the most popular section of the Decretum and was oft en copied separately under the

164 · Islam and Christianity title Th e Corrector. Burchard requires sexual abstinence during menstruation and, signifi cantly, denies menstruating nuns and laywomen access to the sancta. Th ose who dare must do penance for twenty-one days. Burchard justifi es his ruling on the basis of Archbishop Th eodore of Tarsus’s canons, thereby reinvigorating Th eodore’s waning infl uence in the Latin West.89 Bishop Ivo of Chartres compiled an even larger and more unwieldy collection of canon law, also entitled the Decretum, at the end of the eleventh century. According to the available printed sources, Ivo quotes Burchard’s Corrector on menstruants verbatim.90 Ivo’s Panormia, a shorter, more organized, and far more infl uential version of canon law, does not restrict menstruants’ access to the sacred.91 Th ese early works retain many of the limitations on sexual congress with menstruants characteristic of their penitential sources. In fact, in the early period of the reforms it is possible the reformers were so eager to distance themselves from anything sexual that they selected like-minded texts from all sources at their disposal without concern for developing an underlying rationale for their stance. Indeed, according to James Brundage, early reformers “considered sex and other pleasurable experiences tainted by evil and a potent source of sin. Th ey were not merely suspicious of sex, but hostile to any sexual activity at all, save for marital relations undertaken expressly and consciously to conceive a child. Th e reformers, even more than the penitential authors and earlier patristic authorities, were intent on limiting marital sex and on penalizing extramarital sex as severely as they could.”92 Such zeal underlies Burchard’s inclusion of strictures against menstruants that had been ignored for centuries. Despite their fervor, however, eleventh-century reformers were unable to produce one comprehensive and enduring law code. Although the reformers successfully put an end to clerical marriage, their law codes were too unwieldy, unorganized, irrational, and contradictory to be enforced in society at large. Yet reformation’s goals could only permeate Christian society by means of a coherent and organized code of canon law. In the 1140s, Gratian rose to the challenge and, in so doing, changed the history of canon law and the opportunities for Christian women in the twelft h century.93

Gratian’s Decretum In his Harmony of Discordant Canons, more commonly known as the Decre- tum, Gratian systematically organized and analyzed 3,945 canons, aligning

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 165 diverging opinions and harmonizing them to create a comprehensive code.94 His work almost immediately became the standard textbook and the point of reference for all subsequent discussions of canon law. But the text was not consigned to the ivory tower. Gratian’s Decretum touched upon almost every aspect of Christian public and private life. Because no matt er of Christian law was outside its purview, the Decretum also became an instrument for controlling the sexual practices of Christians.95 Th e church’s fear of lust and its accompanying openness to menstruation exerted its most far-reaching infl u- ences when enunciated in this most infl uential work of canon law. In contrast to Jewish sources that permit marital sexual relations in ritual purity and restrict menstruants, the Decretum is negative about sexuality in general but not in ways that restrict menstruants’ access to the church or to God.

Decretum on Human Sexuality and the Marriage Debt Infl uenced by Augustine, Gratian, like many of his contemporaries, believed that lust was the byproduct of original sin and polluting. Marital intercourse is a concession, necessary for three reasons: for procreation, to forefend adultery, and to pay the marriage debt — the duty of both husbands and wives to fulfi ll each other sexually.96 Nonetheless, any type of sexual satisfaction barred one from the sacred.97 Like the baal qeri in Leviticus, any man who had an emission of semen is charged by the Decretum to wash before entering a church or receiving the Eucharist. Th ough Gratian permitt ed sexual relations in marriage for procreation, he, like the penitentials, prescribed periods of sexual abstinence. Unlike the penitentials, Gratian subordinated the religious requirements for marital abstention to the payment of the marriage debt.98 A husband or wife should not demand sexual intercourse during forbidden times; but if one does, the other is obligated to satisfy the debt.99 In his four-volume systematization of theology, Peter Lombard (1100–1160) similarly subordinated church requirements to the marriage debt.100 Interestingly, as Pierre Payer notes, neither Gratian nor Lombard explicitly mention sexual abstention during menstruation in their discussion of marital abstention.101 Nonetheless, some later legists, such as John of Freiburg, assumed that Gratian subordinated the taboo against sexual relations with menstruants to the marriage debt as well.102 Even those scholars who understood the marriage debt more narrowly still made concessions for sexual relations

166 · Islam and Christianity during menstruation. Th e Bolognese canon lawyer Huguccio (d. 1210), who believed that all sexual relations — even for procreation — were sinful, stated that it is a mortal sin to have sexual relations with a menstruant. Th erefore, if a wife were a menstruant, a husband should not pay the marriage debt unless he believed that she would commit adultery.103 By the beginning of the thirteenth century, the church as a whole had soft - ened its stance, and this trend continued for another two hundred years. While many Dominicans believed that married couples who engaged in sexual relations during menstruation sinned, they lessened the degree of sinfulness from mortal to venial.104 Pope Innocent III upheld Gratian’s interpretations, and these views were incorporated into his collection of canon laws. As James Brundage writes, “earlier prohibitions against intercourse during pregnancy and menstruation produced a rich casuistry to deal with doubts about the practice, but most thirteenth- and fourteenth-century writers treated ritual purity as a minor issue.” Even when restrictions reappear in the moralistic literature of the fi ft eenth and sixteenth centuries, they are “low on the list of sexual off enses.”105 Th e loosening of the bonds of sexual relations for laymen occurred at the same moment that lust was vilifi ed nda virginity valorized. Sexuality became the means to distinguish between the laity and the clergy.106

Ritual Purity and the Sancta Gratian’s permissive stance on menstrual purity is inversely proportional to his att itude on sexual pollution. Menstruation is not libidinous; lust, by contrast, is the byproduct of original sin and is morally polluting. Gratian devel- ops this understanding in his discussion of natural law. He defi nes natural law as the most ancient and authoritative source of law, “contained in the law and in the gospel” and completely rational and immutable. Yet here Gratian must concede that certain practices described in the Hebrew Bible are no longer practiced. Despite changes in observances, Gratian concludes that natural law is immutable: “Natural law is contained in the Law and the Gospel, but it can be shown that not everything contained in the law and the gospel pertains to natural law. Moral precepts are immutable; symbolic precepts derived from observances are immutable; the observances themselves are not.”107 Gratian had at hand a myriad of defunct laws to prove his theory on natural law. He chose to build his argument on the levitical purity laws of the menstruant and the parturient:

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 167 For in the Law [Lev. 12:2–5] it was commanded that a woman not enter the Temple for forty days if she had given birth to a male child, and for eighty days in the case of a female child. In contrast, a woman is not now prohibited from entering a church immediately aft er giving birth. Again a woman undergoing menstruation was considered unclean according to the law. Now, however, she is not prohibited from entering a church immediately or from receiving the sacrament of Holy Communion; nor is it prohibited that a mother or her child be baptized immediately aft er the birth.

Gratian quotes directly from Gregory’s Libellus Responsionem to demonstrate the mutability of purity laws and concludes his argument with the following excerpt:

[A] woman undergoing the usual period of menstruation should not be prevented from entering a church since fault ought not to be imputed to a excrescence of nature. Th us, it is unjust that, on account of what is suff ered unwillingly, they be deprived of the entrance into a church. For we know that the woman who suff ered from the issue of blood, coming up behind the Lord, touched the hem of his garment and was immediately freed from her infi rmity [Matt hew 9:20–23]. Th erefore, if it was praiseworthy for her with the issue of blood to touch the garment of the Lord, why should a woman suff ering from menstrual bleeding not be allowed to enter the Lord’s church? . . . If then it was proper that the woman presumed to touch the Lord’s garment in her illness, why should what was granted to one infi rm person not be conceded to all women who endure a similar infi r- mity due to a natural debility? Reception of holy communion should not be prohibited during the same period. If a woman on account of her great reverence, does not presume to receive that is to be commended; but if she also receives she is not to be judged. Even when they have no fault good people will sometimes acknowledge one. Th is is because things that happen without fault oft en occur on account of a fault. For example, we eat, which is without fault, when we are hungry, but it is because of the fi rst man’s sin that we become hungry.

Gratian’s argument is groundbreaking. He refutes the menstrual laws of Leviticus 15 and permits menstruants full access to the sancta. Moreover, he uses the Libellus Responsionum in the service of his liberal agenda. Gratian was

168 · Islam and Christianity also familiar with the opinions of Archbishop Th eodore — in fact, he quotes Th eodore’s stance on sexual relations with an adulterous wife.108 About menstruants, however, Gratian cites only Gregory, thereby forcing Th eodore’s opinion on menstruants and the sacred, recently reintroduced by Burchard, back into oblivion.109 Gratian’s Decretum was the most enduring code of Christian law until the twentieth century. Scholars memorized it, students studied its logic and its theories, and the laity lived it. It is no coincidence that the most important work of medieval law wholeheartedly gave menstruants access to the sacred precisely at the same time that women’s spirituality was fl owering in the twelft h century.

female mystics in the latin west

From the 1100s to the 1500s, we see the development of many diff erent public modes of Christian female spirituality. Groups of religious women — such as the Beguines in Central Europe, Tertiaries (lay devotees associated with the Dominican and Franciscan orders), and Beatas in Spain — banded together in cities and led pious lives in public view. Among all of these changes, the most well known is the development of female mysticism. Th e twelft h century was the age of Christina of Markate (1096/8–1160) and Hildegard of Bingen (1098–1179). And by the thirteenth century, as Caroline Bynum notes, “women were more likely than men to be mystics, to gain reputation based on their mystical abilities and . . . were primarily responsible for encouraging and propagating some of the most distinctive aspects of late medieval piety.”110 Th e rise of female spiritual movements was a new phenomenon in Chris- tian culture of the Latin West. Factors that contributed to it certainly include the growth of cities, the dearth of marriageable men, and the shelter that women’s movements off ered in violent times, all elements of the changing social realities of twelft h-century Europe.111 Yet the development in the Latin West of female mysticism must also be viewed in light of the new att itudes toward menstruation and sexuality popularized in biblical exegesis, theology, and canon law.112 Menstruation was no longer a barrier to the sacred, and virginity became the essential criteria for mystical pursuits.113 Hildegard, for example, rejects the idea that menstruating women be barred from the church, while upholding the prohibition barring men wounded in batt le from church entry “lest they violate the integrity of Christ’s Temple.” Barbara Newman

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 169 says Hildegard’s opinion sent a clear message: “A man who has shed blood in warfare is unclean, like fratricidal Cain; but a woman shedding her own blood is not. Even though Eve’s wound is a punishment for sin, it is nonetheless God-given and therefore sacred.”114 Hildegard herself wrote that God does “not disdain this time of suff ering in women.”115 Th e reform movement had divided Christian society into two: celibates for heaven, the laity on earth. Th ough women could not att ain offi cial authoritative positions outside of the convent, they could achieve authority in the church through prophecy. Indeed, Th omas Aquinas allowed that [p]rophecy is not a sacrament but a gift from God . . . And since in matt ers pertaining to the soul woman does not diff er from man as to the thing (for sometimes a woman is found to be bett er than many men as regards the soul), it follows that she can receive the gift of prophecy and the like, but not the sacrament of the orders.”116 Virginity was the established precondition for prophecy or visionary experience.117 Given that most women’s mystical knowledge was infused through the spirit rather than formal study, most female visionaries were unlearned. Th eir virginity, divine grace, and the approbation of male church leaders gave them their only clout.118 By contrast, menstrual purity was not a prerequisite to God. A. J. Minnis’s study of the opinions of eleven scholastic theologians over the period 1240– 1337 on the question of whether women could be ordained found that not one of these eleven — including Th omas Aquinas (1225–1274) Bonaventure (1217– 1276) and John Duns Scotus (1265–1308) — justifi ed women’s exclusion from holy orders on the basis of her menstrual period.119 Moreover, though the Vir- gin Mary was free of the stain of original sin, she was nonetheless the natural mother of Jesus. Because she was a mother, albeit the mother of God, Chris- tian theologians understood that her physiology must have logically resem- bled that of all mothers; menstrual blood was understood to be an essential fetal nutrient that the body later converted into breast milk. Th eologians therefore determined that Mary did menstruate even though she was free of the curse of Eve.120 Even though amenorrhea was seen as a sign of spiritual grace, and despite the likelihood that some women took affi rmative steps to achieve it,121 it was not a requirement for mystical access. It was an ex post facto sign of holiness in those for whom it occurred, rather than a prerequisite. Th e reforms of the

170 · Islam and Christianity tenth and eleventh century had reinforced existing suspicions concerning sexuality and given rise to a new understanding of menstruation. By the thirteenth century, sexuality rather than bodily purity had become the major impediment to divine pursuits, allowing virgins — both male and female — to achieve heavenly heights.122

For medieval Christians, menstruation was a natural physiological process that did not bar one from sacred ritual. By contrast, lust, the product of original sin, was morally and ritually polluting. Laws prohibiting sexual relations with menstruants were maintained for medical reasons and to curb human libido. Sexual relations with menstruants, however unadvisable, were permis- sible to pay the marriage debt. Menstrual laws decreased in inverse relationship to the rise of the view that all sexual relations were barriers to the sacred: only those free of the stain of sexuality could approach the sacred or receive the Holy Spirit. Sexuality in general, rather than bodily effl uxes, pollutes. Th is new defi nition of impurity as libidinal reduced the stigma on physical impurity, permitt ed menstruants access to the sacred, and facilitated the fl owering of female Christian mysticism in the twelft h century. Th is window of opportunity would begin to close when menstrual pollution returned to the fore and aligned women with the demonic in the later Middle Ages.123 Ritual purity and virginity served almost identical functions in the sibling religions. Early Christians, as noted by Peter Brown, believed that virgins were temples of the Holy Spirit and served as mediators between God and man. Only those liberated from the confi nes of sexuality were free to live like angels who worship God on his throne of glory. Indeed, for early Christians, virginity endowed a person with the same “supernatural spiritual abilities” possessed by the Hekhalot mystic who required physical purity to participate in heavenly liturgy or to serve as a mediator between heaven and earth by adjuring an angel.124 Aft er the Gregorian reforms, celibacy was required of all priests. Concupiscence functioned as a polluting force that disqualifi ed clergy from ecclesia, the Christian equivalent of Temple,125 just as menstrual impurity denied medieval kabbalists entry into the celestial Temple. Notions of purity and impurity do not disappear in Christianity; rather, they are redefi ned. Th e Middle Ages witnessed the emergence of sexuality as the new impurity.

Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 171 Conclusion

According to a popular midrashic tradition, the nonagenarian Sarah never menstruated until three angels arrived to announce the birth of Isaac. Th e Zohar interprets Sarah’s amenorrhea as a mark of her sanctity and singular status among women. She alone, of all her sex, was free of the stain of impurity.1 Th e Zohar explains: Come and see, an Eve came into the world and cleaved to the serpent who polluted her and brought about death to the world and to her husband. A Sarah rested and came forth and did not cleave to him [the serpent] . . . Because Abraham and Sarah did not cleave to the demonic other side, Sarah received the privilege of supernal life for herself, her husband, and her sons aft er her. As it is writt en, “Look to the rock whence you are hewn, and to the hole of the pit from which you were dug out” (Isaiah 51:1).2 Concerning this [therefore it was writt en] “and these were the years of Sarah’s life,” because she was privileged in all of them. And it is not writt en among other women, [for example] and these were the years of Eve’s life.3 According to Zoharic mythology, the serpent, ruler of the demonic other side (sitra ah. ra), is the source of all human impurities. Whereas Eve sins in the Bible by eating of the Tree of Knowledge and God punishes her with painful labor, in the Zohar, Eve sins by cleaving to the force of impurity that then pollutes her with the menstrual fl ow. Sarah, by contrast, remains ritually pure aft er her encounter with the serpent. Untainted by menstruation, the mark of the serpent, she is able to achieve a level of sanctity denied Eve and all her other descendants;4 Shekhinah, the feminine aspect of God, perpetually rests upon her.5 Just as a male mystic achieves spiritual ecstasy through his union with the Shekhinah, Sarah achieves spiritual ecstasy through her union with the male aspect of God, Yesod.6 Sarah’s special spiritual status turns on

172 her purity. Th e Zohar justifi es the absence of female mystics by contrasting Sarah’s purity with other women’s impurity. Jewish mysticism is based on the Israelite Temple cult. Th e Temple Mount was God’s terrestrial address; the Holy of Holies, God’s private offi ce on earth. Access to the Temple was limited to the ritually pure; access to the Holy of Holies was limited to the high priest on the Day of Atonement, the holiest day of the Jewish year. Aft er the destruction of the physical Temple, Jews who yearned for immediate access to the divine expressed their spiritual quest in Temple cult symbolism. Hekhalot mystics imagined a celestial Tem- ple. German Pietists identifi ed the four-wheeled chariot of Ezekiel with the tetragrammaton; medieval kabbalists imagined the sefi rotic realm as the Holy Hekhal. Access to the celestial Temple, like access to the Jerusalem Temple, was limited to the ritually pure. Hekhalot literature prescribed elaborate purity rituals for aspiring male adepts and described the spiritual and moral dangers facing the unworthy. Th e traditions of the contemporaneous Beraita d’Niddah (BdN), also addressed to men, focused on the dangers of menstrual impurity for sacred endeavors. Th ese traditions represent two sides of the same coin with respect to purity and the divine. Italian Jews of Palestinian origin transmitt ed Hekhalot and BdN traditions to Northern Europe, where they become an essential part of the mystical practice and esoteric theology of the German Pietists. Th e signifi cance of menstrual impurity intensifi ed when these Ashkenazic ideas fi ltered into medieval Kabbalah, but the focus on menstruation that emerged in Kabbalah was diff erent in kind from the constraints in earlier religious circles, in part because it was not merely a set of laws or customs. It was part of a larger cosmic and theological understanding of the universe born of the Temple cult. Kabbalists, like latt er-day high priests had to avoid menstrual impurity to enter a sefi rotic realm conceived of as a celestial Holy of Holies. Zoharic myth reinforced the long-established tradition that menstrual impurity was antinomic to the sacred. For theosophical Kabbalists, everything in the human realm — including menstruation — had its origins in the divine. Women menstruated because the Shekhinah menstruates, and both fl ows were stimulated by excess Judgment or the sitra ah. ra. Menstruants, already viewed as inimical to the divine, became particularly nefarious when they were understood as refl ecting the Shekhinah herself, empowered by the sitra ah. ra. Just as the menstruating woman was separated from her husband, the

Conclusion · 173 Shekhinah had to be separated from the other divine att ributes. Any contact between the pure and impure could infect the Godhead with the forces of the demonic realm. Th is symbolic understanding of the divine menstruant had a profound impact on the image and spiritual opportunities of medieval Jewish women and continues to infl uence folk custom today. By contrast, ritual purity was not essential to spiritual success in either Islam or Christianity in the medieval period. Menstrual laws were a quotidian aspect of Islamic ritual, and bodily impurities did not carry the same taboos as found in Judaism and Christianity. Analysis of Islamic scriptural, legal, and mystical sources, as well as contemporary Sufi practice, indicates that purity of heart, rather than physical purity, was the criterion for divine pursuits and was considered equally accessible to both men and women. Similarly, while menstrual laws remained entrenched in Christianity, the relaxation of the laws codifi ed by Gratian in hisDecretum coincided with the fl owering of Christian female mysticism in the Latin West. Virginity — real or reclaimed, male or female — became the sole prerequisite to the Christian divine. In Jewish law, the antinomy between menstruation and the sacred remained embedded. Jacob Landau, one of the fi rst Italian Ashkenazi scholars to include the Zohar in his legal decisions in his Sefer ha-Agur (1491) mentioned that women in his community did not look at a Torah scroll when it was raised and shown to the congregation.”7 In his gloss on the Shulh. an Arukh, the Ashkenazi rabbi Moses Isserles (d. 1572) noted that women in Ashkenaz generally refrained from entering synagogues or touching holy books. Moses Sofer (H. atam Sofer, 1762–1839) decreed that menstruants neither enter the synagogue nor pray.8 His student Rabbi Aqiva Schlesinger wrote that a woman with a blood fl ow should not come to the Western Wall because people pray there, and thus it is like a synagogue.9 Israel Meir Kagan (H. afets H. ayim, 1838–1933) prohibited menstruants from looking at a Torah scroll when it was raised and from entering cemeteries.10 Th e Lubavitch Book of Customs forbid all women from lighting Hanukah candles: as menstruating women cannot make the blessing over the candles, all women should refrain from blessing to ensure modesty.11 It is this antinomy between menstruants and the sacred that undergirds a practice commonly followed by Jewish women who immerse themselves in ritual baths. Rabbis generally advocate reciting blessings before performing a commandment. However, in striking contrast to most other benedictions, menstruants customarily recite the blessing of ritual immersion aft er the fi rst

174 · Conclusion of their three immersions to ensure that they pray in a purifi ed state.12 Some Jewish women will not touch a Torah, believing that any past or present experience of menstrual impurity bars them from contact with the sacred scroll. Other Jews believe that only menstruants must refrain from touching a Torah and att ending prayer services.13 Th ese modern practices are not based in Jewish law; they are rather refor- mulations of Temple cult–based spiritual practices that barred women access to the holy. Nor have these concepts vanished from the mystical landscape.14 Indeed, the infl uence of the Zohar onmenstruants may become even more pronounced among religious Jewish communities in the future. Th ough the Zohar was not intended as a halakhic work, in recent years several Hebrew books have appeared that claim to derive laws from it.15 Yisaskhar of Kre- monits’s Yesh Skhar, more commonly known as Shulh. an Arukh ha-Zohar (1569) was the fi rst kabbalistic book to present itself as a halakhic work.16 Th is sixteenth-century text was fi rst reprinted in 1984 and by 1993 was in its third printing. Citing the Zohar, the Yesh Skhar warns that fl outing menstrual laws is tantamount to transgressing the Ten Commandments and will incur the early death of children.17 Women must cut their hair and nails prior to ritual immersion because the spirit of impurity inheres in new growth.18 In 1988, Moses Hayim Teiburg published Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh (Th e Book of the Zohar Revealed).19 Teiburg derives the Zohar’s halakhic perspective on the portions of the Bible to teach proper practice to the unen- lightened. He warns his readers not to approach menstruants because twenty- four types of impurity possess them.20 Husbands must separate from their menstruating wives lest they combine that which God separated.21 Sexual relations with menstruants will, he writes, drive the Shekhinah away from the world.22 In 2001, Abraham Tseinart published the most comprehensive modern ef- fort to promulgate the Zoharic corpus and make it more accessible.23 Shulh.an Arukh ha-Zohar (SAZ) is a thirty-volume work dedicated to teaching “the laws, customs, strictures, embellishments, and morals that can be gleaned from the teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh. ai in the Zohar.”24 Th ough this convention is not new, SAZ diff ers from the earlier examples in its breadth and scale. Th e thirty volumes were designed for ease of use and render the Zohar’s esoteric Aramaic traditions into simple Hebrew. Its scope and its emphasis on popularization ensures that it remains important to Jewish women coming of age in the twenty-fi rst century.

Conclusion · 175 Paragraph 195 of Karo’s Shulh. an Arukh Yoreh Deah codifi es the laws of menstrual separation. Th e SAZ rationalizes the reasons for the Shulh. an Arukh’s restrictions on menstruants because “the spirit of impurity rests on the niddah.” Th us possessed, a menstruant’s magical prowess exceeds that of a ritually pure woman. Men should guard themselves from impure women because the spirit of impurity rests upon them. Anything that they approach or that approaches them becomes impure. Consequently, the SAZ explains that a woman must count an additional seven clean days aft er the cessation of her fl ow to free herself from the clutches of the evilqelippot restraining her.25 Moreover, a woman must cut the hair and nails that grow during her fl ow because their zohama att racts the sitra zohama; these dangerous parings must be hidden lest they harm others. Whoever burns them increases H. esed in the world (because they originate in the side of Judgment).26 Th e laws of niddah given in the SAZ not only protect Jewish men from an ungodly force, but their observance facilitates mystical vision: Israel was privileged when the Holy One, blessed be He, gave them the law “do not approach a woman (18:19). . . . He who observes the laws of niddah as he is commanded is thereby privileged to unite with the supernal unity, and by this he is privileged to have the Shekhinah rest upon him.27 According to the SAZ, menstrual laws are a gift for men from God. According to one Zoharic myth, the divine aspect of the Shekhinah van- ishes when she becomes a niddah, and she then becomes possessed by an evil handmaiden. Th is is the meaning of the phrase “God wanders away (n-d-d) from the niddah (n-d-h).” Th e heh signifi es that the Shekhinah departs, and a demonic handmaiden takes her place. Th us niddah laws are essential for divine access and necessary for the maintenance of cosmic harmony: men can emulate and meet God by avoiding menstrual impurity. Women, invol- untarily polluted by menstrual impurity, cannot access the divine without causing cosmic disruption. Th is understanding rationalized women’s absence from medieval Jewish mysticism.

176 · Conclusion notes

introduction

1. Greenberg, “Etymology of Niddah,” 69–77; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 16–18; Mil- grom et al., “Niddah,” in Th eological Dictionary of the Old Testament, 9:232–235. 2. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 745. 3. A Bar Ilan database search of the printed (Margaliot) edition of the Zohar reveals an overwhelming number of instances of the term niddah as compared to the Aramaic and Hebrew terms for the nine other “fathers of impurity.” 4. On the Zohar and Jewish law (halakhah), see Katz, Halakhah ve-Kabbalah; Ta- Shma, Ha-Nigleh she ba-Nistar; H. allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 117–146; Ta-Shma, “Acceptance of the Zohar,” 407–418; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 173–199; Liebes, “Zohar as a Ha- lakhic Book,” 581–605; Shuchat, “When Parallel Lines Meet,” 449–486. 5. Consider the many ordinances att ributed to Yoh. annan ben Zaqqai aft er the destruction of the Temple. Neusner, “Studies on the Taqqanot of Yavneh,” 183–198. For a spiritual reworking, see Heschel, Th e Sabbath; Green, “Zaddiq as Axis Mundi,” 329–331; Idel, As- censions on High, 23–71; Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights.” 6. Scholem, Major Trends, 37–38. See among others, Idel, “Beloved and the Concubine,” 141–143; Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being, 46–110; Rapoport-Albert, “On Women in Hasi- dism,” 508. 7. Baskin, “Dolce of Worms,” 42. Th at is not to say that there are no examples of learned Jewish women. According to halakhah, women were merely exempted, not forbidden, Torah study, and some distinguished themselves. Th e fi gures Beruriah and Ima Shalom were noted for their scholarship in the Talmud, Urania of Worms led prayer services for women, Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh. aqi’s (Rashi’s) daughters were purportedly learned, and the leaders of the German Pietists encouraged women to study Torah. Yet female Pietists could acquire only the exoteric Torah knowledge that would enable them to practice Ju- daism more effi ciently; stringent purity laws barred them from esoteric lore. Th e Pietist Eleazar of Worms, who lauded the Torah knowledge of his wife and daughter (Shirat ha- Roqeah. , 226–232), not only adopted the most strict interpretation of menstrual purity laws known at that time but also instituted additional restrictions governing mystics’ contact with menstruants. See, among others, BT Berakhot 20b; BT Qiddushin 29a. Sefer ha-H.inukh, 532 par. 418; Judah the Pietist, Sefer H. asidim, ed. Margaliot, 211 par. 835 and par. 1501. Petah. ia of Regensburg, Seevuv Rav Petah. ia Mi-Regensburg, 9; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Talmud Torah, 1:13; Maimonides, Teshuvat ha-Ramban, ed. Blau, 34. On Jewish women’s education in the late-antique world, see Ilan, “Quest for the Historical Beruriah, Rachel, and Ima Shalom,” 1–17; Goodblatt , “Beruriah Traditions,” 68–85; Boya- rin, Carnal Israel, 183–196; Swidler, Women in Judaism, 97–105. In the Middle Ages, see Abrahams, Jewish Life in the Middle Ages, 26; Agus, Th e Heroic Age of Franco-German Jewry, 284–309; Cohen, “Women and the Study of Talmud,” 28–37; Grossman, Pious and Rebel- lious, 154–174; Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, 2:171–211; Harvey, “Obligation of Talmud

177 on Women according to Maimonides,” 122–130; Marcus, “Mothers, Martyrs, and Money- lenders,” 41–42; Nirenberg, “A Female Rabbi in Fourteenth Century Zaragoza?” 179–183. 8. Hood and Hall, “Gender Diff erences in the Description of Erotic and Mystical Ex- periences,” 195–207; Jacobs, “Religious Experience among Women and Men,” 261–279; Sjørup, “Are Women’s Religious Experiences Mystical Experiences,” 15–32. 9. Foucault, Power/Knowledge; Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 13. 10. Ibid., 223–241. See also, Brown, “Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” 427– 443; Castelli, “Virginity and Its Meaning for Women’s Sexuality in Early Christianity,” 61–88. 11. Kraemer, “Her Share of the Blessing,” 108–109; Kraemer, When Aseneth Met Joseph, 135; Lesses, “Exe(o)rcising Power,” 343–375. Th e virulent comments against sorceresses in the Talmud may be seen as part of a rabbinic polemic against successful competition. 12. Rapoport-Albert, “On the Position of Women in Sabbateanism,” 143–327. Professor Rapoport-Albert's Women and the Messianic Heresy of Sabbatai Zev (Litt man, 2011) appeared in print too late for me to cite it in my notes and bibliography, but I would like readers to be aware of her excellent new study. See also Chajes, Between Worlds, 97–118. 13. Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Th eology, 199–218; Deutsch, Th e Maiden of Ludmir. 14. Vital, Sefer H.ezyonot, 6–7, 10; Chajes, Between Worlds, 97–118; Chajes, “Spirit Posses- sion in Sixteenth Century Safed,” 124–158; Faierstein, “Maggidim, Spirits, and Women in Rabbi Hayyim Vital’s Book of Visions,” 186–214. Th e notion that women could become possessed by external forces may be an outgrowth of the Zoharic understanding of the menstruant as possessed. Note that the women described by Vital bear striking resemblance to female demoniacs in thirteenth-century Europe. “Speaking ‘in persona diaboli,’ they were viewed as sources of supernatural authority, treated with circumspect awe by priests, and sometimes even allowed to preach” (733). Newman contends that they played an essential part in the thirteenth-century att empt to relive the Gospel as a drama (“Pos- sessed by the Spirit,” 733–734; compare Voaden, God’s Words, Women’s Voices, 41–72). Th is desire to recreate the drama of earlier spiritual experiences was common to sixteenth- century Safed as well. 15. See Weissler, “For Women and for Men Who Are Like Women,” 7–24; “Traditional Piety of Ashkenazic Women,” 245–275; “Women as High Priest,” 9–26; “Women in Para- dise,” 43–46, 117–120; Voices of the Matriarchs. 16. Rapoport-Albert, “On Women in Hasidism,” 508; Deutsch, Th e Maiden of Ludmir, 20–23; Polen, “Miriam’s Dance,” Modern Judaism 12 (1992):17–18, 26. 17. Rapoport-Albert, “Maid of Ludmir,” 508. On the possibilities for women’s spirituality in the modern Hasidic movement, see Polen, “Miriam’s Dance,” 1–21; Polen, “Coming of Age in Kozienice,” 123–140. 18. Plato, Parmenides. See parallel in the Gnostic Zostrianos 44:5–21. 19. Th ere are expressions of dualism in the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha, but these are not as “radical” as those of the Greeks. See Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects of Ancient Judaism,” 262, 267–269; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 31–60. 20. Plato, Th eaetetus, 97c. 21. Lev. 11:44–45; 19:2; 20:7, 26.

178 · Notes to Pages 2–4 22. Sifr a de-vei Rav, ed. Weiss, 57b. Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Th eology, 205; Leven- son, “Jerusalem Temple,” 36. 23. According to the ninth-century Midrash Tanh. uma, Israelite women did not menstruate while traveling through the desert because the Shekhinah rested upon the camp. See Midrash Tanh. uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27. 24. Eliade, Th e Sacred and the Profane, 20; Branham, “Sacred Space,” 19; Bokser, “Ap- proaching Sacred Space,” 281. 25. Smith, Map Is Not Territory, 189. 26. Bokser, “Approaching Sacred Space,” 279–299. 27. Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–58. 28. Delaney, Th e Curse, 1. 29. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 745. 30. Biale, Blood and Belief, 9–43. 31. Buckley and Gott lieb, Blood Magic, 38–39; Burton, “Some Nuer Notions of Purity and Danger,” 530; Delaney, “Mortal Flow,” in Blood Magic, 75–80; Levy-Bruhl, Primitives and the Supernatural, 390–396; Meigs, “A Papuan Perspective on Pollution,” 313. In Jewish practice in particular, see Feldman, Biblical and Post-Biblical Defi lement and Mourning, 35– 37; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 28–29; Eilberg Schwartz, Th e Savage in Judaism, 182–186. 32. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 46, 941. 33. Sacrifi cial blood and the blood of circumcision, by contrast, are holy and have sal- vifi c qualities. Cohen, Why Aren’t Jewish Women Circumcised? 16–17, 31–32. 34. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 46, 941. 35. Lev. 15:1–30; Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 902–903. 36. Lev. 15:19–30. Th e Bible does not require immersion for niddot and zavot. Aft er the destruction of the Temple, a zavah could no longer off er a sacrifi ce, and ritual immersion became her only means of purifi cation. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 277. 37. M Zavim, 1; T Zavim, 1. 38. Note that while Leviticus does not stipulate ritual immersion for menstruants, the Mishnah Miqvaot 8:1 and 5 does. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 277; Hauptman, Rereading the Rabbis, 149; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176. 39. PT Berakhot 5:1 (8d), trans. Secunda, “Ki Derekh Nashim Li ,” 170. Secunda con- vincingly argues that this tradition informed the following statement in the Babylonian Talmud (162–176). 40. BT Berakhot 31a; BT Niddah 66a; BT Megillah 28b. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 277–278; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176. For the women’s motiva- tion in taking on this stricture, see Biale, Women and Jewish Law, 152–153; Fonrobert, Men- strual Purity, 183; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176. 41. Th ere is no historical record documenting the acceptance of Rabbi Zeira’s stricture. However, we do know that by the early Geonic period, this stricture became the standard interpretation. Th anks to Devorah Zlochower for this clarifi cation. 42. BT Ketuvot 61b. M Niddah is the only section of the Mishnaic order of purities to have its own Gemara. Th is need not be seen as evidence of rabbinic misogyny. Fonrobert suggests that Tractate Niddah represents a rabbinic att empt to develop a discourse on the

Notes to Pages 5–8 · 179 female body that coincides with the contemporaneous gynecological studies of Rufus, Soranus, and Galen. References to women’s limitations during the menstrual fl ow appear only in other talmudic tractates (Menstrual Purity, 41–42). 43. Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 2:5. See also BT Sanhedrin 43a. 44. See also Isaac ben Moses of Vienna, Or Zarua, 4:48b. 45. Secunda argues that the seven clean days were originally instituted in Babylonian as a polemical response to Zoroastrian menstrual laws (“Ki Derekh Nahsim Li,” especially 216). 46. Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 279, quoting Ha-H. iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah. u-venei Erets Yisrael, 79 par. 11; compare Lewin, Otsar H. iluf Minhagim, 28–34. 47. Shaye Cohen refers to this as “cultic nostalgia.” Palestinian Jews were generally stricter in their practice than Babylonian Jews. Revel, “Diff erences between the Jews of Babylonia and the Land of Israel,” 3–5; Ta-Shma, “On Some Franco-German Niddah Practices,” 163–170. 48. Lev. 15:1–30. 49. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 904. 50. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107; Baskin, “Women and Ritual Immersion,” 132. Th e rabbis diff er as to the defi nition of the term baal qeri. It may refer to man who has ejacu- lated in intercourse (PT Yoma 8:1:44d), a man with gonorrhea (M Berakhot 3:6), a man who has had a nocturnal emission, or an onanite. For the purposes of this general overview, I follow the example of Shaye Cohen and use the term ejaculant. 51. While Toseft a Berakhot 2:13 allows menstruants to read the Torah, the version of the argument in the Babylonian Talmud, which has been tampered with, extends this privilege only to men who have had sexual relations with niddot. See BT Berakhot 22a; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 295 n34; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 180–181. 52. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107. Th e specifi c prohibition that baalei qeri not study Torah was known as taqqanat Ezra, the enactment of Ezra. See BT Baba Qamma 82a; Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 273–299; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 17–37. 53. BT Berakhot 22a; PT Berakhot 3:3:6c; Toseft a Berakhot 2:3. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 284. Scholars applied a double standard to the observance of the laws of qeri. For example, when Rabbi Judah had a seminal emission, he immersed himself in a river before teaching his students, even though he did not require immersion for others. See BT Berakhot 22a; Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects,” 275; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 51. 54. BT Berakhot 21b–22a; Ha-H. iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah. u-venei Erets Yisrael, 108– 111; Lewin, Otsar H. iluf Minhagim, 23–25; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 17–37. Revel, “Diff erences between the Jews of Babylonia and Palestine,” 12–13. 55. Several Geonim and many other Jewish men under Muslim rule would immerse themselves aft er ejaculation. Th eir practice was likely more infl uenced by Islam than by Palestinian custom. Most Germanic Jews, by contrast, ignored the custom until it was reintroduced by the German Pietists. Lewin, Otsar ha-Geonim, 4:43, 54–56; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Qeriyat Shema, 4:8; Hilkhot Tefi llah, 1:9; 4:4; .H avatselet, “De- velopment of One Custom under the Infl uenceof Time and Place,” 531–537; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 285. 56. See Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 119–123, 134–135. Swartz, “Ritual and Pu- rity,” 153; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162. See also chapter 2.

180 · Notes to Pages 8–10 57. Zohar 1:54b–55a, 167b; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1366–1367; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 57. On the association between baal qeri and death in Kabbalah, see Bah. ya ben Asher on Lev. 24:3; Joseph Hamadan, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, #55 in Gott lieb, Ha-Qabbalah be-Kitvei Rabbenu Bah. ya ben Asher, 260. 58. Eilberg-Schwartz, Th e Savage in Judaism, 186–191; Hoff man, Covenant of Blood, 151– 154. 59. Satlow, “ ‘Try to Be a Man,’ ” 40. 60. PT Berakhot 3:3,4 6c; BT Berakhot 21b; BT Niddah 31b; PT Ketuvot 5:8 29d; BT Ketuvot 62b; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 50–51; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283. Compare the Beraita of Rabbi Pinh. as ben Yair in BT Avodah Zarah 20b and my interpretation in chapter 1. 61. Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 44–45; compare Sifra Metsora, 1:75a and 4:78a; Mish- nah Niddah 5:1, cited in Fonrobert, 48, 53. 62. See chapter 7. 63. Zohar 3:79a.

one. From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple 1. For an early dating, see Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 12–13; Scholem, Major Trends, 46–47. For a survey of the scholarship, see Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 217–219; Schäfer, “Research on Hekhalot Literature,” 229–235. 2. Abrams, “Maaseh Merkabah as a Literary Work,” 329–345; Herrman, “Re-Writt en Mys- tical Texts,” 97–116; Kuyt, “Traces of a Mutual Infl uence,” 62–86; Kuyt, Th e H. asidei Ashkenaz and Th eir Mystical Sources, 462–471. 3. See Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 2; Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 226–230; Elior, Th e Th ree Temples. 4. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 217–267; Elior, Th e Th ree Temples; Gruenwald, “Th e Impact of Priestly Traditions,” 65–120; Schiff man, “Merkavah Speculation at Qumran,” 17. 5. Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–37. 6. Dan, Th ree Types of Ancient Jewish Mysticism. 7. Scholem, Major Trends, 40–79; Schäfer, “Th e Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysti- cism,” 277–295. 8. Wolfson notes that some of the Sar Torah texts presuppose an ecstatic experience of il- lumination as ascent (Speculum, 116–117). 9. Lesses, Ritual Practices, 279–366; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 75–91; Schiff man and Swartz, Hebrew and Aramaic Incantation Texts; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 33–52. Compare Dan, “Th e Mystical Descenders to the Chariot,” 180–181, 194. 10. Schäfer, “Th e Aim and Purpose of Jewish Mysticism,” 282; Schäfer, Hidden and Manifest God; Halperin, Th e Faces of the Chariot, 376–387; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 63–116; Wolfson, Specu- lum, 74–81; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 53–152. 11. Th ere is some evidence that the rabbis also believed that cultic purity laws remained in eff ect in the heavens. See Numbers Rabbah 19:7.

Notes to Pages 10–16 · 181 12. BT Berakhot 21a–21b. 13. Biale, Eros and the Jews, 37–53; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 47–57, 134–166; Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects of Ancient Judaism,” 253–288. 14. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 216–267. 15. See, among others, Synopse #3, #9, #79, #177, #178, #299, #424, #884. 16. Synopse #683; see also Synopse #337, #623. Th ough moral and physical purity are prerequisite, they are not equated in Hekhalot literature as they are in Qumran and in late antique midrashim (Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 95). To adjure an angel, one must approach God not only in (spiritual) purity but also aft er (physical) “immersion” (Synopse #199). Th is distinction is important. In Qumran literature the equation of moral and physical purity makes physical impurity a mark of evil, facilitating the development of a spirit of impurity; Hekhalot literature does not demonize impurity. Th is absence of a demonic aspect to impurity distinguishes Hekhalot literature from later Jewish mysticism as well. 17. BT Yoma 21b; BT Baba Batra 12a. 18. BT Sanhedrin 11a; Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah, 199–201; Urbach, “When Did Prophecy Cease,” 1–11; Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” 37–49; Sommer, “Did Prophecy Cease?” 31–47. 19. Idel, Ascensions on High, especially 24–25. 20. Numbers 11:16–18, 25–26; I Samuel 10:5–8. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrine,” 222–223; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 119–160; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,’ ” 135–167. 21. Synopse #513. 22. Synopse #12, #27, # 378, #971. 23. Synopse #4–6, #24, #29. Earthly visitors to heaven are not alone in their need for purity. Ministering angels contract impurity through their close contact with man during their daily descents into our world. Th ey are sullied by the odor emitt ed by human beings, who are born of women and may contract impurity through emissions and dirt. When they return to heaven for the angelic liturgy, the ministering angels immerse themselves seven times in rivers of fi re. Aft er immersion, they check themselves for any remaining traces of impurity. Th ey will participate in the heavenly liturgy only when certain of their sanctity. See Synopse #180, #181, #265, #531, #810, #790, #791. Th e ministering angels’ seven- fold immersion may be more representative of the seven Hekhalot than of any contemporary rabbinic practice. Moreover, when sacrifi ces could no longer be off ered at the Temple, immersion became the fi nal act in the purifi cation process. Any required “check- ing” would have to be completed before immersion. Th e ministering angels, however, check themselves aft er immersion. Ablution in the rivers of fi re is their sole means of achieving purity — there is no waiting period. Th ey must therefore check themselves aft er immersion to be certain that the process has worked. 24. For example, Synopse #627; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 79–80. 25. Sefer ha-Razim, ed. Margaliot. For Margaliot’s sources, see Lesses, Ritual Practices, 422–424; Morgan, trans., Sepher ha-Razim, 1–6; Schiff man and Swartz,Hebrew and Ara- maic Incantation Texts, 19. On purity prerequisites in magical texts, see, T.-S. K1.2 1a 15–16 in Schäfer and Shaked, Magische Texte aus der Kairoer Geniza, 48. Purity for exorcisms and

182 · Notes to Pages 16–18 necromancy was also an essential part of the Western medieval magical tradition. Kieck- hefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 168. 26. Note that the text does not equate baal qeri and seminal emission. Sefer Razim, 2:6–10, 81; compare 5:34–37, 103; 6:27, 105. 27. BT Avodah Zarah 20b, translated from MS Munich 95 in Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects of Ancient Judaism,” 270. See parallel versions in M Sotah 9:15; PT Sheqalim 3:3; 1:6, 3c, M Sheqalim 4:6. Lieberman, Ha-Yerushalmi ki-fshuto, 1:35–36. Liss, introduction to Th e Baby- lonian Talmud: Tractate Sotah, 2:368. Note that purity is the prerequisite for holiness in eleven of the twenty-three manuscripts and printed variants catalogued by Liss. In fi ve versions, piety (h. asidut) follows holiness (qedushah). 28. Deut. 23:10–15; See also 1 Sam. 20:26. 29. Rashi explains that the term “purity” refers specifi cally to purity from semen. Rashi on BT Avodah Zarah 20b, s.v. ve-nishmarta mi-kol davar ra. 30. Sexual abstinence is omitt ed in the printed edition of the text; cleanliness leads directly to purity. 31. One of the most interesting descriptions of these degrees of holiness can be found in Synopse #558, where diff erent levels of holiness are required for entry into diff erent levels of heaven. Th e purity requirements of angels similarly depend on their station in heaven. Th e H. ayyot ha-Qodesh, the Off anim, and the Cherubim sanctify and purify themselves to a greater degree than do the ministering angels because they stand at a higher level of the heavens near the supernal merkavah (Synopse #795, #535 #518). 32. Note that according to one opinion in the Talmud (BT Berakhot 22a), an ejaculant may study Talmud but cannot mention divine names. 33. BT Berakhot 21a–22b; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283. 34. Synopse #424. 35. Synopse #436, #489; compare #684. 36. Synopse #424. 37. Synopse #623; compare #663. 38. M Yoma 1:1. Th anks to Charlott e Fonrobert for this reference. 39. Synopse #303; compare Synopse #565. 40. Synopse #299. 41. BT Berakhot 21b. 42. Th e absolute requirement to wait fi ve days before counting the seven clean days is propounded by in the Terumat ha-Deshen. Th e author of that text justifi es his stricture by invoking the purity requirements of seminal emission. I am indebted to Devorah Zlo- chower for this reference. 43. Compare Synopse #663, where the aspiring mystic is told to immerse himself in a river three times. Th is instruction refl ects the practice of menstruants who must immerse themselves in a ritual bath three times. Ejaculants only needed to immerse themselves once. 44. Because the rabbis never explicitly defi ned the terms of the metaphor, the anatomical referents are a subject of scholarly debate. For a detailed analysis of these anatomical referents, see Barkai, Les infortunes de Dinah, 40. Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 224–231.

Notes to Pages 18–21 · 183 45. M Niddah 2:5. 46. Th e alternative of the upper chamber does not fi t this explanation neatly because blood from the upper chamber is considered pure (PT Niddah 2:4, 50a). But Hekhalot mystics were extremely vigilant about purity laws (e.g., the story of Neh. unyah ben Haqa- nah, later in the chapter), and it is likely that they considered any bloody issue from the female impure. Note that the Geronese kabbalist Ezra of Gerona also believed blood from the upper chamber to be impure. See chapter 7. 47. Van Gennep, Rites of Passage; Bynum, “Women’s Stories, Women’s Symbols,” 35; Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–37. 48. Synopse #424. 49. Synopse #314; Schäfer, Magische Texte, 165. 50. Th ere is, however, one reference, ostensibly to women in general, which may intend menstruants in particular. Several rituals warn mystics against speaking with their wives or with women at large. Synopse #498, #623, #507. While speaking with women could certainly result in sexual arousal (BT Nedarim 20a; Massekhet Derekh Erets Rab- bah 1; BT Eruvin 63b), the warning clearly derives from M Avot 1:5, which warns men not to speak much with womankind. Any man who did not heed this exhortation would cause bad things to befall him, would be no longer be fi t for the study of Torah, and would ultimately inherit hell. Several manuscript editions of the Mishnah identify this generic woman as a menstruant. Katsh, ed. Ginzei Mishnah, 101; MS Kaufman A50, f. 188b; Faksi- mile Ausgabe des Mischnah Codex Kaufman A-50, ed. Beer, 2:337. MS Parma de Rossi 138, fol. 113a; Mishnah Codex Parma, 226. According to this reading, men put good fortune, heaven, and Torah knowledge at risk by speaking with menstruants. Th is tradition was known throughout the Middle Ages and is explicitly mentioned by Rashi, Jonah Gerondi, and Menah.em Meiri. Schechter, introduction to Avot d’Rabbi Natan, xvii–xx. Compare Menah.em Meiri, Perush ha-Mishnah l-Meiri 5:188; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, Hilkhot Niddah, 2:18. For a diff erent understanding, see Horowitz, Pith. ei Niddah, 25–26. 51. On food restrictions, see Lesses, Ritual Practices, 144–155; Swartz, “Like the Minis- tering Angels,” 148–153; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162–163. 52. Synopse #648, #684. 53. No need for “pure food” is mentioned in the Bible. Priests were expected to eat while ritually pure, but no specifi c requirements for handling their food are described. Sanders, Jewish Law fr om Jesus to the Mishnah, 136. 54. Synopse #489, #314, #19; Schäfer, Genizah-Fragmente, 165. 55. Scholars have noted the affi nities between the Dead Sea Sect and Hekhalot literature, and the purity concerns of the Dead Sea Sect may have infl uenced the food concerns of Hekhalot mystics. Th ose who did not belong to the sect were considered impure and were denied access to the food supply. See Baumgarten, “Sacrifi ce and Worship among the Jewish Sectaries,” 46; Schiff man,Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 160–164; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 142–144. On the affi nities between Qumran and Hekhalot literature, see Elior, Th e Th ree Temples. 56. Mishnah Niddah 2: 6–7; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 105–109. On rabbis adopting priestly roles, see Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary, 83–86.

184 · Notes to Pages 21–23 57. Synopse #288. 58. Synopse #83. 59. Synopse #86; Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 40–42. Note that Rabbi Aqiva is also able to identify by sight a child who was both a mamzer and conceived during niddah. See Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 16:146–148; Kallah Rabbati 2:2, 191–193; see also Zohar 3:226a (RM). 60. Synopse #224–#228. 61. Only Schiff man, in “Th e Recall of Neh. unya ben ha-Qanah,” addresses the two impurity requirements for the woman in this story (272–275). Lieberman only discusses the problem of fi xed periods, and Swartz only entionsm the invalid immersion. See Lieber- man, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 242; Swartz, “Like the Ministering Angels,” 163. 62. See Schiff man, “Th e Recall of Neh. unya ben Ha-Qanah,” 274. Compare Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,’ ” 163. 63. Against this view, see Schlüter, “Die Erzählung,” 98. 64. BT Niddah 16a. 65. Lieberman identifi es the dissenter as Rabbi Eliezer, the supreme authority on blood purity (“Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n73). It is also possible that the dissenter was the Rava, who was able to diff erentiate between sixty diff erent types of blood by smell alone and enjoyed an “international reputation” as an expert on bloods (Fonrobert, Men- strual Purity, 116–117). 66. Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 244. See also the sources that he cites in note 78. For a critique of this view, see Schlüter, “Die Erzählung,” 98–99. 67. Since the text makes no mention of another piece of cloth, I assume there is only one. Schlüter believes there are two (“Die Erzählung,” 109); compare Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n74. 68. Th is step may have been a means to purify and deodorize the cloth (Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243), or may refl ect contemporary magical practices (Schiff man, “Th e Recall of Neh. unya ben ha-Qanah”). 69. On this text and the BdN, see Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241– 244. 70. Scholem and Lieberman see the story as proof of the rabbinic character of Hekha- lot literature. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 9–13; Lieberman, “Th e Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241–244. Schlüter believes it represents the essentially magical character of the yordei merkavah (“Die Erzälung,” 65–110). Schiff man and Swartz believe it represents the marriage of halakhah, Hekhalot literature, and magic. See Schiff man, “Th e Recall of Rabbi Neh.unya ben ha-Qanah,” 269–281; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,’ ” 135–167. 71. See the extensive discussion of magic and menstruation in chapter 7. 72. Schlüter, “Die Erzählung.” In a similar vein, Halperin, believes that Hekhalot mystics were lower class rebels hoping to learn the mysteries of Torah through magic rather than study. Halperin, Th e Faces of the Chariot. 73. On Hekhalot literature and late-antique magic, see Lesses, Ritual Practices, 122, 279–366; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 75–91; Schiff man and Swartz, Hebrew and Aramaic Incantation Texts; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 33–52. On purity prerequisites for

Notes to Pages 23–25 · 185 magical practice, see Schäfer and Shaked, Magische Texte, 48; Sefer ha-Razim, ed. Margal- iot, 1:34, p.69; 2:6–10, p. 81; 2:184, p. 91; 5:34–37, p.103; 6:27, p. 105; Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 168. 74. Davila, Descenders to the Chariot, 245–256; Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 52; Schäfer, “Th e Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysticism,” 293; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,’ ” 164; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 217–221; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 364. 75. Rachel Elior, Th e Th ree Temples. 76. Interestingly, onions were believed to stimulate menstruation (BT Niddah 63b). Th anks to Devorah Zlochower for this reference. 77. Synopse #436, #489 (not in N8128). 78. Ibid.

two. Th e Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah 1. We have no manuscript edition of the composition we now know as the BdN. Chaim Horowitz published his version from a unique manuscript that was subsequently lost. Th e restrictive niddah traditions are fi rst named as a distinct text in the mid-thirteenth century when the physician, halakhist, and kabbalist Moses Nahmanides quotes laws in the name of a Beraita d’Massekhet Niddah. Th ere are, however, several medieval compendia of niddah laws strikingly similar to Horowitz’s text that may be abridgments or earlier versions. Moreover, Geonic sources, Ashkenazi liturgical books (Mah.zorim), and halakhic codes att est to the infl uence of its traditions in themedieval period. In an oral communication, Shaye Cohen suggested that the BdN, like the texts of Hekhalot literature, may be a compendium of older niddah traditions that were fi rst redacted as a book by the early sages of Ashkenaz who were heavily infl uenced by Palestinian traditions. Indeed, this possibility becomes even more cogent when we consider that the manuscript version of the BdN was bound with an early version of the Palestinian Talmud. See, for example, MS London Add 27129, fols. 130b–131a; MS Parma de Rossi 541, fols. 222b–225a. For a discussion of all the manuscript varia, see Marienberg, Etudes sur la Beraita d’Niddah. 2. Just as M Niddah begins with a law of Shammai, the BdN begins with the words “Shammai says.” Other traditions are att ributed to Rabbi H. anina ben Dosa, Rabbi H.iyya, Rabbi Neh. unyah ben Haqanah, and Rabbi Eleazar ben Arakh. See Schechter, “Jewish Lit- erature in 1890,” 339. 3. BT Shabbat 31a; Midrash Tanh.uma, ed., Buber, 3:5:17, 53. Menstruants are explicitly permitt ed to separate the h. allah in BT Bekhorot 27a. 4. T Berakhot 2:13. 5. On the possibility of Zoroastrian infl uence on rabbinic niddah laws, see discussion in chapter 6. On the dangers of niddot in the Middle Ages, see chapter 7. 6. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281. 7. BdN 1:2, 3; compare 2:2, 10. Th e authors of the BdN must have derived this idea from Leviticus, which deems spitt le impure. 8. BdN 2:5, 27. 9. BdN 2:5, 17.

186 · Notes to Pages 25–29 10. Ibid., 2:5, 18. 11. Ibid., 3:3, 26. 12. BdN 3:4, 30–32. 13. Ibid., 3:4, 30. Baalei qeri were similarly forbidden entry to synagogues (BdN 3:3, 26). 14. Ibid., 3:3, 26. Parturients were also barred from the holy (BdN 3:4, 30). 15. Saying “amen” exempts from the obligation to bless individually. Th erefore, were a menstruant to utt er “amen,” she would, in essence, be blessing God and thereby blas- pheming his name. 16. BT Berakhot 20a–b. 17. Ibid. 18. BdN 2:5, 17. 19. See parallels in BT Berakhot 24b; BT Shabbat 40a, 150a; BT Qiddushin 33a; BT Avodah Zarah 44b; BT Zevah. im 102b. 20. Pesiqta Rabbati, ed. Friedman, 14:5. 21. BdN 2:3. Th is fi nding is reiterated in many later sources, such as Nahmanides and Bah. ya ben Asher on Genesis 31:35; Israel al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 3:6:5; Meir ibn Aldabi, Shevilei ha-Emunah, 3:1; Pesiqta Rabbati, ed. Friedman, 14:5. 22. Th is particular prohibition may have to have infl uenced “normative” halakhah. eTh rabbis generally advocated reciting blessings before performing the commandment. In order to ensure that women pray in a purifi ed state; however, niddot were required to recite the blessing for ritual immersion aft er the fi rst of their three immersions in the ritual bath (Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 21–22; BdN 17n99). Th is convention, which be- lies the rationales of talmudic menstrual laws, is practiced by Orthodox Jewish women today. For further discussion, see my fi nal chapter. 23. BT Baba Qamma 82a; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107; Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 273–299; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy” 17–37. 24. While the Talmud does not imbue impure persons with demonic power, it does imbue those seeking demonic power with impure spirits. Th e Talmud describes magic in terms of a dichotomy between purity and impurity. Sanctioned magic is performed by means of the pure name of God, and unsanctioned magic is performed by means of the names of impurity and impure spirits. Th e rabbis, moreover, believed in the tenets of sympathetic magic, whereby like elements att ract. Th us, to perform illicit and therefore impure magical acts, the magician must visit a polluted area. See BT Sanhedrin 91a; BT Niddah 17a; BT H. agigah 3b. Th e Talmud specifi es graveyards as the site of illicit magical practice. In fact, of the six references to spirits of impurity in the talmudic corpus, four are associated with graveyards (BT H. agigah 3b; BT Sotah 3a (twice); BT Sanhedrin 65b (twice); BT Niddah 17a). 25. Lev. 21:2–3; Bickerman, “Priests and Priesthood,” Encyclopedia Judaica, 13:1089. 26. Strack and Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, 332. 27. Midrash Tanh. uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27. 28. BdN 3:2, 25. 29. BT Berakhot 61a; BT Eruvin 18b.

Notes to Pages 29–32 · 187 30. MS London Add 27129, fol. 131a. Nahmanides uses this version of the BdN in his commentary to Genesis 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177. 31. BdN 2:3, 14–15. Noted by Lieberman, on Metivot, ed. B. Lewin, 115–118, and more recently by Baumgarten, “Introduction to 4Q274,” 85–86. 32. Th is understanding seems to have infl uenced the following tradition redacted in the early Geonic Sefer ha-Miqtsoot: a high priest must not enter a home in which a niddah resides, nor may he recite the priestly blessing when any of the women in his home menstruates because, as Rav Yodan said, “Th e prayers of any priest who raises his hands [to recite the priestly blessing] when his mother, wife, or daughter is polluted, or [any priest] who enter the home of a menstruant are an abomination. His future generations are lost; he has not freed his fellow Jews from their obligation.” Because just as a high priest is forbidden entry into a home containing a corpse, a priest is forbidden entry into a home inhabited by a menstruating woman (Assaf, Sefer ha-Miqtsoot, 39). 33. Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN1:2 and 1:4, 6. Th at sexual relations with menstruating women cause leprosy became a commonplace in rabbinic culture. See discussion and relevant sources in chapters 7 and 9. 34. BdN 1:4, 6: compare BdN 3:4, 28. 35. Midrash Tanh. uma, ed. Buber, Parashat Korah. , 6; Shoft im, 7; Midrash Yelamdenu, Korah. , 1, 12. Midrash Mishlei, ed. Buber, 25. Th ere are two appearances of the come and see formula in the Talmud Bavli (Qiddushin 20a; Arakhin 30b). Here too, the formula is used to demonstrate point to sinful behavior. 36. Consider also that a menstruant may not touch the cloth that will envelope her husband’s corpse. BdN 1:5, 7. 37. Th e association between menstruation and death lies at the root of the ancient near-eastern belief in the demonic possession of menstruants. Th rough the agency of her menstrual fl ow, the menstruant is perceived to come under the infl uence of a spirit of impurity — a polluting and malignant adversary of the holy and living god; she thus becomes a potential danger to all she encounters. Th e priestly writers of Leviticus, infl u- enced by a strong antipathy to Canaanite religion, had sought to censor these understandings and instead pronounced ritual impurity to be a neutral state of being. Menstrual blood contaminates, they claimed, not the menstruant. Th us in contrast to other near- eastern cultic leaders who concentrate on exorcising spirits of impurity from the possessed, Israelite priests transferred impurity from the menstruant herself to the items that she touched, partly in order to suppress the notion that her impurity constituted any kind of possession (Milgrom, introduction to Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 44, 936). 38. Ibid. 39. Ibid., 46, 941. 40. Compare Lev. 15:3; Isa. 30:22; Ezek. 7:19–20; Lam. 1:8. Th e term niddah may refer either to a menstruant in particular or to pollution in general. Th ese examples suggest the former reading. See Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 952. 41. Th e late-antique Targum Yonatan ben Uziel interprets the term literally as impure spirit (ruah. masava) in a discourse on on Zech. 13:2. Although the JPS Bible translates these last two terms as “for purging and for cleansing,” the words literally mean “h.att at, a

188 · Notes to Pages 32–34 type of sacrifi ce, and for the menstruant.” eTh grammatically focused medieval commentator Rabbi David Qimh. i (Radaq) relates the two terms and assumes the term h.att at refers to the zavah who must bring a h.att at sacrifi ce and that the term niddah refers to the menstruant who may now become purifi ed by the living waters of the spring. When they are purifi ed, the “prophets and the impure spirit will vanish from the land.” According to this reading, Second Zechariah makes a direct connection between the purifi cation of menstruants and zavot and the exorcism of the evil spirit from the land. See Radaq’s commentary on Zech. 13:2, s.v. va-et ruah. ha-tumah. 42. Elior, Th e Th ree Temples, 24–28; Harrington, Impurity System of Qumran and the Rabbis, 62, 67. Th anks to Rachel Elior for bringing 4Q278 to my att ention. 43. DJD 35 Q274: 8–9, 101; see also comments 103; Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 949. For a diff erent interpretation, see L. B. Elder, “Th e Woman Question and Female Ascetics among Essenes,” Biblical Archeologist 57 (1994): 220–234. 44. Th e Temple Scroll, 45:10, 2:192, 47:3–6, 48:14–17, 2:386–387. All these diff erent impurities are subsumed under the term “niddah-like impurity.” 45. On the comparison between the division of the Temple and the Israelite camp, see Schiff man, “Exclusion from the Sanctuary in the Temple Scroll,” 317–318; compare Mid- rash Tanh. uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27. 46. Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 75–79, 95. 47. “Sod ha-ervah u-maqor ha-niddah,” in Th e Th anksgiving Scroll (1QS), 9:22. 48. Manual of Discipline (1QS), 11:14–15. Th ese literal translations from Qumran literature are my own. 49. “Ve-khol maaseihem la-niddah le-phanai,” in Th e Manual of Discipline (1QS), 5:19; compare 4:10–11 (polluted menstrual deeds, darkhei niddah be-avodat tumah). 50. “Mitaev kol gilulei niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:5; compare “ki ba-niddah hitgolalti,” in Th e Th anksgiving Scroll (1QH), 4:19; “Be-khol niddat tumaah,” in Pesher Hab- bakuk (1QpHab), 8:13; “Hitgolel be-ruah. niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22. 51. Th e Damascus document describes non-Zadokites as impure because they engage in sexual relations with menstruants (CD 5:7). 52. Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22. On the diff erent meanings of the term spirit in Qumran literature, see Flusser, “Dead Sea Scrolls and Pre-Pauline Christianity,” 56, 60; Licht, introduction to Th e Th anksgiving Scroll, 3–52; Licht, “An Analysis of the Treatise on the Two Spirits in the Manual of Discipline,” 87–100; Sekki, Th e Meaning of Ruah. at Qum- ran, 1–2, 99. 53. Th is text establishes a connection between the ruah. tumah in Zech. 13:2 and Satan in Zech. 3:1. Sanders, Discoveries in the Judean Desert, 4:76; compare Sekki, Th e Meaning of Ruah. at Qumran, 112n60, 170. 54. “Be-khol avodat niddat tumatam,” in Th e Scroll of the Sons of Light against the Sons of Darkness (1QM), 13:5. 55. “Ruah. niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22. Baumbach, Qumrân und das Johannes-Evangelium, 14. For diff erent interpretations, see Licht, Megillat ha-Serakhim (Rule of the Community), 104n22; Sekki, Meaning of Ruah. at Qumran, 149, 209; Vermes, Dead Sea Scroll-Qumran in Perspective, 78.

Notes to Pages 34–35 · 189 56. Nitzan, “Hymns from Qumran ‘le-phah. ed u-le-vahel’ Evil Ghosts,” 19–46. Note that although Nitzan herself does not believe that these hymns were used for magical purposes at Qumran, several other scholars do. See Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae, 19–20; Ta-Shma “Comments on Hymns from Qumran,” 440–442. 57. Chazon, “New Liturgical Manuscripts from Qumran,” 211. Th is prayer may refer to the miscegenation of the nefi limand the daughters of men in Gen. 6. 58. Several scholars have suggested an association between Qumran and Hekhalot literature. See among others, Davila, Descenders to the Chariot; Elior, Th e Th ree Temples; Schiff man, “Exclusion from the Sanctuary and the City of the Sanctuary in the Temple Scroll,” 301–320; Schiff man, “Hekhalot Mysticism and the Qumran Literature,” 121–138; Schiff man, “Merkavah Speculation at Qumran: eTh 4Q Serekh Shirot Olat ha-Shabbat.” 59. See among others, Boyarin, Borderlines; Boyarin Dying for God; Fine, ed., Jews, Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue; Fine, ed., Sacred Realms; Kalmin and Schwartz, eds., Jewish Culture and Society under the Christian Roman Empire; Schwartz, Imperialism and Jewish Society, 221–289, on Piyyut, see 264–274; Levine, Th e Galilee in Late- Antiquity; Yahalom, “Zodaic in Early Piyyut in Eretz Yisrael,” 313–322. 60. See among others, Levine, Th e Ancient Synagogue; Swartz, “Sage Priest, and Poet,” in Jews, Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue, 101–117. 61. See among many others, Neusner, Th e Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism; Neusner, “Studies on the Taqqanot of Yavneh,” 183–198. 62. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrine,” 217–267; Elior, Th e Th ree Temples. 63. Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241–244. 64. Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 134–144; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,” 162–167; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162–165, 215. 65. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 51; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,” 166; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 217–221. Lieberman believed that “a member of a non-halakhically ori- ented sect” wrote the BdN. Lewin similarly asserted that the Beraita was the work of a Palestinian ascetic sect merely informed by rabbinic practice. See Lieberman, Shqiin, 22; Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241; Lewin, ed., Sefer Metivot, 110. For other theories, see Aptowitzer, Meh. qarim be-Sifr ut ha-Qabbalah, 166–168 (Karaite infl uence); Revel, “Diff erences between the Jews of Babylonia and the Land of Israel,” 17; Finkelstein, “Per- sistence of Rejected Customs in Palestine,” 184; Dinary, “Impurity Customs of the Men- struate Woman,” 310; Maccoby, Ritual and Morality, 34. 66. Piyyutei Rabbi Yannai la-Torah u-la-Moadim, ed. Rabinowitz, 1:434 line 35, 1:436 line 54. On merkavah mysticism and piyyut, see Gruenwald, “Yannai and Hekhalot Lit- erature,” 257–277; Swartz, Mystical Prayer in Ancient Judaism, 12–13, 163, 190–191. 67. Lloyd, Science, Folklore and Ideology, 174; Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 8:132, 10:137, 11–16:140–148; Kallah Rabbati 1:11, 181; 1:17, 185; 2:2, 191; Midrash Shemuel, ed. Buber, 2:12, 26b. On the role of modesty, see PT Horayot 3:2; Barkai, Les Infortunes de Dinah, 69–82; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 50–53. 68. On the other hand, sex with a menstruant would result in leprous off spring. If these children escaped the threat of leprosy, they would be denied intellect (Leviticus Rabbah 16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN 1:2).

190 · Notes to Pages 35–37 69. BdN 1:1. 70. BT Baba Metsia 84a; BT Berakhot 20a; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 212–215. 71. Th e history of Rabbi Ishmael does not appear in Horowitz’s version of the BdN. However, it does appear in a discussion of restrictive niddah laws in an eleventh-century text from the school of Rashi entitled the Liqqutei Pardes, as well as in many subsequent halakhic texts that contain sections of the BdN. Marienberg notes that the story may either be a later interpolation, or an old tradition that was not included in Horowitz’s version (Marienberg, Niddah-Études sur le Beraita d’Niddah, 50). Israel Ta-Shma argues for the antiquity of the tradition, reasoning that the story of Rabbi Ishmael negates the halakhic sensibilities of the Rashi school and could be ignored if it were a new tradition. Th at it was included strongly suggests that the tradition was ancient (“Ritual, Custom and Reality in Franco-Germany,” 284–287). 72. Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 29. 73. On the extreme beauty of Rabbi Ishmael, see T Horayot 2:5–7; PT Horayot 3:4; BT Avodah Zarah 11b; BT Gitt in 58a. Th e angel Gabriel or simply the Sar Torah replaced Metatron in some later accounts of the story. See also, Wolfson, Speculum, 212–213n96. 74. On the etymology of the term sandaq and for an explanation of his function, see Hoff man,Covenant of Blood, 201–204. 75. Th is story appears in many versions with slight variations. Th e version presented here is that of the Geonic Sefer Miqtszoot, 13–14. Compare Midrash Eser Harugei Malkhut, ver. B in Beit ha-Midrash, ed. Jellinek, 6:20–21; Eleazar of Worms, Roqeah. , 202 par. 317; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, Hilkhot Niddah 2:23; Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 78a; Azariah de Fano, Sefer Gilgulei Neshamot, 8–29. Liqqutei Pardes, ed. Buber, 4a–b; Isaac ben Moses, Or Zarua, 4b; Horowitz, Pith. ei Niddah, 14. 76. For example, the fi gure of Rabbi Ishmael was confl ated with that of the high priest Ishmael ben Elisha. According to Sefer Miqtsoot, Ishmael believed that he merited his position because he washed his hands before blessing the congregation and would not perform sacrifi ces with priests who livedwith a menstruant. His vigilant att empt to separate himself from all types of impurity during the divine service ensured his success (cited in the name of Sefer Miqtsoot by Rabbi Abraham ben David in his gloss to BT Tamid; cited by Assaf, Sefer Ha-Miqtsoot, 39). Th ere is no legal basis for prohibiting priests from their duties when a member of their household was menstruating. Th is idea is fi rst expressed in BdN 3:2, 25. 77. See also Raanan Boustan’s discussion of Rabbi Ishmael in his From Martyr to Mys- tic, 106–113. 78. Avot dRabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. B, 41; Nahmanides, “Torat ha-Adam,” in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 2:268; Israel al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, Pereq ha-Din ve- ha-Dayan, 189; Seder Eliyahu Rabbah, ed. Friedman, 28, 153; Leqah. Tov, ed. Buber, Ex. 22:22, 164. Th e roles of Rabbi Ishmael and Shimon are reversed in Th e Tractate Mourning, ed. Zlotnick, Hebrew 8:8, 20. 79. Th e one exception is the version in Liqqutei Pardes, where Ishmael’s mother is hardly mentioned. It was his father’s att ention to purity laws that entitled him to such an illustrious son (Liqqutei Pardes, cited by Horowitz, 5:46). 80. BdN 2:1, 10.

Notes to Pages 38–39 · 191 81. BdN 3:1, 22. 82. Cited in the name of Sefer Miqtsoot by Abraham ben David in his gloss to BT Tamid. Assaf, Sefer Ha-Miqtsoot, 39. 83. Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 34. 84. BdN 2:5, 18. 85. Similarity fi rst noted by Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n76. 86. BdN 1:7, 9. 87. For sight, see Synopse #83–86; for smell, see BT Niddah 20b; Lieberman, “Knowl- edge of Halakhah,” 243. 88. Synopse #436, 489. 89. Synopse #288. 90. Th ese are red, black, a color like a bright crocus, earthy water, and undiluted wine (M Niddah 2:6). 91. Michael Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,” 151. Brahmins in India continue to eschew onions because of their strong odor. 92. Synopse #9, #149, #181. 93. Th anks to Devorah Zlochower for this reference. 94. BT Niddah 20b; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 115–117. 95. Scholem, Major Trends, 56; Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 75–83; Grözinger, “Names of God and the Celestial Powers,” 53–70; Gruenwald, Apocalyptic and Merkavah Mysti- cism, 105–107. In German Pietism, see Wolfson, Speculum, 246–248. In Kabbalah, see Idel, “Defi ning Kabbalah,” 97–122. 96. Synopse #588; See Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 80. 97. Synopse #489. 98. Ibid. 99. BdN 3:2, 25. 100. Wolfson, Speculum, 107; see also note 144; Grözinger, “Names of God and the Celestial Powers,” 60–61. 101. Pisqei Niddah, MS London Add 27129, fol. 133b. Th is two-page introductory to the niddah laws of Sefer ha-Pardes appears among a collection of nine sources on menstrual laws. Pisqei Niddah ascribes many of the rationales for marital separation during menstruation to Massekhet Niddah. As we have seen, the actual talmudic tractate does not deal extensively with the laws of separating spouses. It is therefore likely that the author refers to the BdN. 102. MS BM 27/29112, fol. 131b. 103. BdN 3:2, 25. 104. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281.

three. Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz 1. Bonfi l, “Cultural and Religious Traditions of French Jewry,” 327–348; Idel, “From Italy to Ashkenaz and Back,” 47–94; Idel, Ben, 196; Idel, “Evil Th ought of the Deity,” 356– 364; Wolfson, “Th eosophy of Shabbetai Donnolo,” 281–316.

192 · Notes to Pages 39–44 2. Ah.imaats ben Paltiel, Megillat Ah.imaats; see also the English translation, Th e Chronicle of Ah.imaats, trans. Salzman (hereaft er Th e Scroll). 3. Although Ah.imaats claims simply to document his family’s history, in fact, he fi lls his record with fabulous tales that give us important information about the culture of eleventh-century southern Italian Jewry. See Bonfi l, “Between the Land of Israel and Babylonia,” 1–30; “Myth, Rhetoric, and History?” 99–135. 4. Th is association is also noted by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 29. 5. Ah.imaats ben Paltiel, Megillat Ah.imaats, 30; Th e Chronicle of Ah.imaats, trans. Salz- man, 87–88. 6. Ibid., 12. Rabbi Shefatiah’s wife desires similar qualities for her daughter’s suitor (ibid., 26). 7. On the possibility that this Sefer ha-Merkavah refers to a specifi c book, rather than to the genre, see Idel, “From Italy to Ashkenaz and Back,” 52; Abrams, “Maaseh Mer- kabah as a Literary Work,” 329–345. 8. One might assume that the singular form “candle” would indicate that the menstruant did not light Sabbath candles since it was customary to light at least two candles, corresponding to the commandments to “observe” (Deut. 5:12) and “remember” (Ex. 20:8) the Sabbath day. However, this custom is fi rst documented in the Sefer ha-Raavyah, a legal compendium writt en by the Ashkenazi halakhist, Eliezer bar Yoel ha-Levi (d. c. 1220s). See Ta-Shma, “Early Franco-German Custom and Ritual,” 127–130. 9. Ydit, “Candles,” in Encyclopedia Judaica, 5:117–119; Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,” 352–355. 10. Megillat Ah.imaats, 30. 11. See Synopse #341; #426; #289; #495; #500; Schäfer, “Aim and Purpose of Early Jew- ish Mysticism,” 294. 12. Synopse #426, translated according to the MS Oxford 1531. MS New York ascribes the exhortation to the angel Az uyah. Note that MS Munich 40 and MS Dropsie 426 read “nizh. ar ba-sefer ha-zeh.” See also “this mishnah,” Synopse #424; “these secrets,” Synopse #705. On the importance of references to actual texts in Hekhalot mysticism, see Schäfer, “Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysticism,” 293–294. 13. Synopse #426. 14. BdN 3:3, 26. On the infl uence of the custom that niddot refrain from touching holy books — a practice found in Ashkenaz but absent in Sepharad, see Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 32. Th e absence of Sephardi restrictions on touching books is striking given the fact that ritually impure Muslims may not touch the Qurān. On the purity system in Islam, see Katz, Body of Text; Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger”; and chapter 9. 15. Th ese ideas run counter to Rabbi Judah ben Betayra’s assertion that the words of Torah are not susceptible to impurity. BT Berakhot 22a. It is important to remember that Judah ben Betayra’s statement supports the Babylonian Talmud’s abrogation of taqqanat Ezra, not of menstrual laws. 16. Megillat Ah.imaats, 19. In BT Sukkah 53b, King David inscribed the divine name on a shard of pott ery and threw it into unruly waters. Immediately, the water subsided 16,000 cubits.

Notes to Pages 44–46 · 193 17. On exorcism in the talmudic period, see Bar-Ilan, “Exorcism by Rabbis,” 17–32. 18. Lead, like iron, was used by magicians to deter demons. Montgomery, Aramaic In- cantation Texts, “Magic bowl 2”; Gaster, Holy and the Profane, 10; BT Yoma 69b; Idel, “Evil Th ought of the Deity,” 359n8. 19. Megillat Ah.imaats, 30. Th e essential diff erence between the two exorcism accounts lies in the power of the expelled demons. Basil’s daughter’s demon simply sank to the bot- tom of the sea, while the spirit of impurity in the Sefer Merkavah caused the water to recede almost a mile. 20. Grossman, “Migration of the Qalonymus Family,” 154–186; “From Father to Son,” 123–127; Eleazar of Worms, Sodot Ha-Tefi llah, trans. Marcus, Piety and Society, 67. 21. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281; Ta-Shma “Synagogal Sanctity,” 358– 359. 22. Ta-Shma “Synagogal Sanctity,” 358–359; Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 274–278; Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 6. Compare Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 23. 23. Mah. zor Vitry, 498: 605–606, 609; Sefer ha-Orah, 2:167–168; Sefer ha-Pardes, 3; Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 268. 24. Because there are no other att estations of this practice in the other works of the school of Rashi, Shaye Cohen suggests that the custom may refl ect a later development interpolated into the earlier text (“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 296n46). Israel Ta-Shma likewise notes the anomaly within the context of the Rashi school but argues for the antiquity of the tradition (“Ritual, Custom and Reality in Franco-Germany,” 284–287). 25. Sefer ha-Pardes, MS British Library Add 27129, fol. 134a; compare Isaac ben Moses, Or Zarua, 1:360, 48d, 26. Other twelft h- and thirteenth-century Ashkenazic authors condone this practice, whereas Babylonian Geonim condemned it. See Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 23–33; Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 268–272; Ta Shma, “Synogogal Sanc- tity,” 361. For Ashkenazic examples, see Eliezer ben Natan, Sefer Raavan, Hilkhot Niddah, par. 319; Aptowitzer, Mavo le-Sefer ha-Raavyah, 1:45. For Babylonia, see the responsa of Yehudai, Nitronai, Amram, and Tsemah. Gaon in Lewin, Otsar ha-Geonim, 4:48–69. Texts from Rashi’s school also laud women who separate from their husbands for a full fourteen days a month (Zimmer, Olam k-Minhago Noheg, 240–249). 27. At a certain point, as Cohen notes, this arrangement was no longer possible and menstruants in Sephardi families resumed all of their household functions, with the exception of those stipulated in the Talmud (“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 280). For a comparison between Ashkenazic and Sephardic niddah observances, see Dinary, “Profa- nation of the Holy,” 23; Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, 198. 28. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 18. 29. See chapter 8. Th e Geonim may have been infl uenced by Muslim culture when they imposed short-lived additional regulations separating husbands and their menstruating wives, such as barring menstruants from food preparation and from family meals. 30. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 18. 31. Maimonides, Guide 3:47; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 18–19.

194 · Notes to Pages 47–48 32. Some legists hold that menstruants may enter mosques, but not tarry within (Katz, Body of Text, 2). 33. See also, Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 29. 34. Grossman, H. akhmei Ashkenaz ha-Rishonim, 157–160; Soloveitchik, “Religious Law and Change,” 205–221; Ta-Shma, Minhag Ashkenaz Qadmon, 13–105; On menstrual laws in particular, see, “Minhagei Harh. aqot ha-Niddah,” 280–288; Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 269–271. 35. Oral communication with Elisheva Baumgarten. Isaac of Vienna, Or Zarua, 1:360, 48d; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, 2:18, 81. Sefer ha-Agur, par. 1. 36. Other scholars have noted Ashkenazic Jewry’s affi nity to the laws of the Beraita d’Niddah. Yedidiah Dinary, who wrote two of the most important articles on the isolation of menstruants in the Middle Ages, does not provide an explanation for the att raction. Jeff rey Woolf argues that the “explanation appears to be quite straightforward. Franco- German Jewry from its inception, maintained a fi erce loyalty to and veneration for the totality of its received sacred literature and religious lore, which it inherited from its forebears in Southern Italy” (“Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 270). 37. Hagahot ha-Ramah le-Shulkhan Arukh, Orekh H. ayim, 88:1; Ta-Shma, “On the History of Polish Jewry ,” 347–369. On the infl uence of .H asidei Ashkenaz on the separation of menstruants from their husbands in the Eastern Rite (minhag Osterreich), see Zimmer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg, 220–249. Haym Soloveitchik disagrees with Ta-Shma and Zimmer’s suggestion that H. asidei Ashkenaz infl uenced Polish Jewish law. In reference to menstruation, however, he notes that “all evidence that we possess for the hyper- sensitivity of H. asidei Ashkenaz to any form of pollution, whether physical or ritual, is with regard to the sancta with their powerful taboos, not with regard to mundane sexual relations” (Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism,” 487). 38. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 33. 39. On Pietism as a social movement, see Marcus, “Hierarchies, Religious Boundaries and Jewish Spirituality,” 7–26; Marcus, Piety and Society. See also Soloveitchik, “Th ree Th emes in Sefer Hasidim,” 311–357; “Sefer Hasidim and the Infl uence of .H asidei Ashke- naz,” 455–493. 40. I borrow the term esoteric theology (torat ha-sod) from the work of Joseph Dan, Torat ha-Sod shel H. asidut Ashkenaz. 41. Note that even Haym Soloveitchik who denied the lasting infl uence of . asideiH Ashkenaz, nonetheless concedes their enduring infl uence on later mysticism and penitential practices (Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism,” 468–469). 42. Eleazar of Worms, Sodot Ha-Tefi llah, trans. by Marcus, Piety and Society, 67. 43. J. N. Epstein suggests that the student in question was Asher ben Yeh. iel. See his Meh. qarim be-Sifr ut ha-Talmud, 2:772–773. 44. Solomon ben Yeh. iel Luria, Teshuvot ha-Maharshal, #29, p.23c. 45. Th e need to separate menstruants from sacred texts is extended to the cases that customarily housed the books. Th ese book boxes were traditionally adorned with decorations and biblical verses. While women were permitt ed to embroider the decorations, they could not embroider the writing, lest they blaspheme the name of God (Sefer H. asidim,

Notes to Pages 48–50 · 195 ed. Margaliot, 943). Note that the practice of placing books in cases may show the infl u- ence of the contemporaneous Christian custom of Bible boxes. Th e desire to protect holy texts from all impurities is also the basis of the Pietist’s prohibiting Christian contact with Jewish texts. Pietists were forbidden to pawn books to Christians or to allow Christians to rebind them. See Marcus, “Hierarchies, Religious Boundaries and Jewish Spirituality,” 14; Wineberg, “Love of the Book,” 159–175. 46. Marcus, “Political Dynamics of the Medieval German-Jewish Community,” 123. 47. Ta-Shma, “On the History of Polish Jewry ,” 368–369. 48. Dan, “Book of the Divine Name,” 34–35. 49. Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism, 485; see also, Soloveitchik, “Zim- mer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg: A Review Essay,” 229–230. 50. Ta-Shma, “Libraries of the Sages of Ashkenaz,” 299–309. 51. On the connection between asceticism in Hekhalot literature and H. asidei Ashke- naz, see Schäfer, “Ideal of Jewish Piety,” 9–23. 52. Baskin, “From Separation to Displacement,” 1–18; see also, Baskin, “Women and Ritual Immersion in Medieval Ashkenaz,” 131–142; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 86–100; ben Artzi, “Asceticism in Sefer H. asidim,” 42. 53. Baskin, “From Separation to Displacement,” 14. 54. Th e Pietists did not just copy Hekhalot traditions but rather interpolated the late- antique ideas with their own (Ta-Shma, “Libraries of the Sages of Ashkenaz,” 299–309). 55. On the reciprocity of infl uence between Hekhalot literature and . asideiH Ashkenaz, see Kuyt, “Traces of a Mutual Infl uence of the .H asidei Ashkenaz and the Hekhalot literature,” 62–86. On the mystical imaginings of the Temple among H. asidei Ashkenaz, see Wolfson, “Sacred Space and Mental Iconography,” 593–634. 56. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 91–92, 98–99; Schäfer, “Ideal of Jewish Piety and Its Roots in Jewish Tradition,” 9–23; Wolfson, Speculum, 241, 267–268. 57. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 52; Schäfer, “Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysti- cism,” 293; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,’ ” 164; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 217–221. Compare Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 364. 58. PT Berakhot 3:3,4 6c; BT Niddah 31b; BT Berakhot 21b; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 50–51; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283; Satlow, “‘Try to Be a Man,’” 40. See also the introduction to this book. 59. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Shem, MS BM 737, f. 213a, cited by Wolfson, Speculum, 239n202. 60. Sefer H. asidim, ed. Margaliot, 59 (compare 978, 979); Abrams, “‘Th e Mystery of All Mysteries,’” 70n40. 61. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 24–26. 62. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah. , par. 321, 413. 63. Wolfson, “Sacred Space and Mental Iconography,” 593–634. 64. Synopse #436, #489. 65. Eleazar of Worms. Sefer ha-Kavod, MS Oxford 1566, fol. 38b. For more on the Sefer Ha-Kavod, see Dan, Torat ha-Sod, 55–56, 58. On divine names and vision, see Idel, Kab- balah: New Perspectives, 97–103; Idel, “Defi ning Kabbalah,” 97–122; Wolfson,Speculum ,

196 · Notes to Pages 50–53 182–186, 246–248, 265–267. On Sefer ha-Shem, see Dan, “Book of the Divine Name by Eleazar of Worms,” 27–60. 66. Sefer ha-Malbush, MS British Museum Margaliot 752, fols. 92–93; MS Sasson 290, fol. 311a. Th anks to Rebecca Lesses for providing me with copies of these sources. Th e precise dating of Sefer ha-Malbush is a subject of scholarly debate. Gershom Scholem alone mentions three diff erent possibilities. In Major Trends, he connects it to Hekhalot mysticism (77); in “Tradition and New Creation in the Ritual of the Kabbalists,” to the school of Eleazar of Worms (136); and in Jewish Gnosticism, to the early post-Talmudic period. Joseph Dan describes the Sefer ha-Malbush as an early esoteric work known to H. asidei Ashkenaz (Torat ha-Sod, 74). Wolfson suggests that it is a Babylonian Geonic magical text preserved by H. asidei Ashkenaz. Although the text may not have been writ- ten by the German Pietists, it was copied by them and bears their mark (Wolfson, Specu- lum, 242). 67. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Shem, MS Munich 81, fols. 144a–145b. 68. Marcus, “H. asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 60; “Penitential Writings of the Hasidim of Ashkenaz,” 369–384; Piety and Society, 39–52. 69. Note that there is a tripartite structure in early continental Christian penitentials, such as the Rheims penitential (Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 11). On the possible infl u- ence of Christian penitential literature on H. asidei Ashkenaz, see Baer, “Socio-Religious Orientation of Sefer Hasidim,” 1–50; Fishman, “Penitential System of H. asidei Ashkenaz,” 201–229. 70. Marcus, “H. asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 75–76. 71. Marcus, Piety and Society, 42. 72. MS Bodleian Opp647, fol. 21b. 73. Eleazar of Worms, “Hilkhot Teshuvah,” in Sefer ha-Roqeah. , 14. 74. Ibid. 75. Marcus, “Judah the Pietist and Eleazar of Worms,” 19, referring to Hekhalot Rabbati 13:2, Jellinek, Beit Midrash, 3:93, Synopse #199. In the excerpt, the mystic is compared to a man who has a ladder in his home, which he ascends and descends. Th e requirements for the yored merkavah are cleanliness from idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, murder, slander, perjury, conceit, and groundless hatred and observance of all the positive and negative commandments. Peter Schäfer suggests that the reference to all positive commandments illustrates that “concern is the entire Torah.” See Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 119–121; “Ideal of Piety of the Ashkenazi Hasidim,” 9–23. 76. I have found two exceptions: (1) Darkei Teshuvah, a penitential published at the end of Teshuvot ha-Maharam, which requires an onanite or one with a nocturnal emission to fast for forty days and sit in water during the winter. Note, however, that the sin described here is “spilling seed in vain” (Shikhvat zera levatalah) not an ejaculant in intercourse. Th is text defi nes baal qeri more restrictively than does Hekhalot literature. (2) A penitential for sexual laws in MS Bodleian Opp647, fols. 20a–23a. Th e penance for baal qeri precedes that for having sexual relations with one’s menstruating wife (catalogued by Marcus in “H. asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 64). Th anks to Daniel Abrams for providing me with a photocopy of the manuscript.

Notes to Pages 53–54 · 197 77. Pachter, “Shmirat Habrit.” Th anks to Daniel Abrams for this reference. 78. One exception may be found in a version exclusively devoted to sexual laws in MS Bodleian Opp. 647, fols. 20a–23a. Th e penance for baal qeri precedes that for having sexual relations with one’s wife menstruating wife (catalogued by Marcus in “H. asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 64). 79. Judah the Pietist, Sefer H. asidim, ed. Margaliot, 509. 80. Ibid., 1126. Th is idea may have infl uenced Nahmanides’ commentary to Genesis 18:19. See chapter 7 for a detailed discussion of this verse. 81. Compare ha-H. iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah. u-venei Erets Yisrael, ed. Margaliot, par 11, p. 79. 82. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., par. 318. 83. Woolf suggests that the works of the schools of Rashi, writt en “aft er the Babylonian Talmud became the exclusive arbiter of Halakhic truth, describes niddah laws with no basis in Babylonian halakhah as custom, whereas the German Pietists appeal to an older authority, binding before the Babylonian monopoly on halakhah” (Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 271). Understanding the mystical consciousness of the H. asidei Ashkenaz, as we do here, explains the appeal of the older tradition. 84. Ashkenazim could not completely identify the synagogue with the Temple — the halakhic ramifi cations for both men and omenw would have been enormous. Ta-Shma and Woolf explain that Ashkenazim identifi ed the synagogue and Temple in terms of their symbolism and sanctity (Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,” 351–364; Woolf, “Medieval Mod- els of Purity and Sanctity, 263–280). 85. Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,” 362. 86. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 282–285; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 106– 107. 87. Grossman, H. akhmei Ashkenaz ha-Rishonim, 374–386. 88. Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 269n27. 89. See Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah. , par. 318, 204–206; MS Oxford OPP. ADD. 14, fol. 209a; Schechter, “Jewish Literature in 1890,” cited at 342. An att ribution of these laws to Saadia Gaon, though false, would have been especially signifi cant to a Pietist audience. Saadia’s philosophy profoundly infl uenced pietistic conceptions of the divine glory. Proper observance of niddah laws was essential to achieving such a vision. See Dan, Torat ha-Sod, 104–116; Scholem, Major Trends, 86; Wolfson, Speculum 126–129, 195–198. 90. Isaac of Vienna, Or Zarua, 1:360, 48d; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, 2:18, 81; Jacob Landau, Sefer ha-Agur, par. 1. On the infl uence of .H asidei Ashkenaz niddah laws on the burgeoning Polish community, see Ta-Shma, “On the History of Polish Jewry,” 355–356. Zimmer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg, 220–249. 91. Compare Toseft a H. agigah 2:1. 92. Idel, “Sitrei Arayot in Maimonides’ Th ought,” 79–91. 93. Wolfson, Speculum, 235. 94. Ibid. 95. Scholars have suggested that certain sections of Hekhalot Rabbati may allude to sexual activity within the divine realm. See Synopse #240–#245 and #189, in Halperin, “A

198 · Notes to Pages 54–56 Sexual Image in Hekhalot Rabbati,” 117–132; Synopse #94, #164, #189, in Wolfson, Specu- lum, 98–105; Schäfer, Th e Hidden and Manifest God, 24. 96. For a synoptic edition of all the known versions of Sod haEgoz, see Abrams, Sex- ual Symbolism. On diff ering theories of the provenance, see Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 11, 52–57; Altmann, “Eleazar,” 101; Dan, “H. okhmath haEgoz: Its Origin and Development,” 77; Farber, “Tfi sat ha-Merkavah be Torat ha-Sod,” especially 52, 117; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 193–197; Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved on the Th rone,” 1–62; Wolfson, Speculum, 188–269. All of the arguments concerning the provenance of the text do not detract from my thesis: H. asidei Ashkenaz developed a bisexual understanding of the Godhead and this theology contributed to their reevaluation of menstrual laws. 97. Song of Songs 6:11; Altmann, “Eleazar,” 101; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 2. 98. Ezek. 1:4–5; Arugat ha-Bosem, MS Merzbacher, fols. 73–74; MS Munich 92, fols. 10b–11a; Abrams’s synoptic edition of Sod haEgoz, in Sexual Symbolism, *4–*23. 99. Langer, “Birkat Betulim,” 54; compare MS British Museum Add 27129, fol. 131b. 100. Ibid., 57. Other authors interpret the walnut more generally, as a fertility symbol. 101. Altmann, “Eleazar,” 111–113; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, *20. 102. Altmann, “Eleazar” 106. 103. See also Abrams, Ha-Guf ha-Elohi ha-Nashi be-Qabbalah, 72. 104. BT Bekhorot 45a. Th anks to Charlott e Fonrobert for directing me to this source. See her Menstrual Purity, 57. 105. Th e Commentaries to Ezekiel’s Chariot of R. Eleazar of Worms and R. Jacob ben Jacob ha-Kohen. On the basis of this inconsistency, Abrams suggests that Eleazar did not write the most sexually explicit version. Th e anonymous author “indeed knew Eleazar’s works and read this explicit version into his text” (Sexual Symbolism, 57). Rather than slavishly follow Eleazar, the author of the tradition recorded in the Merzbacher manuscript tried to bridge the gap between Eleazar’s theology and that of the special cherub circle (54). 106. Th e h. ashmalah’s gender is also reinforced by its feminine shape — the lett er kaf k. See Sodei Razaya, 17; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 48. 107. Wolfson, “Tree Th at Is All,” 53n76; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 51. 108. See Farber, “Tfi sat ha-Merkavah be Torat ha-Sod,” 116. For more on the feminine nature of the throne, see Wolfson, “Image of Jacob,” 1–62. 109. Wolfson, Speculum, 188–269; “Image of Jacob,” 29–59, 60n4. On the sexuality of the divine name, see Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 130–131; Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 197–224. Against this view, see Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 56. 110. Note that Abrams, who argues that Eleazar did not conceive of the egoz as a bisexual symbol, concedes that the throne was a feminine symbol (Sexual Symbolism, 47–57). 111. Keter Shem Tov is also known as Sefer ha-Peer. Th e text printed by Jellinek in Ginzei H. okhmat ha-Qabbalah, 82–92, is faulty. I consulted MS Cambridge DD.11.2; MS Jews Col- lege, Montefi ore 431; and MS HNUL, 541. 112. MS Cambridge DD 10.11.2, fol. 20b; MS Jews College, Montefi ore 431, fol. 44a; MS HNUL541, fol. 23b. 113. Anima in Latin, neshamah in Hebrew. See Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 282; “. . . And Woman His Humanity,” 268–273.

Notes to Pages 56–59 · 199 114. Note that the purity requirements of the zavah and the niddah had been confl ated since the Talmudic period. See introduction to this volume. 115. Th e sexual imagery is made even more explicit by the ensuing discussion of the excitement of the cherubim. See Idel’s discussion of the female nature of the soul and the male supernal powers in “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 198–201. 116. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281.

four. Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis in Th eosophical Kabbalah 1. Here I intend to off er a general overview to the emergence of Kabbalah in the twelft h and thirteenth centuries in keeping with current scholarship. For more detailed introduction, see among others, Green, A Guide to the Zohar , 3–27; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspec- tives; Sendor, “Emergence of Provençal Kabbalah;” Wolfson, “Jewish Mysticism: A Philo- sophical Overview,” 389–437; compare Scholem, Origins of the Kabbalah. 2. Idel, “Maimonides and Kabbalah,” 31–81; Idel, “Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed and the Kabbalah,” 197–226; Wolfson, “Beneath the Wings of the Great Eagle,” 209–237; Wolfson, “Jewish Mysticism: A Philosophical Overview,” 389–437; Sendor, “Emergence of Provençal Kabbalah”; Septimus, Hispano-Jewish Culture, 39–74, 104–115. 3. Th ough the Bahir was long considered the fi rst work of Kabbalah, scholars now question its infl uence. On the Book Bahir, see Abrams, Sefer ha-Bahir; Abrams, “Bahir, Sefer Ha — ”; EJ, 2nd ed., 3:62–63; Idel, “Ha-Tefi llah be-Provans,” 265–286; Pedaya, Ha-Shem ve- ha-miqdash be-Mishnat Rav Yitshaq Sagi Nahor; compare Scholem, Origins of the Kabbalah. 4. Scholem, Ha-Qabbalah be-Geronah; Idel, “Vicissitudes of Kabbalah in Catalonia,” 25–40. 5. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 85–102; Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 51–73; Idel, “Nahmanides: Kabbalah, Halakhah, and Spiritual Leadership,”15–96; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 103–178. 6. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 210–218; Idel, “Kabbalah’s ‘Window of Opportuni- ties,’” 171–208; Green, A Guide to the Zohar, 86–87. 7. Liebes, “How Was the Zohar Writt en,” 85–138; Meroz, “Zoharic Narratives and Th eir Adaptations,” 3–63; Abrams, “Invention of the Zohar as a Book, 7–142; Huss, “K-Zohar ha-Raqia,” 43–139. 8. Huss, “K-Zohar ha-Raqia,” 43–139. 9. I borrow these terms from Peter Schäfer’s study of Hekhalot Literature, Th e Hidden and Manifest God. 10. Levenson, “Jerusalem Temple,” 32–62. 11. Th e kabbalistic focus on the Temple is in part a legacy of the Jewish mystical tradition and in part a reaction to Maimonides. Maimonides had described Temple cult ritual as a concession to the primitive needs of newly emancipated Israelites. Early kabbalists denied these assertions and, in keeping with earlier Jewish spirituality, made the Temple a central symbol of the sefi rotic realm. (See Maimonides,Guide II:32; Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Height,” 565–568; Green, Guide to the Zohar, 138–142.) Temple cult images also fi gure prominently in thirteenth-century Castilian and Catalonian Hebrew-manuscript

200 · Notes to Pages 59–65 illuminations (Kogman-Appel, “Hebrew Manuscript Painting in Late-Medieval Spain,” 246–272; Sed Rajna, “Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts from the Iberian Peninsula, 133–156). 12. Pedaya, “Divinity as Place and Time,” 60. 13. Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” 572. Brody’s unpublished dissertation was an invaluable resource for this part of my study. 14. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 5b–6a. 15. Ibid., 5a–b, 20b, 69b. 16. Gott lieb, Meh. qarim be-Sifr ut ha-Qabbalah, 564–565; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:867–940. 17. Jacob Ha-Kohen, Commentary to Ezekiel’s Chariot; Moses de Leon, Commentary of the Merkavah; Gikatilla, Commentary on the Merkavah; Farber-Ginat “Concept of Merka- vah in Th irteenth-Century Esotericism.” 18. Abrams, “Maaseh Merkabah as a Literary Work,” 343. 19. Bereshit Rabbah 47:6; 82:6; Chaze, “De l’Identifi cation des Patriarches comme Char Divin,” 5–75. Th anks to Moshe Idel for this reference. 20. Wolfson, “Face of Jacob Inscribed on the Moon,” 235–270. 21. Geronese text quoted by Meir ibn Gabbai, Avodat ha-Qodesh II: 6, 28a. Brody, 574, compare 594; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 53–54, 297n117; Scholem, “Concept of Kavvanah,” 68. 22. Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” 640. 23. Bahir, 9. See also Sod ha-Qorban le-Rav Azriel, MS Parma 1390. Th anks to Daniel Abrams for this reference. 24. Cited by Brody, “Human Hands dwell in Heaven Heights,” 578; Gikatilla, Shaarei Orah, 1:145. 25. Menah. em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d. Compare Zohar 1:190b; 3:124; Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62. 26. Lev. 10:1–2; Zohar 3:23b (RM); compare Zohar 2:110a (RM). 27. Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fol. 276a; compare Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 127–130. 28. Sefer ha-Qanah, 77a–b. 29. Zohar 2:3a–b; compare 3:75b. 30. BT Yoma 54a; BT Yebamot 63b–64a; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 128–130; Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 32–33. 31. Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 33. 32. Ibid. 33. Zohar 1:102a; Matt , Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:128; compare Zohar 1:53a. 34. Idel explains, “In the ecstatic school, ‘radical asceticism’ was not a prerequisite for ecstatic vision.” Rather than “suppress the body,” the initiate sought to “strengthen the intellect” (Th e Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafi ,a 143–144). Idel shared in private correspondence that in the thousands of folios of Abulafi a’s work, there are no specifi c ritual purifi cation techniques or exhortations to separate from women. ereTh is a “suggestion” of asceticism in the ecstatic works of Isaac of Acre, which likely infl uenced later ecstatic mystical praxis. See also Fishbane, As a Light before Dawn, 248–283.

Notes to Pages 65–68 · 201 35. See Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 73–76; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 27, 43, 142; Wolfson, Speculum, 276–277, 279–281, 285. 36. See, among others, Zohar 1:54a, 62a, 83a, 128b, 178b; 2:162b, 173a; 3:40a, 53a–54b, 152b. Th e converse of this equation is also true. When the spirit of holiness rests upon a man, the spirit of impurity cannot approach him. Zohar 2:225b; Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, positive commandment 31, 127–130; compare Natan the Physician, Zikhron Tov, MS Cambridge 485, fol. 88b. 37. Joseph Angelet, Kaf Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford 1663, fol. 92a. Th anks to Boaz Huss for providing me with a typescript of the manuscript. Compare Wolfson, Speculum, 277; “Forms of Visionary Ascent,” 223–224. On the att ribution of the Kaf Dalet Sodot to An- gelet, see Idel, “Patt erns of Redemptive Activity,” 264n46; Felix, “Peraqim be-Haguto ha- Qabbalit shel ha-Rav Yosef Angelet”; Liebes, “How Was the Zohar Writt en,” 225n298. 38. Wolfson, Speculum, 333; Wolfson, “Forms of Visionary Ascent,” 213, 231–233; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 224; Idel, “Infi nities of Torah in Kabbalah,” 144. 39. Zohar 1:129b. 40. Zohar 1:102b; Matt , Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:127. 41. Zohar 1:102a. Here the Zohar invokes a famous midrash on Gen. 18:1–10. See BT Baba Metsia 87a; BT Yoma 28b; Genesis Rabbah, 48:14, ed. Albeck, 1:490; Rashi on Gen- esis 18:8; Epstein, Otsar ha-Midrashim, 398; BdN 3:2, 24; Pirqei d’Rabbi Eliezer 35:1. 42. Zohar 1:102b; Matt , Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:128. 43. On “crossing gender boundaries” in Jewish mysticism, see the many works of Elliot Wolfson cited in the bibliography. On the fluidity of gender in the Zohar, see Hellner- Eshed, “A River Flows from Eden,” 169. Midrash Tanh. uma not only compares men to menstruants, but also claims that men menstruated until Rachel declared to her father that “the way of women was upon her” (Gen. 31:35), thereby distinguishing menstruation as a specifi cally female function. See Midrash Tanh. uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:16, 26–27; Yehudah ben Yaqar, Commentary on the Prayers and Blessings, 2:43. On male menstruation in ancient medical theory, see Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 100; on the Jewish male fl ux, see Resnick, “On the Roots of the Myth of Jewish Male Menses,” 241–263; Johnson, “Myth of Jewish Male Menses,” 273–295. 44. Zohar 3:97a. 45. Kabbalists, likely drawing from women’s practice, would pare their nails before Sabbath immersion as well (Ginsburg, Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah, 230–231). 46. Zohar 2:60b (RM). 47. BdN 1:4, 6. 48. Ibid., 3:2, 25. 49. MS British Library Add 27/29112, fol.133b, interprets the phrase “holy to me” (Lev. 20:26) as holy “to my name.” Jonah Gerondi warned men not to say the divine name unless they were in a state of complete cleanliness and sanctity. See his Iggeret ha-Teshuvah. 50. Zohar 2:3a; Matt , Zohar: Pritzker Edition 2:9–10. 51. Th e connection between the BdN and Zohar 2:3a is noted by Margaliot in his gloss and more recently by Ta-Shma in a list of examples illustrating the infl uence of Ashkenazi halakhah on the Zohar (Ta-Shma, Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar, 33).

202 · Notes to Pages 68–70 52. Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 207–213. 53. Zohar 1:50a; Matt , Zohar: Pritzker Edition 1:277. 54. Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 207–213; Idel, Sex and Eros, 53–103; Langer, Die Erotik der Kabbalah, 41–57; Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 100; Mopsik, Lett re sur la sainteté, 45–163; Scholem, Major Trends, 225–229; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 183; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 1355–1379; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161; Moses de Leon, Sefer Ha-Rimon, 216. 55. Cohen, Th e Holy Lett er, 9–59; Ginsburg, Th e Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1390–1394; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161; Todros Abulafi a, Otsar ha-Kavod, 50, 52; Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 15. Th e Italian kabbalist Menah. em Recanati asserts that women can empower the Shekhinah by engaging in licit sexual relations with their husbands (Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61b). 56. Mopsik, Lett re sur la sainteté, 45–163; Guberman, “Language of Love in Spanish Kabbalah,” 53–95; Harris, “Marriage as Metaphysics,” 197–226. On the sanctity of sexual relations in the Zohar, see, among others, Zohar H. adash, Bereshit, 11a–11b. 57. Mopsik, “Body of Engenderment,” 53. 58. Iggeret ha-Qodesh, in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:303. 59. See Idel, “Kabbalah of the Divine Names,” 97–122; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:292–295; Wolfson, Speculum, 235–281. 60. Wolfson, “Circumcision and the Divine Name,” 77–112; “Circumcision, Vision of God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215. 61. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62, 63. 62. Wolfson, “Circumcision and the Divine Name,” 77–112; “Circumcision, Vision of God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215. In Mishkan Edut, Moses de Leon derives his penance for one who has sexual relations with a menstruant from Eleazar of Worms’ Sefer ha-Roqeah. (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4.2, fol. 41b). Compare Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah. , Hilkhot Teshuvah, 3:27. Th anks to Ivan Marcus for pointing out this similarity. 63. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62. 64. Note that in a description of the ten levels of impurity that mirror those of the holy sefi rot, Yesod is described as “the donkey of purity,” a particularly potent image for one who is scrupulous in the yoke of the law (MS BN 841, fol. 247a). On the sources of this idea, see M Berakhot 1:1; BT Berakhot 31; compare Recanati, Commentary on the Torah, 79c–d; MS Vatican 236, fol. 73a. 65. De Leon therefore warns men to assume that their wives are niddah until they are certain of their purity status (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 2:2:1, fol. 40b). 66. Zohar 3:49b. 67. Natan ben Avigdor, Beurim al Derekh ha-Nistar, MS Mich. 340, fol. 31a. Natan the Physician, Zikhron Tov, MS Cambridge 485, fol. 93b, Rashi, and others had similarly asserted that the levitical prohibitions against illicit sexual relations (arayot) precede the chapters on holiness to illustrate that abstention from the arayot is a necessary precondition for sanctity. See Rashi on Lev. 19:1, s.v. qedoshim tihiyu. 68. Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved on the Th rone,” 59–62.

Notes to Pages 70–72 · 203 69. Altmann, “Motif of the ‘Shells’ in Azriel of Gerona,” 173. 70. Ibid., 178–179. 71. Ibid., 172–179. 72. MS Cambridge Dd 4.2; compare Zohar 1:19b–20a; 2:15b; 3:227a; Zohar H. adash, 38a–38b. 73. Moses de Leon, Commentary on the Merkavah in Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge 4:2, fol. 47b; Farber-Ginat, Perush ha-Merkavah le-Rav Moshe de Leon, 9–55. Eleazar of Worms similarly asserts that the missing heh signifi es an incomplete vision. However, he believed that the prophet, unaccustomed to the heavenly realm, was unprepared for a complete vision of the divine glory and saw the electrum (h. ashmal) instead. For another interpretation, see Abrams, Ha-Guf ha-Elohi ha-Nashi Be-Qabbalah, 40. 74. Idel, “Land of Israel in Medieval Kabbalah,” 170–187. 75. In his Sheqel ha-Qodesh, Moses de Leon explains that the Shekhinah is the mirror that does not shine independently — she absorbs all the light of the sefi rot above. Since she does not shine herself, she is the entryway for prophets, who even though they themselves may not be able to enter further into the sefi rotic realm, can nonetheless glimpse within because she does not shine — if she did, they would not be able to see within and achieve a divine vision. On the Shekhinah as an “optic hole,” see Wolfson, Speculum, 307. 76. BT Eruvin 21b on Song of Songs 7:14; BT Ketuvot 10a–b; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity. 77. In MS BN 841, fol. 252a, there is a discussion of ten levels of impurity, a mirror image of the holy sefi rot. eTh tenth level of impurity, the ditch, contrasts the image of the Shek- hinah, the well. Th e symbolism of openings in the land may also correspond to the sexual organ of the supernal land, the Shekhinah. See also the parallel made between the Shekhi- nah and the vagina in Zohar 3:142a. 78. Zohar 2:26b; Idel, “Land of Israel,” 174–175; Wolfson, “Circumcision, Vision of God, and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215. 79. Moses de Leon, like Gikatilla, relates the supernal foreskin to the impure Shekhinah. Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2, fol. 48a; Joseph Gikatilla, Perush al ha-Merkavah, 1:4, 49. 80. Moses de Leon may have based his interpretation on a Pietistic interpretation of the external qelippah. In the Pietist versions of Sod ha-Egoz, the green external shell is specifi cally described as the “qelippah that drops off .” Just as old blood sloughs off the wall of the uterus, the qelippah drops off its shell (Altmann, “Eleazar of Worms’ H. okhmath ha-Egoz,” English, 105, 106; Hebrew, 111, 112. Dan, “H. okhmath ha-Egoz,” appendix A, 77–78; appendix C, 81). 81. Compare de Leon on the incomplete nature of Balaam’s vision. Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge 4:2, fol. 47b; Zohar 1:262b. 82. Joseph Gikatilla, Perush al ha-Merkavah, 1:4, p. 49. 83. Zohar H. adash, 38a. 84. See, for example, Zohar 2:126b–127a; 3:65b. 85. Wolfson, Speculum, 235–281. 86. For more on this text, see chapter 5.

204 · Notes to Pages 72–74 five. Th e Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah 1. Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,” 104, 107–109. 2. Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:2:3, 317–318. 3. Mark 5:25–34; Matt . 9:20–22; Luke 8:43–48; Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:3:3, 319. 4. Rashi on BT Eruvin 21b, s.v. she-ogdot. 5. Idel, “Rabbinism versus Kabbalism,” 285–287; Kabbalah and Eros, 27–29. Compare Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,” 120–121. 6. Lev. 15:19–30. 7. BT Berakhot 31a; BT Niddah 66a; BT Megillah 28b. 8. Zohar 3:79a. 9. See also Zohar 1:175 a–b; Ginsburg, Th e Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah, 116, 292–293; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1232–1233; Wolfson, “Coronation of the Sabbath Bride,” 301–343; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161. 10. Exodus Rabbah, 23:12; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, 136; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 174, 241. See also Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 151n29. Note that while the Shekhinah is portrayed as niddah in Egypt, terrestrial women are not. According to Midrash Tanh.uma, Jewish women did not menstruate while in Egypt because their fear of the Egyptians interrupted their fl ow. Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27. 11. Compare Zohar 3:255b (RM). 12. Zohar 3:97a–b, 152b (RM). See also Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1242. 13. Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, ed. Wolfson, 136. 14. Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 49; Wolfson, “Face of Jacob Inscribed on the Moon,” 245–253. 15. Reproduction and the menstrual cycle were linked to the moon in the ancient world and the Middle Ages. See Aubart, “Th reatened Wombs: Aspects of Uterine Magic,” 421–449; Eliade, “Moon and Its Mystique,” 154–187; Wolfson, “Face of Jacob,” 267n59; Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 71; Albertus Magnus, De Caelo et Mundo, 1:1:2, 29; Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 87–88. For the association in the modern period, see Cutler, “Lunar and Menstrual Phase Locking,” 834–839. 16. Judah the Pietist, Sefer H. asidim, ed. Margaliot, par. 1148, 571–572; Eleazar of Worms, Perush ha-Roqeah. al ha-Torah, 249; Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 50; Eleazar of Worms, Sid- dur H. asidei Ashkenaz, 2:393; compare Pirqei de Rabbi Eliezer, 45. 17. Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 50. BT Megillah 22b; BT H. agigah 18a; BT Rosh ha- Shanah 23a. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah. , 130, par. 228; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha- Rimmon, 90; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 175, 177; H. ayim Vital, Pri Ets H.ayim, 452; Vital, Shaar ha-Kavanot, 76b. Note that H. emdat Yamim (1732) 2:23d–24a empowers women. See Wolfson, “Face of Jacob,” 257n13. 18. Th e idea that the Shekhinah’s behavior depends on external infl uences similarly derives from descriptions of the moon in medieval astronomy. Scholem, “Two Treatises of Moses de Leon,” 338, 381; Zohar 1:181a; 2:218b. 19. Zohar 1:38a, 1: 53a, 185a; 2:237b; 3: 95a–95b; 3:247b. According to Zohar 1:190b, God requires a sacrifi ce of atonement for Rosh .H odesh to mask the smell of the Shekhinah’s

Notes to Pages 75–78 · 205 menstrual blood; compare Joseph Angelet, “Sod Ibbur ha-Levanah,” in Kaf-Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford 1663, fol. 93b; Felix, “Peraqim be-Haguto ha-Qabbalit shel ha-Rav Yosef Ange- let,” 12–13. 20. On Joseph Hamadan, see Felix, “Teurgiah, Magiah, ve-mystica be-qabbalato shel Rav Yosef ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah”; Gott lieb, “Two Additional Treatises by Joseph Hamadan,” 170–173; Idel, “Additional Remnants from the Writings of Joseph Hamadan,” 47–55; Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 109–125; Liebes, Studies in the Zohar, 103–126; Mopsik, Joseph de Hamadan. On Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, see Altmann, “On the Question of the Authorship of the Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot,” 256–276, 405–412; Meier, “Critical Edition of the Sefer Taamey ha-Mitzwoth,” 1–7. Nine of the thirteen manuscript versions of the Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot identifi ed by Altmann (256) contain the mystery of the niddah. I use MS Jerusalem 8o597 as the base text for the discussion, citing varia when necessary. 21. Th is is not the only parallel between supernal man and woman and their human counterparts. Hamadan explains that just as the moon is illuminated and fi lled by the effl ux of the sun, man enlightens woman. eTh parallel extends beyond sociology to biology. According to medieval theories of medicine adopted from the Greeks, men were made up of hot and dry elements, and women of cold and wet. Th is distribution of qualities also belongs to the cosmic order. Th e male sun rules during the day and is responsible for the growth of warm and dry vegetation, while the moon rules during the night, freshen- ing springs of water and promoting the growth of cold and wet plants. Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a. 22. BT H. ullin 60b; Zohar 1:168a–b, 252a. For a diff erent interpretation, see Zohar 1:73b, where the sins of man cause the fl aw in the moon. 23. Th e blessing over the new moon is compared to the marriage ceremony (qiddushin). Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a. 24. Hamadan associates the thirty-day limit on the Nazirite vow to the Shekhinah’s menstrual cycle. Because the Nazirite state is intricately connected with the supernal woman, women are permitt ed to become Nazirites (Num. 6:2). Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 187a; Ms BN 850.3, fols. 230a–231b. 25. For a discussion of diff erent types of valid water, see Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Miqvaot, 11:1–12. 26. BT Eruvin 4b; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Miqvaot, 1:1; 4:2. 27. BT Baba Batra 65b; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Miqvaot, 6:6. 28. Kabbalists oft en compare dynamic interplay in the heavenly realm and the process of emanation to rivers, streams, and fountains. Th e fi nal sefi rah, the Shekhinah, is enoft compared to the ocean or a well. Hamadan incorporates this association into the image of the Shekhinah as a miqveh. Th e symbol of the supernal ritual bath is usually applied to the sefi rah of .H esed, lovingkindness. See among others, Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Nefesh ha- Hakhamah, par. 63, n.p.; Zohar 3:54a; Menah. em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 12:1; on Yesod as a miqveh, see Zohar 1:244b. 29. Note that the Zohar compares seminal emission to a spring of water. Spring water is not drawn and would be valid for use in a miqveh. See Wolfson, “Coronation of the Sab-

206 · Notes to Pages 79–80 bath Bride,” 305; on male and female waters, see Wolfson, Circle in the Square, 110–115, 227n160, 228n168. 30. Th e fl ow of divine energy refl ects medieval medical theory. Just as medieval physicians believed that sperm originates in the brain and then fl ows throughout the torso to the penis, kabbalists posited that the supernal effl ux fl ows through sefi rot to Yesod, the divine phallus. Compare Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 46a. 31. Wolfson, “Circumcision and the Divine Name,” 77–112; “Circumcision, Vision of God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215. 32. Compare Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c. 33. Compare Joseph Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 326b. 34. Compare Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c. 35. Th e writt en Torah is a symbol of Tiferet. Its secrets are brought to light by the oral Torah, the Shekhinah. Th e comparison between the writt en Torah and a ritual bath in the passage is therefore signifi cant. Tiferet not only purifi es the Shekhinah but also, as the writt en Torah, also purifi es Israel. 36. See Kushnir-Oron, “Ha-Peliah ve-ha-Qanah, 82, 104; Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Writt en,” in Studies in the Zohar, 103–110. 37. Zohar 3:272a (RM). 38. M Niddah 7:4. Epstein, Introduction to the Text of the Mishnah, 124; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 222n11; Harrington, Th e Impurity Systems of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271. Th e Toseft a refers instead to women’s bath houses. Lieberman, Toseft a Rishonim, 15:1, p. 278. Josephus describes the need for women to leave their homes while menstruating, but it is likely that he is describing the practices of Israelites in the desert (Num. 5:2–3) rather than the actual practice of fi rst-century Jews. Josephus,Antiquities, 3:11, 3. Albeck, addenda to Mishnah Niddah, 589; compare Dinary, “Impurity Customs of the Menstru- ate Woman,” 309n55. 39. Videvdad, 183; Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism, 1:307n77; Culpepper, “Zoroas- trian Menstruation Taboos”; Elman, “Scripture versus Contemporary Needs: A Sasanian/ Zoroastrian Example,” 153–169; Kessler, Th e Falashas, 70; Schwarz, Ethiopian Jewish Im- migration, 209–214. 40. BT Rosh H. odesh 26a; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 18–19. 41. Harrington, Impurity System of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271. 42. Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 275–276; Elman, “Scripture versus Contempo- rary Needs,”153–169. 43. See Rashi on BT Niddah 56b, s.v. beit ha-temeot; Nahmanides on Gen. 31:35, ed. Chavel, 1:387–388; Nahmanides on Lev. 12:4, ed. Chavel, 2:66; Harrington, Th e Impurity Systems of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271. 44. Sifra 5:12; Numbers Rabbah, 10:8; Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 2:1–3, 8; ver. B, 3:1–4, 12. 45. Sifra, 9:12; BT Shabbat 64b. Note that Rabbi Aqiva’s lenient ruling is not an att empt to relieve women’s suff ering; rather, he is concerned to relieve the suff ering of a man living with an unatt ractive wife.

Notes to Pages 80–82 · 207 46. Th e BdN presents both opinions: BdN 1:2, 5; 1:3, 5; 2:1, 11; 3:1, 21. See also Finkel- stein, “Persistence of Rejected Customs in Palestine,” 184. 47. E.g., Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., 204–206, par. 318; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, 2:18, 81; Abraham ben David, Perush al Sifr a, 12:8. 48. E.g., Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 6b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha- Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fols. 177a, 178a; Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, ed. Zwelling, 346. 49. Sefer Halakhot Gedolot, 1:347; Sefer Miqtsoot, in BdN, 51; see also Yannai, Mah.zor Piyyutei Yannai, ed. Rabinowitz, 432n17. Th e roots of this custom may lie in Zoroastrian practice. Zoroastrian menstruants wore special clothing that had been worn by a woman who had given birth to a stillborn child or had come into contact with a corpse (Vendidad, 79; now newly translated by Samuel Secunda, “Ki Derekh Nashim Li,” Videvdad 16.2.2, 339). Karaites required menstruants to wear menstrual clothing and considered the clothes polluting (Sefer Halakhot Gedolot, 3:347n29). 50. Mah. zor Vitry, 499, 606; Sefer ha-Orah, 2:1, 167; Sefer ha-Pardes, 358; Hagahot Mai- muniyot, 18; Ta-Shma, Minhag Ashkenaz ha-Qadmon, 50–51. 51. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 344. 52. Ibid., 346; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; Zohar 1:238b. 53. Zohar 3:152b (RM). 54. Margaliot’s gloss to Zohar 3:152b (RM). Moses de Leon may have edited this collection of Geonic responsa. Wolfson, “H. ai Gaon’s Lett er and Commentary on Aleynu,” 367. 55. Clothing was a common means of disclosing the character and deeds of men, angels, demons, and sefi rot in medieval Kabbalah. Changes in clothing oft en refl ect changes in spiritual status. Cohen-Alloro, Sod ha-Malbush be-Sefer ha Zohar; Scholem, “Paradise Garb of Souls,” 297–306; Wolfson, “Secret of the Garment in Nahmanides,” 25–49; Wolf- son, Speculum, 312–313. 56. Zohar 1:238b; compare 3:54a, 152a. Th e Shekhinah is oft en described in terms of Isaiah 34:6, “the sword of the Lord is fi lled with blood,” and Isaiah 63:2, “why is your clothing red?” On sefi rot and colors, see Idel, “Kabbalistic Prayer and Colors,” 17–27. 57. Biale, Eros and the Jews, 45.

six. Th e Ontic Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah 1. For example, Ezek. 6:17; Lam. 1:8, 4:14; Jer. 13:22; Ezra 9:11. 2. Compare Ricoeur, Symbolism of Evil, 35; on the complicity between sexuality and defi lement, see p. 28. 3. Isa. 45:7. 4. Bahir, 77; see Scholem, Origins, 147. 5. ibn Shueib, Perush al Beur ha-Ramban, 24b. Th e printed version falsely ascribes this work to Meir ibn Sahula. See Horowitz, Th e Jewish Sermon in Fourteenth-Century Spain, 14–16, 159–170; Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 55; Pedaya, “ ‘Flaw’ and ‘Cor- rection’ in the Concept of the Godhead,” 187n8.

208 · Notes to Pages 82–85 6. Zohar 2:263a; compare Zohar 1:146b–147a (Sitrei Torah), 1:160a, 1:194a; MS BN 841, fols. 245b–253a; Idel, “Zohar Translation of R. David b. Yehudah ha-H. asid,” 84–98; MS Parma 1896/6, fols. 201a–203a; MS Parma 2654, fols. 279b–280. Joseph Angelet, Kaf Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian 1663, fol. 93a. 7. Gott lieb, Ha-Qabbalah be-Sof ha-Meah Yod Gimmel, 111; Ha-Qabbalah be-Kitvei Rab- benu Bah. ya ben Asher, 23n74. 8. Zohar 2:162b. On the divine body, see also Eilberg-Schwartz, ed., Th e People of the Body, especially contributions by Eilberg-Schwartz, Wolfson, and Janowitz; Idel, “Image of Man above the Sefi rot,” 41–55; Idel, “Sefi rot above the Sefi rot,” 238–280; Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis in the Kabbalah,” 197–224; Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 99; Mopsik, “Body of Engenderment in the Hebrew Bible,” 49–73; Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,” 104; Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved upon the Th rone,” 1–62. 9. See Scholem, “Sitra Ah.ra,” 73; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 2:460. 10. Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 335–336. 11. Wolfson, “Left Contained in Right,” 27–52. In Lurianic Kabbalah, see Tishby, Torat ha-Ra ve-ha-Qelippah be-Qabbalat ha-Ari, 52–61. For a possible source, see Idel, “Evil Th ought of the Deity,” 354–356, 358. 12. Note these sefi rot are associatedwith the female. Binah and Shekhinah are feminine aspect of the divine, and Gevurah (grammatically feminine like the other two) is the divine source of terrestrial women. 13. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 222–234; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:376– 379. 14. Zohar 1:147b (Toseft a); Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 190–191; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:376–379; Wolfson, “Woman — Th e Feminine as Other,” 189; Wolfson “Images of God’s Feet,” 168; Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 44–46. 15. Lauterbach, “A Signifi cant Controversy,” 60–61. Exodus Rabbah, 3:4; 34:1; 37:4; Numbers Rabbah, 4:13; BT Sukkah 4b–5a; BT Rosh ha-Shanah 31a; BT Menakhot 43b; Sifre ba-Midbar, 115. 16. Zech. 5:8. 17. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, cited in Idel, Rav Menah. em Recanati ha- Mequbal, 91; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 61–67. 18. Brinner, “Understanding and Misunderstanding,” typescript, 17, 21. I am indebted to Brinner for providing me with a copy of his then-unpublished work. 19. Ibid., 15. 20. Ibid., 15–16. 21. For an example of the Shekhinah as a passive vessel, see Zohar 1:181a. 22. Zohar 3:277a (RM). 23. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 345–346; Moses de Leon, “Commentary on the Haggadah,” in Haggadah Shlemah, 121–132; Joseph Gikatilla, “Commentary on the Hag- gadah,” in Haggadah Shlemah, 111–120. 24. On mei niddah and niddah, see BT H. ullin 109b; Zohar 1:27b. 25. Isaac of Acre, Meirat Einayim, 29, 154, 198; Zohar 3:142b; Joseph Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 326a; Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c; Tishby, Th e Wisdom

Notes to Pages 85–88 · 209 of the Zohar, 1:375. For the possible midrashic source of this idea, see Targum Yonatan ben Uzziel on Gen. 4:1. 26. Th e roots of this idea may be found in Leviticus Rabbah, 19:5, where the image of the zavah is compared to a period of tribulation for Israel. Compare Joseph Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 342a; see also fols. 324a–325b, in which Angelet explains that just as a woman is polluted by blood, man may be polluted by sin; just as menstruants must conduct internal examinations during their “clean days” to determine their purity status, man must introspect to ensure that he is pure of all sins. On Angelet’s image of the righteous soul as clear glass, see Wolfson, Speculum, 276–277. 27. Zohar 1:53b, 221b, 242a; 2:27b; 3:19b. For the roots of the idea, see Genesis Rabbah, 21:9. 28. Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 4b, 6b. 29. Joseph Angelet, “Sod Miqreh ve-Pegiah,” in Kaf-Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian 1663, fols. 91b–92a; Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 324a; Zohar 3:79a. 30. Gen. 3:4–7. 31. BT Eruvin 100b; Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 1:4. 32. Targum Yonatan ben Uzziel on Gen. 4:1; BT Shabbat 146a; BT Yebamot 103b; BT Avodah Zarah 22b. See Rashi on BT Shabbat 146a, s.v. ke-sh-ba ha-nah. ash al h.avah. 33. Biale suggests that the serpent’s fi lth refers to seminal pollution Eros( and the Jews, 45). Boyarin suggests that the “fi lth” thatthe serpent introduced into Eve was the desire for illicit sexual relations, “adultery or bestiality or both” (Carnal Israel, 82). 34. BT Niddah 65b. 35. Barr, “Question of Religious Infl uence: eTh Case of Zoroastrianism, Judaism and Christianity,” 201–235; Neusner, “How Much Iranian in Jewish Babylonia,” 139–149; Neus- ner, Judaism, Christianity, and Zoroastrianism in Talmudic Babylonia; Neusner, Judaism and Zoroastrianism; Williams, “Zoroastrian and Judaic Purity Laws,” 72–89; Elman, “Accul- turation and Elite Persian,” 31–56; Elman, “Scripture versus Contemporary Needs,” 153– 169. In his excellent dissertation, Samuel Secunda argues that Zoroastrian and Sassanian rabbinic sources regarding menstruation represent part of a greater “conversation” that took place in Sassanian Iran” (“Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ” 10). I have been able to refi ne many of the following arguments that I made in my 1999 dissertation with the aid of his research. 36. Choksy, Purity and Pollution in Zoroastrianism, xxii–xxvii, 95–103. 37. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 294n25; Gafni, “Babylonian Rabbinic Cul- ture,” 241; Kohut, Sefer Arukh ha-Shalem, 3:169; Levi, Neuhebräisches und chaldäisches Wörterbuch, 1:430. Dastanistan is the Persian term for Zoroastrian houses of impure women. See Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism, 307n77; Secunda, “Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ” 20–23. 38. BT Avodah Zarah 18a, noted by Secunda, “Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ” 24. 39. Ibid. 40. Hebrew translation of the way of women is upon me above “Derekh Nashim Li,” Gen. 31:35; BT Avodah Zarah 24b; see also BT Avodah Zarah 18a. Secunda suggests that the rabbis claim the etymology of this term as a polemical response to Zoroastrian men-

210 · Notes to Pages 88–90 strual laws (“Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ”29–31). See also BT Berakhot 8b, where Rabban Gamliel admires the Persians because “they are temperate in their eating, modest in the privy, and chaste in another matt er.” 41. BT Shabbat 110a. Th e ensuing exhortation to assault the serpent with nail parings and hair similarly suggests Persian infl uence, for Zoroastrians considered these trimmings as polluting as the dead (Boyce, History of Zoroastrianism, 1:309). 42. Bundahis, 3:5, 15n4; Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, 183. 43. Bundahis, 3:5:15–16; Culpepper, “Zoroastrian Menstrual Taboos,” 201; Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, 183–184. 44. “Zatspram,” in Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, trans. Zaehner, 351. Ashkenazi Jews also believed that female demons menstruated (Scholem, Kabbalah, 325). 45. Alexander Kohut assumes that the Bundahis myth was the source of the rabbinic tradition (“Über die jüdische Angelologie und Dämonologie in ihrer Abhängigkeit vom Parsismus,” 63, 66; see also Eliade, “Moon and Its Mystique,” 165–166). Th is reading does not necessarily contradict Biale and Boyarin, since the image of the serpent instilling fi lth admits of many diff erent exegeses. Interpretations of subsequent exegetes refl ect their particular concerns. Biale’s association of fi lth with seminal pollution corresponds to Pal- estinian rabbinic emphasis on baal qeri, discussed in chapter 1 (Eros and the Jews, 40). Boyarin’s association of fi lth with illicit sexual behavior points to a rabbinic belief in women’s insatiable lust (Carnal Israel, 82). On the sitra ah. ra and lasciviousness in Kabbalah,, see Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 100; Scholem, “Sitra Ah. ra,” 56–83; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 2:509–514, 529–532. 46. Zohar 1:25b, 36b, 47a, 52b, 63b, 70b, 122b, 126 a–b, 145b, 228b; 2:194a, 168a, 193b, 236b, 242b; 3:97b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178b; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c. Samael is oft en described as a fi lthy zohama)( impure spirit (ruah. masava de-zohama). 47. Isaac of Acre, diff ering from the Zoharic interpretation that follows, does not off er a dualistic interpretation of the sefi rotic realm. For Isaac, menstruation is a force created within Judgment. Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 29; compare Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b. 48. Conversely, when the Shekhinah is strong, no impure force can approach her. For example, she was able to protect Sarah from the impure powers of Pharaoh. See Zohar 3:276a (RM). 49. Zohar 3:79a; 1:190b. Some kabbalists combine the midrash of the serpent instilling fi lth into Eve with the symbol of the Shekhinah as moon to create a lunar myth of the origin of menstruation. When the Shekhinah is impure, she att racts the spirits of impurity from the sitra ah.ra. Th us aroused, the evil serpent darkens the moon with a stain (ketem, the halakhic term for blood spots). Her impurity is made manifest by the dark phase of the moon. See Zohar 1:131a, 1:65a, 192b; 3:247b; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Nefesh ha- Hakhamah, 14; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; H. ayim Vital, Pri Ets H.ayim, 19:3, 458–459. Like terrestrial women, the moon will be freed of all traces of blemish and restored to her former state of brilliance in the messianic age (Midrash Tehillim, ed. Buber, 146:4). Th e

Notes to Pages 90–91 · 211 nexus of menstrual impurity, impure spirits, the moon, and the eschaton is evident in the Zohar, where the verse “and I will cause the spirit of impurity to pass from the land” is used most consistently in connection with the restoration of the moon in the messianic age. See Zohar 1:70b, 73b, 114a, 124a, 131a, 163a–b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha- Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c. 50. Zohar 1:48a, 53b–54, 58a, 100a; 3:41b, 47a; Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cam- bridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 33a; Cohen-Alloro, “Ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf be-Sefer ha-Zohar”; Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the Commandments,” 243. 51. Zohar 1:25b, 36b, 47a, 52b, 122b, 126a–b, 145b; 2:111a, 194a; 3:79a; Joseph Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS British Museum 771, fol. 326a; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha- Torah, 61c. On the identifi cation of the Shekhinah with the serpent, see Zohar 3:119b; compare Zohar 1:64a. Joseph Hamadan describes the sitra ah. ra as eighty pilagshim (Sefer Tashaq, 313). 52. Zohar 2:125a, 128a. 53. Zohar 3:124b–125a (RM); compare 1:148a–b (Sitrei Torah). Th e demon Lilith is explicitly described as a niddah, maidservant, Gentile woman, and harlot in the RM; Giller, “Enlightened Will Shine,” 75; Wolfson, “On Becoming Female,” 323; Koren, “Men- struant as Other in Medieval Judaism and Christianity,” 33–59. Compare MS BN 841, fols. 246b–247a. 54. Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, ed. Pines, 3:47, 595. 55. Idel, “Evil Th ought of the Deity,” 356–364. On the possibilities of Zoroastrianism infl uence in Kabbalah, see Tishby,Torat ha-Ra ve-ha-Qelippah b-Qabbalat ha-Ari, 16; Stroumsa, “Zoroastrian Origin to the Sefi rot?” 17–33. 56. Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Writt en,” 103–110. 57. Pines, “A Parallel between Two Iranian and Jewish Th emes,” 51. Against this view, see Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Writt en,” 206n109; Felix, “Teurgiah, magiah ve-mistica be-qabbalto shel Rav Yosef ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah,” 5–11. 58. Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddess, 181. 59. Joseph Hamadan off ers a very diff erent version of this idea, endowing the concubine with a positive aspect in his discussions of the “pilegesh of the Holy One” (Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS BN 817.3, fol. 162a). See also Idel, “Additional Fragments from the Writings of Joseph Hamadan,” 47–48, 52–53; Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 104–152. 60. Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 48a; Scholem, “She- khinah,” 190–191. 61. Note that when the Shekhinah is impure, her character is altered by “the Mystery of the Storm Wind,” “the external shell,” and “the Mystery of the Entrance to the Land.” Th ese all refer to her menstrual cycle. See chapter 4. 62. Th is phrase is a play on Jeremiah 3:3–4: “you had the brazenness of a street woman, you refused to be ashamed. Just now you called to Me, ‘Father! You are the Companion of my youth.’ ” 63. A play on Psalms 106:39: “thus they became defi led by their acts, debauched through their deeds.” Moses de Leon continues by explaining that the male sins in qeri while the female in the botsinei (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge, Dd 4:2:1, fol. 48a). In this section,

212 · Notes to Pages 91–92 however, de Leon may refer to a popular saying in rabbinic literature: If there are no willing partners, men and women intent on committ ing adultery will satisfy themselves by other means. Men will substitute a “large squash” with a small hole for a woman and emit semen in vain (be-qeri), while women will substitute a small squash (be-botsinei) for a man. See BT Megillah 12a–b; BT Sotah 10a; Rashi on BT Sotah 10a s.v. qari u-botsinei; Kohut, Arukh ha-Shalem, 7:183; Liebes, “Peraqim be-Milon Sefer ha-Zohar,” 141–151, 161– 164; Wolfson, “Woman — Th e Feminine as Other,” 178–180. 64. Zohar 1:122b. 65. Zohar 3:226a (RM). 66. MS Parma 2654, fol. 276a, probably writt en by Joseph Hamadan, suggests a similar connection between the image of a maidservant taking her mistress’s rightful place and menstrual impurity. When the serpent instilled his fi lth (menstruation?) into the Shekhi- nah, he weakened the pure, divine channels and empowered the pilegesh, named Timna, giving her access to the divine realm. Timna, which means “she who was prevented,” tried to take the place of her pure mistress and ascend through the holy sefi rot. She was literally timna, prevented, from this ascent by the sefi rah of Tiferet. 67. Th e lett er heh is the fi nal lett er in the tetragrammaton. Compare Zohar 1:27. 68. Lev. 14:34–35. 69. Zohar 3:281b–282a (RM). 70. Compare Zohar 3:272b (RM). 71. See Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 51–54; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 190–191; Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:382–384. 72. Tishby, Th e Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:382–384. 73. Joseph Angelet, Kaf-Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian 1663, fol. 89b–90b. Yannai, the early medieval liturgical poet, compared the hardships of the menstruant to the hardships of Israel in exile. See his Mah. zor Piyyutei Yannai, ed. Rabinowitz, on Lev. 15:25, 432–433. 74. M Kelim 1:5–9. 75. Zohar 2:3. On the connection between sexual immorality and the exile of the She- khinah, see BT Sotah 3b; Sifr e on Deut. 23:15, 258. See also Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Th eology, 205–206. 76. Zohar 2:3a–b. 77. Th anks to Moshe Idel for providing me with a typescript of the MS BN 841 version of Sod ha-Nah.ash. Scholem, Major Trends, 398–399; “Sitra Ah. ra,” 79–80. 78. Compare Isaac ha-Kohen, “Treatise on the Left Emanation,” ed. Scholem, 249n1; Origins, 298. 79. “Mystery of Shaatnez,” in Gott lieb, “Kabbalah of Rabbi Joseph Gikatilla”; Maarekhet Elohut, 278. 80. Philo explains that a man should not engage in sexual relations with menstruating women lest he waste his generative seed “for the sake of a gross and untimely pleasure” (Special Laws, 3:32). 81. Joseph Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fols. 275b–276a. 82. Eilberg-Schwartz, “Problem of the Body for the People of the Book,” 23; Eilberg- Schwartz, Savage in Judaism, 141–177.

Notes to Pages 92–95 · 213 83. Leviticus Rabbah, 25:8, Numbers Rabbah, 10:1; M Niddah 5:4. Compare the association between sexuality and orlah in Ezra of Gerona, Perush Shir ha-Shirim, in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 2:743d; Bah. ya ben Asher on Lev. 19:23, 2:529; Recanati, Taamei ha- Mitsvot, 80b–c. 84. Compare Shaarei Tsedeq 10a, where Gikatilla explains that the biblical laws of zavah are stricter than those of niddah because the niddah’s fl ow is restricted to a certain cycle whereas the zavah’s fl ow is not restricted to any temporal boundary (it is “out of place”). For this reason, Num. 5:2 banned zavot rather than niddot from the Israelite camp. 85. Compare Douglas, Purity and Danger, 53. On miscegenation in the RM, see Giller, “Enlightened Will Shine,” 84–85. 86. Joseph Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fol. 277b; Zohar 1:126b; 2:111a; 3:79a; compare al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85; Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the Commandments,” 244. 87. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 4; Douglas, Implicit Meanings, 53. 88. Ibid.,113. 89. Ibid., 124. Th at pollution taboos are socially constructed corresponds to Fou- cault’s understanding of how our att itudes toward sexuality are determined by the order in society (History of Sexuality, 3–13). 90. Flory, Marian Representations in the Miracle Tales of Th irteenth-Century Spain and France. 91. Koren, “Interpreting Text, Gender, and the Other,” 33–59. 92. On the much-debated subject of divine union in Kabbalah, see also Abrams, Ha- Guf ha-Elohi ha-Nashi ba-Qabbalah; Hellner-Eshed, A River Flows fr om Eden, 69–74; Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 211–212; Idel, Eros and Kabbalah, especially 131; Liebes, “Zohar ve-ha-Eros,” 67–119; Scholem, Origins, 142; Scholem, Major Trends, 223, 227; Wolf- son, “Woman — Th e Feminine as Other,” 167, 169; Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,” 85–92; Wolfson, Speculum, 358–360. 93. Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 186; Wolfson, Speculum, 360. 94. Zohar 1:232a; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 186; Wolfson, “Woman — Th e Feminine as Other,” 188; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:372. 95. Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,” 99–104, 108–110; Sendor, “Isaac the Blind’s Commentary on Sefer Yetsirah,” 1:12–13. See also Joseph Gikatilla’s play on the words breasts (shadayim) and demons (shedim) in Shaarei Tsedeq, 4b–5a; on the symbolic relationship between language and anatomy, see Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medi- cine, 16. Th e example cited above from Zohar 1:232a does not correspond to this paradigm: when the angel “stands in Judgment upon the world it is called female, like a woman who is pregnant, she is fi lled with Judgment and then called female.” Compare Hellner,A River Flows fr om Eden, 72, 169. 96. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, ed. Meier, 127–130. On the male androgyne in Hamadan, see Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,” 81–82. 97. One could argue that there is an orthographic error in the manuscript. Th e lett er yod could have been unwitt ingly elongated to produce vav, thereby confusing hu for hee. It would be more diffi cult for a scribe to confuse vav for heh, thus mistaking darko for a

214 · Notes to Pages 95–97 darkah. Most manuscript variants confi rm these readings. Only two manuscript variations read darkah, “her way.” MS Escorial Heb MS. 4.17 and MS Palatine Library Parma Heb. 1231; see varia in Meier, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 127. 98. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fols. 177a–179b. 99. Th e term used is a masculine possessive, be-fgimo. All the other pronouns are feminine. 100. Bi-shlimo (masculine personal pronoun). Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 346. Note the integration of the feminine into the masculine in a manuscript variant that reads “on the head of the matronita stands his crown.” 101. Zohar 1:122b.

seven. Th e Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law 1. On the intersection of science and religion among Jews, see Langerman, “Accep- tance and Devaluation,” 223–245; Ruderman, Jewish Th ought and Scientifi c Discovery; Ru- derman, Kabbalah, Magic, and Science. Among Christians, see Biller and Ziegler, Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages; Ziegler, Medicine and Religion c. 1300; Risse, Mending Bodies, Saving Souls. 2. Courtenay, “Curers of Body and Soul,” 69–75. 3. Th e most popular source of medical authority in the Bible was Eccl. 38:1–15. See Ziegler, Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages, 5. 4. Courtenay, “Curers of Body and Soul,” 69–75. 5. On the fusion of medicine and theology by Arnau de Villanova, see Ziegler, Medi- cine and Religion c. 1300; Michael R. McVaugh, “Moments of Infl ection: eTh Careers of Arnau de Villanova,” in Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages, 47–68. On Peter Lom- bard, see Biller, “Inquiry into the Origins of the Idea of ‘Sex Ratio,’ ” 27–52. On Hildegard of Bingen, see Jacquart, “Hildegard et la physiologie de son temps,” in Hildegard of Bingen, 121–134. 6. Shatzmiller, Jews, Medicine, and Medieval Society, 22–35, 39–55. 7. Ibid., 140. 8. M Niddah 2:5–6. 9. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c; compare Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 29. Ibn Shueib oft en quotes Isaac the Blind and identifi es him simply as “the pious rabbi” ha-Rav( he-H. asid). Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 55; Pedaya, “ ‘Flaw’ and ‘Correction’ in the Concept of the God- head,” Daat 6 (1987): 189n23. For more on ibn Shueib, see Horowitz, Th e Jewish Sermon in Fourteenth Century Spain, 14–16, 159–170. 10. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 42–43; Lloyd, Science, Folk- lore, and Ideology, 59; Lacey, Th e Family in Classical Greece. 11. Hertz, “Pre-eminence of the Right Hand,” 9. 12. Th is duality continues into the modern period and has been discussed at length by scholars of gender studies. See, among others, Beavoir, Th e Second Sex, 3–38, 253–266; Bordo, Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body, 165–184; Cixous and

Notes to Pages 97–100 · 215 Clément, Th e Newly Born Woman, 63–132; Cixous and Clément, “Laugh of the Medusa,” 212–218; Sherry Ortner, “Is Female to Male as Nature Is to Culture?” in Feminist Th eory: A Reader, 203–211. 13. Lloyd, “Right and Left in Greek Philosophy,” 56–66. 14. Preus, “Galen’s Criticism of Aristotle’s Conception Th eory,” 68. On Hippocrates’ use of right and left , see Green, “Transmission of Ancient Th eories of Female Physiology and Disease,” 14. 15. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 66–68. 16. Green, “Transmission of Ancient Th eories,” 42. 17. Ibid., 43; Galen, On the Usefulness, 14:10:641–642; Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexual- ity and Medicine, 50–51. 18. On the similarities between Hippocratic and talmudic constructions of gender, see Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 60–63. 19. Preus, “Galen’s Criticism,” 84. 20. Ibid., 72–73. 21. Note that Aristotle had never dissected a cadaver and was unaware of the existence of ovaries. Aft er Herophilus engaged in human dissection and discovered the ovaries, physiologists were forced to acknowledge the analogy of the ovaries to the testes. Galen rejected Aristotle’s model and affi rmed the existence of female seed (Preus, “Galen’s Criti- cism,” 83). 22. Aristotle, On the Generation of Animals, 4:1:12–27. 23. BT Niddah 25b, 31b; Rosner, “Sex Determination in the Talmud,” 173–178. For a very diff erent understanding, see BT Gitt in 57a. On Aristotle and the rabbis, see Preuss, Biblical and Talmudic Medicine, 389; Newmyer, “Talmudic Medicine and Greek Sources,” 34–57. Note that the Talmud does not systematically follow Aristotelian biological theory. For example, BT Niddah 31a presents the Galenic idea that both men and women emit seed that contributes to the development of the fetus. Male seed is sperm that generates the child’s bones, sinews, nails, brain, and the whites of the eyes. Female seed is menstrual blood, which engenders skin, fl esh, blood, hair, and the pupils of the eyes. 24. Th e element fi re is intrinsic to the sefi rah of Judgment. Women, who are created in Judgment, are therefore hewn from this elemental fi re. Isaac of Acre,Sefer Meirat Ein- ayim, 154; compare Zohar 1:103b. 25. Sendor, “Rabbi Isaac the Blind’s Commentary on Sefer Yetsirah,” 3:142–144. 26. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c; compare Ezra of Gerona, Taamei ha- Mitsvot, ed. Travis. 27. On the curriculum at Montpelier in the twelft h and thirteenth centuries, see Siraisi, Medieval and Early Renaissance Medicine, 72–80. On Jewish physicians and the Montpelier College of Medicine, see Shatzmiller, Jews, Medicine, and Medieval Society, 27–31; Dulieu, La Médecine à Montpellier, 1:86–88, 94, 187–191; Siraisi, Medieval and Early Renaissance Medicine, 29; compare Friedenwahl, “Jews and the University of Montpelier,” 241–252. On Rabad’s receptivity to Christian ideas, see Cohen, “Rationales for Conjugal Sex in RA BaD’s Baalei ha-Nefesh,” 65–78. 28. Green, “Transmission of Ancient Th eories,” 71–72, 76.

216 · Notes to Pages 100–102 29. Ibid., 73–87; Whipple, Role of the Nestorians and Muslims in the History of Medicine. To be sure, Western Europeans did not completely abandon the medical sciences in the early Middle Ages. Medical works were translated in North Africa and Ravenna. Yet the scope of these studies was more limited. Western European physicians valued the practical use of medicine over its theoretical study and were more att racted to Soranus than to Galen. Only four of Galen’s works were translated into Latin before the eleventh century, and only one of these, Ad Glauconem, mentions the uterus. Green, “Transmission of An- cient Th eories,” 130–173. 30. Jordan, “Fortune of Constantine’s Pantegni,” in Constantine the Afr ican, 286–302. 31. Ibid., 293; see also Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 117, 124. Th is idea gave rise to a belief in a seven-chambered uterus: three on the right, three on the left , and one in the middle. Th e odd number of chambers gave rise to a third gender possibility — the hermaphrodite. See Kudlien, “Seven Cells of the Uterus,” 415–423; Siraisi, Medieval and Early Renaissance Medicine, 91–96; Ruderman, Kabbalah, Magic, and Science, 197n21; Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 188, 303n13. 32. Roth, “Jewish Collaborators in Alfonso’s Scientifi c Work,” 59–71; Shatzmiller, Jew, Medicine, and Medieval Society. 33. Th is text is a Hebrew translation of the Latin De passionibus mulierum, version B. Barkai, A History of Jewish Gynecological Texts, 20–37, 57, 65. 34. Rosner, Th e Medical Writings of Maimonides, 266; Maimonides, Perush le-Pirqei Abuqrat, 5:48. 35. Travis notes that this may be a scribal error because the Mishnah deems the blood of the upper chamber pure. Travis, “Kabbalistic Foundations of Jewish Spiritual Practice,” 701n248. 36. Travis, “Kabbalistic Foundations of Spiritual Practice,” 701 (English), 33 (Hebrew). 37. Scholem, Origins, 148–151; Wolfson, “Left Contained in the Right,” 27–52. 38. Th omas Aquinas distinguishes two types of female blood: (1) purifi ed blood that is used to make up the embryo and (2) the waste of this blood — menstrual blood (Jac- quart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 77). 39. With the exception of cats, which could resist the powers of menstrual blood and snakes. See BT Shabbat 75b; BT Avodah Zarah 40b. 40. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:104–105. 41. Lev. 15:24. 42. Paraphrase of Job 37:16. 43. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:104–105. 44. Wright, Disposal of Impurity, 248–254; Kaufmann, Religion of Ancient Israel, 57. 45. Milgrom, introduction to Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 44, 936; Fonrobert, Menstrual Pu- rity, 40–50. 46. Early thirteenth-century halakhic treatments of menstruants, such as Nahmanides’ H. iddushim al Massekhet Niddah, Solomon ibn Adret’s Torat ha-Bayit, or Aaron ha-Levi’s Bedeq ha-Bayit, bear no outright disparagement of niddot. Writt en before the dissemina- tion of the Zohar, they were handbooks intended for scholars required to answer intricate halakhic questions (Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 314–315).

Notes to Pages 103–5 · 217 47. Kott ek, “Medical Practice and Jewish Law,” 164–165; Sefer Teshuvot ha-Rashba ha- Meyuh. asot le-ha-Ramban, 127:117–118. Nahmanides may have also been familiar with the gynecological works by Sheshet ben Isaac Benveniste, Nasi of Barcelona (d. 1209). See Barkai, “A Medieval Hebrew Treatise on Obstetrics,” 97–98; Steinschneider, Hebräische Bibliografi e, 106–110. 48. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:65. On ibn Ezra’s approach to gynecology, see his medical treatise Sefer ha-Nisyonnot, 221–257. 49. Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 57–60; Bullough, “Medieval Medical and Scientifi c Views of Women,” 485–501; Horowitz, “Aristotle and Woman,” 212; Morsink, “Was Aristotle’s Biol- ogy Sexist?” 84. 50. Nahmanides, “Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” in Ramban, trans. Chavel; He- brew text in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:167. 51. Aristotle, Generation of Animals, 728a. 52. Ibid., 729a. 53. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 55–56; Green, “Transmission of Ancient Th eories,” 16. 54. During gestation and lactation, these excess fl uids are redirected to nourish the child and maintain homeostasis (Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 46). 55. Amenorrhea was considered very unhealthy because it was thought to result in the retention of waste (introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 44). Against this view, see Avicenna, Liber Canonis, 3:3:25, 373a–373b. 56. Concoction literally means cooking. It is a process of sanguinifi cation by which food is transformed by heat into blood (Green, “Transmission of Ancient Th eories,” 43). 57. Aristotle, On Dreams, 2:459a. 58. Ibid., 2:459b–460a. Dean-Jones believes that this presentation contradicts Aristote- lian biology. In On the Generation of Animals, Aristotle claims that menstrual blood is distinct from other bloods in the body. It is a residue that the womb collects during the course of the month. Accordingly, menstrual blood would cause neither a “general disturbance” in the blood nor a swelling in the body. Moreover, she argues that there was no menstrual taboo in classical Greek society. Menstruating women were not scorned any more than nonmenstruating women. Aristotle and Hippocrates encourage men to have sexual intercourse with menstruants. Dean-Jones concludes that this excerpt was originally a gloss in the margins and was interpolated into the text in the Hellenistic period to subjugate an in- creasingly liberated class of women. See Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Sci- ence, 229–230, 234, 248. Th ough the account itself may be pseudepigraphic, it exerted great infl uence on later natural scientists and physicians who were convinced of its authenticity. 59. Pliny, Natural History, 8:79–81. 60. Ibid., 8:33,57; Aelian, On Animals, 2:7:97; White, Book of Beasts, 169n1; compare Albertus Magnus, Man and the Beasts, 293, 398. Th anks to Marc Epstein for his bibliographical help. 61. On the physiological association between sexuality and eye disease, see Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 181.

218 · Notes to Pages 105–7 62. Albertus Magnus, Quaestiones, 11:9; Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 74–75, 206–207; Introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 48–49. See also Robert Grosseteste, Expositio in epistulam sancti Pauli ad Galatas, 3:3:46. 63. Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 11:129. 64. Ibid. Th e text draws a further connection between serpents and women: “If the hair of a menstruating woman be taken and placed under a dung heap or clod of earth or where dung was made during the winter or summer by virtue of the sun, there will be engendered a long and powerful snake” (Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 76). Paracelcus, the Renaissance polymath, takes this association one step further and explains that menstrual blood and semen exposed together may give rise to the basilisk “whose poison is similar to that in the eyes or breath of a menstruating woman” (Pagel, Paracelcus, 116; on the dire eff ects of the “menstrual spirit,” see 122). 65. Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 75, 129. Th is understanding gave rise to the myth of the venomous virgin, a tale that Jacquart and Th omasset describe as “the literary justifi cation for the fear of the poison within women’s bodies” (191–192; compare the medieval commentaries to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 130–131). 66. Introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 37. 67. Nahmanides was familiar with other aspects of contemporary gynecology as well. He describes the rabbinic, Galenic, and Aristotelian perceptions of the nature of female seed (Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:65). 68. BT Shabbat 75b, 146a; BT Avodah Zarah 22b, 40b; BT Pesah. im 111a; BT Yebamot 103b. Compare Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 154. 69. Th ere are two distinct superstitions known as the evil eye: (1) the belief that some people are able to harm others at a glance; and (2) the belief that jealous demons will be- grudge men all forms of happiness. Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 54–56. See also Kern-Ulmer, “Power of the Evil Eye and the Good Eye,” 344–353; Kern-Ulmer, Th e Evil Eye. 70. Nahmanides’ commentary to Gen. 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177. 71. Nahmanides, “Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” in Ramban, trans. Chavel. He- brew text in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:167. 72. Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah, 9; BdN1:2; Efraim bar Shimshon, Perush al ha-Torah, 2:19. On the development of the association between sexual intercourse with menstruants and monstrous births in the Christian tradition, see Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 74, 89; Niccoli, “Menstruum Quasi Monstruum,” 403–428; Payer, Bridling of Desire, 107–108; Th omasset, “Nature of Women,” 54–58, 65–66. On sexual relations with menstruants engendering lepers, see, among others, Innocent III, De miseria condicionis humanae, 1:4. 73. On the physiological association between leprosy and venereal disease in the Middle Ages, see Ell, “Blood and Sexuality in Medieval Leprosy,” 153–164. 74. See chapter 9. 75. Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 186–188; Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 88–89.

Notes to Pages 107–9 · 219 76. Langermann, “Acceptance and Devaluation,” 223–224; Ruderman, Jewish Th ought and Scientifi c Discovery, 15, 20, 35–41. 77. Scholars diff er on Nahmanides’ hermeneutical method. See among others, Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 85–102; Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalis- tic Tradition,’ ” 51–73; Idel, “Nahmanides” 15–96; Scholem, Origins, 384–385; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 103–178. 78. Job 28:21; Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, I:167. 79. Berger, “Miracles and the Natural Order in Nahmanides,” in Rabbi Moses Nahman- ides, 107. 80. Ibid., 112. 81. Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 52–53; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 151–153. 82. Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 159. 83. Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 152. 84. Lev. 18:19. 85. Compare Zohar 2:3b. 86. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 90; Scholem, Origins, 384–385; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 105. 87. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 96; Idel, “An Anony- mous Commentary from the Circle of the Rashba,” 9–21; Idel, “Nahmanides” ; Idel, “ ‘We have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 65–66. 88. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Meirat Einayim, 29. 89. Elsewhere, Shem Tov ibn Gaon explains that spirits of impurity were especially att racted to the smell of human blood. Necromancers would therefore use bloodlike incense in order to draw spirits of impurity to earth (Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 43a). 90. Bah. ya ben Asher’s commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:486–487; compare his commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:472; Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b. 91. M Niddah 2:6; 9:11. 92. Genesis Rabbah, 15:7; 19:5, ed. Albeck, 1:139–140, 174. 93. Zohar 2:192a. See also Zohar 1:36a; 2:267b; 3:236a (RM); Menah. em Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d; Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c. 94. Jacob ben Sheshet, Sefer ha-Emunah ve-ha-Bitah.on, 89; Gott lieb, Ha-Qabbalah be- Kitvei Rabbenu Bah. ya ben Asher, 102. On wine as a symbol of Judgment, see Bah. ya ben Asher’s commentary to Gen. 9:20, ed. Chavel, 1:123. 95. Bah. ya ben Asher’s commentary to Gen. 19:32, ed. Chavel, 1:186–187; see also Mena- h. em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 81c. 96. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c. 97. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Meirat Einayim, 154; Menah. em Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 71c. Recanati also explains that “the mystery of the sin of menstruation is that woman squeezed the grapes” (Perush al ha-Torah, 61c). 98. Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, 344–345. Note that while de Leon acknowledges the danger of impure women gazing at mirrors, purifi ed women, by contrast, are encouraged to look in mirrors in order to entice their husbands, in Zohar 2:3b.

220 · Notes to Pages 109–12 99. Zohar 2:3b; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1202–1203. 100. See, among others, Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c. 101. Note that one of the most comprehensive discussions of the origins of menstrual impurity is att ributed to the hero of the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai. 102. Zohar 3:79a; compare al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85. 103. Note that there are twenty-seven forms of impurity specifi c to women. Samael transmits twenty-four by means of the act of instilling. Th e discrepancy must be the result of an exegetical need that the number of impurities correspond to the numerical equivalent of the Hebrew va-evah, enmity, which is twenty-four. 104. Zohar 1:126b; 2:111a. 105. Pliny, Natural History, 8:63–64, 78–81; 28:80–85; Columella, On Agriculture and Trees, 38–39; Aelian, Nature and Animals, 53; Aubart, “Aspects of Ancient Uterine Magic,” 431, 437. On medieval Hispano-Christian perceptions of the magical power of menstrual blood, see Salisbury, “Fruitful in Singleness,” 98–99. 106. BT Shabbat 75b; Midrash Tanh. uma on Gen. 18:25, ed. Buber, 1:4:12, 92; see also Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine, 102n51. Belief in the magical power of menstrual blood was not limited to the talmudic period. According to a mid-thirteenth-century Ash- kenazic magical manual, one could cure a woman’s excessive blood fl ow by tying a menstruant’s hair to her bed (MS Parma 541, fol. 264b). 107. BT Sanhedrin 67a; BT Berakhot 53a; BT Eruvin 64b; BT Pesah. im 110a–111a; BT Yoma 83b. For a general discussion of women and magic in the Babylonian Talmud, see Blau, Das altjüdische Zauberwesen, 23–26; Fishbane, “ ‘Most Women Engage in Sorcery,’ ” 27–42. 108. BT Sanhedrin 91a; BT Niddah 17a; BT H H. agigah 3b. 109. Sifre, ed. Finkelstein, Pisqa 173, p. 220; compare BT Makkot 70b. 110. Of the six references to spirits of impurity in the talmudic corpus, four are associated with graveyards. Th e Talmud specifi es graveyards as the site of illicit magical practice. BT H. agigah 3b, BT Sotah 3a (twice), BT Sanhedrin 65b (twice), BT Niddah 17a. Th is rabbinic understanding is a striking inversion of extra-talmudic magical techniques, in which a magician’s purity was a prerequisite for success. See chapter 1. 111. Th anks to Jane Kanarak for this observation. 112. According to the medieval tosafi sts, theniddah must fi rst cast the appropriate spell (Tosafot on BT Pesah. im 111a, s.v. im tkhilat). 113. BT Pesah. im 111a. 114. Zohar 2:237. On Egypt as the locus of sorcery, see Zohar 3:70a; Wolfson, “Left Contained in the Right,” 33–34. 115. Note the diff erence in degree: in the Talmud, practitioners of unsanctioned magic use impure names, while in Kabbalah, Bilaam uses the language of seminal emission (lashon qeri). See Sefer Toldot Adam, MS BN 841, fols. 246b, 254b; Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 81c–d. 116. BT Sanhedrin 67a. 117. Compare Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth 81B, where the interpretation of “sorceress” follows the grammatical model of the Talmud. BT Yebamot 103b states that when Israel

Notes to Pages 113–15 · 221 received the Torah at Sinai, their pollution ceased. Th is challenges Rabbi Yossi’s assertion that all women are fi lled with the fi lth of magic, for they too would have been purifi ed at Sinai. Rabbi Isaac claims that the Torah was given to men alone, as it is writt en, “and this is the law which Moses set before the sons of Israel” (Deut. 4:44). (Rabbi Isaac interprets the Hebrew, bnei, ynb exclusively as sons, rather than inclusively as children.) Women were not purifi ed of the serpent’s fi lth through the granting of the Torah. To fend off skeptics, Rabbi Yossi adds that impurity returned to both men and women aft er the sin of the golden calf. See Zohar 1:126a–b; compare Zohar 1:37b, 52b–53a, 63b, 131b; Zohar 2:194a. 118. “Impurity is drawn to impurity just as like is drawn to like.” See Zohar 3:111a; Cohen-Alloro, “Ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf,” 20, 85. 119. Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 81c; Englander, Th e Mystical Study of Ruth, 69; compare Mopsik, Le Zohar: Le Livre de Ruth. See parallels in Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 38. 120. Note that one man walks between two women in Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, while one woman walks between two men in the Talmud; compare Zohar 2:3a–b. 121. Kern-Ulmer, “Power of the Evil Eye,” 344–353; Kern-Ulmer, Th e Evil Eye; Trachten- berg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 54–56. 122. Zohar 1:126a–b. Compare Zohar H. adash Ruth 1:2; Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 87b; Moses de Leon, Sefer Nefesh ha-Hakhamah 5, 79; Massekhet Sofrim, 15:7. 123. Synopse #288. 124. Ibid., #83; compare #86. 125. Zohar 2:77b (Raza d’Razim). See also Zohar H. adash 35b, Zohar 2:272b (Tosafot), Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 140. On the marks caused by forbidden sexual relations, see Zohar 2:75b (Raza d’Razim); on physiognomy and chiromancy, see BT Yoma 22b, BT H. agigah 22b, Zohar 2:16b(RM). 126. God punishes Miriam and King Uzziah with scale impurity (Num. 12; 2 Chron. 26), but the leper is not considered morally impure (Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 25). 127. See the many examples cited by Neusner, Th e Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism, 13–31. 128. Frymer-Kensky, “Pollution, Purifi cation, and Purgation,” 399–410; Klawans,Rit- ual and Moral Impurity, 26–31. 129. Leviticus Rabbah, 15:4; Neusner, Th e Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism, 83–84; Kla- wans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 96–104. In Castilian Kabbalah the “torah of the tsaraat” is the “torah of one who brings forth a bad name.” For more on the relationship between the impurity of tsaraat and sin in Castilian Kabbalah, see, among others, Zohar 3:47a, 55a; for a more metaphorical treatment of tsaraat impurity, see Natan the Physician, Zikhron Tov, MS Cambridge Add. 485, fols. 46b, 86b. 130. Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 98. 131. Note that according to Zohar 1:18a, the serpent was not initially evil. He was transformed into a malevolent force when he himself was corrupted by a spirit of impurity. 132. See Zohar 1:48a, 53b–54, 58a, 100a, 167b; 2:111a; 3:41b, 47a, 55a; Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 33a; Cohen-Alloro, “ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf be-Sefer ha-Zohar,” 85. For the rabbinic sources of this idea, see BT Makkot 70b; Sifre Deuteronomy, 173:12.

222 · Notes to Pages 115–17 133. Zohar 1:169a–169b; compare Zohar 1:53a–54b, 129b, 131a, 141a–b; 3:47a, 55a–b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, ed. Meier, 145–147; Idel, “Zohar Translation of R. David b. Yehuda ha-H. asid,” 84–98; MS Parma 1896/6, fols. 201a–203a; MS Parma 2654, fols. 279b–280b. 134. For a metaphorical treatment of the zavah, see Zohar 3:54a and Eser Madregot shel Tumah, MS BN 841, fol. 246b. 135. Zohar 3:33b (RM). 136. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c. 137. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 46, 941. 138. See chapter 2. 139. Isaac of Acre, Meirat Einayim, 154. On the relationship between women and the Angel of Death, see BT Berakhot 51a. 140. BT Baba Batra 16a; Zohar 1:152b; 2:262b. 141. Zohar 1 53b–54, 114a; Isaac of Acre, Meirat Einayim, 154; MS Milano Ambrosiana P47 Sup. 1.6, fol. 33b. 142. Zohar 1:36a. 143. Zohar 3:33b (RM). Th e Sefer ha-Meshiv describes the relationship between ritually impure women and Lilith as the “mystery of menstruants” (Idel, “Inquiries into the Doctrine of Sefer ha-Meshiv,” 196, 198–199). 144. Some rabbis believed that it was inappropriate for women to sing alone in public. According to RM 2:233b, a song sung by a woman (mizmor, rwmzm), creates a strange blemish (mum zar, rz μwom). 145. Zohar 2:111a. 146. On the Zohar’s indebtedness to Ashkenazi halakhah in general, see Ta-Shma, Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar; on the infl uence of the BdN specifi cally, see pp. 32 and 51. 147. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c. 148. Compare BdN 2:5, 17. 149. Rabbi Manh. ama in BdN 2:3n185. 150. Ibid., 2:3, 13; Nahmanides’ commentary to Gen. 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177. 151. While the BdN mentions the danger of the menstruant’s saliva (1:1, 3; 2:1, 3), it makes no explicit mention of the hazards posed by her smell. Bah. ya ben Asher may have inferred this danger from the H. anina ben Haqanah story in BdN 1:7, 9. For more on this story and its relationship to the Hekhalot literature, see chapter 2. Zohar 1:190b also makes note of the smell of menstrual blood, explaining that God requires the sacrifi ce of Rosh ha-Shanah “to cause the serpent to pass and to perfume one (feminine) who needs it. . . . It is therefore writt en, ‘Do not come near a woman during her period of impurity.’ ” See Lev. 18:19. 152. BdN 1:2, 3, 4; 1:4, 6, 7; 2:4, 17; 3:4, 27. 153. Ibid., 1:2, 3. 154. Zohar 2:3a. 155. Ibid. 156. Ibid., 2:4 16; 1:4, 5. Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 129, 191. 157. Zohar 3:49a; Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Writt en,” 119–120.

Notes to Pages 117–20 · 223 158. Zohar 3:79a; Zohar 1:190b; Ben Amos, “On Demons,” 36. 159. On the canonization of the Zohar, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia. 160. Gutwirth and Dolader, “Twenty-Six Jewish Libraries from Fift eenth-Century Spain,” 27–53. Th anks to Judah Galinsky for this reference. 161. On the proliferation of popular halakhic treatises in late thirteenth- and fourteenth- century Catalonia and Castile, see Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 305–327; Ilan, “Jewish Community in Toledo,” 65–95; H. allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar into the Realm of Halakah,” 413. H. allamish warns not to overemphasize the halakhic infl uence of the Zohar because the authors of the Zohar were not halakhists and they did not share their esoteric teachings with the populace. Nonetheless, even H. allamish concedes that the Zohar infl uenced Iberian Jewish culture before the expulsion. .H allamish, Ha- Qabbalah, 120–125. 162. Th is eff ort parallels contemporary Christian clerics who wrote treatises to educate lay people, and itinerant preachers who roamed the country to reform Christian practice. Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 314–315. On Zoharic infl uences on Castilian Jewish literature in the fourteenth and fi eenthft century, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 140–179. 163. Meir ibn Aldabi, Shevilei ha-Emunah, 3:1, 114–115. 164. Th e author of Sefer ha-H.inukh is the subject of scholarly debate. See, among others, Ta-Shma, “Author of Sefer ha-H. inukh” (in Hebrew), in Knesset Meh.qarim, 2:196–201; Ga- linsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 319n44. 165. Sefer Ha-H.inukh, Parashat Tazria par. 166, p.200. He quotes the Ramban humoral medical theories from his commentary on Leviticus 12:4. See parallel Parashat Metsora par. 207, p. 342. 166. Ta-Shma, “Author of Sefer ha-H.inukh,” 2:202–208. 167. Isaac Aboav, Menorat ha-Maor, 3:6:4, 376–377. 168. On secrecy as a means to impose change, see Halbertal, Concealment and Revelation . 169. al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85; Zohar 3:79a; Zohar 1:190b. 170. Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 155. 171. Abraham Saba, Tsror ha-Mor, Parashat Metsora, 3:11. 172. Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c. For more on Tsioni and the Zohar, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 96; Ta-Shma, Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar, 81; Yuval, Ha-H. akhamim be- Doram, 282–292. 173. Menah. em Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d; Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c. 174. Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, #91, 80d; Zohar 1:190b. 175. Sefer ha-Qanah, 77a–b. 176. Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 65b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha- Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 179a. Note that this idea is absent in Sefer Taamei ha- Mitsvot, MS Oxford Michael 119, fols. 176a–178b. On the treatment of gilgul and illicit sexual relations in Menah. em Recanati, Joseph Hamadan, and the anonymous author of the Sefer ha-Qanah, see Kushnir-Oron, “Ha-Peliah ve-ha-Qanah: Yesodot ha-Qabbalah she-ba-hem,” 100–104. 177. Sefer ha-Qanah, 77a–b.

224 · Notes to Pages 120–23 eight. Menstrual Impurity and Sufi sm My work in this chapter has been made possible by the generosity of many scholars who shared with me Islamic texts that are not widely available and, in some cases, also provided translations that have been of great assistance and which I quote here. Marion Katz and Barbara Von Schlegel have been particularly helpful, and I am grateful to have been able to rely on their more than collegial scholarship of medieval Islamic law and classical Sufi sm. 1. For an overview of the Muslim purity system in English, see Katz, Body of Text; Reinhart, “Purity/No Danger,” 1–24; Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 348–392. 2. Reinhart, “Purity/No Danger,” 9. 3. Sura 2:222, trans. Katz, Body of Text, 49. 4. Lev. 18:19. 5. Menstruants can touch the outside cover of the Qurān. For exceptions, see Bakhtiar, Encyclopedia of Islamic Law, 23. 6. Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 364; Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger.” 7. Muslim 29:371, cited by Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 365. 8. Sura 2:222, trans. Katz, Body of Text, 49. Th ere are many possible renderings, including illness (Pickthall), impurity (Fakhry), and vulnerable condition (Asad). 9. Except the blood of martyrs. 10. Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger,” 15. 11. Th e question of infl uence is a thorny one. As noted, there are similarities between the laws in Sura 2:222 and Lev. 15:19, and the Qurānic language “do not approach” evokes the language of Lev. 20:18. Yet it is diffi cult to prove with any certainty that Muh. ammad was either infl uenced by Leviticus or was reacting against Jewish practice in Arabia. 12. Katz, Body of Text, 49; on the purity laws as an expression of a new covenantal system, see 32–58. 13. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #297; compare 319, 320. Th e Center for Muslim–Jewish Engagement at USC has compiled an invaluable web resource of H. adith in translation: htt p://www.usc.edu/schools/college/crcc/engagement/resources/texts/muslim/search .html. 14. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #299; see also #300, #298. 15. Abu-Dāwūd, book 1, #212; compare #213. 16. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #329; al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #296. 17. H. adīth Muslim, book 3, #587, #588, #589; Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 374–377; Reinhart, “Impurity, No Danger,” 15. 18. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #295; compare #294. 19. Ibid., #327. 20. Ibid., #293, in Katz, Body of Text, 199. 21. Katz, Body of Text, 198. 22. Sahīh Bukhārī, vol. I, book 6, #321. 23. On purity laws and the language of covenant see Katz, Body of Text. 24. Brohi, “Th e Spiritual Dimensions of Prayer,” 131–143; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 155.

Notes to Pages 127–32 · 225 25. Malik’s Muwatt a, book 15, #15.7.24. 26. Brohi, “Th e Spiritual Dimensions of Prayer,” 142. 27. Th is list is taken from a thirteenth-century textbook on Sufi sm, Abū Bakr al- Kalābādhī, Doctrine of the Sufi s, trans. Arberry. For an in-depth explanation of these stages, see Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 98–148; for the formulation of a modern Sufi shaykh, see Hoff man, Sufi sm, Mystics and Saints in Modern Egypt, 159–163. 28. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 169. On the use of dhikr in modern Egypt, see Hoff man, Sufi sm, Mystics and Saints in Modern Egypt, 163–188. 29. al Qushayrī, Ar-risāla fī ilm at-taşawwuf, trans. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 167. For more on al Qushayrī, see Habil, “Traditional Esoteric Commentaries,” in Islamic Spirituality, 1:32. 30. Th is generally remains true, except in Nubia, where women are excluded from dhikr because of impurity. Hoff man reports thatin modern Egypt women and men perform dhikr in the same place, but the level of segregation oft en refl ects the status of society: lower classes mix more than do upper-class women. Th ere is a woman’s branch of the Sufi order Muh. ammadiyya Shariyah, which had its own dhikr in a mosque in Heliopolis led by a woman (Sufi sm, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt, 166, 247). 31. Katz, Body of Text, 199. Katz explains that some Muslim legists were concerned lest menstruating women lose merit if they neglect the salāt and therefore obligated women to perform some type of devotion during the ritual prayers. Body of Text, 260n143. Compare the h. adīth that states women are defi cient in their religion because they cannot pray or fast while menstruating; see al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #301. Th is contrast was also noted by Tritt er (17), but in #318, Muh. ammad does not require his wives to make up their prayers. 32. Th e Subtle Qurānic Allusions, 178, in Tritt er, “Th e Mufasirun and the Menstruant.” 33. For a comprehensive overview of women in Sufi sm, see Chishti, “Female Spiritual- ity in Islam,” in Islamic Spirituality; Elias, “Female and Female in Islamic Mysticism”; Hoff man,Sufi sm, Mystics, and Saints, in Modern Egypt, 226–254; Nurbakhsh, Sufi Women; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam; Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman: Th e Feminine in Islam; Smith, Rabia; as-Sulamī, Early Sufi Women, trans. Cornell. 34. Sura 2:228; my emphasis. 35. Sura 4:1; 7:189; Hoff man,Sufi sm, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt, 228. 36. Ibid., 227. 37. Julie Marcus, by contrast, derives from this that pollution concepts have the eff ect of preventing women from regular contact with God and of regularly pushing women outside the community of believers. For her very diff erent approach, see Marcus, “Islam, Women, and Pollution in Turkey,” 213–214. 38. Rūmī, Th e Mathnawí, 2:1755, 311. 39. Ruzbehān, Sharh-e shathiyāt, 561, cited in Nurbakhsh, Sufi Symbolism, 2:130. 40. Nurbakhsh, Sufi Symbolism, 3:75. 41. Rūmī, Th e Mathnawí, 2:1797–1800, 314. 42. Th urkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shiite Islam.

226 · Notes to Pages 133–37 43. Chishti, “Female Spirituality in Islam,” 210–211; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Is- lamic Mysticism,” 212–213; Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 19; Smith, Rabia, 113–138. 44. On the historicity of Rabīa, see Smith, Rabia, 20; Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism, 152. 45. as-Sulamī, Early Sufi Women, trans. Cornell, 90. 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid, 106. 48. Cornell, Early Sufi Women, 60; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 209–210. 49. ibn Att ār, Tadhkirat al Awliyá, 59, cited in Smith Rabia, 21; Hoff man-Ladd, “Mysti- cism and Sexuality in Sufi oughtTh and Life,” 83; Smith, Rabia, 27n20. Compare early modern Judaism, when uneducated men were described as “men who are like women”; see Weissler, Voices of the Matriarchs, 54–59. 50. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 77. 51. Ibid., 79. 52. Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 211. 53. Susan Bordo, Unbearable Weight, 5. 54. On gender symbolism in Sufi sm, see Malamud, “Gender and Spiritual Self,” 89–117. 55. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 78. 56. Ibid., 79–80. 57. ibn Att ār, Th e Speech of the Birds, trans. Peter Avery, 2:1803–1814, 161–162. Th anks to Marion Katz for this reference. 58. Displays of supernatural powers were frowned upon, and Sufi masters considered these acts obstacles to spiritual advancement. Th e distaste for “shopkeeper sheikhs” is evident in the h. adīth “that miracles are the menstruation of men.” Just as menstruation separates a husband and wife, miracles separate God from the mystic. Annemarie Schimmel att ributes this symbolic transfer of menstruation to men to Indian Muslims — a signifi - cant fact because male menstruation was part of Indian folklore (Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 212). 59. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 39. 60. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 427. 61. Wemple, Women in Frankish Society; Brooten, Women Leaders in the Ancient Syna- gogue; Smith, Rabia, 141–165. 62. Hoff man-Ladd, “Mysticism and Sexuality in Sufi Life and ought,” Th 84–85. 63. Berkey, Th e Transmission of Knowledge in Medieval Cairo, 174–175. 64. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 23, 101–103; Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 430–431; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islamic Mysticism,” 215. 65. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 47. 66. Austin, “Introduction to Th e Bezels of Wisdom,” 4, 7; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 431; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 215. 67. Barbara von Schlegell, personal communication, September 24, 1998. 68. Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 223. 69. Katz, Body of Text, 145. 70. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 167.

Notes to Pages 137–43 · 227 nine. Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity 1. See among others, Selvidge, Women, Cult, and Miracle Recital; Reuther, “Women’s Body and Blood,” 14–15. 2. Meens, “Ritual Purity and the Infl uence of Gregory the Great,” 31–33. 3. BT Niddah 31b. 4. Indeed, many scholars have gone further and understood the story to be emblem- atic of Christian triumph over rabbinic patriarchy. See, among others, Selvidge, Women, Cult, and Miracle Recital; Reuther, “Women’s Body and Blood: Th e Sacred and the Impure,” 14–15. For a very diff erent interpretation, see Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 191, 194–5; compare Nugent, “Bodily Effl uvia and Liturgical Interruption,” 49–70. 5. Th e contemporaneous tendency to equate Galilean synagogues with the Temple may be a response to this Christian development (Fine, Th is Holy Place, 99; compare Schwartz, Imperialism in Jewish Society, 215–239; Nibly, “Christian Envy of the Temple, 97– 123, 229–240; Branham, “Sacred Space,” 63–65, 70). 6. Branham, “Sacred Space,” 70. 7. Canon IV, II, cited in R. Kraemer, Maenads, Martyrs, Matrons, Monastics, 43; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 288; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity; 196; Taft , “Women at Church in Byzantium,” 74–75. 8. Th e texts suggest that women absented themselves from the sacred because they believed that the Holy Spirit abandoned their bodies upon the advent of their fl ow and was dispossessed by an impure spirit. Th e author of the Didascalia argues that the women’s argument is theologically unsound because the Holy Spirit will not abandon those who have been baptized. Th e Didascalia, moreover, does not prohibit sexual relations with menstruants. See Voobus, Didascalia Apostolorum, 244; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 289–290; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 173; Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 3. 9. Levin, “Eastern Orthodox Christianity,” in Handbook of Medieval Sexuality, 329–343; Levin, Sex and Society in the World of the Orthodox Slavs, 169–170; Branham, “Sacred Space,” 75; Taft , “Women at Church in Byzantium,” 75. 10. Th ough menstruating nuns were barred from religious ceremonies, menstruating abbesses were, at times, permitt ed to att end services from the galleries of their monastery churches. Taft , “Women at Church in Byzantium,” 59, 63–72; Gerstel, “Painted Sources for Female Piety in Byzantium,” 89–111. 11. Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 31–33. 12. Irish exegetes interpreted the Bible more literally than their counterparts on the continent and may have entertained very diff erent notions about purity and impurity. It is possible that the Anglo-Saxons whom Augustine intended to convert to the Roman rite practiced menstrual customs learned from the Irish church (Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Supersti- tion,” 282–284). One of the batt les for the hegemony of the British church is played out through the notion of impurity. On early medieval Irish exegesis of Leviticus, see Smalley, “An Early Twelft h-Century Commentator on the Literal Sense of Leviticus,” 78–99. 13. On the diff erent versions of the Libellus, see Meyvaert, “Bede’s Text of the Libellus Responsionum,” 15–33; Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 31–33; Friesen, “Answers and Echoes,” 153–172.

228 · Notes to Pages 144–47 Th e Libellus’ authenticity has been called into question because the actual lett er does not appear among Gregory’s offi cial papal lett ers, yet even those who consider its provenance spurious cannot deny its infl uence throughout the Middle Ages. 14. Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 4; McCracken, Th e Curse of Eve, 67–68. 15. Colgrave and Mynors, trans., Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, 1:27, 94–95. 16. In his commentary on Ezekiel, Gregory allegorizes menstruants as symbols of sin (noted by Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 178n73). Dyan Elliot off ers a very diff erent interpretation of medieval Christian conceptions of menstruation in her Fallen Bodies, a fascinating study of pollution and demonology in the Latin West. 17. Note that Gregory was not asked about sexual intercourse with menstruants. 18. Colgrave and Mynors, trans., Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, 1:27, 94–95. 19. Gregory tacitly endorses the levitical laws of baal qeri but is unwilling to acknowledge his debt to a Jewish practice. He self-consciously insists that his interpretation is allegorical and that it stems from Stoic rather than from contemporary Jewish practice. Th e rabbis off er four possible interpretations for a baal qeri: an ejaculant in intercourse, a man with gonorrhea, an onanite, and one who has had a nocturnal emission tradition (PT Yoma 8:1:44d; M Berakhot 3:6; BT Niddah 35b; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107). Gregory signifi cantly chooses the most narrow reading. Palestinian rabbis similarly defi ned the baal qeri as an ejaculant in intercourse. It is possible that Gregory’s interpretation throws light on the practices of early medieval Italian Jewry, who drew from Pales- tinian customs. 20. Bischoff and Lapidge, Biblical Commentaries fr om the Canterbury School, 5–8; Lapidge, “Career of Archbishop Th eodore,” in Archbishop Th eodore, 1–29. 21. Penitential of Th eodore, XIV:17, 18, in Medieval Handbook of Penance, 197. 22. Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 36. 23. Meens, “Questioning Ritual Purity,” 178. 24. Lapidge, “Th e Career of Archbishop Th eodore,” 6. 25. Herren, “Irish Biblical Commentaries before 800,” 395. Th eodore was also stringent with regard to food purity. Meens, “Pollution in the Early Middle Ages,” 3–19. 26. Firey, “Lett er of the Law,” 211. 27. Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 38. 28. Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Superstition,”’ 287. 29. Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 12. 30. Meens, “Aliud Benitenciale,” 19. 31. Regino of Prüm, Reginonis libri duo de synodalibus, 160; Meen, “Questioning Ritual Purity”; Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 77. 32. Women were oft en barred from entering monastic churches, though certain monasteries established special women’s churches outside their walls to accommodate them (Schulenberg, “Gender, Celibacy, and Proscriptions of Sacred Space,” 355). 33. Levin, “Eastern Orthodox Christianity,” in Handbook of Medieval Sexuality; Levin, Sex and Society in the World of the Orthodox Slavs, 169–170. Th e barring of menstruants from Byzantine Rite churches is discussed later in the chapter.

Notes to Pages 147–51 · 229 34. Early Irish monks preserved a style of Christianity independent of Rome. Th e many proscriptions against having sexual relations with menstruants in the Irish penitentials may refl ect Irish penchant for literal exegesis. Although many of these interpretations are now lost, vestiges of a literal approach may be found in the penitentials. 35. Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 12. 36. Penitential of Cummean II:30, in Medieval Handbooks of Penance, 105. 37. Brundage , Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 601; Rieder, “Between the Pure and Pol- luted,” 21–24. 38. Nie, “ ‘Contagium’ and Images of Self in Sixth-Century Gaul,” 251, 252n18. 39. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 163; compare note 19. 40. Church authorities, like the rabbis, wrote about women as they related to men (Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,” 79–93; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 165). 41. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 155. 42. Ibid., 160, 162. 43. Ibid., 155. 44. Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 58. 45. See discussion of Rabanus of Mainz, below. 46. Penitential literature during the tenth and eleventh centuries was writt en and copied for episcopal use rather than as pastoral guides for the laity (Hamilton, Th e Practice of Penance: 900–1050, 45–46). 47. For the debate on the origins of the genre, see Tentler, “Summa for Confessors as an Instrument of Social Control,” 103; Boyle, “Summa for Confessors as a Genre, and Its Religious Intent,” 126; Tentler, “Response and Retractatio,” 131–137. 48. Payer, Bridling of Desire, 110; Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 142–155. 49. See chapter 7. 50. Robert of Flamborough, Liber Poenitentialis; see Book 4:226, p. 195 : “Many lepers, epileptics and children bearing themselves badly are generated during menstruation and pregnancy.” 51. Ibid., Book 5:288, p. 238. 52. Peter of Poitier, Summa, XII, 17, cited in Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,” 88; see parallels in Th omas of Chobham, Summa Confessorum, VII, 2a, 356; Robert of Flamborough, Liber IV, 226, 197–198; Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,” 88n51; Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 142–155. 53. Peter of Poitier, Summa, XII, 17, cited in Murray, “Gendered Souls,” 88. 54. Peter’s familiarity with Jewish practice is especially notable because he was a canon of St. Victor, the Parisian abbey famous for its interest in Rashi’s exegetical techniques. 55. Rufi nus, Summa, 16, inA History of Women and Ordination, 104n84. 56. By contrast, Rufi nus’ contemporary, the Bolognese canon lawyer Huguccio, stated that it is a mortal sin to have sexual relations with a menstruant. Th erefore, if a wife were a menstruant, a husband should not pay the marriage debt unless he believed that she would commit adultery. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 283. 57. On rabbinic understandings of “spoiled blood,” see chapter 7.

230 · Notes to Pages 151–54 58. On Isidore’s sources, see MacLehose, “Nurturing Danger,” 9; Payer, Bridling of De- sire, 107. 59. Cadden, Meaning of Sex Diff erence, 49. 60. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, XI, 1.140–141, trans. Sharpe, “Isidore of Seville,” 48; Rabanus of Mainz, De Rerum Naturis, 6:243b–244b; Patrologia Latina, vol. 111:174–175. 61. Translation by Payer, Bridling Desire, 107–108. Niccoli suggests that faulty Latin translation of IV Ezra produced an association between menstruating women and monstrous births in the Christian tradition. Th e original Hebrew or Aramaic reads, “women will give birth to monsters” as a harbinger of the end of days. Th e Latin translation reads “mulieres parient menstruatae monstra,” “menstruating women give birth to monsters.” Niccoli, “ ‘Menstruum Quasi Monstruum,’ ” 20; Payer, Bridling Desire, 233n126; Jacquart and Th omasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 74, 89; Th omasset, “Th e Nature of Women,” 54–58, 65–66. Th e association between sexual relations with menstruants and leprosy fi rst appears in the Jewish tradition in Leviticus Rabbah — a work almost contemporaneous with Jerome (Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN 1:2, 1:4, 6; Efraim bar Shimshon, Perush al ha-Torah, 2:19). Marienberg suggests that the Jewish position precedes and infl uenced Jerome Niddah( , 113–120). On Jerome’s interaction with Jews, see H. Sparks, “Jerome as Biblical Scholar,” in Th e Cambridge History of the Bible, 1:515. 62. Book of Vices and Virtues ed. Nelson, fol. 96b; 217, 248. 63. Payer, Th e Bridling of Desire, 108. For the many Jewish parallels, see chapter 7. 64. Raymond of Peñafort, Summa on Marriage, ed. and trans. Pierre Payer. 65. John of Freiburg, Summa Confessorum, 4:2q45 (220vb), cited by Payer in Bridling of Desire, 230n118. For more on John of Freiburg, see Boyle, “Summa Confessorum of John of Freiburg,” 245–268. 66. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society; Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 132–194. 67. Th omas of Chobham is very strict with regard to seminal emissions as well. Summa Confessorum, ed. Broomfi eld, 7:2:2:3, p. 339. 68. Robert of Flamborough, Liber Poenitentialis, ed. Firth, 5:286. 69. Among the many authors who have devoted studies to virginity in Christianity, see Brown, “Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” in Christian Spirituality, 1:427–443; Brown, Th e Body and Society; Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society; Castelli, “Virginity and Its Meaning for Women’s Spirituality,” 61–88; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 160–166. 70. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 102–104. 71. Ibid., 141; Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 27–43; Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society, 176–225; Morrison, “Th e Gregorian Reform,” in Christian Spirituality, 1: 177–193. 72. Rouwhorst, “Leviticus 12–15 in Early Christianity,” 81–93. 73. Gorman, “Commentary on the Pentateuch Att ributed to Bede,” 61–108. 74. Bede, In Pentateuchum Commentarii, chap. 15, Patrologia Latina, vol. 91. 75. Laistner, Th oughts and Lett ers in Western Europe, 221. 76. Rabanus of Mainz, De Rerum Naturis, 6:243b–244b; Patrologia Latina, vol. 111: 174–175. On Rabanus’s method of exegesis, see Laistner, Th oughts and Lett ers in Western Europe, 301–303; Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 43. Th e homology between

Notes to Pages 154–59 · 231 menstruation and idolatry is noted in Jewish sources as well. Midrash Tanh. uma on Lev. 15:25, ed. Buber, 3:5:14, 52n72; M Shabbat 1:9. Compare M Avodah Zarah 3:6; BT Shabbat 92b. See Rashi on Gen. 35:2. Rabanus of Mainz mentions Jews and Jewish practice in his Bible commentary — a fact that leads some scholars to suggest that he spoke with Jews. Th is scenario could suggest that Rabanus derived the homology between menstrual impurity and idolatry from Jews. Given that Rabanus’ commentary is essentially a compilation of older sources, is it diffi cult to diff erentiate his own voice from uncited sources. 77. Firey, “Th e Lett er of the Law,” 204, 208. 78. Gilbert, “Introduction,” IX; Laistner, Th oughts and Lett ers, 301, 306. 79. Abigail Firey, “Lett er of the Law,” 204, 208. 80. Evans, Language and the Logic of the Bible, 43–45. 81. Ibid., 38, 43; Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 57–66. 82. Twelft h-century Christian scholars oft en consulted with rabbis to establish a correct reading of the Hebrew biblical text (Evans, “Masters and Disciples,” 254–260; Gib- son, “Introduction to the Biblia Latina cum Glossa Ordinaria,” IX, n31; Grabois, “Hebraica Veritas and Jewish-Christian Intellectual Relations in the Twelft h Century,” 613–634; Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 47, 52–55). Th is instance does not necessarily refl ect a twelft h-century encounter with Jews because the reference to Jewish practice is a verbatim borrowing from Rabanus of Mainz (Expositiones in Leviticum, 5.2, Patrologia Latina, vol. 410). Furthermore, it is impossible to ascertain whether Rabanus himself witnessed Jewish practice, because he oft en quotes directly from sources without cita- tion. It is noteworthy that Hugh of St. Victor, who did consult with Jews, skims over Le- viticus 15. 83. Smalley, “An Early Twelft h-Century Commentator on the Literal Sense of Leviti- cus,” 78–99. 84. Th ere is no critical edition of the Historia Scholastica. A later interpolation identifi es the zavah with the woman with a blood fl ow in the gospels and writes: “Whence too it was said by the Lord to a woman discharging blood, aft er she was cured: ‘Go, and sin no more (John 8).’ Th rough which it is clear that the disease had befallen her because of her own sin.” 85. Patrologia Latina, vol. 198:1208–1209. Consider the following later interpolation: “Th e Hebrews recount that if anyone sleeps with a woman on the fi rst day of her menstruation, and a child is conceived, and lives, within ten years it shall be leprous. But if he does so on the second day, the child will be leprous by the twentieth year and so on until the seventh day” (1208d). 86. Ibid. 87. Ibid., 1099c. 88. Peter Comestor, Historia Scholastica, Patrologia Latina, vol. 198:1205a–d. Comestor explains that even with such clear evidence, “the Hebrews nevertheless believe that children do not have sin.” Peter’s familiarity with Jewish rejection of original sin may suggest contact with Jewish scholars. 89. Book 19:140. Compare to the penitentials of the German Pietists, discussed in chapter 3.

232 · Notes to Pages 159–65 90. Th ere are no extant critical editions of Ivo’s Decretum. See Patrologia Latina, vol. 161:15, 150, 891. 91. See Bruce Brasington’s comparison of the Decretum and the Panormia at htt p:// project.knowledgeforge.net/ivo/decretum/idsort_1p0.pdf (accessed 2005). 92. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 183. 93. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 43–69; Miramon, Les “Donnes” au Moyen Age, 152– 154. Th anks to Elisheva Baumgarten for this reference. 94. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 190. 95. Brundage explains that Gratian was largely successful until 1350, when the state courts began asserting legal control over citizens’ sexuality (Law, Sex, and Christian Soci- ety, 579). 96. Ibid., 235–255. 97. C33 q. 4, c. 7, cited in Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 246. 98. Ibid. On the increased interest in marriage laws in the Middle Ages, see 260–288; and Elliot, Spiritual Marriage 142–155. 99. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Medieval Christian Society, 242. 100. Peter Lombard, Sentences, 4:32, 451–456; Marcia Colish, Peter Lombard, 2:658– 662. 101. Payer, Bridling of Desire, 106. Gratian does quote Gregory: “so, too, even when they have not given birth, they should certainly be prevented from having sexual relations with their husbands when they are undergoing their usual fl ow of menstruation” (Decre- tum 5 c. 2). 102. John of Freiburg, Summa Confessorum, 4:2 q. 45 (220vb), cited by Payer in Bridling of Desire, 230n118. 103. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 283. 104. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 150–151; Payer, Bridling of Desire, 106. 105. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society , 451. 106. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 150–151. 107. Gratian, Treatise on the Laws, D.6.C.3.1, p. 21. 108. Gratian was familiar with penitential laws and according to Payer is indebted to Th eodore with regard to his stance on sexual relations with one’s wife when she is adulterous: C32, q. 1, c. 6; Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 114. 109. Interestingly, Meens notes that the discrepancy between Rufi nus and Gratian echoes the earlier disagreement between Th eodore and Gregory. Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Su- perstition,’ ” 290. 110. Bynum, Jesus as Mother, 172; Bynum, “Religious Women in the Later Middle Ages,” 121–139; McGinn, “Changing Shape of Late Medieval Mysticism,” 201–205; Schulenburg “Sexism and the Celestial Gynaeceum from 500 to 1200,” 122, 127, 131n11. 111. For a review of the many theories, see Bynum, “Religious Women in the Later Middle Ages,” 122–129. 112. It is interesting to note that in the Byzantine church, where menstrual laws are still followed, there are comparatively few female saints (Talbot, Holy Women of Byzantium, x–xiii).

Notes to Pages 165–69 · 233 113. Atkinson, “ ‘Precious Balsam in a Fragile Glass,’ ” 131–143. 114. Newman, Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Th eology of the Feminine, 119. 115. Ibid., 118. 116. Summa Th eologica, 3:2698 (Supplement Q. 39, srt 1); Brown, “Th e Notion of ‘I will make Mary Male,’ ” 24–29. 117. Th e female saints most venerated in the Middle Ages were also overwhelmingly virgins. Newman, “Flaws in the Golden Bowl,” 21, 28. 118. Restrictions against women learning actually increased between the twelft h and fourteenth centuries. In order to gain authority they could not rely on book learning but rather had to rely on the vision of God (Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, 169). On the association between vernacular theology and women’s mysticism in the later Middle Ages, see McGinn, “Changing Shape of Late Medieval Mysticism,” 201–211. 119. Th omas of Chobham, who died between 1233 and 1236, is an exception. 120. Wood, “Th e Doctors’ Dilemma,” 721–722. 121. Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 122–123, 138, 214, 275; for a diff erent understanding, see Lester, “Embodied Voices,” 195. 122. Th is understanding may have contributed to the resurgence of churching as a purifi catory measure from both the sin of concupiscence and from seminal pollution. Although male theologians required churching as a rite of purifi cation, many women embraced the custom to express their spirituality. Lee, “Purifi cation of Women aft er Child- birth,” 48; Rieder, “Between the Pure and Polluted.” On Jewish women’s acculturation of the churching ritual, see Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, 105–116. 123. Elliot, Fallen Bodies. 124. Brown, “Th e Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” 427–443, especially 434. 125. Dyan Elliot adapts Mary Douglas’s formulation that impurity is matt er out of place to the reformers’ att itude toward celibacy: “Women were the matt er that was out of place in the reformers’ vision; the dirt that imperiled sacerdotal purity. And so, like dirt, they were ruthlessly set to one side” (Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 102).

conclusion

1. My allusion to Marina Warner’s Alone of All Her Sex: Th e Myth and Cult of the Virgin Mary is deliberate. In a separate study, I argue that the Zohar describes Sarah as immaculate in response to the symbol of Maria Immaculata. See Koren, “Immaculate Sarah.” 2. Th e Zohar interprets this verse metaphorically to demonstrate the signifi cance of man’s origins. “Th e rock whence you are hewn” refers to the penis and the “pit from which you were dug out” refers to the womb. 3. Zohar 1:122a; compare 1:124b; and Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 14a. Genesis 18:11 reads: “Sarah stopped (h.adal) having the periods of women.” Later exegetes ignore the plain sense of the verse and interpret the Hebrew term h.adal as “begin.” Th is reading suggests that the ninety-year-old Sarah had never menstruated before that moment. Mor- dechai Aqiva Friedman att ributes this new reading to Rabbi Meir and his school, which taught that only those who observe menstrual laws will be blessed with sons. Th e BdN

234 · Notes to Pages 169–72 (19) enlarges upon this interpretation, explaining that “when the matriarchs observed the laws of niddah, their prayers were immediately answered [and they conceived sons]. Sarah was barren, her source was closed and her womb was sealed. Nonetheless, as soon as she observed the laws of niddah, her prayers were answered” (Friedman, “Genesis 18:11 in the Midrash,” 95–102). Rather than privilege Sarah for observing menstrual laws, the Zohar privileges Sarah for her amenorrhea. 4. According to Genesis Rabbah 72:6, all four matriarchs were prophetesses. In the Zohar, the matriarchs Rebecca and Rachel also att ained union with the Shekhinah (Zohar 1:140b), and the Holy Spirit rested on Leah (Zohar 1:157a); compare 1:168b. Nonetheless, the Zohar considers Sarah’s spiritual status unique (Zohar 1:159b–160a). 5. Zohar 1:81b, 1:111b, 1:122b. 6. Zohar 1:117b. 7. Jacob Landau, Sefer Ha-Agur, 230 par. 1388. On Landau and the Zohar, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 153. 8. H. atam Sofer, Hanhagot to Shulkhan Arukh, Orekh H. ayim, 88a cited by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35. 9. Har ha-Qodesh, 172, cited by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35. 10. Mishnah Berurah 7, par. 88. Joseph Karo urged women to avoid cemeteries because they could cause harm to the world. Th ough he is silent on the cause of this danger, his source, as noted by H. allamish and Huss, is the Zohar 2:196a. Joseph Karo, Beit Yoseph, Yoreh Deah 359; H. allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 167; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 159; compare Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35. 11. Sefer ha-Minhagim of H. abad 69, 2, cited by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35. 12. For the historical development of this practice, see Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 21–22; BdN, 17n99. 13. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,”112. 14. Yedidiah Dinary compiled an exhaustive list of the laws that restrict menstruants’ access to the sacred in his Hebrew article “Profanation of the Holy” (13–37); see also Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 103–115. 15. H. allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar into the Realm of Halakhah during the Mid- dle Ages”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 178. 16. Gries, Sifr ut ha-Hanhagot, 76; H. allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 121. Th ere are a few other examples of mystical treatises that follow the well-known legal framework of Joseph Karo’s sixteenth-century Shulh. an Arukh — most notably the Shulh. an Arukh falsely att ributed to Isaac Luria. Shulh. an Arukh ha-Ari is an abridgment of Jacob Tsemah.’s Sefer Nagid-u- Metsaveh. Gries, Sifr ut ha-Hanhagot , 87; H. allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 123–125; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 178. 17. Yesh Skhar, 272, citing Zohar 2:111. 18. Ibid., 269, 272, citing Zohar 3:79a and 2:111. 19. H. allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha- Raqia, 178. 20. Teiburg, ha-Zohar be-Nigleh, 203, citing Zohar 3:97a (RM). 21. Ibid., 216, citing Zohar 1:90a.

Notes to Pages 172–75 · 235 22. Ibid., 105, citing Zohar 2:36a. 23. H. allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha- Raqia, 178. 24. Introduction to Shulh. an Arukh ha-Zohar. 25. Shulh. an Arukh ha-Zohar , 255 par.176; original source Zohar 3:97a (RM). 26. Ibid., 258–265, par. 198. 27. He cites the Zoharic passage discussed above as his source (1:126a).

236 · Notes to Pages 175–76 bibliography

manuscripts

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Index

Abraham (patriarch), 68, 87 Bah. ya ben Asher, 111–12, 120 Abraham ben David, 102 Bakhtin, Mikhail, 86 Abraham of Cologne, 58–59 basilisk. See serpent imagery abstention. See chastity; menstruation; Baskin, Judith, 2, 51 sexuality and sexual relations Beraita d’Niddah (BdN), 28, 186n1; Abu Aaron, 49 comparison with rabbinic law, 28–33; Abulafi a, Abraham, 201n34 Hekhalot literature/traditions and, adepts, 15–17, 21, 68, 73, 116, 133 36–37, 41, 59; infl uence of, 43, 51, Afriyya of Basra, 137 173; Kabbalah and kabbalists and, Against Heresies, 75 118–20; view of menstrual impurity/ Ahriman, 89–90 menstruants, 29–33, 41–42, 69, 118–19, Ahura Mazda, 89–90 122 Ain Sof, 64, 85 Biale, David, 6 Āisha, 130–31 biblical commentaries, 111, 122. See also Albert, Ada Rapoport. See Rapoport- Leviticus: commentaries and exegesis; Albert, Ada Christian, 158–64; Nahmanides, Alfonso the Wise, 96 108–11; Recanati, 122 al Nakawa, Israel, 122 biology (theories), 103–4, 216n23. See al-Qushayrī, 134–35 also Aristotle and Aristotelianism; al-Th alabi, 87 Democritus; diff erentiation, sexual; Altmann, Alexander, 57 Galen; gynecological theories and amenorrhea and amenorrheacs, 138–39, gynecology; Isaac the Blind 170, 172, 218n55, 234–35n3 births, monstrous, 231n61. See also Angelet, Joseph, 64, 89, 94, 210n26 progeny Angel of Death, 114, 118 blessings. See prayers and blessings, Anselm of Laon, 160 recitation of arayot. See sexuality and sexual relations: blood, 21–23, 104, 184n46, 185n65, 217n38. forbidden See also menstrual blood Aristotle and Aristotelianism, 63–64, 101, body-spirit dichotomy, 138, 147 106–8, 216n21, 218n58 books (holy), 45–46, 50, 193nn14–15, asceticism, 16, 37, 140–41, 143 195n45, 225n5 Augustine of Canterbury (archbishop), 147 Bordo, Susan, 138 Augustine of Hippo, 161 Branham, Joan R., 146 Avner of Burgos, 64 Brinner, William, 88 Azriel of Gerona, 72 Brody, Seth, 65 Brown, Peter, 171 Baalei ha-Nefesh, 102 Brundage, James, 152, 165, 167 baal qeri, the, 9, 19–21, 52, 180n50, 180n53, Burchard (bishop of Worms), 164–65 197n78, 229n19 Bynum, Caroline, 21, 169

277 canon law and legal compendia, 151, death, 6–7, 33–34, 112, 117–18, 172, 188n37. 153–54, 157, 164–68 See also Angel of Death; corpse Canon of Regino of Prüm, 150–51 impurity celibacy, 145, 156, 171 Decretum (Burchard), 164–65 chariot. See merkavah/Merkavah Decretum (Gratian; Harmony of Discordant mysticism and mystics Canons), 157, 165–66 Charlemagne, 152 Decretum (Ivo of Chartres), 165 chastity, 145, 161. See also sexual relations, Deitsh, Yoseph Eliyahu, 175 forbidden; virginity de Leon, Moses. See Moses de Leon of children, conceiving, 37–38. See also Guadalajara procreation Democritus, 101 Christianity and Christians, 96 (See also demonic pollution. See menstruants; clergy-laity dichotomy; mysticism and Samael mystics, female: Christian); att itude to de Nie, Giselle, 152 ritual acts/purity, 126, 144–48, 174 (See De Rerum Naturis (On the Nature of also menstrual laws; menstruation); Th ings), 159 British and Irish, 149–50, 228n12, 230n34; dhikr (form of Islamic prayer), 132–34, monastic, 51; reforms (See clerical re- 142–43, 226n30 forms); science and, 98; Syrian, 102 Didascalia Apostolorum, 146 churches, 144–52, 168 diff erentiation, sexual, 100–102. See also churching ritual, 234n122 gynecological theories and gynecology church reforms. See clerical reforms Dionysius (bishop of Alexandria), 146 circumambulation, 131–32, 143 distana. See menstruants clergy-laity dichotomy, 157, 167, 170 divine, the: access to, 1, 4–5, 17–18, 133–34, clerical marriage, 157, 165 174; barriers to, 2, 10–11, 16–18, 26–27, clerical reforms, 156–57, 164 37, 42, 51–52, 136, 193n14; emulation of, clothing, 82–83, 208n49, 208n55 43, 70–71; female and male aspects, Cohen, Shaye, 55 57–58, 60. See also Shekhinah; Yesod College of Montpelier, 102 divine harmony/union, 67, 70, 76–81, 133 Comestor, Peter, 163–64, 232n88 divine name, 26, 40–42, 71, 74; contem- concupiscence, 145, 148–49, 160–61 plation of/meditation on, 58, 133–34; Conference on the Birds, 139–40 Hekhalot literature/traditions and, 42; confessional manuals. See summa Pietist esoteric theology and, 53; ritual confessorum acts/purity and, 69, 202n49 corpse impurity, 31–33, 118, 188n32 divine vision, 72, 74. See also mystical Corrector, Th e, 164–65 vision; Shekhinah creation accounts, 55–56, 79 divine world, 75–77, 81, 206n21, 206n24 cults, Near Eastern, 105, 188n37 Douglas, Mary, 6, 95–96 Cummean, penitential of, 151 dualism and duality, 100, 138–39. See also Shekhinah Dan, Joseph, 15 Dead Sea sects. See Qumran community education of women. See women’s and literature education

278 · Index Eilberg-Schwartz, Howard, 95 Gikatilla, Joseph, 64–67, 72–73, 94–95 ejaculation, 9–10, 19–20, 51–52, 132. See Gilbert the Universal, 160 also baal qeri, the; seminal pollution Glossa Ordinaria, 157–61, 164 Eleazar of Worms, 49, 52–56, 58 God and Godhead, 86. See also divine, the; Eliade, Mircea, 5 sefi rot/sefi rotic realm Elliot, Dyan, 157, 234n125 grape and wine imagery, 111–12 entries, mystical, 73, 204n77 Gratian, 157, 164–69 eternal fl ame, the, 45 Greek culture and science, 98–100, 102, Etymologies, 154–55, 159 154–55 Eve, 89–90, 111–12, 172 Gregorian reforms. See clerical reforms evil and evil inclination, 34, 84–89, 94–95, Gregory (pope), 147–51, 229n19 116–17, 188–89n41. See also spiritual Gregory of Tours, 152 status of women gynecological theories and gynecology, exegesis. See biblical commentaries 103, 106. See also diff erentiation, sexual exorcism, 36, 46–47, 87 extirpation. See karet h. adīth literature, 130–33 Ezekiel (prophet), 5–6, 15, 56–58, 64–65, H. afets H. ayim. See Kagan, Israel Meir 72–74, 204n73 Hāfi z Shīrāzī, 136 Ezra of Gerona, 103 H. agigah (Mishnah), 55–56 halakhah, 55, 121, 174, 198n83, 224nn161–162 faith and science. See science and theology Halakhot Gedolot, 57 family purity. See ritual acts/purity Hamadan, Joseph, 64, 79–82, 91–92, 97, family purity laws. See menstrual laws 206n21 fanā (annihilation of the self into the H. anina. See Neh. unyah ben Haqanah divine), 143 Harmony of Discordant Canons. See female and male dichotomy, 138 Decretum (Gratian) fetus, 37, 101–4, 153–55, 216n23 H. asidei Ashkenaz. See German Pietists Finnian, Saint, penitential of, 152 H. atam Sofer. See Sofer, Moses Firey, Abigail, 150 h. avurah story, 24–25, 37–39 Fonrobert, Charlott e, 10 Hekhalot literature and traditions, 2, 15, food preparation and restrictions, 22, 68 39–41, 45, 173 (See also Qumran Foucault, Michel, 3, 98 community and literature); Beraita Four Books of Sentences, Th e (Libri d’Niddah (BdN) and, 41–42, 59; infl u- Quatt uor Sententiarum), 157 ence of, 43; Kabbalah and kabbalists, fruits, 76, 95 67; magic, sympathetic and, 25; purity and purity rituals, 17–20, 22–27, 182n16, Galen, 99–104, 106–7, 216n21, 217n29 184n55; Temple and Temple cult and, Geh, 90 15–16 gender, fl uidity of, 68, 202n43 Hekhalot Rabbati, 23, 37–38, 54 gender identity, 138–39 Hekhalot Zutarti, 45–46 German Pietists, 43, 173, 195n37; infl uence Hertz, Robert, 100 of, 49–50; menstrual laws and, 51–53, Hildegard of Bingen, 169–70 59–60; Merkavah mysticism and, 51–52 Hippocrates, 100–101, 106

Index · 279 Historia Scholastica, 163–64 isolation of menstruants. See menstruants: holiness, 4–5, 41–42, 71, 182n31, 203n67 isolation of; separation from Holiness Code, 7, 70 menstruants holy communion, 168 Isserles, Moses, 174 Holy Lett er, Th e. See Iggeret ha-Qodesh Ivo of Chartres (bishop), 165 Holy of Holies, 15, 17, 42, 46–47, 64–67, 87, 146, 173 Jacob ben Sheshet, 86 Huguccio, 167, 230n56 Jantzen, Grace M., 3 Jerome, 155, 231n61 Iberian peninsula, 120–22 Jewish mysticism. See mysticism and ibn al-Arabī, Muh. yi l-Dīn, 141–42 mystics ibn Aldabi, Meir, 121 Jews: Castilian, 96; Italian, 47, 49–50, 173, ibn Att ār, 138–40 193n3 ibn Khalīfa al-Washtānī, Muh. ammad, 134 John of Freiburg, 155, 166 ibn Shueib, 117 Judah the Pietist, 50–51, 54 ibn Tibbon, Moses ben Samuel, 103 Judgment, realm of, 83, 87–89, 99, 102, 112 Idel, Moshe, 63, 67, 76, 91 idolatry and idol worship, 34, 159, 161, Kaba, 143 231–32n76 Kabbalah and kabbalists, 63–65, 98 (See Iggeret ha-Qodesh (Th e Holy Lett er), 70 also Hamadan, Joseph; Nahmanides); imitatio dei. See divine, the: emulation of Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) and, 118–20; immersions, ritual, 80, 174–75. See also biblical, rabbinic, and Hekhalot tradi- ritual acts/purity; ritual baths tions and, 66–67, 76; Castilian, 112, impurity (See also corpse impurity; ritual 114, 118, 120–21; gynecological theories acts/purity; separation from men- and, 103; lunar symbolism and, 78–79; struants; sexuality and sexual relations: view of evil, 85, 89; view of menstrual forbidden; sitra ah. ra: as barrier to impurity and menstruants, 66–67, 75, divine pursuits): degrees of, 85–86; in 119, 173; view of women, 98 Islam (See purity and purity rituals: Kagan, Israel Meir, 174 Islamic); metaphor for evil, 84–85; karet, 110–11 moral and physical, 116–17 Katz, Marion, 129–31 inferiority, female, 98–101, 104, 106 Keter Shem Tov, 58–59 interpretation, biblical. See biblical Knesset Yisrael (Community of Israel), commentaries 76–77 Interpreter of Desires, Th e, 140–41 Irenaeus (bishop of Lyons), 75 Laban, 162 Isaac Aboav, 121–22 Landau, Jacob, 174 Isaac of Acre, 90–91, 111, 118 land of Israel, 94, 110 Isaac the Blind, 63, 85, 99, 101–4, 119 Langer, Ruth, 57 Isidore (Bishop of Seville), 154–55, 159 Langermann, Tzvi, 109 Islam and Muslims: literature, 88, 127–35; law, Jewish. See halakhah meditation and prayer, 132–34; ritual Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval acts/purity and, 48, 126, 174; Sunni, 129 Europe, 152

280 · Index law codes, Christian. See canon law and medicine, 98, 102–3. See also science and legal compendia theology “Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect, Th e,” Meens, Rob, 149–50 109–10 Megillat Ah. imats. See Scroll of Ah. imaats Laws of Niddah (Hilkhot Niddah), 105 memory, importance of, 39 left and right dichotomy, 100–103 Menorat ha-Maor (Aboav), 121–22 leprosy, 33, 108–9, 154–55, 222n129, 231n61 Menorat ha-Maor (al Nakawa), 122 Lesses, Rebecca, 36 menstrual blood, 99; association with Leviticus, 105 (See also Holiness Code; death or poison, 7, 107–8, 117–18; fear priestly sources); commentaries and of, 6, 115; magic and, 114–15, 221n106; exegesis, 108–12, 147, 158–63; cultic polluting eff ect, 108; purgative eff ect, and sexual restrictions, 66, 99 (See also 106; smell of, 41, 223n151 menstrual laws); penitential literature menstrual impurity: as barrier to divine and prayers, 159 pursuits (See divine, the: barriers to); Libellus Responsionum, 147, 149, 168, corpse impurity and, 31–33, 188n32; 228–29n13 Hekhalot literature/traditions and, 17, Liber Poenitentialis, 153–54, 156 22–27, 38–39, 184n55; Islamic view, Libri duo de synodalibus causis et disciplinis 128–32; Kabbalah/kabbalists’ view, ecclesiasticus (Th e Collection in Two 173; moral pollution and, 117 Books), 164 menstrual laws, 94–95, 214n84 (See also Lieberman, Saul, 36 ritual acts/purity: laws of); Beraita Liebes, Yehuda, 64 d’Niddah and, 41–42; biblical, 7, 9, 41, Lilith, 91, 118 179n36; Christian, 168, 171 (See also Lombard, Peter, 157, 166 menstruation: Christian views and Lubavitch Book of Customs, 174 practices); Pietist emphasis on, 51–54; lunar symbolism, 78–79, 93, 211–12n49 Pisqei Niddah, 192n101; rabbinic, 7–9, lust, 145, 149, 160–62, 167, 171. See also 179–80nn41-42; Zohar and, 94, 176 sexuality and sexual relations menstrual separation. See separation from menstruants magic, sympathetic, 18, 25, 114–16, menstruants, 29–35, 90, 104–5, 134, 162–63 187n24 (See also spiritual status of women); Magnus, Albertus, 107 access to the divine/sacred, 1, 119, Maid of Ludmir, 4 134–35, 165–66, 168–71, 174, 235n14; Maimonides, 91, 103 association with evil/danger, 87–89, male and female dichotomy, 138 111, 114–16, 120, 188–89n41, 220n89; Marcus, Ivan, 54 books (holy) and, 45–46, 50, 195n45, marital sex. See sexuality and sexual 225n5; disparagement of, 90, 105, relations: sanctioned 217n46; isolation of, 81–82, 108, 121–22 marriage debt, 155, 166–67 (See also separation from menstru- Mathnawī, 136–37 ants); ocular power, 109–10 (See also matriarchs, 235n4. See also Rachel; Sarah menstruous eye/gaze); recitation of Maurus, Hrabanus. See Rabanus of Mainz blessings and prayers, 31, 48, 187n22, Mazda. See Ahura Mazda 226n31; sexual relations and (See

Index · 281 menstruants (continued) mystical vision, 55 (See also divine vision; sexuality and sexual relations: forbid- Shekhinah); achieving, 52, 68–70, den); treatment/view of Islam, 130–31, 198n89; impurity and, 58–59, 176; 142; view of mystics, 1–2, 99 prerequisites, 7, 15, 25, 41–42, 126 menstruation, 112–13; Christian views and mysticism and mystics, 63–64, 67–69 (See practices, 144–45, 148, 151–56 (See also also Hekhalot literature and traditions; menstrual laws: Christian); concupis- Kabbalah and kabbalists; mysticism cence and, 160–61; cosmic/mystical and mystics, female); comparison of signifi cance of, 75–77; death and, 6–7, Muslim and Jewish, 141–43; obser- 33–34, 188n37; disease and, 33, 108; vance of commandments, 70, 197n75; as evil, 87–90, 161; as exile, 93–94; psychology of, 2–3 idolatry and, 34, 159, 161, 231–32n76; mysticism and mystics, female: absence male, 227n58; moon and, 78–79, in Judaism, 2, 126, 173, 176; Christian, 211–12n49; mythological underpin- 144–45, 169; examples, 3–4; Islamic, nings, 89–90; Shekhinah (feminine 137–38 aspect of God) and, 75–83, 90–92 menstruous eye/gaze, 106–11, 219n64 Nahmanides, 63, 99, 104–6; Beraita merkavah/Merkavah mysticism and d’Niddah and, 119; infl uence of Aris- mystics, 15–16, 25–26, 36, 55–58, totle and others, 108, 110; infl uence on 72; German Pietists and, 51–52; Castilians, 112; students of, 111; Torah Kabbalah/kabbalists and, 65–66 exegesis, 108–11, 120 Meroz, Ronit, 64 Natan the Physician, 71 Metatron, 38 natural law, 167. See also canon law and Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 115 legal compendia Milgrom, Jacob, 7, 9–10, 34 Nazirites, 206n24 Minnis, A. J., 170 Neh. unyah ben Haqanah, 23–25, 37–40 miqveh. See ritual baths necromancy. See magic, sympathetic miracles. See mysteries, divine Neoplatonism and Neoplatonists, 64, 85 mirrors, 104, 106–8, 111 ner tamid. See eternal fl ame, the Mishkan Edut, 92 Nestorian Christians. See Christianity Mishnah, 6, 9, 55–56, 81–82 and Christians: Syrian moon, the, 78–79. See also lunar Newman, Barbara, 169–70 symbolism niddah (menstrual laws). See menstrual Moses ben Nahman. See Nahmanides laws Moses de Leon of Guadalajara, 64–65, niddah (menstruant). See menstruants 71–72, 78, 92, 112 Niddah (tractate), 179n42 Muh. ammad, 130–32 Nitronai Gaon, 48 mysteries, divine, 55–56, 98, 110 Novellae on the Tractate Niddah mystical books, 44–46. See also books (H. iddushim al Massekhet Niddah), 105 (holy) mystical entries. See entries, mystical omer, 77–78 mystical knowledge, 39. See also divine, On Dreams, 106–7 the: access to ornamentation for menstruants, 82

282 · Index Panormia, 165 Qumran community and literature, 6, parturients and parturition, 9, 32–33, 102, 34–35, 182n16, 184n55 147–48, 151, 164 Qurāan, 128–35, 193n14, 225n5 Payer, Pierre, 150–51, 166 penitential literature and prayers, 150–53, Raaya Meheimna (RM), 81–83, 93, 117–18 164–65, 230n34; Leviticus and, 159; Rabīa al-Adawiyya of Basra, 137–40 Pietists and, 53–54, 197n69, 197n76; Rabanus of Mainz (bishop), 159–60, summa confessorum (penitential 231–32n76 compendia), 153–54 rabbis: Rabbi Aqiva, 39; Rabbi Ishmael, Peter of Poitiers, 154 24, 37–39, 191n71, 191n76; Rabbi philosophy, Jewish, 63. See also science Shimon, 38; Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh. iaqi and theology; traditions, esoteric (See Rashi and school of Rashi); Rabbi physicians, 98, 103. See also Maimonides; Yoh. annan, 38 Nahmanides Rachel (matriarch), 162–63 Pietists. See German Pietists Rapoport-Albert, Ada, 4 Pines, Shlomo, 91 Rashi and school of Rashi, 47, 54–55, Poenitentiale Vindobonense, 150 194n24 portals, mystical. See entries, mystical Rationales for the Commandments, 122 Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism Recanati, Menah. em, 66, 81, 111, 122–23 (Jantzen), 3 reforms. See clerical reforms prayers and blessings, recitation of, 31, 48, Regino of Prüm (abbot), 164 187n22 right and left dichotomy, 100–103 priestly duties, 191n76 ritual acts/purity, 2–3, 11, 16, 96, 126; priestly sources, 34–35. See also Leviticus angels and, 182n23; Christian view, 126, procreation, 52, 166–67. See also children, 144–48, 174 (See also menstrual laws; conceiving; sexuality and sexual menstruation); connection to the di- relations: sanctioned vine (See divine, the: access to); laws progeny, 154. See also children, conceiving; of, 9–11, 76, 180–81nn51-52, 180n55; fetus spiritual status and, 174 prophecy and prophets, 17–18, 84–85, 170, ritual baths, 80–81, 174–75, 206n28 171. See also Ezekiel; Muh. ammad; Robert of Flamborough, 153–54, 156 spiritual status of women Rufi nus, 154–55 purity, 42, 67–68; in Islam, 127–30, 136, Rūmī, 135–37 142, 225n11; physical (See impurity: Rūzbehān Bakli, 136 moral and physical; ritual acts/purity); in Qumran community, 34–35; spiri- Saba, Abraham, 122 tual (See spirituality; spiritual status of sacred, the. See divine, the: access to; men- women) struants: access to the divine/sacred; separation from menstruants Qalonimides, 49–50 sacred-sexual dichotomy, 148. See also sex- qelippot (external shells or skins), 72–73, uality and sexual relations; Shekhinah 204n80 sakina, 88 qisas literature, 88 Salama, Umm, 130

Index · 283 salāt, 132, 135 divine, the: barriers to); view of Kab- Samael, 91, 114–15, 117–18 balah and kabbalists, 66–69, 71, 118–19, Sarah (matriarch), 68, 172–73, 234–35n3, 203n67 235n4 serpent imagery, 88, 90–91, 107–8, 219n64 Sar Torah, 16, 39, 98–99 serpent in Garden of Eden, 89–90, 172, Satan, 118 211n45 Satlow, Michael, 10 sexual desire/libido. See concupiscence; Schimmel, Annemarie, 139 sexuality and sexual relations Schlesinger, Aqiva, 174 sexual diff erentiation. See diff erentiation, Scholem, Gershom, 2, 75, 87 sexual science and theology, 98, 102–3, 109, sexuality and sexual relations, 70–71, 123; 217n29 clerical reforms and, 164; discouraging, Scroll of Ah. imaats, 44–46 82, 165; enhancing, 144, 152; forbidden, Secret of the Nut. See Sod ha-Egoz 55–56, 66–67, 79, 99, 104, 110, 120, secrets, divine. See mysteries, divine 164–65, 212–13n63; forbidden (by Secrets of Women, 107 Christianity), 151, 154–56, 167, 171, Secunda, Samuel, 90 230n34, 230n56; sanctioned, 70, 95, Sefer ha-Agur, 174 130; sanctioned (by Christianity), 152, Sefer ha-Emunah ve-ha-Bitah. on, 86 155–57, 165–67 Sefer ha-H. inukh, 121 Shabaka of Basra, 137 Sefer ha-Malbush, 53, 197n66 Shawāna, 137 Sefer ha-Merkavah, 44–45 Shaykhah, Qadiri, 141 Sefer ha-Qanah, 81, 123 Shefatiah, 46–47 Sefer ha-Rimmon, 78, 112 Shekhinah (feminine aspect of God), Sefer ha-Roqeah. , 52, 54 51–52, 67–74, 172–74, 204n75; dual Sefer ha-Shem, 52, 55 nature, 87–88, 91–92, 94; exile of, 93–94; Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh (Th e Book of the gender fl uidity, 96–97, 214–15n97; Zohar Revealed), 175 images of the impure concubine and Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot (Book of Ratio- maidservant, 91–94, 213n66; menstrua- nales for the Commandments), 79–80, tion and, 74–83, 90–92; sexual relations 97, 206n21 and, 77, 92 Sefer Tashaq, 97 Shem Tov ibn Gaon, 111, 220n89 sefi rot/sefi rotic realm, 64–65 Shimon bar Yoh. ai, 64, 91, 113 seminal pollution, 9–11, 16–27, 31, 54, 59. Shulh. an Arukh ha-Zohar (SAZ), 175–76 See also ejaculation sins, sexual, 116–17, 165. See also impurity, separation from menstruants, 41–42, 99, ritual; sexuality and sexual relations: 108, 121–22, 176 (See also menstruants: forbidden isolation of; sexuality and sexual re- sitra ah. ra (the other side), 85, 88–89, lations: forbidden); Ashkenazic vs. 172–73 Sephardic practices, 48; Christian sitra masava, 85. See also sitra ah. ra (the views and practices, 145–50, 159, 165, other side) 228n8, 228n10, 228n12; from the sacred, Smith, Jonathan, 5 45–49, 194nn26–27, 195n36 (See also social order, 96

284 · Index Sod ha-Egoz (Secret of the Nut), 56–57 tetragrammaton. See divine name Sod ha-Nah. ash (Secret of the Serpent), 94 Th eodore of Tarsus (archbishop), 149–51, Sofer, Moses, 174 165, 169 Solinus, Julius, 154–55 theology and science. See science and Sophia, 75–76 theology sorcery, 115. See also magic, sympathetic Th omas Aquinas, 170 soul, the, 4, 12, 58–59, 110, 135, 140 Th omas of Chobham, 154 spirits of impurity, 111–14, 118, 122, 220n89. Tiferet, 74, 78–80, 206n24. See also Yesod See also Samael Tishby, Isaiah, 93–94 spirituality (See also divine, the: access Torah and Torah scrolls, 174–75, 207n35. to; mysticism and mystics): paths to See also Leviticus (Islam), 135–40, 142; paths to (Juda- traditions, esoteric, 49–51 ism), 3–4, 18–19, 178n14 tsaraat. See leprosy spiritual status of women, 2–3, 123, 156, 174 Tsror ha-Mor, 122 (See also menstruants: access to the divine/sacred; mysticism and mystics, Urwa, 131 female; Sarah); in Christianity, 168–71, uterus, bicameral, 100–104 234n118; clothing and, 208n55; in Islam, 135–40, 142 vegetables, 22, 40–41 Sufi s and Sufi sm, 127, 133–36, 139–43 venereal diseases, 109, 154 Summa Confessione, 154 virginity, 145, 169–71, 174. See also chastity summa confessorum (manuals for priests Virgin Mary, 170 hearing confession), 152–53 Vital, H. ayim, 3–4 Summa Decretorum, 154 supernal female. See Shekhinah walnut imagery, 56–57, 72 Swartz, Michael, 36, 39 Weissler, Chava, 4 sword imagery, 88–89 wine imagery. See grape and wine imagery synagogues, 29–30, 47, 54–55, 174, 198n84 witchcraft . See magic, sympathetic Wolfson, Elliot, 41, 97 Talmud, 76–77 (See also Mishnah); com- women, 152 (See also inferiority, female; parison with law in the BdN, 28–33; menstruants; separation from men- menstrual blood and laws, 8–10, 16, struants; spiritual status of women); 24–25, 81–82, 118; view of magic, att itude toward, 98, 135, 137, 152, 114–15; view of sexual diff erentiation, 221–22n117; avoiding, 21–22, 25–26, 101–4 184n50; exclusion of, 84, 119, 138, Teiburg, Moses H. ayim, 175 229n32; inclusion of, 139–41; re- Temple and temple cult, 5–7 (See also sponsibility for death, 112, 118, 172 synagogues); Hekhalot literature/ women’s education, 177n7, 234n118. See traditions and, 15–16; Jewish mysticism also spirituality: paths to (Islam) and, 1, 64–66, 173, 200n11; separation requirements, 7, 191n76 (See also divine, Yesh Skhar, 175 the: barriers to); transformation of, Yesod (male aspect of God), 71–72, 80, 172. 35–36 See also Shekhinah; Tiferet

Index · 285 Yisaskhar of Kremonits, 175 Meheimna; Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh); Yosef ha-ba mi Shushan ha-Birah. See divine vision, 74; female impurity and, Hamadan, Joseph 1, 75, 77–78, 116; infl uence of, 224nn161–62 zavah, the, 7, 179n36 Zoroastrian infl uences and practices, Zeev Maghen, 129 208n49; kabbalists and halakhists and, Zohar and Zoharic interpretations, 63–65, 91–92; menstrual laws/myths and, 68–69, 120–21, 172–76 (See also Raaya 89–91, 210–11n40

286 · Index