The Tintinnabulation of the Bells

March 6, 2009
Rabbi Seymour Rossel

     There is a well-known story about the British fellow who used to toss sand in his path, so that wherever he walked, he left behind a little trail of sand. A scholar caught up with him one day and said, "My dear fellow, why do you go about tossing sand everywhere you go?" The man answered, "I toss the sand to keep the tigers away."

     The scholar shook his head and said, "My dear fellow, don't you know that there are no tigers in Great Britain?" The man answered, "Really? I had no idea that my method was that successful."

     Since the beginning of time, we human beings have been mystified by many things that we just cannot explain. Why is it that we have good harvests in some years and see our harvests spoiled by ice and rain in other years? Why is that ten thousand people can go from Jerusalem to Ein Gedi in safety, and one person is attacked and eaten by a lion? Why is it that one woman has many children while her sister remains barren? Why is it that hundreds of babies thrive and grow into men and women, while one baby that is apparently healthy suddenly dies in its crib at night? Why is it that most people remain safe in thunderstorms, but a person who was once struck by a lightning bolt and survived is struck again by a lightning bolt and dies?

     Fear of being unlucky, of being the victim of some unforeseen accident, has always driven superstition. No matter what calamity befalls people, they always declaim, "Why me, O God? Why me?" And the answer often comes as: "A black cat crossed your path just before this happened." "You broke a mirror and this is just the beginning of seven years of bad fortune." "You walked under a ladder and now you are bound to suffer setbacks." Or, even worse, "You must have sinned in some way to bring this upon yourself."

     In ancient and medieval times, and somewhat in the present, too, people found comfort in blaming demons for their troubles. The demons came in many forms, just as many as the misfortunes that they caused. And believing in the One God did not mean that demons did not exist.

     Looking back at Creation, the rabbis noticed that God first created a man and a woman in the Garden of Eden, then God saw that Adam was alone and took a rib bone to create a woman named Eve who would be his companion. But, if this was so, they reasoned, who was the first woman that God created and what became of her? Jewish folklore calls this first woman Lilith and tells us that, from the very start, Lilith and Adam quarreled and disagreed on everything. Finally, Lilith uttered God's four-letter name and she was transported to a cave where she would cohabit with demons every night, giving birth to new demons every night. Three angels were sent by God to coerce her to return to Adam, but she told the angels that she had been born to kill babies, boys up to the eighth day and girls up to the twentieth day. No matter how much the angels urged her to return to Adam, she refused. But finally, she offered a compromise, saying that, if they would leave her alone, she would never attack a baby in a home where there was an amulet with the name of the three angels on it. Amulets with this special formula are continuously found by archaeologists, some dating as far back as 1500 years; and, even today, among the ultra-Orthodox this same amulet is being used in homes where there is a newborn child. For all I know, you can probably order them online from Amazon.com.

     It is said that every day a hundred of Lilith's child-demons die, but that leaves untold thousands of demons to haunt Jewish homes. There are demons who specialize in seducing wives and others that specialize in seducing husbands. Many demons are blood suckers, some who will suck the blood of goats at night so that they will not be able to give milk the next day, and some who will just devour the lifeblood of a full-grown man or woman. Some demons are merely mischievous: Demons named gaggit, from the Hebrew word for "roof," specialize in annoying sleepers by knocking on the roof all night. Others specialize in keeping bridegrooms from breaking the glass at end of weddings or causing brides to trip on the way to the huppah.

     How to keep the demons away? Of course, there are special psalms that you can recite. The Talmud relies on Psalm 3 as the best one to chase away demons, but the medieval mystic Eleazar Rokeach said that, even better, is Psalm 91 which should always be recited beginning with the last verse of Psalm 90. You can also ask a rabbi to exorcise any demon that takes possession of your body. And rabbis through the ages have often specialized in writing protective amulets like the one against Lilith or special amulets that will help your child become a scholar or encourage your husband to love you or help you overcome barrenness or help you succeed in business. A rabbi who dispenses magical amulets has been called a Baal Shem, a "Master of [God's] Name," and one whose remedies are especially effective is sometimes called a Baal Shem Tov, "a "Really Good Master of [God's] Name."

     In this week's portion, it is commanded that the priest's violet robe should be adorned with a fringe of violet and purple and scarlet pomegranates, with a golden bell between each pair of pomegranates. The tinkling bells were to be heard both when he entered the holy place and when he left, lest he should die. Evidently, the chiming of the holy bells was used drive off any envious and wicked demons who lurked about the door of the sanctuary, ready to pounce on and carry off the richly appareled priest for it was a common belief, from the most ancient times, that demons and ghosts flee from the sound of metal. They are afraid of the musical jingle of little bells, the bellowing clang of great bells, the clash of cymbals, the booming of gongs, or even the clink and clank of bronze or iron plates knocked together or struck with hammers or sticks. Demons despise and fear metal noises.

     After a wedding, we try to insure that the newlyweds are protected by tying tin cans together and attaching them to the car or carriage. Among the Irish, there is a ritual called shivaree, in which the town gathers to make banging noises beneath the chamber where the bride and groom spend their first night. And so on.

     As we march the Torah through the sanctuary, it is adorned with little bells that remind us of the commandment to the priests to make ringing noises as they walk. So, to this very day, we still perform a ritual to drive away demons from the synagogue. And some scholars believe that all church bells began with this role, to drive away demons from the church.

     We like to think that we are modern and we have done away with superstition, and yet ... We are not so modern as to have escaped our roots. We may explain ancient rituals in new ways, but they still have an emotional impact on us. So today, we ring the bells, protecting the Torah, with modern explanations, but with ancient intents. When the Torah passes by you the next time, remember that poor fellow in Britain who thought that the sand chased away every tiger. The bells on the crown and ornaments of our Torah keep the demons far from us, too. And let us say: Amen.