in a manner that reveals how broad the gulf could be between Jewish and Christian views. The Devil, he argued, being “the ape of God,” is dedicated to incarnating himself in men, as did Christ himself.85 This, he suggested, accounts for the proliferation of possession since the birth of Christ.86 Catholic theologians of the sixteenth century also assumed that demonic possession was most likely to occur as a punishment for the sins of the possessed, whereas popular accounts most commonly portray victims of possession as “pious young Christians.” Is there a similar disparity between learned and popular views of this issue in Jewish culture? R. Moses Cordovero stated in his Drishot be-‘Inyanei ha-Malakhim (Inquiries Concerning Angels) that “the types of ‘ibbur depend on a man’s moral and spiritual state, whether his soul is entered by a good soul—because he has done a miẓvah—or an evil soul—because he has committed some sin….”87 Even though we have few sources that can directly provide a “popular” Jewish conception of the typical victim of spirit possession, we may be able to infer a disparity of this kind from the degree of inner confusion on this point displayed in Jewish sources. Early modern Jewish possession accounts shift inconsistently between affirmations of the innocence and even piety of the victim, and ascriptions of blame—often of the same person. When the exorcists in the Falcon case asked the spirit of Samuel Ẓarfati what allowed him to possess a “kosher” woman, he replied that the woman had inadvertently cast some mud upon him as he was hovering in her midst.88 In the case currently under consideration, we know that the most egregious sin of the spirit was sexual, but what of the widow? The sin that allows for the possession to take place seems not much less trivial, though “justifiable” on the basis of the positions staked out in the contemporary Jewish demonological literature. As Vital himself wrote in his treatise on transmigration, “it sometimes happens that notwithstanding the presence in a person of a pure and sublime soul, he may come at some point to anger. Then, [that soul] will depart from him, and in its place will enter another, inferior soul.”89 Before concluding his exorcism of the widow (and the woman in Case 7), Vital asks the spirit how he obtained permission to enter his victim’s body: “The spirit responded: ‘I spent one night in her house. At dawn, this woman arose from her bed and wanted to light a fire from the stone and iron, but the burnt rag did not catch the sparks. She persisted stubbornly, but did not succeed. She then became intensely angry, and cast the iron and the stone and the burnt rag—everything—from her hand to the ground, and angrily said, ‘to Satan with you!’ Immediately I was given permission to enter her body.’” What appears to us as a small matter, a casual curse out of frustration, was evidently taken quite seriously. This severe approach to cursing had its basis in the strict enforcement of the third commandment, and traditional Jewish law prescribed penalties for such verbal crimes that paralleled those meted out to witches and idolaters.90 Sixteenth-century Jews were not alone in regarding the consequences of cursing most gravely; many Christian tales of possession dealt with the consequences of the curse “the devil take you.”91 Maureen Flynn has recently noted that “blasphemy was the most frequently censured religious offence of the Spanish people in the early modern period, far outnumbering convictions on charges of Judaism, Lutheranism, Illuminism, sexual immorality or witchcraft.”92 J. P. Dedieu’s work has shown, moreover, that, as in the expression by the woman in the possession case under our consideration, the Spanish Inquisitors were concerned with “petty crimes … of the word … that never attained the status of formal heresy, much less of unbelief.”93 Concern over these types of verbal offenses, known in Spain as palabras, seems to have been particularly prevalent in the mid-sixteenth century. In addition to her angrily spoken words, the woman had thrown down the stone and rag in frustration. Such an act, like cursing, was traditionally considered an invitation to the demonic forces to act, as we read, for example, in zoharic passages.94 Nevertheless, according to our account, Vital could not accept the idea that a woman could be possessed for letting an ill-chosen word, rock, or rag slip on that cold morning. The spirit, for his part, was forthcoming with a more serious transgression that indeed justified his siege. Here, we return to the issue of skepticism; the curse was merely the outward expression of a deeper heretical posture.
“Know,” the spirit tells Vital, “that this woman’s inside is not like her outside.” Although she participated in the religious observances of Safed’s Jewish community, the widow had her doubts. “For she does not believe in the miracles that the Holy One, Blessed be He, did for Israel, and in particular in the Exodus from Egypt. Every Passover night, when all of Israel are rejoicing and good hearted, reciting the great Hallel95 and telling of the Exodus from Egypt, it is vanity in her eyes, a mockery and a farce. And she thinks in her heart that there was never a miracle such as this.” At this point, Vital turns his attention away from the spirit and focuses upon the widow.
Immediately the Rav said to the woman, “Do you believe with perfect belief that the Holy One, Blessed be He, is One and Unique, and that He created the heavens and the earth, and that He has the power and capacity to do anything that He desires, and that there is no one who can tell him what to do?” She responded to him and said, “Yes, I believe it all in perfect faith.” The Rav, may his memory be a blessing, further said to her, “Do you believe in perfect faith that the Holy One, blessed be He, took us out of Egypt from the house of slavery, and split the sea for us, and accomplished many miracles for us?” She responded, “Yes, master, I believe it all with perfect faith, and if I had at times a different view, I regret it.” And she began to cry.
This confrontation concluded, Vital speedily exorcises the spirit with little difficulty.96 Finally, in an epilogue that again raises the issue of the woman’s skepticism and religious identification with the traditional community, we are told that the spirit continued to threaten the woman after its exorcism from her body. Concerned, her relatives returned to Luria, and he again sent Vital as his emissary. This time, Vital was to check the integrity of the mezuzah of her home to ensure that she was adequately protected from evil. Upon inspection, however, Vital discovered that the woman did not even have a mezuzah on her doorpost!97 The mezuzah, a parchment-based phylactery based on Deuteronomy, Chapter 6, verse 9, was regarded as affording protection to those within the houses bearing them, the inscription on the outside of the parchment, ShD”I (“the Almighty”), being taken as an acrostic for “Keeper of the Doors of Israel.”98 Tradition also allowed for the possibility that the affixing of a mezuzah might even successfully exorcize one possessed in the house. An eighth-century collection of rabbinic literature, the Sheiltot,99 includes a version of a story from the Jerusalem Talmud, in which Rav’s affixing of a mezuzah on the door of the palace of the Artavan, last of the Parthian kings, sufficed to expel the evil spirit that possessed his daughter.100
Once again, then, we are confronted with an account that presents a possessed woman who, by virtue of her possession, is able to function as a type of clairvoyant figure in the community, providing “services” not far removed from those provided by figures such as Luria. She attracts many people and is able to discern their hidden sins and desires. Her visionary ability also results in a caustic encounter with Vital, which he recorded in his journal years later. Evident discomfort with aspects of this scenario is suggested by our comparison of the various versions of the account, the bowdlerization of unsavory details, and the heightening of didactic elements signifying later redactions of Vital’s original. Moreover, the spirit’s presence in the woman fulfills the functions considered above: his appearance before and among the living demonstrates the persistence of life after death, whereas his suffering dramatizes and embodies the doctrine of punishment for the wicked. Although there is little that suggests a relationship between the spirit and the widow, he is not unknown in the community and soon establishes himself as a former student of a leading rabbinic figure in Safed. Finally, the sins of the spirit, and those of the widow no less, by stark transgression, cast in bold relief the values and aspirations of the rabbinic writers who crafted the account, if not broader sectors of the cultural environment. Sexual licentiousness and popular skepticism emerge in this account, as in others we have examined, as fundamental threats to communal leadership struggling to establish a community on the basis of pietistic ideals.
In
