Wicked Witchcraft - Kedoshim - Mythic Torah

Welcome back to Mythic Torah, my regular article investigating monsters, heroes and gods in the weekly Torah reading. This week's reading is Kedoshim, the 7th reading of the book of Leviticus, that demands that the Israelites be holy, for God too is holy.

 

Those fingers in my hair
That sly come-hither stare
That strips my conscience bare
It's witchcraft
And I've got no defense for it
The heat is too intense for it
What good would common sense for it do?
'cause it's witchcraft, wicked witchcraft
And although I know it's strictly taboo
When you arouse the need in me
My heart says "Yes, indeed" in me
"Proceed with what you're leadin' me to"
It's such an ancient pitch
But one I wouldn't switch
'cause there's no nicer witch than you
-Frank Sinatra, Witchcraft

Sinatra's 1957 hit 'Witchcraft' encapsulates both the attraction and the revulsion that human culture has felt towards witches over the millennia - the magic strops away his conscience, removing any free will to resist the witch's seduction, yet at the same time his heart says "yes indeed", and he states that there is no "nicer witch".

This week's parasha of Kedoshim calls on the people of Israel to be holy, for God is holy, and contains ethical imperatives and sexual prohibitions. But spread throughout the parasha are 3 verses about magic: Lev 19:31, Lev 20:6, and 20:27 all contain prohibitions against what we might call witchcraft, or more accurately spiritualism or consulting with the spirits of the dead:

Tales of the Dreamscape - Treasure House - Part 1

The deepest cave in Dreamscape’s shifting land,
Beneath the wondrous home of Duke and consort,
Contains the greatest treasures that the world
Has ever known, or dreamt in midnight hours
When the moon is low, and the stars are free and twinkling
In the cloth of softest night and darkest sky.
Wherever gold has glittered, silver shone,
The cave of dreams is there, gently waiting -
And all your treasures are contained within
Where all desires begin.

And when the wind blows cold from northern climes
With diamond snow from Dreamscape’s farthest shores,
The proud and lordly Duke of Dreams trembles,
Seeks refuge in the cave of ancient trove,
Wandering winding ways among the gems,
That shift their forms as the dreamer lingering stares.
He finds a treasure never seen before,
Inspects it with his bright and piercing gaze -
The choicest prize your mind has deftly wrought,
Is there as solid thought.

Tales of the Dreamscape - Prophecy

    The night was unusually dark for the Dreamscape. The moon was obscured by a thick cloud and there was a hint of rain in the air. The land was bare and flat - even the crystal grass looked grey.
    A man loped through the darkness, stepping hurriedly over streams and stones. He pulled his coat close around himself and lowered the broad brim of his hat. A black patch hid his left eye completely but you could still see some scar tissue around the socket.
    Just as the first silver drop of rain struck the ground, the man reached the entrance to a cave. A fire burned in the hearth, shedding an orange glow into the night. The smell of cooking meat filled his nostrils.
    “Welcome stranger,” a woman’s voice lilted from the shadows at the back of the cave, “have you come to share my fire?”
    “Indeed I have,” said the man, “that is if I am welcome.”
    “All are welcome to share the flames.” The woman stepped forward wrapped in green from head to toe, her raven hair shining against the night. “But to share the meat there is a price.”
    “So I have heard,” the man replied, “and what is your price today?”
    “A game,” she answered, “a simple game of riddles.”
    The one-eyed man smiled to himself. “The only game worth playing. Who shall begin?”
    “I believe that that is my right,” the green woman answered. “And so I shall commence. What is your name stranger?”
    The stranger nodded, smiling quietly.

Radiance 24 - Slow to anger

    The phone rang, and rang.
    Eventually, Asher hung up, slid the phone back into his pocket, and sat down on the bonnet of the rented car (that Rahko had somehow hired for free after sharing some jokes with the owner).
    “She’s not answering,” he told Rahko.
    “Maybe she’s out?”
    “Maybe,” Asher acknowledged. Your mother’s on a long journey, Dad had said, and that Asher would see her again before the end. Odd indeed, as his mother wasn’t exactly into travelling, especially long distances. She had yet to visit him in New York, though she often spoke about it as a plan for ‘next year’ or ‘next springtime’.
    Rahko put a hand on his shoulder, gave him the briefest of hugs. “I’m sure she’s okay,” he said, “Emma can look after herself.”
    Asher smiled, “Yeah, I know. It just seems weird to be here without seeing her.”
    “Well, once we rescue our companions and smash the sitra achra, we’ll come back and take her out for tea,” Rahko said smiling.
    “Sounds great,” said Asher, wanting to believe it would all be so simple. Since the fight with the dybbuk everything seemed to be slipping through his fingers, drifting away like clay dust in the breeze. “So this is where you last saw them?” Asher asked.
    Rahko nodded. They were standing between the falafel place and the scribe’s shop on the streets of Netanya, with only the faintest hint of a sea breeze to alleviate the overwhelming waves of heat and humidity.
    “I guess we follow them,” Asher said, feeling bursts of unease exploding in his stomach.
    “Be ready for anything,” said Rahko, as a ball of spinning ice materialised in his right palm.

Radiance 13 - You sit upon Scorpions

Today we begin the fourth section of Radiance - Netzach/Victory. In case you're wondering, Hod was indeed only 2 chapters long as is Netzach. I hope to write a Behind the Scenes to explain why I've made that decision. In the mean time, enjoy the latest chapter of Radiance:
 

6] And you, Son of man, do not fear them, and their words do not fear - though thistles and thorns press against you and you sit upon scorpions; do not be afraid of their words and do not be dismayed by them, though they are a rebellious house. 7] But speak My words to them, whether they listen or not, for they are rebellious.
8] And you, Son of man, hear what I say to you: do not be rebellious like that rebellious house; open your mouth and eat what I am giving you. 9] As I looked, there was a hand stretched out to me, holding a scroll of a book. 10] He unrolled it before me, and it was inscribed on both the front and the back; on it were written lamentations, dirges and woes.    -Ezekiel, Chapter 2

    “Asher Grunfeld! What are you doing?” Mrs Blackstone thundered across the classroom, peering over the rims of her thin grey spectacles, pursing her lips like a raisin. She stopped writing the Hebrew letters she had been tracing on the board, still holding the chalk.
    Asher froze in horror. His right hand remained outstretched and unmoving, still holding the tiny slip of paper that held the damning note he had just written. And somehow, he could not pull his hand back - could not speak - or move at all. With grim horror, he watched Mrs Blackstone turn around from the blackboard and march down the row of desks towards him. All eyes turned towards him now, fifteen small children fixating upon him.
    “Drop it” hissed one of them, Big Jonny behind him, but his arm muscles refused to work.
    “What is the meaning of this?” she barked, snapping the note out of his hand.
    Asher felt all the blood and life draining from his face. Had he been able to see a mirror, he was certain that he would have seen the reflection of a ghost or spirit; hands shaking, heart sinking into the depths of his stomach.
    Mrs Blackstone read the note. She said nothing. Turning back to her desk, she folded the paper carefully and placed it in her pocket, walking slowly back to the front of the classroom.
    Shame like he had never known before burned into Asher’s ears, burrowed and gnawed at his bowels; a shame so deep he had no name for it, so all-consuming it drove all other thought from his mind.
    Please don’t read it out, he whispered inside his head, not certain if he said it aloud or not. Please don’t read it. Perhaps he was praying.
    Mrs Blackstone reached her rickety wooden desk, strewn with papers, adjusted the grey sack of a dress she wore, and sat down. She took Asher’s note and put it down in front of her.
    Please don’t, please don’t, please don’t.
    A black grin spread over her face, a vile, skeletal, thing like nothing Asher had ever seen. Black and dripping.

Radiance 11 - A spirit entered me

Today begins the third section of Radiance - Hod, meaning Splendour. If you missed it, check out the summary of part 2 and its corresponding behind the scenes.

Real life is catching up with me and so I may need to take a week off from posting Radiance in the near future so I can actually write some more. But have no fear, for some content is sure to be posted next Monday as normal, even if it isn't directly related to Radiance.

1] And He said to me ‘Son of man, stand on your legs that I may speak to you.’
2] As He spoke to me, a spirit entered me and set me upon my legs and I heard what was spoken to me.
3] He said to me ‘Son of man, I am sending you to the people of Israel, that nation of rebels who have rebelled against Me - they as well as their fathers have defied Me to this very day. 
4] For the sons are brazen of face and stubborn of heart - I send you to them, and you shall say to them: ‘Thus said the Lord God’. 

5] Whether they listen or not - for they are a rebellious house - they shall know that there was a prophet among them.
    -Ezekiel, Chapter 2

    New Yorkers really are an amazing breed, Asher couldn’t help thinking as he struggled to keep his footing while parrying lightning-fast claws. Anywhere else in the world they would probably be running screaming, or calling the police - even the army - when two strange figures attack a random person with sticks. Anywhere else it would be a major event.
    In New York they just assume it’s a flashmob, Asher thought miserably to himself as he stumbled backwards.

Radiance 1 - I slept but my heart was awake

2 I slept but my heart was awake. Listen! My beloved is knocking:
“Open to me, my sister, my darling, my dove, my flawless one.
My head is drenched with dew, my hair with the dampness of the night.”
3 I have taken off my robe— must I put it on again?
I have washed my feet— must I soil them again?
4 My beloved thrust his hand through the latch-opening; my heart began to pound for him.
5 I arose to open for my beloved, and my hands dripped with myrrh,
my fingers with flowing myrrh, on the handles of the bolt.
6 I opened for my beloved, but my beloved had left... he was gone.
    -The Song of Songs, Chapter 5

1st Av 5775 - I slept but my heart was awake
     Asher had been sitting in the bath for the better part of two hours when the knock came. The water had long since become tepid, his skin wrinkled as too much liquid passed the boundary of his skin. He watched the tap drip, slowly adding more and more water to the tub.
    The knock came again.
    Deep down, Asher knew that he should get out of the bath and answer the door. Put on his bath robe, brush his teeth, and go to bed. He should get up tomorrow morning bright and early, shave, get some fresh coffee and apply for a new job. And he should start this moment by getting up, and opening the door.
    But he didn’t. His body refused to respond to the signals he was sure his brain was sending.
    Come on, you lazy shit! Get out of the bath. You hardly ever spoke to the guy. Just because he was your father. Get out the stupid, fucking bath and get on with your life.
    Asher didn’t move. He watched a ripple of water extend from his big toe, protruding above the surface of the water. Tiny breakers ebbing and flowing, intersecting and dividing each other.
    The news had come earlier that night, a hurried email from his mother in Netanya - “Your father is dead, don’t know how. I’m flying out to London to deal with it. Call you ASAP. Lots of love, Mum.” And that was it.
    He began to hum a melody to himself “The water flows, the tide goes but no one knows, oh oh oh, no one knows...” Asher hummed a few experimental bars and then forget them.
    Another knock, louder this time, even more insistent.
    Still Asher did not rise. There simply was no point. It was probably the super of the building wanting to adjust the radiators or inspect the apartment or just make sure that Asher was still alive. No one else ever knocked. It could wait.
    He looked at his watch that he’d left on the floor beside him. It was five to three in the morning. It was unlike the super to come by so late. Well, he has my number, Asher thought. He’ll call me if it’s really important.
    After five minutes of silence, when the knock did not return, Asher relaxed. Nothing to worry about.

    And then a massive hole was torn out of the wall.