Modern Judaism

A text:

Rava said: If the righteous wished, they could create a world, as it is written [Isaiah 59:2]: “it is your iniquities that have separated you from your God” (i.e., made a distinction between you and God). Rava created a man and sent him to Rabbi Zera. Rabbi Zera spoke to him but he [the man] did not answer. Then he [Rabbi Zera] said to him: You are from the companions (i.e., a creature created by the rabbis). Return to your dust. Rabbi Hanina and Rabbi Oshaia spent every Sabbath eve studying the Book of Creation (Sefer Yezirah); a third-grown calf was created for them, and they ate it.

—Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 65B

An observation:

Prague’s oldest existing synagogue, the 13th-century Altneuschul (Staronová Synagoga) practices an idiosyncratic—and apparently unique—liturgy during Friday evening services. Psalms 92 (The psalm for the Sabbath day) and 93 are said in their entirety and then repeated before the cantor issues the formal call to prayer (Barekhu).

A text:

During the reign of Rudolph II there lived among the Jews of Prague a man named Bezalel Löw, who, because of his tall stature and great learning, was called “der hohe” [the Great] Rabbi Löw. This rabbi was well versed in all of the arts and sciences, especially in the Kabbalah. By means of this art he could bring to life figures formed out of clay or carved from wood, who, like real men, would perform whatever task was asked of them. Such homemade servants are very valuable: they do not eat; they do not drink; and they do not require any wages. They work untiringly; one can scold them, and they do not answer back.

Rabbi Löw had fashioned for himself one such servant out of clay, placed in his mouth the Name (a magic formula), and thereby brought him to life. This artificial servant performed all of the menial tasks in the house throughout the week: chopping wood, carrying water, etc. On the Sabbath, however, he was required to rest; therefore, before [End Page 1] the day of rest had begun, his master removed from his mouth the Name and made him dead. Once, however, the rabbi forgot to do this, and calamity ensued. The magical servant became enraged, tore down houses, threw rocks all around, pulled up trees, and carried on horribly in the streets. People hurried to the rabbi to tell him of the situation. But the difficulty was great; the Sabbath was already at hand, and all labor—whether to create or to destroy—was strictly forbidden. How, then, to undo the magic? The rabbi’s dilemma with his Golem was like that of the sorcerer’s apprentice and his broom in Goethe’s poems. Fortunately, the Sabbath had not yet been consecrated in the Altneu synagogue, and since this is the oldest and most honorable synagogue in Prague, everything is set according to it. There was still time to remove the Name from the crazy youth. The master hurried, tore the magic formula from the mouth of the Golem, and the lump of clay dropped down and fell in a heap. Alarmed by this event, the rabbi did not wish to make such a dangerous servant again. Even today pieces of the Golem are to be seen in the attic of the Altneu synagogue.

Sippurim: Prager Sammlung Jüdischer Legenden (1847).¹

The oft-cited passage from the talmudic tractate Sanhedrin, many scholars have argued, constitutes the literary core of the Golem legend in Jewish culture, the tale of the artificial being created from earth and clay and brought to life through the miraculous combination of letters. ² The anecdote concerning Rava and his colleagues is embedded within a larger discussion, which sets forth permissible versus nonpermissible forms of magic. It is apparent from the tone of the story, as well as from the more explicit statements that follow, that the Talmud views the activities of the rabbis in question as perfectly acceptable. Righteousness, one might infer, involves more than moral perfection...