Now he will not live much longer. Before he dies all he has been through converges in his mind into one question that he has never yet asked the doorkeeper. He signals to him, as he can no longer raise his stiffening body. The doorkeeper has to bend down low to him, as their difference in size has altered, much to the man’s disadvantage. “What do you want to know now?” asks the doorkeeper. “There’s no satisfying you.” “Everyone struggles to reach the Law,” says the man. “How can it be that in all these years no one but me has asked to get in?” The doorkeeper recognizes that the man’s life is almost over and, because his hearing is failing, he roars at him, “No one else could be allowed in here. This entrance was intended only for you. I am now going to close it.”
This famous parable by Kafka from The Trial can be read as a religious allegory or as an allegory of human justice. Although it is generally thought of more in terms of the latter, it has the distinct elements of a religious allegory. The key image is that “of an inextinguishable radiance streaming out of the door of the Law.” This clearly suggests the eternal nature of the Law, which, of course, draws this eternal quality from God. This shifts the focus of the parable from human justice to the need for divine justice, and hints at the remoteness of God.
The doorkeeper guarding the gate to the Law is reminiscent of the angel placed at the gate of the Garden of Eden, with the flaming sword that turned every way, to guard the way to the tree of life (Gen. 3:24). Also echoed is the popular Christian conception of St. Peter serving as the doorkeeper at the Gates of Heaven.
Gershom Scholem has said that there are three pillars of Jewish mystical thought: the Bible, the Zohar, and the writings of Kafka. Thus he viewed Kafka’s writings, which have been interpreted in a multitude of ways, as mystical texts. Scholem pointed out parallels between “Before the Law” and passages in the Hekhalot texts about angels guarding the gates of the palaces of heaven. For a description of these angels, see “The Entrance of the Sixth Heavenly Palace,” p. 178. Compare this description with Kafka’s description of the doorkeeper in “Before the Law.” The parallels are striking, but since this Hekhalot text was little known during Kafka’s lifetime, it is not likely that he had direct knowledge of it. Moshe Idel also identifies the quest in this tale as the remnant of a mystical one. See Kabbalah: New Perspectives, p. 271.
Another perspective is suggested by Zohar 1:7b: Open the gates of righteousness for me . . . . This is the gateway to the Lord (Ps. 68:19-20). Assuredly, without entering through that gate one will never gain access to the most high King. Imagine a king greatly exalted who screens himself from the common view behind gate upon gate, and at the end, one special gate, locked and barred. Said the king: “He who wishes to enter into my presence must first of all pass through that gate.”
Another parallel is found in Ibn Gabirol’s eleventh century treatise, The Book of the Selection of Pearls (ch. 8): “The following laconic observations are said to have been addressed to a king, by one who stood by the gate of the royal palace, but who failed to obtain access. First: Necessity and hope prompted me to approach your throne. Second: My dire distress admits of no delay. Third: My disappointment would gratify the malice of my enemies. Fourth: Your acquiescence would confer advantages, and even your refusal would relieve me from anxiety and suspense.”
Max Brod, Kafka’s close friend and biographer, comments about this parable: “Kafka’s deeply ironic legend ‘Before the Law’ is not the reminiscence or retelling of this ancient lore, as it would seem at first glance, but an original creation drawn deeply from his archaic soul. It is yet another proof of his profound roots in Judaism, whose potency and creative images rose to new activities in his unconscious.” (Johannes Reuchlin und sein Kampf, Stuttgart: 1965, pp. 274-275).
Of course, “Before the Law” can also be read as a personal statement of the kind of obstruction Kafka experienced at the hands of his father. The role of the gatekeeper can also be identified with Kafka’s mother, for Kafka gave his mother the epic letter he wrote to his father, to pass on to him, but she decided not to do so. In such a reading Kafka’s father represents the Law, the strict, godlike figure. See Kafka’s Letter to His Father.
Also, Kafka’s parable is relevant to human justice, where, on many occasions, people have been denied justice by the very ones who were supposed to provide it for them. In doing so they perform the obstructive role of the gatekeeper, who was supposed to welcome the man from the country at the gate intended only for him, but instead prevented him from entering at all.
Readers may wonder why a modern parable by Franz Kafka has been included in a book of Jewish mythology. There are several reasons for this. Kafka’s fiction possesses a strong mythic element, and scholars have become increasingly aware of the strong influence on it of Jewish tradition; Kafka’s writing in general, and this parable in particular, has taken on the qualities of a sacred text in our time; and there are strong parallels between this parable and traditional Jewish myths about the quest to reach God, but also a strong element of doubt in Kafka’s parable that reflects the modern era. Just as the evolution of Jewish mythology did not end with the canonization of the Bible or the Talmud, and continued to flourish in the kabbalistic and hasidic era, so too it can be seen to continue in the modern era in the writings of Kafka. It also can be found in other seminal Jewish authors, such as I. L. Peretz, S. Y. Agnon, Bruno Schulz, and I. B. Singer.
Sources:
The Trial by Franz Kafka.
Studies:
Kafka and Kabbalah by Karl-Erich Grozinger.
“Kafka and Jewish Folklore” by Iris Bruce.
213. A JOURNEY TO THE STARS
It once happened on a voyage that a giant wave picked up the ship in which Rabbah bar Bar Hannah was a passenger and lifted it so high that he could see the resting place of the smallest star. It appeared to him like a field large enough to plant forty measures of mustard seeds. And if the wave had lifted them any higher, they would have been burned by the heat of the star.
The tall tales of Rabbah bar Bar Hannah recount astonishing events that occurred during his land and sea journeys. Here he encounters a giant wave that lifts the ship so high it almost reaches a star. For other examples of Rabbah’s tall tales, see “Fiery Waves,” p. 104; “Where Heaven and Earth Meet,” p. 194; and “The Dead of the Desert,” p. 471.
Sources:
Bava Batra 73a.
214. A JEWISH ICARUS
Yozel Frandrik was a wonder child, born in the days of the Temple. He could speak from the time he was born. When he was still a child, he crept into the Temple and cut off the Shem ha-Meforash, the Ineffable Name of God. Then he took a knife and made a cut in his foot and put the Name inside it, and sewed it shut. At that instant he grew wings, and after that there was nothing he could not accomplish.
He flew like a bird and ascended on high, until he was flying with the angels. But an angel poured water on his feet, making him impure. All at once his magic powers left him, his wings fell off, and he tumbled to the ground. He could not fly any more after that, but he never returned the Ineffable Name, and no one knows where it is to this day.
This is a highly unusual oral myth collected in Israel by the Israel Folktale Archives. It is a fantasy about a strange wonder child, Yozel Frandrik. He is said to have lived in the Temple period. In an act both daring and outrageous, he steals into the Temple and cuts off God’s Name, YHVH, known as the Shem ha-Meforash. Using powers of kabbalistic wizardry, he implants the Name of God in his foot, and he immediately grows wings. Flying through the heavens, he provokes the anger of the angels, and one of them pours water on his foot, making him impure. This causes him to lose all powers and fall from heaven, just as happens to Icarus.
Indeed, this myth has all the earmarks of a Jewish Icarus. Icarus, flying with wax wings created by his father, Dedalus, flew too close to the sun, causing the wings to melt and for him to plunge to his death. Yozel Frandrik also does forbidden things, in this case cutting off God’
s Name from the Temple, then implanting the Name in his foot, which is another desecration of the Name. Still, like Moses when he struck the rock instead of speaking to it, the magic works—the power of the Name causes Yozel to grow wings. In this case, his fall from heaven is not due to melting wings, but to an angel purposely rendering him impure, in order to sap him of his powers. This indeed is what takes place, although Yozel survives. Nor does he give the Name back. Thus he is portrayed as unrepentant to the end.
David J. Halperin, in a private communication, suggests another perspective: “To my mind, there is no doubt at all that this tale is rooted in the anti-Christian Toledot Yeshu tradition of the Middle Ages. Yozel Frandrik is none other than Jesus. His name is a corruption of ‘Yeshu (ben) Pandira,’ the standard rabbinic designation for Jesus. In the Toledot Yeshu tradition, Jesus sneaks into the Temple and learns the letters of God’s Name from the Foundation Stone. He writes the Name on parchment, which he smuggles out of the Temple by concealing it in an incision he has made in his thigh. Later he flies up to heaven; Rabbi Judah Ish Bartota (=Judas Iscariot, presumably)
flies up after him. After an inconclusive aerial dogfight between the two, Judah deliberately ejaculates his semen onto Jesus, with the result that Jesus becomes impure and falls down to earth. The parallels with ‘Yozel Frandrik’ seem to me overwhelming.”
In another text, Megillat Ahimaaz, a dead man is brought to life when God’s Name, written on parchment, is implanted in his arm. However, such apparent life leaves the man without a soul, and unable to pronounce God’s Name during prayers. It is this inability that gives him away. See “The Young Man Without a Soul” in Gabriel’s Palace, pp. 145-148. A parallel use of the Name to bring the dead to life is found in the Ma’aseh Buch #171, where a killer is brought to life to confess his sin.
Sources:
IFA 4591.
215. EZEKIEL’S VISION
In the thirtieth year, on the fifth day of the fourth month, when I was in the community of exiles by the Chebar Canal, the heavens opened and I saw visions of God. On the fifth day of the month—it was the fifth year of the exile of King Jehoiachin—the word of the Lord came to the priest Ezekiel son of Buzi, by the Chebar Canal, in the land of the Chaldeans. And the hand of the Lord came upon him there.
I looked, and lo, a stormy wind came sweeping out of the north—a huge cloud and flashing fire, surrounded by a radiance; and in the center of it, in the center of the fire, a gleam as of amber. In the center of it were also the figures of four creatures. And this was their appearance:
They had the figures of human beings. However, each had four faces, and each of them had four wings; the legs of each were fused into a single rigid leg, and the feet of each were like a single calf’s hoof; and their sparkle was like the luster of burnished bronze. They had human hands below their wings. The four of them had their faces and their wings on their four sides. Each one’s wings touched those of the other. They did not turn when they moved; each could move in the direction of any of its faces.
Each of them had a human face in front; each of the four had the face of a lion on the right; each of the four had the face of an ox on the left; and each of the four had the face of an eagle at the back. Such were their faces. As for their wings, they were separated: above, each had two touching those of the others, while the other two covered its body. And each could move in the direction of any of its faces; they went wherever the spirit impelled them to go, without turning when they moved.
Such then was the appearance of the creatures. With them was something that looked like burning coals of fire. This fire, suggestive of torches, kept moving about among the creatures; the fire had a radiance, and lightning issued from the fire. Dashing to and fro among the creatures was something that looked like flares.
As I gazed on the creatures, I saw one wheel on the ground next to each of the four-faced creatures. As for the appearance and structure of the wheels, they gleamed like beryl. All four had the same form; the appearance and structure of each was as of two wheels cutting through each other. And when they moved, each could move in the direction of any of its four quarters; they did not veer when they moved. Their rims were tall and frightening, for the rims of all four were covered all over with eyes. And when the creatures moved forward, the wheels moved at their sides; and when the creatures were borne above the earth, the wheels were borne too. Wherever the spirit impelled them to go, they went—wherever the spirit impelled them—and the wheels were borne alongside them; for the spirit of the creatures was in the wheels. When those moved, these moved; and when those stood still, these stood still; and when those were borne above the earth, the wheels were borne alongside them—for the spirit of the creatures was in the wheels.
Above the heads of the creatures was a form: an expanse, with an awe-inspiring gleam as of crystal, was spread out above their heads. Under the expanse, each had one pair of wings extended toward those of the others; and each had another pair covering its body. When they moved, I could hear the sound of their wings like the sound of mighty waters, like the sound of Shaddai, a tumult like the din of an army. When they stood still, they would let their wings droop. From above the expanse over their heads came a sound. When they stood still, they would let their wings droop.
Above the expanse over their heads was the semblance of a throne, in appearance like sapphire; and on top, upon this semblance of a throne, there was the semblance of a human form. From what appeared as his loins up, I saw a gleam as of amber—what looked like a fire encased in a frame; and from what appeared as his loins down, I saw what looked like fire. There was a radiance all about him. Like the appearance of the bow that shines in the clouds on a day of rain, such was the appearance of the surrounding radiance. That was the appearance of the semblance of the Presence of the Lord. When I beheld it, I flung myself down on my face. And I heard the voice of someone speaking.
Ezekiel’s vision, which opens the Book of Ezekiel, is intended to be understood as a sign that God is about to withdraw his protection of the Temple and of Jerusalem. It is hard to understate the importance of this strange vision of the Divine Chariot (Merkavah). The description of the chariot became the basis for an entire branch of Jewish mysticism, what is known as Ma’aseh Merkavah, or Mysteries of the Chariot. (The other branch is Ma’aseh Bereshit, Mysteries of the Creation.) In the Mishnah, strict limitations are placed on the study of these two mystical branches: “Ma’aseh Bereshit may not be expounded in the presence of two, nor the Merkavah in the presence of one, unless he is wise and understanding” (Mishnah Hag. 2.1). It is clear that the rabbis didn’t want those who were untutored in mystical principles to delve too deeply into these esoteric studies. For an example of how careful the rabbis were in discussing Ma’aseh Merkavah, see the next entry, “Mysteries of the Chariot.”
Ezekiel’s vision is one of the most difficult portions in the Bible, yet it is also regarded as a detailed revelation of divine secrets. Those who sought to expound it believed that it revealed the secrets of the angelic realms, of God’s throne, and even of God Himself. The Divine Chariot Ezekiel sees is also God’s Throne of Glory. Somehow God’s Throne and Chariot are fused into one, traveling to earth yet remaining in its place in heaven.
This vision inspired subsequent literary descriptions of heavenly journeys, and this genre of Jewish mystical texts is known as Hekhalot texts, and includes such important works as Hekhalot Rabbati and 3 Enoch. Most of these texts involve the ascent of either Rabbi Ishmael or Rabbi Akiba. David J. Halperin’s The Faces of the Chariot is the most extensive study of the literature of Ma’aseh Merkavah.
Sources:
Ezekiel 1:1-28
Studies:Jerusalem in the Book of Ezekiel by Julie Galambush.
The Faces of the Chariot by David J. Halperin.
The Heart and the Fountain: An Anthology of Jewish Mystical Experiences by Joseph Dan.
216. MYSTERIES OF THE CHARIOT
Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai and his student, Rabbi
Eleazar ben Arakh, once rode through a field on their donkeys. And Rabbi Eleazar said: “Please, rabbi, teach me something about the Mysteries of the Chariot.”
“Surely you know that such mysteries may not be revealed to a single student, unless he is able to comprehend them on his own,” said Rabbi Yohanan. “Therefore you may begin the discussion, and I will decide whether to speak of such secrets.”
At that moment Rabbi Eleazar dismounted from his donkey, wrapped himself in his prayer shawl, and sat down beneath an olive tree. “Why did you dismount?” asked Rabbi Yohanan, surprised. Rabbi Eleazar replied: “When we discuss Ma’aseh Merkavah, the Mysteries of the Chariot, the Shekhinah descends to listen, accompanied by many angels. Should I, then, be seated upon a donkey?”
Rabbi Eleazar then began to discourse upon these very mysteries, and as he spoke a circle of fire descended from heaven to surround that field, and a song of praise rose up from the trees. And in the center of that circle an angel appeared, who stood before them and said: “Indeed, these are the very same Mysteries of the Chariot that are spoken of behind the Pargod.” Then the angel disappeared, and they heard nothing more than the wind.
At that moment Rabbi Yohanan turned to his student and kissed him on the forehead. “How blessed is God to have a son like Abraham, and how blessed is Abraham to have a son such as you, Rabbi Eleazar.”
Rabbi Yehoshua learned of this incident from Rabbi Yossi ha-Kohen while they were also traveling along a road. They too agreed to stop and discuss the Mysteries of the Chariot. All at once the skies became covered with clouds and a splendid rainbow appeared. And the rabbis saw that clusters of angels had gathered around to listen, like guests at a wedding who rejoice with the bride and groom.
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