Introduction
There is a popular legend about a Jewish community in 16th century Prague that faced persecution. In order to defend them, Rabbi (R.) Judah Loew molds clay into the shape of a man, creating a “golem.” Through the use of Hebrew letters, the golem comes to life, and becomes the communal protector. While it does so successfully for a time, the Rabbi forgets to deactivate it on the Sabbath. The golem goes on a rampage, until it is found and turned back to clay by R. Loew. Its remains are still in the attic of the synagogue to this day. This folklorish tale has also found expression in popular culture through books, comics, film, television, and artwork.[1] But the golem is much older than the Prague legend, and it has been as malleable as the clay from which it was formed. Where does it come from? What animates it? What kind of “magic” is involved in its creation, and why would one seek to create a golem?
Was the golem-making ritual’s purpose to attain a mystical experience, to usher in the Messianic age, or to recreate and experience God’s creative moment? Was it for more nefarious purposes? Where have the conversations about the golem occurred? Scholars such as Gershom Scholem, Moshe Idel, Marla Segol, Peter Schäfer, Elizabeth R. Baer, and others have made major contributions to the conversation. Drawing on their work, it is pertinent to explore the golem-making rituals of the Sefer Yetzirah (hereafter SY), its 13th-14th century commentaries, and other sources. Given the influence on popular perception of the golem, its reception history and “reshaping” through 19th century legends will also be examined. This paper will argue that medieval golem-making rituals were an attempt to replicate the creative power of God, and harness it for one’s own purposes, effectively imitating (Imitatio Dei) and equaling divine power.
A Brief Review of Golem Scholarship
Where have scholarly conversations about the golem taken place, and where do they continue to appear? Aside from discussions of 19th century literature, golem scholarship is not popular, apart from a handful of articles and monographs. The majority of texts today deal with its portrayal in popular media, as a metaphor for technology and A.I., or as a post-Holocaust symbol.[2] Thus, the conversation has often taken place tangentially in articles or chapters, so it is important to note the contexts in which the golem appears. Notably, as golem-making rituals appeared in medieval Kabbalistic commentaries, most scholarly discussion of the golem occurs in the context of Jewish mysticism.
In 1955, Gershom Scholem presented his essay, “The Idea of a Golem.”[3] He examined rare manuscript references, and argued that its purpose in the medieval period was to attain a mystical experience and demonstrate the power of the Divine Name. As he had with Kabbalistic studies, Scholem brought scholarly respectability to the study of the golem, but his work has been improved upon and is no longer seen as the most authoritative. In 1985, Jarl E. Fossum, Professor of New Testament studies, briefly explored the golem’s creation to explain how the Divine Name is used in Jewish teaching.[4] His focus was on the history of the names of God and their ties to early Gnosticism, and his primary contribution was comparing golem creation to the Demiurge, who created “corporeal man,” but could not provide spiritual life.[5]
In 1990, Moshe Idel, historian of Jewish mysticism, greatly expanded on the work begun by Scholem, writing an entire monograph on the golem. He argued that its creation was an attempt by medieval practitioners at re-creating and attaining knowledge of God’s creative moment.[6] He also explored the stages of golem development in the ancient, medieval, Renaissance, Early-Modern and Modern periods. In contrast to Scholem, he argued that there was in fact a practical, experimental purpose for golem creation. In 1995, Peter Schäfer, Professor of Judaic Studies, outlined the broad history of golem rituals. He picked up on Scholem and Idel’s work, and tried to look at its earliest references.[7] His research focuses on Jewish mysticism, and his article was an attempt to determine when the idea of the golem as an artificial creature was concretely embedded in Jewish magic.
In 2012, Maria Segol, Professor of Jewish Thought, examined the role of letter combinations in golem creation by looking at SY commentaries and early diagrams.[8] She argued that its purpose was to usher in the Messianic period. This research appeared in her book on Medieval Kabbalah, and her research also focuses on Jewish magic. Also in 2012, Elizabeth Baer, Professor of English, explored sources of the Prague legend and compared the legendary and historical R. Loew. Her research focuses on literature and genocide, a field which the golem entered into post-World War II.[9] In 2013, Edan Dekel and David G. Gurley explored the golem’s history in late antique rabbinic literature, 19th century Jewish folklore, and sources not explored elsewhere in golem scholarship.[10] Both men focus on Jewish rabbinic and folkloric studies, and their article was part of that ongoing research. The perspectives of each author will be explored further throughout the paper.
Sketch of the Golem’s Early History
The creation of anthropomorphic creatures, homonculi, or artificial anthropoids, is not exclusive to the Jewish golem. Various rituals in antiquity were used in Egypt, China, Greece, and elsewhere to create living statues.[11] In the 1st century CE, Phaedrus’ De Veritas et Mendacio described the tale of Prometheus, who formed Veritas (Truth), a female anthropoid, out of clay. Dolus, his apprentice, copied the figure, but lacked material to finish, so it had no feet. Idel proposes that a similar story was known to “Palestinian Jewish masters.”[12] In the Bible, the word golem occurs once, in Psalm 139.16. The speaker[13] praises God for molding his “unformed substance” from the earth. Baer observes, “‘golem’ also implies the figure of man before he has acquired a soul.”[14] Scholem believes golem here simply meant “unformed, amorphous,” while other scholars argue the word means embryo.[15]
Another important factor in later golem stories is the power of creation. This creative ability was once attributed to the patriarch, Abraham. One 2nd century CE commentary on Genesis 12.15 mentions the possibility that Abraham could create souls.[16] According to Fossum, by this time, Abraham was “regarded as the prototype of the magician who fashions a golem through word and letter magic.”[17] Other golem parallels can be found in early Christian apocryphal literature. In some of the infancy gospels, young Jesus’ formed birds out of clay, and breathed life into them.[18] In the 4th century CE Pseudo-Clementines, Simon Magus boasted that he created a man out of air using “theurgic transformations… [and] reduced him to his element by 'undoing' the said transformations.”[19]
One passage in the Leviticus Rabbah (5th-7th century) contains elements used in later golem-making recipes.[20] The text describes the eight hours it took God to create Adam.[21] In the first, Adam forms in God’s thought. In the second, God discusses his creation with angels. In the third, God collects dust, and kneads him in the fourth. In the fifth, he forms his limbs, in the sixth he is made a golem. In the seventh, God breathes a soul into him. In the eighth, God puts Adam in paradise. The collecting of dust, kneading it, forming the limbs, and transforming it, are all elements of later golem recipes. The difference is that Adam is given a soul, while the golem almost never receives a rational soul nor the power of speech.
Perhaps most influential for later golem stories is the Babylonian Talmud. In Sanhedrin 65b, a pietist named Rava says that those who are holy enough could create their own world.[22] Then, “Rava created a man and sent him to R. Zera… [who] spoke to him but he did not answer. Thereupon he said to him: You are from the fellows… return to your dust!”[23] The story continues with two other rabbis, Hanina and Oshaya, who “spent every Sabbath eve in studying the instructions concerning creation, and a calf one third of the natural size was created by them, and they ate it.”[24] The understanding that God’s creative act could be repeated by magic finds its origin in this legend and its variations, according to Scholem.[25] Baer observes that even the calf’s creation shows the power to create life.[26] Idel views Rava’s act as a test of his religious perfection. By creating a being similar to Adam, this shows Rava “that there are no iniquities which separate him from God.”[27] Here, the golem’s creation is seen as a litmus test for holiness. But the creation of both the man and calf raised the moral question: should God’s creation of humanity be repeated for our personal benefit?
In a tradition from Late Antiquity, Enosh was asked to show how God created his grandfather Adam. So he mixed together dust and water, formed it into the shape of a man, and blew in its nostrils. However, an evil spirit entered it, and people worshiped it as a deity.[28] Since it was not God’s spirit, this creation is viewed as a negative act that became a vehicle for sin. But this did not stop attempted golem creation. Jewish esoteric movements during the Crusades sought the same power attributed to men like Abraham and Rava.[29] By the end of the 12th century, “golem” appears in several texts as a being produced by ritual acts. By that time, Scholem argues, its creation became “a mystical ritual of initiation… designed to confirm the adept in his mastery over secret knowledge.”[30] The most important medieval Jewish text in this discussion is the Sefer Yetzirah (SY), also known as the Book of Creation/Formation.
The Sefer Yetzirah and its Commentaries
The SY is an ancient Jewish text of uncertain provenance, describing astronomico-astrological and anatomical matters. It discusses the construction of the universe by 22 letters, each one governing part of a human or the larger world.[31] It is also seen as a manual for ritual magic. The SY gained authority through its pseudepigraphic claim that it was authored by Abraham.[32] Its dating is highly debated, with some scholars preferring a 3rd-6th century CE date,[33] while other argue for a date close to the 10th century.[34] Though golem creation is not explicit in the text, several of its formulas are directly used in medieval rituals (SY 19, 61).[35] These recipes required clay, dust, or soil, and letter combinations are recited to animate the golem. The letters were called Shem, Divine Names, either inscribed on the golem’s forehead or written on paper inserted into the golem’s mouth.
Certainly, these SY formulas played a key role in golem creation, and discussions about the rituals/recipes are more explicit in the 12th-14th century commentaries on the SY.[36] Idel divides these sources into two categories: those that describe the golem’s nature, but lack focus on ritual creation, and the second that discusses the ritual but may not discuss its nature.[37] Of these, R. Eleazar of Worms (1165-1230) provides the most precise instructions.[38] He was a scholar of Ashkenazi Hasidism, a 12th-13th century German pietistic movement.[39]
In his Sefer Tagi, R. Eleazar states that two or three ritual practitioners must take “virginal mountain earth, knead it in running water, and form a golem from it. Over this figure they recite the combinations of the alphabet derived from the 'gates' of the [SY].”[40] This influenced an apocryphal story about Judah ben Barzilai, who had also written a commentary.[41] The story says Barzilai and his students meditated on the SY for three years, until they knew how to create a world. Several versions compare them to the earlier Rava and R. Zera, who had created a man and calf. Others add, that the figures of Jeremiah and Ben Sira also meditated on the SY for three years and created a man.[42]
In a departure from other golem legends, one 13th century version says that Ben Sira and Jeremiah created a golem, and then it speaks to them. He informs the pair that when God wanted Adam to die, he erased the aleph from emeth and it became meth. The golem added, “That is what you should do with me and not create another man, lest the world succumb to idolatry as in the days of Enosh.”[43] He instructs them to reverse the letter combinations and remove the aleph. After they did so, he crumbled to dust. Other variations of the story appeared in the 12th-13th centuries.[44] Scholem believed this was “an act of creation by the adept and culminating in ecstasy… the legend was transformed into a mystical experience.”[45]
The Northern French 12th century Pseudo-Sa’adya commentary goes further than most others,[46] saying that the “recitation of the alphabets of the [SY] has the God-given power to produce such a creature and to give it vitality… and soul.”[47] Whether it could speak as in the Jeremiah-Ben Sira cycle is unclear. Here, the golem is buried before the letters are permutated.[48] Idel notes that Psalm 139 and its potential embryonic connotations “must have been influential on the device whereby the Golem is buried in order to enable it to emerge as a more advanced form of being.”[49] In Idel’s view, the earth serves as the womb, and the post-burial ritual focuses on the golem’s emergence and extraction from the earth, and only after is it animated. Overall, the SY and its commentaries shaped medieval versions of the creation of an artificial being.
The Golem-Making Rituals and Recipes
Were these rituals actually performed? Idel argues that the “the magical technique is not devoid of an experimental facet,” and seems to take the ritual descriptions at face value.[50] What did they consist of? Most medieval golem recipes mixed dust and water to form clay, which was shaped into a human, and letter combinations were uttered over the figure.[51] While each recipe differs, they generally shared these steps. Animation was accomplished through recitation of letter combinations and a ritual dance, usually concurrently. The combinations were either the 22 Hebrew letters or the Tetragrammaton.[52] This is rooted in the notion that divine names are the souls of each letter (SY 15).[53] In the makhol (ritual dance), the practitioner circumambulated around the golem an assigned amount of times while reciting letters. Thus, the golem was formed first, then animated through the alphabetic repetition and ritual performance.
One ritual is described in R. Eleazar’s 13th century commentary. According to Schäfer, Eleazar’s ritual is the “first unquestionable evidence of the creation of a golem in the sense of an artificial creature by means of the procedure described in [SY].” Eleazar’s instructions say that 2-3 practitioners must purify themselves and dress in white.[54] Then, they must take virgin soil from an unploughed portion of the mountains, knead it with water, and “begin to permutate… the alphabets of 221 gates, each limb separately,” with the corresponding letter from the SY.[55] He continues, “permutate with the vowel א: אַ, אֵ, אִ, אָ, אְ and always the letter of the [Divine] name… with them, and all the alphabet… afterwards יאַ, then יאִ, then יאֻ, and יאְ, then וא, and similarly; הא in its entirety… [then] appoint ב and likewise נ, and each limb with the letter designated to it.”[56]
Schäfer sees Eleazar’s ritual as three stages: a preparatory ritual, formation of the body from dust, and the letter permutations. He adds that ritual purification and white clothes are both known in magical circles.[57] What this purification entailed is unknown, though Schäfer speculates that as in Merkabah mysticism, it may have involved fasting, abstinence from meat, garlic, onions, or wine, as well as sexual abstinence, and ritual bathing.[58] As noted, the Pseudo-Sa'adya ritual adds the burial step. It also instructs the practitioner to draw a circle, then circumambulate while reciting letter combinations.[59] If one wished to deconstruct it, they must walk backwards while reciting the letters, and the golem would sink into the ground and die.[60] These are serious ritual performances driven by the desire to harness and replicate the power of creation.
Why create a Golem?
At this point, it is helpful to return to the question of purpose. What would motivate someone to attempt such a feat? While in some cases the intention is provided, such as Rava’s holiness self-test, the rituals are typically presented without discussion of purpose. As noted, Scholem believes its creation was meant to attain an ecstatic mystical experience.[61] For him, it was not created for anything other than to demonstrate the power of the Divine Name.[62] Idel argues that creating the golem was humanity’s attempt to experience God’s creative moment, and to know God by that art.[63] In his view, its creation achieves this experience as God formed humanity “in a similar way to that found in the recipes used by the mystics and magicians.”[64] Segol contends that its goal is theological, to usher in the Messianic age.[65]
Segol also sees the golem in totemic terms, given its nature as an inscribed “thing.”[66] She argues that the golem’s creation was motivated by a desire to change the structures of its maker’s lives. That is, it “was intended to animate dead bodies, repair constellations, stop time, and eliminate the social.”[67] While the Talmud once painted anthropoid-creation as a test of righteousness, the broader motivation throughout its history stems from a desire to be closer to God. But as Scholem observes, one “who creates a golem is in some sense competing with God's creation of Adam… [it is] emulation or antagonism, with the creative power of God.”[68] At times, the golem has also taken on a utilitarian role.[69] Solomon ibn Gabirol (1020-1057) allegedly created a female golem to assist with chores.[70] This role as servant, or even as protector, also finds expression in later legends.
Later Legends of the Golem
By the Early Modern period, the golem began a gradual shift toward folklore and away from ritual practice. But this shift was not complete. In 1614, Samuel Friedrich Brenz reported that some Jews had a “magical device 'which is called Hamor Golim,'” used to create a golem.[71] The next year, Zalman Sevi responded to Brenz, noting that there were still some Palestinian sages who could do this by using the SY, but none in Germany. Yet ten years later, Joseph Delmedigo wrote, “many legends of this sort are current, particularly in Germany.”[72] There is also a story reported in the Siphra De Zeniuth about the late 18th century R. Elijah (“Gaon of Vilna”). Elijah told his student that when he was thirteen years-old, he began to create a golem, but was given a sign from heaven to cease because of his young age.[73] The golem as a legendary figure gained momentum through the story of the golem of Chelm.
This story originated in a 1674 letter by Christoph Arnold.[74] It was created by Polish Jews who said prayers and observed fast days, and when the Shem was recited over it, it came to life.[75] It was used to do housework, and like earlier golems, on its forehead was written emeth. When it grew too large, the emeth was changed to meth.[76] Arnold also mentioned R. Elijah Baal Shem (d. 1583), whose golem grew so large, he could not reach its forehead. The rabbi asked it to take off his boots, and while it was bent over, he erased the letters. But when the golem crumbled, it fell and crushed the rabbi.[77] This story was repeated in a 1714 book by Johann Jakob Schudt,[78] which was then used by Jakob Grimm in 1808, in the Zeitung Für Einsiedler (Journal for Hermits). Grimm did not acknowledge prior discussions, rituals, or literature about the golem. By omitting these, he created the false impression that he was presenting a contemporary story which he had collected.
Rabbi Loew and the Golem of Prague
Since the mid-17th century, the legend focused on R. Elijah, but by the early 19th century, it shifted to R. Judah Loew (1520-1609), also known as the Maharal (teacher).[79] The earliest known writing that linked Loew with the golem was a 1841 Prague journal, Panorama des Universums.[80] Its author, Franz Klutschak, was a non-Jewish journalist and folklorist.[81] Six years later, his colleague Leopold Weisel published Der Golem (1847), a collection of Jewish tales about Prague.[82] This tale became the standard for several decades. While Weisel tied golem-making to Loew’s expertise in Kabbalah, the historical R. Loew was not affiliated with Kabbalah.[83] Weisel’s story is set in 1580 during the reign of the Emperor Rudolph II. Loew created the golem to protect his community. They were threatened with expulsion due to Christian accusations of blood libel. Loew formed it out of clay near the local river, laid the written Shem in its mouth, and it came to life.
The Rabbi’s golem also performed tasks as a servant, including chopping wood, sweeping streets, carrying water, and others.[84] He had to rest on the Sabbath, so Loew would remove the Shem from his mouth before the day arrived.[85] But on one occasion, he forgot to do this, so the golem became enraged and tore up the city. The townspeople notified Loew, but as it was the Sabbath, all work was prohibited.[86] However, the synagogue had not yet ushered in the Sabbath, so Loew cornered it there and removed the Shem, causing the golem to crumble to pieces. The story ends, “Terrified… the rabbi no longer wanted to make such a dangerous servant. Even today, pieces of the Golem can be seen in the attic of the Altneu-Synagogue.”[87] This legend influenced most modern portrayals, depicting the golem as either a defender of the people, as an enraged monster, or a secret and esoteric creation by learned elite.[88]
Summary and Conclusions
From antiquity to modernity, the malleable figure of the golem has taken on many forms. As Baer observes, it has morphed “to address issues of [each] era… to glory in the story of human creativity, and to honor Jewish tradition. What emerges is a plurality of golems, a multiplicity of tropes, which provide a rich clay from which reimagined golems will awaken.”[89] It saw expression in a biblical psalm, found growth in Talmudic, apocryphal, and rabbinic sources, was molded into ritual throughout the medieval period, and in modern-day folklore. It has ironically become a figurative Frankenstein’s monster, cobbled together from many different traditions. Its purpose has also changed over time: as a litmus test of holiness, a mystical initiation experience, as a spark for the messianic age, and as a servant or communal protector. As a medieval ritual, it was used to replicate God’s creative power. Regardless of the shapes it has taken, there is little doubt the golem will continue to fascinate and animate new questions and discussions.
Endnotes
* This paper was written in Fall 2021 for a course on Magic, Demonology, and Witchcraft in the Middle Ages. It is preserved here as it was originally submitted.
[1] In visual media alone it has appeared in silent films (1915-1920), a Czechoslovakian film (1951), a television film (1967), and in episodes of The X-Files (1997), The Simpsons (2006), Supernatural (2013), Sleepy Hollow (2013), Grimm (2014), and others.
[2] Gila Aloni, “From Medieval to Pop Culture: An Old-World New Text, the Golem of Prague—A Traveling Monster/Hero”, South Atlantic Review 81, no. 1 (2016): 174-93.
[3] Gershom Scholem, On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism (New York: Schocken Books, 1969, 158-204.).; Though presented in 1955, it was later included as this book’s fifth chapter.
[4] Jarl E. Fossum, The Name of God and the Angel of the Lord: Samaritan and Jewish Concepts of Intermediation and the Origin of Gnosticism, Wissenschaftliche Untersuchungen Zum Neuen Testament; 36 (Tübingen: Mohr, 1985).
[5] Ibid., 242.
[6] Moshe Idel, Golem: Jewish Magical and Mystical Traditions on the Artificial Anthropoid, SUNY Series in Judaica: Hermeneutics, Mysticism, and Religion (Albany: State University of New York Press, 1990).
[7] Peter Schäfer, “The Magic of the Golem: The Early Development of the Golem Legend”, Journal of Jewish Studies 46, no. 1-2 (1995): 249-61.
[8] Marla Segol, Word and Image in Medieval Kabbalah: The Texts, Commentaries, and Diagrams of The Sefer Yetsirah (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012).
[9] Elizabeth R. Baer, The Golem Redux: From Prague to Post-Holocaust Fiction (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 2012).
[10] Edan Dekel, and David Gantt Gurley, “How the Golem Came to Prague” (The Jewish Quarterly Review 103, no. 2, 2013): 241-58.
[11] Idel, Golem, 3.; Eli Yassif, “Golem” in Encyclopedia of Jewish Folklore and Traditions, ed. Raphael Patai, Haya Bar-Itzhak (Armonk, NY: Sharpe, 2013.), 209-210.; See Revelation 13.15, for example.
[12] Idel, 5.
[13] Talmudic sources view this psalm as Adam’s words (Ibid., 38.).
[14] Baer, The Golem Redux, 17.
[15] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 161.; Schäfer 250-251 concludes that “the translation 'embryo' probably comes closest to the meaning of golem here” (250).
[16] Ibid., 171, quoting Genesis Rabbah XXXIX.14.
[17] Fossum, The Name of God, 244.
[18] Primarily in the Infancy Gospel of Thomas 2 (2nd century), Arabic Infancy Gospel (6th century), and later the Qur’an (Sūra 3.46, 19.29; 7th century). It also appears in the medieval Jewish Toledoth Yeshu. In it, Jesus creates birds of clay, and animates them by uttering God’s name God over them. The primary difference between this creation and that of rabbinic masters is that in the Christian texts, Jesus’ animation of the birds is seen as an act of his own divine power.
[19] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 172-173.
[20] Idel, Golem, 34.
[21] Yassif, “Golem”, 209.; Midrash Genesis Rabbah 24.2 and b. Sanhedrin 38b give 12 hours.
[22] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 165.
[23] Schäfer, “The Magic of the Golem”, 252-253.; Notably, “Even the expression, ‘Rava created a man,’ has mystical connotations. In the original, it is RaBhA BaRA GaBhRA.… this expression is reminiscent of the word Abracadabra… which literally means, ‘I will create as I speak’” (Aryeh Kaplan, Sefer Yetzirah The Book of Creation In Theory and Practice (Boston, MA: Weiser Books, 1997.), xxi.).
[24] Ibid.; Aloni sees a connection between the golem and the golden calf created by the Israelites in the wilderness, both forbidden totems (Aloni, “From Medieval to Pop Culture”, 176.).
[25] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 165.; Yassif, “Golem”, 210.
[26] Baer, The Golem Redux, 18.
[27] Idel, Golem, 28.
[28] Yassif, “Golem”, 209.; This Enosh story was seen as an etiology for idolatry (Ibid).
[29] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 173.
[30] Ibid., 174.
[31] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 168-169.; The notion that letters of the alphabet were the basis of creation occurs throughout Jewish mystical writings, such as the 3rd-4th century Pistis Sophia, the 6th century Hekaloth Rabbati, and 3 Enoch, a 5th-6th century text (Fossum, The Name of God, 245-248).
[32] Ibid., 170.; For example, the introductory colophon of an 10th century manuscript begins, “This is the book of the Letters of Abraham our father… and when one gazes (tzafah) into it, there is no limit to his wisdom” (Kaplan, Sefer Yetzirah, x). Around the same time, Saadia Gaon wrote, “the ancients say that Abraham wrote it,” and the Zohar as well as Raziel attribute the text to Abraham, along with other old manuscripts (Ibid, xii.).
[33] Ibid., 167.
[34] Schäfer 255.
[35] Idel, Golem, 9.
[36] Segol, Word and Image, 105.
[37] Idel, Golem, xxvii-xxviii.; The Pe'ulat ha-Yezirah is the most elaborate text on the matter, but is not printed in full, though its influence is found as late as the Renaissance period (Ibid). Another significant version preserved is by R. Abraham Galante, probably of Ashkenazi origin (Ibid).
[38] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 184.
[39] Schäfer, “The Magic of the Golem”, 260.
[40] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 185.
[41] Ibid., 175.; In the 12th century, R. Barzilai wrote about the creation of a world through the study of the SY by Shem (son of Noah) and Abraham, though they do not create a golem (Schäfer, “The Magic of the Golem”, 258.).
[42] Ibid., 176.
[43] Ibid., 179.
[44] Ibid., 175-180.
[45] Ibid., 184.; This is certainly plausible, as one 13th century commentary notes that students of the SY also received a copy of the Sefer Raziel, a magical text that contained figures, seals, incantations, voces magicae, and divine names, perhaps used for mystical rites (Kaplan, Sefer Yetzirah, xi.).
[46] Idel, Golem, xxvii-xxviii.
[47] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 192.
[48] Idel, Golem, 86.
[49] Ibid.
[50] Ibid., xxvi.
[51] Ibid., xxviii.
[52] Segol, Word and Image, 106.
[53] Ibid.
[54] Schäfer, “The Magic of the Golem”, 259.
[55] Ibid..
[56] Ibid..
[57] Ibid., 259-260.; Prescriptions for ritual purity can also be found among the Greek magical papyri, particularly PGM IV. This includes the Hebraic charm of PGM IV.3007-86, “for those possessed by daimons”. Others refer to seven days of purity before the spell, in one case, “7 days before the moon becomes full by abstaining from meat and uncooked food…” (IV.52-85; cf. IV.26). The Charm of Solomon refers to sexual abstinence for three days prior to a ritual (IV.850-929). Another charm says, “Purify yourself / from everything three days in advance…” (IV.1099).; see The Greek Magical Papyri in Translation Including the Demotic Spells, ed. Hans Dieter Betz (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 1986). Ritual purity also features in Sefer ha-Razim, and white clothes are prominent in the Sefer ha-Malbush.
[58] Ibid., 260.
[59] Ibid.
[60] Ibid.
[61] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 158-204.
[62] Ibid., 190.
[63] Idel, Golem, xxvii.; Idel also raises the question of who else besides the elite may have been drawing on these rituals, but does not explore it (xxv.).
[64] Ibid., xxvii.
[65] Segol, Word and Image, 110.; For example, Abraham Abulafia’s 13th century Hayyei Olam haBa discusses the golem’s creation in messianic terms.
[66] Ibid., 106.
[67] Ibid., 139.
[68] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 169.
[69] Baer, The Golem Redux, 20.
[70] Ibid. Gabriol created his golem from wood and hinges, and was accused of using it for “lewd activities” by authorities, so he took it apart (Ibid). R. Eleazar is also said to have create both a male and female golem, and Cynthia Ozick describes a female golem in The Puttermesser Papers. (Ibid.).
[71] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 199.; Fossum, The Name of God, 242-243.
[72] Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 85.
[73] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 203.; One version preserved in a collection of Yiddish Folktales notes that the rabbi created him out of sand, clay, and water, and wrote down the Divine Name on a piece of paper, and placed it in the golem’s ear, which animated it. It was used to catch fish for the community, could drift through the air and jump from roof to roof, extinguish Sabbath candles (as it was not a living being and did not need to observe the Sabbath, a contrast to the Prague legend), and would defend the faithful. Eventually the rabbi decided to dismantle it, and removed the paper. The story says that if the golem is ever needed again, a new gaon could reanimate it, but, “It will be much better if we never have need of the golem again” (“Golem of Vilna” in Beatrice Weinreich and Leonard Wolf, Yiddish Folktales, (New York: Pantheon Books & Yivo Institute for Jewish Research, 1988.), 340-341.).
[74] Dekel & Gurley, “How the Golem Came to Prague”, 249-250.; Idel also references a lesser known document that he dates to the 1630s-1650s which mentions R. Elijah’s golem legend (Golem, 207).
[75] Baer, The Golem Redux, 21.
[76] Ibid..
[77] Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 200–201.
[78] Baer, The Golem Redux, 21.; Dekel & Gurley, “How the Golem Came to Prague”, 242-243.
[79] The story is taken up again in Berthold Auerbach’s Spinoza (1837), Gustav Philippson’s Der Golam, eine Legende (1841), Adam Tendlau’s Der Golem des Hoch-Rabbi-Löw (1842), etc. A parallel to the golem legend is also found in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818), contemporary with the growing Prague story. The Wondrous Deeds of the Maharal of Prague with the Golem (1909) by Yudl Rosenberg is also significant. Rosenberg claimed it was a 300 year old text written by Loew’s son-in-law R. Isaac Katz, and had been unearthed in the library of Metz. Rosenberg even included a Bill of Sale. However, his book has been shown to be a forgery, a pseudepigraphic text evidently used to further his acclaim (Baer, The Golem Redux, 28.).
[80] Baer, The Golem Redux, 26.; Some believe that the Prague legends actually began as local oral traditions of the Jewish community there, at a much earlier time (Yassif, “Golem”, 210.), while others found this unlikely (Scholem, On the Kabbalah, 202).
[81] Ibid.
[82] Ibid.; Dekel & Gurley, “How the Golem Came to Prague”, 245-246.
[83] Dekel & Gurley, “How the Golem Came to Prague”, 244.
[84] Ibid.
[85] Ibid..
[86] Ibid., 246.
[87] Ibid..; Aloni comments, “That the remains of the Golem of Prague are not buried in the ground but stored in the attic of the synagogue… allows an endless re-emergence, reconstruction, and deconstruction of the monster and the identity of this monster” (“From Medieval to Pop Culture”, 179.).; Over the years, some claimed to have seen its remains, and actually believed it had been created. But an 1883 attic renovation and visits by film crews in 1984 and 2014 yielded no evidence. The attic is also off-limits, fueling popular speculation; see N. Gruen, Der hohe Rabbi Loew (Prague, 1885), 39.; I. Mackerle, Tajemstvi prazskeho Golema, (Prague, 1992).
[88] Ibid., 252.; This is a tale “about rabbinic mastery of the holy word, a practice highly regarded as the patrimony of the scholarly elite” (Ibid).
[89] Baer, The Golem Redux, 35-36.
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