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Forsaken
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Sharon Faye Koren
Forsaken: The Menstruant in Medieval Jewish Mysticism
Nils Roemer
German City, Jewish Memory: The Story of Worms
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Untold Tales of the Hasidim: Crisis and Discontent in the History of Hasidism
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S h a ron Fay e Kor e n
Forsaken
The Menstruant in Medieval
Jewish Mysticism
Br andeis Univer sit y Pre ss

Waltham, Massachusetts
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Koren, Sharon Faye.

Forsaken : the menstruant in medieval Jewish mysticism / Sharon Faye
Koren.
p. cm.—(HBI series on Jewish women)
Includes bibliographical references and index.
isbn 978-1-58465-981-5 (cloth : alk. paper)—isbn 978-1-58465-982-2
(pbk. : alk. paper)—isbn 978-1-61168-022-5 (e-book)
1. Purity, Ritual—Judaism. 2. Menstruation—Religious aspects—
Judaism. 3. Mysticism—Judaism—History. 4. Judaism—History—
Medieval and early modern period, 425–1789. I. Title.
BM702.K663 2011
296.7′5—dc23 2011017167
The publication of this book was generously supported by the Lucius N.

Littauer Foundation.
For
Atara Malka,
Talia Ora,
& Tamar Ariel:
May you find no barriers

as you journey along the path.
contents
Foreword · xi
Acknowledgments · xv
Introduction · 1
Part I: Early Jewish Mysticism

1 From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple: Impurity in
Early Jewish Mysticism · 15
2 The Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 28
3 Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 43
Part II: Medieval Kabbalah
4 Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis in Theosophical
Kabbalah · 63
5 The Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 75
6 The Ontic Metamorphosis of the Menstruating
Shekhinah · 84
7 The Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 98
Part iii: Mysticism & Menstruation
in Islam & Christianity
8 Menstrual Impurity and Sufism · 127
9 Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 144
Conclusion · 172
Notes · 177
Bibliography · 237
Index · 277
Foreword
In this compelling new examination of Judaic mystical approaches to women’s

bodies and their functions, Sharon Faye Koren combines a mastery of rab-
binic source materials with the tools of contemporary theoretical analysis,
including gender theory. Her fresh approach reveals complex and often con-
tradictory dimensions of Jewish intellectual life. For example, puzzling over
the fact that Judaism—unlike Christianity and Islam—preserves few records
of female medieval mystics, Koren offers Foucault’s famous dictum that “cul-
ture determines what counts as truth or knowledge within that society.” What-
ever mystical experiences Jewish women may have had didn’t “count” in the
societies they lived in. Women lacked textual expertise, and also by definition
they did not inhabit the same world of study and behavioral obligation as
Jewish men. Women’s contributions were thus effectively ignored by Jewish
intellectual history, including intellectual mystical traditions. But while the
rabbinic mystical tradition largely ignored flesh-and-blood women and their
spiritual lives, the symbolic “female” became an object of fetishistic obsession.
Menstruation and niddah (a halakhic legal category that defines a twelve-
day period during which women are sexually off limits to their husbands), in
particular, were invested with a set of extraordinary symbolic meanings that
enabled mystic scholars “to continue to have access to the divine in a post-
Temple world,” Koren explains. She traces the notion of expelling in the lin-
guistic roots for the term niddah, and reviews anthropological analyses of
the “almost universal fear of menstrual blood.” During the actual Temple ob-
servances, both men and women were subject to impurity and isolation, and
were given the opportunity to purge their impurity through Temple rituals.
Post-Temple Judaism retained miqveh immersion for women after menstrua-
tion and a week of “clean” days (in some communities, this was true for male
ejaculation as well). Koren builds on Fonrobert’s insight about the difference
in language describing male and female “emissions”: the male is described as
expelling his issue from his body, while the woman is described as having
a discharge in her body. This perceived distinction—an interpretation that
exaggerates physiological differences—had profound halakhic and symbolic
valence. “Exterior” male impurity is understood as being ephemeral and hav-
ing limited duration, while “interior” female impurity bars women perma-
nently from mystical practice. Because a woman’s pollution is interior, even a
xi
postmenopausal woman remains tainted, and thus, in medieval Jewish think-
ing, unable to attain spiritual heights.
Koren traces the fascinating departure from talmudic literature, in which
“menstruants are prohibited only from performing domestic tasks that would
promote intimacy between husband and wife,” to the very different approach
within the Hekhalot literature and within Beraita d’Niddah. Both exacer-
bated separations between men and women, and assigned spiritual mean-
ings (often negative) to female reproductive physiology. As Koren explains,
mystics concerned with access to divine mysteries asserted: “When an adept
wishes to learn the name of God, he must avoid looking at menstruants.”
Convinced that the pure and impure realms must not mix, the Hekhalot au-
thors invested women’s menstruation with both moral and ritual impurity
that arguably had magical properties. The Hekhalot literature in general is en-
tirely androcentric. Koren comments: “It is as if we are entering a world where
wives do not exist.” The Beraita d’Niddah, a collection of materials dealing
with women and menstruation, departed from mainstream talmudic law by
isolating menstruating Jewish women from even the mitzvot (religious obliga-
tions) that are incumbent specifically upon women. Rabbinic law requires
women to fulfill many legal obligations in addition to the three “women’s”
mitzvot, stipulating that women must recite grace after meals and engage in
personal prayer no matter the time of the month. However, unlike talmudic
law, which requires women to continue all mitzvoth, such as praying, light-
ing candles, and “taking” challah, during and after menstruation, the Beraita
d’Niddah forbids these activities and promises dire consequences should
they occur. A menstruating woman “must not touch anything holy,” these
texts warn. Why? “Because she would be guilty and would make her house-
hold guilty.” In these texts, unlike the approach of mainstream rabbinic Juda-
ism, the very presence of the menstruating woman can pollute all around her.
Koren builds on the work of a broad array of important scholars to analyze
these spiritualistic texts, noting that they reject the sublimation of Temple
cult symbols that was typical of much rabbinic legal thinking. Instead, em-
phasizing cultic Temple practices and expanding their spiritual significance,
the Beraita d’Niddah insists “that the menstruant is anathema to both God
and man,” she writes, “and this is the understanding that is bequeathed to
medieval Europe.” Koren accordingly proceeds to examine the development
and elaboration of these ideas, by the German Pietists (twelfth and thirteenth
centuries) and later the medieval Spanish kabbalists, into a complex intellec-
xii · Foreword
tual system that assigned semiotic significance to women’s bodies. The Be-
raita d’Niddah became the foundational document that “legitimized Jewish
women’s exclusion from mystical practice,” influencing Ashkenazic commu-
nities to the north. In particular, once Hasidic Ashkenaz had formulated a
vision of Godhead with a feminine as well as a masculine aspect, “female biol-
ogy” had symbolic salience. For some mystical thinkers, the female taint ex-
tended even to the Shekhinah, the female emanation of the divine spirit.
In later chapters, Koren details the ways in which these mystical structures
(and strictures) affected the lives of ordinary women. The connection between
the spiritual world and quotidian human behavior became even more direct
in the cosmos described by the Zohar, which many contemporary scholars
place in the Castile of the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries. As
Koren lucidly explains, thirteenth-century “theosophical kabbalists” believed
that “they could learn about the inner processes of the divine realm through
the esoteric interpretation of God’s own words” and that the reciprocal rela-
tionship between human beings and God would be powerfully affected—in
both positive and negative ways—by the behavior and motivations of human
beings. “Proper performance of all the commandments would foster unity
in the divine realm, and conversely sinning could unleash the forces of evil in
the sefirotic realm.” Finally, Koren contextualizes these developments in gen-
dered Jewish intellectual history through a finely wrought consideration of
diverse trends in Muslim and Christian theological writings.
Sharon Faye Koren makes a powerful case that opportunities for women’s
spiritual development generally and mystical expression specifically opened
up when concern with menstruation laws declined. Apologists who claim that
esoteric intellectual structures have little impact on quotidian social mores
should look more closely and deeply at both. This fascinating book, in addi-
tion to being a groundbreaking addition to the Hadassah Brandeis Institute
Series on Jewish Women, enables just such critical scrutiny.
Sylvia Barack Fishman
Foreword · xiii
acknowledgments
I am thrilled to finally have the opportunity to publicly thank everyone who

has helped me bring this work to its fruition. I first began studying mysticism
as a graduate student in the medieval studies program at Yale University and
I owe an enormous debt to my teachers. John Boswell (z”l) first ignited my
passion for the study of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam in medieval Spain
and encouraged me to understand Jewish mysticism within its greater cul-
tural context. Jaroslav Pelikan (z”l) was a devoted teacher who was as de-
lighted to learn about modern Jewish rituals as I was to learn about Gregory
of Nazianzus.
This study began as a doctoral dissertation under the guidance of David
Ruderman, Ivan Marcus, and Moshe Idel. Professor David Ruderman, for-
merly of Yale, presently Joseph P. Meyerhoff Professor of Modern Jewish His-
tory and Director of the Center for Advanced Judaic Studies at the University
of Pennsylvania, has been a constant source of encouragement and support.
He is a thoroughly committed mentor concerned with both the academic and
personal well-being of his students. Ivan Marcus taught me to convey an eso-
teric theology in exoteric terms. I am thankful for his close readings, insight,
and patience. When visiting Yale, Moshe Idel introduced me to the academic
study of Kabbalah and to the treasures hidden in Hebrew manuscripts. He
continued to supervise my work throughout graduate school be it in a univer-
sity office, airport lounge, or the number 28 bus from Givat Ram to Har ha-
Tsofim. I am grateful for his guidance and boundless generosity. Elliot Wolf-
son served as an unofficial adviser, closely reading the entire manuscript and
making many helpful suggestions. I appreciate his mentorship and support.
Shaye Cohen generously shared his vast knowledge of rabbinic purity laws.
I benefitted from conversations with Reuven Bonfil, Iris Felix, Boaz Huss,
Judah Galinsky, Alyssa Gray, Avraham Grossman, Tzvi Langermann, Rebecca
Lesses, Yehudah Liebes, Evyatar Marienberg, Ann E. Matter, Michael Pit-
kowsky, Barbara von Schlegell, Avigdor Shinan, and Israel Ta Shma (z”l). I
am especially grateful to Daniel Abrams, Carole Balin, Elisheva Baumgarten,
Judith Baskin, Rachel Elior, Charlotte Fonrobert, Marion Katz, Elka Klein
(z”l), Fern Siegel, Haym Soloveitchik and Devorah Zlochower for reading
portions of my work and offering insightful comments and criticisms. I am
deeply indebted to Elisheva Urbas for her editorial expertise.
xv
This endeavor would not have been possible without the assistance of the
librarians and staff of the Gershom Scholem library, the Institute for Micro-
filmed Hebrew Manuscripts, the Hebrew College Library, Klau Library of
Hebrew Union College and the Jewish Theological Seminary Library. Special
thanks to Tina Weiss of the Klau Library for issuing infinite inter-library loan
requests on my behalf and to Dr. Sharon Lieberman Mintz, curator of Jewish
art at the Jewish Theological Seminary, for helping me find the cover art. I
appreciate the financial assistance of Yale University, the Memorial Founda-
tion for Jewish Culture, the National Foundation for Jewish Culture, The
Interuniversity Fellowship, and the Fulbright Foundation. I am grateful to
the administration, faculty, and staff of the Hebrew Union College Jewish In-
stitute of Religion in New York for providing me with an intellectual and
spiritual haven committed to academic excellence and tiqqun ‘olam.
My wonderful family and friends nurtured me through this long project.
Lisa Cohen, Barbara Gochberg, Rebecca Kobrin, Rachel Rosenfield and
Wendy Zierler sustain me with their boundless energy, laughter, and friend-
ship. Flora Kimmich is a wellspring of kindness and sage advice. My debt to
her is beyond my linguistic ability. My nanny, Inez Gwendolyn Doughty(z”l)
was an Evangelical preacher who inspired me with her faith and song. Her
love motivated me to study the interrelationship between Judaism, Christian-
ity, and Islam. She was the first female mystic I ever met.
My brothers David Koren and Edwin Koren force me to see the unin-
tended humor in my craft. Unsere Eltern (our parents), Ruth and Benjamin
Koren immigrated to the United States after World War II and worked tire-
lessly to ensure that we would attain all that was denied them — especially
formal education. My father always says that an education is something that
no one can ever take away from you. They instilled in me a love of learning,
language, and literature. I could not have written this book without their love,
support, and encouragement. Finally, my long-patient husband Matthew
Aaron is, like his namesake Aharon, the embodiment of loving kindness. He
fills my life with joy, laughter, and wild tales of marine life. I dedicate this
book to our three wonderful daughters, Atara Malka, Talia Ora, and Tamar
Ariel, with love.
An earlier version of chapter 5 appeared in “Kabbalistic Rationales for the

Laws of the Menstruating Woman, in Women and Water: Menstruation in Jew-
xvi · Acknowledgments
ish Life and Law, edited by Rahel Wasserfall (Hanover, NH: Brandeis Univer-
sity Press, 1999) 101–121.
Portions of Chapter 7 appeared in AJS Review 28:2 (2004):317–339 under
the title “Kabbalistic Physiology: Isaac the Blind, Nahmanides, and Moses de
Leon on Menstruation.”
A section of Chapter 9 may be found in Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Wom-
en’s Studies & Gender Issues 17(2009) in my article “The Menstruant as ‘Other’
in Medieval Judaism and Christianity.”
I elaborate on the Zoharic passage in the first two pages of the conclusion
in “Immaculate Sarah: Echoes of the Eve/Mary Dichotomy in the Zohar,”
Viator 41, no. 2 (Autumn 2010): 183–201.
Acknowledgments · xvii
Forsaken
Introduction
Forsaken: “Niddah — de-Naddad lah El”
zohar 3:226a (rm)
In the world of the Zohar, menstruation is antithetical to God. The biblical

term for menstruant, niddah, has two possible roots, n-d-h and n-d-d, both of
which imply expelling.1 Perhaps menstruants were temporarily cast out of
their communities; alternatively, the term may suggest, even more neutrally,
the flow of blood from a menstruant’s body.2 Many medieval Jewish mystics,
however, saw menstruation differently. According to a section of the Zohar,
the most popular work of medieval Kabbalah, the menstruant’s title of niddah
tells us that “God flees from her.” God abandons menstruants because God
cannot suffer impurity. The niddah repels the forces of the holy, and her spiri-
tual vacuum is immediately filled by the forces of evil and impurity.
The niddah appears with stunning frequency in the Zohar.3 To be sure,
menstrual laws appear prominently in medieval law codes and responsa lit-
erature as well. But the Zohar is not a legal work, and the focus on menstrua-
tion that emerged from the Zohar was different in kind from constraints in
other religious circles, in part because it was not merely a set of laws or cus-
toms.4 Like all other Jewish traditions grounded in biblical text, Jewish mys-
tics reinterpreted the laws of the Temple cult in ways that enabled them to
continue to have access to the divine in a post-Temple world.5 The cultic re-
strictions on impurity were expressed anew in Kabbalah as a protection of the
purity of the celestial Temple, one no longer confined by spatial boundaries.
Breaching those restrictions allowed impurity to invade the holy realm. For
many medieval kabbalists, therefore, the menstruant’s spiritual vacuum leads
her to a demonic state, and a menstruating woman is often portrayed as the
embodiment of the sitra ah.ra, the demonic other side. As such, she is not only
dangerous but also forever to be excluded from the divine.
1
Indeed, of the three major religions in medieval Europe — Judaism, Chris-
tianity, and Islam — only Judaism cannot boast a single female mystic. Me-
dieval Jewish women’s exclusion from mystical pursuits cannot be ascribed
simply to patriarchy or to fear of women’s sexuality: Christian and Muslim
women faced the same obstacles yet were able to express themselves within
the mystical tradition. This glaring absence has been noted by several scholars
of medieval Jewish history and mysticism who offer varying explanations.
Gershom Scholem attributes women’s absence to the association between
women and the demonic in Jewish myth.6 Judith Baskin argues that Kabbalah
is a highly intellectual enterprise, and medieval Jewish women never would
have been able to attain the requisite knowledge to participate in mystical en-
deavors.7
Medieval kabbalists, however, offered their own rationale. In the medieval
mystical texts beginning with Hekhalot literature (that is, early Jewish mysti-
cal literature) through pre-expulsion Kabbalah, women were not passively
absent, but rather actively barred from mystical pursuits. Late-antique and
medieval Jewish mystics were unique in their understanding of physical im-
purity as an insurmountable obstacle to divine communion. Even had a
woman the education necessary to comprehend a Zoharic text, she would
have been denied access to the divine realm because of her innate impurity.
This presumed antagonism between the menstruant and the divine ap-
peared in mystical praxis and contributed to the rise of a kabbalistic myth in
which, just as the human menstruant was separated from man, the divine
menstruant had to be separated from the holy aspects of God. Any contact
between the pure male sefirot and the impure Shekhinah could infect the
Godhead with the forces of the demonic realm. Menstruation became a ne-
farious force capable of polluting the divine realm. This symbolic understand-
ing of the menstruant barred Jewish women from “normative” medieval Jew-
ish mysticism — significantly impacting their spiritual status.
“normative” jewish mysticism

Modern studies of the psychology of mysticism have shown that women are
more prone to mystical, or paranormal, religious experiences than are men.8
It is therefore likely that mystical experience was not unknown to medieval
Jewish women. Yet it is also likely that this form of spirituality was not accept-
able among acknowledged Jewish mystics: it did not “count” as mysticism
2 · Introduction
among the male intellectual elite. Michel Foucault has argued that no knowl-
edge exists outside the confines of a cultural context; to maintain power, the
authority of a given culture determines what counts as truth or knowledge
within that society. In Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism, Jantzen adapts
Foucault’s theory to Christian mysticism, arguing that Christian mysticism is
also socially constructed and that authority determines what shall count as
mysticism and who the mystics shall be.9 Jewish mysticism, too, is socially
constructed; those in power determine “what counts as mysticism.” More-
over, they determine the criteria for mystical experience. In Christianity, the
path to true spirituality was virginity;10 in Islam, purity of heart. In Judaism, it
was ritual purity.
Jewish practice, however, has never been monolithic. There is some evi-
dence that Jewish women have long engaged in “alternate” forms of spiritual-
ity. They participated, for example, in magical practices in the late-antique
period,11 and in early-modern Safed, H.ayim Vital mentioned that spirits
would possess certain women and speak through their agency. Women were
active participants in the Sabbatian movement, and many functioned as
prophets.12 Mizrah.i women, like their Muslim female neighbors, venerated
female saints. And in H.asidism, some women — most famously the Maid of
Ludmir — functioned as spiritual leaders.13
These isolated examples of women’s spirituality in the late-antique and
early-modern periods, however, only serve to highlight the glaring absence of
female mystics in the medieval. After 1492, the spiritual and cultural needs of
post-expulsion Jewry provided new avenues for women’s cultural expression.
Safedian kabbalists in the sixteenth century democratized elements of Kab-
balah in an effort to hasten redemption. Pious acts by all Jews — including
women — were then believed to be instrumental in effecting changes in the
cosmos, and consequently, women may have achieved new prestige.
alternate forms of
female spiritual expression
Jewish mysticism, however, was not immediately transformed into an egali-
tarian spiritual system. Rather, the accounts of these pre-modern women
reinforce the notion of mysticism as a social construct because the opportu-
nities for women in Safed, Sabbatianism, and early H.asidism perpetuated
rather than abolished the patriarchal status quo. The women that H.ayim Vital
Introduction · 3
mentions in his diary were not kabbalists in their own right, but rather vessels
for dispossessed (often male) spirits.14 They appear in the diary to buttress
Vital’s prestige and to save suffering male souls. Tkhines literature, the ver-
nacular expression of women’s spirituality in the early-modern period, simi-
larly did not “count” as mysticism. As Chava Weissler has shown, these forms
of devotion were meant explicitly for “women and [for] men who are like
women in not being able to learn much.”15
Ada Rapoport-Albert has argued that the Maid of Ludmir tradition also
perpetuates rather than changes the status of women in the Jewish mystical
tradition. Like many medieval Christian female mystics, the Maid of Ludmir
denied her sexuality and led an ascetic, celibate life in order to pursue her spiri-
tual and scholarly path. Although her following grew, contemporary religious
leaders believed that she had either been possessed by an impure spirit or by
the soul of a Tsaddiq (righteous man) who had transmigrated into her body as
penance for some sin.16 Once she was persuaded to marry and assumed her
“rightful” position as wife in the Jewish world, she lost her following and died
in obscurity. Thus, according to Rapoport-Albert, far from promoting the
equality of women, “Hasidism embraced unquestioningly all the concep-
tions of women produced by rabbinic Judaism, as well as the kabbalistic as-
sociation of women with the demonic and the concomitant representation
by women of negative, material sexuality.”17 These negative associations be-
tween women, matter, and lust are justified in kabbalistic theology through
various understandings of gender and impurity.
why impurity?
The human body has long been considered a barrier to the divine. This belief
was expressed in Greek thought as a dichotomy between body and spirit.
Those who sought spiritual success endeavored to free their soul from the
confines of the material body.18 Such total rejection of God’s creation, how-
ever, was uncommon in Jewish thought,19 which was more inclined to ask
how to honor the creator God and his creations. Over time, fleeting physical
pollution came to block access to the divine. Impurity was the matter; purity,
the form. Ritual purity became the Jewish way of “assimilating to God” on
earth.20
In Leviticus, God exhorts Israel to be holy because He is holy.21 The term
employed, qedushah (holiness), has a twofold meaning. The word initially
4 · Introduction
connoted “separation” or “withdrawal.”22 This separateness does not imply
remoteness, but rather separation from anything impure and polluting. Num-
bers and Deuteronomy assume that God (or his indwelling, the Shekhinah)
rested on the camp of the Israelites. Physical purity was necessary to ensure
that God inhered in the community. Deuteronomy 23:15 mandates purity:
“[S]ince the Lord your God moves about in your camp to protect you and to
deliver your enemies to you, let your camp be holy.” Numbers 5:1–4 bars from
the camp those with corpse impurity, scale disease, and genital discharges.23
Removal from impurity was the means by which the Children of Israel be-
came like God and ensured their close connection with the divine.
The priestly authors of Leviticus held that these meetings were only pos-
sible at the tabernacle and its successor, the Jerusalem Temple — a unique
juncture on earth where the divine and human realm might meet. Mircea Eli-
ade taught that “for religious man, space is not homogeneous: he experiences
interruptions, breaks in it; some parts of space are qualitatively different from
others.”24 Many believed that the Temple mount was a point at which the bar-
riers between the terrestrial and the divine could be breached. Physical purity
was therefore essential for admission to the Jerusalem Temple.
Many religions in the late-antique period saw a loosening of the geographi-
cal requirements for divine communion in favor of more “mobile” religion.
As Jonathan Smith explains in his essay “The Temple and the Magician,”
[t]he ancient books of wisdom, the authority — indeed the divinity — of
the priest-king, the faith of the clergy in the efficacy of their rituals, the
temple as the chief locus of revelation — all of these have been relativized
in favor of the direct contact with a mobile magician with his equally mo-
bile divinity.25
For Judeans, this trend toward mobility began somewhat prematurely. After
the destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE, the prophet Ezekiel (1:1)
imagined a mobile Temple chariot traveling through the heavens to the rivers
of Babylon. After the return from the Babylonian Exile and the subsequent
reconstruction, emergent Jewry responded to the new stationary Temple in
many different ways. Some resumed the status quo, while others developed
alternative rituals in response to their disaffection with the refurbished cult.
The experience of living without a Temple allowed for the possibility of
extra-Temple ritual, but its symbols remained entrenched. Burgeoning Jewish
imaginations contextualized new traditions through the lens of cultic rituals.
Introduction · 5
The Qumran sect believed that the Second Temple was polluted and antici-
pated the arrival of a messianic age in which the purity requirements of the
Temple cult would extend in varying degrees throughout the land.26 Pharisees
adapted the purity requirements of the Temple to their daily lives. Indeed,
after the destruction of the Second Temple, the redactors of the Mishnah de-
voted approximately two-thirds of the work to the laws of the Temple cult,
reformulating ritual into study. The symbolic relevance of the Temple began
to transform to meet the spiritual needs of an evolving Jewry. It became a
locus in time, space, or mind, where one could achieve proximity to God, a
symbol that inspired all subsequent forms of Jewish mystical contemplation.
The earliest Jewish mysticism is named for the vestibule in front of the Holy
of Holies, Hekhal. German Pietists (c. 1100–1250) reimagined Ezekiel’s four-
wheeled chariot as the divine name, and medieval Kabbalists understood the
sefirot (divine potencies) as the merkavah. Jewish mystics, who desired to
overcome the boundaries of their own physical nature in order to ascend to
heaven,27 to achieve mystical union, to attain a mystical vision, or to affect the
Godhead would first need to address the purity requirements of the Temple.
why menstrual impurity?

Many cultures try to avoid various forms of pollution. Menstrual blood is
among the most common taboos, and the word taboo may originate in the
word tupua, Polynesian for menstruation.28 As noted, the roots for the term
niddah (n-d-d, “depart,” “flee,” “wander,” and n-d-h, “chase away,” “put aside,”
“drive out”) have the notion of expelling in common.29 Anthropologists have
devoted much effort to uncovering the underlying reason for the almost
universal fear of menstrual blood. Indeed, there is a vast literature on the
meaning of menstrual impurity in the Bible. Scholarly opinion ranges from
the neutral — Mary Douglas’s now classic (and disputed) theory of impurity
laws as a means of establishing order — to the positive — David Biale’s most
recent argument that the priests revered the fertility potential symbolized by
menstrual blood.30 Many late-antique and medieval mystics, however, ratio-
nalized levitical purity laws and their need to separate menstruants from the
sacred by calling on the dichotomy between life and death.
The notion of death governs fear of the menstruant in many cultures. Be-
cause menstrual blood signifies the death of a potential life, it is understood
to be a source of danger to the living.31 Since “the life of the flesh is in the
6 · Introduction
blood” (Lev. 17:11), the loss of menstrual blood may be perceived as the death
of a potential life.32 Within the context of the Israelite Temple cult this nexus
between menstruation and death underlies the perceived need to separate
menstruants from God. God is the God of life, and blood is the material
means by which He vivifies. The association between menstrual blood and
death implies that menstruants symbolize the opposite of the holy and must,
therefore, remain separate from the sancta.33 Note that menstruants were not
singled out for prejudice in the levitical system. Jacob Milgrom explains that
in the Bible all three kinds of human impurity — corpse/carcass, scale dis-
ease, and genital discharges — share the notion of death. Scale disease gives
the appearance of death; the loss of semen in men and of menstrual blood in
women represents death.34
menstruation in priestly and rabbinic law

In the purity laws of the ancient Israelite Temple cult, impurity was not spe-
cific to women, but a potential state of all Israelites. The menstruating woman
was but one of four types of impure person with genital discharge who were
barred from religious practice and could ritually pollute others.35 Only ves-
tiges of the elaborate cultic purity system, however, survived the destruction
of the Second Temple in 70 CE. The menstruant was one such vestige, and
rituals by which she could change her status and gain readmittance to the
community of the holy were set forth in the Talmud, and justification for the
continued observance of menstrual laws founded on cultic practice was pro-
vided in the Holiness Code. The niddah was banned not only from the Tem-
ple but from her husband as well. Sexual relations between a man and his
menstruating wife are explicitly forbidden in Leviticus 18:19 and 20:18. There-
fore, while the criterion of purity may be interpreted as a mark of an older
system, this prohibition, which appears in a catalogue of forbidden sexual re-
lations, extended beyond the cultic realm.
Leviticus deems the woman with a normal discharge (the niddah) impure
for seven days. The woman who has had an abnormal issue (the zavah) must
wait an additional seven “clean” days after the cessation of her flow before she
may be considered pure and present a sacrifice.36 The Tannaim (the rabbis of
the mishnaic period) made these definitions correspond to an eighteen-day
cycle, allotting seven “days of niddah” for the menstrual flow and eleven “days
of zivah,” when no flow was expected.37 Thus the “days of niddah” begin with
Introduction · 7
the first flow of blood and end seven days later, irrespective of the actual length
of the blood flow. After the end of this seven-day period, a woman would then
immerse herself in a ritual bath.38 The “days of zivah” are counted for the fol-
lowing eleven days; all blood that flows during this time is considered abnor-
mal. After the cessation of such a flow, a woman would immerse herself in a
ritual bath. The Jerusalem Talmud records Rav Huna stating that “one who
sees a drop [of blood] as small as mustard-seed waits and observes seven
clean days on account of it.”39 Later, the Babylonian Talmud reported Rabbi
Zeira’s ruling that the pious daughters of Israel self-imposed the command
to wait seven clean days should they see a drop of blood the size of a mustard
seed. This stricture came to eliminate the distinction between the zavah and
the niddah, requiring all women to wait seven clean days after the end of any
blood flow before ritual immersion. Thus Rabbi Zeira eliminated the leviti-
cal category of the niddah and deemed all menstruants technically zavot.40
This understanding obligated Jewish husbands and wives to separate for at
least twelve days, the five-to-seven days of actual flow and an additional seven
“clean” days, allotting roughly fifteen days of the monthly cycle for marital
relations.41
The rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud upheld menstrual laws in order to
observe the biblical proscription against illicit sexual relations. Thus during
this twelve-to- fourteen-day period of separation, menstruants were restricted
only in those aspects of their lives that immediately affected the male. Ac-
cording to BT Ketuvot, the menstruant was permitted to fulfill all her do-
mestic responsibilities except filling her husband’s cup, making his bed, and
washing his feet, three duties that might lead to intimacy between husband
and wife.42 To ensure proper practice, rabbis undertook to discover the under-
lying reasons for the imposed separation, for in the absence of direct means of
enforcing the laws of the niddah, which by their very nature were observed
(or not) in the privacy of the bedroom, they had to fall back on the cogency
of their interpretive powers.43 Rabbi Meir explained that a niddah was de-
clared impure so that she might remain as beloved to her husband as on the
day they married. The medieval commentator Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh.aqi (Rashi)
adds that if a man has relations with his wife at will, she will begin to disgust
him.44 For many rabbis of the Babylonian Talmud, the enforced seven-day
separation protected against satiety and contempt.45 Palestinian Jews, by con-
trast, were more stringent in their observance of menstrual separation than
Babylonian.46 In fact, Rabbi Zeira’s broader definition of menstrual impurity,
8 · Introduction
mentioned above, originates in a Palestinian source. Palestinian Jews restricted
menstruants not only to deter illicit sexual relations but also to pay tribute to
cultic practice.47
the difference between

male and female impurity
Leviticus lists four types of genital discharge that rendered one impure and
consequently barred one from the Temple cult: abnormal male discharge
(zav), normal male discharge (baal qeri), abnormal female discharge (zavah),
and normal female discharge (menstrual blood, niddah).48 The list is both
symmetrical and balanced between male and female impurities: two dis-
charges are specific to men and two to women; abnormal male discharge cor-
responds to abnormal female discharge; normal male discharge corresponds
to normal female discharge. Milgrom notes that each impurity is described in
the same fashion: the “impurity is defined, the consequences described and
its purification prescribed.”49 Both the language and the structure of the pas-
sage in Leviticus suggest equality between male and female issue. That both
menstrual impurity and seminal pollution remain ritually relevant after the
destruction of the Temple also suggests parity between male and female geni-
tal fluxes.
There is evidence, however, that the Tannaim excluded ejaculants from
the sacred rather than menstruants.50 According to the Mishnah and Tosefta,
ejaculants and women who had sexual intercourse could not engage in sacred
acts until they had purified themselves through ritual immersion. Men and
women with a genital discharge, menstruants, and parturients, by contrast,
were allowed to read the Torah, study holy texts, and recite benedictions even
though they were “ritually” impure.51 In the mishnaic period, seminal pollu-
tion alone raised a barrier to liturgical practice and Torah study.52 Later, Baby-
lonian and Palestinian Jews differed in their observance of the laws of baal
qeri. Babylonian Jews did not immerse themselves after ejaculation, reason-
ing that they were already subject to corpse impurity and that they lived in an
“impure land.” They submitted further that their impurity should not impinge
upon prayer or Torah study because, according to Rabbi Judah ben Betayra,
“the words of Torah are not subject to impurity.”53 Palestinian Jews, by con-
trast, required ritual immersion after ejaculation of all those who wished to
participate in the sacred.54
Introduction · 9
Later halakhists subscribed to the Babylonian tradition and did not require
ejaculants to immerse themselves before observing religious rites.55 Jewish
mystics, by contrast, believed that seminal pollution blocked mystical expe-
rience.56 Hekhalot literature, for example, prohibits contact with women in
order to avoid any threat of seminal pollution. Medieval kabbalists enlarged
these prohibitions, deeming onanites evil and teaching that spilled seed en-
genders demons.57 How then were male mystics able to assert that only they
could achieve a level of purity sufficient to attain divine vision?
The answer lies in the essential difference between male and female impu-
rity. The normal genital discharges of men and women can be compared, but
they cannot be and were not equated. Normal male discharge can be con-
trolled,58 and by controlling ejaculation, men gain mastery of their sexuality.
Talmudic rabbis, in fact, defined masculinity in terms of self-restraint. Satlow
explains that “to be a man” meant “to exercise self-control in the pursuit of the
divine through the study of Torah or a life of the mind.”59 The tannaitic isola-
tion of baalei qeri from the sacred reflects rabbinic ambivalence toward sexu-
ality rather than any cultic nostalgia. According to PT Berakhot, requiring
immersion after ejaculation keeps Israelites from behaving “like roosters who
engage in sexual relations at all times.” Ejaculants were penalized in order to
show that sexual activity was “incompatible with holy activity.”60 Menstrua-
tion, by contrast, is not libidinal and women cannot control their flow.
Length of ritual purification is another essential difference between male
and female impurity. The baal qeri must bathe his body in water and wait
only until the evening of his issue to become pure. Menstruating women are
deemed impure for seven days in the Bible and for at least twelve days in the
Talmud.
If biological difference and ritual purification were the only disparities
between men and women before the law, women could have engaged in mys-
tical pursuits during the half of each month when they were ritually pure. A
third disparity precludes women altogether: the very definition of male and
female impurity in Leviticus. Fonrobert has shown that male seminal pollu-
tion and the menstrual flow are parallel in every respect except one: a man
becomes ritually impure when he has a discharge “from his body [mi-besaro
(Lev. 15:2)], whereas a woman is ritually impure when she has a discharge “in
her body” [bivsara (Lev. 15:19)]. In effect, male impurity is exterior, and female
impurity is interior.61 Women are susceptible to impurity at all times and are
therefore continually barred from mystical practice — a legal construction that
10 · Introduction
also accounts for the absence of post-menopausal women mystics. In fact, in
the Middle Ages menopausal women were considered especially dangerous
because they could never rid themselves of their impurity.62
The mystery of the laws of niddah was so deep that it could not be disclosed
to the unworthy. One of the secrets of the menstruating woman is put into the
mouth of the hero of the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai, who revealed this
secret to his circle alone. His explanation is not recorded.63 I shall endeavor
to disclose the significance of female impurity for Jewish spirituality in the
following nine chapters.
Part 1 explores the importance of purity in mystical pursuits in early Jewish
mysticism and German Pietism. In chapter 1, I describe how Hekhalot litera-
ture transposed the purity requirements of the Temple cult to the heavens
and note that the ascetic requirements for Hekhalot mystical praxis empha-
sized seminal pollution over menstrual impurity — an understandable bias
given the fact that the practitioners were male. The significance of menstrual
impurity for early mysticism was only fully expressed in the Beraita d’Niddah
and related traditions, the subject of chapter 2. In chapter 3, I trace these atti-
tudes to medieval Europe and note a shift in emphasis. German Pietists
broadened the command to avoid menstruants before engaging in mystical
activity and adopted the strictures of the Beraita d’Niddah. I suggest that the
Pietists’ heightened interest in menstruation was prompted by their esoteric
theology.
The central section of the book focuses on medieval Spanish Kabbalah.
Chapter 4 describes how medieval kabbalists superimposed the celestial Tem-
ple onto a sefirotic structure and in so doing made ritual and sexual purity
essential for all adepts. These purity prerequisites substantially differed in de-
gree from those in earlier mystical traditions because kabbalists had to strug-
gle with impurity in a theurgic universe. In fact, the importance of menstrual
impurity for mystical practice gave rise to the myth of the menstruating She-
khinah, the subject of chapter 5. Chapter 6 describes the role of the menstru-
ating Shekhinah in kabbalistic theosophy and praxis. When pure, the Shekhi-
nah promoted divine unity. When impure, she became a dangerous force of
evil that had to be banned, literally niddah, from the divine realm. Chapter 7
demonstrates how kabbalistic understandings of menstruation directly af-
fected the status of medieval Jewish women. Kabbalists appealed to natural
philosophy and medieval medicine to justify their attitudes toward women.
Introduction · 11
Anathema to God and dangerous to man, medieval Jewish women were thus
barred from “normative” mysticism.
Part 3 looks at the role of menstruation in medieval Muslim and Western
Christian mysticism. Though medieval Muslims and some Christians main-
tained purity laws, menstruation was not a barrier for women in either reli-
gion during the high Middle Ages. Indeed, Christianity and Islam’s attitude
toward menstruation highlights the different criteria for mystical success
for each religion. Chapter 8 explores menstrual laws in Islam and argues that
the quotidian nature of human impurity in Islam diminished the stigma of
menstruation: purity of soul rather than purity of body is prerequisite for
mystical success. Chapter 9 addresses the persistence of purity laws in the
Latin West through the thirteenth century and demonstrates how the flower-
ing of Christian women’s spirituality coincided with the diminishing interest
in menstrual laws.
12 · Introduction
I
Early Jewish Mysticism
1
From Earthly Temple
to Heavenly Temple
Impurity in Early Jewish Mysticism
The theology that would become Kabbalah derived in part from the mystical
experiences and ascetical practices that were preserved in the Hekhalot litera-
ture. Scholars vary widely in their dating of Hekhalot literature, some dating
its origin as early as the second century CE, thereby situating the literature in
the rabbinic period, and others extending its duration through the thirteenth
century.1 These traditions likely originated in Palestine, then transmitted from
there to Babylonia, Cairo, and Italy before many texts were eventually re-
dacted in the twelfth through thirteenth centuries by the German Pietists.2
Hekhalot literature, like much of subsequent Jewish mysticism, is informed
by the Temple cult. The term Hekhal refers in temple architecture to the ves-
tibule in front of the Holy of Holies; in the mystical tradition, this physical
construct is abstracted to refer to the heavenly palaces through which the
adept must past to reach the throne of God.3 Those aspiring to achieve a mys-
tical vision are often described as Merkavah mystics. The term Merkavah refers
to Ezekiel’s vision of a mobile temple. Just as Ezekiel transformed the Holy of
Holies into a mobile symbol of the connection to God to satisfy the spiritual
needs of a people in exile, so too the Merkavah mystics moved the Temple to
the heavens themselves, so that the mystic could become like a latter-day high
priest and enter a celestial Holy of Holies.4 These mystics believed that they
must actively pursue God, strengthening themselves for this task by adhering
to ascetic prerequisites and undergoing moral and ritual purification.5
Joseph Dan identified three types of merkavah mystical experience: (1) the
heavenly ascent, (2) the adjuration of an angel to earth, and (3) contempla-
tions on the measurements of God’s body (Shi ur Qomah).6 The first two
types are relevant here. For the heavenly ascent, the adept must first undergo
15
ascetic preparations, whereafter he may embark upon the dangerous journey
to the divine realm. Inhospitable angels immediately attempt to bar his entry,
but magical prayers and the powerful name of God aid his admittance to the
heavenly palaces. If he is true to his task, he will eventually attain his goal: vi-
sion of the divine throne and participation in the angelic liturgy.7 For the sec-
ond type of merkavah experience, the adjuration,8 the mystic uses magical
incantations, similar to those found on Babylonian magic bowls and amu-
lets.9 If the adjuration is successful, an angel known as the Prince of Torah
(Sar Torah) will appear to divulge the secrets of Torah.10
Access to this heavenly Temple and divine secrets, like access to the Jeru-
salem Temple, is, in the Hekhalot literature, restricted to the ritually pure.11
Seminal or menstrual pollution preclude the mystic from achieving his goal,
thus the rationale for the observance of the laws of menstrual impurity and
seminal pollution differs greatly from the talmudic. The rabbis of the Talmud
were torn between the desire for marriage and children and the desire for
Torah study. Many felt that sexual desire was inimical to divine pursuits and
therefore prohibited ejaculants from performing sacred acts, such as reading
the Torah and praying for the community, lest rabbis copulate “like roosters
in a hen yard.”12 These prohibitions demonstrate the rabbis’ ambivalence to-
ward sexuality and their seduction by Hellenistic and Christian asceticism,
rather than cultic concerns.13 Indeed, the Talmud focuses on the sexual rather
than the cultic aspect of menstrual isolation. Menstruants are prohibited only
from performing domestic tasks that would promote intimacy between hus-
band and wife. Hekhalot literature, by contrast, focuses on the cult, with many
texts enlarging upon Temple cult rituals to create a celestial cult in a world
without a terrestrial Temple.14 Physical purity therefore remains essential after
the destruction of the physical Temple because human impurity disqualifies
adepts from divine service and Torah knowledge.
In contrast to cultic ritual, however, the ascetic prerequisites of Hekhalot
literature emphasize avoiding seminal pollution over menstrual impurity
or menstruants. That is not to say that menstruation was marginalized or ig-
nored. Rather, Hekhalot literature transvalues menstrual impurity and makes
it the province of men. Indeed, some Hekhalot texts co-opt menstrual purifi-
catory rituals and transform them into ascetic mystical techniques. Others
privilege knowledge of menstrual laws as one of the goals of the mystical ex-
perience. Another text uses extra-rabbinic halakhic (legal) standards to trans-
form menstrual impurity into a magical tool. This unique treatment of men-
16 · Early Jewish Mysticism
strual impurity, which gives us insight into the culture and concerns of the
authors of Hekhalot literature, highlights the perceived antagonism between
the niddah and divine pursuits.
There is one noteworthy exception to this tendency to disassociate women
from their bodily issue in Hekhalot literature. When an adept wishes to learn
the name of God, he must avoid looking at menstruants. Because the knowl-
edge of the name of God became one of the most essential aspects of medi-
eval Jewish mysticism, this single ascetic regimen would outweigh others in
its significance.
pursuing god through purity

The underlying assumption of Hekhalot literature is that impurity represents
the antithesis of heavenly sanctity. The pure and impure realms cannot mix. A
mystic who undertakes an ascent while impure would incur the wrath of an-
gels; an adjuror would not succeed in calling down the Prince of Torah.15 Hek-
halot literature, like the Qumran Scrolls, expands the cultic definition of pu-
rity to include both moral and ritual impurity. He who wishes to descend into
the chariot (yored merkavah) must be “clean and free of idol worship, illicit
sexual relations, murder, slander, perjury, conceit and groundless hatred and
perform all the positive and negative commandments.” Similarly, one may use
the formulae required to adjure an angel only if one approaches God in “awe,
fear, purity, after immersion, in honesty, asceticism, humility, and fear of sin.”16
The emphasis on the need for physical purity for divine vision marks a
dramatic shift in the possibilities for a divine–human encounter in a post-
Temple world. The Bible presents two types of divine–human interaction.
The priestly writers and the Deuteronomist present the Temple in Jerusalem
as God’s office on earth. Through elaborate preparatory rituals, the high priest
may enter God’s office in the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur. An unqualified
or ill-prepared high priest could kill himself and wreak havoc on his fellow
Israelites. Classical prophecy is the other prominent form of divine–human
encounter in the Hebrew Scriptures. In contrast to the activity of the high
priest, the classical prophet is essentially passive. There are no prerequisites
for classical prophecy. God chooses the prophet, and he must obey the call.
After the destruction of the Temple, these two means of divine interaction
were erased. The Holy of Holies was destroyed, and the Second Temple never
achieved the same cachet as the first. The rabbis suggested that the Shekhinah,
Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 17
God’s indwelling, never rested upon the Second Temple,17 and they negated
the possibility of prophecy, stating that prophecy ceased in the days of Haggai
and Malachi.18
How then to achieve divine communion? Unlike the classical prophet
Ezekiel, who could passively wait for the Merkavah to appear to him, these
heroes actively pursue God, strengthening themselves for this task through
ascetic prerequisites and moral and ritual purification.19 Merkavah mystics
use purity as a magical tool to call God by combining the purificatory require-
ments of the high priesthood and the ecstatic experience of the prophets.20
Indeed, according to one passage, divine communion is achieved not by
“prophets and seers but by means of purity and cleanliness.”21 Like the tenets
of sympathetic magic, mystical practitioners must be pure to approach a pure
God,22 or they must be in a state of purity to use his pure name for magical
purposes.23 Both the Hekhalot mystic and the magician aspire to discover
mysteries and to have their desires fulfilled: the Hekhalot mystic yearns for
the secrets of Torah while the magician hopes to learn the ways of the demons
in an attempt to control their actions.24 It is not surprising, therefore, to find
that the purity rituals in magical texts are strikingly similar to those found in
Hekhalot literature.25 For example, a magician who wants to make a request
of an angel must undergo an elaborate three-week cleansing process, during
which he must avoid certain foods, “may not approach” a niddah (menstru-
ant), a corpse, a leper, or a zav (man with an abnormal discharge), and must
guard himself from qeri (semen) and the emission of semen.26 Note that the
language employed evokes the biblical usage: the magician, like the male Isra-
elite in Leviticus 18:19, must “not approach” a menstruous woman.
As these formulae make clear, both seminal and menstrual pollution hin-
dered magical endeavors. Not only was purity prerequisite for divine pur-
suits, but menstrual impurity could be used to suspend a heavenly vision.
The association between purity and divine pursuits is not unique to Hek-
halot literature and magical formulae, but appears as well in rabbinic material.
For example, in the Beraita of Rabbi Pinh.as ben Yair:
It is taught: “Be on your guard against anything untoward” (Deut. 23:10):
A person should not have impure thoughts during the day, lest he encoun-
ter impurity at night. From here R. Pinh. as ben Yair says: “Heedfulness
leads to cleanliness, cleanliness leads to abstinence, abstinence leads to
purity, purity leads to holiness, holiness leads to modesty, modesty leads

to fear of sin, fear of sin leads to saintliness, saintliness leads to the Holy
Spirit, the Holy Spirit leads to the revivification of the dead.”27
This ladder to spiritual success appears in the middle of a rabbinic elabora-
tion of the biblical purity requirements for military camps. God’s indwelling
(Shekhinah) accompanied Israelite soldiers to battle and rested upon their
camp. To maintain the high level of purity necessary for God’s indwelling,
ejaculants were barred from the military camp.28 According to the beraita,
purity from seminal pollution constitutes the first rung in the ladder toward
spiritual success.29 Men must first be “heedful” to avoid impure thoughts that
could lead to ejaculation. (The term “untoward” in Deut. 23:10 refers to im-
pure and lustful thoughts [hirhurim] that would cause a soldier to ejaculate.)
Success in this endeavor would lead first to cleanliness from sin and then to
abstinence.30 Because sexual abstinence would free men of the possibility of
seminal pollution in sexual intercourse, they could progress to the next level:
purity. The state of purity would then help them acquire a level of holiness
that would ultimately lead to the revivification of the dead. The difference
between this rabbinic text and the Hekhalot material is primarily one of ex-
plicitness in specifying that purity leads men to God.31
The Baal Qeri as Niddah

Some rabbinic dicta forbid ejaculants to engage in earthly liturgy and Torah
study; Hekhalot literature bars ejaculants from the divine Temple liturgy and
Torah secrets.32 The rationale for the antagonism between ejaculants and the
holy, however, varies. The rabbis barred only ejaculants from sacred acts be-
cause they believed that sexual activity was incompatible with holy activity;
the ritual purity status of the ejaculant was not at issue since the Temple had
been destroyed.33 Hekhalot mystics, by contrast, imposed the purity require-
ments of the Temple cult upon the heavenly realm and barred the ejaculant
from mystical activity because he was ritually impure.
All of the possible rabbinic definitions of baal qeri are found in Hekhalot
literature. In the ascension report and adjuration of Rabbi Aqiva, for example,
the unmarried adept is cautioned against becoming an onanist, while the
married mystic is told to separate from his wife lest he become an ejaculant
in sexual intercourse.34 Some texts refer to other forms of ejaculation; for
example, if a mystic should “see qeri, even during the day,” in the midst of his

ascetic preparations, he must begin all of his efforts anew.35 The addition of
the phrase “even during the day” indicates that the text refers to both noctur-
nal emissions and to conscious ejaculation.
The prescribed period of isolation from seminal pollution varies in the
Hekhalot materials. Seclusion for three days or seven days is most common
and clearly invokes biblical and mishnaic precedents. The need to separate
from women for three days to prevent seminal pollution alludes to the im-
posed period of separation before the granting of Torah at Mount Sinai (Exo-
dus 19:15).36 Seven-day separations may refer either to the levitical purification
period for the man with an abnormal genital issue (zav)37 or more likely to
the high priest’s seven-day period of isolation before Yom Kippur.38 Just as the
high priest separates from the community in order to purify himself before
entering the Holy of Holies on Yom Kippur, the mystic, high priest of the
heavens, purifies himself for seven days before entering the celestial hekhal.
The Mystic as Niddah

Explanations for other time requirements are less obvious. Several texts call
for a twelve-day period of fasting, prayer, and seclusion.39 For example, a
practitioner who suspects that he may have become polluted by qeri while
preparing to adjure the Sar Torah must remain in seclusion for twelve days.
Why twelve? A close reading of the instructions provides the answer:
Whoever [wants to] be bound up with the Prince of Torah
let him wash his clothes and undergarments,
let him immerse in a strict bath because of the doubt of having had an
emission of pollution.
And let him enter and sit for twelve days in a room or in an upper chamber.
And let him neither leave nor eat nor drink except from evening to
evening.
In order that he might eat his bread with a clean (pure) hand, and drink
pure water, and not taste any type of vegetable.40
The suspected baal qeri is told to wash and immerse himself in a “strict
bath,” which I assume refers to full immersion in a river or stream rather than
to the more lenient option of washing with only nine qav of water.41 Yet the
aspiring adjuror is not purified by immersion alone. The means of achieving
complete purification of this exclusively male form of pollution are framed in
decidedly female terms. The baal qeri must first “sit” for twelve days, a period
of isolation identical to that required of the niddah, who must separate from
her husband for a minimum of twelve days — at least five days of actual flow
and seven additional clean days.42 Thus, the impure adept becomes a niddah;
he must separate from the divine just as menstruants must separate from their
husbands.43
The references to female biology continue in the description of the site of
confinement. The adept must remain in a chamber (h.eder) or an upper cham-
ber (aliyah). These words refer not only to rooms in a home but also to repro-
ductive organs in a woman’s body. The rabbis often described female anatomy
by the architectural terms h.eder, prozdor (hallway), and aliyah.44 According
to the Mishnah, blood from the chamber is always impure, while blood from
the hallway is of doubtful purity.45 Confining the mystic to a chamber is there-
fore a symbolic act: the niddah-like adept must reside in the metaphorical
place of origin of impure blood.46
The aspiring mystic longs to cross the boundaries of the terrestrial world in
order to communicate with the divine. The anthropologist Van Gennep de-
fined this moment of transition from one realm to the other as the liminal
state — “a moment of suspension of normal rules and roles, a crossing of
boundaries and violating of norms, that enables us to understand these
norms.” In medieval Europe, male saints would often describe their liminal
states, that is to say, their key moments of transition or eonversion, in symbols
that reverse societal structure. Caroline Bynum has shown that “chief among
these images [of reversal] is woman — as fact and as symbol. For example,
when Francis of Assisi renounces his father, he prays to Mary and claims, like
her, to give birth to his first child — his first disciple. 47 The adept in Hekhalot
literature undergoes a similar symbolic transformation. In the midst of his
metamorphosis from adept to mystic, he undergoes a symbolic reversal in
which he becomes impure like a menstruant — an image underscored but his
twelve-day confinement in the chamber or the upper chamber. Only then
may he emerge purified and spiritually reborn.
Avoiding Women
That the initiate becomes like a menstruant does not suggest an underlying
sympathy for women in Hekhalot literature. Indeed, Hekhalot literature’s use
of female symbols not only reaffirms but intensifies rabbinic understandings.
A mystic can only achieve his quest by breaking free of the impure womblike
chamber — that is, by completely separating from women. Some rituals re-
quire complete separation and demand that the initiate eschew women be-
fore adjurations or ascent;48 others simply prohibit looking at women.49 These
prescriptions may refer either to women in general or to menstruants in par-
ticular. Given the great concern about seminal emissions in the ascetic rituals
and the absence of any explicit mention of menstruants, it seems likely that the
proscriptions belong to a general effort to prevent seminal pollution. Avoid-
ing women obviates the possibility of sexual intercourse and prevents seminal
pollution; not looking at women would prevent sexual arousal that could lead
to nocturnal emissions or masturbation.50
By contrast, many of the food restrictions standard to the mystic’s ascetic
regimen directly reflect a concern for avoiding food prepared by menstruants.
Before an ascent or adjuration, the mystic must fast during the day and eat
specially prepared foods at night. He must abstain from vegetables, eat bread
only with a pure hand, and drink only pure water. He must be just as vigilant
about what goes into his body as he is about issue. While abstention from
meat and vegetables reflects other concerns, the many restrictions on bread
and water are directly related to purity.51 Mystics are told to eat bread made
by their own hands and to drink water that they have poured.52
This emphasis on food preparation reflects cultic purity concerns. Priests
were expected to partake of “pure” food in a ritually pure state. They were
given their cereal in pure vessels, and impure persons were barred from con-
tact with their meals ( Jud. 11:13).53 The Pharisees extended these require-
ments beyond the Temple Mount and ate only “pure” food in a ritually pure
state. Palestinian rabbis maintained this custom after the destruction of the
Second Temple, barring menstruating women from all manner of food prepa-
ration because their touch could pollute any food, drink, or utensil. Hekhalot
mystics who saw themselves as latter-day high priests carried on these cultic
purity concerns in their warnings not to eat bread made by women54 or drink
water that they pour.55
recognizing menstrual impurity

in hekhalot literature
Hekhalot mystics not only wanted to avoid menstrual impurity but wanted to
understand all of its nuances. Rabbis of the Talmud believed that they had the
ability to determine pure and impure bloods on the basis of color or smell:
just as the high priest would differentiate between pure and impure skin le-
sions on the basis of color, his successor, the rabbi, “as an expert on purity and
impurity [was] trained in the differentiation of colors.”56 Hekhalot mystics,
as high priests of the heavens, wished to attain the ability to recognize differ-
ent types of impure blood in order to help women determine their purity
status.57 Indeed, one passage states that God is aware of the Hekhalot mystic’s
desire for this ability.
The successful adept not only recognized impure bloods but was granted
the ability to identify those who observe the laws of niddah:
The greatest thing of all is the fact
That he sees and recognizes all the deeds of men, even those that they do
in the chamber of chambers, whether they are good or corrupt deeds
If a man steals, he knows [it] and recognizes him;
If one commits adultery, he knows [it] and recognizes him;
If one has murdered, he knows it and recognizes him;
If one is suspected of having intercourse with a menstruating woman, he
[the adept] knows it and recognizes him.58
Greatest [power] of all is the fact that all creatures before him are like
silver before the smith, who perceives which silver has been refined,
which is impure, and which is pure. He even sees into the family —
how many mamzerim [bastards] there are in the family, how many
sons were sired during menstruation.59
As Schäfer has shown, the Hekhalot mystic as silversmith differentiating the
pure from the impure is derived from the image of messiah in Malachi 3:23.
The ability to recognize menstrual impurity facilitates a mystical experience,
and is a mark of personal salvation.
halakhic magic?
In Hekhalot literature, menstrual impurity is not only a symbol, or divine se-
cret, but a powerful force, inimical to the divine realm. This understanding
of menstrual impurity is born out in one of the most famous episodes from
Hekhalot Rabbati, the recall of Rabbi Neh. unyah ben Haqanah from a heav-
enly vision.60 While in the midst of a mystical trance, Rabbi Neh.unyah ben
Haqanah recounts his vision to his students. They are unable to understand
his description of the gatekeepers to the sixth palace, and because they live in
precarious times under Roman rule, they are afraid to wait for an explanation
until their master emerges from his trance. They ask Rabbi Ishmael to recall
Neh.unyah from his vision to immediately clarify his account. As the heavenly
journey is an intense experience fraught with peril, Rabbi Ishmael must find
a way to call Neh.unyah from his vision without endangering him. Because
impurity is not suffered in the heavenly realm, he finds his means of recall in
a menstruating woman.
Rabbi Ishmael enlists the aid of a woman whose purity status has been
called into question on two counts.61 First, she is suspected of improper im-
mersion in the ritual bath. (Immersion is valid only in the absence of all bar-
riers between a woman’s body and the purifying water). Something precluded
this woman’s full immersion, and she is therefore considered one who im-
mersed herself “but whose immersion has not been successful.”62 She returns
to the miqveh (ritual bath), successfully immerses herself, and should have
become ritually pure. But Rabbi Ishmael and his followers doubt her purity
status. They ask a servant to place a clean piece of white woolen cloth beside
her. No contact with the cloth is suggested. According to normative rabbinic
law, a menstruant can convey impurity by carrying or sitting on an object
but not through mere physical proximity. Here, by contrast, it seems clear
that the cloth, lying next to her, is understood to have contracted some mea-
sure of impurity.63
The rabbis then explore the second reason her purity is suspect. A woman
with fixed periods should conduct an internal examination with a clean white
cloth upon the scheduled onset of her flow (veset). This does not refer to the
actual commencement of the flow, only to the expected time of arrival. Be-
cause this woman did not conduct the initial examination, her purity status
is uncertain. She must, therefore, describe the events surrounding her fixed
period of flow to the company so they may determine her status. According
to the majority opinion in the Talmud, if a woman with fixed periods fails to
examine herself at the scheduled onset of her period, but does so subse-
quently, when the flow actually begins she will be considered ritually pure.64
Consequently, most of the rabbis in the company consider her pure. Only one
dissenting voice supports the minority position in the Talmud.65 Because the
terrestrial legal system is based on majority rule, the woman, as far as halakhic
status is concerned, is deemed pure. The group (h.avurah), however, is not con-
cerned with earthly affairs but the divine realm, which, according to tradition,
upholds minority opinions. Consequently, the h.avurah upholds the dissent-
ing opinion and deems the woman ritually pure on earth, impure in relation
to the heavens.66
Once declared impure from the mystical perspective, the woman is asked
to touch the piece of cloth that lies beside her lightly with her middle finger
so as not to convey leaning (midras) impurity.67 The cloth is then placed on a
bough of myrtle that has been soaked in balsam.68 The group lays this treated
cloth upon Neh. unyah ben Haqanah’s knees, exposing him to a measure of
impurity discernible in the heavens alone. Ritually pure on earth but no lon-
ger sufficiently pure in the divine realm, he is immediately recalled from his
vision.69
This text is significant to this study on two counts: for its insight into the
function of menstrual impurity in early Jewish mysticism, and for the clues it
offers into the character of the authors of Hekhalot literature.70 In the late-
antique world, menstrual impurity was considered a powerful magical force
in its own right.71 It is clear that menstrual impurity is here being used for
magical praxis, and some scholars argue that this story illustrates the purely
magical and extra-halakhic character of merkavah mystics.72 But the purity
system is so central to Judaism that it seems imprudent to consider menstru-
ation apart from its levitical significance in Jewish texts. The first part of this
discussion is clearly informed by halakhah. Magic is not incompatible with
either rabbinic Judaism or with Hekhalot literature; it inheres in both.73 This
nexus of rabbinic Judaism, cultic purity concerns, halakhah, and magic has
led several scholars to believe that the practitioners of Hekhalot mysticism
were a group on the fringes of rabbinic society who were familiar with talmu-
dic and midrashic literature.74 Rachel Elior more specifically identifies these
non-rabbinic mystics as Zadokite priests influenced by the ascetic traditions
at Qumran.75
Indeed, the role of menstrual impurity in Hekhalot literature in general
strongly supports both of these understandings. Hekhalot texts emphasize
seminal pollution over menstrual impurity as the principal barrier to sacred
acts. In fact, it is striking that, given the myriad of ascetic prerequisites for
mystical vision, there is only one explicit prohibition against menstruants
in Hekhalot literature — and this involves seeing rather than touching. One
could argue that avoiding menstruants could be subsumed under the restric-
tions against seeing or speaking with women. Yet given the specific nature of
most of the prerequisites (e.g., not eating onions and garlic, not eating anything
green), it is unlikely that the authors would have neglected details.76 More-
over, one cannot argue that, as men, the Hekhalot authors focused exclusively
on male impurity. For cultic practice, men needed to avoid menstrual impu-
rity as well; husbands had to know the purity status of their wives not only to
avoid sexual relations but also to avoid contracting secondary forms of impu-
rity. The authors of Hekhalot literature had no such concerns. The rabbinic
tension between asceticism and family life is absent in Hekhalot literature. It
is as if we are entering a world where wives do not exist — a world where it is
possible to separate from society for forty days and nights without worrying
about marital obligations; a world where it is possible to fast for twelve con-
secutive days including Shabbat; a world of ascetics on the fringe of rabbinic
society, unconfined by marital obligations, who desire only the merkavah.
Such a separate life would necessarily give rise to purificatory rituals for
baalei qeri and to exhortations to avoid women in general — menstruants per
se would not need to be identified specifically. I have found only one example
of a ritual that specifically refers to avoiding menstruants: before learning
the mysterious name of God, an initiate may not gaze upon a zav, a zavah, a
metsora, or a niddah.77 The concern is not touch: ostensibly the practitioner
is already separated.
the mysterious name of

god and the menstruant
The power of the name of God is one of the central themes in many passages
of Hekhalot literature. Knowledge of the divine name empowers the mystic
to ascend to the heavens, to summon an angel, and to guard against forget-
ting Torah knowledge. Moreover, because God’s essence was identified with
his name, contemplating his name became a way of knowing God. Therefore,
though there is only one known direct proscription to avoid menstruants in
Hekhalot literature, the fact that it appears amid the requirements to learn the
names of God is significant. Menstrual impurity is so antagonistic to heavenly
pursuits that merely seeing a menstruant would impede learning the most
holy of secrets.
Merkavah mystics enlarged upon the cultic purity system in order to engage
in the divine service of the heavens. In contrast to priestly law, however, Hek-
halot literature emphasized avoiding seminal pollution over avoiding men-
strual impurity or niddot. Most references to menstrual impurity are com-
pletely detached from biological woman. It is the symbol, the knowledge, or
the power of the impurity that is at issue. The only Hekhalot ritual that I have
found that specifically refers to avoiding menstruants involves learning the
divine name.78 This absence, however, has more to do with the identity of the
Hekhalot mystics than with unconcern with menstrual impurity. The authors
of Hekhalot literature were likely ascetics informed by priestly custom and
rabbinic law who were not bound by family concerns and, consequently, were
unfettered by family purity laws. When Hekhalot literature becomes ab-
sorbed into “mainstream” Judaism, the balance changes, and menstrual impu-
rity surpasses seminal impurity as the major barrier to heavenly pursuits.

2
The Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah
The Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) is a collection of niddah laws and traditions

traditionally dated to Geonic Palestine that isolates menstruants from ritually
pure human beings and from all things sacred. Although we do not have a
definitive text or known authors,1 many traditions in the BdN emphasize the
antagonism between menstruants and the sacred and therefore strongly sug-
gest an enduring affinity with the Temple, rather than with the contempora-
neous rabbinic house of study. Classical rabbinic texts do include, as we have
seen, restrictions on marital intimacy during menstruation, but the restric-
tions of the BdN are very different in their emphasis and scope. Many assume
that purity is the prerequisite for engagement with the divine in a post-Temple
world and justify these assumptions by enlarging upon the dangers of the
menstruant. Indeed, the BdN’s traditions are similar to the cultic conception
of purity in contemporaneous Hekhalot literature. The two traditions feature
common heroes, similar linguistic style, and magical practices. But while the
Hekhalot practitioners emphasized seminal pollution, the BdN’s even stricter
precautions focus on menstrual impurity.
differences between rabbinic halakhah

and the precepts of the beraita d’niddah
The authors of the BdN emulated the much earlier rabbinic style of the Tosefta
of the mishnaic period, and like Hekhalot literature, many of the BdN’s laws
are attributed to well-known talmudic scholars.2 The similarities to normative
rabbinic literature, however, are solely limited to style and attributions. Where
the Talmud calls for the separation of menstruants from their husbands to
preclude the possibility of illicit sexual relations, the BdN demands the com-
plete isolation of menstruants from all pure human beings and from all things
sacred.
28
Rabbinic law prohibits menstruants from performing only three acts: fill-
ing her husband’s cup, washing his feet, and making his bed — three domestic
responsibilities that might lead to sexual intimacy. Menstruants are permitted
to engage in all other sacred and domestic activities. They are obligated to sep-
arate h.allah and light Sabbath candles and to recite the attendant blessings —
two of three commandments specific to women and traditionally believed to
ward off death during childbirth.3 They are permitted to pray and, according
to one Tosefta, they are permitted to read from the Torah.4 There are only two
passages in the entire Babylonian Talmud that suggest fear of menstruants,
and these may reflect Zoroastrian influence.5 Sexual enticement, rather than
impurity and danger, is the rationale for menstrual separation in the Talmud.
The traditions of the BdN, by contrast, assume that that menstruants are
dangerous and that menstruants must be barred from the sancta.6 For example:
She who observes the laws of niddah neither cooks nor bakes for her hus-
band. And she does not sift flour nor shake out the bed, nor draw water for
him from an earthenware container. Why? Because she is impure and she
pollutes by necessity. Rabbi H.anina said, “even the saliva that she spits out
unto the mattress [pollutes her] husband and sons.” They (menstruating
women) are forbidden entrance to the synagogue until they immerse
themselves. She who has relations with her husband while a niddah will
cause her sons to disinherit the Torah; and that is not all, for she will cause
them to be afflicted with leprosy for one hundred generations.7
A woman who is menstruating may not tend to the h.allah nor may she
light Sabbath candles. Why? Because she would be guilty and would make
her household guilty.8
Rabbi Levi said, “one must not set one’s eyes upon a menstruant.”9
A menstruating woman ought not take out her dough or her baking, nor
should she carry it to the oven, lest she pollute it and a learned scholar eat
it and behold his mind gets mixed up and he forgets his Talmud.10
A woman may not touch a dry utensil nor may she set one foot into a house
that is filled with books nor a house that is prepared for prayer for she is
impure and she pollutes by necessity.11
She must not touch anything holy. She does not have permission to ascend
to her husband’s bed, for there is nothing as holy as her husband’s bed. She
Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah · 29
may not enter a holy sanctuary. She does not have permission to enter
houses of study or synagogues until she is purified.12
According to the BdN, a niddah must separate from her husband because
she is polluted and dangerous. She has the power to cause scholars to forget
their Torah — a great danger in an oral culture — and can inflict her progeny
with leprosy — a living manifestation of corpse decomposition. Menstruants
were not only perceived to be a potential threat to human beings but were
also antinomic to the holy. They could neither separate the h.allah nor light
Sabbath candles, and they were denied entry to synagogues or to homes des-
ignated for prayer.13 They were likewise barred from houses of study and from
homes merely filled with Hebrew books.14 The menstruant’s mere presence
had the power to annul the priestly blessing and to confuse Torah scholars.
She was therefore barred from reciting public and private prayers.15
Rabbinic law requires all women to recite grace after meals and engage in
prayer, and allows all impure persons to engage in silent benedictions.16 The
BdN, by contrast, explicitly forbids menstruants to pray in public and in pri-
vate because of her potential threat to God. Forbidding the impure to pray
silently17 represents an unambiguous shift from rabbinic ideas that cannot be
explained by the BdN’s equation of the synagogue with the Temple. Men-
struants could conceivably be barred from the synagogue as Temple but not
from prayer, a convention that developed independently from cultic practice.
The BdN provides a rationale for the shift in the following.
Rabbi Yoh.annan said, “It is forbidden to inquire about a menstruant’s [lit-

erally, a sitting menstruant’s] welfare, lest she reflect and say ‘amen’ and
blaspheme the name of God.” Rabbi Yodan said, “It is forbidden to pro-
nounce a blessing in front of a sitting menstruant lest she think and say
amen and blaspheme.”18
This “law” seems puzzling at first glance. How could asking about some-
one’s welfare blaspheme the name of God? The answer lies in the interpreta-
tion of the polyvalent word shalom. In addition to its more common usages,
the term may also mean the name of God, as in “the Lord is peace” ( Judges
6:24). For this reason, BT Shabbat 10b forbids men to inquire about people’s
welfare in bathhouses. One is not permitted to think about God in a bathhouse
or in the toilet.19 There is, of course, an essential difference among these paral-
lels. In the Jewish tradition, urine and excrement are considered unclean but
not ritually impure. The BdN, however, does not make a distinction in this
case. One must not inquire about a menstruant’s welfare lest she blasphe-
mously reflect upon God in her state of impurity.
The BdN does make a distinction between the actual menstrual flow and
the prescribed week of separation after the flow ends (known as the white
days). In the excerpt above, it would at first appear that Rabbi Yoh. annan
and Rabbi Yodan repeat the same statement, but a significant detail is missing
in the second instance. In the first, the menstruant is described as “sitting,”
that is, actually bleeding. In the second, she is described merely as a menstru-
ant, presumably in her seven clean days. Note the different effects on God:
when bleeding, she blasphemes the divine name; when she is in the period of
her seven clean days, she desecrates ha-maqom. This Hebrew term, often used
to refer to God, may also literally mean “the place” and may therefore refer
to his dwelling. The menstruant’s degree of impurity affects the degree of her
blasphemy.
The polluted words of the menstruant are distinct from the pure words of
God, whose “every utterance . . . is one of holiness and purity.”20 Because her
very speech was considered impure,21 she could not utter the holy divine
name. She was not only barred from reciting prayers but also from listening
to those of others lest she meditate and say “amen,” a response tantamount
to actually saying the blessing itself.22 The Talmud, by contrast, allows men-
struants to pray at all times — seminal pollution alone raised a barrier to pub-
lic prayer and Torah study.23 Whereas rabbinic niddah restrictions are meant
to preclude the risk of illicit sexual relations, the BdN is driven by a perceived
need to protect male worshippers, sacred sites, and God from menstrual
impurity.
The Talmud categorizes the niddah as one of ten fathers of impurity. Of
these, the rabbis deem corpse pollution the gravest form, “the Father of the
fathers of impurity.” The Talmud associates corpse impurity, rather than men-
strual impurity, with magical practices and impure spirits.24 In keeping with
Leviticus, the rabbis forbade priests all contact with corpse impurity because
this priestly prohibition extends beyond cultic boundaries. Kohanim (priests)
continued to avoid corpse impurity after the destruction of the Temple, and
even now, many descendants of priests will enter neither cemeteries nor homes
containing corpses.25 Priests did not need to be as vigilant in avoiding men-
strual impurity, according to rabbinic sources. For example, according to the
ninth-century rabbinic Midrash Tanh.uma:26
“Their ways are like menstrual impurity unto me.” Like menstrual impu-
rity and not corpse impurity. If there is a corpse in a home a priest may
not enter, but if a menstruant [is in a house], a high priest may enter the
house. The high priest may enter the house with her, and sit with her on
[the same] couch solely that she not be expelled.27
While priests must always avoid corpse impurity, in classical rabbinic texts
like this one, they can approach menstruants because menstrual separation
for cultic ritual was no longer necessary.
Contrary to rabbinic sources, the texts in the BdN establish a nexus be-
tween corpse impurity and menstrual impurity:
If a Kohen were to raise his hands [to recite the priestly blessing] when his
mother is impure or his wife is impure or one of his daughters is impure,
behold the prayers of Israel would become an abomination and he would
cause himself to be lost from the world. Moreover, he would not exempt
Israel from the fulfillment of their duty.28
A rationale for the severity and restrictiveness of the laws of the BdN may
be found in the following:
Rabbi Yoh.annan said, “a man may not walk behind a menstruant and step
upon the dirt (upon which she passed) which is impure. Just as she is im-
pure, her dirt is impure and one may not benefit from the work of her hands.”
This statement is based on a talmudic idea that men should refrain from walk-
ing behind women to defray possible sexual excitement.29 Yet the BdN alters
this focus, concentrating instead on danger of the menstruant. This shift is
even more explicitly articulated in a textual variant that reads:
Rabbi Yoh.annan said, “a man is forbidden to walk behind a niddah and
step upon her dust because just as she (or possibly he that walked over her
ashes) is impure like a dead person, so too are the ashes upon which she
treads impure . . . menstruants, parturients, those who have had miscar-
riages, and those who nurse, are thought to have corpse impurity, the ohel
(overshadowing impurity) and sherets (creeping things). They cannot be-
come purified until they have immersed themselves in a miqveh [ritual
bath]. Priests are therefore not permitted to eat their food. We have made
the laws more strict upon ourselves, and we do not eat food out of the
same platter, nor food made by her hands.”30
In the Second Temple period, many sectarians maintained the priestly
practice of refraining from food that had been touched by impure persons
outside the Temple precincts; and the Jews of Palestine continued to eat
“pure food” after the destruction of the Temple and excluded menstruants
from food preparation. The BdN justifies their continued exclusion from
food preparation by equating menstrual impurity with corpse pollution. An-
other BdN tradition also conflates the flux and corpse purificatory rituals.
Leviticus requires sprinklings of water mixed with the ashes of a red heifer
(mei niddah) to purify corpse impurity; Rabbi H.iyya, however, mourns the
destruction of the Temple because priests can no longer purify zavim, zavot,
and parturients “with sprinklings of water or with the red heifer.”31 Here the
menstruant is given the same status and purificatory requirements as the
father of the fathers of impurity, death itself.32
The great link between death and menstruation may also provide the etiol-
ogy of the BdN’s warning that sexual relations with a menstruating woman
will result in leprous children.33 The association between sexual relations
with menstruants and leprosy first appears in the Jewish tradition in Leviticus
Rabbah, but is repeated many times in the printed version of the BdN. One
pronouncement altars the focus significantly: “Come and see how harmful
menstrual impurity is before the Holy One blessed be He. Anyone who does
not guard himself from a menstruant will contract tsaraat.”34
The phrase “come and see” is a midrashic idiom that announces sinful be-
havior. For example, Midrash Tanh.uma on Korah. reads, “Come and see how
harmful it is to sow the seeds of dissent: whenever anyone foments dissent,
the Holy One blessed be He erases his memory.” Other midrashim use the
“come and see” formula to demonstrate the evils of desecrating God’s name,
gossiping, and dissension among judges.35 This BdN tradition uses a midrashic
convention to illustrate the dangers of the menstruant. The pronouncement
sets up a dichotomy between the menstruant — symbol of death — and the
God of life. Any man who does not respect this distinction will be struck with
tsaraat, the human manifestation of corpse decomposition.36
The identification of corpse pollution with menstrual impurity had three
major consequences for subsequent Jewish practice. First, spirits of impurity
that had been associated with death in near-eastern and late-antique sources
are transferred to the menstruant in the BdN.37 Second, it becomes impossi-
ble for latter-day priests to approach menstruants. And third, the menstruant
as death becomes the opposite of the God of life.
the beraita d’niddah and priestly traditions
The BdN’s antipathy towards menstruants suggests a priestly connection.
Though Leviticus suppresses a common ancient near-eastern belief in the
demonic possession of menstruants,38 an association between menstruation,
death, and evil remained entrenched in the priestly imagination. Milgrom
notes the association between menstruation and death in Leviticus: since
“the life of the flesh is in the blood” (Lev. 17:11), the loss of menstrual blood
may be understood as the death of a potential life.39 This nexus between men-
struation and death may underlie the perceived need to separate menstruants
from God in the Israelite Temple cult. Yahweh is the God of life and blood
is the material means by which he vivifies. Menstruants represent death and
must, therefore, remain separate from the sancta.
Priestly sources used the term niddah as a symbol of evil — a metaphor
to describe total separation from the sacred. Lamentations explains that after
the destruction, “Zion spreads out her hands, and there is none to comfort
her: the Lord commanded against Jacob, adversaries round about him. Jeru-
salem is like a menstruous woman" (1:17). Verse 1:8 describes Jerusalem “like
a niddah” because of her sins. In Babylonia, Ezekiel compared idolatry to
menstruants, stating, “you will treat as impure the silver overlay of your im-
ages and the golden plating of your idols. You will cast them out like a men-
struous woman” (7:19–20).40 And after return, Ezra, scribe and priest, de-
scribed the land of Israel as a “land of niddah,” polluted by the menstruous
deeds of the people of the land (9:11).” The post-exilic priestly source Second
Zechariah, dated to the fifth century BCE, most explicitly attests to the aver-
sion between menstruation and the divine. Zechariah 13:1 explains that the
spirit of impurity will only flow from the land at the eschaton, when “a foun-
tain shall be open to the House of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem for
h.attaat u-le-niddah.41 Despite the priestly aversion to near-eastern demonology,
these biblical priestly sources reflect a perennial distaste for the menstruant.
Qumran sectarians, who claim priestly descent, similarly equated menstrual
impurity with the unholy. The Qumran community describe themselves as
Zadokites, the authentic heirs of the Solomonic priesthood, and they devel-
oped an alternative purity system based on their own maximalist interpre-
tation of the purity laws of Leviticus.42 Fragment 4Q 274, on ritual purity
and dated to the first century BCE, urges menstruants not to “mingle (with
others) during her seven days so as not to contaminate the ca[m]ps of the
sanct[ities of] Israel; also she is not to touch any woman with a blood flow
lasting man[y] days.”43 Some Qumran sources envisioned barring all women
access to an impurity-free Jerusalem in the messianic age. The ideal Temple
would extend well beyond Mount Moriah to the borders of the city of Jeru-
salem itself. Because God would dwell within this expanded area, only the
ritually pure would be granted entry.44 The priests in the Temple Scroll bar
menstruants and those with niddah-like uncleanness from the idealized Tem-
ple just as the biblical priests barred those with corpse impurity, scale disease,
and genital discharges from the camp (Numbers 5:1–4).45
Moreover, where priestly sources in the Bible had metaphorized menstrual
impurity as sin, Qumran literature equates menstrual impurity with sinful-
ness.46 Because man is born of women, he is the “mystery of carnality and the
source of menstruation”47 and he is bound to “human impurity.”48 Sins “are
like menstruation in His (God’s) eyes.”49 The pure seek justice, possess pure
thoughts, and “separate themselves from all manifestations of menstrua-
tion.”50 Purity/holiness and impurity thus became a means of self-definition51
and eventually became bound up with their dualistic mythology.52 Indeed,
afflicting demons were often described as spirits of impurity. For example, the
“Plea for Deliverance 19 (11QPsa),” entreats “Let not Satan rule over me, nor
an impure spirit.”53 The War Scroll describes evil spirits as committing “works
of menstrual impurity.”54 The Rule of the Community identifies the impure
spirit with menstrual deeds and describes sinners “wallowing in a spirit of
niddah.”55 Exorcism through prayer became a means of defense against these
impure demons. In one liturgical text, the sage adjures the power of God to
frighten and to terrify all “spirits of the angels of destruction, and the spirits
of bastards . . . to prevent all polluted sin.” These spirits of bastards are signifi-
cantly described as “impure as their menstruation.”56 Another liturgical text
attests to the exorcism of “bastards, and the spirits of impurity” (mamzerim
ve-ruh.ot ha tumah).57 Thus impurity is reified into an ungodly source in
Qumran literature.58
After the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, late-antique Juda-
ism was not limited to the rabbinic tradition.59 Pagan motifs in Galilean syna-
gogues and priestly imagery in liturgical poetry attest to late-antique Jewry’s
diverse spirituality.60 The BdN’s traditions emerge in this chaotic post-Temple
period in which all Jews needed to forge new identities. The rabbis, for exam-
ple, metaphorized Temple cult practice into Torah study and prayer, and de-
voted two-thirds of the Mishnah to legal explication of cultic laws.61 Hekhalot
literature transferred Temple cult rituals to the heavens in an elaborate set of
mystical and magical narratives. The BdN similarly focused on the enduring
relevance of purity and the Temple cult for engagement with the divine, but
its focus is primarily legal. Nevertheless, the BdN’s many discussion of priests
and purity speak to its specific interests in the antinomy between menstrual
impurity and all things sacred and suggest an enduring affinity with the Tem-
ple cult. Just as menstruants had been barred from the Temple Mount, they
were now barred from all forms of Jewish spirituality in the post-Temple
world. The Torah Scroll, Jewish books, and houses of study became new ho-
lies of holies. These sacred objects were a means of knowing God and, as such,
a means of communing with God. Consequently, the BdN required its read-
ers to obey purity rituals that had once been limited to priests.
the beraita d’niddah’s similarity to hekhalot

The BdN’s priestly emphasis on purity and the sacred most closely corre-
sponds to that found in Hekhalot literature. The need to separate the men-
struant from the sacred as Temple is similar to the need to bar her, or those
polluted by her, from a heavenly realm designated as the Holy of Holies. As
we saw in chapter 1, merkavah mystics conceived of themselves as latter-day
high priests whose physical purity was the essential prerequisite for ascent to
the celestial throne or to adjure an angel to teach the secrets of Torah.62
Saul Lieberman was the first scholar to associate the strict purity laws of
the BdN with the legal philosophy formulated in Hekhalot literature,63 and
Michael Swartz and Rebecca Lesses have noted a connection between the
BdN and the ascetic rituals required for Sar Torah adjurations.64 I believe that
there is an even stronger connection. The BdN not only informs the ascetic
rituals in some Hekhalot texts but also independently reflects a mystical con-
sciousness. The authors of the traditions in the BdN, like the authors of Hek-
halot literature, were trying to discover a viable spiritual solution to a Judaism
without a Temple. The rabbis had their Talmud. But the authors of the BdN
and Hekhalot materials were “ambivalent” toward rabbinic halakhah. They
did not sublimate Temple cult symbols, but enlarged upon them, making the
Temple and the Torah the essential aspects of religious life. Indeed, traditions
in the BdN focus on priestly contact with menstruants, offer anecdotes about
high priests, and endow Jewish ritual objects with sacred status. The BdN’s
authors, like merkavah mystics, were likely a scholarly group with a strong
priestly base who were informed by rabbinic culture but not bound to it.65
Palestinian liturgical poets in the seventh century and later medieval mystics
certainly assumed a connection between the two,66 for when Hekhalot and
BdN traditions were transmitted to Europe, mystics employed the ascetic
requirements of the BdN for the pursuit of merkavah.
The BdN and Hekhalot literature represent two faces of the same coin with
respect to ritual purity. There is, however, one essential difference in their
attitude toward impurity. Hekhalot literature assumes no demonic aspect to
impurity. Impurity only affects man’s relationship with God. Physical pollu-
tions disqualifies the adept from divine pursuits and can imperil the mystic
while on a heavenly journey, but it poses no danger to other human beings.
The BdN, by contrast, propounds that the menstruant is anathema to both
God and man, and this is the understanding that is bequeathed to medieval
Europe.
the heroes of the h. avurah story

in the beraita d’niddah
Part One — Rabbi Ishmael
Many scholars have explained the magic and halakhic ethos of the h.avurah
story in Hekhalot Rabbati in light of the BdN. Yet there is an even greater
overlap between these traditions. The heroes of the h.avurah story, Rabbi Ish-
mael the high priest and Neh.unyah ben Haqanah figure prominently in the
BdN, and comparing these traditions will throw light on the many similarities
between the literatures and their one essential difference.
Rabbi Ishmael, the member of the h.avurah who conceives of the method
of safely extracting Neh.unyah ben Haqanah from ecstasy is often associated
with female purity in rabbinic sources. Traditions of his birth are based on
folk wisdom about influencing the fetus. Sexual position, state of mind, mod-
esty, purity, and perceptions that entered the body by the eyes were all be-
lieved to be especially important for the conception of healthy and learned
children.67 Observing the laws of purity contributed to that effort,68 but those
who observed ritual requirements were not immune to danger. Women would
guard their eyes upon their return from the miqveh, because anything they saw
would affect the fetus they were going to create. For example, it was thought
that should a woman see a dog, the child she conceived would resemble a
dog.69 Alternatively, should a woman see a beautiful and learned man, she
would conceive a handsome and wise son. The talmudic scholar Rabbi Yo-
h.annan would intentionally sit at the gates of the miqveh so that women leav-
ing the ritual bath might see him and conceive children with both his knowl-
edge and his good looks.70
According to a BdN tradition,71 Rabbi Ishmael’s mother had the misfor-
tune always to encounter unsightly objects upon her return from the ritual
bath. Afraid to inflict harm on any child she might conceive, she apparently
abstained from sexual relations. God pitied her and sent Metatron, “the heav-
enly angel par excellence” and hero of much of Hekhalot literature,72 to sit
outside the miqveh so that she might gaze upon his face and conceive a son
with his beauty and his merits. Consequently, she bore a son named Ishmael,
who was both handsome and wise.73
Metatron maintained an interest in young Ishmael long after preparing his
conception. According to one account, Metatron held Ishmael on his lap
during the ritual of circumcision (sandaq), thereby becoming his spiritual
parent or godfather.74 As spiritual guide, Metatron not only facilitated Ish-
mael’s entrance into the covenant of Abraham but also taught him the divine
name, the key to the supernal realm, which Ishmael would use before he as-
cended to the heavens or adjured an angel. Several versions conclude with an
account of Ishmael’s adjuration of Hadraniel, Sar ha-Panim.75
Rabbi Ishmael was often described as vigilantly separating himself from
menstrual impurity.76 And he was associated with purity concerns not only in
birth and life, but in death.77 Among the ten tannaitic martyrs executed by the
Romans, Rabbi Ishmael was imprisoned with Rabbi Shimon, who was trou-
bled by their impending execution. Shimon explained that although he did
not fear death, he did not wish to be executed “like murderers and Sabbath
breakers” (several texts include idol worshippers and sexual transgressors in
this list). Rabbi Ishmael responded that they no doubt deserved their fate be-
cause there was certainly a time during which they were not free to answer a
woman’s questions concerning her menstrual impurity.78
Rabbi Ishmael’s spiritual success is directly related to his mother’s obser-
vance of niddah laws.79 The perceived causal relationship between proper ob-
servance of family purity and mystical vision is therefore the subject of sev-
eral of the statements attributed to him in the BdN. For example, he claims
that menstrual impurity is so damaging that exposure will lead men to hell
and that the wise woman will discourage her husband’s approaches during her
menstrual flow in order to facilitate his entry into paradise.80 Yet the term
paradise is vague. Does it mean mystical practice? May these virtuous men
follow Ishmael’s example and enter the celestial realm while living, or must
they wait until after death?
Rabbi Ishmael clears up this confusion in a subsequent statement, explain-
ing that the secrets of Torah will be granted to men who observe the laws of
niddah. These “secrets,” which include the ability to distinguish between the
impure and the pure and to discern inner meanings, parallel the knowledge
acquired by successful adjurants of the Sar Torah.81 This statement therefore
introduces a preparatory ritual neglected in most Hekhalot techniques. Ac-
cording to the BdN, scriptural secrets, a veiled allusion to mystical knowledge,
may only be achieved by strict isolation from the niddah. Such an antagonism
between menstruants and the attainment of wisdom echoes a text in the Ge-
onic Sefer ha-Miqtsoot, in which Rabbi Aqiva is said to have believed that he
had attained glorious wisdom by three practices: he did not harbor sinful
thoughts, he did not look upon priests while they were chanting the priestly
blessing, and he did not speak with women while they were menstruating.82
In Hekhalot literature, as noted by Michael Swartz, Rabbi Ishmael’s own
“ ‘enlightenment’ not only consists of spiritual or intellectual insight, or en-
compassing wisdom; he has also been blessed by the angel with an excep-
tional memory.” Swartz has emphasized the role of memory in Hekhalot
writings and has shown that “one of the Sar Torah’s most precious gifts to the
practitioner is a spectacular memory.”83
Forgetfulness was particularly debilitating in cultures that depended on
memory rather than the written word. Here, too, Rabbi Ishmael’s scrupulous-
ness about purity concerns may be part of what is seen to protect him, as the
BdN emphasizes that menstrual impurity poses a threat not only to Torah
knowledge but also to memory. Eating food polluted by a niddah is said to
cause a scholar to forget his Torah.84
Part Two — H.anina/ Neh.unyah

A tradition in the BdN, also enlarges upon the bearing of the most promi-
nent figure in the h. avurah story, Neh.unyah ben Haqanah. While out walking,
H.anina, a probable reference to Neh.unyah,85 encountered a woman and im-
mediately hid his face. The woman drew back three cubits and asked the rabbi
whether blood that resembles the fluid of garlic or onions renders women
impure. H.anina/Neh.unyah replied that she ought to spread dry mustard on
the blood. If the fluid rises above the mustard she is a niddah; if not, she is
pure.86
In keeping with the talents of Hekhalot mystics, Neh.unyah/H.aninah is
able to discern people’s purity status by sight and smell.87 Realizing she was
a menstruant, he immediately covers his eyes — thereby trying to follow
the Hekhalot precept that one who wishes to learn the holy name of God
should not look at a menstruant.88 Perceiving his discomfort, she immedi-
ately withdraws a significant distance but does not leave. She continues to
question H.anina because she knows that successful Hekhalot mystics, like
the rabbis, were endowed with the ability to “recognize bloods and to show
menstruants what to do.”89 Because she was uncertain of her purity status, she
was obliged to describe her discharge so that he might determine whether
she was niddah.
The woman’s comparison of her flow to a household item or vaginal dis-
charge to foodstuffs was common in rabbinic literature. To distinguish be-
tween the pure and impure, the Rabbis took pains to give precise and recog-
nizable descriptions of the five colors of impure blood.90 They compared
blood to common fluids, ranging from black ink to a diluted form of a wine
grown in the Sharon Valley. It is interesting, however, that she compares her
discharge to the liquid of onions and garlic in particular. Hekhalot mystics
may have been forbidden to eat vegetables because of their strong scent.91
Presumably such strong smells would annoy angels, who could not suffer the
stench of man.92 Garlic and onions are pungent, and menstrual blood may
have been perceived as equally pungent. Indeed, according to BT Niddah 63b,
onions stimulate the menstrual cycle.93 Moreover, certain rabbis in the Tal-
mud were able to determine the purity status of blood through smell alone.94
Just as angels immediately discern the scent of man, H.anina/Neh. unyah per-
ceives that the woman is niddah before she speaks. The association between
the two in the passage suggests another rationale for heavenly travelers to
avoid menstrual blood.
the menstruant and the name

of god in the beraita d’niddah
The story of H.anina/Neh.unyah demonstrates familiarity with Hekhalot
mystical practices, as well. Mystical practitioners would adjure a Sar Torah or
ascend to heaven by means of one of the most potent magical tools known
in antiquity — the divine name.95 Yet in addition to its ritual function, the
name of God is also identified with God himself. According to the macro-
form Maaseh Merkavah,
He [is] his name
and his name is he [is]
“he [is]” in “he [is],”
and his name in his name.96
Significantly, the sole reference to avoiding menstruants in Hekhalot litera-
ture occurs in the description of an ascetic technique to learn the holy name
of God.97 In order to learn the divine name, the adept must “not look at the
face of a menstruating woman, nor eat the bread, nor drink the water of
women . . . He must not eat onions and garlic or vegetables.” That this regi-
men contains the three basic components of the H.anina/Neh. unyah story —
averting the face of menstruants and onions and garlic98 — suggests a direct
connection between Hekhalot literature and the BdN.
The divine name is the mystical focus of the BdN. In chapter 3:2, “God”
states that men may come closer to “my name” only through vigilant obser-
vance of menstrual laws and self-purification.99 While the phrase “closer to
my name” may refer to apprehension of the divine name for mystical praxis, it
more likely refers to divine vision. Elliot Wolfson has shown that in Hekhalot
literature “the form of God is subsumed under the names of God, such that
knowledge of the name replaces the vision of the glory as the goal of the mys-
tic.” Hence, according to Wolfson, “to behold the King in his beauty — to
gaze upon the enthroned form of God — is effectively to have a vision of the
divine names.”100 Thus, in the BdN, one can draw close to the name of God,
that is, achieve a mystical vision, only through self-purification and obser-
vance of menstrual laws.
An anonymous compiler of niddah laws underscores the importance of
this idea in an exegesis of Leviticus 20:26, where he explains that God exhorts
the faithful to observe menstrual laws in order to be “holy to me.”101
“What is ‘to me’ to my name. Just as my name is holy so too must you be
holy because I am holy.”102
This text not only identifies God with his name in the context of separating
from menstruants but also describes the need to separate from menstruants
as a form of imitatio dei. Man must separate from menstrual impurity and be
holy, just as God must separate from menstrual impurity because he is holy.103
The BdN’s emphasis on the antagonism between God’s name and men-
strual impurity foreshadows an important development in Jewish mysticism
that will have far-reaching implications for menstruants’ access to the sacred.
The tetragrammaton was equated with God’s ontic nature; his place (maqom),
with the Holy of Holies. This identification rationalizes the BdN’s need to
sacralize all objects that contain the holy name. Holy books containing God’s
name are like the Holy of Holies in a world without a Temple. They demand
purity and menstruants must be barred.
The antagonism between menstrual impurity and divine pursuits suggested

in Hekhalot literature is most fully expressed in BdN traditions. The BdN
combines two distinct understandings of menstrual impurity: (1) the impor-
tance of purity for divine pursuits and (2) the notion that menstruants are
possessed by an impure spirit.104 The importance of purity for divine pursuits
is akin to the understandings of impurity in Hekhalot literature. Indeed, if we
understand the authors of the Beraita as informed by Hekhalot literature, the
ferocity of its laws become more comprehensible. Its authors are envisioning
not only an earthly but a heavenly Temple. These latter-day high priests of the
heavens must avoid niddot at all costs because their impurity rivals corpse im-
purity and will bar them from their ultimate goal — vision of the divine name.
The sole proscription against seeing menstruants in Hekhalot literature
appears in an ascetic regimen for learning the divine name. The BdN enlarges
upon this proscription and justifies it through reinterpretations of rabbinic
law. Hence, like the authors of Hekhalot literature, the authors of the tradi-
tions of the BdN are likely a group informed by rabbinic halakhah and priestly
traditions but not bound by the beit midrash. Later medieval mystics did not
differentiate between the different literatures and incorporated both Hekha-
lot material and the BdN into normative Jewish tradition. In medieval Jewish
mystical contemplation, for example, the four-wheeled merkavah retains its
significance and becomes identified with contemplation of the tetragramma-
ton. Knowledge of the divine name is not only a magical means to attain a
vision but is also itself the object of contemplation. Thus, the traditions of
the BdN become prerequisite for achieving mystical vision, and the BdN be-
came the document that legitimized Jewish women’s exclusion from mystical
practice.
3
Menstruation and the
Mystics of Ashkenaz
The emphasis on human purity for mystical pursuits characteristic of the

originally Palestinian traditions recorded in Hekhalot literature and the Be-
raita d’Niddah (BdN) influenced Jewish exoteric and esoteric piety among
the burgeoning Jewish communities of the Mediterranean basin. Jews, who
moved farther north to pursue economic opportunities in the Frankish em-
pires, retained their Temple nostalgia and described their communities in
cultic terms. These Ashkenazic communities maintained purity laws often
ignored by their brethren in the East. The mystics among them were partic-
ularly vigilant in the observance of sexual purity laws. The German Pietists
or H.asidei Ashkenaz, a revivalist and mystical group in the Rhineland in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, were particularly vigilant in their observance
of menstrual laws; indeed H.asidei Ashkenaz incorporated its non-rabbinic
strictures into their halakhic treatises and mystical praxis. The stricture of
their niddah practices were not only a sociological phenomenon; it also re-
flected a new development in their mystical theology. Against the backdrop
of the traditions of the BdN, H.asidei Ashkenaz cultivated a bisexual con-
ception of the Godhead, an innovation that would eventually influence
theosophical Kabbalah. Once mystics conceive of an aspect of God as femi-
nine, female biology can become significant in both the human and the di-
vine realm.
the bdn on the mediterranean

We have precious little evidence for the history and theology of Jews in early
medieval Europe. But the evidence that we do have strongly suggests that
they were influenced by Palestinian Jewish culture and early Jewish mysti-
cism. The ninth-century southern French bishop, Agobard of Lyon, describes
43
the beliefs of his Jewish neighbors in terms identical to those found in Shiur
Qomah literature and merkavah mysticism.1
The eleventh-century Scroll of Ah.imaats (Megillat Ah.imaats), an Italian
family history embedded in a string of fabulous tales,2 describes Merkavah
traditions as an integral part of elite Byzantine Jewish culture, and the nar-
ratives, though not historical, teach us significant aspects of early medieval
mystical practice.3 Indeed, Ah.imaats offers one of the earliest examples of
the influence of the ethos of the BdN on European soil — an ethos that would
directly influence H.asidei Ashkenaz.4 After a discussion of his illustrious an-
cestors Ammitai, Shefatiah, and Abdiel, Ah.imaats describes the demise of his
relative Barukh as follows:
Abdiel had a son whose name was Barukh, who was not as learned in the
Torah as his fathers had been. In his home, Barukh kept Sefer ha-Merkavah
(Book of the Chariot) which R. Shefatiah had used all his life. One day,
as darkness fell on the eve of the Sabbath, [the day] on which God rested
from all His work, there was no one to kindle the light before Sefer ha-
Merkavah. A woman who was cursed, she was niddah, kindled the light
before the Torah — may she be blotted from the book of life and kept out
of the world to come. [Consequently] the wrath of God fell upon that fam-
ily. Many died of plague; only a few survived. There was a Jew among them
who was an expert; he recognized and understood the significance of the
event. He seized the book, put it into a leaden case and [went to the sea] in
order to cast it into the abyss. [As he stood near the shore] the water im-
mediately receded a mile. The Jew then threw the case into the sea. The
waters returned to their bounds, the evil decree was immediately annulled,
and the plague ceased. But the memory of Barukh perished; his lamp was
extinguished; he left no one to engage in Torah study.5
The tale justifies the end of the line of Barukh — euphemistically named
“blessed” in Hebrew — the undeserving offspring of a scholarly family, and
the author’s notion that a menstruant’s approaching a holy book could bring
about a catastrophe perpetuates an important theme found in early Jewish
mysticism. Ah.imaats’s ancestors were students of Jewish mysticism who “knew
the secrets and uncovered the principles of H.okhmah (Wisdom) and Binah
(Understanding); they were enlightened by Sefer Yashar and saw the secrets
of the divine chariot.”6 As adepts, they were certainly familiar with the impor-
tance of purity within the mystical and magical system. Ah.imaats’s juxtaposi-
tion of the menstruant and a Sefer ha-Merkavah is not accidental.7 Rather, it
deliberately frames a family tragedy in the cultural terms of Hekhalot litera-
ture and the BdN.
The menstruant in the Scroll causes the plague by performing two acts: She
kindles a light on the Sabbath eve and she approaches a work of merkavah
mysticism. Ah.imaats does not describe the first act clearly. The niddah may
either have kindled the Sabbath lamp or lit a type of eternal lamp (ner tamid)
near a Sefer ha-Merkavah. If she lit Sabbath candles, one of three acts specifi-
cally required of women in rabbinic law, she transgressed a precept of the
BdN. But Ah.imaats says nothing of Sabbath lights or of the recitation of a
blessing.8 Further, according to the BdN, a niddah who kindles Sabbath lights
incurs guilt and inflicts guilt upon her family, but the niddah of the Scroll un-
leashes a catastrophe. Her offense, it would seem, may have had more to do
with the Sefer ha-Merkavah than with Sabbath lights. The Sefer ha-Merkavah
is described as a holy book, meaning the taboo against menstruants in the
presence of the divine that is prominent in the Hekhalot literature and in the
BdN could apply here. Just as the slightest taint of menstrual impurity could
interrupt a heavenly vision and cause bodily harm, so too the menstruant’s
performance of a ritual act in the presence of a holy book could have the power
to cause a plague.
The menstruant in the Scroll may have sinned by approaching the Sefer
ha-Merkavah and lighting an eternal flame or some other type of lamp cus-
tomarily lit before the Torah. The practice of the eternal flame began in talmu-
dic times as a reminder of the continuously lit Temple menorah. Originally
placed in the western wall of the synagogue, like the menorah, the ner tamid
was soon moved to the front of the Torah ark. The faithful gradually expanded
the custom and began to illuminate the Torah in all places as a sign of the
“light” of the law.9 In the Scroll, Ah.imaats may have extended the practice of
the ner tamid to the Sefer ha-Merkavah. Significantly, he uses the terms Torah
and Sefer ha-Merkavah interchangeably here.10 In a culture in which esoteric
lore and magic were highly valued, a Sefer ha-Merkavah may have been ac-
corded the same honor as or even greater honor than the canonic Torah. H.ai
Gaon, for example, describes Hekhalot Zutarti as a mishnah. This elevation of
the status of mystical texts appears in the Hekhalot literature itself in many
references to books of mysteries as “torah” or “mishnah.”11
Among medieval mystics, mystical books were thought to capture the di-
vine essence. They could be considered as sacred as the Torah scroll because
Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 45
they contain divine names often identified with God’s ontic nature and de-
scribe divine theophanies to be reexperienced by the adept. As such, they
function as the Holy of Holies in a world without a Temple, becoming the
locus of divine sanctity and providing the hope of divine communion. Ritual
purity in their presence is essential. In Hekhalot Zutarti, Suria, the angel of the
countenance (sar ha-panim) taught Rabbi Ishmael, “If one is careful because
of this book and purifies himself, angels, assemblies of serafim, stars and con-
stellations, and the throne of glory will all love him. And the righteous and
upright and the fathers of the world will pray for his life and bequeath the
garden of Eden to him.”12 A niddah who approaches a Sefer ha-Merkavah is
neither “careful” nor “purified.”13 The BdN forbids a menstruating woman
even to set foot into a house that is filled with books that contain the divine
name.14 The menstruant in the Scroll would therefore have violated the spirit
of the Hekhalot adjuration and the laws of the BdN when she kindled a lamp
before a Sefer ha-Merkavah.15 According to the BdN and Hekhalot mysti-
cism, a menstruating woman was not only forbidden to light Sabbath candles,
she was also barred from the sancta. In a system where purity is the key to the
divine realm and pollution a barrier, a menstruant’s performance of a ritual
act in the presence of a Sefer ha-Merkavah would bring impurity into the
proximity of a holy book.
Ah.imaats’s description of the epidemic and its cure reveals the terms in
which menstrual pollution was understood in southern Italy. The wise man
cures the plague by placing the Sefer ha-Merkavah into a lead casing and
throwing it into a body of fresh water. This act strikingly echoes another story
in the Scroll, in which a demon is exorcised with a very similar procedure. In
that story, Basil I asked Ah.imaats’s ancestor Rabbi Shefatiah, the first owner
of the Sefer ha-Merkavah, to cure his daughter who was possessed. Rabbi
Shefatiah took the princess to a pure, secluded place. He then invoked the
divine name, and the demon “immediately came forth and tried to escape but
he [Shefatiah] caught it and put it into a leaden chest. Shefatiah covered the
chest on all sides and sealed it with the name of his Maker. He then dropped
it into the sea, and let it sink into the mighty waters.”16
Illness and physical pollution were commonly attributed to possession by
evil and impure spirits in the Middle Ages, and exorcists attempted to heal
the sick by freeing their bodies of malevolent and impure forces. The BdN
similarly suggests a belief in the possession of menstruants by spirits of impu-
rity. We may therefore infer that the niddah in the Scroll, like menstruants in
the BdN, was considered possessed by a spirit of impurity, and this polluted
the Sefer ha-Merkavah. Exorcism was the only means to cast out that spirit
and to stop the plague the spirit had unleashed.17 Following the exorcism rit-
ual of Rabbi Shefatiah, the “expert” placed the polluted Sefer ha-Merkavah
into a lead casing, considered impermeable to demons,18 and in a frontal at-
tack upon evil spirits, threw it into a body of fresh water, a purificatory agent
for man and a means of neutralizing magical states. The water receded for al-
most a mile, and the plague was stayed.19
The menstruant in Megillat Ah.imaats’s tale combines the cultic purity
concerns of Hekhalot literature with the need to separate menstruants from
the sancta that is characteristic of the BdN. But the equation of the Sefer ha-
Merkavah with the Torah scroll, indeed, by analogy with the Holy of Holies
in the Temple cult, brings the need to separate menstruants from the sacred
in the realm of the everyday. And more importantly for this study, the tale
shows rabbinic Jews and mystics believing as early as 1054 that the failure to
separate menstruants from the sancta had dangerous consequences.
the temple in ashkenaz

When some Italian Jews left Italy for Northern Europe in the early Middle
Ages,20 they disseminated their cultic focus and mystical beliefs. Ashkenazic
Jews, like their forebears in Palestine, harbored a “cultic nostalgia.”21 They
considered their community holy and associated the synagogue with the
Temple.22 It is therefore not surprising that sexual purity and worship are of
primary concern in several of the halakhic works compiled by the students of
the great talmudic and biblical commentator, Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh.aqi (Rashi)
after his death in 1104. For example, although Ashkenazi legal compendia are
famous for their disorganization, Sefer ha- Orah, begins with the laws of semi-
nal emissions, and the contemporaneous Sefer ha-Pardes begins with men-
strual laws. These and other collections of laws from the school of Rashi re-
cord that many niddot would neither enter synagogues nor touch the Torah.23
Though the anonymous authors admit that women need not act in this way
since the synagogue is not the same as the Holy Temple, they nonetheless
laud the women’s piety, stating “[the synagogue] is a place of purity, and they,
therefore, act properly.”24 In fact, one manuscript fragment of the Sefer ha-
Pardes admires women who would not even look at the Torah scroll while a
niddah.25 Although these twelfth-century Ashkenazi sources clearly state that
there is no halakhic basis for this practice, separation from the sacred is none-
theless described as a laudable expression of women’s piety.26
Contemporaneous Sephardi communities, by contrast, did not accept the
isolation of menstruants from the sancta.27 In fact, Nitronai Gaon believed that
menstruants who refrain from prayer contradict talmudic law because ac-
cording to BT Bekhorot 27a, menstruants must separate the h.allah — an act
that requires a blessing. Nitronai concludes that though a menstruant is for-
bidden to perform certain household functions, she is not exempt from her
duties to God.28 Moreover, the Geonim of Babylonia under the influence of
the dominant Muslim culture imposed short-lived additional regulations sep-
arating husbands and their menstruating wives, such as barring menstruants
from food preparation and from family meals. They do not restrict menstru-
ants’ spiritual opportunities — an omission that is particularly striking be-
cause Islamic menstruants not only refrained from certain domestic duties but
were barred from mosques and ritual prayer.29 The eleventh-century North
African halakhic codifier Isaac Alfasi explicitly states that a niddah must
pray.30 Maimonides does not even mention the practice of excluding men-
struants from the sancta in his Mishneh Torah, and he explicitly condemns the
practice of isolating menstruants in his Guide of the Perplexed.31
The contrast between medieval Ashkenazim and Sephardim regarding the
isolation of menstruants from the sancta is noteworthy. On the whole, Ash-
kenazi women enjoyed greater freedom than their Sephardi sisters. Moreover,
Sephardi Jews were familiar with the purity rituals ubiquitous in Islamic cul-
ture and must have known that menstruating Muslim women were barred
from mosques and from ritual prayer.32 Why then, did Sephardi Jews permit
menstruants to engage in sacred acts, while Ashkenazi Jews, living in Chris-
tian society where menstrual laws had lost much of their significance, isolate
menstruants from the holy?
The answer lies partly in the Ashkenazi focus on the Temple cult, a legacy
of their Palestinian origins, but the divergence in menstrual customs between
Ashkenaz and Sepharad must also be understood within the context of the
Jewish mystical tradition. As noted above, the founders of the Jewish com-
munities in Ashkenaz inherited Hekhalot and BdN mystical traditions from
their Italian forebears that, together with the importance of purity for divine
pursuits, became an ingrained part of Ashkenazic culture.33 Because custom
in Ashkenaz was often given the force of law, even halakhists who were not
necessarily mystics lauded menstruants who separated themselves from the
sacred.34 Eleazar of Worms (d. 1217), however, was the first Ashkenazi hala-
khist to call for the isolation of menstruants from the sacred, and he felt the
need to justify his position in the name of “Maaseh ha-Geonim.” Few later
Ashkenazi halakhists forbid menstruants access to the sancta outright.35
But the force of custom alone is insufficient to explain Eleazar’s explicit
transformation of a laudable expression of piety into law.36 Eleazar of Worms
was not only an ascetic and a halakhist but a mystic for whom purity was
essential to achieve divine vision. The traditions of the BdN, transmitted by
his family and rooted in mystical traditions and Temple cult concerns were
the obvious choice for his mystical practice and informed by his mystical the-
ology. Eleazar infused a twelfth-century spiritual practice with the force of
law, and, in so doing, directly influenced the opportunities of Ashkenazic and
Eastern European Jewish women in later Jewish mysticism.37
the bdn and the mysticism

of h. asidei ashkenaz
The spirit of the BdN is clearly expressed in the writings of the German Pi-
etists, direct descendants of the Qalonimides, a prominent family of Italian
Jewish scholars that migrated to the Rhineland in the early Middle Ages.38
Though the German Pietists thrived in the Rhineland for a relatively short
period,39 their influence on Jewish mysticism extended far beyond the span
of their active period. Not only did their esoteric theology (torat ha-sod) pro-
foundly influence the development of Spanish Kabbalah,40 but their peniten-
tial practices indirectly influence Jewish piety to this day.41
The German Pietists were influenced by their Italian ancestors and ac-
knowledged the debt in their foundation legend:
They received the esoteric traditions about the arrangement of the prayers
as well as other esoteric traditions, rabbi from rabbi, all the way back to
Abu Aaron, the son of R. Samuel the Prince [ha-nasi], who left Babylonia
because of a certain incident and he was therefore required to travel all
over the world [as a penance]. He came to the land of Lombardy, to a cer-
tain city called Lucca. He there found our Rabbi Moses who composed
the liturgical poem “emat nora otekha,” and he transmitted all of his eso-
teric traditions. This is R. Moses bar Qalonimos, son of Meshullam b. R.
Qalonimos b. R. Judah. [Now R. Moses] was the first who emigrated from
Lombardy, he and his sons, R. Qalonimos and R. Yequtiel, and his relative
R. Itiel, as well as the rest of the people who counted. All of them were
taken from Lombardy by King Charles who resettled them in Mainz.
There they grew to prodigious numbers until 1096 when the Lord visited
His wrath upon the holy communities. Then were we all destroyed, utterly
destroyed, except for a few of our relatives who survived including R. Qa-
lonimos the Elder. He transmitted [the esoteric traditions] — as we have
written — to Rabbi Eleazar H.azan of Speyer. R. Eleazar H.azan transmitted
them to R. Samuel the Pietist and R. Samuel the Pietist transmitted them
to R. Judah the Pietist. And from him did I, the insignificant one [ha-
qatan], receive the esoteric traditions about the prayers as well as the
other traditions.42
The antagonism between menstruants and the sacred expressed in the Scroll
of Ah.imaats was one of these esoteric traditions.
In fact, H.asidei Ashkenaz borrowed the motif of the niddah from the
Scroll to explain Judah the Pietist’s move from Speyer to Regensburg in the
twelfth century. Asher ben Yeh. iel, or another student of the German Tosaf-
ist, Rabbi Meir of Rothenberg (1215–1293),43 records the Pietist tradition as
follows:
Rabenu Samuel the Pietist, Holy One, and Prophet, who begat Rabenu
Abraham of Speyer and Rabenu Judah the Pietist of Speyer who was exiled
from the land of his birth to the district of Regensburg on account of a
certain incident. His wife touched his case. He had warned her: “Do not
come near the case when you are not pure.” She forgot and touched it. The
case contained holy mysteries written on notebooks.44
Aware of both the menstruant’s power and the need for purity in the vicinity
of sacred books, R. Judah cautioned his wife not to approach the box in which
he had placed his holy book of mysteries while she was a niddah. She did not
heed his warning, and her indiscretion is described as the cause of the rabbi’s
move. Once again we find that a menstruant’s proximity to a mystical work
brings about a disaster.45
Historians have suggested both positive and negative motivations for Judah
the Pietist’s relocation from his ancestral homeland, Speyer, to Regensburg.
He may have been motivated by a “lack of popularity in Speyer,”46 by a desire

to establish schools in nearby Poland,47 or by a combination of the two.48 He
may have also pursued economic opportunity in Regensburg, which was then
a growing city with many commercial opportunities that attracted many Jews,
including some prominent Tosafists.49 But in the tradition that Rabbi Meir of
Rothenberg’s student records here, the niddah motif was not an arbitrary
borrowing. Rather it indicates the continuing prominence of concerns with
menstrual purity among the H.asidei Ashkenaz.
the niddah in the mystical

theology of h. asidei ashkenaz
The German Pietists were not only heirs of merkavah traditions but also
largely responsible for their preservation.50 They understood the importance
of purity for mystical pursuits in the early tradition and adopted these notions
into their own practices, but with the major difference that they focus on
menstruation rather than ejaculation.51
Thus, although Hekhalot traditions formed a basis for the esoteric theol-
ogy of H.asidei Ashkenaz, their purity practices were largely influenced by the
BdN. H.asidei Ashkenaz are, significantly, the first group in Europe to quote
from the BdN. They incorporate its strictures into their everyday practices
and give them a prominent place in their penitential literature.
Some scholars might argue that the Pietists’ use of the BdN reflects their
general ambivalence toward women, an ambivalence that Judith Baskin sug-
gests may have been influenced by surrounding Christian culture. Monasti-
cism may have seemed very attractive to some Pietists who wanted to escape
from the opposite sex, but celibacy was not an option for Jewish men, who
had to fulfill the obligations of marriage. Customs advocating separation from
women and the intensification of menstrual laws may have been a means of
leading a relatively “celibate” life within the constraints of Jewish law. The Pi-
etist would sublimate his feelings for his wife to intensify his love of God.52
Yet this “erotic theology” was dictated not only by the Christian cultural con-
text but also by Pietist theology.53 Both the purity requirements necessary for
divine vision and the Pietists’ esoteric theology caused them to emphasize
the antagonism between menstruation and mysticism; they fused the prac-
tices of Hekhalot traditions with those of the BdN to promote a more sweep-
ing separation of the menstruant from the holy.54

purity requirements among h. asidei ashkenaz
The German Pietists drew from Hekhalot beliefs and practices and imbued
their mystical theology with merkavah symbols.55 Physical purity was essen-
tial for a mystical vision of the heavenly Temple, but Pietists needed to adapt
the purity requirements of merkavah mysticism.56 Some Hekhalot prepara-
tions required separating from society for up to forty days. Long periods of
separation may not have posed a problem for non-rabbinic Hekhalot mystics
not bound by halakhic conventions,57 but such techniques would have proved
very difficult for a rabbi whose family obligations included satisfying his wife
sexually. The German Pietists’ position within rabbinic Judaism precluded
the possibility of such extended isolation. Unlike Hekhalot practitioners, they
could not completely separate from women to protect themselves against all
possibility of seminal or menstrual pollution. Instead, they strove to attain
this kind of isolation within society, and as a result Pietists hoping to attain a
divine vision were vigilant observers of all purity laws.
Pietists, somewhat like talmudic rabbis,58 believed that human sexuality
was antithetical to heavenly pursuits. For example, Eleazar of Worms states
in Sefer ha-Shem that “the unique name is not revealed except to one who has
nullified the lust for women.”59 To avoid sexual arousal, Pietists were advised
to refrain from looking at women in the belief that men who observed this
precaution would be granted a vision of the divine glory.60 Although a Pietist
could ignore women in general, he could not avoid his own wife, with whom
he had both sexual and procreative responsibilities. This social and cultural
reality may be reflected in the Ashkenazi definition of baal qeri. While the
term continued to refer to men who had either masturbated or had a noctur-
nal emission, Ashkenazi halakhists no longer applied the term to those who
experienced ejaculation in conjugal intercourse.61 A mystic could fulfill his
conjugal obligations and participate in mystical activity. Non-procreative emis-
sion of semen, by contrast, inhibited spiritual success. According to Eleazar’s
halakhic work, Sefer ha-Roqeah., a baal qeri (narrowly defined) would need
to immerse himself before prayer62 — one of the most important means of
attaining mystical vision of the celestial merkavah.63
But marital life also posed the risk of menstrual pollution. Thus, for a Pi-
etist to maintain the level of holiness needed for his mystical pursuits, purifi-
catory rituals were bound to include avoidance of menstruants. Pietists there-
fore adapted ideas nascent in Hekhalot literature and made explicit in the
BdN. For example, as noted, the sole reference to avoiding menstruants in
the Hekhalot literature occurs in connection with learning the mysterious
name of God.64 The BdN elaborates upon this motif, and Eleazar of Worms
adopted it into his mystical praxis. Contemplation of the divine name became
one of the most essential aspects of Pietist esoteric theology, since the image
of the name was tantamount to an image of the divine chariot. Separation
from menstruating women became a prerequisite for attaining this vision.65
Moreover, the Sefer ha-Malbush urges mystics who wish to learn the secret
of the divine name to avoid even eating food prepared by a niddah.66 Eleazar
rationalizes such separation by associating menstruants with murder, explain-
ing that women experience a monthly blood flow because Eve shed the blood
of Adam, and he identifies the five types of impure menstrual blood in women
with the fivefold appearance of the phrase “shedding blood” in Ezek. 22:1–10.
Those who engage in sexual relations with niddot would similarly be associ-
ated with murder and are therefore banned from any experience of the di-
vine.67 In adopting the strictures of the BdN, the Pietists maintained the great-
est possible degree of separation within marriage.
The Pietists’ focus on menstrual laws is apparent in their penitential litera-
ture.68 Most Pietist private penitentials have a uniform tripartite structure.69
Penances begin with sexual matters, then proceed to murder, apostasy, oaths,
and slander, and finally address the desecration of God’s name and the vio-
lation of negative precepts.70 The general outline of the first section usually
corresponds to the following pattern:
1. Sexual intercourse with an unmarried ritually impure woman
2. Sex with an engaged or married woman
3. Sex with a Christian woman or an animal
4. Kissing and fondling without sexual intercourse
5. Sex with one’s ritually impure wife
6. Stealing
7. Inflicting monetary, physical, or verbal harm
Menstrual transgressions constitute two of the seven listed violations. Sex
with a menstruant, the first sexual transgression for which one must perform
penance, is clearly of primary concern to the Pietists.71 The fourth transgres-
sion, sex with one’s wife who is a niddah, comprises three different possible
prohibitions: having sex with one’s wife who is niddah, erotic physical con-
tact, and kissing or hugging one’s wife prior to her statutory immersion.72
The penitentials proclaim that any Pietist who has physical contact with
his menstruating wife must undergo a forty-day expiatory exercise that in-
cludes lashings; abstention from meat, hot foods, and wine; daily confessions;
and ablutions in cold water.73 Though a man is permitted to be alone with his
menstruating wife, he may not discuss lascivious matters, engage in any physi-
cal acts of affection, or eat or drink with her. These restrictions are lifted as
soon as the woman has immersed herself in the miqveh.74
The sins that require penance, in this and similar texts, are, as Ivan Marcus
has noted, the same as those listed in Hekhalot Rabbati that prevent “the
mystic from being in a state of necessary purity for achieving a mystical vi-
sion.”75 Strikingly absent from most Pietistic penitentials, however, is any
mention of seminal pollution,76 which in Hekhalot texts had been so strongly
emphasized over menstrual impurity and which would later cause so much
anxiety in Kabbalah.77 The stress on menstrual laws in the first section of the
penitentials highlights the Pietists’ reformulation of the merkavah prerequi-
sites in light of their theology and cultural needs.78
The new concern about menstrual laws is most explicit in Pietist halakhah.
For example, in Sefer H.asidim, Judah the Pietist explains that infants die when
their mothers do not observe niddah laws.79 He warns men to avoid looking
at menstruants80 and to reject any food they might offer them.81 Judah’s dis-
ciple, R. Eleazar of Worms, includes the first H.asidei Ashkenaz quotation
from the BdN in his Sefer ha-Roqeah.:
I have found written in the work, Maaseh Geonim: Said Rabbi H.iyya in
the name of Rabbi H.anina ben Dosa: you will find that when the matri-
archs observed menstrual laws they immediately went into labor. Rabbi
Yoh.annan said: the niddah is dangerous; all women who do not observe
the laws of niddah cause their sons to be afflicted with boils. Rabbi Ish-
mael: the menstruant is dangerous, she causes her husband to inherit
hell . . . A woman who is careful about her status as a niddah may not cook
for her husband, nor bake, nor sift flour, nor lay out the bedding, nor pour
water from any vessel to an earthenware vessel, for she is impure and ren-
ders others impure. Moreover, she is forbidden [emphasis mine] to enter
the synagogue until she immerses herself in water82
Where Rashi and his students cite the practice of menstruants avoiding
the synagogue as a laudable custom, Eleazar makes it a law.83 Moreover, where
the school of Rashi believed that purity is not the rationale for the practice
because “the synagogue is not the same as the Holy Temple,” for Eleazar, to a
certain extent, it is.84 Just as menstruants were barred from the Temple in Je-
rusalem, they are barred from its contemporary incarnation, the synagogue.85
Shaye Cohen offered a similar explanation for the isolation of menstruants
and baalei qeri from the sacred in the BdN.86 But as we have seen, the equa-
tion of synagogue with Temple in the BdN also has its foundation in early
Jewish mystical practice, and it is this heritage that influences Eleazar’s writ-
ing. Rather than attribute the laws to the BdN, however, Eleazar cites them
in the name of the Maaseh Geonim, a collection of laws based upon the late-
eleventh-century Ashkenazi compendium Sefer Maaseh ha-Makhiri.87 Yet the
niddah passages are absent in the printed version of Maaseh Geonim,88 and
later, an anonymous halakhist misattributes them to Saadia Gaon.89
sexuality in pietistic theology

The introduction of the BdN into the precincts of normative halakhah pro-
foundly influenced later Ashkenazi piety.90 Yet Eleazar’s own interest in the
BdN was likely a reflection of both mystical praxis and the role of sexuality in
his esoteric theology. Because contemplation of the supernal merkavah con-
tinued to be a central aspect of Pietist theology, purity remained essential for
mystical vision. Pietism however, adds a sexual dimension to merkavah theol-
ogy, and this emphasis elevates the import of the Beraita.
Consider his reformulation of M H.agigah 2:1 in his Sefer ha-Shem.91 The
Mishnah states that one should not discuss the laws of sexual relations in the
presence of three, the account of creation in the presence of two, and the ac-
count of the chariot in the presence of one, unless he is wise and understands
his knowledge. The limitations imposed upon these three disciplines reflect
both their difficulty and their importance. Generally, kabbalists and historians
of Jewish mysticism have identified the account of creation as the mysteries
of creation represented in part by Sefer Yetsirah and the account of the chariot
as the vision of the supernal throne of God. The mystical significance of the
arayot (forbidden sexual relations) is more difficult to ascertain. The arayot
are clearly described as secrets in the Talmud. Rashi asserts that they were
called secrets because several prohibitions in degrees are not expressly men-
tioned in the Torah. But once they appeared in this list, it is likely that mys-
tics would have associated the secrets of sexual relations with the two other
forbidden subjects of study described in the Mishnah. Hence the arayot, like
the account of creation and the merkavah, would be a means of understand-
ing the nature of God and the world. The order and limitations imposed in
M H.agigah would compose a hierarchy of knowledge: the secrets of forbid-
den sexual relations are the first rung of the ladder that ascends toward percep-
tion and communion with God, the second is the account of God’s creation,
and the third the vision of God himself as represented by the merkavah.92
The mysteries of the arayot represent the first step toward greater under-
standing of the divinity. It is significant that in his Sefer ha-Shem, Eleazar of
Worms reformulates the Mishnah in the following way: “The account of the
creation may not be expounded on by three, nor the laws pertaining to for-
bidden sexual relations, and the secret of the name is not revealed to three but
to only one or two.”93 Wolfson has observed that Eleazar exchanged the ac-
count of the chariot mentioned in the Mishnah for the secret of the name.
Thus, the divine name becomes equivalent to the secret of the merkavah.94 It
is also noteworthy that Eleazar rearranges the hierarchy of the Mishnah, plac-
ing the account of the chariot before the laws of forbidden sexual relations.
As the order of the items still seems to imply ascending significance, Eleazar
increases the importance of secrets of sexual relations by placing them after
the secrets of the chariot.
Eleazar’s prioritizing of the arayot as one of the chief mysteries points to
his elevation of sexuality in theology. The conception of the divine that would
make menstruation a subject of theological importance for the Pietists, as
well as for later generations of mystics, appears in the super-esoteric doctrine
known as the Sod ha- Egoz, or the Secret of the Nut. This doctrine was the
first to explicitly describe male and female aspects of the Godhead, opening
the door for the idea that menstrual impurity is not merely a fact of human
biology but is also an element in the divine realm. The roots of these beliefs
may go back to Hekhalot literature,95 or to another early antecedent, but
H.asidei Ashkenaz are the first to record it explicitly. Its exposition and signifi-
cance are both consistent with the interest they display in the theological im-
portance of purity and sexuality. 96
The Secret of the Nut takes its image from Canticles: “I went down into the
garden of nuts,” and in keeping with it, makes the fresh walnut a symbol first
for the chariot of Ezekiel and ultimately for a bisexual view of the divine.97
The anatomy of the exterior and the interior of the nut corresponds perfectly
to the prophet’s vision. The fresh walnut has four external shells: a green fuzzy
outer coat, a woodlike shell that remains on the dry nut, an interim layer, and
a thin sheath that covers the fruit. These correspond to the first four objects
witnessed by Ezekiel: the storm wind, a great cloud, a fire flaring up, and the
color of the electrum. The interior of the nutshell is composed of four cham-
bers divided by a softer membrane. These chambers represent the four living
creatures, (h.ayyot ha-qodesh), and the raised center ridge symbolizes the di-
vine throne.98
At first glance, these correspondences hardly suggest an erotic theology.
But the nut was already a symbol of earthy sexuality. It had, for example, been
infused with sexual symbolism in the blessing for bridal virginity, a prayer not
attested to in the Talmud but acknowledged in the BdN. The Halakhot Gedo-
lot, the Geonic source of later Ashkenazi versions of the blessing, instructs the
groom to say the following prayer after consummating the marriage:
He who placed the walnut in the Garden of Eden, the lily of the valley, so
that no stranger shall have dominion over the sealed spring; thus the lov-
ing doe preserved her purity and did not break the law. Blessed are You,
Lord, who chooses the descendants of Abraham.99
The walnut clearly stands for the bride. “The symbolism of the walnut,
with its multiple layer of shell guarding the meat, is particularly apt for the
virgin bride, whose hymen has guarded her virginity,” Ruth Langer explains.100
The Sod ha-Egoz enhanced these sexual meanings and applied them to the
divine realm. The nut as merkavah becomes an image of the divine described
in both masculine and feminine terms. Indeed, the most explicit version of
the “secret” describes the nut as comprising five parts: “four are femaleness
(niqvut) and one maleness (zkharut). These correspond to the four h.ayyot
and one h.ayyah above them.”101 Alexander Altmann translated the literal
term maleness as the “membrum virile,”102 yet this explicit reading should not
be limited to the male aspect of the divinity. The term niqvut, like the mascu-
line zkharut, denotes the female genitals. This possibility is further supported
by the division of the female aspect of the merkavah into four parts. Since the
male has only one penis, it is logical that his sex be symbolized by one part of
the nut. The association of the female reproductive system with the quadri-
partite structure of the nut has similar biological coordinates.103 According
to BT Niddah 17b, women have four reproductive organs: “The chamber
is within, the vestibule is without, the upper chamber is built above them, and
a pathway connects the upper chamber and the vestibule.” Another talmu-
dic passage asserts that women have four more parts to their body than men.
Where a man has 248 parts, a woman has 252 parts “because Scripture adds
two hinges and two doors in her case.”104 According to this interpretation of
the merkavah, the high ridge would represent the male throne of glory sur-
rounded by four supporting female figures, the h.ayyot ha-qodesh.
The “energy” (h.ashmal) that surrounds the divine throne provided the
Pietists with an additional source of sexual imagery. The term appears in the
masculine form, h.ashmal, in Ezekiel 1:4 and 1:27, but in the feminine, h.ash-
malah, in 8:2. Pietist exegetes resolved this discrepancy by endowing the “en-
ergy” with an additional gender. These male and female energies unite in the
Godhead.
Eleazar of Worms more frequently interprets the divine throne as female
and the image upon the throne as male.105 For example, he demonstrates the
bisexual nature of Ezekiel’s merkavah with the shape of Hebrew letters. He
compares the shape of the seat of glory (kisse) to the very letter that begins
the Hebrew word for seat. Just as the Hebrew letter kaf k is round with an
opening, like a woman, so too the divine throne.106
By contrast, the enthroned figure, described as the king (melekh) is signi-
fied by the lamed l, a phallic symbol in the Ashkenazi world.107 Divine en-
thronement becomes a ceremony of sexual union, in which masculine glory
sits on a feminine throne.108 Uniting the male and female aspects of God by
contemplation of the divine name becomes the goal of H.asidei Ashkenaz
super-esoteric speculation.109
Pietists therefore encountered the female not only on earth but in vision as
well.110 For H.asidei Ashkenaz, female sexuality becomes an inherent part of
the divine realm. Once an aspect of God is conceived as specifically feminine,
certain qualities of the human female may come to the fore. Male mystics
must deal with their own biology — and women’s, too. The bisexual theology
of the divine chariot and the purity necessary to attain mystical vision led to a
heightened awareness of the laws of niddah.
the practical impact

on ashkenazic spirituality
This correlation had a profound impact on later expressions of Jewish spiritu-
ality such as the Keter Shem Tov, an eclectic mix of mysticism and philosophy
written by Eleazar’s student Abraham of Cologne.111 In the opening, Abraham
explains that a pure soul may ascend to the heavens to have a direct vision of
the divine glory. But if the soul “is in the place of her sitting” because “she has
not been purified of her flow, she shall sit alone sadly . . . She must reside out-
side the camp for the duration of her affliction.” When “she is purified of her
flow,” she may return and no longer be forsaken. She may then ascend to the
heavens and enter the inner chamber in order to assume her “familiar posi-
tion” with her husband.112
Belief that the soul, grammatically feminine in both Latin and Hebrew,
was female was commonplace in medieval thought.113 She was thought of
as the divine element in man and the female counterpart to the male God.
Neoplatonists believed that only pure souls could attain divine unity. Rather
than yield a more positive interpretation of the niddah, Abraham of Cologne
combines this essentially philosophical understanding with Jewish law and
mystical beliefs. The feminine soul may not ascend to the heavens because
she suffers specifically from the impurity of the woman with an abnormal
issue.114 Her impurity not only excludes her from the inner chamber but also
bars her from sexual union with her husband. Only when ritually purified
may she join her husband in her “familiar” position.115
The purity prerequisites for mystical practice in Hekhalot literature empha-

size avoiding seminal pollution over menstrual impurity. Yet as we have seen,
the BdN and Hekhalot literature express many of the same purity concerns,
and by the eleventh century, Italian scholars assumed that Hekhalot literature
and the BdN were directly connected. Their heirs, the German Pietists, incor-
porate the strictures of the BdN into their halakhic system when they commit
Hekhalot traditions to writing. In order to adapt the Hekhalot traditions to a
lifestyle that advocated family life, H.asidei Ashkenaz had to draw from the
laws of the BdN.
As we have seen, two implicit assumptions govern the laws of the Beraita
de Niddah: (1) that menstruants need to be barred from the sancta and
(2) that menstruants are possessed by a spirits of impurity.116 Rather than
focus on the demonic strand of the BdN, however, these mystics emphasize
the need to separate women from the sancta. In order to attain a mystical vi-
sion of the divine chariot, H.asidei Ashkenaz had to avoid menstrual impurity,
and by the thirteenth century, the strictures of the BdN had become an es-
sential part of Jewish mystical praxis.
Emerging from the charged matrix of the dangers of the niddah posed to
the sancta, menstruation was not only a purity concern but also a theological
one for the H.asidei Ashkenaz, and in response they developed a bisexual
understanding of God, articulating both male and female aspects of God and
bringing all aspects of human biology come into play. These two elements
developed by the H.asidei Ashkenaz — purity for mystical practice and a be-
lief in a feminine aspect of God — appear in heightened form in thirteenth-
century Kabbalah, and theosophical kabbalists add a third element derived
from the BdN and contemporary medical science. Indeed, some theosophi-
cal kabbalists, building upon the two strands of the BdN, would find such
cosmic danger in menstruants that the door to any possible women’s engage-
ment in mystical practice would be ever more fully shut as the period’s thought
emerged.

II
Medieval Kabbalah
4
Menstrual Impurity and Mystical
Praxis in Theosophical Kabbalah
Kabbalah emerges in southern France at the end of the twelfth century in re-
sponse to the challenge of medieval Aristotelianism.1 Provençal rabbis were
first introduced to Aristotelian philosophy by Sephardim fleeing the Almo-
had and Almoravid persecutions in the 1140s. After Maimonides’ works
reached Provençal shores, introduction gave way to controversy. Traditional
scholars who had been accustomed to midrashic modes and the Neopla-
tonism embedded in them, were now challenged by what was for them a new,
foreign, and inauthentic perception of God. Who was this unmoved mover?
Why interpret the anthropomorphisms of the Bible allegorically? In response,
they synthesized late-antique and Ashkenazi Jewish mystical traditions, and
enlarged upon them to create a type of indigenous Jewish philosophy.2
Isaac the Blind, son of the famous Jewish legist Abraham ben David, wrote
kabbalistic commentaries on Sefer Yetsirah and the statutory prayers.3 He
shared his teachings with students Ezra and Azriel of Gerona, who along with
Jacob ben Sheshet developed the distinctly philosophical form of Geronese
Kabbalah.4 Moses ben Nahman, the leader of the Jewish community of Bar-
celona, disapproved of these Geronese innovations and insisted that kabbal-
istic speculation remain traditional and esoteric. He only alludes to kabbalis-
tic secrets in his Torah commentary. Ironically, in so doing, he popularized
Kabbalah, alerting the uninitiated to the existence of an esoteric meaning to
the Bible and unwittingly inviting kabbalists to bring to light that which he
had chosen to keep hidden.5
In the last quarter of the thirteenth century, Jewish mystics flocked farther
south to Castile, where a cultural renaissance sponsored by Alphonso the Wise
facilitated what Moshe Idel has called “the flowering of Kabbalistic symbolism,”
culminating in the Zohar.6 The Zohar is a pseudepigraphic work attributed to
63
the second-century Palestinian scholar Shimon bar Yoh.ai, but its origins were
actually in late-thirteenth- and early-fourteenth-century Castile. Moses de
Leon of Guadalajara was long considered to be the sole author of the Zohar,
but recently scholars such as Yehuda Liebes and Ronit Meroz have shown
that the work is too multifaceted to be the product of a single person. They
suggest that the Zohar is a compilation by a circle of scholars with Moses de
Leon at the helm. Indeed, this collaborative effort is suggested by the Zohar’s
frame narrative — the circle of Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai and his compatriots
in the Galilee parallels the mystical circle in Castile/Leon. Members of this
esoteric group include many kabbalists known by their independent works:
Joseph Gikatilla, Joseph Hamadan, Avner of Burgos, and Joseph Angelet.7
Mystics throughout the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries collected these
traditions until they were ultimately canonized by the printing of the Zohar
in Italy in the sixteenth century.8
Many kabbalists were frustrated by the Aristotelian assertion that God is
unknowable — an unmoved mover unresponsive to his believers — but none-
theless attracted to the notion of an omnipotent and immutable power. Build-
ing upon Jewish tradition and the Neoplatonic philosophy regnant in their
day, they described a God that is both” hidden and manifest” in our world.9
God is said to have ten knowable attributes, known as sefirot, with one aspect
lying beyond the realm of human cognition, the Ain Sof (without end).
Theosophical kabbalists believed that they could learn about the inner
processes of the divine realm through the esoteric interpretation of God’s
own words. Mystical contemplation of the Torah rather than philosophical
speculation of Aristotle’s Metaphysics was their path to God and his cosmos.
Moreover, thirteenth-century kabbalists believed that human beings and God
enjoyed a reciprocal relationship. Men and women were sustained through
God’s beneficence, but God was invigorated through people’s actions. Proper
performance of all the commandments would foster unity in the divine realm,
and conversely, sinning could unleash the forces of evil in the sefirotic realm.
Few laws escaped their notice, including the long defunct laws of the Israelite
Temple cult.
The symbols of the Temple cult — priesthood, the Holy of Holies, the throne
of the cherubim, sacrifice, the chariot of Ezekiel — that had been so central to
Hekhalot literature and German Pietism take on even more symbolic impor-
tance in twelfth and thirteenth century Kabbalah. The priestly authors of the
Bible considered the tabernacle and the Holy of Holies in the Solomonic Tem-
64 · Medieval Kabbalah
ple to be God’s office on earth.10 After the destruction of the First Temple,
Ezekiel envisioned a mobile Temple in the form of a chariot (merkavah) that
brought God’s glory into Exile. Hekhalot literature fixes this Temple in the
heavens, and German Pietists make this celestial merkavah the site of their
mystical contemplation. Kabbalists enlarge upon these traditions and imag-
ine the attributes of God that inhere in our world — the sefirot — as the ce-
lestial Temple resting on an angelic merkavah.11 In so doing, certain medieval
kabbalists identify the Temple and Temple cult with God. Rather than enter-
ing into a physical structure, or a celestial construct, kabbalists imagine that
they are entering into God,12 and therefore infinitely increasing the sacrality,
danger, and prerequisites for admittance.
In his dissertation, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” Seth Brody
explains:
If the world is a tapestry woven out of the fabric of intersecting Sefirotic
powers, whose innermost structure is mapped in detail through the ordi-
nances and enactments of Torah, then the cult standing at the heart of
Sinaitic revelation must embody and manifest the mystery of revelation to
the highest degree imaginable. Every aspect of the cult, its rituals, partici-
pants and offerings, find its distinctive locus on an elaborate Sefirotic grid.13
The sefirotic realm is described as the holy Hekhal, the vestibule in front of
the Holy of Holies. High priests represent H.esed, the Levites, Gevurah, and
the Israelites, Tiferet.14 Shekhinah, the lower female aspect of the Godhead, is
symbolized by Jerusalem, the Temple, the outer Hekhal, and the outer altar;
Binah, the upper mother, is the inner Hekhal, the inner altar, and the Holy of
Holies.15 The seven-candled menorah represent the seven lower sefirot.16 Eze-
kiel’s chariot, itself an adaptation of Temple cult rituals first for Babylonian
exiles, then for merkavah mystics, and still later for German Pietists, becomes
an essential aspect of sefirotic imagery. Jacob ben Jacob ha-Kohen, Joseph
Gikatilla, and Moses de Leon, among others, wrote commentaries of the first
chapter of Ezekiel throughout the thirteenth and early fourteenth century.17
Indeed, nearly all the extant kabbalistic commentaries on the first and tenth
chapters of Ezekiel date to the second half of the thirteenth century; the au-
thors refer to themselves as H.akhmei ha-merkavah (those who know the wis-
dom of the merkavah).18 Analysis of the merkavah figures prominently in sev-
eral sections of the Zohar and is the major motif in Tiqqunei Zohar. Some of
these analyses build upon the popular image in Bereshit Rabbah that posits
Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 65
that the patriarchs are the merkavah.19 The sefirot H.esed, Gevurah, and Tife-
ret represent Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who, along with Malkhut (David)
represent the four-wheeled merkavah. Other descriptions depict Shekhinah
as the divine throne and the patriarchs — sefirotically symbolized as H.esed,
Gevurah, and Tiferet — as the image of the divine glory.20
In addition to superimposing Temple architecture onto the sefirotic tree,
some kabbalists saw themselves as latter-day priests, who in the absence of a
physical Temple contemplate cultic rituals rather than perform actual sacrifices
at a physical altar. A Catalonian kabbalist enlarged upon the long-established
rabbinic substitution of prayer for sacrifice, and posited that “the righteous
ones, the pious, and those who engage in profound concentration” unite the
divine name by grasping hold of the fire kindled upon the altar of their
hearts.”21 The kabbalist thus replaces the priest, and kabbalistic prayer re-
places cultic ritual in a world without a physical Temple. As Brody explains,
“[I]t is the souls and intentions of the officiants which are offered to God.”22
Sacrifice serves a dual function: it draws the kabbalist/priest closer to the
sefirot realm and draws the sefirot in closer harmony with each other. This
theological understanding is reaffirmed by language. Sacrifice (in Hebrew,
qorban) shares a root with qarov (closeness).23 The Castilian kabbalist Joseph
Gikatilla explains that “you already know that the mystery of sacrifice is the
proximation (qeruv) of the sefirot, the ordering of the rungs, and the repair
of the channels. Consequently, qorban (sacrifice) derives from qeruv (prox-
imity). If so, prayer stands in the place of sacrifices.”24
maintaining purity for mystical praxis

Thirteenth- and early-fourteenth-century kabbalists similarly imbue priestly
purity laws with cosmic significance. In the case of the menstruant, however,
many kabbalists blur the distinction between cultic restrictions of Leviticus 15
and the sexual prohibitions of Leviticus 18 and 21. That is, the purity concerns
of the Temple cult are here being merged with the fundamentally separate
purity concerns of marital sexuality. Menah.em Recanati, for example, explains
that transgressing niddah laws causes a defect in the supernal merkavah.25
Others equate sexual relations with menstruating women with idolatry. The
Raaya Meheimna (RM), a later stratum of the Zohar, compares a man who
has sexual relations with a menstruating woman to Nadav and Avihu, the sons
of Aaron who offered an improper sacrifice to God.26 Elsewhere, Gikatilla
enlarges upon this Temple imagery and compares Shekhinah to the Hekhal,
proclaiming that one who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman
introduces impurity into this supernal hekhal.27 The later Sefer ha-Qanah
similarly explains that proper sexual relations will foster divine union, while
sexual relations with impure women will introduce impurity into the Hekhal,
that is, the Shekhinah. Moreover, the laws of the niddah embrace all other
acts of forbidden sexual relations which introduce impurity into the realm of
the holy.28 According to the Zohar, sexual relations with a menstruant are one
of “three acts that drive the Shekhinah away from the world and prevent the
Holy One, blessed be He, from dwelling in the world, so that people cry out
and their voice is not heard.”29
These kabbalistic ideas developed out of biblical and rabbinic traditions.
The close association between God’s indwelling, sexuality, purity, and the
Holy of Holies, implicit in the Bible, is enlarged upon in the Talmud. The
Israelites believed that the God’s indwelling rested upon the throne of the cher-
ubim. Later rabbinic interpreters suggested that when Israel performed divine
commandments, the cherubim would turn toward each other — presumably
in sexual intercourse — and when Israel sinned, they would turn apart.30 Rab-
binic tradition also supposed that when a married couple engaged in licit sex-
ual relations, the Shekhinah rested upon them. Moshe Idel suggests that
this parallel between the presence of the Shekhinah on the two cherubim
found in a sexual union in the Holy of Holiest on the one hand, and Her
dwellings on the pure human pair in sexual content on the other hand, is,
in my opinion, conspicuous. It seems as if the religious role of the cheru-
bim, according to some rabbis, has been transferred to human pairs ac-
cording to others. The logic of this transfer seems to be as follows: When
the Temple was destroyed, its cultic function was partially preserved by the
human sexual activity when performed in purity.31
Kabbalists received and reinterpreted these earlier rabbinic traditions, then
wed them to Hekhalot traditions to create (or perhaps vivify) a divine mar-
riage chamber symbolically expressed as the Holy of Holies.32 In so doing,
they made the association of purity, Temple cult, and sexuality into a prereq-
uisite for kabbalistic practice.
In theosophical Kabbalah, the purity prerequisites for mystical success not
only persist, but they increase because the mystic must struggle with impurity
in a theurgic universe. Failure to enter the holy Temple, as Shekhinah, in a
state of ritual impurity is not only dangerous to the individual mystic, as in
the case of Hekhalot literature, and to the success of divine contemplation,
as in H.asidei Ashkenaz’s Sefer Ha-Shem, but now can wreak havoc upon the
cosmos. The Children of Israel were ordered to banish all lepers and those
with flux impurity and corpse impurity from the camp to create a hospitable
environment for the tabernacle. Later, priests vigilantly observed purity laws
to fulfil their functions in the Temple, God’s office on earth. Theosophical
kabbalists who wish to cleave to the celestial tabernacle and Temple, or to
enter into her holy precincts, must similarly ensure their own purity. The
Zohar explains that Abraham planted a tree of faith. “Whoever was pure the
tree would welcome; whoever was impure it would not.”33
Purity was essential for mystical vision and divine communion among
theosophical kabbalists.34 The Zohar describes visionaries as the enlightened
ones (maskilim) and the Holy Spirit was believed to rest upon them.35 Be-
cause neither the Holy Spirit nor the divine presence will approach an adept
who is impure,36 he must purify himself of all pollution and sanctify himself
in order to attain a “prophecy.”37 Purity was also a necessary precondition for
study because the very act of interpretation and reading the text was a key
to divine vision. Elliot Wolfson explains that “interpretatio itself became a
moment of revelatio, which in the language of the Zohar, further involves the
process of devequt, ‘cleaving to God.’ ”38 The intensity of this mystical experi-
ence is determined by one’s level of purity.39
According to the Zohar, the patriarch Abraham, the personification of the
sefirah H.esed, “observed the laws of purity and impurity so vigilantly that an
impure person could not even approach: immediately Abraham would realize
that he was impure and have him undergo immersion (if an ejaculant) or have
him wait seven days fittingly in his house (if a zav).”40 Abraham ate pure food
in a state of ritual purity and refused cakes prepared by menstruating Sarah.41
Abraham and Sarah would purify all human beings “from the aspects of idola-
try and from the aspect of defilement” so that all who approached them were
entirely pure.”42
Forms of human defilement defy the designations of gender in the Zohar,
for not only must mystics avoid menstruants, but they are also compared to
niddot when spiritually impure.43 For example, the Zohar compares the male
and female community of Israel when living under the dominion of sitra ah.ra
in Egypt to menstruating women. Their symbolic flow ceased when they came
forth from Egypt, but like the zavah and the niddah, they had to wait seven
clean days before becoming pure. According to the Zohar’s interpretation of
the Exodus story, these seven days become seven weeks, corresponding to the
omer, the period between Passover and Pentecost (Lev. 23:15). The Israelites
were then purified by the dew of the sefirot and able to receive the Torah.44
Like the example of the aspiring Hekhalot mystic who remained isolated for
twelve days, the community of Israel had to observe the cosmic laws of niddah
to receive the Torah and unite with Tiferet and Shekhinah,45 and the Zohar
concludes that mystics must remain separate from menstruants and avoid the
state of niddah themselves.
All niddot and those polluted by them are excluded from divine interac-
tion. The RM asks, “How is one privileged to see the face of the Shekhinah?”
and answers, “When one guards himself from the niddah. Concerning this it
is written, ‘do not come near a woman during her period of impurity to un-
cover her nakedness’ (Lev. 18:19).”46
This antagonism between menstrual impurity and divine vision is based
on the Beraita d’Niddah’s assumption that menstrual impurity is so despised
by God that it will drive him away. The BdN states, “Come and see how
extreme the impurity of the menstruating woman is before the Holy One
blessed be He. All who do not protect themselves from her will be afflicted
with living leprosy.”47 Elsewhere, God “states” that only men who are vigilant
in their observance of niddah laws may approach his name.48 Since in Hekha-
lot literature the form of God was often identified with his name, the BdN
proposes that one can draw closer to the name of God — that is achieve a
mystical vision — only through self-purification and observance of menstrual
laws.49 In the Zohar, the vision of God is often identified with the vision of the
Shekhinah. Thus Zohar 2:3a–b explains:
There are three who thrust the Shekhinah away from the world, preventing
the Holy One from dwelling in the world. Human beings cry out and their
voice is not heard.
These are: One who lies with a menstruant [the first of the three] — for no
defilement in the world is as potent as that of menstruation. The defile-
ment of menstruation is more severe than any defilement in the world. He
is defiled and all who approach him are defiled along with him. Wherever
they go, Shekhinah is repelled by them.50

Just as menstrual impurity distanced the mystic from God in the BdN, the
niddah exiles the Shekhinah from the holy sanctuary and prevents the mystic
from achieving his spiritual goals.51
menstruation and theurgy

Mystics are enjoined to understand the cosmic import of their own obser-
vance of family purity laws, for in Kabbalah, all liturgical and ritual acts affect
both the terrestrial and heavenly realms. Proper performance of the com-
mandments promotes divine harmony while their violation promotes cosmic
discord. Failure to perform ritual purity laws, therefore, will not only result in
an unsuccessful mystical encounter but also empower the forces of the de-
monic other side. Sanctioned sexual intercourse is a particularly effective means
of establishing divine union; illicit sexual relations introduces impurity into
the Holy of Holies and drive the Shekhinah from her abode. Licit sexual rela-
tions performed in purity, by contrast, would not only beckon the Shekhinah
and facilitate divine union but also enable the mystic to partake in the divine
wedding ceremony as well.52 Indeed, the Zohar explains that “when a man’s
wife undergoes days of impurity and he waits for her fittingly, supernal cou-
pling couples with him all those days, so he is male and female. Once his wife
is purified, he should delight her anew — joy of mitsvah, supernal joy.”53
When performed under proper conditions, physical intercourse between
husband and wife fosters both divine and mystical union, for the act enables
both Tiferet and the male mystic to unite with the Shekhinah.54 Many texts
elaborate upon the conditions necessary for a mystically significant sexual en-
counter.55 Perhaps the most famous primary work devoted to the subject is
the Iggeret ha-Qodesh (The Holy Letter), the popular kabbalistic text errone-
ously ascribed to Nahmanides, which discusses not only the correct thought
and time for intercourse, but also physiological concerns, such as the appro-
priate diet to ensure healthy offspring.56 The author justifies his regimen with
a common refrain from Leviticus. In the Holiness Code, God exhorts the chil-
dren of Israel to avoid sexual abominations in order to become holy. Sexual
propriety is understood to be an essential means of imitatio dei: man imitates
the creator of all life by creating life through sanctioned sexual reproduction.57
In the Iggeret ha-Qodesh, sexual conduct also becomes a means of “sanctify-
ing” or “desecrating” God’s name.58
Kabbalists also identified God with his name. Each of the four letters of
the tetragrammaton, YHWH, corresponds to a specific sefirah. Any act that
sanctifies or desecrates the name of God takes on cosmic significance.59 Il-
licit sexual relations violate the name of God on both the sefirotic and the
physical level. Kabbalists believed that the first letter of the tetragrammaton,
yod, was engraved on a boy’s penis during circumcision. The name of God
thus becomes a partner to any male sexual act.60 Moshe de Leon therefore
warns that
[o]ne must be constantly vigilant so that he might not sin against his flesh
and wander and place the engraving of God in an evil place. For the in-
dividual who inserts the covenant, the mark of God, in another place
(maqom ah.er) causes a blemish in that place and deceives the mark of
God.61
Consequently, circumcised men must avoid menstruating women, lest they
pollute the sign of the earthly and supernal covenant.
The “holy yod” engraved on the human penis also signifies the sefirah
Yesod.62 Significantly, Yesod represents both the Tsaddiq, righteous man, and
the divine phallus. Sexual propriety and circumcision are therefore directly
related to righteousness. In Sheqel ha-Qodesh, Moses de Leon explains that
“anyone who guards the covenant of this place earns the right to be called
Tsaddiq.”63 The righteous man on earth must guard the seal of the supernal
Tsaddiq by observing sexual laws, and observance of purity laws and appro-
priate sexual behavior become the means of achieving true sanctity.64 Be-
cause menstrual laws represent both purity and sexual concerns, their obser-
vance becomes a particularly effective means toward this end.65 The verse
“you shall sanctify yourselves and be holy, for I the Lord am holy” (Lev. 11:44)
is directly associated in the Zohar with proper observance of niddah and
other sexual laws.66 Indeed, the fifteenth-century kabbalist Natan the Physi-
cian specifically states that mystics must separate from menstruants in order
to emulate God.67
Only those who are like God — sexually righteous, ritually pure, and cir-
cumcised — may enter the holy Hekhal. In the Zohar, the uncircumcised are
denied divine entry, for the foreskin has become a symbol of all that is other,
impure, polluted, and evil. As such, only the circumcised mystic, the earthy
incarnation of Yesod, may penetrate the sefirotic realm.

the mystery of the entrance to the land
Kabbalists understood the male aspect of Yesod to have its female counter-
part in the Shekhinah. Yet while the adept and Yesod share an actual or sym-
bolic phallus that ensures a spiritual connection, the sex of the Shekhinah
defines her as other.68 Her physiology can facilitate or repel divine vision.
Thirteenth-century kabbalists, like German Pietists, often described divine
vision in terms of the merkavah and its analog the nut.69 In contrast to Ash-
kenazi mystics, however, medieval kabbalists build upon Neoplatonic asso-
ciations between the shell and evil to create a dichotomy between the physi-
cal and the spiritual, exoteric and esoteric, profane and holy.70 Catalonian
Kabbalist Azriel of Gerona compared the shells (qelippot) to the waste and
void that preceded creation (tohu), and described the external shells as an evil
barrier to divine access. In a variation on this trope, Castilian kabbalists Moses
de Leon and Joseph Gikatilla ascribe the foreskin and female physiology to
the qelippot.71
In his commentary on the first chapter of Ezekiel’s vision, Moses de Leon
uses the image of the nut as merkavah as a prototype for kabbalistic vision.72
In order for either Ezekiel or the contemporary kabbalist to reach the fruit
(i.e., the supernal merkavah), he must first pass through the four external
shells of the walnut, corresponding to the first four objects seen by Ezekiel:
(1) the storm wind, (2) a great fire flaring up, (3) a brightness about it, (4) the
color of the electrum (1:4). The prophet Ezekiel was not completely success-
ful in his initial attempt to pierce through the outer shell. De Leon explains
that the defective spelling of the Hebrew word va-ere (“and I looked”) in
verse 1:4 signifies that Ezekiel’s vision is also defective (the letter heh is miss-
ing from the common conjugation pattern of the verb). The prophet was
only able to see the mystery of the external qelippah, described, in feminine
terms, as “the Mystery of the Entrance to the Land.” Because Ezekiel “saw her,
he could not have a complete vision and prophecy.”73 The feminine pronoun
“her” refers to the external qelippah and the entrance to the land. The term
“land” alludes to the Land of Israel, a symbol of the Shekhinah, the feminine
attribute of God.74 In other words, de Leon equates the Shekhinah with the
external qelippah — an extremely negative image.
The Hebrew term used by de Leon, mavo, commonly denotes an entrance
or an introduction. The Shekhinah, the last of the ten emanated attributes of
the Godhead, functions as an entry between the divine and the human realm.
Because she alone provides access to the sefirot, the Shekhinah is the means
through which the adept may achieve his vision.75 When referring to anat-
omy, the word takes on the similar meanings of “meatus,” “introitus,” or an
“inlet.” As noted, in rabbinic literature, women’s bodies were often compared
to houses; the “door” into a woman’s body usually meant the vagina.76 The
entrance to the supernal land may thus refer to the vagina of the Shekhinah.77
The entry point to God, like the entry point for sexual ecstasy, is symbolized
by female anatomy.
Indeed, entry into the Land of Israel was related to sexual activity in
Geronese and Castilian Kabbalah in two different ways. The sexual union of
Tiferet and Shekhinah was often described as the act of inheriting the Land of
Israel. Just as the Children of Israel could “inherit” the land only when they
had been circumcised at the Jordan ( Joshua 6), mystics could “enter” the di-
vine feminine only when circumcised. They could then unite with the She-
khinah and achieve a vision of the supernal sefirot.78 In the “Mystery of the
Entrance to the Land,” however, it is not the status of the male mystic that
inhibits vision but the purity status of the Shekhinah herself that acts as a
qelippah, blocking access to the divine.79 Kabbalists believed that like the
human female, the Shekhinah menstruates. When in a state of niddah, she
must remain “outside” the heavenly realm and may therefore be compared to
the external shell.80 Just as a human niddah may wrest a man from a heavenly
vision, the supernal menstruant may pollute the adept and prevent accession
to true prophecy. Ezekiel’s prophecy was thwarted because his first sight was
the polluting image of a menstruating Shekhinah.81 The letter heh, missing in
the beginning of the prophecy, represents the flight of the holy aspects of God
during “the period of her menstruation.” Just as a husband separates from his
menstruating wife, God separates from the menstruating Shekhinah. And just
as menstrual impurity can preclude mystical success, the Shekhinah’s men-
strual impurity can impede mystical entry.
Joseph Gikatilla similarly ascribes Ezekiel’s incomplete vision to the She-
khinah’s purity status. However, in keeping with his enduring interest in the
divine names, he focuses on the symbolic absence of the letter heh in va-era.
Like de Leon, he emphasizes the defective spelling of “and I saw” to signify
the prophet’s incomplete vision. In Ezekiel 1:1, the prophet sees a full vision
of God — signified by the grammatically correct term ve-ereh with a heh. His
incomplete vision of the northern storm wind is underscored by the absence
of the heh in va-era. The final aleph represents the Shekhinah, the speculum
that does not shine. She functions as a veil (parokhet) that divides the vision-
aries from their visions. Though she had resided within the holy Hekhal, il-
luminated by the effluxes of Yesod, she now lives in exile, under the dominion
of the demonic other side who polluted her with the forces of impurity.82
A later strata of the Zohar, printed as Zohar H.adash, describes the sefirotic
impact of the Shekhinah’s impurity. 83 In Zoharic Kabbalah, the letters of the
tetragrammaton, yod, heh, vav, heh, correspond to specific sefirot. The sefirah
H.okhmah is yod; Binah, the upper heh; Tiferet (beauty), the vav; and the
Shekhinah, the lower heh.84 Proper observance of certain commandments
would unite these letters and facilitate vision of the name of God.85 The defec-
tive spelling of the verb va-ereh signals to us that the vision was incomplete.
Ezekiel’s vision was incomplete because the Shekhinah was niddah. Her im-
purity caused the upper heh of Binah to flee pollution. Since only three letters
remained, Ezekiel could not successfully unify the name of the tetragramma-
ton, precluding the possibility of complete vision.86
The pure Shekhinah is the mystical portal; the menstruating Shekhinah,
the barrier. The aspiring mystic must avoid both the terrestrial and the super-
nal menstruant in order to achieve divine vision. But as in the case of H.asidei
Ashkenaz, purity requirements reflect theological considerations. Ritual pu-
rity must be addressed not only on earth but in the heavens as well.
5
The Myth of the
Menstruating Shekhinah
As the “Mystery of the Entrance to the Land” makes clear, kabbalists con-
ceived of menstruation as both a terrestrial and a supernal force that must be
avoided in order to have a successful mystical encounter. Kabbalists saw the
sefirotic realm as an organism whose processes reflect our own. The divine
body, like the human body, eats food and expels waste. Primordial man, like
terrestrial man, may become impure. It is striking, however, that of the many
forms of impurity at its disposal, the male circle of the Zohar so frequently
mentions the uniquely female impurity of niddah. In fact, thirteenth-century
kabbalists believed that the Shekhinah, the feminine aspect of the divine male,
menstruates. Although kabbalists derived their understanding of the Shekhi-
nah’s cycle from female biology and rabbinic halakhah, they posit the reverse.
For kabbalists, the flow of the supernal woman became the archetype for
human experience; conversely, female biology was understood to be a reflec-
tion of a cosmic reality.
the roots of the symbol

Kabbalists were not the first to conceive of an aspect of God as menstruating.
Gershom Scholem suggests the gnostic myth of Sophia as one source for the
symbol of the Shekhinah.1 In his treatise Against Heresies, Irenaeus, bishop of
Lyons (120–202), describes how one gnostic sect conceived the fall of Sophia
in terms that reflect the biological functions of the human female. According
to Irenaeus, Sophia, “having engaged in an impossible and impractical at-
tempt” to unify with the One, “brought forth an amorphous substance, such
as her female nature was able to produce.” This inviable substance, described
as matter devoid of the male form, was the cosmic equivalent of menstrual
blood, the result of an unfertilized ovum. Although Sophia was eventually
75
reconciled with the Father, this substance remained and could pollute the
spiritual realm.2 This sect also transferred the gospel story of the woman with
a flux to the divine realm. The woman is no longer a mortal afflicted with an
issue of blood but rather a heavenly aeon suffering from a loss of power.3
Early Jewish sources, too, interpret menstruation as a divine process. Con-
sider, for example, the interpretation of the verse, “the mandrakes give forth
fragrance, and at our gate are all manner of precious fruits, new and old, which
I have laid up for thee, O my beloved” (Song of Songs 7:14) in BT Eruvin 21b.
According to Rava, each phrase in the verse has a unique referent. “The man-
drakes who give forth fragrance” refer to Jewish men who are unspoiled by
sin, and “the precious fruits” at the gates refer either to “the daughters of Israel
who tell their husbands about their doors” or to those “who close their doors
for their husbands.” The final phrases in the verse, “new and old, which I have
laid up for thee, O my beloved,” is spoken by Knesset Yisrael, a female being
who represents the Community of Israel.
Given the erotic intention of the verse, the phrase “precious fruits” likely
refers to sexual pleasure. These delights lie at a wife’s gate or door, a euphe-
mism for her vagina. The possibility of entry turns on women’s purity status.
During their menstrual flow, the pious daughters of Israel either tell their
husbands about the state of their “doors” or they close their “doors” to their
husbands.4 The phrase “precious fruits at the gates” refers to the possibility
of sexual pleasure with ritually pure women.
At the end of the verse, Knesset Yisrael, the rabbinic prototype for the
kabbalistic Shekhinah, explains that she, too, has offered both “new and old”
fruits to her “beloved.” These “fruits” were traditionally interpreted as laws
performed by the Knesset Yisrael for her “beloved,” God; the old fruits refer
to biblical law and the new fruits to talmudic law. Moshe Idel offers a different
interpretation, proposing that Knesset Yisrael’s “old and new fruit” be under-
stood within the context of the discussion of menstrual laws.5 According to
the priestly purity code, the menstruant is impure for only seven days, after
which she is deemed pure. The zavah alone must wait seven additional days
after the cessation of her flow to sacrifice a sin offering and be deemed pure.6
Only later, in the Talmud, did “the pious daughters of Israel” incur the obliga-
tion to wait an additional seven days after the cessation of their menstrual
flow.7 In BT Eruvin, Knesset Yisrael explains that she, like the pious daughters
of Israel, offers her husband both the old and the new laws: the levitical nid-
dah laws and the extra-biblical purity requirements imposed in the Talmud.
Knesset Yisrael would then presumably wait an additional seven days after her
menstrual flow before engaging in sexual relations with God.
By the thirteenth century, the symbol of the menstruant had become a
very powerful element of the Zoharic understanding of the cosmos. Rabbi
Shimon bar Yoh.ai, the hero of the Zohar, disclosed the mystical significance
of menstruation to his disciples alone.8 Subsequent generations did not de-
serve to receive this esoteric knowledge, and those privy were afraid to share
the mystery with anyone unworthy of it.
the shekhinah as menstruant in kabbalah

In the Kabbalah, where the two sexes and their relations on earth are but coun-
terparts to the divine world, the mythic possibilities of the Talmud become
actualized and the functions of the human female appear in the feminine as-
pect of God. The Shekhinah engages in sexual relations and may become
pregnant; she also menstruates. Just as menstruation suspends sexual rela-
tions on earth, the Shekhinah’s menstruation interrupts divine union. She may
resume relations with the sefirot of Tiferet or Yesod only after immersion.
Thirteenth-century kabbalists identified the purity requirements of women
with those of the Shekhinah to such an extent that they supposed the cycle
of the supernal female determined halakhah.
The circle of the Zohar used the symbol of the menstruating Shekhinah in
its exegesis and adjusted the length or frequency of her menses to correspond
to and prove its interpretations and practices. For example, certain texts de-
scribe the Shekhinah as having a weekly cycle: during the week, the supernal
female menstruates and is therefore niddah, banned, from her husband, the
sefirah of Tiferet or Yesod. When her flow ends on Friday, she may purify
herself and resume relations with the male aspects of God on the Sabbath.
This divine union served as a model for mystical praxis. Mystics were ex-
horted to have relations on Friday nights alone, while other married couples
were permitted to engage in sexual relations throughout the two weeks of the
month the wife is considered ritually pure.9
Another Zoharic text associates the Shekhinah’s cycle with the omer in
order to give cosmic significance to this seven-week period between Passover
and Pentecost (Lev. 23:15). Israel, that is to say, the Shekhinah, was repre-
sented as a niddah during the captivity in Egypt, a country often interpreted
as the sitra ah.ra.10 Her flow ended as soon as she was freed from the impure
Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 77
power. Yet like the zavah and the niddah, she had to wait seven clean days
before she could resume relations with her spouse. According to the Zohar’s
interpretation of the Exodus story, these seven days become seven weeks,
corresponding to the omer. At the end of that period, the Shekhinah was puri-
fied by the living waters of Binah.11 She could then adorn herself and resume
relations with the King, the sefirah of Tiferet.12
In Sefer ha-Rimmon, Moses de Leon describes the union of Shekhinah and
Tiferet on Shavuot in astrological terms. Though emancipated from Egypt,
the Shekhinah, here designated as the moon, needed to wait until Pentecost
to become full and thus a fitting sexual partner for the Sun (Tiferet).13 The
Shekhinah as moon is one of the most common symbolic associations in the
Zohar, an association that grew out of the kabbalists’ close identification of
the divine and human female.14 The four phases of the moon — new, waxing,
full, waning — represent birth, burgeoning life, fullness, and death. The full
moon represents the most fertile period, ovulation, while the fourth phase
corresponds to menstruation. To this correspondence, observed by many
cultures, ritual purity laws add a layer of special significance to Jews.15 As
noted, husbands and wives separate for at least twelve days, leaving approxi-
mately fifteen days of the monthly cycle for marital relations. This division
perfectly matches the waxing and waning of the moon. Many medieval Ash-
kenazi sources observed that “just as a moon waxes for half a month and
wanes for half a month, so the woman is close to her husband for half a month
and lonely in her impurity for half a month. And as the moon is accessible at
night, so is the woman, as it is written, ‘in the evening, she would come (Es-
ther 2:14).’ ”16 This association is the basis for the belief that the first day of the
new lunar month (Rosh H.odesh) is a holiday meant specifically for women.17
Kabbalists adapted these earlier beliefs to create their own lunar symbol-
ism.18 Like terrestrial women, the Shekhinah, the supernal moon, has a twenty-
eight-day cycle that coincides with the lunar month.19 Clearly, they came to
this description by observing biological experience. But the kabbalists’ un-
derstanding of it reverses the equation. They see the biological and ritual re-
quirements of terrestrial women as being mere visible manifestations of the
supernal experience. The divine realm causes, and when understood explains,
the material realm. As such, the kabbalistic understanding of the Shekhinah’s
cycle is adduced as the rationale for the observance of the laws of the men-
struating woman.
Joseph Hamadan, the kabbalist who provides some of the most sexually
explicit interpretations of the inner workings of the divine realm, offers an
extensive example of this reasoning in his Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot (Book of
Rationales for the Commandments).20 Hamadan begins his discussion of the
commandment to refrain from sexual relations with menstruating women by
citing the biblical proscriptions and several rabbinic incentives for observing
the laws of niddah. Then, disclosing part of the cosmic mystery of the law, he
observes that the ultimate purpose of Temple sacrifice is to unite the bride-
groom Tiferet with his bride the Shekhinah when she is “full.” But the super-
nal woman, like her human counterpart, is not always “full.” There is a time
when she is “whole” and may unite with the King, and a time when she is
“blemished” and may not receive the efflux of the sefirah Tiferet. Hamadan
expatiates, using the example of the sun and the moon. Like man, the lower
sun, Tiferet, the supernal sun, is always whole because he never menstruates.
The moon, by contrast, is defective. Like women, she waxes and wanes each
month.21
Hamadan derives her cycle not from the human condition, but rather from
a creation myth. In Genesis 1:16, God is said to have created “two great lights.”
The end of the verse, however, refers to a “great light to rule the day” and a
“lesser light to rule the night.” How did the power of one of the “great lights”
become diminished at the end of the verse? The Talmud provides an answer
and Kabbalah elaborates. The moon was diminished as punishment for her
hubris. Initially, the sun and the moon were equally brilliant. Not content
with parity, the moon asked God if it were “possible for two kings to wear one
crown.” Angered by her presumption, God retorted, “Go then and make thy-
self smaller.” She was humbled and forced to rely on the sun for her light.22
The Shekhinah’s condition corresponds to this event. Hamadan ties the
defect in the lower moon to a stain in the supernal one. The term used for
stain (ketem) is the legal term for blood spots that could render a woman
impure. Accordingly, the moon is “stained” precisely when the Shekhinah is
impure; one may ascertain the Shekhinah’s condition by the phase of the
moon. Eve’s sin and “curse” are a later reflection of a cosmic event.
Where earlier authors saw a parallel between the waxing and waning of the
moon and the pure and impure states of women, Hamadan found a basis in it
for the law. The Shekhinah is purified and whole at the beginning of the full
moon. She may then engage in marital relations with her husband, Tiferet.23

This intimacy may last for precisely fifteen days.24 When her flow begins, she
must separate until she can immerse herself in the ritual bath.
Kabbalists also see the conditions of the Shekhinah’s immersion reflected
in the terms of the human law. According to Jewish law, terrestrial women
must bathe in a ritual bath filled with forty seahs of water that meets certain
requirements. Spring water, rain water, and melted snow may be used to fill
the miqveh.25 This water may not be drawn. “Pure” water that has been col-
lected in any type of receptacle is considered drawn and would render the
ritual bath invalid.26 Special pipes are attached to the exterior of the miqveh
to conduct water to a main pool. Because these channels are structurally con-
nected to the building, they are not considered separate containers but a part
of the bath itself.27 This water may then be channeled to satellite baths.
Insufficient or misappropriated water, of great halakhic concern, becomes
a divine concern in Hamadan. The conveyance of undrawn purificatory wa-
ters to the miqveh reflects the emanative processes within the sefirotic realm.
Divine energy flows from the upper to the lower sefirot through channels or
pipes. These energies meet at Yesod and are filtered down to Shekhinah. Yesod
acts as a supernal ritual bath, purifying the Shekhinah with his supernal ef-
fluxes. Like undrawn water that fills a ritual bath, these flowing emanations fill
and purify the Shekhinah. 28
There is an overt sexual dimension to this analogy, for Yesod also repre-
sents the divine phallus.29 Hamadan enlarges upon this analogy and com-
pares the method of conveying water to the ritual bath to ejaculation. Like the
penis, the sefirotic channels and miqveh pipes convey purificatory water to
Yesod, who, in turn, purifies the Shekhinah with his sperm-like efflux.30 Simi-
larly, terrestrial woman is first ritually cleansed by the miqveh water and then
is further purified by the sign of the covenant, her husband’s circumcised
penis.31
The issue of both the supernal channel and the earthly channel must be
like undrawn water. And if valid water is like a husband’s semen, foreign or
drawn water will represent extramarital relations. Should this “water” be con-
taminated or come from some other source, the “immersion” would not be
legitimate. On earth, this would point to a wife’s promiscuity; in the heavens,
the Shekhinah would remain impure and come under the dominion of the
demonic sitra ah.ra.32
The quantity of water is no less important than its quality. Just as a miqveh
must contain forty seah of undrawn water to purify terrestrial women, Yesod
must emit forty seahs of efflux to purify the Shekhinah.33 This measure deter-
mined the number of days that Moses remained on Mount Sinai. He waited
on the mountain for forty days to learn the mystery inherent in each efflux.34
When the Shekhinah was eventually filled by Tiferet, she gave birth to the
Torah. This “child” of Tiferet and Shekhinah weighed forty seahs. The She-
khinah then gave her offspring to Moses in the form of two, twenty-seah tab-
lets as a gift for Israel. The written Torah may therefore be compared to a valid
miqveh,35 empowered to purify both men and women of their sins by their
immersion in study.
Joseph Hamadan, more than any other medieval kabbalist, richly elabo-
rated the analogy of biological function and ritual observance. The menstrual
cycle of the Shekhinah determined the auspicious times for supernal union.
When niddah, she was banned from her husband. She could resume conju-
gal relations only when purified. The flow of the supernal woman became
the archetype for human experience. These ideas inspired the works of the
fourteenth-century kabbalist Menah. em Recanati and later the anonymous
Sefer ha-Qanah.36
isolating the menstruating shekhinah

Thirteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalists not only drew from female
biology to determine the menstrual cycle of the Shekhinah, but also derived
the manner of separating the Shekhinah from her divine husband from human
law — specifically, from rejected customs and from the Beraita d’Niddah. For
example, according to the Raaya Meheimna (RM) a later stratum of the
Zohar, the menstruating Shekhinah must isolate herself in a house of forbid-
den women (bet assurot).37 Such a dwelling recalls the reference to a house
for impure women (bet ha-temeot) found in a manuscript variant of Mishnah
7:4.38 There is no halakhic or archeological evidence for a talmudic practice of
physically separating menstruating women from the community, such as one
finds, for example, in Zoroastrian culture or among Ethiopian Jews.39 Indeed,
Rabbi Aqiva specifically limits the isolation of the menstruant, describing her
as a gemulda, that is to say gemul da mi-baalah, isolated from her husband and
not from the community at large.40 The standard version of the Mishnah de-
scribes a “beit ha-tumot,” a house of impurities, that would function as a
storehouse for items that had contracted impurity.41 The mishnaic reference
to a bet ha-temeot likely derives from a utopian desire to separate all polluted
people from the community of the holy, or it may arise from an orthographic
error.42 This variant reading, however, was known to Rashi, and consequently,
both he and Nahmanides believed that the practice of separating menstruants
was historical.43 The author of the RM probably based his own understanding
of niddah practices on Nahmanides’ tradition and must have believed that
menstruants had inhabited houses of impurity in the mishnaic period. He
may have found his authority in this custom and banished the menstruating
Shekhinah to the forbidden house, reasoning that if menstrual impurity was
not acceptable to the earthly community of Israel, it would certainly be barred
from the divine realm.
Other separations take the form of restrictions in practice rather than ac-
tual physical removal. For example, some rabbis denied menstruants all forms
of adornment so that they might suffer during their flow and discourage sex-
ual advances.44 Rabbi Aqiva, by contrast, permitted niddot to wear makeup
and jewelry lest they disgust their husbands.45 Most rabbinic Jews adhered to
Rabbi Aqiva’s decision, but the earlier prohibition was codified in the BdN.46
Observing the strictures of the BdN, German Pietists and early kabbalists had
forbidden menstruants to adorn themselves.47 Now, thirteenth- and fourteenth-
century kabbalists transferred this ritual practice to the divine realm and de-
nied the menstruating Shekhinah all forms of ornamentation. The Shekhinah
might adorn herself only after she was purified by the supernal ritual bath in
preparation for divine union.48
Unattractive clothing was another means of diminishing sexual attrac-
tiveness. While the Talmud nowhere requires menstruants to wear different
clothes, the Geonic Halakhot Gedolot attests to the custom, and Sefer Miqtsoot
specifically forbids menstruants to wear nice clothes.49 Later, in twelfth-
century Ashkenaz, several works of the Rashi school enlarge upon this pro-
hibition and require menstruants to wear unattractive clothing during their
flow in order to discourage their husbands’ advances. They may resume their
normal mode of dress after purification.50
The Shekhinah must also wear different clothes when menstruating. Ac-
cording to Joseph Hamadan, the Shekhinah always dresses extremely mod-
estly, exposing only her eyes.51 Nonetheless, she commands an extensive ward-
robe of many colors — white, light blue (tekhelet), red, black, ink, green, and
a mixture of white and light blue — which she wears to attract her husband
Tiferet. When “blemished,” she wears other clothes and does not adorn her-
self.52 She may resume wearing her attractive clothing when purified.
The force of this prohibition is apparent in the surprise the RM registers
when it was violated. The author of this later stratum of the Zohar explains
that the sacrifice of the second paschal lamb was instituted to enable those
who were impure during Passover to fulfill their sacrificial obligation a month
later.53 Yet how could the Shekhinah, the recipient of the sacrifice, remain
decorated and in divine service for an entire month? Wouldn’t her menstrual
cycle interfere with this capacity? The answer may be found in a lenient inter-
pretation of human law. The author of Shaarei Teshuvah permits brides to
wear jewelry for the full month after their wedding. The divine bride, the
Shekhinah, like the human bride, may remain decorated for a full thirty days
during Passover.54
The Shekhinah’s clothing not only reflects her menstrual status; it also
discloses the force and nature of the efflux she receives.55 When under the
influence of judgment she wears its color, red, and is described as a blood-
filled vessel of evil.56 This description coincides with BT Shabbat 152a, where
woman is said to be “a vessel filled with excrement and her mouth is filled
with blood, yet all run after her.” Because the term “mouth” commonly refers
to the vagina, the phrase probably denotes a menstruating woman.57 When
the Shekhinah is filled with the powers of excess judgment, she becomes
“blood filled” and must menstruate. Her purity status is manifest in her red
clothing.
Representations of the Shekhinah as menstruating are therefore not only
biological or halakhic analogies to the terrestrial female, but also descriptions
of her moral change within the sefirotic realm. The Shekhinah actually be-
comes a force of evil with the onset of her flow. This metamorphosis is the
subject of my next chapter.

6
The Ontic Metamorphosis of the
Menstruating Shekhinah
The correspondence between the terrestrial and the supernal menstruant is

not merely biological. It also has a moral dimension. When pure, the Shekhi-
nah promotes divine unity. When impure, she becomes a force of evil that
must be banned, literally niddah, from the divine realm. That kabbalists un-
derstood that an aspect of the divine realm as evil was a response to a religious
need — to explain the existence of evil in our world. However, that kabbalists
constructed the myth of the menstruating Shekhinah out of largely periph-
eral traditions that demonized impurity — traditions in which the divine fe-
male would ontically change into an evil force by means of a quotidian female
biological cycle — had dire consequences for women’s spirituality. For if the
Shekhinah could suddenly change like “a revolving sword” from good to evil,
it is inconceivable that terrestrial women could ever attain or sustain the pu-
rity necessary for divine union. The menstruating Shekhinah thus became a
means of justifying women’s exclusion from divine pursuits.
impurity in the sefirotic realm

In the prophetic literature, impurity is used as metaphor for evil and sin. Im-
purity represents evil; purity, good. Kabbalists, however, did not rest with this
essentially descriptive image. Rather, they took the image of impurity to a
new level by infusing it with ontological status. Whereas in the Bible, Jerusa-
lem may be compared to a menstruant because the city’s inhabitants are pol-
luted by sin,1 in Kabbalah, Jerusalem, representing the Shekhinah, actually
becomes a niddah. The metaphor becomes a myth.2
This shift may be attributed in part to the kabbalists’ dissatisfaction with
the philosophical approach to the problem of evil. Believers in one benevo-
lent God are perennially confronted with the existence of evil in the world.
84
How could the ultimate Good “make peace and create evil?”3 The answers of
kabbalists and neoplatonists were diametrically opposed.
While philosophers rejected the reality of evil, Castilian kabbalists embraced
it. Neoplatonists argued that as the final element in the chain of being, evil did
not really exist: it was completely divorced from the divine realm. By contrast,
the kabbalists employed the neoplatonic approach to a different end. Evil
became an essential element within the emanative process of divine attri-
butes known as the sefirot. Early kabbalists based their understanding of evil
on the prophetic verse, “from the north shall evil break loose” ( Jer. 1:14). That
the evil, in the form of the Babylonian enemy, came from the north was a
historical fact; the kabbalistic innovation lay in equating this evil with an aspect
of God. Kabbalists believed that the Godhead was composed of ten knowable
attributes and one, the Ain Sof, which lay beyond human cognition. Begin-
ning with the earliest kabbalistic treatise, the Sefer ha-Bahir, we see evil located
in the sefirah of Pah.ad (fear; Gevurah, or Judgment, in later Kabbalah).4
The kabbalistic perception of evil was enhanced through the symbolism
of impurity. As early as the twelfth century, the Provençal kabbalist Isaac the
Blind (1165–1235) had equated impurity with evil. He explained that “all
things that come from the left side of God are dominated by impurity, as it is
said, ‘from the north shall evil break loose’ ” ( Jer. 1:14).5 Later, when Castilian
kabbalists developed the notion of an independent realm of evil known as the
sitra ah.ra (the other side), they enlarged upon the association between evil
and impurity. The Zohar asserts that “just as there are levels and palaces on
the side of holiness, so also on the side of impurity.”6 The sitra ah.ra became
the side of impurity (sitra masava) that mirrors the holy sefirotic realm. In-
deed, the Zohar identified impurity and evil to such an extent that it uses the
terms sitra masava and sitra ah.ra interchangeably.
Kabbalists do not only consign impurity to the realm of Judgment or the
sitra ah.ra. As we have seen, Jewish law stipulated that one could become im-
pure not only by means of one’s actual physical condition but also through
proximity to a polluting source. Impurities were therefore graded according
to degree. The highest grade of impurity, known as “the father of the fathers of
impurity,” was corpse impurity and was followed by the nine remaining fa-
thers: creeping things, carrion, semen, the waters of purification, sin offerings,
the zavah, the niddah, the zav, and those subject to scale disease. Exposure to
these fathers of impurity results in impurity to the first degree; exposure to a
first-grade impurity results in impurity to the second degree and so through
Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 85
the third- and the fourth-grade impurities. The Geronese scholar Jacob ben
Sheshet transposed this purity system to the heavenly realm. In his Sefer ha-
Emunah ve-ha-Bitah.on, he explains that just as impurities are graded accord-
ing to degree in rabbinic literature, impurities are assigned different grades
in the sefirotic realm. The sixth sefirah, Gevurah, is the locus of the father of
the fathers of impurity, corpse impurity; the fifth sefirah, Tiferet, the fathers
of impurity; the fourth, Netsah., impurity in the first degree, and so on to the
final sefirah, Shekhinah, which is home to impurity in the fourth degree. The
seventh sefirah, H.esed (Lovingkindness), represents the supernal ritual bath
that will purify all the lower sefirot in the messianic age. 7
The sefirot could suffer from impurity because the sefirotic world was
viewed as an organic whole with functions that mirrored our own. Indeed,
the entire sefirotic tree could also be described as the limbs of primordial man
(Adam Qadmon).8 As such, the different limbs could carry out assorted func-
tions that would engender waste and pollution. The Godhead, therefore, like
the body, must purge itself of refuse to maintain homeostasis.9
The perception of the Godhead as an organism needing to rid itself of
pollution to maintain existence may have some affinities to the so-called gro-
tesque genre of literature epitomized in the works of Rabelais. Mikhail Bakhtin
explained that the grotesque body “is cosmic and universal” in so far as the
emphasis on bodily orifices and excretion underscores its limitless nature.
Bakhtin attributes the development of the grotesque to “cosmic terror.” This
fear is not, he says,
mystic in the strict sense of the word; rather it is the fear of that which
is materially huge and cannot be overcome with force. . . . The struggle
against cosmic terror in all its forms and manifestations did not rely on
abstract hope or on eternal spirit, but on the material principle in man
himself. Man assimilated the cosmic elements: earth, water, air and fire; he
discovered them and became vividly conscious of them in his own body.
He became aware of the cosmos within himself.10
This perception of the universe may have been very appealing to kabbalists
when dealing with an issue as ominous as evil. Bodily waste and impurity
became evil reified. Reducing aspects of God to human terms made evil less
terrifying. Indeed, the waste of primordial man was conceived as a means of
exuding evil.11 The most common sources of evil in the sefirotic realm — the
attributes Binah, Gevurah, and Shekhinah — are consequently often described
as eliminating waste.12 When Gevurah is understood to be the locus of evil,
the sefirah is filled to overflowing with impure powers. The fires of Gevurah
must separate holy judgment from these polluted forces. This refining process
results in an overabundance of unnecessary and wasteful power akin to excre-
ment. Since Judgment was often described as gold, evil was compared to the
dross and filth engendered during the purification of this precious metal. In
other instances, waste matter is depicted in bodily images, such as the “letting
of bad blood” or “foul waters flowing from the waste of semen from which
Primordial Man was made.”
When the Shekhinah undergoes catharsis, kabbalists offer a more explicit
analogy to human biology. Like the terrestrial woman, the Shekhinah must
purge herself of unnecessary blood and menstruate. Several kabbalists com-
bined this organic analogy with an existing belief in the nefarious power of
impurity to make of menstruation an example of reified evil. Kabbalistic my-
thology incorporates female biology, and in the sefirotic realm, unmitigated
Judgment and the sitra ah.ra, not the pituitary, occasion the Shekhinah’s flow.
The Dual Nature of the Shekhinah

Kabbalists believed that the Shekhinah possessed both good and evil quali-
ties.13 Gershom Scholem locates the source of her dual nature in the Bible:
kabbalists endowed the Shekhinah with the contrasting qualities of divine
wisdom and “riotous woman folly” of Proverbs 9:13ff.14 Another source for
the duality is the Talmud. Israelites believed that God dwelt first in the Taber-
nacle and then later in the Holy of Holies.15 According to BT Yoma 69b, the
Shekhinah did not reside alone; the evil inclination, the root of lasciviousness
and idolatry, lived in the adytum with her. After their return from Babylonia,
the Jewish community undertook to expel the grammatically “male” evil in-
clination from the Holy of Holies by means of communal prayer and fasting.
Their leader ordered his followers to exorcise that particular demon in the
same way that the “female wickedness” had been expelled in Zechariah 5:8.
Accordingly, they cast the evil inclination into a leaden pot and sealed the
opening with lead “because lead absorbs the voice, as it is said: ‘that is wick-
edness; and thrusting her down into the tub, he [Zechariah] pressed the
leaden weight into its mouth.’ ”16 This identification of the male evil inclina-
tion with the female “wickedness” contributed to a belief in the evil nature of
the Shekhinah.17
Islamic qisas literature (tales of the biblical prophets) may also attest to
this belief. The Arabic term sakina, etymologically related to the Hebrew
Shekhinah, differs in meaning according to context. In a Muslim context, the
Arabic term connotes “calm, peace, safety, security, and tranquility”; when
these Islamic qisas refer to a Jewish context, however, the term sakina con-
notes black magic and demons.18 While this distinction may simply reflect
religious polemic, it may also be based in contemporary Jewish belief. For
example, al-Thalabi explains that when Abraham and Ishmael prepared the
foundation of the sanctuary, “the sakina wound itself upon the original foun-
dation as if it were a serpent, saying: ‘Build upon me, O Abraham!’ ”19 Brinner
relates the image of the sakina as a “serpent that winds itself ” to the Levia-
than, the twisting serpent described in Isaiah.20 Such identification of the
Shekhinah, who dwells in the place of the sanctuary, with the Leviathan or
twisting serpent is consistent with a belief in the dual nature of the aspect of
God that inhabits the sanctuary in BT Yoma 69b.
Kabbalistic representations of the Shekhinah’s dual nature enlarge upon
mythic possibilities in the earlier sources. The Shekhinah receives the effluxes
of the higher sefirot and disperses them to the world below.21 When under
the influence of these benevolent forces, the Shekhinah is filled with divine
powers and bestows blessings upon the world. When she comes under the
influence of harsh Judgment or the sitra ah. ra, however, she becomes evil and
serves as a conduit for their punitive powers. Hence the Shekhinah is de-
scribed as good or evil, permitted or forbidden,22 leavened or unleavened,23
bride or concubine, male or female. Her dual nature is made to correspond to
her cycle: as a purified bride, the Shekhinah becomes an image of good; as an
impure menstruant, the Shekhinah becomes a symbol of evil.24
Menstruation as Evil
Women were associated with the left side of God and believed to originate
within the sefirah of Judgment.25 (Women’s monthly flow of blood was easily
compared to the overflow of the red powers of Judgment, the source of evil in
the sefirotic realm.) For example, Zohar 3:54a identifies the niddah with re-
strained Judgment, and the zavah, whose flow is excessive, with unmitigated
Judgment.26 In her dynamic nature the Shekhinah is often compared to a re-
volving sword, turning from good to evil, mercy to judgment, peace to war.27
When this sword is “filled with blood” (Isa. 34:6), that is to say, filled with the
red effluxes of unmitigated Judgment, the Shekhinah becomes evil.28
Castilian kabbalists, who often entertained a dualistic vision of evil, point
to the sitra ah.ra, rather than to Judgment, as the cause of the menstrual flow.
For example, the fourteenth-century kabbalist Joseph Angelet claims that the
side of the spirits of impurity fills the “revolving sword” with blood.29 His use
of the term “spirits of impurity” to identify the sitra ah.ra reveals a kabbalistic
belief, rooted in rabbinic and Zoroastrian thought, in the close relationship
among menstrual blood, impurity, and the demonic realm.
The Source of Impurity: The Serpent Who Instills Filth

Genesis states that God struck Eve with painful labor as a punishment for al-
lowing herself to be influenced by the serpent; it makes no mention of men-
struation.30 Passages in BT Eruvin and Avot d’Rabbi Natan, however, enlarge
upon the scriptural punishment and claim that menstruation was the first of
ten curses with which God punished women for Eve’s sin.31
It is also possible to understand the serpent, rather than God, as the author
of menstruation. According to several passages in the Talmud and midrash,
the serpent “instilled his filth (zohama)” in Eve while persuading her to eat
from the Tree of Knowledge. Because serpents are often construed as phallic
images, many exegetes have deciphered the act of “instilling” as sexual inter-
course.32 “Filth” could therefore refer either to seminal pollution or to a desire
for illicit sexual relations.33 But the filth that the serpent instilled in Eve may
also refer to menstruation, since the term zohama is used in the Talmud with
reference to menstrual blood.34
Finally, some rabbis may have derived a connection between “foul men-
strual blood” and serpents from contemporary Zoroastrian dualism.35 Purity
was a central concern in the practice and mythology of this dualistic Iranian
religion. Maintaining physical purity strengthened the forces of the benevo-
lent deity Mazda, while impurity aroused the evil god Ahriman. As human
forms of pollution were believed to take on great importance in the cosmic
battle between good and evil, Zoroastrians scrupulously observed menstrual
laws as a means of averting the forces of Ahriman.36
Babylonian rabbis knew Zoroastrian menstrual terms and taboos. For ex-
ample, according to BT Taanit 22a, a jailor in a Persian town who was familiar

with Zoroastrian purity laws protected a betrothed Jewish girl from rape by
pouring wine lees on her skirts and calling her a distana, Middle Persian for
menstruant. Presumably, Zoroastrian rapists would be deterred by menstrual
impurity.37 Beruriah’s sister similarly identified herself as a distana to deter
would-be clients when trapped in a brothel.38 Samuel Secunda suggests that
the term distana may have been a common Aramaic term in Sassanian Persia
used, like the Hebrew phrase “ki temeah ani” (I am impure to you), to deter
undesired sexual advances.39
Zoroastrian menstrual terms may have influenced Jewish practice. Rav
Ashi, for example, claimed the term distana for Jewish practice, attempting to
prove its Hebrew origin by its resemblance to the biblical locution, “the way
of woman is upon me.”40 Moreover, the term appears in the Talmud in one of
only two explicitly disparaging characterizations of menstruants: women are
advised to identify themselves as Persian distana rather than as Hebrew nid-
dah to deter the sexual advances of snakes41 — an association that suggests
the rabbis were acquainted not only with the Zoroastrian impurity laws but
also with the Zoroastrian menstrual myth.
According to Zoroastrian cosmogony, the female power Geh (literally,
“whore”),42 “the personification of the impurity of menstruation,” tried to
strengthen the weakened evil god Ahriman during his cosmic battle with the
benevolent deity Ahura Mazda. After two failed attempts, she managed to
arouse the evil deity by professing a plan to wage war on Ahura Mazda and
the world. These words “delighted” the “evil spirit” and he “kissed Geh upon
the head, and the pollution that became menstruation became apparent in
Geh.”43 In another version of the myth, the spirit of menstruation went on to
become Ahriman’s demon whore and chief of all “whore demons.” Her explicit
mission was to “defile females; and the females, because they were defiled,
might defile the males, and [the males] would turn aside from their proper
work.” She was “the most grievous adversary of the Righteous Man.”44
According to some midrashim, the serpent, identified with Satan, instills
impurity into Eve just as Ahriman makes menstruation apparent in Geh.45
Menstruation is neither the creation of a benevolent God nor a divine pun-
ishment; rather, it is ab initio the product of evil.
These mythological underpinnings of menstruation, rarely mentioned in
the Talmud, appear prominently in Kabbalah. Just as the terrestrial serpent
instills filth in Eve, the filthy primordial serpent instills menstrual impurity in
the Shekhinah.46 For example, Isaac of Acre explains that “the evil inclination
is the primordial serpent who cast his filth upon the woman [Shekhinah] and
this is the blood of menstruation.”47 In the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai
formulates a dualistic version of this idea. He explains that when the Shekhi-
nah is weakened by the sins of the world, she cannot protect herself from
evil.48 Samael, the leader of the forces of impurity, is then drawn to her innate
qualities of Judgment and impurity, and instills in her the polluting powers of
the sitra ah.ra in the form of menstrual blood.49 She is then declared impure
and is considered an unfit mate for the pure supernal male. The menstruating
Shekhinah remains attractive to Samael, and, in keeping with a basic rule of
Zoharic magic whereby elements are drawn to their own kind,50 she becomes
his concubine.51 She attracts the spirits of impurity and becomes a source of
danger to all who approach her.52 The Shekhinah may then be called Lilith,
the demon consort of Samael, and compared to a concubine (pilegesh), maid-
servant (shifh. ah), or harlot (zonah).53 Just as the Zoroastrian Geh becomes
the “demon whore” of Ahriman, the Shekhinah becomes Samael’s impure
concubine.
It is impossible to conclusively prove any direct Zoroastrian influence on
kabbalists. Given their predilection for mythological interpretations, they
may have independently enlarged upon the Talmudic story of the serpent
instilling his filth into Eve to create the image of the Shekhinah as impure
concubine. However, some medieval Jewish halakhists were certainly aware
of Zoroastrian menstrual laws. Maimonides, for example, explains that among
the “remnants of the Magians,” the menstruating woman “remains isolated in
her house; the places upon which she treads are burnt; whoever speaks with
her becomes impure; and if a wind that blows passes over a menstruating
woman and a clean individual, the latter becomes impure.”54 Moshe Idel has
suggested that ninth-century French Jews entertained a belief in the evil
thought of the deity that was adapted from Zoroastrian myth,55 and in the
thirteenth century, kabbalists may also have been influenced by Joseph Ha-
madan, a member of the literary circle that created the Zohar, who may have
been acquainted with Zoroastrianism.56 In Hebrew, Joseph is named R. Yosef
ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah (Rabbi Joseph who came from Susa the Capitol).
Susa was an Iranian city, popularized in the Book of Esther, that came to be
known as Hamadan in the Middle Ages. Shlomo Pines suggests that Joseph’s
“appellation was not gratuitous, that it meant to point to some kind of con-
nection between him and Susa; he may have been a native of that city or have
sojourned in it.” Following this line of thought, Joseph may have become
acquainted with Zoroastrianism while in Hamadan and later transmitted its
precepts to the Circle of the Zohar in Castile.57
The Shekhinah as Impure Concubine

Thirteenth-century kabbalists framed the notion of relations between the
Shekhinah and Yesod or Tiferet in terms of biblical descriptions of the rela-
tionship between God and Israel, who when faithful is a loving wife and when
unfaithful is an adulteress.58 The conjugal images of terrestrial Israel were
eventually applied to supernal Israel, the Shekhinah, and used to describe her
dual nature. Some kabbalists add purity status to the myth. When pure, the
Shekhinah is the divine consort of Yesod or Tiferet; when impure, she attracts
the powers of impurity and becomes a polluting concubine.59
Moses de Leon conflates purity status and marital status in his Mishkan
Edut, where he explains that wisdom and her enemy, the alien woman (Prov-
erbs 7:3–4), are one in the Shekhinah.60 Her nature turns upon her purity
status. When pure, the Shekhinah is wisdom; when menstruating, she is the
“alien woman.”61 The male (Tiferet) and female (Shekhinah), who are usually
united, separate only when “her adulteries are between her breasts” (Hos. 2:4),
that is, when she menstruates. For when niddah, the Shekhinah is banned by
her true spouse, attracts the attention of Samael, and becomes “his woman.”
This sexual union is considered “impure as menstrual impurity” because the
Shekhinah behaves “like a harlot who abandons her ancestral guide”62 and
has gone “astray in her own evil works.”63 Menstrual blood, like a chemical
reagent, effects an ontic change in the Shekhinah, and she enters into a new
combination.
The Possession of the Menstruating Shekhinah

Other kabbalists believed that the menstruating Shekhinah did not actually
change into an evil adulteress at the onset of her flow, but rather was dis-
placed by an evil maidservant. Ecclesiastes 5:8 literally reads “a king controls
a field that is cultivated” (melekh le-sadeh neevad). The Zohar suggests an
alternate interpretation by which the Hebrew neevad modifies the king
rather than the field.64 According to this reading, “the king becomes subject
to the field.” The king represents the pure Shekhinah (malkhut), who fears
the Lord, like the woman in Proverbs 31:30. The field represents her impure
mirror image, the strange woman of Proverbs 7:5. Thus the mystical sense of
Ecclesiastes teaches that when impure, the Shekhinah becomes subject to this
alien woman and is then plunged into darkness, and “the handmaid becomes
heir to her mistress” (Prov. 30:23). She may only regain her rightful position
in the supernal realm upon purification.
The RM similarly finds the menstruating Shekhinah and the evil maid-
servant in Proverbs 30:23.65 The mistress is the Shekhinah; the handmaid, an
evil maidservant.66 When the Shekhinah menstruates, the text explains, her
holy aspect, the good inclination, represented by the letter heh, wanders
away.67 No longer the unblemished mistress, she becomes possessed by the
impure handmaiden. The exegete gives his interpretation levitical authority
by adducing the quotation “like a plague in the house” and relating the
“plague,” originally a reference to leprosy, to “the impure blood of menstrua-
tion.”68 The menstrual plague enters the “house,” a commonplace euphemism
for the female reproductive organs, and transforms the Shekhinah from pure
bride to evil maidservant. The Shekhinah can become purified and be restored
to her original state only when she, like a house infected with leprosy, is purged
of all impure elements. Purification from the menstrual flow is thus the only
means of exorcising the evil maidservant.
The RM also relates the image of the handmaid heir to her mistress to
lunar symbolism.69 The Shekhinah as moon is considered good when she is
full and pure, and bad when she is incomplete and impure. These external
states reflect internal changes. When the moon is full, she is able to join with
the third patriarch, Tiferet, and with the Righteous One (Tsaddiq), Yesod.
When she is in darkness, however, she becomes possessed by the maidservant.
The handmaid usurps the good aspect of her lady and exiles her to a prison
under the dominion of Samael.70
Menstruation as Exile
The nonsequential concurrent explanations of the menstruating Shekhinah
by the maidservant or concubine also become a means of explaining the pop-
ular myth of the exile of the Shekhinah. According to Talmudic legend, the
Shekhinah accompanied the community of Israel into exile. In the Kabbalah,
this myth is transferred to the sefirotic realm, and the Shekhinah herself is
exiled from the other divine sefirot.71 Tishby describes four different versions
of her exile: (1) the Shekhinah, like a concerned mother, goes into exile to
protect her children; (2) God sends the Shekhinah into exile to protect her
children; (3) God sends the Shekhinah into exile as a form of punishment;
(4) the Shekhinah goes into exile when dominated by the forces of the “other
side.”72 Some kabbalists assimilate this latter formulation into the conceit of
the menstruating Shekhinah.
When the Shekhinah is niddah, her holy aspect departs, and she becomes
evil. She is banned from the divine sefirot and must remain in exile. In his
“Mystery of the Exile of the Shekhinah,” Joseph Angelet explains that the
Shekhinah goes into exile when she is forced to separate from her husband
and “nurse” exclusively from the attribute of unmitigated Judgment.73 This
sefirotic representation appears in rabbinic literature among discussions of
the ten types of impurity in man and the ten degrees of holiness in the land of
Israel.74 The land of Israel represents the Shekhinah; the ten degrees of holi-
ness, the divine sefirot; and the ten impurities, the side of impurity. The land
of Israel, that is, the Shekhinah, may be revealed when she is able to receive
effluxes from the ten sefirot, the ten degrees of holiness. When she becomes
polluted by the forces of the side of impurity, however, she is exiled and an
evil maidservant assumes her position.
This close association between exile and menstruation bore directly on
halakhic practice. In the Zohar, men are warned against violating the laws of
niddah lest they bring about the exile of the Shekhinah.75 In Leviticus, God
warns Israel not to commit sexual transgressions lest they defile the land (Lev.
18:25). Kabbalists interpret this verse as referring not merely to the terrestrial
land of Israel but to the supernal land as well. Sexual relations with menstru-
ating women on earth have the theurgic power to pollute the Shekhinah.
Once polluted, the Shekhinah is niddah, banned from the holy sefirot, result-
ing in her exile.76
The Secret of the Serpent

In his “Secret of the Serpent” (Sod ha-Nah.ash), Joseph Gikatilla offers a dif-
ferent spin on the opposition between impure menstrual blood and the holy
Hekhal. He argues that menstrual laws are a theurgic means to maintain
boundaries between the polluted serpent and the sefirotic realm, and as
such they serve a positive function.77 Gikatilla believed that everything in
the world, including evil, has a purpose.78 “There is no evil that does not con-
tain some good . . . there is nothing evil in its proper place.” Harmony will
prevail as long as the boundaries between good and evil are maintained. If
barriers break down and “the externals enter the internal, or the internals
[enter] the externals,” however, then “all orders will be corrupted.”79 For Gi-
katilla, observing menstrual separation is an essential means of maintaining
temporal boundaries.80 Women are forbidden for approximately twelve days
a month. Trespass over this temporal restriction violates the boundaries be-
tween the pure and impure realms and enables the serpent to enter the divine
sanctuary.81
Female impurity, like the impurity of the first fruits, is time-bound. The
term for first fruits (orlah) derives from the same root as the term for foreskin
(orlah). According to Eilberg-Schwartz, this suggests that both immature
fruits and the penis must wait a requisite amount of time and be “pruned” in
order to be sanctified and productive.82 Leviticus Rabbah extends this anal-
ogy to the menstruant:
“Three years it shall be forbidden for you” (Lev. 19:23), after which is writ-
ten, “You shall not eat anything with its blood” (Lev. 19:26). Now what
connection is there between this text and that? The Holy One, blessed
be He, in effect says to Israel: “You wait three years in the case of forbid-
den fruit, yet you do not wait for your wife to observe the period of her
impurity.”83
According to Leviticus, a niddah is biblically forbidden for the first seven
days, orlah for the first three years. After the established waiting period, how-
ever, both are permitted and their use is blessed.84 Gikatilla gives cosmic sig-
nificance to this analogy. Women, like the serpent, are beneficial as long as
they respect their boundaries; while the serpent is bound by place, women
are bound by time. Sexual relations during the period of purity are a blessed
act because they foster divine and mystical union. Sexual relations during im-
purity are illicit because the act breaks the barriers between the holy and the
impure in the cosmos.85 Menstrual laws are therefore necessary to maintain
the proper boundaries between the pure and the impure, good and evil.86
Gikatilla’s analysis of menstruation foreshadows Mary Douglas’s now
classic anthropological treatment of Leviticus in Purity and Danger. Douglas
describes purity laws as a means of imposing order on a chaotic world. She
believes that “dirt is essentially disorder” and that societies construct purity
laws to impose order on “untidy experience.”87 Purity rituals, however, are
not universal:
The power in the universe is ultimately hitched to society, since so many
changes of fortune are set off by persons in one kind of social position or
another. But there are dangers to be reckoned with, which persons may set
off knowingly or unknowingly, which are not part of the psyche, and which
are not to be bought or learned by initiation and training. These are pollu-
tion powers which inhere in the structure of ideas itself and which punish
a symbolic breaking of that which should be joined or joining of that which
should be separate. It follows from this that pollution is a type of danger
which is not likely to occur except where the lines of structure cosmic or
social are clearly defined.88
Maintaining proper boundaries between purity and impurity thus not

only reflects but also maintains the social order. Douglas suggests that the Is-
raelites’ belief in the impurity of bodily issue reflects their political situation.
“The threatened boundaries of their body politic,” she writes, “would be well
mirrored in their care for the integrity, unity, and purity of the physical
body.”89 This understanding, which Douglas has since refined, applies to the
position of Jews in medieval Castile. To be sure, Castilian Jews benefitted
from a cultural renaissance in thirteenth-century Castile. Alfonso the Wise
fostered the intellectual environment that facilitated Gikatilla’s spiritual ex-
pression. However, the king also needed to create a cohesive state out of
disparate communities with longstanding regional differences. Christianity
became the means of uniting people with different customs and dialects. Re-
inforcing boundaries between Christians and all others was an essential part
of what Flory has called Alfonso’s “devotional statecraft.”90 His Siete Partidas
(1265) required that Jews wear distinctive clothing, in an effort to forestall
miscegenation between Jews and Christians; Jews responded by reinforcing
boundaries between Jews and Christians, pure and impure.91
the sex of the menstruating shekhinah

Up to this point, I have argued that the Shekhinah’s menstrual flow occasions
a profound change in her state of being. Some representations of the Shekhi-
nah, however, suggest that her flow brings about no essential change in a na-
ture that is fundamentally sinister. Rather, it is when the Shekhinah is not
menstruating that she changes — from female to male.92
The Zohar often describes the benevolent Shekhinah in male terms or as
as a grammatical masculine.93 She is the “angel that is sometimes male and
sometimes female. When it bestows blessing upon the world it is male and
it is called male like a man who bestows blessings upon a woman. When it
stands in Judgment upon the world it is called female.”94 Moreover, Elliot
Wolfson has shown that some kabbalists not only make the female male, they
also make the male female: positively perceived female biological functions,
such as pregnancy and nursing, become functions of the male. For example,
Binah, considered the supernal mother of the seven lower sefirot, and Shekhi-
nah, the lower mother, are denoted by masculine pronouns or described in
phallic terms when lactating or pregnant; parturition and lactation are com-
pared to ejaculation.95 Because medieval kabbalists perceived the menstrual
cycle as evil, menstruation is the one female process that remains securely
feminine. Indeed, when menstruating, the supernal woman separates from
her male counterpart with no possibility of divine union.
In his Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, Joseph Hamadan provides several other
examples of the Shekhinah’s versatile gender. In a discussion of the need to
send the impure out of the camp of the Shekhinah, he explains:
when the Shekhinah rests upon the Temple, he is the supernal Glory
(Kavod), and there is no need for impurity in the face of the power of im-
purity that enters [the sanctuary] because it is not in his [the Shekhinah’s]
nature to rest within their four cubits.96
When the Shekhinah is completely pure, she becomes a he.97 When the She-
khinah is “blemished,” however, she remains a she. The menstruating Shekhi-
nah is consistently of feminine gender in Hamadan’s rationale for not engag-
ing in sexual relations with menstruants.98 In his Sefer Tashaq, he alters the
gender of the Shekhinah according to her purity status: “When she is blem-
ished,99 she wears different clothes . . . she does not adorn herself or wear jew-
elry before the Holy One blessed be He, as when he is whole.”100 The Zohar
likewise compares the purified Shekhinah to a masculine king.101
Thirteenth-century kabbalists conceived the Shekhinah as living the life of a

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that turns, like a revolving sword, according to her
purity status. In the next chapter, we turn to the impact of this mythology on
scientific and religious attitudes toward women.

7
The Interplay between Myth,
Science, and Law
Medieval kabbalists derived some aspects of their understanding of menstru-

ation from contemporary science. Medieval physicians and natural philoso-
phers used ancient Greek philosophy to justify women’s physical inferiority.
Certain thirteenth-century kabbalists adapted these ideas to prove Jewish
women’s spiritual inferiority. These mystical ideas filtered into sermons and
ethical literature to the detriment of medieval Jewish women.
Science and faith were inextricably intertwined in the Middle Ages.1 Cler-
ics would attend to both spiritual and physical needs because the need to care
for the body coincided with the need to care for the soul.2 Until the rise of
universities in the twelfth century, monasteries were the centers of scientific
knowledge, and even after the professionalization of medicine in the thir-
teenth century, Christian physicians continued to look to the Bible, in addi-
tion to their license, as the source of their authority.3 Indeed, many Christian
physicians who received medical degrees went on to pursue higher degrees in
theology.4 It is not surprising that several Christian theologians used medical
theories in the service of theology.5
This nexus between science and faith was not limited to Christianity. Al-
though Jews were excluded from universities, some aspiring physicians stud-
ied medicine unofficially with members of the medical faculty while others
studied privately.6 Just as many Christian physicians were theologians, many
Jewish doctors were also rabbis who could employ scientific theories in sup-
port of theological and legal arguments.7 In fact, Kabbalah emerges contem-
poraneously with the rediscovery of Galen and Aristotle in the Latin West,
and some thirteenth-century kabbalists endeavored to discern divine secrets
with the aid of the “new” Greek knowledge.
There is, however, no such thing as knowledge in the abstract. Michel Fou-
cault has taught us that no knowledge exists outside the confines of a given
98
cultural context. And medieval culture was patriarchal. Thus, when a misogy-
nist theology is wedded to scientific theories that justify female inferiority,
the results are devastating. The kabbalistic understanding of the laws of the
menstruating woman is a prime example of this failed marriage. In Leviticus,
menstruants were deemed ritually impure for cultic practice (15:19) and pro-
hibited to their husbands in a catalog of forbidden sexual relations (20:18).
After the destruction of the Temple, sexual relations with menstruants con-
tinued to be forbidden on the basis of Leviticus 20:18. Isaac the Blind (1165–
1235), one of the first kabbalists in Provence, and Nahmanides (1194–1270),
the leader of the Jewish community in Barcelona, both used medieval natural
philosophy and science in the service of kabbalistic theology to explain the
mystical secret inherent in this prohibition. Isaac the Blind adopted a Galenic
model of menstruation to locate the menstruating woman within the sefirah
of Judgment, the locus of evil in the sefirotic realm. Nahmanides, by contrast,
used, with far more devastating results, an Aristotelian model in which medi-
eval medicine, natural philosophy, and Kabbalah reinforce one another to
create an image of the menstruating woman as the human incarnation of the
demonic other side (sitra ah.ra). The restrictive laws of the Beraita d’Niddah
(BdN) were the only means to forestall her dangers.
isaac the blind and the

origin of menstrual blood
The Mishnah identifies five different types of impure menstrual blood. These
flow from the “room” or “fountain” (maqor), terms traditionally used for the
uterus.8 In one of the earliest kabbalistic discussions of gynecology, Isaac
the Blind refines this anatomical description by defining the term maqor
as the left section of the uterus. According to this reading, impure menstrual
blood flows not from the entire womb but rather from the left section alone.
Isaac explains that only sinister blood is impure because “all things which
come from the left, the side of stern Judgment, are governed by impurity, as it
is written, ‘from the North shall evil break loose’ ” ( Jer. 1:14).9 The menstrual
flow is the material manifestation of the powers of stern Judgment; its red hue
reflects the fiery color of its source.
Isaac the Blind’s theology of menstruation demonstrates an intersection of
kabbalistic theosophy, medicine, and natural philosophy governed by ancient
Greek science and philosophy. The low esteem in which women were held in
Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law · 99
ancient Greece expressed itself in contemporary gynecology in a dichotomy
of left and right.10 In his article “On the Pre-eminence of the Right Hand,”
Robert Hertz explains that dualism was essential to the social organization of
developing societies. “On the one side, there is the pole of strength, good, and
life, while on the other there is the pole of weakness and evil . . . All oppo-
sitions presented by nature [including the opposition of male and female]
exhibit this fundamental dualism.”11A dichotomy between the right and left
sides of the body was a natural outgrowth of this worldview. The right repre-
sented everything sacred, strong, and male, while the left represented the pro-
fane, weak, and female.12
This assumption was implicit in Greek culture and became the basis of
Hellenistic medical conceptions of sexual differentiation.13 For example, the
Hippocratic Superfetation explains that the right and left testicles emit semen
independently. Semen emitted from the left testicle engenders females, and
semen from the right, males. Other Hippocratic writings suppose that sex is
determined by the placement of the seed in the uterus. If seed is placed on the
left side of the uterus, the child will be female; if placed on the right, male.14
Later, Galen supplies physiological justification for Hippocrates’ understand-
ing of sexual differentiation. Hippocrates assumed that the human womb, like
the wombs of other mammals, contained two or more pockets. Aristotle
compared the womb to testicles and concluded that the uterus must also be
made up of two parts.15 Galen believed that the chambers of the uterus cor-
respond to the number of teats. Since women have two breasts, the human
uterus has two distinct cavities, a right and a left.16 The right side of the uterus
receives cleansed blood from the large blood vessels, the vena cava and the
“artery from the great artery,” while the left side of the uterus receives bloods
that “do not start from the great vessels themselves, but from the vessels pass-
ing through the kidneys.” Galen explains that
the left testis in the male and the left uterus in the female receive blood still
uncleansed, full of residues, watery and serous, and so it happens that the
temperaments of the instruments themselves that receive the blood be-
come different. For just as full blood is warmer than blood full of residues,
so, too, the instruments on the right side, nourished with pure blood, be-
come warmer than those on the left.17
The sex of the child is determined by the conditions in which the seed grows.
If a seed from the right testicle grows on the right chamber of the uterus, the
embryo will be nourished by warm blood and become male; if the seed from
the left testicle is implanted in the cold and wet left section, the embryo will
become female. Qualitative differences between men and women therefore
begin in utero. Males are engendered from superior material, in warm and dry
conditions, on the highly valued right side of the uterus, while women are
created from residue in the cold and wet left. Women’s inferiority is justified
“biologically.”
These Hippocratic and Galenic ideas on sexual differentiation are absent
in the Talmud.18 Rather, the rabbis present an understanding of sexual differ-
entiation more akin to Democritus’ and Aristotle’s. Many ancient physicians
believed that both men and women possess generative seed that combines to
create a fetus. Male seed is semen, while female seed is either menstrual blood
or the vaginal fluid emitted during sexual arousal.19 Democritus asserts that
sex is determined by which of these seeds prevails in the uterus after sexual
intercourse.20 Aristotle maintains Democritus’ essentially “combative model”
of sexual differentiation, yet denies the existence of generative female seed.21
Semen alone generates the form of the fetus, while menstrual blood merely
provides the material. Aristotle compares this process to making cheese: just
as rennet curdles milk to create cheese, male seed creates the child out of fe-
male matter. Rather than attribute sexual differentiation to the interaction of
two types of seed, Aristotle attributes it to the kind of nourishment available
to the child in utero. Semen, being form, will strengthen the fetus and create a
male, while menstrual blood, being material, provides nourishment sufficient
only to create a female. Gender depends upon which type of nourishment
prevails. “If the male semen gains mastery, it brings [the material menstrual
blood] over to itself,” engendering a male. “If it [semen] gets mastered, it
changes over either into its opposite [a female] or else into extinction.”22 The
Talmud explains that if a woman emits her seed first, the child will be male,
while if the male emits his seed first, the child will be a female. Although the
rabbis cite a biblical proof text as their source, they seem to present a simpli-
fied version of the theories of Democritus and Aristotle. When the first emis-
sion of seed is overshadowed by the second, the second sex prevails.23
Isaac the Blind uses this biological theory to interpret theosophical mys-
teries. Sefer Yetsirah (Book of Creation), for example, classifies the Hebrew let-
ters aleph, mem, and shin as the “three mothers of the alphabet.” God seals the
male with the combination emesh (çma) and the female with ashem (μça).
Commentators undertook to explain why the male is identified with the
combination aleph, mem, shin and the female with the aleph, shin, mem — that
is to say, why the inversion of the letters should determine a change in gender.
Isaac the Blind finds his answer in the talmudic theory of sexual differentia-
tion. Just as a woman’s seed is the first component emitted in the production
of a male child, the female element esh (fire), associated with the letter shin,
is the first element in the creation of a male, producing the term ashem.24 Just
as a man’s seed is the first component emitted in the production of a female
child, the male element, mayim, associated with the letter mem, is the first ele-
ment in the creation of a female, producing the term emesh.25
Isaac the Blind offers another interpretation of the rabbinic theory of sex-
ual differentiation to justify the purity laws of the parturient. He compares
the struggle between the male and female seeds in the uterus to the conflict
between Judgment and H.esed in the sefirotic realm. When a woman emits
her impure red seed first, the pure, white, male seed will prevail. White will
prevail over red, right over left, H.esed over Judgment, and a male child will be
born. Because purity triumphs, the parturient remains impure for only seven
days. When a man’s pure white seed comes under the domination of impure,
red, female seed, red will prevail over white, impurity over purity, Judgment
over H.esed, and a female child will be born. The parturient will remain under
the influence of the dominant impure forces for fourteen days.26
The Talmud was not Isaac the Blind’s only source of medical knowledge.
He also drew upon contemporary scientific theory. Though not a physician
himself, Isaac the Blind lived near one of the greatest centers of medical learn-
ing in medieval Europe, the College of Montpelier. Although Jews were offi-
cially forbidden to matriculate, many Jews studied with members of the fac-
ulty independently. Moreover, his father, Abraham ben David, had written
Baalei ha-Nefesh, a guide to proper sexual behavior influenced by contempo-
rary Christian attitudes toward sexuality.27 It is likely that Isaac was familiar
with popular medical ideas.
Greek medicine remained influential long after the ancient period. After
the fall of the Roman empire, Syrian Christians began to translate Greek medi-
cal texts and the Septuagint into Aramean. Expelled by the Byzantine Church,
Nestorian Christians from Syria found refuge in Iran, where they quickly built
a school and a hospital. The Muslims who captured Persia in 636 appreciated
the Nestorian effort and encouraged translation of Syriac medical works into
Arabic. Galen exerted greater influence on Arabic medicine than Hippocrates,
Soranus, or Aristotle.28 His gynecological theories were systematically codified
in Arabic medical treatises and later transmitted to medieval Europe by means
of Latin translations.29 Constantine the African was the first to introduce Ga-
lenic gynecology to the Latin West in his Pantegni, a translation of al Majusi’s
Al Kunnas al Maliki.30 By the twelfth century, Galenic gynecology was the stan-
dard in medical education, and the opposition between the right and left cham-
bers of the uterus became established in the medieval scientific imagination.31
Since a number of the translators were Jewish (the most notable being
the Provençal physician, Moses ben Samuel ibn Tibbon), Jewish physicians
were certainly familiar with Galen’s bicameral theory of the uterus.32 Indeed, we
have manuscript evidence that at least three gynecological texts, including Sefer
ha- Em shel Galynus (Galen’s Book on the Womb) were available in Hebrew as
early as 1199.33 The opposition between right and left became so prevalent in
Jewish medicine that Maimonides, who had ridiculed Hippocrates’ and Ga-
len’s belief that sexual differentiation depends on the right or left origin of gen-
erative forces, conceded that “male fetuses, in most cases, are conceived by a
woman on the right side [of the uterus], whereas the female [fetus is conceived]
on the left side. The reverse of this situation only happens exceptionally.”34
Just as Isaac the Blind used talmudic medicine to support his theosophical
exegesis, he adapted medieval gynecological theories to fit his kabbalistic
needs. Isaac’s student, Ezra of Gerona, followed suit. In his commentary on
the commandments, he explains:
Another matter that you need to know is that five things are impure be-
cause their coloration tends toward red — but that which tends toward
white is pure. The H.akhamim were experts, proficient in recognizing
whether its hues (resulting from vaginal discharge) were from the source
(maqor), and thus presumed to be from the left side — this is the blood
that comes from the chamber (h.eder) and the upper chamber (aliyah)35 —
or whether they tended toward white, and are thus presumed to be of the
right side, and thus pure.36
The sages of the Mishnah described vaginal blood as ranging in color from
black to red to yellow. Ezra of Gerona is blind to these distinctions, and con-
siders all vaginal discharge the fiery product of the left.
The dichotomy between right and left is ubiquitous in Kabbalah.37 The left
was denominated feminine, impure, and evil, while the right was denomi-
nated male, pure, and good. The Galenic theory of the bicameral uterus offers
biological evidence for this kabbalistic precept. Isaac the Blind fuses Galen’s
anatomical theory with talmudic tradition and restricts the rabbinic defini-
tion of the term maqor, the source of impure menstrual blood, to the left
section of the uterus. The sinister sefirah of Judgment, like the left chamber
of the uterus, becomes the repository of uncleansed, impure blood that con-
tributes to the engenderment of female children. Just as the flawed medical
theory that women are produced on the left side of the uterus supports phil-
osophical conceptions of female inferiority, the belief that women and men-
strual blood originate in the left chamber of the uterus supports the kabbalis-
tic belief in the evil nature of the niddah.
nahmanides
Like Isaac the Blind, the medieval polymath Nahmanides (1194–1270), incor-
porates contemporary gynecological theories into his understanding of the
nature of menstruants. In his commentary on the levitical interdiction against
approaching menstruants, Nahmanides explains that God permits man to en-
gage in sexual relations for procreative purposes alone. A fetus can be created
only out of pure female blood. Menstruating women cannot contribute to the
material creation of a fetus because their blood is impure.38 Indeed, “how
could menstrual blood create a fetus when it is itself a deadly poison that can
kill any living being who drinks or eats it?”39 Any fetus that actually eats men-
strual poison will die; any trace of menstrual blood in the uterus will inflict
either leprosy or boils. The Torah therefore forbids sexual relations with men-
struating women because they cannot engender healthy offspring.40
Nahmanides then shifts the emphasis of his commentary from the “medi-
cal risks” of menstrual blood to the dangers of the niddah herself. Nahman-
ides reports that a menstruant who gazes into a ferrous mirror at the begin-
ning of her flow will cause red drops, like drops of blood, to appear on the
metal. “For the harmful and evil nature of the issue produces an odor and this
foul air attaches to the mirror just as a basilisk kills with its gaze.” This evil in-
fluence may infect a man just as it does a mirror and contaminate his mind
and body. Nahmanides reads this notion into his Torah commentary, inter-
preting the levitical phrase “her niddah will be upon him” as biblical proof for
menstrual contagion.41
Nahmanides supports his claim on the basis of empirical evidence, stress-
ing that these powers are not folkloric fantasies but “actual experiences.”
He considers the menstruous gaze “one of the most miraculous works in
nature”42 and warns of the very real danger of menstrual pollution. In his
commentary on Leviticus 20:18 — If a man lies with a woman in her infir-
mity and uncovers her nakedness, he has laid bare her flow and she has ex-
posed her blood flow — Nahmanides explains that the menstruating woman
is like a fountain (maqor) of blood that must not be exposed lest she spew
forth her evil and destructive waters. She is taboo to “the holy seed” (Isa.
6:13) for all the days of her impurity, until she immerses herself in water, for
only then she will be purified in her mind and body and become completely
clean.43
Nahmanides’ focus on the dangers of the menstruant in his Torah com-
mentary is in stark contrast to the original intent of the priestly writers, who
sought to distance impurity and danger from the menstruant. Leviticus lists
four categories of people with issue — the zav, ejaculant, niddah, and zavah
— who are barred from the Temple cult because of the demands of ritual pu-
rity. The priestly authors, however, only explicitly describe the zav, ejaculant,
and zavah as ritually impure (tameh). This absence of the niddah is not an
oversight. Rather, it likely reflects the priestly authors’ reaction to the prac-
tices of other Near Eastern cults that believed menstruants were dangerous
because they were possessed by impure spirits.44 Indeed, according to Leviti-
cus 15:20–25, menstrual blood contaminates, not the menstruant. She renders
impure only what lies beneath her — that is, objects that could become pol-
luted by menstrual blood. In contrast to other Near Eastern cultic leaders
who concentrated on exorcising spirits of impurity from the polluted, Israel-
ite priests distanced impurity from the menstruant herself to the items that
she touched, partly in order to suppress the notion that her impurity consti-
tutes any kind of possession or contagion.45
Nahmanides’ Torah commentary is unusual among his writings in its
treatment of niddot. His Laws of Niddah (Hilkhot Niddah) and his Novellae on
the Tractate Niddah (H.iddushim al Massekhet Niddah) show no disparage-
ment of menstruating women.46 Moreover, Nahmanides was a physician,
and we know that he treated gynecological problems.47 Elsewhere, he de-
scribes the menstrual flow as a natural “cleansing of surpluses [of blood]” and
disagrees with Rashi and Abraham ibn Ezra, who suggest that menstruation
is a sickness.48 How could Nahmanides, a physician with experience treat-
ing patients, subscribe to a notion as fanciful as the ocular powers of the
menstruant?
Nahmanides’ scientific education introduced him to the concept of the
menstruous eye. During the course of the thirteenth century, gynecological
theory shifted from the Galenic tradition to the Aristotelian, with unhappy
consequences for the status of women in both Jewish and Christian society.49
And Nahmanides, thirty years Isaac’s junior, incorporates these new ideas
into both his Torah commentary and his sermon “Torat ha-Shem Temimah”
to support his theology.50
Aristotle believed that females were “incomplete males.”51 Maleness was
the norm and femaleness, a “lack of maleness.” Men represented active, spiri-
tual form and women, passive, material matter.52 Among ancient authors,
Aristotle alone denied that women produce seed. Aristotle also construed
menstruation differently. Most Greek physicians believed that menstruation
had a purgative function. Hippocrates, for example, believed that women,
being spongier than men, cannot expel fluids easily and must menstruate.
Men can expel waste by other means.53 Galen similarly explains that men
are warmer than women and better able to purge themselves of superfluous
fluids through physical activity, perspiration, and excretion. Women, whose
humor is cold, must menstruate in order to excrete excess fluid and maintain
their humoral balance.54 Here, too, the menstrual flow is purgative.55 Aristo-
tle, however, takes a different approach. He understands blood as a bodily
nourishment and deduces that blood not used as nourishment becomes
bodily residue. Men, who are hot and dry, are able to convert this residue into
a generative force, semen, while in women, who are cold and wet, it remains
“unconcocted” and must be excreted in the form of menstrual blood.56 Men-
strual blood is a manifestation of female incapacity.
The “menstruous gaze” that Nahmanides reports emerges from this Aris-
totelian view. In Aristotle’s treatise On Dreams, we read that menstruation af-
flicts the entire female body. Because the eyes contain so many blood vessels,
they are particularly susceptible to this “feverish disorder of the blood.”
Hence, a fiction about the ocular powers of the menstruant: just as that which
is heated and becomes hot may heat something else in turn, not only does
one see, but the very act of seeing creates an effect.57 Therefore,
if a woman looks into a highly polished mirror during the menstrual pe-
riod, the surface of the mirror becomes clouded with a blood-red color
(and if the mirror is a new one the stain is not easy to remove, but if it is
an old one there is less difficulty) . . . The reason for this is that . . . when

menstruation takes place, as a result of a feverish disorder of the blood, the
difference of condition in the eyes, though invisible to us, is none the less
real; and the eyes set up a movement in the air. This imparts a certain qual-
ity to the layer of air extending over the mirror, and assimilates it to itself;
and this layer becomes the surface of the mirror.58
This fiction was a fruitful one. Pliny, for example, claimed that menstruants
could dull mirrors.59 In the Middle Ages, the menstruant was explicitly asso-
ciated with the basilisk, a poisonous serpent whose glance or breath was be-
lieved to cause death.60 As the basilisk is filled with venom, the menstruant is
filled with blood, and by analogy, the menstruant’s blood becomes venom-
ous. Both the basilisk and the menstruant emit their poison through their
eyes and corrupt the air. The air then transmits the poison into the eyes of
others.
After the thirteenth-century rediscovery of Aristotle in the Latin West,
natural philosophers conflated the popular association of the menstruant and
the basilisk with the account of the menstruant in On Dreams. Albertus Mag-
nus, for example, explained that because the eye is a very passive organ, the
menstrual flow can easily infect the eyes of a menstruant and emit a vapor
that infects everything she sees.61 Associating menstruants with basilisks, he
warns his readers to “to beware of every woman as one would avoid a venom-
ous serpent and a horned devil.”62 The Secrets of Women, a popular treatise
erroneously attributed to Albertus Magnus, expatiates upon the dangers of
the menstrual eye:
It should be noted that old women who still have their monthly flow, and
some who do not menstruate, poison the eyes of children lying in their
cradles by their glance. . . . This is caused in menstruating women by the
flow itself, for the humors first infect the eyes, then the eyes infect the air,
which infects the child. This is the opinion of the philosopher in the book
on Sleeping and Waking.63
The text goes on to associate the menstruant with the basilisk, remarking that
menopausal women are particularly venomous because they cannot purge
themselves of their bodily toxin.64 All women are said to emit menstrual poi-
son through their eyes, corrupt the air with noxious vapor, and transmit
venom. This method of transmission corresponds to medieval notions of con-
tagion, believed to be an effect of corrupted air. Menstruation thus becomes

a communicable disease to which the menstruant alone is invulnerable, for
she, like the basilisk and other snakes, is immune to her own poison.65 Thus
by the thirteenth century, the focus of physicians and natural scientists has
shifted from a purgative to a polluting function of the menstrual flow.66
This understanding informs Nahmanides’ Torah commentary.67 While
the Talmud often associates women, menstruants, and snakes68 and mentions
magical ocular powers,69 Aristotelian natural philosophy influenced Nahman-
ides’ commentary on Leviticus. In his only other disparagement of menstru-
ants in his Torah commentary, he cites “ancient philosophers” as his source
for the menstruous eye. He explains that Rachel does not rise to greet her fa-
ther Laban because “in ancient days menstruants kept themselves very iso-
lated. They were described as niddot (the banned ones) because they neither
approached nor spoke with people. For the ancients in their wisdom knew
that their breath is harmful, their gaze is injurious and makes a bad impres-
sion, as the philosophers have explained. I will mention their experience in
this matter in the future.”70
Moreover, in his famous sermon “The Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,”
in which he justifies the use of science for the service of Torah, Nahmanides
states that the laws “prohibiting marital relations with his wife — that is, in
the days of her menstruation — is due to natural law.” And, at the end of the
section on menstruants, he quotes from his biblical commentary and speci-
fies Aristotle as the author of the menstruous eye, stating:
There is also a natural manifestation of the [harmful effect of menstrual
blood]. Aristotle has written in his book — and it is a true experience —
that if, at the beginning of her issue, a menstruant woman were to intently
concentrate her gaze upon a glass mirror, there would appear on the glass
a red spot resembling a drop of blood as large as a grain of mustard. Now
if [the image of the blood] cleaves to the glass, how much more will it
cleave to the child, the power thereof being as that of a viper which slays by
sight.71
Nahmanides not only identifies Aristotle as his source but, like Albertus Mag-
nus, draws upon medieval folklore to call menstrual blood a lethal poison and
compare the gaze of the niddah to the gaze of a basilisk.
This notion contributes to an etiology of leprosy. Both Jewish and Christian
traditions had long associated menstruation with inflammatory skin condi-
tions, but no previous Jewish source offered an explicit physiological explana-
tion for the correlation. Once menstrual blood is understood to be a poison,
the link becomes clear; a dose of poison will kill an embryo and the slightest
trace will affect fetal development. The exterior skin illness becomes nature’s
way of ridding the body of the dangerous blood and poison.72 Moreover,
medieval physicians did not distinguish between leprosy and venereal disease
because leprosy was perceived as a punishment for sexual excess.73 Sexual re-
lations with menstruants, a form of sexual deviance, would therefore transmit
“leprosy,” that is to say, venereal disease to the male partner as well.74 Women,
by contrast, were relatively immune to sexual diseases and leprosy because
they were immune to their own poison.75
The science historian Tzvi Langermann characterizes Nahmanides’ atti-
tude toward science as one of both acceptance and devaluation. He explains
that “scientific knowledge — defined here as that knowledge that is grounded
in observation of the phenomena, especially as this stands in contrast to
knowledge that is received through the Jewish tradition or extracted from the
very texts of Torah — has a certain validity. However, empirical study of
the natural world, detached from any metaphysical, other-worldly consider-
ations, is in the opinion of Nahmanides, simply not a very worthwhile un-
dertaking.”76 Why, then, does Nahmanides adopt contemporary medical and
scientific conceptions of menstruants, and why do these conceptions figure
only in his Torah commentary and in his Sermon “The Law of the Eternal
God Is Perfect”?
the menstruous eye and kabbalah

Nahmanides believed that the Torah contained divine secrets. Consequently,
his Torah exegesis, rather than his legal writing, became the main venue for
his kabbalistic interpretations. This methodology explains his unique treat-
ment of menstruants in his exegetical works. In his halakhic and medical ma-
terial, Nahmanides interprets menstruation literally (as peshat) and portrays
menstruation as a natural state of being; in his Torah commentary and in his
sermon, by contrast, he incorporates Aristotelian natural philosophy and
folklore in the service of his mystical theology to allude to the kabbalistic
mystery of menstruation.77
Nahmanides directly associates the need for menstrual separation and mys-
tical pursuits in his sermon “The Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” where he
immediately follows his discussion of the ocular power of menstruants with
a discourse on “the wisdom ‘that is hidden from the eyes of all living and is
broader than the sea,’ ” that is, the Kabbalah.78 In his Torah commentary, Nah-
manides, quotes from the Beraita de Massekhet Niddah. Thus, his under-
standing of menstruants is not solely a product of his adaptation of Aristote-
lian natural philosophy. Rather, his incorporation of medieval scientific ideas
dovetails with notions about menstruants already extant in the Jewish tradi-
tion, and he uses both in his Torah commentary to throw light on the mystery
of the menstruating woman.
Nahmanides usually introduces a kabbalistic tradition with the words “by
way of truth.” In his commentary on Leviticus 18:19, however, he compares the
power of the menstruous eye to a miracle, describing it in the terms of Job 37:16
as one of the “wondrous works” of “him who is perfect in knowledge.” Nah-
manides believed that miracles demonstrated divine knowledge, providence,
and creatio ex nihilo, and these he considered divine mysteries.79 For example,
he believed that creation out of nothing refers to creation from Ayin (nothing),
the “Divine Nothing” through which creation emanated.80 His classification
of the menstruous eye as a miracle may likewise refer to a divine secret.
Moreover, Nahmanides believed that the laws of forbidden sexual relations
— which include sexual relations with menstruants — were kabbalistic mys-
teries.81 The Bible states that a man who has sexual relations with a menstruat-
ing woman is punished by karet, a technical term that literally means extirpa-
tion, but which the rabbis interpret as premature death. Kabbalists believed
that the punishment refers instead to the destruction of the soul. Most of the
thirty-six transgressions that carry this penalty are sexual in nature. Because
sexual misdeeds bring forth inviable offspring, the sexual transgressor is re-
paid in kind: just as he extirpates the life of a potential soul, his own soul will
be extirpated through karet.82
Nahmanides alludes to an association between sexual misdeeds and karet
in his Torah commentary. Leviticus states that those who engage in forbidden
sexual relations are exiled from the Land of Israel. Why sexual transgression
should be punished by exclusion from the land becomes clear when the verse
is deciphered kabbalistically. Nahmanides interprets the Land of Israel in two
ways: literally and kabbalistically as the Shekhinah. One who engages in illicit
sexual activity is literally expelled from the Land of Israel and symbolically
from the Shekhinah.83 He who engages in sexual relations with a menstruat-
ing woman, the last of the catalog of illicit sexual relations, is punished by the
far more serious penalty of karet, extirpation.84 Exile allows the possibility of
return; karet is permanent. By analogy, we may infer that Nahmanides would
consider one who engages in sexual relations with menstruants as forever cut
off from communion with the Shekhinah.85
nahmanides’ students
Nahmanides hoped that his uninitiated readers would be satisfied with his
references to the Kabbalah, and he forbade the uninitiated to delve into the
text’s deeper meaning. This, of course, was an invitation. The prohibition
aroused the curiosity of so many scholars and laymen that it created “a major
kabbalistic activity of interpreting those passages on which Nahmanides spe-
cifically prohibited further speculation.”86 Nahmanides’ own students heeded
their master’s desires and transmitted kabbalistic traditions only orally. Their
students, however, enlarged upon Nahmanides’ exegesis in writing.87 Four
students of Rabbi Solomon ibn Adret wrote supercommentaries on Nah-
manides. Many other exegetes, such as Isaac of Acre, Bah.ya ben Asher, and
Menah.em Recanati, wrote biblical commentaries based upon Nahmanides’
work. All these exegetes assume that Nahmanides revealed the “mystery of
the separation from the niddah” in his exegesis on Leviticus 18:19.88
The supercommentaries convert Nahmanides’ references to natural philoso-
phy into the terms of kabbalistic myth. For example, Bah. ya ben Asher and
Shem Tov ibn Gaon explain that a menstruant’s gaze will cause blood spots
to appear not only on a mirror but also on other forms of polished metal, such
as a dagger blade. Rather than attribute this power to bad air (ruah. ra), as in
Aristotle’s theory of contagion, Bah.ya ben Asher and Shem Tov ibn Gaon
read ruah. ra mythologically as “bad spirit.” They explain that evil spirits of im-
purity transfer menstrual impurity from its origin on the divine left to terres-
trial women by possessing women at the onset of their flow.89 Impure spirits
empower the niddah, enabling her to alter the nature of a mirror or a sword.90
These kabbalists explicitly formulate the long expurgated belief that spirits of
impurity possess menstruants.
For the Catalonian kabbalist Bah.ya ben Asher, for instance, the issue of the
niddah proves her affinity to impure forces. The Mishnah describes impure
menstrual blood in terms of grapes and wine.91 Bereshit Rabbah identifies
grapes as the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge: Eve sinned when she squeezed
these grapes and gave them to Adam.92 Thirteenth-century kabbalists associate
Eve’s sin of squeezing the grapes with the flow of impure blood. They explain
that there are two types of grapes: white grapes represent the benevolent se-
firot, and red or black grapes represent stern Judgment. Eve sinned by squeez-
ing the red or black grapes of the left side. In so doing, she attached herself to
evil and introduced death and destruction into the world.93 Her punishment,
menstruation, fits her crime: Eve’s blood must spill because she spilled both
human blood and the red juice of the grapes of Judgment.94 Bah.ya ben Asher
applies this analogy to all menstruants, explaining:
Eve was punished with the blood of menstruation because it has the same
appearance [as the wine, the symbol of harsh Judgment] and it is dis-
charged from her with the same appearance. And this is the mystery of the
Scripture’s language when it described a kind of wine in terms of blood. As
it is written, “and from the blood of the grape you drank foaming wine”
(Deut. 32:14). And it is written, “he washes his garments in the blood of
grapes; and his vesture in the blood of grapes” (Gen. 49:11). . . . This is
the reason that the sages, may their memory be blessed, said that man
produces white [seed], while woman produces red [seed]. The sin of the
mother [Eve] and her daughters is similar with respect to the wine, which
causes the evils of the world.95
Wine, grapes, and the color red are all symbols of stern Judgment in nondual-
istic presentations of evil. Menstrual blood is the external mark of women’s
affinity to the sinister sefirah. Just as Judgment is the seventh sefirah, Leviti-
cus deems menstruants impure for seven days;96 just as Judgment secretes
wine lees, women discharge menstrual blood.97
echoes of nahmanides in castile

Nahmanides and his interpreters directly influenced Castilian attitudes to-
ward menstruants. Rationalizing the laws of niddah in Sefer ha-Rimmon, Moses
de Leon paraphrases Nahmanides’ Torah commentary and then adds one sig-
nificant sentence to his summary: within the laws of niddah “lies a secret.
[There is] another deep issue in the mystery of the law of the niddah and the
need to separate from her, and what I have said is sufficient.”98
We may infer his meaning from a similar discussion in the Zohar.
There is no defilement in the world greater than that of menstruation. The
defilement of menstruation is more severe than any other type of defile-
ment. The man [who has such intercourse] becomes impure himself, and
renders impure all those who are near to him. Wherever they go they drive
the Shekhinah away. Furthermore, he brings a grievous illness upon him-
self and the child that he begets, for once a man has relations with a men-
struant, the impurity takes hold of him and remains in every part of his
body. At that moment, a spirit of impurity is cast upon the child that is
begotten, and he will live all his days in a state of defilement for his very
foundation rests on a defilement that is greater and stronger than any
other, for as soon as a man approaches a menstruant woman, the impu-
rity takes hold of him, as it is written, “her impurity is communicated to
him” (Lev. 15:24).99
For Aristotle, menstruants are contagious because they have bad air; for de
Leon, menstruants are contagious because spirits of impurity possess them.
Elsewhere, the Zohar further mythologizes this understanding and refers
to menstrual pollution as “the mystery of the primordial serpent.”100 Rabbi
Shimon bar Yoh.ai explains:101
We have learned that one hundred and twenty-five different types of im-
purity descended to the earth, which are united with the side of the power-
ful serpent. We have learned that twenty-seven of the greatest ones unite
with women and cleave to them. Woe is he who approaches her at this
time. For he who approaches a menstruant will cause a defect above. Be-
cause through this sin the powerful serpent is awakened, and he casts his
filth in a place that does not need it. And he unites with the female (the
Shekhinah). And the hair of the male grows, and the female is polluted
and her hair and nails grow. And at this point stern Judgment is awakened
in this world and all are polluted. As it is written, “because he has defiled
the Lord’s sanctuary” (Num. 19:20). The sanctuary of the Lord is polluted
by the sins of men. We have learned that which is written, “and I will put
enmity between you and the women” (Gen. 3:15). The serpent cast twenty-
four different types of impurity into the woman when he united with her,
as in the numerical equivalent of the word “and enmity.” Twenty-four
types of [impurity] are aroused above and below. Her hair and nails grow
and [through this] Judgment is awakened in the world. And when a
woman wishes to purify herself she must cut the hair that has grown dur-
ing the days of her impurity. And she must cut her nails and all similar
filth.102
Samael, the leader of the demonic other side (sitra ah.ra) of impurity, is re-
sponsible for the one hundred and twenty-five different types of human pol-
lution. He instills women with the twenty-four gravest forms.103 These spirits
of impurity possess women and occasion their menstrual flow.104 Menstruat-
ing women become the terrestrial incarnation of the demonic realm.
the possession of the niddah

in thirteenth-century kabbalah
Many Castilian kabbalists represent terrestrial menstruants as vessels pos-
sessed by the force of evil at the onset of their flow. This understanding signifi-
cantly differs in degree from the assumptions of the BdN, where menstruants
are only tacitly possessed by spirits of impurity. In the Zohar, by contrast, the
menstruant is possessed by the spirit of impurity, Samael, who replaces her
particular soul with his own impure spirit. Consequently, Samael’s different
manifestations determine the character of the niddah. When Samael is a sor-
cerer, the niddah becomes a witch; when Samael is the evil inclination, the
niddah becomes sinful; and when he is the Angel of Death, the niddah be-
comes a killer. The Zohar conceives of a niddah far more dangerous than the
menstruant presented in the BdN because the powers of the niddah are lim-
ited only by the particular character of Samael that she assumes.
Niddah and Magic

Many cultures associate menstrual blood with sorcery. Ancient Greek and
Roman authors believed that menstrual blood could be used for both good
and evil; it could cure disease and drive away stormy weather and vermin, but
it could also cause abortions and kill crops.105 The Talmud also attests to a
belief in the magical power of menstrual blood. Menstrual blood was kept for
magical purposes, and blood-soaked rags were traded for their powers.106
Moreover, some rabbis considered women to be particularly skilled magicians.
For example, Rabbi Shimon claims that “most women engage in sorcery.”107
These perceived magical powers may have been related to women’s impure
status.
The Talmud describes magic in terms of a dichotomy between purity and
impurity. Sanctioned magic is performed by means of the pure name of God,
and unsanctioned magic is performed by means of the names of impurity and
impure spirits.108 The rabbis, moreover, believed in the tenets of sympathetic
magic, whereby like elements attract.109 Thus, in order to perform illicit and,
therefore, impure magical acts, the male magician must visit a polluting area,
such as a graveyard.110 A sorceress, by contrast, would not need to travel,
because the belief in the magical power of menstrual blood promoted an as-
sociation between the ritually impure menstruant and impure magical acts.
For example, in a discussion of magical practices,111 the Talmud relates that
a menstruant who passes between two men has the power to kill one at the
beginning of her flow, but at the end of her flow she will only have the power
to cause strife between them.112 The strength of the menstrual flow deter-
mines the strength of women’s magical powers.113
Thirteenth-century kabbalists reveal the fear of menstruants implicit in
this rabbinic teaching. Kabbalists believed that Samael empowers all acts of
sorcery and necromancy. They describe the sitra ah.ra as the ten crowns of
sorcery and impurity that correspond to the ten crowns of faith.114 In order
to gain access to these impure powers, practitioners of unsanctioned magic
must physically pollute themselves. Bilaam, for example, would empower
himself through seminal emissions;115 women become empowered through
the female analog, the menstrual flow.
According to Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, menstruation is the source of
all witchcraft. The Torah states that “you shall not suffer a sorceress to live”
(Deut. 18:10–11). The Talmud explains that the term “sorceress” appears in its
feminine form to demonstrate that “most women engage in sorcery.”116 Mid-
rash ha-Neelam Ruth, by contrast, explains that the term is feminine because
the serpent instills the filth of sorcery, physically manifest as menstrual blood,
into Eve, not into Adam. Sorcery is the province of women alone.117
The Zohar on Genesis states that all women originate on the left side of
harsh Judgment, black magic, and impurity. Among women, menstruants are
most closely associated with the side of impurity through the laws of sympa-
thetic magic; consequently, they become more powerful magicians than their
ritually pure sisters.118 Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth makes the relationship be-
tween menstruant and magic explicit in a reformulation of BT Pesah.im 111a.
It is taught: If one passes between two women who are menstruating, he

will be overtaken by a demon. It will not leave his body unless something
is done for him; mortal danger or murder is in store for him. And if they are
not menstruating, the evil eye holds sway over his body or his wealth.119
Both menstruating women and ritually pure women can harm through
magic. Menstruating women, however, are far more powerful sorceresses.
They infect others with their own spirit of impurity and thereby endanger
both body and soul.120 The possessed individual will be freed of the impure
spirit only if “something is done for him,” that is, if the spirit is exorcised. Ritu-
ally pure women, by contrast, afflict only the material realm by means of the
evil eye.121 The Zohar warns men to guard themselves from woman
during her days of impurity because she is then linked to the spirit of im-
purity. If she should perform magic during this time, she is likely to be
more successful than when she is ritually pure. Therefore anything that she
touches [during this time] or anyone who approaches her will become
polluted. Happy is Israel that God gave them the Torah and said to them,
“do not come near a woman during her period of impurity to uncover her
nakedness”(Lev. 18:19).122
Male mystics may shield themselves against menstruants and impurity
with sanctioned magical techniques. In Hekhalot literature, adepts who had
successfully adjured the Sar Torah could distinguish between different types
of blood in order to help women determine their purity status.123 They could
also recognize “all the deeds of men, even when they do them in the chamber
of chambers, whether they are good or bad. . . . If one is suspected of having
intercourse with a menstruating woman, he [the adept] knows it and recog-
nizes him.”124 Kabbalists could divine one’s sexual improprieties through the
arts of physiognomy and chiromancy. After a man has had sexual relations
with a menstruant, a red eagle appears on his forehead and other marks ap-
pear on his arms. Should he repent, the sign on his face will darken, and the
mark on his right arm will disappear. The mark on his left side, the side of
Judgment, however, remains permanently engraved.125
The Niddah and the Evil Inclination

In the Bible, ritual impurity is usually represented as a state of being.126 Ritual
impurity was used as a metaphor for sin, but the ritually impure Israelite was
not considered sinful or immoral.127 By contrast, the Bible presents a second
category of impurity, moral impurity, in which one becomes morally polluted
through grave sins, such as idolatry, murder, and especially sexual sins. These
acts defile not only the sinners, but also the sanctuary and the land of Israel.128
Leviticus 18:27 exhorts Israel to refrain from sexual sin, lest “the land spew
you out for defiling it” — an image directly invoked by Jeremiah in his ac-
count of the expulsion. Although, by the rabbinic period, tsaraat impurity
has come to be the mark of the sin of gossip,129 the rabbis maintain the dis-
tinction between ritual and moral impurity.130 In Kabbalah, however, there is
no distinction between ritual impurity and moral impurity. Physical impurity
is the mark of moral pollution (and vice versa) because the polluting agent
Samael is both the source of immorality and the spirit of impurity.131
From the tenets of sympathetic magic,132 Castilian kabbalists concluded
that the morally impure attract the evil inclination. Because the evil inclina-
tion is also the spirit of impurity, he physically pollutes them upon contact.
Conversely, the physically impure attract the spirit of impurity who, by virtue
of his evil nature, inclines them toward sin. The Zohar explains this process
as follows:
Samael comes to man with deceit and treachery in order to turn him aside
from the ways of the Holy One, blessed be He. Just as it seduced Adam and
brought death to the whole world, so too it seduces mankind and causes
them to become defiled, and whoever becomes defiled attracts the spirit of
impurity and becomes attached to it.133
Many thirteenth-century Kabbalists, therefore, portray menstrual impurity

as a mark of moral pollution.134 For example, the RM remarks that the five
types of impure menstrual blood “inflict guilt.”135 The Geronese kabbalist ibn
Shueib describes the precise nature of this guilt:
all states of tumah are polluted because they derive from the evil inclina-
tion, etc. . . . Anyone who deals with it [the evil inclination] is impure and
so the corpse [is impure], because death does not come without sin, and
the emission of semen in vain [is impure because it] comes from the side
of the evil inclination. The niddah, zavah, and parturient [are impure] be-
cause the bloods come from Eve who brought death upon herself.136
The Niddah and the Angel of Death

Ibn Shueib builds upon an association between menstruation and death al-
ready suggested in Leviticus. Since “the life of the flesh is in the blood” (Lev.
17:11), the loss of menstrual blood may be perceived as the death of a potential
life.137 That the rabbis of the Talmud made such a correlation is evident in
the rabbinic pejorative for the uterus, grave (qever). This connection took on
ritual significance after the demise of the Temple cult, when corpse pollution
lost its cultic relevance and many of the taboos that had been associated with
death were redirected toward the menstruant.138 Thirteenth-century kabbal-
ists enlarge upon the traditional association between menstruants, spirits of
impurity, and death, for in Kabbalah, the menstruant is not merely associated
with generic spirits of impurity, but rather, she is thought to be possessed by
the spirit of impurity, also known as the Angel of Death.
The Talmud identifies Satan with the Angel of Death. Isaac of Acre intro-
duces women into this equation, explaining that women and the Angel of
Death both derive from the attribute of Stern Judgment. Their common origin
bears upon their common purpose: both women and Satan are responsible
for death in this world.139 Some Castilian kabbalists add that the menstrual flow
is the source of women’s mortal powers.140 Samael, in the guise of the Angel
of Death, possesses women at the onset of their flow and transforms them
into agents of death.141 For example, as the Zohar explains, when Eve ate the
fruit of the Tree of Knowledge, she separated life from death, thereby intro-
ducing the autonomous powers of death into the world. Menstrual separation
reenacts this primeval separation of life and death. Man, the symbol of life,
must separate from his menstruating wife, the autonomous force of death.142
Some texts attribute the menstruant’s lethal powers to the female demon
Lilith the infant slayer rather than to the male Samael.143 The RM describes
the five different types of impure menstrual blood as the mark of the evil
maidservant Lilith, who monthly infects women with her “strange blemish”
(mum zar).144 When possessed, menstruants assume her qualities and be-
come infant slayers rather than the more powerful Angel of Death.145
the beraita d’niddah and kabbalah

The BdN had an elaborate pedigree within the Jewish mystical tradition. As
we have seen, the traditions of the BdN display a mystical consciousness very
similar to that found in Hekhalot literature. They were then adopted by the
German Pietists, and adapted by medieval kabbalists.146 Castilian mystics
chose BdN traditions because they understood them as a part of mystical tra-
dition first through Ashkenaz and then through Nahmanides. Having con-
cluded that these mystically influenced halakhot fulfill the requirements for
mystical practice, several kabbalists integrated them into their own theosoph-
ical ideas and symbolic structures, applying them to the Shekhinah in their
mystical speculation and to terrestrial women in their halakhic choices.
The BdN has two major emphases: separating menstruants from the sa-
cred and the possession of menstruants. In contrast to earlier Jewish mysti-
cism that had generally adopted the strictures of the BdN with regard to the
sancta but largely ignored the demonic component, kabbalists conflate the
two and justify the need to isolate the menstruants from the sacred by means
of an elaborate demonology.
There is an implicit connection between isolation from the holy and pos-
session by a demon. Menstruants must separate from the sancta because men-
strual impurity is anathema to God. Abandoned by the holy, they may become
susceptible to ungodly, demonic influence. Thirteenth-century kabbalists
make these tacit assumptions explicit and substantiate them with kabbalistic
myth. At the beginning of her flow, the menstruant becomes possessed by
excess Judgment (Din) or by the demonic other side (sitra ah.ra). She is trans-
formed into an ungodly agent of evil and becomes a source of danger to both
man and God. Kabbalists thus give theological justification to a belief in the
possession of menstruants and the need to separate them from the sancta.
Kabbalists therefore conceive of a niddah even more dangerous than the men-
struant presented in the BdN and these conceptions impinge on women’s
social and spiritual opportunities.
The traditions of the BdN were known to the earliest kabbalists in Pro-
vence. Isaac the Blind affirms the existence of “a great deal of material regard-
ing the strictures of the niddah,” including the beliefs that her “name was
niddah,” that “her words were forbidden,” and that “they are completely pol-
luted.”147 Nahmanides, the first kabbalist to explicitly name the text now
known as the Beraita d’Niddah, describes its strictures in detail:
as they mentioned in the Beraita of Massekhet Niddah, a scholar is forbid-

den to inquire about the welfare of the niddah.148 Rabbi Neh.emiah stated
that even the words that come forth from her mouth are impure.149 Rabbi
Yodan said that a man may not walk behind a menstruant and step upon
the dirt [upon which she passed], which is impure as death. [ Just as she or
possibly he that walked over her ashes is impure like a dead person] so too
are the ashes upon which she treads and it is forbidden to derive any ben-
efit from the work of her hand.150
Nahmanides incorporates laws into his Torah Commentary that isolate
the niddah from the community at large because of her perceived danger.
Many other kabbalists follow suit. Bah. ya ben Asher, for example, mentions
that menstruants’ spittle and smell are destructive and that menstruants ren-
der impure the dust upon which they tread.151 Later kabbalists, such as Moses
de Leon, Menah.em Recanati, Joseph Hamadan, and Menah.em Tsioni, not
only cite the BdN, but also justify its strictures by means of kabbalistic my-
thology. For example, the BdN expatiates upon the physical dangers posed
by the menstruating woman. Sexual relations with a niddah during her blood
flow will engender lepers, cripples, and children with boils.152 Proximity to a
menstruant will cause great scholars to forget their studies.153 The Zohar ex-
plicitly ascribes the root of these effects to Samael, here described as the spirit
of impurity. Sexual relations with a niddah are dangerous because the act
“causes the Spirit of Impurity to take hold of him [her partner] and remain in
every part of his body.”154 This same spirit
is cast upon the child that is begotten, and he will live all his days in a state
of defilement, for his very foundation rests on a defilement that is greater
and stronger than any other, for as soon as a man approaches a menstruant
woman the impurity takes hold of him, as it is written, “her impurity is
communicated to him” (Lev. 15:24).155
The BdN also warns menstruants to neither cut their nails, “lest one [par-
ing] fall to the earth and cause whoever steps upon it to break out in boils,”
nor brush their hair near their husband’s bed lest any stray strand pollute
their husband and children.156 The Zohar rationalizes these fears. Shimon
bar Yoh.ai explains that the powers of evil that grow in menstruants inhere in
the growth of their hair and fingernails.157 Although possession formally ends
after twelve days of separation, vestiges of demonic power still remain in
these newly grown parts of her body. Women must therefore cut their nails
and their hair before ritual immersion to remove all traces of demonic pollu-
tion before purification.158
kabbalah and iberian jewish culture

Kabbalistic traditions met with an eager audience in fourteenth- and fifteenth-
century Iberia. Castilian mystics collected and copied Zoharic traditions.159
The Zohar, Joseph Gikatilla’s Shaarei Tsedeq, Abraham ben David’s Baalei
ha-Nefesh, and the book Bahir are explicitly mentioned in a recently discov-
ered early fifteenth-century inventory of twenty-six Jewish libraries in Jaca
(Aragon).160 Moreover, the Zohar’s ethos informed several pre-expulsion
ethical works and popular halakhic treatises.161 These popular texts were part
of an innovative effort by pietistic scholars in Spain to educate laymen and
reform Jewish practice in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.162 Mystical
traditions on menstruation provided a powerful arsenal for rabbis bent on
promoting observance of menstrual separation.
Meir ibn Aldabi (Toledo, 1310–1360) quotes extensively from the BdN and
cites Nahmanides’ “scientific” theory that menstruants dull mirrors, in his
Shevilei ha- Emunah.163 The fourteenth-century Sefer ha-H.inukh164 blesses God
who removed from His people, whom He chose, all things that harm the
body, because it is an instrument for the soul that knows its maker. Simi-
larly he removed us from the parturient, the niddah, and the zavah on the
days she is counting, until they are cleansed from the excess within them
which is a bad thing and causes illness.165
Isaac Aboav devotes an entire chapter to the dangers of menstruants in his

Menorat ha-Maor, an ethical and halakhic treatise completed in the begin-
ning of the fourteenth century.166 Aboav begins his excursus paraphrasing
Nahmanides’ commentary on Rachel and the idols. He explains that the
ancients completely isolated menstruants because — as philosophers have
explained — menstruants are dangerous. Menstruants would sit alone in tents;
no man would dare enter. That is why Lavan immediately understood his
daughter Rachel’s meaning when she stated “the way of woman is upon me.”
Lavan did not even respond; the ancients did not speak with menstruants
because their words were polluted. The complete isolation of menstruants fell
into desuetude because of ignorance and lust. Aboav explains that the holy
Torah resuscitated menstrual separation
to sanctify Israel, to separate them from the nations, to distance them from
“zohama” and to guard them from this danger so they can produce their
seed sacredly. Aware of the secret of generation, of injury, of repair, of im-
purity, and of purity, the Torah commanded us to observe the laws of nid-
dah and the days of zivah (which are stricter than those of niddah) . . . The
Blessed One who knows all secrets, who in his kindness acts as the healer
of Israel, in his wisdom, arranged these (laws) as he deemed necessary.
And the sages of Israel who understood the mystery of separating men-
struants, said in the Beraita de Massekhet Niddah “a Talmid H.akham may
not inquire about a menstruant’s welfare.” Rabbi Neh.emiah said “her words
are impure.” Rabbi Yoh. anan said “a man may not walk behind a niddah nor
step upon her dust, it is as impure as the dead. And one may not benefit
from the work of her hand.”167
Aboav’s repeated use of the term “mystery” (sod, nistarot) and his use of the
term zohama within the context of menstruants strongly suggest his familiar-
ity with mystical teachings about the menstruant. Aboav describes the au-
thors of the BdN as sages privy to the hidden meaning of menstrual laws. This
appeal to secrecy does not allow for dissenting opinions; it does not matter
that the laws of the BdN do not cohere with other rabbinic treatments of
menstrual laws.168 The authors of the BdN have had special insight into God’s
laws, and their interpretations must be observed.
Israel al Nakawa (d. 1391) wrote an ethical work also entitled Menorat ha-
Maor in which he translates the Zoharic mystery of the primordial serpent
who instills twenty-seven of the greatest types of impurity into women in the
name of Midrash Yehi Or. “Woe is he who approaches her at this time. For he
who approaches a menstruant will cause a defect above.”169
Abraham Saba (d. 1508 ) reads Leviticus 15 through a Zoharic lens in his
Torah commentary Tsror ha-Mor.170 He explains that the laws of menstruation,
discharges, and scale disease appear in the same biblical portion because human
pollution originates in the side of perfidy and impurity. Adam and Eve intro-
duced genital flux impurity into the world when they sinned. The zav and baal
qeri are drawn from Adam’s sin; the zavah and niddah are drawn “from the side
of Eve’s impurity. Female impurity, however, is doubly potent, because God
told Eve that “I am doubling and redoubling your toil (Genesis 3:16).” The side
of the spirit of impurity overpowers menstruants and inflicts them doubly.171
The Zohar’s influence extended beyond the borders of the Iberian pen-
insula even before the expulsion in 1492. The Ashkenazi biblical exegete
Menah.em Tsioni incorporates the Zohar into his commentary on menstruants
in his Sefer Tsioni.172 The Italian kabbalist Menah.em Recanati cites Zoharic tra-
ditions about menstruants in his Commentary on the Torah and in his Rationales
for the Commandments.173 He asserts that one who engages in sexual relations
with menstruating women causes a defect in the supernal merkavah.174 The later
Byzantine Sefer ha-Qanah similarly explains that proper sexual relations will
foster divine union, while sexual relations with impure women will introduce
impurity into the Hekhal, the vestibule in front of the Holy of Holies that sym-
bolizes the Shekhinah. The laws of the niddah embrace all other acts of for-
bidden sexual relations, which introduce impurity into the realm of the holy.175
Menah.em Recanati and the anonymous author of the Sefer ha-Qanah also
assert that the souls of those who transgress the laws of the arayot will trans-
migrate into impure creatures that befit their crime. Recanati explains that
a man who has relations with a menstruous woman will transmigrate into a
Gentile woman, one who has sexual relations while niddah.176 The author of
the Sefer ha-Qanah offers an alternative and suggests that one who has sexual
relations with a menstruating woman may transmigrate after death into the
body of a leper, a punishment particularly suited to the crime:
when a woman is a niddah, she is outside and distanced. When one has
relations with her, he causes all the impurities to enter the Hekhal. He will
therefore return to earth as a leper who sits alone, banned like a niddah,
outside of the camp. One who transgresses any of the laws of forbidden
sexual relations is liable to the punishment of karet and the niddah com-
prises all of the arayot.177
Lepers and menstruants are both banned, niddah, from the community
of the holy. A man who has sexual relations with a menstruating woman may,
instead of undergoing a gender change and becoming a menstruant in his
next life, become the male equivalent — a leper.
Kabbalists draw upon natural philosophy, medieval medicine, and folklore in

order to understand the mystery of the menstruating woman. In Kabbalah,
women’s status is not only determined by terrestrial concerns but also by the
myth of the menstruating Shekhinah. When these theological predispositions
dovetail with the existing biases within the medical and scientific community,
it creates a misogyny that affects women’s home life, health care, and heavenly
aspirations. In medieval folklore, the menstruant is likened to a snake filled
with venom. In Kabbalah, the primordial serpent fills the menstruant with his
own venom and transforms her into a demonic force. The dangers that she
can pose and the means by which kabbalists hoped to deter these dangers
filtered into popular Jewish culture and had an impact on the spiritual oppor-
tunities of Jewish women in medieval society.
III
Mysticism & Menstruation
in Islam & Christianity
Building upon Temple cult traditions, physical purity became prerequisite for
mystical vision in the late-antique and medieval Jewish tradition. This em-
phasis on purity not only barred women from “normative” forms of mysti-
cal expression but also contributed to the understanding of menstruation as
an ungodly, demonic force. Thus, of the three major religions in medieval
Europe — Judaism, Christianity, and Islam — only Judaism cannot boast a
single female mystic. Medieval Jewish women were barred from rabbinically
sanctioned mysticism because of their innate impurity.
Purity rituals, however, were present in medieval Christianity and con-
tinue to be a fact of life in Islam. Why, then, wasn’t menstruation an obstacle
to women’s spiritual expression for medieval Christian and Muslim women?
The answer lies in the different function of purity in Christianity and Islam
and in the distinct requirements for mystical success.
Although all mystics share the similar goal of divine gnosis, their paths
to God differ — mystical practices are contextualized by religious experience.
To have a successful encounter with the divine, the mystic must embody the
qualities that are most highly esteemed by their religious tradition. Moreover,
the mystic’s visionary experience will reflect their religion’s iconography and
symbolism. While a Hekhalot mystic would purify himself from all physical
and moral impurity in order to enter a heavenly Temple, the virgin Catherine
of Siena would fast in order to see an image of the Virgin Mary. Analysis of the
function of menstruation in Christian and Muslim mysticism not only sheds
light on women’s spiritual opportunities but also serves as a means to distin-
guish what mattered most to the each religious tradition.
8
Menstrual Impurity and Sufism
Do not prevent the maid-servants of Allah
entering the places in which he is worshipped.
sahĪh muslim, 4:886
In Islam, laws of menstrual purity are part of a vast system of purity laws that
govern Muslims’ daily lives. Because of its quotidian nature, impurity is not
an unusual state for Muslims; consequently, menstruation loses much of its
stigma, particularly within the Sufi tradition. Sufis enlarged the symbolism of
impurity and designated spiritual, rather than physical, impurity the major
obstacle to divine union. A pure-hearted Muslim menstruant could therefore
engage in dhikr, remembrance of God, one of the most essential aspects of
Sufi devotion. Purity of heart matters most for Sufi practice.
impurity and menstrual laws in islam

There are five central aspects or pillars of Islam. These are: (1) bearing witness
to the unity of God and Muh.ammad as his prophet, (2) performing ritual
prayer five times daily, (3) fasting during the month of Ramadan, (4) giving
charity, and (5) pilgrimage to Mecca. Ritual purity is a precondition for the
performance of all but the fourth pillar, charity.
The Qurān describes three types of impurity — two that affect people,
known as minor (h.adath) and major (janāba), and one that inheres in things
(najāsa).1 Male and female Muslims may contract minor impurity by excre-
tion, passing gas, sleeping deeply, and engaging in skin-to-skin contact with
members of the opposite sex. Some juridical opinions hold that Muslims may
become impure by vomiting, bleeding, and laughing uncontrollably. Those
subject to minor impurity may purify themselves through wud.ū, a ritual
washing of the face, hands, and feet, and wiping of the head.
127
Male and female Muslims may contract major impurity, janāba, by ejacu-
lation (sleeping or waking), menstruation, or parturition. Those affected by
janāba ( junub) purify themselves by ghusl, lustration, a ritual pouring of
water over the body. These cleansings are meant for ritual rather than hy-
gienic purposes. Indeed, the impure ejaculant, menstruant, and parturient
do not need to wash their genitals to become pure.2 Moreover, should no
water be available, both wud.ū and ghusl may be performed with sand or dirt
(tayammum).
The third type of impurity, inherent impurity, or najāsa, refers to polluted
things rather than people. Things that are najis include blood (except the
blood of martyrs), dogs, pigs, dead animals, and wine. Muslims can never
become inherently impure, but they can be affected by inherently impure
things. For example, parents’ clothes may become soiled by their infant’s ex-
crement. Simple washing of the affected area is the means to rid oneself of the
najāsa impurity. There is no ritual ablution or lustration.
menstrual impurity in islam

The laws for menstrual impurity, a form of janāba, are set down in the Qurān
as follows:
They ask you about menstruation. Say, “It is a harmful thing; keep away
from women when they are menstruating, and do not approach them until
they are pure again. When they have purified themselves, have intercourse
with them as God has commanded you.” Indeed God loves the repentant
and He loves those who purify themselves.3
This terse passage seems misogynistic. The Qurān defines menstruation as
a harmful thing, and the verse is teaching men, rather than women, how
best to observe the laws of menstrual purity. Indeed, the phrase “do not ap-
proach” recalls the Levitical commandment “not to come near” a menstruat-
ing woman for the purposes of sexual relations.4 Written for men, the Sura
2:222 emphasizes the way in which menstruation interrupts men’s sexual op-
portunity rather than how it preempts women’s religious obligations. Ac-
cording to Islamic law, however, menstruating woman cannot (1) say the five
canonical prayers, (2) fast, (3) tarry in a mosque, (4) circumambulate the
Kaba, (5) touch the script or recite the words of the Qurān.5 Given the all-
encompassing nature of purity laws in Islam and the fact that Muslim menstru-
128 · Islam and Christianity
ants can neither engage in ritual prayer nor tarry in a mosque, how can they
come close to God?
The Uniqueness of Muslim Purity Laws

In contrast to the Temple cult–based purity rituals in Israelite religion, purity
rituals in Islam were never limited to a certain place or to certain persons.
Rather, they are but one of an all-pervasive and comprehensive purity system
incumbent upon all Muslims. Sleeping, defecating, and sexual relations — all
of these daily human functions render Muslims impure. Purity and impurity
factor into every aspect of observant Muslims’ lives, from the moment they
wake up in the morning to the moment they go to sleep at night.
Because ritual purity is required to engage in most acts of Islamic ritual,
both male and female Muslims must undergo daily purification. Purity laws
in Sunni Islam further differ from medieval Judaism and Zoroastrianism be-
cause the impure person is not considered contagious or dangerous. As the
historian Zeev Maghen explains, even the contraction of impurity does not
render the “essence” of a human organism impure. Thus whatever defilement
is “encountered” in the case of janāba is not “absorbed”: it somehow fails to
penetrate or in any essential way altar one’s person.”6 Muh.ammad is reported
to have said. “A believer is never contaminated/never contaminates.”7
menstrual laws in islam, redux

Indeed, if we revisit Sura 2:222 we may infer a very different understanding.
Menstruation is defined as “a harmful thing” — misogynist?8 Perhaps at first
glance, but not within the context of the Islamic purity system. Menstruation
is a blood and, like all other bloods (including male blood),9 is considered
inherently impure — najis; the menstruant, by contrast, is not considered in-
herently impure or dangerous.10 As soon as a woman’s flow ends, she purifies
herself and may revert to all normal activities. There is neither the waiting
period (or white days) nor the unique methods of purification that one finds
in rabbinic Judaism. Rather, the Qurānic stipulation is very similar to laws
of niddah propounded in Leviticus 15:19.11 Like the niddah in Leviticus, the
menstruant in the Qurān must refrain from sexual intercourse for seven days,
and menstrual blood, rather than the menstruant herself, is deemed impure.
Marion Katz has shown that by virtue of “the Muslims’ special covenantal
Menstrual Impurity and Sufism · 129
relationship to God [which] is grounded in their observation of His com-
mands and prohibitions,” purity laws become a means by which women can
actively participate in the new covenant.12 Muh.ammad treated menstruants
in an equally liberal manner. (His evenhandedness was likely born of his
own experience — Muh.ammad had many wives and fathered four daughters.)
Just as Muh.ammad became impure through ejaculation, the women in his
family became impure through menstruation. And this practical approach is
evident in the many traditions about menstruation recorded in Muh.ammad’s
name in h.adīth literature. The h.adīth on menstruation can be categorized in
three ways: sexual matters, menstruating women’s proximity to the sacred,
and the limits posed on menstruants’ observance. In all aspects, Muh.ammad
harbors no special prejudices against menstruants. Moreover, he is extremely
liberal with respect to sexual relations. For example, because the Qurān
explicitly prohibits only sexual intercourse with menstruants, Muh. ammad
permits other forms of physical intimacy. In one tradition, Umm Salama
narrates:
While I was lying with the Prophet under a single woolen sheet, I got the
menses. I slipped away and put on the clothes for menses. He said, “Have
you become impure?” I replied, “Yes.” He then called me and made me lie
with him under the same sheet.13
And Āisha and several of the Prophet’s lesser known wives reported that:
Whenever Allah’s Apostle wanted to fondle anyone of us (his wives) dur-
ing her periods, he used to order her to put on an izār (waist wrapper) and
start fondling her.” Āisha added, “None of you could control his sexual
desires as the Prophet could.”14
Muh.ammad strictly construes the Qurānic prohibition against engaging in
sexual intercourse with menstruating women — with a lenient result. Sexual
intercourse alone is forbidden; all other forms of intimacy are permitted. He
orders his wives to don an izār, a garment tightly wound from a woman’s navel
to her knees, which allows for physical intimacy but makes Qurānically pro-
scribed sexual intercourse impossible.15
Muh.ammad treats menstruants leniently in the public sphere as well. He
allowed his menstruating wives to be near him while he was engaged in ritual
prayer, permitted them to comb his hair while he recited from the Qurān,
and instructed them to enter mosques to retrieve items for him.16 When his
wives expressed surprise at his liberality, he replied, “menstruation is not in
your hand,” that is to say, neither communicable nor dangerous.17 Indeed,
according to Uma, Urwa narrated:
A person asked me, “Can a woman in menses serve me? And can a junub
woman (woman in a state of janāba) come close to me?” I replied, “All this
is easy for me. All of them can serve me, and there is no harm for any other
person to do the same.”18
For Muh.ammad, menstruation is just a state of being that precludes women
from doing certain rituals and engaging in sexual intercourse. His matter-of-
factness can be seen in the following report of Āisha:
The Prophet said to me, “Give up the prayer when your menses begin and
when it has finished, wash the blood off your body (take a bath) and start
praying.”19
Muh.ammad explains that women must only wait out the flow, wash the blood
off of the affected area, and remove any stains from her clothes with water or
by scraping in order to say her ritual prayers.
Muh.ammad’s attitude toward menstruation can perhaps best be seen in
the following h.adīth:
Āisha [recounted] that the Prophet came to see her and found her weep-
ing, having started to menstruate in Sarif before entering Mecca [on the
Hajj]. He said “What’s the matter; have you gotten your period?” She said,
“Yes.” He said, “This is something that God has decreed for the daughters
of Adam. Perform all the rites of the Hajj, except that you may not circum-
ambulate the House.”20
Nonplussed, Muh.ammad strictly construes the Qurānic prohibition and al-
lows Āisha to perform all of her religious responsibilities save the one explic-
itly forbidden — circumambulation of the Kaba. Moreover, he significantly
describes menstruation as “something God has decreed for the daughters of
Adam” rather than as the punishment of Eve. As Marion Katz explains, “This
statement gently but unmistakably implies that menstruation is not an extrin-
sic product of female desire imposed as a result of transgression, but an inte-
gral part of God’s plan. It is not imposed on the daughters of Eve (presumably,
as a result of her sin), but decreed for the daughters of Adam — that is, for the
females of all humankind.”21
Muh.ammad’s sympathy for women enabled menstruants to have a much
more active role in Muslim life. For example, according to h. adīth, a pious
woman reported that she had heard the Prophet saying,
“The unmarried young virgins and the mature girl who stay often screened
or the young unmarried virgins who often stayed screened and menstruat-
ing women should come out and participate in good deeds as well as the
religious gathering of the faithful believers but the menstruating women
should keep away from the Mus. allā (praying place).” Hafsa asked her sur-
prisingly, “Did you say the menstruating women?” She replied, “Doesn’t a
menstruating woman attend the Hajj and such and such (other deeds)?”22
There is no presumption of stigma in this text or in many other h. adīth. The
menstruant is not dangerous or defiling. Menstruation, like ejaculation and
all other forms of ritual impurity are “something God had decreed” for the
children of Adam. Muslims — male and female — undulate daily between
states of purity and impurity, and all impure Muslims are prohibited ritual
prayer and circumambulation of the Kaba, but this restriction does not in-
demnify the impure. Rather, purification rituals are another means by which
Muslims can participate in a covenantal relationship with God because he
“loves those who purify themselves.”23
Impurity Leads to Alternate Forms of Devotion

The ubiquity of purity laws in Islam contributes to the spiritual opportunities
of Muslim women in two ways. First, it removes the stigma of menstruation,
and second, the preponderance of impurity and the concomitant ritual prohi-
bitions make other forms of devotion necessary.
Impurity precludes performance of salāt, the ritual prayer incumbent upon
Muslims five times daily. There are, however, other types of prayer that do not
require ritual purity: (1) free prayer — unscripted personal supplications and
devotions; (2) pronouncements of love and yearning for God (munājāt); and
(3) remembering God through meditation on his name or on Qurānic pas-
sages (dhikr).24 Of these three additional forms of prayer, only dhikr, remem-
brance, is a divine commandment incumbent upon both men and women,
as is salāt. In contrast to salāt, however, dhikr can take place at any time and
in any place, whether adherents are “standing, and sitting, [or] lying on their
sides” (Sura 3:191). And although dhikr is not required five times daily, the
Qurān instructs believers to “remember God often!” (33:41). Those who re-
member God will gain “forgiveness and a great reward (33:35),” and “their
hearts will find rest” (13:28).
H.adīth literature enlarges upon the importance of dhikr. Āisha reports
that the Prophet mentioned/remembered Allah at all times of the day and
night. Moreover, according to a tradition recorded in Malik’s Muwatta:
Yah.yā related to me from Malik that Ziyād ibn Abi Ziyād said that Abud-
Dardāhad said, “Shall I not tell you the best of your deeds, and those that
give you the highest rank, and those that are the purest with your King,
and are better for you than giving gold and silver, and better for you than
meeting your enemy and striking their necks?” They said, “Of course.” He
said, “Remembrance (dhikr) of Allah ta ala.”25
Thus, in h.adīth literature and in the Qurān, ritual prayer is portrayed as the
minimum obligation, and dhikr is the means to come closer to God.26
Early Sufis built upon these extant spiritual traditions to make of dhikr one
of their central mystical practices. Medieval Sufis envisioned their spiritual
journey as a path filled with steps one needs to climb to reach the ultimate
goal — divine union. Sufi writers in different periods enumerate these stages
in different ways. These maqāmāt, as they are called, can range in number and
may include repentance, abstinence, patience, poverty, humility, fear, piety,
sincerity, gratitude, trust, satisfaction, certainty, recollection, intimacy, and
nearness. They ultimately yield the “mystical” states of union, love, detach-
ment and separation, and ecstasy.27 Meditation upon different divine names
enables the mystic not only to embark upon the path but also to ascend from
one stage to the next. Following the Qurānic command that states, “Allah’s
are the fairest names. Invoke him by them” (7:180), the Sufi attempts to come
closer to God by invoking and meditating upon his names.
The practice of dhikr became more ritualized over time. In the early stages
of Sufism, the adept had the freedom to engage in dhikr at will; as Sufi prac-
tice developed, different dhikrs were matched to different stages of the Sufi
path, and teaching the correct dhikrs became an essential aspect of a shaykh’s
(master’s) instruction.28 Typically, adepts begin their journey meditating
orally or silently upon a certain name in order to eschew all profane thoughts
and to focus exclusively upon God. Once embarked on the path, they will
invoke different names to rise through the different maqāmāt to God. Sufis
believe that each divine name conveys a different attribute of God. Every step
of the Sufi path becomes a means of knowing a different aspect of God. Mas-
tery of all the names is a means of attaining true gnosis. Indeed, al-Qushayrī
(d. 1072), one of the most important medieval Egyptian Sufis, wrote that
“[d]hikr is a strong pillar in the path toward God, nay the most important.”29
It is worth emphasizing that physical purity is not a strict requirement for
dhikr.30 Muslim menstruants did and do engage in this most acute form of
prayer. Indeed, according to Muh.ammad ibn Khalīfa al-Washtānī (1424 CE):
Menstruating women are allowed to engage in meditation (lit., “recol-
lection of God” dhikr) and Qurānic recitation — which is equivalent to
prayer — and perform all the rites of the pilgrimage except circumambu-
lation [of the Kaba]; a woman engaging in a pious retreat [who begins
to menstruate] can do everything that she was doing before except pray
and remain in the mosque, according to the two opinions current in our
school.”31
Thus impurity does not preclude women from the dhikr, the type of spiritual
devotion most esteemed in the Qurān and the central pillar of Sufi prac-
tice. Moreover, the Egyptian Sufi al-Qushayrī explains in his commentary
on the aforementioned Sura 2:222 that engaging in dhikr enables menstruat-
ing women to achieve spiritual heights impossible in ritual prayer:
Everything that requires shame and modesty is not from the free will of
the abd, and one of the deficiencies that is not the fault of the abd, is not
an act of choice, and it is not the principle of Allah’s rule, and from this is
what Allah has determined regarding women in this situation (menstrua-
tion). Then they are commanded to refrain from prayer during times of
that situation, and prayer is the salvation of the master, and the fact that
they do not come to the place of salvation (prayer) is a decree from Allah
and not a sin of women . . . And in this there is an ishāra: If they are prohib-
ited from prayer that requires bodily attendance, they are not prohibited
from continual dhikr in the heart and on the tongue, and this lays out the
prayer of carpet of nearness to Allah, as He has said: “I am the companion
of him who remembers me.”32
Some medieval Muslim legists were concerned that menstruating women
would be penalized for not saying the salāt. According to al-Qushayrī, how-
ever, there were two reasons that menstruating women should not be consid-
ered spiritually inferior. First, menstruating women observe God’s command
when they avoid the prayers proscribed to them. Second, they are prohibited
only from performing salāt — a prayer that al-Qushayrī defines “as requiring
bodily attendance” — and not from “continual dhikr in the heart and on the
tongue.” Because Sufis desire to free themselves of the confines of the body,
any prayer that requires bodily attendance is by definition inferior to prayer
that takes place in the heart. Menstruating women are not only the spiritual
equal of men engaging in salāt but may actually spiritually surpass them when
remembering God.
women in sufism
Like Judaism and Christianity, Islam is a patriarchal religion.33 The Qurān
states that women “have rights similar to those (of men) over them in kind-
ness, and men are a degree above them. Allah is Mighty, Wise.”34 Many Muslim
theologians have interpreted this Qurānic assertion to women’s detriment,
and folk literature is filled with negative characterizations of women. Though
one may interpret the Qurān literally and assert that men are above women
in body, one cannot make the same claim about the spirit, for the Qurān
states that men and women are created from the same soul.35 Within the
spiritual realm, men and women are equal. Indeed, some scholars suggest
that medieval and modern Muslim women enjoy more spiritual freedom in
Sufism than in mainstream Islam because “the credentials of mysticism are by
definition of another order, from the grace of God, and therefore, the bound-
aries of sex, and of literacy and formal education do not apply.”36
But Sufism is not antinomian. Although Sufis may imbue laws with addi-
tional spiritual symbols, they do not flout their prescribed observance. As we
have seen, the quotidian nature of impurity in Islam led to the development
of alternate forms of spiritual expression that were not regulated by one’s pu-
rity status,37 and to the absence of legal or purity barriers to menstruants’ en-
gagement in dhikr, the central pillar of Sufi practice.
There is also a conceptual explanation for women’s involvement in Islamic
spirituality. Sufis desire to leave the physical world to become one with God.
When one puts off the corporeal being, physical purity is no longer an ob-
stacle; the soul is pure. Thus, bodily impurity is not perceived as an obstacle
to divine union. Moreover, according to the Persian mystic Rūmī (d. 1273),
God is “independent of all purity and impurity.”38 Sufis internalize purity —
making it a metaphor for the purification of the soul from anything other than
God, rather than a description of a corporeal state of being. For example, the
Persian Sufi Rūzbehān Bakli (d.1209) explains that “the true meaning of pu-
rity is to be separate from creation and to be characterized by the attributes
of Reality.”39 Purification becomes a spiritual rather than ritual process. The
fourteenth-century Persian poet Hāfiz Shīrāzī elaborates:
Whenever God appears to the heart that is witnessing Him, God’s purity
purifies that heart of every fault and obstruction. Once the devotee’s heart
has become purified, his intellect becomes liberated from subject to trial.
Then because of this purity, his spirit becomes liberated from attention to
the creation. Finally, his inner consciousness, having witnessed the Loved
One, becomes purified through the enjoyment of loving-kindness.
When purity prevails in the foundation of the devotee’s nature, it affects
his senses and limbs; spiritual purification radiates throughout his being,
externally and internally. Whoever sees him, observes the majesty of God’s
purity in him, for he is the mirror of God in the world, “Indeed, God loved
repenters and those who are clean (Sura 2:222).”
The prophet said, “Purification is a part of faith.”
The Gnostic said, “Purification is the emergence of the inner conscious-
ness from the darkness of stray thoughts so that it joins the light of God’s
attributes.”
It is purity of heart rather than purity of body that is the key to Islamic mysti-
cal success.40
It is noteworthy that Hāfiz Shīrāzī underscores his symbolic reading of pu-
rity by choosing an excerpt from Sura 2:222, the Sura on menstruants, as his
proof text. His predecessor Rūmī similarly emphasizes the need for spiritual
purity for mystical pursuits against the backdrop of a woman with an exces-
sive blood flow. In his magisterial Mathnawī, Rūmī describes God’s accep-
tance of praise:
as an indulgence (which he grants), like (the indulgence granted in the

case of ) the prayers of a woman suffering from an excessive blood
flow.
Her prayers are stained with blood; your praise is stained with assimila-
tion and qualification.
Blood is foul, and (yet) it goes (is washed away) by a little water; but the
inward part (the inner man) hath impurities.
Which fail not (are not removed) from the interior (the heart) of the
man of work except by the water of the grace of the maker.41
Just as Jesus healed the woman with a flux, God accepts the prayers of a
woman with an excessive blood flow (menorrhagia). Rūmī describes the ac-
ceptance of her prayers as an act of indulgence. But in truth, his acceptance of
all prayers are acts of indulgence because our prayers are tainted with impuri-
ties far more foul than blood. Human impurity washes away easily. Impurity
of spirit is more intransigent — it is the true hindrance to prayer.
These conceptual and legal understandings of menstruation facilitated
women’s involvement in Islamic spirituality, and women have figured promi-
nently in Islamic devotion since the time of the prophet Muh.ammad. His
daughter Fātima was venerated for her piety, and many other female descen-
dents were also noted for their devoutness. In fact, there are many parallels
between Shiite veneration of Fātima and Catholic veneration of Mary.42
The best known female Islamic mystic is Rabīa al-Adawiyya of Basra,
credited with transforming the harsh asceticism of early Sufism into love mys-
ticism in eighth-century Iraq.43 She led an ascetic life and eschewed the tradi-
tional female roles of wife and mother in order to devote herself entirely to
serving God. Rabīa, however, was not the only Islamic female mystic in eighth-
century Basra — only the most famous.44 Indeed, it is likely that Basra and
Syria were centers of female asceticism from 700 to 800 CE. For example, ac-
cording to as-Sulamī’s tenth-century biography of early Sufi women, Shabaka
of Basra “specialized in the ways of scrupulousness.” She built underground
cells in her house to accommodate her female students, “where they learned
the ways of self-denial and spiritual practice.”45 Āfriyya of Basra “was constantly
enraptured and lost in the love of God. Most of her time was spent in remem-
brance of God, and she seldom associated with anyone.”46 And Shawāna
would preach and recite the Qurān to her male and female disciples. She was
known for her uncontrollable weeping, a practice common to many early
female mystics. In defense, she would say: “Can an eye be separated from its
Beloved and yearn to be united with him without weeping? This is not right!”47
Women as Men
Even though these female mystics were admired and followed, their gender
was often denied. Some scholars argue that Rabīa and her compatriots were
able to succeed along the Sufi path precisely because they were unfettered by
traditional female obligations. In fact, Rabīa and many of the early Sufi
women in Basra were freed slaves, and this experience informed and facili-
tated their spiritual paths. Living on the margins, free of social attachments,
they were able to eschew the traditional “female” roles of mother, daughter,
and wife, and transpose their experience of human servitude into their ser-
vice of God.48 Because they were not defined in relation to any being other
than the creator, these women were as socially independent as any man.
Later biographers drew this analogy on the basis of holiness rather than
social status. For example, in his biography of Sufis, ibn Attār classifies Rabīa
among men rather than women because “when a woman walks in the way
of God like a man, she cannot be called a woman.”49 The early Indian Chisti
order described the pious Fātima of Indarpat as “a man who was sent to earth
in the physical form of a woman.”50 Jami describes one pious woman in Mosul
as “man-like,” and writes that one Egyptian female ascetic should not be
called a “ ‘woman’ — for even one strand of her hair is still better that a hun-
dred men.”51 Some scholars suggest that some female mystics may have de-
sired to deny their bodily sexuality and used asceticism as a tool “to ‘become’
men.” Regimens of fasting and lack of sleep deny the body essential fats
needed to ensure menstruation. Elias argues that amenorrhea “may have been
a desired goal for female ascetics, because menstruation is the most tangible
justification used in Islamic thought and society to assign an inferior role to
women. By ridding themselves of menstruation, they essentially rid them-
selves of the sign of women’s categoric spiritual inferiority to men.”52
Philosophers and religious thinkers have used the dichotomy between
male and female to connote the opposition between spirit and body since the
ancient period. This gendered duality is a societal construction rooted in
prejudice against women that has far-reaching ramifications. The gender the-
orist Susan Bordo explains that
the cost of such projections to women is obvious. For if, whatever the
specific historical content of the duality, the body is the negative term, and
the woman is the body, then women are that negativity, whatever it may
be: distraction from knowledge, seduction away from God, capitulation to
sexual desire, violence, fear of will.53
Yet gender identity in Sufism did not fit into these neatly defined catego-
ries.54 When a male Sufi describes a spiritual woman as a man of God, he is
not directly commenting on her gender but using a societal convention to
describe her spiritual state. Manliness is godliness, femaleness is materiality.
Schimmel cites a Persian proverb that says, “Not every woman is a woman,
not every man a man; God did not make identical the fingers of one hand.”55
According to Schimmel,
the concepts “man” and “woman” are earthly, bound to the ephemeral form
made of dust. When man and woman have finally attained the state of
complete “debecoming” they no longer have an individual existence any
more.56
Female Sufis pursued an ascetic path in order to free themselves from the
confines of the body — societally constructed as feminine. According to the
logic of Muslim purity laws and Sufi practice, however, they need not physi-
cally attempt to cross the boundaries of gender by becoming amenorrheacs.
Menstruation was not an impediment to mystical union because the physical
self could not partake in spiritual ecstasy. While there are, to be sure, negative
characterizations of menstruation in Islam, the state of menstruation does
not preclude women from spiritual devotion. According to tradition, Rabīa,
“the crown of men,” menstruated.
Consider the following excerpt from the twelfth-century Persian Sufi ibn
Attār’s Conference on the Birds:
Rabīa, on the way to the Kaba seven years

Rolled on her sides. Ah! The crown of Men!
When near the Sanctuary she got, gratified,

She said, At last I have accomplished a perfect Pilgrimage.”
She aimed for the Kaba the day of the Pilgrim rites.
Manifest came upon her that which debars women.
She returned by the road and said, “O Lord of Glory,

I have rolled along this road seven years.”
When I had undergone days in mortification such as this,

He dropped in my path a thorn such as this!
Either give me, in my home, peace,

Or otherwise admit me to Thine.”
So long as there is no lover like Rabīa,
Who might experience the Power of the Master of the Event?
As soon as you become the meddler in this ocean,
Waves will rise, pushing you back and gathering you forward in their
embrace.
Sometimes they’ll repulse you from the Kaba’s front;
Sometimes within the Temple of the infidel secrets to divulge.
If from this whirlpool you can lift yourself out,
Every moment you will increase in collectedness [union with God].
But if in this maelstrom you stay caught,
Your head’ll be revolving as fast as a millstone.
You’ll find no hint for a moment of concentration’s composure;
Your time [with God] will be, by even a single fly, distracted.57
After many fruitless attempts to make pilgrimage to Mecca, Rabīa finally
reaches her destination. But just as she is about to circumambulate the Kaba,
her menstrual flow begins, forcing her to abort yet another attempt at fulfill-
ing her religious duty. Rather than disparage Rabīa for menstruating, ibn
Attār celebrates her and makes her flow an opportunity to teach all Sufis a les-
son about the symbolism of impurity. Although Rabīa was unable to per-
form her religious obligation because of her physical impurity, she retains her
unique status among lovers of God, demonstrating that any Sufi — male or
female — can become derailed from their pilgrimage to God because of the
impurity of extraneous thoughts,58 but that purity of soul and mind, rather
than purity of body are the prerequisites for spiritual success in Sufism.
Sufis as Wives and Mothers

Not only did female mystics menstruate but not all women followed Rabīa’s
model of celibacy and extreme asceticism. Many women devoted themselves
to God while wives and mothers.59 For example, Sarī-as-Saqatī (d. c. 867) had
a son; Fātima of Nishapur (d. 849) may have influenced her husband’s spiri-
tual path;60 and Rabah al Qays’ wife would adorn herself in the evening and
inquire if he desired her — if not she would resume her prayer vigil. Later
Sufis, such as ibn Abbās, advocated marriage as part of the Sufi path, for women
as for men, stating that the “asceticism of the ascetic is incomplete until he
marries.”
overcoming obstacles
Just as women in Christianity enjoyed greater involvement in church ritual
before the full organization of the church, and Jewish women functioned
more actively in the ancient synagogue, women in Islam enjoyed greater free-
dom in the developing periods of Islam than during the medieval and mod-
ern period.61 For example, as-Sulamī’s recently rediscovered tenth-century
biography of Sufi women is filled with accounts of Sufi women who were the
spiritual equals or betters of men. Once Sufism was institutionalized, how-
ever, women were pushed to the periphery and were often only portrayed as
either facilitators of or obstacles to men’s spirituality.62
Although the Sufi path may have become more difficult for female Mus-
lims, they were not formally denied access. In contrast to the silence in medi-
eval Jewish sources, there is evidence of Muslim women’s active participation
in Islamic mysticism. Indeed many persevered and found willing teachers.
Beginning in the twelfth century, women began to establish their own con-
vents throughout the Muslim world. These ribats provided shelter and edu-
cation for independent women (such as those who had divorced or been
widowed) who stood outside the established status quo. Some were led by
well-educated shaykhas, who instructed the inhabitants in Islamic law and, in
some cases, Sufism.63 In addition, several male Sufi teachers taught women
independently. The Andalusian mystic Muh.yi l-Dīn ibn al-Arabī (1165–1240),
championed women’s spiritual opportunities, and his teachings continue to
facilitate women’s involvement in Sufism today. Ibn al-Arabī believed that
women could reach the highest levels of sanctity and that the sakina, an aura
of spirituality, would rest upon both men and women alike.64 Ibn al-Arabī
taught both women and men. Indeed, of the fifteen people to whom he gave
a khirqa (Sufi robe), fourteen were women.65 Moreover, he argues that men-
struating women should engage in mystical prayer because women are pre-
cluded from salāt.
Ibn al-Arabī‘s appreciation of women may be a result of the great influ-
ence women had over his own spiritual path. His wife had mystical aspira-
tions; two of his own teachers, Shams and Fātima of Cordova were women;
and the beautiful Nizam inspired him to write his The Interpreter of Desires, a
collection of mystical love poetry in which he describes compassion as the
feminine element in God.66 Ibn al-Arabī‘s appreciation of women has cur-
rent resonances because the contemporary Syrian Sufi Qadiri Shaykhah in-
structs her menstruating female disciples to perform the minor ablutions and
to participate in the dhikr “according to the school of ibn al-Arabī.”67
Modern Muslim women are still able to devote themselves to Sufi orders,
albeit often not in as exalted a position as men. Many women are attached to
Sufi houses without becoming full members, and orders do exist — such as the
Khalwatī-Jarrāhī and the Bektāshī in Turkey and the Darqawī in Morocco —
that allow women full membership. In the case of the Darqawī, women may
also hold offices.68 And perhaps in response to the decrease of opportunities
in Sufism, women have developed alternate forms of devotion, such as ven-
eration at saint’s shrines.
The unique nature of the Islamic purity system facilitated the development of
female spirituality in two major ways. First, all Muslims — male and female
— undulate daily from states of impurity to purity. In a religion in which pol-
lution and purification form, according to Katz, “the background rhythm of
ritual life,” menstrual impurity carries no special stigma.69 It is neither conta-
gious nor dangerous. It is but one type of pollution. Second, because all im-
pure Muslims are barred from ritual prayer, alternate forms of devotion are
necessary to enable the ritually impure faithful to express their love of God.
When the Qurānic prescription to remember God, dhikr, became one of
the essential pillars of Sufi practice, women could pursue the mystical path in
all physical states because the prayer was not limited to any time, place, or
purity status. Indeed, ibn al-Arabī believed that menstruating women should
engage in mystical pursuits precisely because they are precluded from ritual
prayer. Menstruating women are neither polluted nor are their words taboo
to God.
Ritual purity is a lens through which one can see the differences between
Sufism and Jewish mysticism. Although Jewish mystics and Muslim mystics
may share similar goals, defined as gnosis or divine union, their means of
achieving that goal is contextualized by their cultural experiences. Jewish
mysticism developed after the destruction of the Temple, when Jews had nei-
ther a national homeland nor a religious center of worship. Jewish mystics
imagined a meta-Temple in which they could envision God and engage in
heavenly liturgy, and they transposed the purity requirements of the terres-
trial Temple to the heavenly realm. When this heavenly Temple became a
leitmotif in medieval mysticism, menstruating women were denied entry.
Sufism, by contrast, developed in an age when Islam was the dominant
religious and political force. Indeed, several scholars believe that the asceti-
cism of early Sufism was a reaction to Islam’s territorial expansionism. Early
Sufis desired to flee the physical world rather than to transpose its strictures
to another realm. Moreover, in addition to its political power, Islam has a
religious center, the Kaba. Given that pilgrimage to the Kaba is a pillar of
Islam incumbent upon all Muslims, and circumambulation can only be
achieved in a state of physical purity, Sufis may have felt that they could more
freely afford to divorce themselves from physical symbols. In contrast to the
Temple-centeredness of Jewish mysticism, early dhikr devotion was not con-
fined to any time or space, nor was it framed as some type of celestial Kaba.70
In other words, it is as if the existence of a physical religious center with at-
tendant demands for physical purity diminished the need for physical purity
in purely spiritual worship. The goal of the Sufi is to abandon the physical
world in an effort to achieve fanā, the complete annihilation of the self into
the divine — an ecstatic state not defined as a celestial Kaba, because the
physical one still stands. Remembering God’s manifold name alone is suffi-
cient to transform a soul unencumbered by physical concerns to a state where
assimilation to the divine is possible.

9
Menstrual Impurity in
Medieval Christianity
introduction
Rabbinic Judaism and Christianity emerge as siblings from a common parent
— Israelite religion. The rituals that Jews and Christians derived from the
Temple cult not only throw light on their differences but also underscore that
which mattered most to each culture. Early Christians conceived of them-
selves as the “true” Israel and as such had to respond to their cultic heri-
tage. Paul encouraged Gentiles to abandon outward ritual acts and serve God
through faith alone. Consequently, many church theologians abandoned le-
vitical laws completely and used the story of the woman with a flux to prove
Christian indifference to Jewish purity laws (Mark 5:25–34, Matthew 9:20–22,
and Luke 8:42–48). Patristic exegetes rarely commented on Leviticus.1
Menstrual taboos, however, remained entrenched in Christian imagina-
tion and, like their Jewish contemporaries, some Christian legists adapted
levitical purity laws to conditions of a post-Temple world. Like many Jews,
these Christians distinguished between the prohibition against engaging in
sexual relations with a menstruating woman (Lev. 18:19) and the perceived
need to separate menstruants from the sacred (Lev. 15). Often, Christian le-
gists focused on one or the other. Some theologians fashioned the church as
the true Temple and transposed the Temple purity requirements of the men-
struant and the parturient to the church. Others maintained the sexual prohi-
bition against engaging in sexual relations with menstruants and ignored the
purity stipulations. These two strands wove their way through Christian law
and penitential literature through the eleventh century.2
Close analysis of Christian rationales for menstrual separation throws light
on an essential difference between rabbinic Judaism and Christianity. Where
the rabbis advertise maintaining abstention to enhance marital libido,3 Chris-
144
tians advocate menstrual separation as a means of sexual restraint. Throughout
the early Christian Middle Ages, we see an ever-increasing suspicion of sexu-
ality in general and a concomitant exaltation of virginity. Priestly celibacy —
mandated by the fourth-century Council of Elvira — was actively required of
the clergy during widespread church reforms of the eleventh century. These
Gregorian reforms divided the Latin West into two classes in relation to the
divine: celibates who could lead Christian ritual and achieve spiritual heights,
and the rest of the population who could not. Virginity — real or reclaimed
— became prerequisite to spiritual success, and concupiscence — rather than
physical impurity — became antithetical to the sacred. But rather than ignor-
ing ritual purity, the medieval Latin church broadened its scope and redefined
impurity as lust. Menstruation, a natural bodily purgation, was no longer a
barrier to the sancta.
This new attitude toward menstruation contributed to Christian women’s
spiritual opportunities. The lenient treatment of menstruants in twelfth-
century Bible commentaries, theological treatises, and canon law coincides
with the flowering of female mysticism in Western Europe. At the very
moment that menstruants were unhesitatingly permitted church entrance,
parturients were encouraged to undergo the new ritual of churching. Chastity
was the new purity.
separating menstruants from the sacred

While early Christians may have used the Gospel story of the woman with
the flux to announce their indifference to Jewish purity laws,4 menstrual ta-
boos nonetheless remained fixed in the imaginations of many early adherents
and were manifested in two distinct ways: some Christians avoided engaging
in sexual relations with menstruants; others distanced menstruants from the
sacred sites and sacred rituals. Just as menstruants were deemed invalid for
ritual activity and barred from the Jerusalem Temple, some members of the
true Israel barred menstruants from its contemporary incarnation Ecclesia in
the early Middle Ages.
Church as Temple
After the Christianization of the empire in 329, Christians reimagined Pales-
tine as terra sancta. The term holy became the most common adjective used to
Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity · 145
describe Palestinian pilgrimage sites, religious figures, and sanctuaries, and
Christians transposed Temple art, architecture, and symbols to churches.5
Indeed, Branham suggests that church chancel screens were developed to re-
spond to the hierarchical structure of the Jerusalem Temple: the altar area
where the Christian priest gave the Eucharist was separated from the rest of
the church to emulate the Holy of Holies.6
By this time, the notion of the church as Temple had already been used
as a rationale to deny women church access. Dionysius, bishop of Alexandria
(c. 195–264), wrote:
The question concerning women in the time of their [menstrual] separa-
tion, whether it is proper for them when in such a condition to enter the
house of God, I consider a superfluous inquiry. For I do not think that
if they were believing and pious women, they would themselves be rash
enough in such a condition either to approach the holy table or to touch
the body and blood of our Lord. Certainly the woman who had the dis-
charge of blood twelve years’ standing did not touch (the Lord) Himself,
but only the hem of his Garments, with a view to the cure.
For to pray, however a person may be situated, and to remember the
Lord, in whatever condition a person may be, and to offer up petitions for
the obtaining of help, are exercises altogether blameless. But the individual
who is not perfectly pure in both soul and body shall be interdicted from
entering the Holy of Holies.7
Men who had a nocturnal emission, by contrast, were permitted to decide
independently whether or not to enter a church, guided by “the testimony of
their own conscience.” Dionysius’ hesitation reveals that he would prefer that
ejaculants refrain from church entry, but he does not demand it; he does not
equate male and female genital issue. Dionysius’ position, however, was not
universal.
The Didascalia Apostolorum, an anonymous third-century Syrian manual
for church discipline, presents a very different scenario. Rather than enforce
menstrual separation, the author denounces women in his community who
believe that they must refrain from praying, studying scripture, or from taking
the Eucharist during the seven days of their flow.8 Despite the Didascalia’s
protestation, however, laws prohibiting menstruants access to the sancta
persisted in the Eastern church throughout the Middle Ages and were later
adopted by the Orthodox Slavs.9 Indeed, Byzantine churches architecturally
reinforced women’s separation from the sacred through the construction of
side aisles and second-story galleries.10
In the West, by contrast, the status of menstruants and the sacred wavered
between the very different opinions attributed to Pope Gregory in the Libel-
lus Responsionum, written to Archbishop Augustine of Canterbury in 601,
and that of Augustine’s successor, Archbishop Theodore.11 Pope Gregory had
sent Archbishop Augustine to England to convert the pagan Anglo-Saxons
and to encourage the few existing British Christians (residing in what is
now Devon and Cornwall) to conform to Roman Catholic custom. Upon
arrival, Augustine found that menstruants, parturients, and ejaculants would
neither enter a church nor receive communion, and ejaculant priests would
not perform the mass.12 Unfamiliar with these practices that were likely in-
formed by Irish customs, Augustine asked the pope for advice, and Gregory
the Great purportedly responded with the Libellus Responsionum. The most
popular account of the ruling is found in Bede’s Ecclesiastical History.13 For
our purposes, we will focus on Augustine’s eighth (multi-part) question to
the pope:
1. Should a pregnant woman be baptized?
2. And when a child has been born, how much time should elapse before she
can enter the church?
3. And after how many days may the child receive the sacrament of baptism
so as to forestall its possible death;
4. And after what length of time may her husband have intercourse with her;
5. And is it lawful for her to enter the church if she is in her periods or to re-
ceive the sacrament of holy communion?
All these things the ignorant English people need to know.
Of these five items, all but one (4) deal with the relationship between
impurity and the sacred. Gregory’s method of interpreting Leviticus in his
response hinges on his ambivalence toward sexuality.14 Fundamentally, he es-
tablishes a strict dichotomy between the body and the spirit. When church
access is at question, he contrasts the literal interpretation of Leviticus with a
more figurative reading. When he construes levitical impurity to be rooted in
sexuality, he offers a literal interpretation of the Old Testament. Leviticus de-
crees parturients forbidden both to their husbands and to the Temple. Greg-
ory reads the Temple interdiction figuratively and the sexual prohibition liter-
ally: parturients are to be considered pure with regard to the sancta — ‘even
at the very hour of her delivery, for the purpose of giving thanks’ — but they
are forbidden to their husbands until a baby is weaned.
The dichotomy between the sexual and the sacred undergirds Gregory’s
treatment of menstruants as well. In his answer to item 5, he states:
For apart from childbirth, women are forbidden from intercourse with
their husbands during their ordinary periods; so much that the sacred
law condemned to death anyone who approached a menstruous woman.
Nevertheless (5) a woman must not be prohibited from entering a church
during her usual periods, for this natural overflowing cannot be reckoned
a crime; and so it is not fair that she should be deprived from entering a
church for that which she suffers unwillingly. For we know that the woman
who was suffering from the issue of blood humbly came behind the Lord’s
back and touched the hem of his garment and immediately her infirmity
left her. So if she, when she had an issue of blood could touch the Lord’s
garment and win commendation, why then is it not lawful for a woman in
her periods to enter the Lord’s church?” . . . A woman ought not to be for-
bidden to receive the mystery of Holy Communion at these times. If, out
of deep reverence she does not venture to receive it, that is praiseworthy;
but if she has received it she is not to be judged . . . A woman’s periods are
not sinful, because they happen naturally. But nevertheless, because our
nature is itself so depraved it appears to be polluted without the consent of
the will, the depravity arises from sin and human nature itself recognizes its
depravity to be a judgment upon it; so mankind having willfully committed
sin must bear the guilt of sin unwillingly. Let women make up their own
minds and if they do not venture to approach the sacrament of the Body
and the Blood of the Lord when in their periods, they are to be praised for
their thinking; but when as the result of the habits of a religious life, they
are carried away by the same mystery, as we have said before. For even in
the Old Testament it is the outward deeds that are observed so in the New
Testament careful heed is paid not so much to what is done outwardly
as to what is thought inwardly . . . Why should that which a pure-minded
woman endures from natural causes be imputed to her as uncleanness.15
Describing menstruation neutrally as a natural physiological process that is
free of the stain of concupiscence,16 Gregory prohibits sexual relations during
menstruation but allows menstruants church access.17 He is ambivalent about
communion but leaves women to their own discretion.
Gregory is consistent that concupiscence rather than physical impurity is
the impediment to the sacred in his discussion of ejaculants in intercourse,
urging them to wash before entering a church and admonishing that “even
when washed he ought not to enter immediately.” He explains:
Now the law commanded the ancient people that when a man had inter-
course with a woman he ought to wash himself and should not enter the
church before sunset (Lev 15:16); but this can be understood in a spiritual
sense. A man has intercourse with a woman when his mind is united with
her in thought in the delights of illicit concupiscence, so unless the fire of
concupiscence is first quenched in his mind he should not consider him-
self worthy of the company of his brethren while he sees himself burdened
by the sinfulness of depraved desire.18
Lust, rather than physical impurity, impedes ejaculants and parturients.19
Theodore of Tarsus (602–690), Augustine’s successor in Canterbury, as-
sumed his position after a devastating plague that killed all but one of the
Roman church leaders in England.20 The pope had hoped that his new ap-
pointee would ensure papal hegemony in the English church, but Theodore
did not slavishly follow the dictates of the Libellus Responsionum. In his can-
ons, we read:
Women shall not in the time of her impurity enter into a church, or com-
municate, neither nuns nor laywomen; if they presume [to do this] they
shall fast for three weeks.
In the same way shall they do a penance who enter a church before
purification after childbirth, that is, forty days.21
This reversal of Gregory’s opinion demands explanation. Why would a new
archbishop charged with ensuring Roman custom annul or ignore the opin-
ion of a pope?
Although some scholars argue that Theodore was unfamiliar with the
Libellus and was therefore not contradicting the pope when he issued his
own opinion,22 Rob Meens, who has done extensive research on Theodore
and Gregory, explains that it is highly unlikely that Theodore of Tarsus did
not know the Libellus Responsionem. He suggests that the new archbishop
consciously ignored Gregory’s ruling because of the enduring influence of
Irish customs in British Christianity and because of the influence of Greek
customs on his personal practice.23 Theodore was born in Tarsus in 602 and
was thoroughly entrenched in the cultural traditions of his native Greek- and
Syriac-speaking world, where it was customary to bar menstruants from
church ritual. Moreover, Theodore’s approach to scripture may have influ-
enced his legal writings. Theodore studied the Bible using the literal and phil-
ological approach of the Antiochene school popular in his native Tarsus.24 This
approach, in vogue among Irish biblical exegetes, facilitated comparatively
literal interpretations of the Leviticus holiness code.25 Firey suggests that,
in the world of Theodore, himself a philological and historical exegete . . .
Christians could follow Levitical prescriptions as sacral rituals that were
readily and suitably adapted in a rural, tribal, and converting culture, that
still had a keen sense of the sacrality of the universe and the need for ritual
negotiation of that universe.26
In contrast to Gregory, who favored an allegorical approach to scripture,
Theodore prioritized the menstrual purity prohibition over the sexual prohi-
bition. Indeed, as Pierre Payer has observed, Theodore mentions abstinence
during the menstrual period and after childbirth within the context of pro-
hibiting women church entry, rather than vice versa. Moreover, Theodore
not only forbids women church entry but mandates a three-week penance for
sinners.
These two competing views filtered down into early medieval penitentials
—reference manuals for spiritual leaders listing sins and their accompanying
penances — and, later, into legal literature; often these diametrically opposed
views were copied into the same manuscripts!27 Although Rob Meens has
shown that ultimately, Gregory the Great’s opinion enjoyed the greater au-
thority,28 with these two diametrically opposed traditions as legal precedents,
an administer of penance or a legist in the Latin West could pick and choose,
depending on his religious, legal, or social agenda.29 For example, the ninth-
century Poenitentiale Vindobonene contains some of the most restrictive rul-
ings regarding church access for both men and women. Meens explains that
the text emphasizes church holiness — of the clergy, of the service, and of the
physical structure — thus echoing the Temple cult and its attendant purity
requirements. It is not surprising that a penitential written during the Caro-
lingian reform movement, shortly after the installment of Charlemagne as the
Holy Roman Emperor, would resurrect the notion of church as Temple. The
purity requirements of the Temple cult made sense for the Carolingian struc-
ture.30 The penitential Canon of Regino of Prüm (840–915), by contrast, rec-
ommends sexual abstinence during menstrual period but does not explicitly
restrict menstruants’ church access. It does forbid parturients’ church access:
forty days after giving birth to boys, eighty days after girls.31
Why would a penitential pick and choose between Theodore and Greg-
ory? Why would the Latin West eventually come to emphasize the prohibi-
tions against sexual relations and the sancta yet deemphasize menstrual sepa-
ration from the sacred?32 We will explore these prohibitions and their cultural
contexts in the following section.
sexual relations during menstruation

The levitical interdictions against sexual relations with menstruants were
maintained in early medieval law codes in both the eastern and far western
bastions of Christendom — Byzantium and the British Isles. Orthodox canon
laws forbade sexual relations with menstruants for the duration of the blood
flow and barred menstruants from church ritual.33 The British and Irish
churches similarly upheld the levitical interdictions against sexual relations
with menstruants and recorded the interdictions in the penitentials.34 These
handbooks of penance also became popular on the continent. As with all
legal texts, we cannot be certain whether the penitentials accurately reflected
Christian practice. Pierre Payer suggests that the “the persistence of certain
regulations, selective borrowings, modifications made to previous canons,
and new additions all indicate that the penitentials were living documents
used for the practical ends which they frequently claim for themselves.”35 As
such, they form the basis of early medieval sexual morality.
The seventh-century penitential of Cummean states that
He who is in a state of matrimony ought to be continent during three
forty-day periods and on Saturday and on Sunday, night and day, and in
the two appointed week days (Wednesdays and Friday) after conception,
and during the entire menstrual period.36
In the tenth century, calls for abstention during menstruation most often
appeared alongside other calls for sexual abstention during holy days. Just as
Moses required the Israelites to separate for three days before receiving the
Torah at Sinai, authors of penitentials declared sexual activity inappropriate
during sacred times. Such categorization suggests that these menstrual prohibi-
tions had more to do with early medieval Christian discomfort with sexuality
than with levitical nostalgia or folk fears. Where Leviticus only require absti-
nence after parturition, Latin penitentials prohibit sexual relations with preg-
nant women and lactating mothers, who according to received wisdom could
not conceive. These proscriptions appear much more frequently than those
concerning menstruants.37
Indeed, such an understanding seems to have been part of the worldview
on the continent, too. Gallic councils do not mention any restrictions on
menstruants in the sancta. And Giselle de Nie, in her study “Contagium and
Pollution in Sixth-Century Gaul,” explains that “all evidence appears to point
to a concept of pollution that was primarily concerned with the spiritual ob-
fuscation caused by yearnings of the flesh and the ‘contagiousness’ of this
state, rather than a ‘soiling’ by organic fluids, as in the Old Testament (Leviti-
cus 15).” Gregory of Tours, in fact, refers to sexual desire as polluting and con-
tagious,38 and Christians who engaged in church-sanctioned marital sex were
required to cleanse themselves before entering a church or participating in
Christian ritual.39
The pervasiveness of sexual prohibitions underscored to priests and con-
fessants that sexuality was both dangerous and tainted by sin. Indeed, high-
medieval penitentials most often grouped women in the sections on the seven
deadly sins because of their perceived sexual danger. Church theologians per-
mitted marital sex for procreation, not pleasure.40 As James Brundage explains,
“since marital sex was a concession, not a right, and since pleasure was an
ever-present incitement to lust, penitential writers maintained that sex in
marriage must be strictly scheduled and closely monitored.”41 In his Law, Sex,
and Christian Society in Medieval Europe, Brundage calculated that an obser-
vant couple who took advantage of every possible intimate opportunity
would be able to engage in sexual relations “slightly more than once a week,
on average, over a three-year period.”42 In contrast to rabbinic texts that advo-
cated menstrual separation to enhance male libido, the Christian penitential
of St. Finnian (525–550) maintained that without periods of marital separa-
tions marriage “lacked legitimacy and degenerated into sin.”43
The influence of private penitentials begins to wane during the Carolin-
gian church reforms of the ninth century. Charlemagne sought to centralize
ecclesiastical and political authority by encouraging uniform practices sanc-
tioned by ecclesiastical authorities. The Council of Châlons (813) and the
Council of Paris (829) condemned the use of private penitentials and urged
bishops to burn them lest “unskilled priests deceive men further through
them.”44 The few church-sanctioned penitentials composed during the ninth
century drew from the Bible and patristic sources, rather than from local
customs.45
Summa for Confessors

The pastoral use of penitential literature continued to wane throughout the
tenth, eleventh, and twelfth centuries as the church shifted its favor to canon
law.46 There was, however, a second wave of penitential activity during the
thirteenth century. The Fourth Lateran Council (1215) required all Catholics
to confess their sins annually,47 but parish priests were unaccustomed to hear-
ing private confessions and administering penance. To guide priests with
their newly charged task, scholastic theologians composed pastoral guides.
These compilations differed from their early-medieval counterparts in their
scope and emphasis. Rather than slavishly copying old traditions, the authors
of the penitential compendia (summa confessorum) reevaluated early medi-
eval penitentials to meet the needs of the post-reform ecclesiastical world.
As we have seen, the early penitentials restricted almost every opportunity
for marital sexual relations. The thirteenth-century penitentials were much
more liberal: a theologian of this period had to provide some justification for
prohibiting marital sexuality.48 The new penitential manuals rationalized ab-
staining from conjugal relations with menstruating women on the basis of
potential medical risks to the fetus, risks “newly rediscovered” in recent trans-
lations of Greek medical literature.49 Moreover, many texts (especially those
written after 1215) advise rather than require abstention during menstruation.
For example, Robert of Flamborough, the administer of penance at the Abbey
of Saint Victor outside Paris, wrote a manual entitled the Liber Poenitentialis,
(The Book of Penance) to teach other priests how to grant absolution for sins
in 1210.50 In it, he explains that men should abstain from sexual relations with
menstruating women because
[e]ach month the heavy and torpid bodies of women are lightened by the
flowing of unclean blood. And if a man has intercourse with a woman at
this time, those conceived by this union are said to carry the vice of the
seed with them, and so lepers and those afflicted with elephantiasis are
born from this conception, and soundness degenerates, having been cor-
rupted by the enormity of limbs and the baseness in the bodies of them.
Therefore it is ordered, not only in the case of other women but also in the
case of their own — to whom they appear to be married — that they know
the fixed times of intercourse, when there must be conjoining and when
there must be abstaining from their wives.51
Thomas of Chobham (b. c. 1160), in his confessional manual written in

1215, similarly warns against having sexual relations with pregnant women and
menstruants because of the potential risks to the fetus. In Summa Confessione,
Peter of Poitiers (d. after 1216) warns priests that menstruating women could
infect their husbands and children with leprosy.52 Peter also mentions that
Jews do not frequently get leprosy because they do not approach menstruat-
ing women.53 Sexually transmitted diseases were often associated with lep-
rosy in the Middle Ages, thus sexual permissiveness — defined here as sexual
relations with menstruants — could also be said to lead to leprosy, redefined
as syphilis.54
The authors of these new confessional manuals were not unique in their
recourse to Greek natural philosophy. The canon lawyer Rufinus had previ-
ously justified abstention from sexual relations with menstruants on the basis
of Greek medicine. In his Summa Decretorum, written between 1157 and 1159
CE, Rufinus wrote:
And in fact this blood is so execrable and unclean, as already Julius Soli-
nus has written in the book about the marvels of the world, that through
contact with it fruits do not produce, wine turns sour, plants die, trees
lack fruit, the air darkens; if dogs eat [the blood], they are made wild by
madness. . . . Indeed is desire kept away not only because of the unclean-
ness of the menstrual flow, but also lest a defective progeny is born from
that intercourse.”55
Nevertheless, Rufinus does not forbid sexual relations with menstruants

absolutely,56 but rather — as would the later summae confessorum — he warns
against its dangers, drawing upon medical theories to posit menstrual blood
as a poisonous substance that can engender a “spoiled fetus.”57
Rufinus’s attribution of Solinus as the source of his medical theories is par-
ticularly noteworthy because there were more immediate Christian sources
at his disposal.58 Solinus’s ideas came to Christian Europe via Isidore, Bishop
of Seville (d. 636). In his Etymologies, Isidore wrote:59

The menstrual flow is a woman’s superfluous blood: it is termed “men-
strual,” because of the phase of the moon by which this flow comes about.
The moon is called mēnē in Greek. These are also called the “womanlies”
(muliebria), for women are the only menstruating animal. On contact with
this blood, crops do not germinate, new wines go sour, grasses die, trees
lose their fruit, iron is corrupted by rust, air and copper are blackened;
which should dogs eat of it, they are made rabid. Even bituminous glue,
which is dissolved neither by iron nor by [strong] waters, polluted by this
gore, falls apart by itself.60
Neither Isidore nor Solinus mentioned the association between leprosy

and menstruation, though Jerome (b. 346), church father, Bible translator
and exegete, introduced that notion to Christians in his commentary to Eze-
kiel 18. Jerome wrote that if a man has intercourse with a woman during her
period, the fetuses that are conceived draw on the defects of the semen: “The
result is that lepers and those with elephantiasis are born from the concep-
tion. The corrupted blood causes the foul bodies in both sexes to degenerate
with deformity of the members in number and size.”61 Jerome’s interpretation
was certainly known in the Latin West.62
But Rufinus’s appeal to newly discovered Greek and Roman medicine,
rather than extant Latin Christian sources, speaks to a conscious attempt
to justify menstrual separation on the basis of medical science — a hallmark
of thirteenth-century summa confessorum menstrual prohibitions. Because
of the attendant danger to the fetus, abstinence during menstruation was be-
lieved to be a necessity, a “moral obligation,” rather than a vestige of Old Tes-
tament purity rituals.63
Yet even given these potential medical risks, the Dominican friar Ray-
mond of Peñafort does not mention sexual relations with menstruants in his
Summa on Marriage (written after 1234).64 And John of Freiburg states that
while one should not ask for sexual relations with menstruants, if a spouse
demands sexual relations, the other spouse is duty-bound to comply.65 In-
deed, throughout the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, we see a gradual loos-
ening of the bonds of menstrual laws in favor of satisfying the marriage debt,
that is, the duty of both husbands and wives to fulfill each other sexually.66
In the High Middle Ages, the requirements for menstrual separation trans-
formed in the medieval church. Sexual relations between a husband and a

menstruating wife were medically unadvisable but not religiously forbidden,
and, with the exception of Thomas of Chobham’s, no well-known thirteenth-
century penitential text barred menstruants from access to the sancta.67 Sexu-
ality, rather than menstrual impurity, barred one from the sacred precincts.
As Robert of Flamborough explains in his confessional manual:
Whoever has rendered what is owed to his wife cannot be free for prayer,
nor eat of the flesh of the lamb.
Likewise, if the bread of the Temple offerings could not be eaten by
those who had touched their wives (Leviticus 7:20; 15:16–18), so much
more is it the case that the bread that descended from heaven cannot be
violated and polluted by those who a short time before had clung to con-
jugal embraces. Not because we condemn marriage, but because at this
time when we are about to eat the flesh of the lamb, we should be free of
the flesh.68
impurity redefined
The spiritual and sexual opportunities of menstruants improved at precisely
the same moment that celibacy became the sine qua non for spiritual pur-
suits. The loosening of the purity restrictions against menstruants and the
concomitant distrust of sexuality with regard to the sancta must be viewed
within the context of the Gregorian Reform Movement and its aftermath.
That is not to say that Christian ambivalence toward sexuality was unique to
the medieval Latin West. The esteem many medieval Christians felt for vir-
ginity went to Christianity’s inception and survives among many Christians
today.69 Yet celibacy was not an absolute requirement for clergy until 1123.
This clerical sexual revolution was the result of the Gregorian Reforms, a
movement that undergirded the major theological and intellectual endeavors
of the twelfth century, including the Glossa Ordinaria and Gratian’s Decretum.
These, in turn, affected the social and religious lives of medieval women.
Church Reform
After years of subjugation to feudal lords, clerics in the eleventh century
undertook a series of reforms to assert church authority and to revitalize
Christian spirituality throughout the Latin West. Toward this end, reformers
emphasized that clergy were uniquely qualified to serve as mediators be-
tween God and man. This sacerdotalist agenda led to the creation of an even
stricter dichotomy between the clergy and the laity as reformers sought to
purify the church from all things tainted by the secular world. They ulti-
mately divided Christians into two categories: those who served God and
everyone else. They established new monastic orders and outlawed simony,
lay investiture, clerical marriage, and concubinage. Just as Ezra had required
the returning Israelites to cast away their pagan wives, clergy across Europe
abandoned their wives, children, and concubines to starvation, prostitution,
or death.70
These clerical reforms initiated two apparently contradictory trends. On the
one hand, we find that virginity — ever venerated — was elevated to an even
more exalted level; on the other hand, allowances for marital sex — including
sexual relations with menstruating women — increased dramatically. This
apparent contradiction was part of the reformers’ deliberate attempt to create
a bifurcated society. According to Dyan Elliot, “lay chastity, whether heretical
or orthodox, had the potential to challenge the structure of Christian society.
It was necessary to deflect the laity from too rigid an imitation of the theologi-
cal model of marriage.”71
The eleventh-century reforms were brought to fruition during the twelfth.
The reformers’ agenda could only succeed if enforced through educational and
legal change, so twelfth-century scholars organized the diverse biblical inter-
pretations, legal opinions, and theological notions received from their fore-
bears and systematized them into a unified whole, thereby creating a Christian
truth for a Christian world. Biblical exegetes compiled the Glossa Ordinaria, a
running commentary on the entire Hebrew Bible and New Testament that
became the standard for all subsequent Bible studies. Theologians, most no-
tably Peter Lombard, collected a myriad of theological opinions and orga-
nized them into a four-volume compendium of Christian theology entitled
The Four Books of Sentences (Libri Quattuor Sententiarum). And most famous
of all, in legal studies, Gratian wrote his Harmony of Discordant Canons, the
consummate textbook of canon law. The Glossa Ordinaria, the Sentences of
Peter Lombard, and Gratian’s Decretum formed the basis of Catholic studies
until modern times, and they are particularly important for our understand-
ing of menstruation. Because of their enduring influence and popularity, their
interpretation of menstruation and female impurity had a profound effect on
women’s social and spiritual lives.
systematizing scripture: the glossa ordinaria
Early Medieval Exegesis of Leviticus 15
The Glossa Ordinaria is a running commentary on the Old and New Tes-
taments derived from earlier Christian exegesis. However, there were few
sources from which the Glossa could derive its exegesis of Leviticus. Many
church fathers wrote commentaries on the Old Testament, but few devoted
their time to Leviticus because they considered literal and rational interpre-
tations of the priestly laws impossible. Neither Augustine nor Gregory nor
Jerome nor Ambrose devoted an exclusive commentary on Leviticus. The
few early church fathers who did comment on the book treated impurity al-
legorically as a metaphor for sin and considered the need for ritual immersion
after physical impurity superfluous after baptism.72 Thus the authors of the
Glossa Ordinaria looked to the efforts of early medieval biblical scholars. An
anonymous early medieval interpretation of Leviticus 15, erroneously attrib-
uted to Bede, offers an entirely allegorical interpretation.73 The author under-
stands the zav as a man who does not know how to impose a limit on his
words. Playing on the double meaning of seed, the text explains that “the
sermon of evangelical doctrine is a good seed which grows in the hearts of
listeners in good ground,” whereas evil teaching (symbolized by the zav’s un-
controlled flux) is bad seed which the evil man sows. Just as the man with flux
pollutes, those who have been touched by his teachings are also polluted and
must be cleansed. The commentary similarly allegorizes the ejaculant as one
polluted by sexual concupiscence. Such a man is unclean “all the way until
evening (Lev 15:16)” because just as “evening is the end of the day, and the
beginning of the night, thus also punishment is the end of empty happiness
and the beginning of salubrious sadness.”
The commentary’s interpretation of the menstruant is the most extraordi-
nary. The niddah refers not to women but “to men effeminated by women,”
that is, to men who have lost their virility to women because of their sexual
desire:
For anyone effeminated by women has nothing virile in himself and when
the time of desire returns he discharges blood, that is, if he had anything
good, he loses it through negligence, and he is separated for seven days,
in order for him to recognize that he is subject to seven demons. “[If the
blood of desire ceases] after seven days have been counted, let him who
has been cured be found as if purged on the eighth day by the received
grace of the seven-fold spirit.”
The zavah (a woman with an uncontrollable blood flow) is similarly con-

strued as a man who does not reign in his passion.74
Rabanus of Mainz (Hrabanus Maurus c. 780–856), abbot of Fulda and
bishop of Mainz, was the most influential source for later exegesis on Leviti-
cus. One of the most educated and prolific churchmen of the Carolingian Re-
naissance, Rabanus reworked and “updated” Isidore of Seville’s Etymologies in
his twenty-two volume De Rerum Naturis (On the Nature of Things). Rabanus
reinterprets Isidore’s aforementioned “scientific” understanding of menstrual
blood using the allegorical mode of Bede and, in so doing, advocates a spiri-
tual observance of Lev. 20:18.75
[By] allegory the flow of blood can be understood as the obscenity of idol-
atry, and the pollution of errors. And in this way the time of menstruation
is to be understood to be that time in which the entire world was involved
in error and idolatry. And it is not permitted to approach a menstruating
woman, nor to have intercourse with her; because neither is it permitted to
Catholic men to have commerce with the idolatry of pagans or the heresy
of heretics.76
Isidore had expatiated upon dangers of menstrual blood; Rabanus construes

the physical blood flow as a symbol for idolatry. In transvaluing physical im-
purity from an external physical state to an internal spiritual state of being, his
approach foreshadowed an interpretive trend that would become popular dur-
ing the twelfth-century Renaissance.77
Rabanus also wrote a complete commentary on Leviticus as part of a
comprehensive exegesis on the Pentateuch.78 Carolingian exegetes typically
wove their own commentary onto a matrix of patristic works, acknowledg-
ing sources — or not — as they saw fit. Rabanus, however, had little exegetical
material from which to draw for Leviticus, outside of works by Origen and
Hesychius of Jerusalem. Instead, he depended on his own experience as abbot
of Fulda, encyclopedist, and penitentialist to recast Leviticus as a penitential
text. Then, in contrast to earlier Irish penitentials, he allegorized the impuri-
ties delineated in Leviticus as symbols for the seven deadly sins.79 Rabanus’s
work was not immediately popular although it would become so. It was his
commentary that became the basis for the Glossa Ordinaria on Leviticus.
The Glossa Ordinaria
The monastic exegeses of Rabanus and his fellow Carolingians were encyclo-
pedic, but also verbose and poorly organized, making easy referencing nearly
impossible. In an effort to create more effective teaching tools, Bible scholars
in the cathedral schools of the eleventh and twelfth centuries reconfigured
and systematized these earlier commentaries into running glosses. The Glossa
Ordinaria, a straightforward and concise commentary with complementary
and often distinct interlinear explanations, was the most famous and influen-
tial of these endeavors.80 Often known as “the Gloss,” the Glossa Ordinaria
became the definitive biblical commentary throughout the Middle Ages.
Rabanus’s interpretation of menstrual impurity, as reflected in the Glossa,
became the standard interpretation throughout the Latin West and had far-
reaching influences.
Anselm of Laon was likely the guiding force behind the Glossa Ordinaria.
Given his many obligations as master of the cathedral school, he was unable
to complete the entire gloss and entrusted large sections to his students. The
commentary on the Pentateuch went to Gilbert the Universal (d. 1134), who
earned his soubriquet because of his breadth of knowledge.81 Given the dearth
of exegesis on Leviticus, Gilbert interspersed his own observations amid a
nearly verbatim rendering of Rabanus’s allegorical commentary.
The Glossa on Leviticus 15:19, Leviticus 20:18, and Genesis 31:35 shed a
great deal of light on medieval exegesis in general and attitudes toward men-
struation in particular. Medieval Christian exegetes generally employed a four-
fold method of interpretation — literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogical.
Early Christian exegetes had claimed that literal interpretation of Leviticus
was impossible. The Glossa, however, uses the literal aspect of menstruation
to curb sexual desire. Otherwise, it interprets menstruation symbolically, as
an allegory for sin and idolatry or as a mark of humility and a characteristic
of ecclesia.
Menstrual Laws as a Temporary Cure for Concupiscence

The connection between menstruation and libido contributes to a common
theme in the Glossa Ordinaria. One explanation of Leviticus 15:19 interprets
menstruation literally as an occasion to speak about something more im-
portant than itself. The Gloss understands that God generously prescribes a
seven-day period of conjugal separation during a women’s menstrual period
to help men and women curb their lust. The author substantiates his interpre-
tation with a Christianized perspective on Jewish practice: “The Jew in the
flesh was able to be helped though this law.” Though diametrically opposed
to the talmudic justification for retaining menstrual separation after the de-
struction of the Temple, this Christianized perspective suggests Christian fa-
miliarity with Jewish practice.82 The gloss on Leviticus 20:18 — ‘If a man lies
with a woman in her infirmity and uncovers her nakedness, he has laid bare
her flow; both of them shall be cut off from among their people’ — also uses
menstrual prohibitions to promote sexual abstinence more explicitly, stating
that “the legislator intends to persuade chastity; that we not continually min-
gle with men and women in the manner of beasts; but that, as if compelled,
we come to the practice of continence little by little.”
Menstruation as Sin and Idolatry

Alongside the literal use of menstruation to curb sexual appetite, the Glossa
offers another interpretation of Leviticus 15:19, and this one treats the men-
struant symbolically, as an effeminate soul polluted by base thoughts. Just as
the menstruant in Leviticus is rendered ritually impure independent of any
physical act — or in the words of the gloss, “the menstruant pollutes herself
by herself ” — a soul becomes polluted by merely entertaining evil thoughts.
Menstrual impurity signifies that “evil thoughts and volitions need not be
completed by work; in the eyes of God, they are considered as deeds and
punished.”
Another opinion understands the menstrual flow as idolatry and the seven-
day flow of the menstruant as a metaphor for the ages of man “all the way to
completion.” In so doing, the Glossa grafts an Augustinian eschatological
scheme onto the imposed period of separation of the menstruant. Augustine
of Hippo believed that the there were six ages of man and a seventh age of
salvation before the eschaton. Just as menstrual blood flows for seven days,
idolatry will flow through the seven ages of man until the end time. The
Bible’s exhortation to separate from menstruants should be understood alle-
gorically as the need to separate from idolatry, idolaters, and their supporters.
The levitical warning not to touch vessels, chairs, or beds that menstruants
had sat on or slept in similarly signifies the need to steer clear of any idola-
trous accoutrements.
The gloss on Leviticus 20:18 also offers a symbolic interpretation to com-
plement the literal one, and it similarly construes the “menstruant” as the
“whole error of idolatry and sacrifices” and “the wisdom of the Gentiles.” Just
as the holiness code punishes a couple engaging in sexual relations during
menstruation with karet (cutting off ), a man who approaches idolatry “will
be killed in the midst of his people, lest he be called a man who has alienated
images of God by ignoring the creator. And she too will be killed, lest it
be called wisdom; because the wisdom of this world is stupidity in the eyes
of God.”
Ecclesia as Menstruant
The gloss on Rachel hiding Laban’s idols (Genesis 31:35), a narrative rather
than a legal passage, offers an interesting twist on the interpretation of men-
struation. Rachel sits on her father’s idols while he greedily scours her tent for
his material goods. While “nature teaches that children should rise before
their parents,” Rachel excuses herself for remaining seated upon her father’s
entry by stating that “the way of women is upon me.” Unlike in the legal pas-
sages discussed above, the Glossa Ordinaria does not relate this phrase in any
way to sexual abstinence. Nor does the text choose to suggest that menstru-
ating Rachel is incapacitated in any way. On the contrary, although the gloss
explains that by this phrase “she indicates that she is menstruating,” the au-
thors do not understand this physiological state in negative terms. Rather,
they extol the menstruating Rachel and see her as a symbol of the church.
Rachel seated — a mark of her humility and penitence — covers the idols, as
the church “covers the vice of terrestrial concupiscence through the humility
of penitence.” Thus menstruating Rachel signifies the church, “who suppress
idols by sitting as we condemn the guilt of avarice by penitence,” whereas
Laban “follows the uncleanness of avarice as if menstruating.” Father Laban,
therefore, is the true menstruant. Spiritual impurity, rather than female biol-
ogy, is the source of sin and censure.
The Glossa Ordinaria on Leviticus strips menstruation of its physiological
origins and cultic associations to make it a means to restrain libido and a ci-
pher for idolatry and heresy. In neither case is menstrual impurity itself a
problem, and it is certainly not a mark of demonic possession. Indeed, the
story of Rachel and the idols in Genesis does not relate in any way to sexual
abstention, nor does it describe the menstruating Rachel as idolatrous. Rather
than demonize Rachel and her flow, the Glossa valorizes her. Rachel the men-
struant is recognized as the symbol of ecclesia and a model of humility and
virtue for all to follow. During this age of systematization, the physiological
state of menstruation is transformed into a state of humility characteristic of
the church, and libido and heresy become the true pollutants.
the glossa ordinaria’s partner:

the historia scholastica
Peter Comestor (d. 1178), a Paris master who became chancellor of Notre
Dame, took a different approach in his Historia Scholastica, a summary of
biblical history used alongside the Glossa Ordinaria as a study aid in cathe-
dral schools and universities. Although used in tandem, the two texts differ
markedly in their treatment of levitical purity laws. Where the Glossa inter-
preted menstruation allegorically, Comestor interpreted the Hebrew Bible —
including Leviticus — literally.83
In his paraphrase of Leviticus 15, Comestor equates male and female im-
purity, noting that the zav and zavah were subject to the same laws of unclean-
ness and purification because they suffered from similar diseases.84 Menstru-
ants, by contrast, need not perform any special ritual acts of purification.
They need only wash themselves and their clothing because only “morbid
states of uncleanness equivalent to sin” would require a salutary offering.”
Menstruation does not because “it is natural.”85 Comestor thus maintains the
levitical distinction between the zavah and niddah, thereby offering a more
literal reading than contemporary Jewish scholars who were obligated by rab-
binic tradition! Comestor, moreover, considers as logical the levitical com-
mand that men who engage in sexual relations with menstruants are impure
for seven days and must wash themselves to be purified, given that men and
women who slept with their legitimate spouse were deemed impure until
evening and needed to purify themselves.86
Comestor also describes menstruation neutrally in his commentary on
Genesis 18. Sarah laughed when she heard that she would conceive a son,
because
they (Abraham and Sarah) were both old and the female things of Sarah had
ceased, that is, menstruation, with the cessation of which also ceases the
power of giving birth.87
Menstruation for Comestor is a natural physiological process that indicates
fertility.
Parturition, by contrast, is tainted by its very nature. After waiting for the
prescribed period of purification (forty days for a boy, eighty for a girl), the
parturient must, according to Leviticus, offer two sacrifices — a one-year-old
lamb as a burnt offering and a pigeon or a turtledove as a sin offering (12:6).
Although Leviticus is silent on the rationale for the offerings, Comestor offers
that two sacrifice are necessary to atone for two distinct sins: that of the
mother who conceived the baby in lust and that of the baby born in a state of
original sin.88 Comestor associates parturition with lust and sin; menstrua-
tion, by contrast, is a natural state of being.
The reformers’ discomfort with sexuality became a part of medieval popu-
lar imagination. The Glossa Ordinaria and the Historia Scholastica influenced
both scholars and laymen because the texts provided all students of scripture
with a standard Christian interpretation of the Holy Writ which they could
then preach. The Gregorian agenda, however, was most effectively enforced
through the resurgence and implementation of canon law. During the same
period when exegetes systematized biblical commentary, many scholars cre-
ated legal compendia to promote their sacerdotalist agenda. The most endur-
ing of these efforts is Gratian’s Decretum.
gratian’s decretum and its precursors

Efforts to systematize canon law go back to the ninth century, and strikingly,
these earlier compendia restrict menstruants. One of the first attempts to
reassert church control over the laity was the Libro duo de synodalibus causis
et disciplinis ecclesiasticus (The Collection in Two Books) by Abbot Regino of
Prüm (845–915). Regino divides his legal work into two separate volumes, the
first dedicated to the clergy and the second to the laity, thus distinguishing the
two in both content and form. He forbids sexual congress with menstruants.
Burchard, bishop of Worms (b. 965), completed his twenty-volume Decre-
tum between 1000 and 1025. In this massive work, Burchard attempted to
cover all aspects of Christian life, including confession. Although the interest
in using penitential literature for pastoral work had dwindled on the conti-
nent by 1000, Burchard nonetheless set out to organize extant penitential lit-
erature for ecclesiastical use. Book 19, the manual for confessors, was the most
popular section of the Decretum and was often copied separately under the
title The Corrector. Burchard requires sexual abstinence during menstruation
and, significantly, denies menstruating nuns and laywomen access to the
sancta. Those who dare must do penance for twenty-one days. Burchard justi-
fies his ruling on the basis of Archbishop Theodore of Tarsus’s canons, thereby
reinvigorating Theodore’s waning influence in the Latin West.89
Bishop Ivo of Chartres compiled an even larger and more unwieldy col-
lection of canon law, also entitled the Decretum, at the end of the eleventh
century. According to the available printed sources, Ivo quotes Burchard’s
Corrector on menstruants verbatim.90 Ivo’s Panormia, a shorter, more orga-
nized, and far more influential version of canon law, does not restrict men-
struants’ access to the sacred.91
These early works retain many of the limitations on sexual congress with
menstruants characteristic of their penitential sources. In fact, in the early
period of the reforms it is possible the reformers were so eager to distance
themselves from anything sexual that they selected like-minded texts from all
sources at their disposal without concern for developing an underlying ratio-
nale for their stance. Indeed, according to James Brundage, early reformers
“considered sex and other pleasurable experiences tainted by evil and a po-
tent source of sin. They were not merely suspicious of sex, but hostile to any
sexual activity at all, save for marital relations undertaken expressly and con-
sciously to conceive a child. The reformers, even more than the penitential
authors and earlier patristic authorities, were intent on limiting marital sex and
on penalizing extramarital sex as severely as they could.”92 Such zeal underlies
Burchard’s inclusion of strictures against menstruants that had been ignored
for centuries. Despite their fervor, however, eleventh-century reformers were
unable to produce one comprehensive and enduring law code. Although the
reformers successfully put an end to clerical marriage, their law codes were
too unwieldy, unorganized, irrational, and contradictory to be enforced in so-
ciety at large. Yet reformation’s goals could only permeate Christian society
by means of a coherent and organized code of canon law. In the 1140s, Gratian
rose to the challenge and, in so doing, changed the history of canon law and
the opportunities for Christian women in the twelfth century.93
Gratian’s Decretum
In his Harmony of Discordant Canons, more commonly known as the Decre-
tum, Gratian systematically organized and analyzed 3,945 canons, aligning
diverging opinions and harmonizing them to create a comprehensive code.94
His work almost immediately became the standard textbook and the point of
reference for all subsequent discussions of canon law. But the text was not
consigned to the ivory tower. Gratian’s Decretum touched upon almost every
aspect of Christian public and private life. Because no matter of Christian law
was outside its purview, the Decretum also became an instrument for con-
trolling the sexual practices of Christians.95 The church’s fear of lust and its
accompanying openness to menstruation exerted its most far-reaching influ-
ences when enunciated in this most influential work of canon law. In contrast
to Jewish sources that permit marital sexual relations in ritual purity and re-
strict menstruants, the Decretum is negative about sexuality in general but not
in ways that restrict menstruants’ access to the church or to God.
Decretum on Human Sexuality and the Marriage Debt

Influenced by Augustine, Gratian, like many of his contemporaries, believed
that lust was the byproduct of original sin and polluting. Marital intercourse
is a concession, necessary for three reasons: for procreation, to forefend adul-
tery, and to pay the marriage debt — the duty of both husbands and wives
to fulfill each other sexually.96 Nonetheless, any type of sexual satisfaction
barred one from the sacred.97 Like the baal qeri in Leviticus, any man who
had an emission of semen is charged by the Decretum to wash before entering
a church or receiving the Eucharist.
Though Gratian permitted sexual relations in marriage for procreation, he,
like the penitentials, prescribed periods of sexual abstinence. Unlike the peni-
tentials, Gratian subordinated the religious requirements for marital absten-
tion to the payment of the marriage debt.98 A husband or wife should not
demand sexual intercourse during forbidden times; but if one does, the other
is obligated to satisfy the debt.99 In his four-volume systematization of theol-
ogy, Peter Lombard (1100–1160) similarly subordinated church requirements
to the marriage debt.100
Interestingly, as Pierre Payer notes, neither Gratian nor Lombard explicitly
mention sexual abstention during menstruation in their discussion of marital
abstention.101 Nonetheless, some later legists, such as John of Freiburg, as-
sumed that Gratian subordinated the taboo against sexual relations with men-
struants to the marriage debt as well.102 Even those scholars who understood
the marriage debt more narrowly still made concessions for sexual relations
during menstruation. The Bolognese canon lawyer Huguccio (d. 1210), who
believed that all sexual relations — even for procreation — were sinful, stated
that it is a mortal sin to have sexual relations with a menstruant. Therefore, if
a wife were a menstruant, a husband should not pay the marriage debt unless
he believed that she would commit adultery.103
By the beginning of the thirteenth century, the church as a whole had soft-
ened its stance, and this trend continued for another two hundred years.
While many Dominicans believed that married couples who engaged in sexual
relations during menstruation sinned, they lessened the degree of sinfulness
from mortal to venial.104 Pope Innocent III upheld Gratian’s interpretations,
and these views were incorporated into his collection of canon laws. As James
Brundage writes, “earlier prohibitions against intercourse during pregnancy
and menstruation produced a rich casuistry to deal with doubts about the prac-
tice, but most thirteenth- and fourteenth-century writers treated ritual purity as
a minor issue.” Even when restrictions reappear in the moralistic literature of the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, they are “low on the list of sexual offenses.”105
The loosening of the bonds of sexual relations for laymen occurred at the
same moment that lust was vilified and virginity valorized. Sexuality became
the means to distinguish between the laity and the clergy.106
Ritual Purity and the Sancta

Gratian’s permissive stance on menstrual purity is inversely proportional to
his attitude on sexual pollution. Menstruation is not libidinous; lust, by con-
trast, is the byproduct of original sin and is morally polluting. Gratian devel-
ops this understanding in his discussion of natural law. He defines natural law
as the most ancient and authoritative source of law, “contained in the law and
in the gospel” and completely rational and immutable. Yet here Gratian must
concede that certain practices described in the Hebrew Bible are no longer
practiced. Despite changes in observances, Gratian concludes that natural law
is immutable: “Natural law is contained in the Law and the Gospel, but it can
be shown that not everything contained in the law and the gospel pertains to
natural law. Moral precepts are immutable; symbolic precepts derived from
observances are immutable; the observances themselves are not.”107
Gratian had at hand a myriad of defunct laws to prove his theory on nat-
ural law. He chose to build his argument on the levitical purity laws of the
menstruant and the parturient:
For in the Law [Lev. 12:2–5] it was commanded that a woman not enter the
Temple for forty days if she had given birth to a male child, and for eighty
days in the case of a female child. In contrast, a woman is not now prohib-
ited from entering a church immediately after giving birth. Again a woman
undergoing menstruation was considered unclean according to the law.
Now, however, she is not prohibited from entering a church immediately
or from receiving the sacrament of Holy Communion; nor is it prohibited
that a mother or her child be baptized immediately after the birth.
Gratian quotes directly from Gregory’s Libellus Responsionem to demon-

strate the mutability of purity laws and concludes his argument with the fol-
lowing excerpt:
[A] woman undergoing the usual period of menstruation should not be

prevented from entering a church since fault ought not to be imputed to a
excrescence of nature. Thus, it is unjust that, on account of what is suffered
unwillingly, they be deprived of the entrance into a church. For we know
that the woman who suffered from the issue of blood, coming up behind
the Lord, touched the hem of his garment and was immediately freed
from her infirmity [Matthew 9:20–23]. Therefore, if it was praiseworthy
for her with the issue of blood to touch the garment of the Lord, why
should a woman suffering from menstrual bleeding not be allowed to enter
the Lord’s church? . . . If then it was proper that the woman presumed to
touch the Lord’s garment in her illness, why should what was granted to one
infirm person not be conceded to all women who endure a similar infir-
mity due to a natural debility?
Reception of holy communion should not be prohibited during the
same period. If a woman on account of her great reverence, does not pre-
sume to receive that is to be commended; but if she also receives she is not
to be judged. Even when they have no fault good people will sometimes
acknowledge one. This is because things that happen without fault often
occur on account of a fault. For example, we eat, which is without fault,
when we are hungry, but it is because of the first man’s sin that we become
hungry.
Gratian’s argument is groundbreaking. He refutes the menstrual laws of

Leviticus 15 and permits menstruants full access to the sancta. Moreover, he
uses the Libellus Responsionum in the service of his liberal agenda. Gratian was
also familiar with the opinions of Archbishop Theodore — in fact, he quotes
Theodore’s stance on sexual relations with an adulterous wife.108 About men-
struants, however, Gratian cites only Gregory, thereby forcing Theodore’s
opinion on menstruants and the sacred, recently reintroduced by Burchard,
back into oblivion.109
Gratian’s Decretum was the most enduring code of Christian law until
the twentieth century. Scholars memorized it, students studied its logic and
its theories, and the laity lived it. It is no coincidence that the most impor-
tant work of medieval law wholeheartedly gave menstruants access to the
sacred precisely at the same time that women’s spirituality was flowering in
the twelfth century.
female mystics in the latin west

From the 1100s to the 1500s, we see the development of many different pub-
lic modes of Christian female spirituality. Groups of religious women — such
as the Beguines in Central Europe, Tertiaries (lay devotees associated with
the Dominican and Franciscan orders), and Beatas in Spain — banded to-
gether in cities and led pious lives in public view. Among all of these changes,
the most well known is the development of female mysticism. The twelfth
century was the age of Christina of Markate (1096/8–1160) and Hildegard of
Bingen (1098–1179). And by the thirteenth century, as Caroline Bynum notes,
“women were more likely than men to be mystics, to gain reputation based on
their mystical abilities and . . . were primarily responsible for encouraging
and propagating some of the most distinctive aspects of late medieval piety.”110
The rise of female spiritual movements was a new phenomenon in Chris-
tian culture of the Latin West. Factors that contributed to it certainly include
the growth of cities, the dearth of marriageable men, and the shelter that
women’s movements offered in violent times, all elements of the changing
social realities of twelfth-century Europe.111 Yet the development in the Latin
West of female mysticism must also be viewed in light of the new attitudes
toward menstruation and sexuality popularized in biblical exegesis, theology,
and canon law.112 Menstruation was no longer a barrier to the sacred, and
virginity became the essential criteria for mystical pursuits.113 Hildegard, for
example, rejects the idea that menstruating women be barred from the church,
while upholding the prohibition barring men wounded in battle from church
entry “lest they violate the integrity of Christ’s Temple.” Barbara Newman
says Hildegard’s opinion sent a clear message: “A man who has shed blood in
warfare is unclean, like fratricidal Cain; but a woman shedding her own blood
is not. Even though Eve’s wound is a punishment for sin, it is nonetheless
God-given and therefore sacred.”114 Hildegard herself wrote that God does
“not disdain this time of suffering in women.”115
The reform movement had divided Christian society into two: celibates
for heaven, the laity on earth. Though women could not attain official authori-
tative positions outside of the convent, they could achieve authority in the
church through prophecy. Indeed, Thomas Aquinas allowed that
[p]rophecy is not a sacrament but a gift from God . . . And since in matters
pertaining to the soul woman does not differ from man as to the thing (for
sometimes a woman is found to be better than many men as regards the
soul), it follows that she can receive the gift of prophecy and the like, but
not the sacrament of the orders.”116
Virginity was the established precondition for prophecy or visionary expe-
rience.117 Given that most women’s mystical knowledge was infused through
the spirit rather than formal study, most female visionaries were unlearned.
Their virginity, divine grace, and the approbation of male church leaders gave
them their only clout.118
By contrast, menstrual purity was not a prerequisite to God. A. J. Minnis’s
study of the opinions of eleven scholastic theologians over the period 1240–
1337 on the question of whether women could be ordained found that not one
of these eleven — including Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) Bonaventure (1217–
1276) and John Duns Scotus (1265–1308) — justified women’s exclusion from
holy orders on the basis of her menstrual period.119 Moreover, though the Vir-
gin Mary was free of the stain of original sin, she was nonetheless the natural
mother of Jesus. Because she was a mother, albeit the mother of God, Chris-
tian theologians understood that her physiology must have logically resem-
bled that of all mothers; menstrual blood was understood to be an essential
fetal nutrient that the body later converted into breast milk. Theologians there-
fore determined that Mary did menstruate even though she was free of the
curse of Eve.120
Even though amenorrhea was seen as a sign of spiritual grace, and despite
the likelihood that some women took affirmative steps to achieve it,121 it was
not a requirement for mystical access. It was an ex post facto sign of holiness
in those for whom it occurred, rather than a prerequisite. The reforms of the
tenth and eleventh century had reinforced existing suspicions concerning
sexuality and given rise to a new understanding of menstruation. By the thir-
teenth century, sexuality rather than bodily purity had become the major
impediment to divine pursuits, allowing virgins — both male and female — to
achieve heavenly heights.122
For medieval Christians, menstruation was a natural physiological process

that did not bar one from sacred ritual. By contrast, lust, the product of origi-
nal sin, was morally and ritually polluting. Laws prohibiting sexual relations
with menstruants were maintained for medical reasons and to curb human
libido. Sexual relations with menstruants, however unadvisable, were permis-
sible to pay the marriage debt. Menstrual laws decreased in inverse relation-
ship to the rise of the view that all sexual relations were barriers to the sacred:
only those free of the stain of sexuality could approach the sacred or receive
the Holy Spirit. Sexuality in general, rather than bodily effluxes, pollutes. This
new definition of impurity as libidinal reduced the stigma on physical impu-
rity, permitted menstruants access to the sacred, and facilitated the flowering
of female Christian mysticism in the twelfth century. This window of oppor-
tunity would begin to close when menstrual pollution returned to the fore
and aligned women with the demonic in the later Middle Ages.123
Ritual purity and virginity served almost identical functions in the sibling
religions. Early Christians, as noted by Peter Brown, believed that virgins were
temples of the Holy Spirit and served as mediators between God and man.
Only those liberated from the confines of sexuality were free to live like angels
who worship God on his throne of glory. Indeed, for early Christians, virgin-
ity endowed a person with the same “supernatural spiritual abilities” pos-
sessed by the Hekhalot mystic who required physical purity to participate
in heavenly liturgy or to serve as a mediator between heaven and earth by
adjuring an angel.124 After the Gregorian reforms, celibacy was required of all
priests. Concupiscence functioned as a polluting force that disqualified clergy
from ecclesia, the Christian equivalent of Temple,125 just as menstrual impu-
rity denied medieval kabbalists entry into the celestial Temple.
Notions of purity and impurity do not disappear in Christianity; rather,
they are redefined. The Middle Ages witnessed the emergence of sexuality as
the new impurity.

Conclusion
According to a popular midrashic tradition, the nonagenarian Sarah never

menstruated until three angels arrived to announce the birth of Isaac. The
Zohar interprets Sarah’s amenorrhea as a mark of her sanctity and singular
status among women. She alone, of all her sex, was free of the stain of impu-
rity.1 The Zohar explains:
Come and see, an Eve came into the world and cleaved to the serpent who
polluted her and brought about death to the world and to her husband.
A Sarah rested and came forth and did not cleave to him [the serpent]
. . . Because Abraham and Sarah did not cleave to the demonic other side,
Sarah received the privilege of supernal life for herself, her husband, and
her sons after her. As it is written, “Look to the rock whence you are hewn,
and to the hole of the pit from which you were dug out” (Isaiah 51:1).2
Concerning this [therefore it was written] “and these were the years of
Sarah’s life,” because she was privileged in all of them. And it is not written
among other women, [for example] and these were the years of Eve’s life.3
According to Zoharic mythology, the serpent, ruler of the demonic other
side (sitra ah.ra), is the source of all human impurities. Whereas Eve sins in
the Bible by eating of the Tree of Knowledge and God punishes her with
painful labor, in the Zohar, Eve sins by cleaving to the force of impurity that
then pollutes her with the menstrual flow. Sarah, by contrast, remains ritually
pure after her encounter with the serpent. Untainted by menstruation, the
mark of the serpent, she is able to achieve a level of sanctity denied Eve and all
her other descendants;4 Shekhinah, the feminine aspect of God, perpetually
rests upon her.5 Just as a male mystic achieves spiritual ecstasy through his
union with the Shekhinah, Sarah achieves spiritual ecstasy through her union
with the male aspect of God, Yesod.6 Sarah’s special spiritual status turns on
172
her purity. The Zohar justifies the absence of female mystics by contrasting
Sarah’s purity with other women’s impurity.
Jewish mysticism is based on the Israelite Temple cult. The Temple Mount
was God’s terrestrial address; the Holy of Holies, God’s private office on
earth. Access to the Temple was limited to the ritually pure; access to the
Holy of Holies was limited to the high priest on the Day of Atonement, the
holiest day of the Jewish year. After the destruction of the physical Temple,
Jews who yearned for immediate access to the divine expressed their spiritual
quest in Temple cult symbolism. Hekhalot mystics imagined a celestial Tem-
ple. German Pietists identified the four-wheeled chariot of Ezekiel with the
tetragrammaton; medieval kabbalists imagined the sefirotic realm as the Holy
Hekhal. Access to the celestial Temple, like access to the Jerusalem Temple,
was limited to the ritually pure. Hekhalot literature prescribed elaborate pu-
rity rituals for aspiring male adepts and described the spiritual and moral
dangers facing the unworthy. The traditions of the contemporaneous Beraita
d’Niddah (BdN), also addressed to men, focused on the dangers of menstrual
impurity for sacred endeavors. These traditions represent two sides of the
same coin with respect to purity and the divine. Italian Jews of Palestinian ori-
gin transmitted Hekhalot and BdN traditions to Northern Europe, where
they become an essential part of the mystical practice and esoteric theology
of the German Pietists.
The significance of menstrual impurity intensified when these Ashkenazic
ideas filtered into medieval Kabbalah, but the focus on menstruation that
emerged in Kabbalah was different in kind from the constraints in earlier reli-
gious circles, in part because it was not merely a set of laws or customs. It was
part of a larger cosmic and theological understanding of the universe born of
the Temple cult. Kabbalists, like latter-day high priests had to avoid menstrual
impurity to enter a sefirotic realm conceived of as a celestial Holy of Holies.
Zoharic myth reinforced the long-established tradition that menstrual im-
purity was antinomic to the sacred. For theosophical Kabbalists, everything
in the human realm — including menstruation — had its origins in the divine.
Women menstruated because the Shekhinah menstruates, and both flows
were stimulated by excess Judgment or the sitra ah.ra. Menstruants, already
viewed as inimical to the divine, became particularly nefarious when they
were understood as reflecting the Shekhinah herself, empowered by the sitra
ah.ra. Just as the menstruating woman was separated from her husband, the
Conclusion · 173
Shekhinah had to be separated from the other divine attributes. Any contact
between the pure and impure could infect the Godhead with the forces of the
demonic realm. This symbolic understanding of the divine menstruant had a
profound impact on the image and spiritual opportunities of medieval Jewish
women and continues to influence folk custom today.
By contrast, ritual purity was not essential to spiritual success in either
Islam or Christianity in the medieval period. Menstrual laws were a quotidian
aspect of Islamic ritual, and bodily impurities did not carry the same taboos
as found in Judaism and Christianity. Analysis of Islamic scriptural, legal, and
mystical sources, as well as contemporary Sufi practice, indicates that purity
of heart, rather than physical purity, was the criterion for divine pursuits and
was considered equally accessible to both men and women. Similarly, while
menstrual laws remained entrenched in Christianity, the relaxation of the
laws codified by Gratian in his Decretum coincided with the flowering of
Christian female mysticism in the Latin West. Virginity — real or reclaimed,
male or female — became the sole prerequisite to the Christian divine.
In Jewish law, the antinomy between menstruation and the sacred re-
mained embedded. Jacob Landau, one of the first Italian Ashkenazi scholars
to include the Zohar in his legal decisions in his Sefer ha-Agur (1491) men-
tioned that women in his community did not look at a Torah scroll when it
was raised and shown to the congregation.”7 In his gloss on the Shulh. an
Arukh, the Ashkenazi rabbi Moses Isserles (d. 1572) noted that women in
Ashkenaz generally refrained from entering synagogues or touching holy
books. Moses Sofer (H.atam Sofer, 1762–1839) decreed that menstruants nei-
ther enter the synagogue nor pray.8 His student Rabbi Aqiva Schlesinger
wrote that a woman with a blood flow should not come to the Western Wall
because people pray there, and thus it is like a synagogue.9 Israel Meir Kagan
(H.afets H.ayim, 1838–1933) prohibited menstruants from looking at a Torah
scroll when it was raised and from entering cemeteries.10 The Lubavitch Book
of Customs forbid all women from lighting Hanukah candles: as menstruating
women cannot make the blessing over the candles, all women should refrain
from blessing to ensure modesty.11
It is this antinomy between menstruants and the sacred that undergirds a
practice commonly followed by Jewish women who immerse themselves in
ritual baths. Rabbis generally advocate reciting blessings before performing
a commandment. However, in striking contrast to most other benedictions,
menstruants customarily recite the blessing of ritual immersion after the first
174 · Conclusion
of their three immersions to ensure that they pray in a purified state.12 Some
Jewish women will not touch a Torah, believing that any past or present expe-
rience of menstrual impurity bars them from contact with the sacred scroll.
Other Jews believe that only menstruants must refrain from touching a Torah
and attending prayer services.13
These modern practices are not based in Jewish law; they are rather refor-
mulations of Temple cult–based spiritual practices that barred women access
to the holy. Nor have these concepts vanished from the mystical landscape.14
Indeed, the influence of the Zohar on menstruants may become even more
pronounced among religious Jewish communities in the future. Though the
Zohar was not intended as a halakhic work, in recent years several Hebrew
books have appeared that claim to derive laws from it.15 Yisaskhar of Kre-
monits’s Yesh Skhar, more commonly known as Shulh.an Arukh ha-Zohar
(1569) was the first kabbalistic book to present itself as a halakhic work.16 This
sixteenth-century text was first reprinted in 1984 and by 1993 was in its third
printing. Citing the Zohar, the Yesh Skhar warns that flouting menstrual laws
is tantamount to transgressing the Ten Commandments and will incur the
early death of children.17 Women must cut their hair and nails prior to ritual
immersion because the spirit of impurity inheres in new growth.18
In 1988, Moses Hayim Teiburg published Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh (The
Book of the Zohar Revealed).19 Teiburg derives the Zohar’s halakhic per-
spective on the portions of the Bible to teach proper practice to the unen-
lightened. He warns his readers not to approach menstruants because twenty-
four types of impurity possess them.20 Husbands must separate from their
menstruating wives lest they combine that which God separated.21 Sexual
relations with menstruants will, he writes, drive the Shekhinah away from the
world.22
In 2001, Abraham Tseinart published the most comprehensive modern ef-
fort to promulgate the Zoharic corpus and make it more accessible.23 Shulh.an
Arukh ha-Zohar (SAZ) is a thirty-volume work dedicated to teaching “the
laws, customs, strictures, embellishments, and morals that can be gleaned
from the teachings of Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai in the Zohar.”24 Though this
convention is not new, SAZ differs from the earlier examples in its breadth
and scale. The thirty volumes were designed for ease of use and render the
Zohar’s esoteric Aramaic traditions into simple Hebrew. Its scope and its em-
phasis on popularization ensures that it remains important to Jewish women
coming of age in the twenty-first century.
Conclusion · 175
Paragraph 195 of Karo’s Shulh.an Arukh Yoreh Deah codifies the laws of men-
strual separation. The SAZ rationalizes the reasons for the Shulh.an Arukh’s
restrictions on menstruants because “the spirit of impurity rests on the nid-
dah.” Thus possessed, a menstruant’s magical prowess exceeds that of a ritu-
ally pure woman. Men should guard themselves from impure women because
the spirit of impurity rests upon them. Anything that they approach or that
approaches them becomes impure. Consequently, the SAZ explains that a
woman must count an additional seven clean days after the cessation of her
flow to free herself from the clutches of the evil qelippot restraining her.25
Moreover, a woman must cut the hair and nails that grow during her flow
because their zohama attracts the sitra zohama; these dangerous parings must
be hidden lest they harm others. Whoever burns them increases H.esed in the
world (because they originate in the side of Judgment).26
The laws of niddah given in the SAZ not only protect Jewish men from an
ungodly force, but their observance facilitates mystical vision:
Israel was privileged when the Holy One, blessed be He, gave them the law
“do not approach a woman (18:19). . . . He who observes the laws of nid-
dah as he is commanded is thereby privileged to unite with the supernal
unity, and by this he is privileged to have the Shekhinah rest upon him.27
According to the SAZ, menstrual laws are a gift for men from God.
According to one Zoharic myth, the divine aspect of the Shekhinah van-
ishes when she becomes a niddah, and she then becomes possessed by an evil
handmaiden. This is the meaning of the phrase “God wanders away (n-d-d)
from the niddah (n-d-h).” The heh signifies that the Shekhinah departs, and
a demonic handmaiden takes her place. Thus niddah laws are essential for
divine access and necessary for the maintenance of cosmic harmony: men
can emulate and meet God by avoiding menstrual impurity. Women, invol-
untarily polluted by menstrual impurity, cannot access the divine without
causing cosmic disruption. This understanding rationalized women’s absence
from medieval Jewish mysticism.
176 · Conclusion
notes
introduction
1. Greenberg, “Etymology of Niddah,” 69–77; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 16–18; Mil-
grom et al., “Niddah,” in Theological Dictionary of the Old Testament, 9:232–235.
2. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 745.
3. A Bar Ilan database search of the printed (Margaliot) edition of the Zohar reveals an
overwhelming number of instances of the term niddah as compared to the Aramaic and
Hebrew terms for the nine other “fathers of impurity.”
4. On the Zohar and Jewish law (halakhah), see Katz, Halakhah ve-Kabbalah; Ta-
Shma, Ha-Nigleh she ba-Nistar; H.allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 117–146; Ta-Shma, “Acceptance
of the Zohar,” 407–418; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 173–199; Liebes, “Zohar as a Ha-
lakhic Book,” 581–605; Shuchat, “When Parallel Lines Meet,” 449–486.
5. Consider the many ordinances attributed to Yoh.annan ben Zaqqai after the destruc-
tion of the Temple. Neusner, “Studies on the Taqqanot of Yavneh,” 183–198. For a spiritual
reworking, see Heschel, The Sabbath; Green, “Zaddiq as Axis Mundi,” 329–331; Idel, As-
censions on High, 23–71; Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights.”
6. Scholem, Major Trends, 37–38. See among others, Idel, “Beloved and the Concubine,”
141–143; Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being, 46–110; Rapoport-Albert, “On Women in Hasi-
dism,” 508.
7. Baskin, “Dolce of Worms,” 42. That is not to say that there are no examples of learned
Jewish women. According to halakhah, women were merely exempted, not forbidden,
Torah study, and some distinguished themselves. The figures Beruriah and Ima Shalom
were noted for their scholarship in the Talmud, Urania of Worms led prayer services for
women, Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh.aqi’s (Rashi’s) daughters were purportedly learned, and the
leaders of the German Pietists encouraged women to study Torah. Yet female Pietists
could acquire only the exoteric Torah knowledge that would enable them to practice Ju-
daism more efficiently; stringent purity laws barred them from esoteric lore. The Pietist
Eleazar of Worms, who lauded the Torah knowledge of his wife and daughter (Shirat ha-
Roqeah., 226–232), not only adopted the most strict interpretation of menstrual purity
laws known at that time but also instituted additional restrictions governing mystics’ con-
tact with menstruants. See, among others, BT Berakhot 20b; BT Qiddushin 29a. Sefer
ha-H.inukh, 532 par. 418; Judah the Pietist, Sefer H.asidim, ed. Margaliot, 211 par. 835 and par.
1501. Petah.ia of Regensburg, Seevuv Rav Petah.ia Mi-Regensburg, 9; Maimonides, Mishneh
Torah, Hilkhot Talmud Torah, 1:13; Maimonides, Teshuvat ha-Ramban, ed. Blau, 34. On
Jewish women’s education in the late-antique world, see Ilan, “Quest for the Historical
Beruriah, Rachel, and Ima Shalom,” 1–17; Goodblatt, “Beruriah Traditions,” 68–85; Boya-
rin, Carnal Israel, 183–196; Swidler, Women in Judaism, 97–105. In the Middle Ages, see
Abrahams, Jewish Life in the Middle Ages, 26; Agus, The Heroic Age of Franco-German Jewry,
284–309; Cohen, “Women and the Study of Talmud,” 28–37; Grossman, Pious and Rebel-
lious, 154–174; Goitein, A Mediterranean Society, 2:171–211; Harvey, “Obligation of Talmud
177
on Women according to Maimonides,” 122–130; Marcus, “Mothers, Martyrs, and Money-
lenders,” 41–42; Nirenberg, “A Female Rabbi in Fourteenth Century Zaragoza?” 179–183.
8. Hood and Hall, “Gender Differences in the Description of Erotic and Mystical Ex-
periences,” 195–207; Jacobs, “Religious Experience among Women and Men,” 261–279;
Sjørup, “Are Women’s Religious Experiences Mystical Experiences,” 15–32.
9. Foucault, Power/Knowledge; Jantzen, Power, Gender, and Christian Mysticism, 13.
10. Ibid., 223–241. See also, Brown, “Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” 427–
443; Castelli, “Virginity and Its Meaning for Women’s Sexuality in Early Christianity,”
61–88.
11. Kraemer, “Her Share of the Blessing,” 108–109; Kraemer, When Aseneth Met Joseph,
135; Lesses, “Exe(o)rcising Power,” 343–375. The virulent comments against sorceresses in
the Talmud may be seen as part of a rabbinic polemic against successful competition.
12. Rapoport-Albert, “On the Position of Women in Sabbateanism,” 143–327. Professor
Rapoport-Albert's Women and the Messianic Heresy of Sabbatai Zev (Littman, 2011) ap-
peared in print too late for me to cite it in my notes and bibliography, but I would like
readers to be aware of her excellent new study. See also Chajes, Between Worlds, 97–118.
13. Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology, 199–218; Deutsch, The Maiden of Ludmir.
14. Vital, Sefer H.ezyonot, 6–7, 10; Chajes, Between Worlds, 97–118; Chajes, “Spirit Posses-
sion in Sixteenth Century Safed,” 124–158; Faierstein, “Maggidim, Spirits, and Women in
Rabbi Hayyim Vital’s Book of Visions,” 186–214. The notion that women could become
possessed by external forces may be an outgrowth of the Zoharic understanding of the
menstruant as possessed. Note that the women described by Vital bear striking resem-
blance to female demoniacs in thirteenth-century Europe. “Speaking ‘in persona diaboli,’
they were viewed as sources of supernatural authority, treated with circumspect awe by
priests, and sometimes even allowed to preach” (733). Newman contends that they played
an essential part in the thirteenth-century attempt to relive the Gospel as a drama (“Pos-
sessed by the Spirit,” 733–734; compare Voaden, God’s Words, Women’s Voices, 41–72). This
desire to recreate the drama of earlier spiritual experiences was common to sixteenth-
century Safed as well.
15. See Weissler, “For Women and for Men Who Are Like Women,” 7–24; “Traditional
Piety of Ashkenazic Women,” 245–275; “Women as High Priest,” 9–26; “Women in Para-
dise,” 43–46, 117–120; Voices of the Matriarchs.
16. Rapoport-Albert, “On Women in Hasidism,” 508; Deutsch, The Maiden of Ludmir,
20–23; Polen, “Miriam’s Dance,” Modern Judaism 12 (1992):17–18, 26.
17. Rapoport-Albert, “Maid of Ludmir,” 508. On the possibilities for women’s spiritual-
ity in the modern Hasidic movement, see Polen, “Miriam’s Dance,” 1–21; Polen, “Coming
of Age in Kozienice,” 123–140.
18. Plato, Parmenides. See parallel in the Gnostic Zostrianos 44:5–21.
19. There are expressions of dualism in the Apocrypha and the Pseudepigrapha, but
these are not as “radical” as those of the Greeks. See Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects of Ancient
Judaism,” 262, 267–269; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 31–60.
20. Plato, Theaetetus, 97c.
21. Lev. 11:44–45; 19:2; 20:7, 26.
178 · Notes to Pages 2–4

22. Sifra de-vei Rav, ed. Weiss, 57b. Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology, 205; Leven-
son, “Jerusalem Temple,” 36.
23. According to the ninth-century Midrash Tanh.uma, Israelite women did not men-
struate while traveling through the desert because the Shekhinah rested upon the camp.
See Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27.
24. Eliade, The Sacred and the Profane, 20; Branham, “Sacred Space,” 19; Bokser, “Ap-
proaching Sacred Space,” 281.
25. Smith, Map Is Not Territory, 189.
26. Bokser, “Approaching Sacred Space,” 279–299.
27. Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–58.
28. Delaney, The Curse, 1.
30. Biale, Blood and Belief, 9–43.
31. Buckley and Gottlieb, Blood Magic, 38–39; Burton, “Some Nuer Notions of Purity
and Danger,” 530; Delaney, “Mortal Flow,” in Blood Magic, 75–80; Levy-Bruhl, Primitives
and the Supernatural, 390–396; Meigs, “A Papuan Perspective on Pollution,” 313. In Jewish
practice in particular, see Feldman, Biblical and Post-Biblical Defilement and Mourning, 35–
37; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 28–29; Eilberg Schwartz, The Savage in Judaism, 182–186.
32. Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 46, 941.
33. Sacrificial blood and the blood of circumcision, by contrast, are holy and have sal-
vific qualities. Cohen, Why Aren’t Jewish Women Circumcised? 16–17, 31–32.
35. Lev. 15:1–30; Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 902–903.
36. Lev. 15:19–30. The Bible does not require immersion for niddot and zavot. After the
destruction of the Temple, a zavah could no longer offer a sacrifice, and ritual immersion
became her only means of purification. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 277.
37. M Zavim, 1; T Zavim, 1.
38. Note that while Leviticus does not stipulate ritual immersion for menstruants, the
Mishnah Miqvaot 8:1 and 5 does. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 277; Hauptman,
Rereading the Rabbis, 149; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176.
39. PT Berakhot 5:1 (8d), trans. Secunda, “Ki Derekh Nashim Li ,” 170. Secunda con-
vincingly argues that this tradition informed the following statement in the Babylonian
Talmud (162–176).
40. BT Berakhot 31a; BT Niddah 66a; BT Megillah 28b. Cohen, “Menstruants and the
Sacred,” 277–278; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176. For the women’s motiva-
tion in taking on this stricture, see Biale, Women and Jewish Law, 152–153; Fonrobert, Men-
strual Purity, 183; Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate Niddah,” 176.
41. There is no historical record documenting the acceptance of Rabbi Zeira’s stricture.
However, we do know that by the early Geonic period, this stricture became the standard
interpretation. Thanks to Devorah Zlochower for this clarification.
42. BT Ketuvot 61b. M Niddah is the only section of the Mishnaic order of purities to
have its own Gemara. This need not be seen as evidence of rabbinic misogyny. Fonrobert
suggests that Tractate Niddah represents a rabbinic attempt to develop a discourse on the
Notes to Pages 5–8 · 179

female body that coincides with the contemporaneous gynecological studies of Rufus,
Soranus, and Galen. References to women’s limitations during the menstrual flow appear
only in other talmudic tractates (Menstrual Purity, 41–42).
43. Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 2:5. See also BT Sanhedrin 43a.
44. See also Isaac ben Moses of Vienna, Or Zarua, 4:48b.
45. Secunda argues that the seven clean days were originally instituted in Babylonian as a
polemical response to Zoroastrian menstrual laws (“Ki Derekh Nahsim Li,” especially 216).
46. Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 279, quoting Ha-H.iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah.
u-venei Erets Yisrael, 79 par. 11; compare Lewin, Otsar H.iluf Minhagim, 28–34.
47. Shaye Cohen refers to this as “cultic nostalgia.” Palestinian Jews were generally stricter
in their practice than Babylonian Jews. Revel, “Differences between the Jews of Babylonia
and the Land of Israel,” 3–5; Ta-Shma, “On Some Franco-German Niddah Practices,” 163–170.
48. Lev. 15:1–30.
50. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107; Baskin, “Women and Ritual Immersion,” 132. The
rabbis differ as to the definition of the term baal qeri. It may refer to man who has ejacu-
lated in intercourse (PT Yoma 8:1:44d), a man with gonorrhea (M Berakhot 3:6), a man
who has had a nocturnal emission, or an onanite. For the purposes of this general over-
view, I follow the example of Shaye Cohen and use the term ejaculant.
51. While Tosefta Berakhot 2:13 allows menstruants to read the Torah, the version of
the argument in the Babylonian Talmud, which has been tampered with, extends this
privilege only to men who have had sexual relations with niddot. See BT Berakhot 22a;
Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 295 n34; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 180–181.
52. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107. The specific prohibition that baalei qeri not study
Torah was known as taqqanat Ezra, the enactment of Ezra. See BT Baba Qamma 82a;
Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 273–299; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 17–37.
53. BT Berakhot 22a; PT Berakhot 3:3:6c; Tosefta Berakhot 2:3. Cohen, “Menstruants
and the Sacred,” 284. Scholars applied a double standard to the observance of the laws of
qeri. For example, when Rabbi Judah had a seminal emission, he immersed himself in a
river before teaching his students, even though he did not require immersion for others.
See BT Berakhot 22a; Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects,” 275; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 51.
54. BT Berakhot 21b–22a; Ha-H.iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah. u-venei Erets Yisrael, 108–
111; Lewin, Otsar H.iluf Minhagim, 23–25; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 17–37. Revel,
“Differences between the Jews of Babylonia and Palestine,” 12–13.
55. Several Geonim and many other Jewish men under Muslim rule would immerse
themselves after ejaculation. Their practice was likely more influenced by Islam than by
Palestinian custom. Most Germanic Jews, by contrast, ignored the custom until it was re-
introduced by the German Pietists. Lewin, Otsar ha-Geonim, 4:43, 54–56; Maimonides,
Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Qeriyat Shema, 4:8; Hilkhot Tefillah, 1:9; 4:4; H.avatselet, “De-
velopment of One Custom under the Influence of Time and Place,” 531–537; Cohen,
“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 285.
56. See Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 119–123, 134–135. Swartz, “Ritual and Pu-
rity,” 153; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162. See also chapter 2.

57. Zohar 1:54b–55a, 167b; Tishby, The Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1366–1367; Biale, Eros
and the Jews, 57. On the association between baal qeri and death in Kabbalah, see Bah.ya ben
Asher on Lev. 24:3; Joseph Hamadan, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, #55 in Gottlieb, Ha-Qabbalah
be-Kitvei Rabbenu Bah.ya ben Asher, 260.
58. Eilberg-Schwartz, The Savage in Judaism, 186–191; Hoffman, Covenant of Blood, 151–
154.
59. Satlow, “ ‘Try to Be a Man,’ ” 40.
60. PT Berakhot 3:3,4 6c; BT Berakhot 21b; BT Niddah 31b; PT Ketuvot 5:8 29d; BT
Ketuvot 62b; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 50–51; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283.
Compare the Beraita of Rabbi Pinh.as ben Yair in BT Avodah Zarah 20b and my interpre-
tation in chapter 1.
61. Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 44–45; compare Sifra Metsora, 1:75a and 4:78a; Mish-
nah Niddah 5:1, cited in Fonrobert, 48, 53.
62. See chapter 7.
63. Zohar 3:79a.
one. From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple

1. For an early dating, see Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 12–13; Scholem, Major Trends, 46–47.
For a survey of the scholarship, see Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 217–219;
Schäfer, “Research on Hekhalot Literature,” 229–235.
2. Abrams, “Maaseh Merkabah as a Literary Work,” 329–345; Herrman, “Re-Written Mys-
tical Texts,” 97–116; Kuyt, “Traces of a Mutual Influence,” 62–86; Kuyt, The H.asidei Ashkenaz
and Their Mystical Sources, 462–471.
3. See Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God, 2; Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly
Shrines,” 226–230; Elior, The Three Temples.
4. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 217–267; Elior, The Three Temples;
Gruenwald, “The Impact of Priestly Traditions,” 65–120; Schiffman, “Merkavah Speculation at
Qumran,” 17.
5. Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–37.
6. Dan, Three Types of Ancient Jewish Mysticism.
7. Scholem, Major Trends, 40–79; Schäfer, “The Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysti-
cism,” 277–295.
8. Wolfson notes that some of the Sar Torah texts presuppose an ecstatic experience of il-
lumination as ascent (Speculum, 116–117).
9. Lesses, Ritual Practices, 279–366; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 75–91; Schiffman
and Swartz, Hebrew and Aramaic Incantation Texts; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 33–52. Compare
Dan, “The Mystical Descenders to the Chariot,” 180–181, 194.
10. Schäfer, “The Aim and Purpose of Jewish Mysticism,” 282; Schäfer, Hidden and Manifest
God; Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot, 376–387; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 63–116; Wolfson, Specu-
lum, 74–81; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 53–152.
11. There is some evidence that the rabbis also believed that cultic purity laws remained in
effect in the heavens. See Numbers Rabbah 19:7.

12. BT Berakhot 21a–21b.
13. Biale, Eros and the Jews, 37–53; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 47–57, 134–166; Fraade, “Ascetical
Aspects of Ancient Judaism,” 253–288.
14. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrines,” 216–267.
15. See, among others, Synopse #3, #9, #79, #177, #178, #299, #424, #884.
16. Synopse #683; see also Synopse #337, #623. Though moral and physical purity are prereq-
uisite, they are not equated in Hekhalot literature as they are in Qumran and in late antique
midrashim (Klawans, Impurity and Sin, 95). To adjure an angel, one must approach God not
only in (spiritual) purity but also after (physical) “immersion” (Synopse #199). This distinction
is important. In Qumran literature the equation of moral and physical purity makes physical
impurity a mark of evil, facilitating the development of a spirit of impurity; Hekhalot litera-
ture does not demonize impurity. This absence of a demonic aspect to impurity distin-
guishes Hekhalot literature from later Jewish mysticism as well.
17. BT Yoma 21b; BT Baba Batra 12a.
18. BT Sanhedrin 11a; Cohen, From the Maccabees to the Mishnah, 199–201; Urbach,
“When Did Prophecy Cease,” 1–11; Greenspahn, “Why Prophecy Ceased,” 37–49; Sommer,
“Did Prophecy Cease?” 31–47.
19. Idel, Ascensions on High, especially 24–25.
20. Numbers 11:16–18, 25–26; I Samuel 10:5–8. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly
Shrine,” 222–223; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 119–160; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,’ ”
135–167.
21. Synopse #513.
22. Synopse #12, #27, # 378, #971.
23. Synopse #4–6, #24, #29. Earthly visitors to heaven are not alone in their need for
purity. Ministering angels contract impurity through their close contact with man during
their daily descents into our world. They are sullied by the odor emitted by human beings,
who are born of women and may contract impurity through emissions and dirt. When
they return to heaven for the angelic liturgy, the ministering angels immerse themselves
seven times in rivers of fire. After immersion, they check themselves for any remaining
traces of impurity. They will participate in the heavenly liturgy only when certain of their
sanctity. See Synopse #180, #181, #265, #531, #810, #790, #791. The ministering angels’ seven-
fold immersion may be more representative of the seven Hekhalot than of any contem-
porary rabbinic practice. Moreover, when sacrifices could no longer be offered at the
Temple, immersion became the final act in the purification process. Any required “check-
ing” would have to be completed before immersion. The ministering angels, however,
check themselves after immersion. Ablution in the rivers of fire is their sole means of
achieving purity — there is no waiting period. They must therefore check themselves after
immersion to be certain that the process has worked.
24. For example, Synopse #627; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 79–80.
25. Sefer ha-Razim, ed. Margaliot. For Margaliot’s sources, see Lesses, Ritual Practices,
422–424; Morgan, trans., Sepher ha-Razim, 1–6; Schiffman and Swartz, Hebrew and Ara-
maic Incantation Texts, 19. On purity prerequisites in magical texts, see, T.-S. K1.2 1a 15–16
in Schäfer and Shaked, Magische Texte aus der Kairoer Geniza, 48. Purity for exorcisms and

necromancy was also an essential part of the Western medieval magical tradition. Kieck-
hefer, Magic in the Middle Ages, 168.
26. Note that the text does not equate baal qeri and seminal emission. Sefer Razim,
2:6–10, 81; compare 5:34–37, 103; 6:27, 105.
27. BT Avodah Zarah 20b, translated from MS Munich 95 in Fraade, “Ascetical Aspects
of Ancient Judaism,” 270. See parallel versions in M Sotah 9:15; PT Sheqalim 3:3; 1:6, 3c, M
Sheqalim 4:6. Lieberman, Ha-Yerushalmi ki-fshuto, 1:35–36. Liss, introduction to The Baby-
lonian Talmud: Tractate Sotah, 2:368. Note that purity is the prerequisite for holiness in
eleven of the twenty-three manuscripts and printed variants catalogued by Liss. In five
versions, piety (h.asidut) follows holiness (qedushah).
28. Deut. 23:10–15; See also 1 Sam. 20:26.
29. Rashi explains that the term “purity” refers specifically to purity from semen. Rashi
on BT Avodah Zarah 20b, s.v. ve-nishmarta mi-kol davar ra.
30. Sexual abstinence is omitted in the printed edition of the text; cleanliness leads
directly to purity.
31. One of the most interesting descriptions of these degrees of holiness can be found
in Synopse #558, where different levels of holiness are required for entry into different
levels of heaven. The purity requirements of angels similarly depend on their station in
heaven. The H.ayyot ha-Qodesh, the Offanim, and the Cherubim sanctify and purify them-
selves to a greater degree than do the ministering angels because they stand at a higher
level of the heavens near the supernal merkavah (Synopse #795, #535 #518).
32. Note that according to one opinion in the Talmud (BT Berakhot 22a), an ejaculant
may study Talmud but cannot mention divine names.
33. BT Berakhot 21a–22b; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283.
34. Synopse #424.
35. Synopse #436, #489; compare #684.
36. Synopse #424.
37. Synopse #623; compare #663.
38. M Yoma 1:1. Thanks to Charlotte Fonrobert for this reference.
39. Synopse #303; compare Synopse #565.
40. Synopse #299.
41. BT Berakhot 21b.
42. The absolute requirement to wait five days before counting the seven clean days
is propounded by in the Terumat ha-Deshen. The author of that text justifies his stricture
by invoking the purity requirements of seminal emission. I am indebted to Devorah Zlo-
chower for this reference.
43. Compare Synopse #663, where the aspiring mystic is told to immerse himself in a river
three times. This instruction reflects the practice of menstruants who must immerse them-
selves in a ritual bath three times. Ejaculants only needed to immerse themselves once.
44. Because the rabbis never explicitly defined the terms of the metaphor, the ana-
tomical referents are a subject of scholarly debate. For a detailed analysis of these ana-
tomical referents, see Barkai, Les infortunes de Dinah, 40. Meacham, “Mishnah Tractate
Niddah,” 224–231.

45. M Niddah 2:5.
46. The alternative of the upper chamber does not fit this explanation neatly because
blood from the upper chamber is considered pure (PT Niddah 2:4, 50a). But Hekhalot
mystics were extremely vigilant about purity laws (e.g., the story of Neh. unyah ben Haqa-
nah, later in the chapter), and it is likely that they considered any bloody issue from the
female impure. Note that the Geronese kabbalist Ezra of Gerona also believed blood from
the upper chamber to be impure. See chapter 7.
47. Van Gennep, Rites of Passage; Bynum, “Women’s Stories, Women’s Symbols,” 35;
Idel, Ascensions on High, 23–37.
48. Synopse #424.
49. Synopse #314; Schäfer, Magische Texte, 165.
50. There is, however, one reference, ostensibly to women in general, which may
intend menstruants in particular. Several rituals warn mystics against speaking with their
wives or with women at large. Synopse #498, #623, #507. While speaking with women
could certainly result in sexual arousal (BT Nedarim 20a; Massekhet Derekh Erets Rab-
bah 1; BT Eruvin 63b), the warning clearly derives from M Avot 1:5, which warns men not
to speak much with womankind. Any man who did not heed this exhortation would cause
bad things to befall him, would be no longer be fit for the study of Torah, and would ulti-
mately inherit hell. Several manuscript editions of the Mishnah identify this generic
woman as a menstruant. Katsh, ed. Ginzei Mishnah, 101; MS Kaufman A50, f. 188b; Faksi-
mile Ausgabe des Mischnah Codex Kaufman A-50, ed. Beer, 2:337. MS Parma de Rossi 138,
fol. 113a; Mishnah Codex Parma, 226. According to this reading, men put good fortune,
heaven, and Torah knowledge at risk by speaking with menstruants. This tradition was
known throughout the Middle Ages and is explicitly mentioned by Rashi, Jonah Gerondi,
and Menah.em Meiri. Schechter, introduction to Avot d’Rabbi Natan, xvii–xx. Compare
Menah.em Meiri, Perush ha-Mishnah l-Me iri 5:188; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, Hilkhot
Niddah, 2:18. For a different understanding, see Horowitz, Pith.ei Niddah, 25–26.
51. On food restrictions, see Lesses, Ritual Practices, 144–155; Swartz, “Like the Minis-
tering Angels,” 148–153; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162–163.
52. Synopse #648, #684.
53. No need for “pure food” is mentioned in the Bible. Priests were expected to eat
while ritually pure, but no specific requirements for handling their food are described.
Sanders, Jewish Law from Jesus to the Mishnah, 136.
54. Synopse #489, #314, #19; Schäfer, Genizah-Fragmente, 165.
55. Scholars have noted the affinities between the Dead Sea Sect and Hekhalot litera-
ture, and the purity concerns of the Dead Sea Sect may have influenced the food concerns
of Hekhalot mystics. Those who did not belong to the sect were considered impure and
were denied access to the food supply. See Baumgarten, “Sacrifice and Worship among
the Jewish Sectaries,” 46; Schiffman, Sectarian Law in the Dead Sea Scrolls, 160–164; Lesses,
Ritual Practices, 142–144. On the affinities between Qumran and Hekhalot literature, see
Elior, The Three Temples.
56. Mishnah Niddah 2: 6–7; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 105–109. On rabbis adopting
priestly roles, see Fraade, From Tradition to Commentary, 83–86.

57. Synopse #288.
58. Synopse #83.
59. Synopse #86; Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God, 40–42. Note that Rabbi Aqiva
is also able to identify by sight a child who was both a mamzer and conceived during nid-
dah. See Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 16:146–148; Kallah Rabbati 2:2, 191–193; see also
Zohar 3:226a (RM).
60. Synopse #224–#228.
61. Only Schiffman, in “The Recall of Neh.unya ben ha-Qanah,” addresses the two im-
purity requirements for the woman in this story (272–275). Lieberman only discusses the
problem of fixed periods, and Swartz only mentions the invalid immersion. See Lieber-
man, “The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 242; Swartz, “Like the Ministering Angels,” 163.
62. See Schiffman, “The Recall of Neh.unya ben Ha-Qanah,” 274. Compare Lieberman,
“The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,’ ” 163.
63. Against this view, see Schlüter, “Die Erzählung,” 98.
64. BT Niddah 16a.
65. Lieberman identifies the dissenter as Rabbi Eliezer, the supreme authority on
blood purity (“The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n73). It is also possible that the dissenter
was the Rava, who was able to differentiate between sixty different types of blood by smell
alone and enjoyed an “international reputation” as an expert on bloods (Fonrobert, Men-
strual Purity, 116–117).
66. Lieberman, “The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 244. See also the sources that he cites
in note 78. For a critique of this view, see Schlüter, “Die Erzählung,” 98–99.
67. Since the text makes no mention of another piece of cloth, I assume there is only
one. Schlüter believes there are two (“Die Erzählung,” 109); compare Lieberman, “The
Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n74.
68. This step may have been a means to purify and deodorize the cloth (Lieberman,
“The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243), or may reflect contemporary magical practices
(Schiffman, “The Recall of Neh.unya ben ha-Qanah”).
69. On this text and the BdN, see Lieberman, “The Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241–
244.
70. Scholem and Lieberman see the story as proof of the rabbinic character of Hekha-
lot literature. Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 9–13; Lieberman, “The Knowledge of Halakhah,”
241–244. Schlüter believes it represents the essentially magical character of the yordei mer-
kavah (“Die Erzälung,” 65–110). Schiffman and Swartz believe it represents the marriage
of halakhah, Hekhalot literature, and magic. See Schiffman, “The Recall of Rabbi Neh.unya
ben ha-Qanah,” 269–281; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,’ ” 135–167.
71. See the extensive discussion of magic and menstruation in chapter 7.
72. Schlüter, “Die Erzählung.” In a similar vein, Halperin, believes that Hekhalot mys-
tics were lower class rebels hoping to learn the mysteries of Torah through magic rather
than study. Halperin, The Faces of the Chariot.
73. On Hekhalot literature and late-antique magic, see Lesses, Ritual Practices, 122,
279–366; Schäfer, “Jewish Magic Literature,” 75–91; Schiffman and Swartz, Hebrew and
Aramaic Incantation Texts; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 33–52. On purity prerequisites for

magical practice, see Schäfer and Shaked, Magische Texte, 48; Sefer ha-Razim, ed. Margal-
iot, 1:34, p.69; 2:6–10, p. 81; 2:184, p. 91; 5:34–37, p.103; 6:27, p. 105; Kieckhefer, Magic in the
Middle Ages, 168.
74. Davila, Descenders to the Chariot, 245–256; Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 52; Schäfer,
“The Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysticism,” 293; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering
Angels,’ ” 164; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 217–221; Lesses, Ritual Practices, 364.
75. Rachel Elior, The Three Temples.
76. Interestingly, onions were believed to stimulate menstruation (BT Niddah 63b).
Thanks to Devorah Zlochower for this reference.
77. Synopse #436, #489 (not in N8128).
78. Ibid.
two. The Mysticism of the Beraita d’Niddah

1. We have no manuscript edition of the composition we now know as the BdN. Chaim
Horowitz published his version from a unique manuscript that was subsequently lost. The
restrictive niddah traditions are first named as a distinct text in the mid-thirteenth century
when the physician, halakhist, and kabbalist Moses Nahmanides quotes laws in the name
of a Beraita d’Massekhet Niddah. There are, however, several medieval compendia of nid-
dah laws strikingly similar to Horowitz’s text that may be abridgments or earlier versions.
Moreover, Geonic sources, Ashkenazi liturgical books (Mah.zorim), and halakhic codes
attest to the influence of its traditions in the medieval period. In an oral communication,
Shaye Cohen suggested that the BdN, like the texts of Hekhalot literature, may be a com-
pendium of older niddah traditions that were first redacted as a book by the early sages of
Ashkenaz who were heavily influenced by Palestinian traditions. Indeed, this possibility
becomes even more cogent when we consider that the manuscript version of the BdN was
bound with an early version of the Palestinian Talmud. See, for example, MS London Add
27129, fols. 130b–131a; MS Parma de Rossi 541, fols. 222b–225a. For a discussion of all the
manuscript varia, see Marienberg, Etudes sur la Beraita d’Niddah.
2. Just as M Niddah begins with a law of Shammai, the BdN begins with the words
“Shammai says.” Other traditions are attributed to Rabbi H.anina ben Dosa, Rabbi H.iyya,
Rabbi Neh.unyah ben Haqanah, and Rabbi Eleazar ben Arakh. See Schechter, “Jewish Lit-
erature in 1890,” 339.
3. BT Shabbat 31a; Midrash Tanh.uma, ed., Buber, 3:5:17, 53. Menstruants are explicitly
permitted to separate the h.allah in BT Bekhorot 27a.
4. T Berakhot 2:13.
5. On the possibility of Zoroastrian influence on rabbinic niddah laws, see discussion
in chapter 6. On the dangers of niddot in the Middle Ages, see chapter 7.
6. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281.
7. BdN 1:2, 3; compare 2:2, 10. The authors of the BdN must have derived this idea from
Leviticus, which deems spittle impure.
8. BdN 2:5, 27.
9. BdN 2:5, 17.

10. Ibid., 2:5, 18.
11. Ibid., 3:3, 26.
12. BdN 3:4, 30–32.
13. Ibid., 3:4, 30. Baalei qeri were similarly forbidden entry to synagogues (BdN 3:3,
26).
14. Ibid., 3:3, 26. Parturients were also barred from the holy (BdN 3:4, 30).
15. Saying “amen” exempts from the obligation to bless individually. Therefore, were a
menstruant to utter “amen,” she would, in essence, be blessing God and thereby blas-
pheming his name.
16. BT Berakhot 20a–b.
17. Ibid.
18. BdN 2:5, 17.
19. See parallels in BT Berakhot 24b; BT Shabbat 40a, 150a; BT Qiddushin 33a; BT
Avodah Zarah 44b; BT Zevah.im 102b.
20. Pesiqta Rabbati, ed. Friedman, 14:5.
21. BdN 2:3. This finding is reiterated in many later sources, such as Nahmanides and
Bah.ya ben Asher on Genesis 31:35; Israel al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 3:6:5; Meir ibn
Aldabi, Shevilei ha-Emunah, 3:1; Pesiqta Rabbati, ed. Friedman, 14:5.
22. This particular prohibition may have to have influenced “normative” halakhah. The
rabbis generally advocated reciting blessings before performing the commandment. In
order to ensure that women pray in a purified state; however, niddot were required to re-
cite the blessing for ritual immersion after the first of their three immersions in the ritual
bath (Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 21–22; BdN 17n99). This convention, which be-
lies the rationales of talmudic menstrual laws, is practiced by Orthodox Jewish women
today. For further discussion, see my final chapter.
23. BT Baba Qamma 82a; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107; Cohen, “Women and the
Sacred,” 273–299; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy” 17–37.
24. While the Talmud does not imbue impure persons with demonic power, it does
imbue those seeking demonic power with impure spirits. The Talmud describes magic in
terms of a dichotomy between purity and impurity. Sanctioned magic is performed by
means of the pure name of God, and unsanctioned magic is performed by means of the
names of impurity and impure spirits. The rabbis, moreover, believed in the tenets of
sympathetic magic, whereby like elements attract. Thus, to perform illicit and therefore
impure magical acts, the magician must visit a polluted area. See BT Sanhedrin 91a; BT
Niddah 17a; BT H.agigah 3b. The Talmud specifies graveyards as the site of illicit magical
practice. In fact, of the six references to spirits of impurity in the talmudic corpus, four
are associated with graveyards (BT H.agigah 3b; BT Sotah 3a (twice); BT Sanhedrin 65b
(twice); BT Niddah 17a).
25. Lev. 21:2–3; Bickerman, “Priests and Priesthood,” Encyclopedia Judaica, 13:1089.
26. Strack and Stemberger, Introduction to the Talmud and Midrash, 332.
27. Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27.
28. BdN 3:2, 25.
29. BT Berakhot 61a; BT Eruvin 18b.

30. MS London Add 27129, fol. 131a. Nahmanides uses this version of the BdN in his
commentary to Genesis 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177.
31. BdN 2:3, 14–15. Noted by Lieberman, on Metivot, ed. B. Lewin, 115–118, and more
recently by Baumgarten, “Introduction to 4Q274,” 85–86.
32. This understanding seems to have influenced the following tradition redacted in
the early Geonic Sefer ha-Miqtsoot: a high priest must not enter a home in which a niddah
resides, nor may he recite the priestly blessing when any of the women in his home men-
struates because, as Rav Yodan said, “The prayers of any priest who raises his hands [to
recite the priestly blessing] when his mother, wife, or daughter is polluted, or [any priest]
who enter the home of a menstruant are an abomination. His future generations are lost;
he has not freed his fellow Jews from their obligation.” Because just as a high priest is for-
bidden entry into a home containing a corpse, a priest is forbidden entry into a home in-
habited by a menstruating woman (Assaf, Sefer ha-Miqtsoot, 39).
33. Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN1:2 and 1:4, 6. That sexual relations
with menstruating women cause leprosy became a commonplace in rabbinic culture. See
discussion and relevant sources in chapters 7 and 9.
34. BdN 1:4, 6: compare BdN 3:4, 28.
35. Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, Parashat Korah., 6; Shoftim, 7; Midrash Yelamdenu,
Korah., 1, 12. Midrash Mishlei, ed. Buber, 25. There are two appearances of the come and
see formula in the Talmud Bavli (Qiddushin 20a; Arakhin 30b). Here too, the formula is
used to demonstrate point to sinful behavior.
36. Consider also that a menstruant may not touch the cloth that will envelope her
husband’s corpse. BdN 1:5, 7.
37. The association between menstruation and death lies at the root of the ancient
near-eastern belief in the demonic possession of menstruants. Through the agency of her
menstrual flow, the menstruant is perceived to come under the influence of a spirit of
impurity — a polluting and malignant adversary of the holy and living god; she thus
becomes a potential danger to all she encounters. The priestly writers of Leviticus, influ-
enced by a strong antipathy to Canaanite religion, had sought to censor these understand-
ings and instead pronounced ritual impurity to be a neutral state of being. Menstrual
blood contaminates, they claimed, not the menstruant. Thus in contrast to other near-
eastern cultic leaders who concentrate on exorcising spirits of impurity from the pos-
sessed, Israelite priests transferred impurity from the menstruant herself to the items that
she touched, partly in order to suppress the notion that her impurity constituted any kind
of possession (Milgrom, introduction to Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 44, 936).
38. Ibid.
39. Ibid., 46, 941.
40. Compare Lev. 15:3; Isa. 30:22; Ezek. 7:19–20; Lam. 1:8. The term niddah may refer
either to a menstruant in particular or to pollution in general. These examples suggest the
former reading. See Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 952.
41. The late-antique Targum Yonatan ben Uziel interprets the term literally as impure
spirit (ruah. masava) in a discourse on on Zech. 13:2. Although the JPS Bible translates
these last two terms as “for purging and for cleansing,” the words literally mean “h.attat, a

type of sacrifice, and for the menstruant.” The grammatically focused medieval commen-
tator Rabbi David Qimh. i (Radaq) relates the two terms and assumes the term h. attat
refers to the zavah who must bring a h.attat sacrifice and that the term niddah refers to the
menstruant who may now become purified by the living waters of the spring. When they
are purified, the “prophets and the impure spirit will vanish from the land.” According to
this reading, Second Zechariah makes a direct connection between the purification of
menstruants and zavot and the exorcism of the evil spirit from the land. See Radaq’s com-
mentary on Zech. 13:2, s.v. va-et ruah. ha-tumah.
42. Elior, The Three Temples, 24–28; Harrington, Impurity System of Qumran and the
Rabbis, 62, 67. Thanks to Rachel Elior for bringing 4Q278 to my attention.
43. DJD 35 Q274: 8–9, 101; see also comments 103; Milgrom, Anchor Bible: Leviticus,
949. For a different interpretation, see L. B. Elder, “The Woman Question and Female
Ascetics among Essenes,” Biblical Archeologist 57 (1994): 220–234.
44. The Temple Scroll, 45:10, 2:192, 47:3–6, 48:14–17, 2:386–387. All these different im-
purities are subsumed under the term “niddah-like impurity.”
45. On the comparison between the division of the Temple and the Israelite camp, see
Schiffman, “Exclusion from the Sanctuary in the Temple Scroll,” 317–318; compare Mid-
rash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27.
46. Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 75–79, 95.
47. “Sod ha-ervah u-maqor ha-niddah,” in The Thanksgiving Scroll (1QS), 9:22.
48. Manual of Discipline (1QS), 11:14–15. These literal translations from Qumran litera-
ture are my own.
49. “Ve-khol maaseihem la-niddah le-phanai,” in The Manual of Discipline (1QS), 5:19;
compare 4:10–11 (polluted menstrual deeds, darkhei niddah be-avodat tumah).
50. “Mitaev kol gilulei niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:5; compare “ki ba-niddah
hitgolalti,” in The Thanksgiving Scroll (1QH), 4:19; “Be-khol niddat tumaah,” in Pesher Hab-
bakuk (1QpHab), 8:13; “Hitgolel be-ruah. niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22.
51. The Damascus document describes non-Zadokites as impure because they engage
in sexual relations with menstruants (CD 5:7).
52. Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22. On the different meanings of the term spirit in
Qumran literature, see Flusser, “Dead Sea Scrolls and Pre-Pauline Christianity,” 56, 60;
Licht, introduction to The Thanksgiving Scroll, 3–52; Licht, “An Analysis of the Treatise on
the Two Spirits in the Manual of Discipline,” 87–100; Sekki, The Meaning of Ruah. at Qum-
ran, 1–2, 99.
53. This text establishes a connection between the ruah. tumah in Zech. 13:2 and Satan
in Zech. 3:1. Sanders, Discoveries in the Judean Desert, 4:76; compare Sekki, The Meaning of
Ruah. at Qumran, 112n60, 170.
54. “Be-khol avodat niddat tumatam,” in The Scroll of the Sons of Light against the Sons of
Darkness (1QM), 13:5.
55. “Ruah. niddah,” in Manual of Discipline (1QS), 4:22. Baumbach, Qumrân und das
Johannes-Evangelium, 14. For different interpretations, see Licht, Megillat ha-Serakhim (Rule
of the Community), 104n22; Sekki, Meaning of Ruah. at Qumran, 149, 209; Vermes, Dead
Sea Scroll-Qumran in Perspective, 78.

56. Nitzan, “Hymns from Qumran ‘le-phah.ed u-le-vahel’ Evil Ghosts,” 19–46. Note that
although Nitzan herself does not believe that these hymns were used for magical purposes
at Qumran, several other scholars do. See Naveh and Shaked, Magic Spells and Formulae,
19–20; Ta-Shma “Comments on Hymns from Qumran,” 440–442.
57. Chazon, “New Liturgical Manuscripts from Qumran,” 211. This prayer may refer to
the miscegenation of the nefilim and the daughters of men in Gen. 6.
58. Several scholars have suggested an association between Qumran and Hekhalot
literature. See among others, Davila, Descenders to the Chariot; Elior, The Three Temples;
Schiffman, “Exclusion from the Sanctuary and the City of the Sanctuary in the Temple
Scroll,” 301–320; Schiffman, “Hekhalot Mysticism and the Qumran Literature,” 121–138;
Schiffman, “Merkavah Speculation at Qumran: The 4Q Serekh Shirot Olat ha-Shabbat.”
59. See among others, Boyarin, Borderlines; Boyarin Dying for God; Fine, ed., Jews,
Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue; Fine, ed., Sacred Realms; Kalmin and
Schwartz, eds., Jewish Culture and Society under the Christian Roman Empire; Schwartz,
Imperialism and Jewish Society, 221–289, on Piyyut, see 264–274; Levine, The Galilee in Late-
Antiquity; Yahalom, “Zodaic in Early Piyyut in Eretz Yisrael,” 313–322.
60. See among others, Levine, The Ancient Synagogue; Swartz, “Sage Priest, and Poet,”
in Jews, Christians, and Polytheists in the Ancient Synagogue, 101–117.
61. See among many others, Neusner, The Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism; Neusner,
“Studies on the Taqqanot of Yavneh,” 183–198.
62. Elior, “From Earthly Temple to Heavenly Shrine,” 217–267; Elior, The Three Temples.
63. Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241–244.
64. Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 134–144; Swartz, “ ‘Like Ministering Angels,”
162–167; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 162–165, 215.
65. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 51; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,” 166; Swartz,
Scholastic Magic, 217–221. Lieberman believed that “a member of a non-halakhically ori-
ented sect” wrote the BdN. Lewin similarly asserted that the Beraita was the work of a
Palestinian ascetic sect merely informed by rabbinic practice. See Lieberman, Shqi in, 22;
Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 241; Lewin, ed., Sefer Metivot, 110. For other theo-
ries, see Aptowitzer, Meh.qarim be-Sifrut ha-Qabbalah, 166–168 (Karaite influence); Revel,
“Differences between the Jews of Babylonia and the Land of Israel,” 17; Finkelstein, “Per-
sistence of Rejected Customs in Palestine,” 184; Dinary, “Impurity Customs of the Men-
struate Woman,” 310; Maccoby, Ritual and Morality, 34.
66. Piyyutei Rabbi Yannai la-Torah u-la-Moadim, ed. Rabinowitz, 1:434 line 35, 1:436
line 54. On merkavah mysticism and piyyut, see Gruenwald, “Yannai and Hekhalot Lit-
erature,” 257–277; Swartz, Mystical Prayer in Ancient Judaism, 12–13, 163, 190–191.
67. Lloyd, Science, Folklore and Ideology, 174; Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 8:132, 10:137,
11–16:140–148; Kallah Rabbati 1:11, 181; 1:17, 185; 2:2, 191; Midrash Shemuel, ed. Buber,
2:12, 26b. On the role of modesty, see PT Horayot 3:2; Barkai, Les Infortunes de Dinah,
69–82; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 50–53.
68. On the other hand, sex with a menstruant would result in leprous offspring. If these
children escaped the threat of leprosy, they would be denied intellect (Leviticus Rabbah
16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN 1:2).

69. BdN 1:1.
70. BT Baba Metsia 84a; BT Berakhot 20a; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 212–215.
71. The history of Rabbi Ishmael does not appear in Horowitz’s version of the BdN.
However, it does appear in a discussion of restrictive niddah laws in an eleventh-century
text from the school of Rashi entitled the Liqqutei Pardes, as well as in many subsequent
halakhic texts that contain sections of the BdN. Marienberg notes that the story may
either be a later interpolation, or an old tradition that was not included in Horowitz’s
version (Marienberg, Niddah-Études sur le Beraita d’Niddah, 50). Israel Ta-Shma argues
for the antiquity of the tradition, reasoning that the story of Rabbi Ishmael negates the
halakhic sensibilities of the Rashi school and could be ignored if it were a new tradition.
That it was included strongly suggests that the tradition was ancient (“Ritual, Custom and
Reality in Franco-Germany,” 284–287).
72. Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God, 29.
73. On the extreme beauty of Rabbi Ishmael, see T Horayot 2:5–7; PT Horayot 3:4;
BT Avodah Zarah 11b; BT Gittin 58a. The angel Gabriel or simply the Sar Torah replaced
Metatron in some later accounts of the story. See also, Wolfson, Speculum, 212–213n96.
74. On the etymology of the term sandaq and for an explanation of his function, see
Hoffman, Covenant of Blood, 201–204.
75. This story appears in many versions with slight variations. The version presented
here is that of the Geonic Sefer Miqtszoot, 13–14. Compare Midrash Eser Harugei Malkhut,
ver. B in Beit ha-Midrash, ed. Jellinek, 6:20–21; Eleazar of Worms, Roqeah., 202 par. 317;
Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, Hilkhot Niddah 2:23; Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 78a;
Azariah de Fano, Sefer Gilgulei Neshamot, 8–29. Liqqutei Pardes, ed. Buber, 4a–b; Isaac ben
Moses, Or Zarua, 4b; Horowitz, Pith.ei Niddah, 14.
76. For example, the figure of Rabbi Ishmael was conflated with that of the high priest
Ishmael ben Elisha. According to Sefer Miqtsoot, Ishmael believed that he merited his posi-
tion because he washed his hands before blessing the congregation and would not perform
sacrifices with priests who lived with a menstruant. His vigilant attempt to separate himself
from all types of impurity during the divine service ensured his success (cited in the name
of Sefer Miqtsoot by Rabbi Abraham ben David in his gloss to BT Tamid; cited by Assaf,
Sefer Ha-Miqtsoot, 39). There is no legal basis for prohibiting priests from their duties when
a member of their household was menstruating. This idea is first expressed in BdN 3:2, 25.
77. See also Raanan Boustan’s discussion of Rabbi Ishmael in his From Martyr to Mys-
tic, 106–113.
78. Avot d Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. B, 41; Nahmanides, “Torat ha-Adam,” in
Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 2:268; Israel al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, Pereq ha-Din ve-
ha-Dayan, 189; Seder Eliyahu Rabbah, ed. Friedman, 28, 153; Leqah. Tov, ed. Buber, Ex.
22:22, 164. The roles of Rabbi Ishmael and Shimon are reversed in The Tractate Mourning,
ed. Zlotnick, Hebrew 8:8, 20.
79. The one exception is the version in Liqqutei Pardes, where Ishmael’s mother is
hardly mentioned. It was his father’s attention to purity laws that entitled him to such an
illustrious son (Liqqutei Pardes, cited by Horowitz, 5:46).
80. BdN 2:1, 10.

81. BdN 3:1, 22.
82. Cited in the name of Sefer Miqtsoot by Abraham ben David in his gloss to BT
Tamid. Assaf, Sefer Ha-Miqtsoot, 39.
83. Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 34.
84. BdN 2:5, 18.
85. Similarity first noted by Lieberman, “Knowledge of Halakhah,” 243n76.
86. BdN 1:7, 9.
87. For sight, see Synopse #83–86; for smell, see BT Niddah 20b; Lieberman, “Knowl-
edge of Halakhah,” 243.
88. Synopse #436, 489.
89. Synopse #288.
90. These are red, black, a color like a bright crocus, earthy water, and undiluted wine
(M Niddah 2:6).
91. Michael Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,” 151. Brahmins in India continue to
eschew onions because of their strong odor.
92. Synopse #9, #149, #181.
93. Thanks to Devorah Zlochower for this reference.
94. BT Niddah 20b; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 115–117.
95. Scholem, Major Trends, 56; Scholem, Jewish Gnosticism, 75–83; Grözinger, “Names
of God and the Celestial Powers,” 53–70; Gruenwald, Apocalyptic and Merkavah Mysti-
cism, 105–107. In German Pietism, see Wolfson, Speculum, 246–248. In Kabbalah, see Idel,
“Defining Kabbalah,” 97–122.
96. Synopse #588; See Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God, 80.
97. Synopse #489.
98. Ibid.
99. BdN 3:2, 25.
100. Wolfson, Speculum, 107; see also note 144; Grözinger, “Names of God and the
Celestial Powers,” 60–61.
101. Pisqei Niddah, MS London Add 27129, fol. 133b. This two-page introductory to the
niddah laws of Sefer ha-Pardes appears among a collection of nine sources on menstrual
laws. Pisqei Niddah ascribes many of the rationales for marital separation during men-
struation to Massekhet Niddah. As we have seen, the actual talmudic tractate does not
deal extensively with the laws of separating spouses. It is therefore likely that the author
refers to the BdN.
102. MS BM 27/29112, fol. 131b.
103. BdN 3:2, 25.
three. Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz

1. Bonfil, “Cultural and Religious Traditions of French Jewry,” 327–348; Idel, “From
Italy to Ashkenaz and Back,” 47–94; Idel, Ben, 196; Idel, “Evil Thought of the Deity,” 356–
364; Wolfson, “Theosophy of Shabbetai Donnolo,” 281–316.

2. Ah.imaats ben Paltiel, Megillat Ah.imaats; see also the English translation, The
Chronicle of Ah.imaats, trans. Salzman (hereafter The Scroll).
3. Although Ah.imaats claims simply to document his family’s history, in fact, he fills
his record with fabulous tales that give us important information about the culture of
eleventh-century southern Italian Jewry. See Bonfil, “Between the Land of Israel and
Babylonia,” 1–30; “Myth, Rhetoric, and History?” 99–135.
4. This association is also noted by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 29.
5. Ah.imaats ben Paltiel, Megillat Ah.imaats, 30; The Chronicle of Ah.imaats, trans. Salz-
man, 87–88.
6. Ibid., 12. Rabbi Shefatiah’s wife desires similar qualities for her daughter’s suitor
(ibid., 26).
7. On the possibility that this Sefer ha-Merkavah refers to a specific book, rather than
to the genre, see Idel, “From Italy to Ashkenaz and Back,” 52; Abrams, “Maaseh Mer-
kabah as a Literary Work,” 329–345.
8. One might assume that the singular form “candle” would indicate that the menstru-
ant did not light Sabbath candles since it was customary to light at least two candles, cor-
responding to the commandments to “observe” (Deut. 5:12) and “remember” (Ex. 20:8)
the Sabbath day. However, this custom is first documented in the Sefer ha-Ra avyah, a legal
compendium written by the Ashkenazi halakhist, Eliezer bar Yoel ha-Levi (d. c. 1220s).
See Ta-Shma, “Early Franco-German Custom and Ritual,” 127–130.
9. Ydit, “Candles,” in Encyclopedia Judaica, 5:117–119; Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,”
352–355.
10. Megillat Ah.imaats, 30.
11. See Synopse #341; #426; #289; #495; #500; Schäfer, “Aim and Purpose of Early Jew-
ish Mysticism,” 294.
12. Synopse #426, translated according to the MS Oxford 1531. MS New York ascribes
the exhortation to the angel Az uyah. Note that MS Munich 40 and MS Dropsie 426 read
“nizh.ar ba-sefer ha-zeh.” See also “this mishnah,” Synopse #424; “these secrets,” Synopse
#705. On the importance of references to actual texts in Hekhalot mysticism, see Schäfer,
“Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysticism,” 293–294.
13. Synopse #426.
14. BdN 3:3, 26. On the influence of the custom that niddot refrain from touching holy
books — a practice found in Ashkenaz but absent in Sepharad, see Dinary, “Profanation
of the Holy,” 32. The absence of Sephardi restrictions on touching books is striking given
the fact that ritually impure Muslims may not touch the Qurān. On the purity system in
Islam, see Katz, Body of Text; Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger”; and chapter 9.
15. These ideas run counter to Rabbi Judah ben Betayra’s assertion that the words of
Torah are not susceptible to impurity. BT Berakhot 22a. It is important to remember that
Judah ben Betayra’s statement supports the Babylonian Talmud’s abrogation of taqqanat
Ezra, not of menstrual laws.
16. Megillat Ah.imaats, 19. In BT Sukkah 53b, King David inscribed the divine name on
a shard of pottery and threw it into unruly waters. Immediately, the water subsided 16,000
cubits.

17. On exorcism in the talmudic period, see Bar-Ilan, “Exorcism by Rabbis,” 17–32.
18. Lead, like iron, was used by magicians to deter demons. Montgomery, Aramaic In-
cantation Texts, “Magic bowl 2”; Gaster, Holy and the Profane, 10; BT Yoma 69b; Idel, “Evil
Thought of the Deity,” 359n8.
19. Megillat Ah.imaats, 30. The essential difference between the two exorcism accounts
lies in the power of the expelled demons. Basil’s daughter’s demon simply sank to the bot-
tom of the sea, while the spirit of impurity in the Sefer Merkavah caused the water to recede
almost a mile.
20. Grossman, “Migration of the Qalonymus Family,” 154–186; “From Father to Son,”
123–127; Eleazar of Worms, Sodot Ha-Tefillah, trans. Marcus, Piety and Society, 67.
21. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 281; Ta-Shma “Synagogal Sanctity,” 358–
359.
22. Ta-Shma “Synagogal Sanctity,” 358–359; Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and
Sanctity,” 274–278; Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 6. Compare Dinary, “Profanation of the
Holy,” 23.
23. Mah.zor Vitry, 498: 605–606, 609; Sefer ha- Orah, 2:167–168; Sefer ha-Pardes, 3;
Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 268.
24. Because there are no other attestations of this practice in the other works of the
school of Rashi, Shaye Cohen suggests that the custom may reflect a later development
interpolated into the earlier text (“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 296n46). Israel Ta-Shma
likewise notes the anomaly within the context of the Rashi school but argues for the an-
tiquity of the tradition (“Ritual, Custom and Reality in Franco-Germany,” 284–287).
25. Sefer ha-Pardes, MS British Library Add 27129, fol. 134a; compare Isaac ben Moses,
Or Zarua, 1:360, 48d,
26. Other twelfth- and thirteenth-century Ashkenazic authors condone this practice,
whereas Babylonian Geonim condemned it. See Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 23–33;
Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 268–272; Ta Shma, “Synogogal Sanc-
tity,” 361. For Ashkenazic examples, see Eliezer ben Natan, Sefer Raavan, Hilkhot Niddah,
par. 319; Aptowitzer, Mavo le-Sefer ha-Raavyah, 1:45. For Babylonia, see the responsa of
Yehudai, Nitronai, Amram, and Tsemah. Gaon in Lewin, Otsar ha-Geonim, 4:48–69. Texts
from Rashi’s school also laud women who separate from their husbands for a full fourteen
days a month (Zimmer, Olam k-Minhago Noheg, 240–249).
27. At a certain point, as Cohen notes, this arrangement was no longer possible and
menstruants in Sephardi families resumed all of their household functions, with the ex-
ception of those stipulated in the Talmud (“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 280). For a
comparison between Ashkenazic and Sephardic niddah observances, see Dinary, “Profa-
nation of the Holy,” 23; Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, 198.
28. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 18.
29. See chapter 8. The Geonim may have been influenced by Muslim culture when
they imposed short-lived additional regulations separating husbands and their menstru-
ating wives, such as barring menstruants from food preparation and from family meals.
31. Maimonides, Guide 3:47; Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 18–19.

32. Some legists hold that menstruants may enter mosques, but not tarry within (Katz,
Body of Text, 2).
33. See also, Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 29.
34. Grossman, H.akhmei Ashkenaz ha-Rishonim, 157–160; Soloveitchik, “Religious Law
and Change,” 205–221; Ta-Shma, Minhag Ashkenaz Qadmon, 13–105; On menstrual laws
in particular, see, “Minhagei Harh. aqot ha-Niddah,” 280–288; Woolf, “Medieval Models of
Purity and Sanctity,” 269–271.
35. Oral communication with Elisheva Baumgarten. Isaac of Vienna, Or Zarua, 1:360,
48d; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, 2:18, 81. Sefer ha-Agur, par. 1.
36. Other scholars have noted Ashkenazic Jewry’s affinity to the laws of the Beraita
d’Niddah. Yedidiah Dinary, who wrote two of the most important articles on the isolation
of menstruants in the Middle Ages, does not provide an explanation for the attraction.
Jeffrey Woolf argues that the “explanation appears to be quite straightforward. Franco-
German Jewry from its inception, maintained a fierce loyalty to and veneration for the
totality of its received sacred literature and religious lore, which it inherited from its fore-
bears in Southern Italy” (“Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 270).
37. Hagahot ha-Ramah le-Shulkhan Arukh, Orekh H.ayim, 88:1; Ta-Shma, “On the
History of Polish Jewry ,” 347–369. On the influence of H.asidei Ashkenaz on the separa-
tion of menstruants from their husbands in the Eastern Rite (minhag Osterreich), see
Zimmer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg, 220–249. Haym Soloveitchik disagrees with Ta-Shma
and Zimmer’s suggestion that H.asidei Ashkenaz influenced Polish Jewish law. In refer-
ence to menstruation, however, he notes that “all evidence that we possess for the hyper-
sensitivity of H.asidei Ashkenaz to any form of pollution, whether physical or ritual, is
with regard to the sancta with their powerful taboos, not with regard to mundane sexual
relations” (Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism,” 487).
39. On Pietism as a social movement, see Marcus, “Hierarchies, Religious Boundaries
and Jewish Spirituality,” 7–26; Marcus, Piety and Society. See also Soloveitchik, “Three
Themes in Sefer Hasidim,” 311–357; “Sefer Hasidim and the Influence of H.asidei Ashke-
naz,” 455–493.
40. I borrow the term esoteric theology (torat ha-sod) from the work of Joseph Dan,
Torat ha-Sod shel H.asidut Ashkenaz.
41. Note that even Haym Soloveitchik who denied the lasting influence of H.asidei
Ashkenaz, nonetheless concedes their enduring influence on later mysticism and peni-
tential practices (Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism,” 468–469).
42. Eleazar of Worms, Sodot Ha-Tefillah, trans. by Marcus, Piety and Society, 67.
43. J. N. Epstein suggests that the student in question was Asher ben Yeh.iel. See his
Meh.qarim be-Sifrut ha-Talmud, 2:772–773.
44. Solomon ben Yeh.iel Luria, Teshuvot ha-Maharshal, #29, p.23c.
45. The need to separate menstruants from sacred texts is extended to the cases that
customarily housed the books. These book boxes were traditionally adorned with decora-
tions and biblical verses. While women were permitted to embroider the decorations,
they could not embroider the writing, lest they blaspheme the name of God (Sefer H.asidim,

ed. Margaliot, 943). Note that the practice of placing books in cases may show the influ-
ence of the contemporaneous Christian custom of Bible boxes. The desire to protect holy
texts from all impurities is also the basis of the Pietist’s prohibiting Christian contact with
Jewish texts. Pietists were forbidden to pawn books to Christians or to allow Christians to
rebind them. See Marcus, “Hierarchies, Religious Boundaries and Jewish Spirituality,” 14;
Wineberg, “Love of the Book,” 159–175.
46. Marcus, “Political Dynamics of the Medieval German-Jewish Community,” 123.
47. Ta-Shma, “On the History of Polish Jewry ,” 368–369.
48. Dan, “Book of the Divine Name,” 34–35.
49. Soloveitchik, “Piety, Pietism, and German Pietism, 485; see also, Soloveitchik, “Zim-
mer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg: A Review Essay,” 229–230.
50. Ta-Shma, “Libraries of the Sages of Ashkenaz,” 299–309.
51. On the connection between asceticism in Hekhalot literature and H.asidei Ashke-
naz, see Schäfer, “Ideal of Jewish Piety,” 9–23.
52. Baskin, “From Separation to Displacement,” 1–18; see also, Baskin, “Women and
Ritual Immersion in Medieval Ashkenaz,” 131–142; Biale, Eros and the Jews, 86–100; ben
Artzi, “Asceticism in Sefer H.asidim,” 42.
53. Baskin, “From Separation to Displacement,” 14.
54. The Pietists did not just copy Hekhalot traditions but rather interpolated the late-
antique ideas with their own (Ta-Shma, “Libraries of the Sages of Ashkenaz,” 299–309).
55. On the reciprocity of influence between Hekhalot literature and H.asidei Ashkenaz,
see Kuyt, “Traces of a Mutual Influence of the H.asidei Ashkenaz and the Hekhalot litera-
ture,” 62–86. On the mystical imaginings of the Temple among H.asidei Ashkenaz, see
Wolfson, “Sacred Space and Mental Iconography,” 593–634.
56. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 91–92, 98–99; Schäfer, “Ideal of Jewish Piety and
Its Roots in Jewish Tradition,” 9–23; Wolfson, Speculum, 241, 267–268.
57. Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 52; Schäfer, “Aim and Purpose of Early Jewish Mysti-
cism,” 293; Swartz, “ ‘Like the Ministering Angels,’ ” 164; Swartz, Scholastic Magic, 217–221.
Compare Lesses, Ritual Practices to Gain Power, 364.
58. PT Berakhot 3:3,4 6c; BT Niddah 31b; BT Berakhot 21b; Boyarin, Carnal Israel,
50–51; Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 283; Satlow, “‘Try to Be a Man,’” 40. See also
the introduction to this book.
59. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Shem, MS BM 737, f. 213a, cited by Wolfson, Speculum,
239n202.
60. Sefer H.asidim, ed. Margaliot, 59 (compare 978, 979); Abrams, “‘The Mystery of All
Mysteries,’” 70n40.
61. Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 24–26.
62. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., par. 321, 413.
63. Wolfson, “Sacred Space and Mental Iconography,” 593–634.
64. Synopse #436, #489.
65. Eleazar of Worms. Sefer ha-Kavod, MS Oxford 1566, fol. 38b. For more on the Sefer
Ha-Kavod, see Dan, Torat ha-Sod, 55–56, 58. On divine names and vision, see Idel, Kab-
balah: New Perspectives, 97–103; Idel, “Defining Kabbalah,” 97–122; Wolfson, Speculum,

182–186, 246–248, 265–267. On Sefer ha-Shem, see Dan, “Book of the Divine Name by
Eleazar of Worms,” 27–60.
66. Sefer ha-Malbush, MS British Museum Margaliot 752, fols. 92–93; MS Sasson 290,
fol. 311a. Thanks to Rebecca Lesses for providing me with copies of these sources. The
precise dating of Sefer ha-Malbush is a subject of scholarly debate. Gershom Scholem
alone mentions three different possibilities. In Major Trends, he connects it to Hekhalot
mysticism (77); in “Tradition and New Creation in the Ritual of the Kabbalists,” to the
school of Eleazar of Worms (136); and in Jewish Gnosticism, to the early post-Talmudic
period. Joseph Dan describes the Sefer ha-Malbush as an early esoteric work known to
H.asidei Ashkenaz (Torat ha-Sod, 74). Wolfson suggests that it is a Babylonian Geonic
magical text preserved by H.asidei Ashkenaz. Although the text may not have been writ-
ten by the German Pietists, it was copied by them and bears their mark (Wolfson, Specu-
lum, 242).
67. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Shem, MS Munich 81, fols. 144a–145b.
68. Marcus, “H.asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 60; “Penitential Writings of the
Hasidim of Ashkenaz,” 369–384; Piety and Society, 39–52.
69. Note that there is a tripartite structure in early continental Christian penitentials,
such as the Rheims penitential (Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 11). On the possible influ-
ence of Christian penitential literature on H.asidei Ashkenaz, see Baer, “Socio-Religious
Orientation of Sefer Hasidim,” 1–50; Fishman, “Penitential System of H.asidei Ashkenaz,”
201–229.
70. Marcus, “H.asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 75–76.
71. Marcus, Piety and Society, 42.
72. MS Bodleian Opp647, fol. 21b.
73. Eleazar of Worms, “Hilkhot Teshuvah,” in Sefer ha-Roqeah., 14.
74. Ibid.
75. Marcus, “Judah the Pietist and Eleazar of Worms,” 19, referring to Hekhalot Rabbati
13:2, Jellinek, Beit Midrash, 3:93, Synopse #199. In the excerpt, the mystic is compared to a
man who has a ladder in his home, which he ascends and descends. The requirements for
the yored merkavah are cleanliness from idol worship, forbidden sexual relations, murder,
slander, perjury, conceit, and groundless hatred and observance of all the positive and
negative commandments. Peter Schäfer suggests that the reference to all positive com-
mandments illustrates that “concern is the entire Torah.” See Schäfer, The Hidden and
Manifest God, 119–121; “Ideal of Piety of the Ashkenazi Hasidim,” 9–23.
76. I have found two exceptions: (1) Darkei Teshuvah, a penitential published at the
end of Teshuvot ha-Maharam, which requires an onanite or one with a nocturnal emission
to fast for forty days and sit in water during the winter. Note, however, that the sin de-
scribed here is “spilling seed in vain” (Shikhvat zera levatalah) not an ejaculant in inter-
course. This text defines baal qeri more restrictively than does Hekhalot literature. (2) A
penitential for sexual laws in MS Bodleian Opp647, fols. 20a–23a. The penance for baal
qeri precedes that for having sexual relations with one’s menstruating wife (catalogued by
Marcus in “H.asidei Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 64). Thanks to Daniel Abrams for pro-
viding me with a photocopy of the manuscript.

77. Pachter, “Shmirat Habrit.” Thanks to Daniel Abrams for this reference.
78. One exception may be found in a version exclusively devoted to sexual laws in MS
Bodleian Opp. 647, fols. 20a–23a. The penance for baal qeri precedes that for having
sexual relations with one’s wife menstruating wife (catalogued by Marcus in “H.asidei
Ashkenaz Private Penitentials,” 64).
79. Judah the Pietist, Sefer H.asidim, ed. Margaliot, 509.
80. Ibid., 1126. This idea may have influenced Nahmanides’ commentary to Genesis
18:19. See chapter 7 for a detailed discussion of this verse.
81. Compare ha-H.iluqim she-ben Anshei Mizrah. u-venei Erets Yisrael, ed. Margaliot,
par 11, p. 79.
82. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., par. 318.
83. Woolf suggests that the works of the schools of Rashi, written “after the Babylonian
Talmud became the exclusive arbiter of Halakhic truth, describes niddah laws with no
basis in Babylonian halakhah as custom, whereas the German Pietists appeal to an older
authority, binding before the Babylonian monopoly on halakhah” (Woolf, “Medieval
Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 271). Understanding the mystical consciousness of the
H.asidei Ashkenaz, as we do here, explains the appeal of the older tradition.
84. Ashkenazim could not completely identify the synagogue with the Temple — the
halakhic ramifications for both men and women would have been enormous. Ta-Shma
and Woolf explain that Ashkenazim identified the synagogue and Temple in terms of their
symbolism and sanctity (Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,” 351–364; Woolf, “Medieval Mod-
els of Purity and Sanctity, 263–280).
85. Ta-Shma, “Synagogal Sanctity,” 362.
86. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 282–285; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 106–
107.
87. Grossman, H.akhmei Ashkenaz ha-Rishonim, 374–386.
88. Woolf, “Medieval Models of Purity and Sanctity,” 269n27.
89. See Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., par. 318, 204–206; MS Oxford OPP. ADD.
14, fol. 209a; Schechter, “Jewish Literature in 1890,” cited at 342. An attribution of these
laws to Saadia Gaon, though false, would have been especially significant to a Pietist audi-
ence. Saadia’s philosophy profoundly influenced pietistic conceptions of the divine glory.
Proper observance of niddah laws was essential to achieving such a vision. See Dan, Torat
ha-Sod, 104–116; Scholem, Major Trends, 86; Wolfson, Speculum 126–129, 195–198.
90. Isaac of Vienna, Or Zarua, 1:360, 48d; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei Dura, 2:18, 81; Jacob
Landau, Sefer ha-Agur, par. 1. On the influence of H.asidei Ashkenaz niddah laws on the
burgeoning Polish community, see Ta-Shma, “On the History of Polish Jewry,” 355–356.
Zimmer, Olam ke-Minhago Noheg, 220–249.
91. Compare Tosefta H.agigah 2:1.
92. Idel, “Sitrei Arayot in Maimonides’ Thought,” 79–91.
93. Wolfson, Speculum, 235.
94. Ibid.
95. Scholars have suggested that certain sections of Hekhalot Rabbati may allude to
sexual activity within the divine realm. See Synopse #240–#245 and #189, in Halperin, “A

Sexual Image in Hekhalot Rabbati,” 117–132; Synopse #94, #164, #189, in Wolfson, Specu-
lum, 98–105; Schäfer, The Hidden and Manifest God, 24.
96. For a synoptic edition of all the known versions of Sod haEgoz, see Abrams, Sex-
ual Symbolism. On differing theories of the provenance, see Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 11,
52–57; Altmann, “Eleazar,” 101; Dan, “H.okhmath haEgoz: Its Origin and Development,”
77; Farber, “Tfisat ha-Merkavah be Torat ha-Sod,” especially 52, 117; Idel, Kabbalah: New
Perspectives, 193–197; Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved on the Throne,” 1–62; Wolfson,
Speculum, 188–269. All of the arguments concerning the provenance of the text do not
detract from my thesis: H.asidei Ashkenaz developed a bisexual understanding of the
Godhead and this theology contributed to their reevaluation of menstrual laws.
97. Song of Songs 6:11; Altmann, “Eleazar,” 101; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 2.
98. Ezek. 1:4–5; Arugat ha-Bosem, MS Merzbacher, fols. 73–74; MS Munich 92, fols.
10b–11a; Abrams’s synoptic edition of Sod haEgoz, in Sexual Symbolism, *4–*23.
99. Langer, “Birkat Betulim,” 54; compare MS British Museum Add 27129, fol. 131b.
100. Ibid., 57. Other authors interpret the walnut more generally, as a fertility symbol.
101. Altmann, “Eleazar,” 111–113; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, *20.
102. Altmann, “Eleazar” 106.
103. See also Abrams, Ha-Guf ha- Elohi ha-Nashi be-Qabbalah, 72.
104. BT Bekhorot 45a. Thanks to Charlotte Fonrobert for directing me to this source.
See her Menstrual Purity, 57.
105. The Commentaries to Ezekiel’s Chariot of R. Eleazar of Worms and R. Jacob ben Jacob
ha-Kohen. On the basis of this inconsistency, Abrams suggests that Eleazar did not write
the most sexually explicit version. The anonymous author “indeed knew Eleazar’s works
and read this explicit version into his text” (Sexual Symbolism, 57). Rather than slavishly
follow Eleazar, the author of the tradition recorded in the Merzbacher manuscript tried to
bridge the gap between Eleazar’s theology and that of the special cherub circle (54).
106. The h.ashmalah’s gender is also reinforced by its feminine shape — the letter kaf k.
See Sodei Razaya, 17; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 48.
107. Wolfson, “Tree That Is All,” 53n76; Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 51.
108. See Farber, “Tfisat ha-Merkavah be Torat ha-Sod,” 116. For more on the feminine
nature of the throne, see Wolfson, “Image of Jacob,” 1–62.
109. Wolfson, Speculum, 188–269; “Image of Jacob,” 29–59, 60n4. On the sexuality of
the divine name, see Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 130–131; Idel, “Sexual Metaphors
and Praxis,” 197–224. Against this view, see Abrams, Sexual Symbolism, 56.
110. Note that Abrams, who argues that Eleazar did not conceive of the egoz as a bisexual
symbol, concedes that the throne was a feminine symbol (Sexual Symbolism, 47–57).
111. Keter Shem Tov is also known as Sefer ha-Peer. The text printed by Jellinek in Ginzei
H.okhmat ha-Qabbalah, 82–92, is faulty. I consulted MS Cambridge DD.11.2; MS Jews Col-
lege, Montefiore 431; and MS HNUL, 541.
112. MS Cambridge DD 10.11.2, fol. 20b; MS Jews College, Montefiore 431, fol. 44a; MS
HNUL541, fol. 23b.
113. Anima in Latin, neshamah in Hebrew. See Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 282;
“. . . And Woman His Humanity,” 268–273.

114. Note that the purity requirements of the zavah and the niddah had been conflated
since the Talmudic period. See introduction to this volume.
115. The sexual imagery is made even more explicit by the ensuing discussion of the
excitement of the cherubim. See Idel’s discussion of the female nature of the soul and the
male supernal powers in “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 198–201.
four. Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis in Theosophical Kabbalah

1. Here I intend to offer a general overview to the emergence of Kabbalah in the twelfth
and thirteenth centuries in keeping with current scholarship. For more detailed introduc-
tion, see among others, Green, A Guide to the Zohar , 3–27; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspec-
tives; Sendor, “Emergence of Provençal Kabbalah;” Wolfson, “Jewish Mysticism: A Philo-
sophical Overview,” 389–437; compare Scholem, Origins of the Kabbalah.
2. Idel, “Maimonides and Kabbalah,” 31–81; Idel, “Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed
and the Kabbalah,” 197–226; Wolfson, “Beneath the Wings of the Great Eagle,” 209–237;
Wolfson, “Jewish Mysticism: A Philosophical Overview,” 389–437; Sendor, “Emergence
of Provençal Kabbalah”; Septimus, Hispano-Jewish Culture, 39–74, 104–115.
3. Though the Bahir was long considered the first work of Kabbalah, scholars now ques-
tion its influence. On the Book Bahir, see Abrams, Sefer ha-Bahir; Abrams, “Bahir, Sefer
Ha — ”; EJ, 2nd ed., 3:62–63; Idel, “Ha-Tefillah be-Provans,” 265–286; Pedaya, Ha-Shem ve-
ha-miqdash be-Mishnat Rav Yitshaq Sagi Nahor; compare Scholem, Origins of the Kabbalah.
4. Scholem, Ha-Qabbalah be-Geronah; Idel, “Vicissitudes of Kabbalah in Catalonia,”
25–40.
5. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 85–102; Idel, “ ‘We Have
No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 51–73; Idel, “Nahmanides: Kabbalah, Halakhah, and Spiritual
Leadership,”15–96; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 103–178.
6. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 210–218; Idel, “Kabbalah’s ‘Window of Opportuni-
ties,’” 171–208; Green, A Guide to the Zohar, 86–87.
7. Liebes, “How Was the Zohar Written,” 85–138; Meroz, “Zoharic Narratives and Their
Adaptations,” 3–63; Abrams, “Invention of the Zohar as a Book, 7–142; Huss, “K-Zohar
ha-Raqia,” 43–139.
8. Huss, “K-Zohar ha-Raqia,” 43–139.
9. I borrow these terms from Peter Schäfer’s study of Hekhalot Literature, The Hidden
and Manifest God.
10. Levenson, “Jerusalem Temple,” 32–62.
11. The kabbalistic focus on the Temple is in part a legacy of the Jewish mystical tradition
and in part a reaction to Maimonides. Maimonides had described Temple cult ritual as a
concession to the primitive needs of newly emancipated Israelites. Early kabbalists denied
these assertions and, in keeping with earlier Jewish spirituality, made the Temple a central
symbol of the sefirotic realm. (See Maimonides, Guide II:32; Brody, “Human Hands Dwell
in Heavenly Height,” 565–568; Green, Guide to the Zohar, 138–142.) Temple cult images also
figure prominently in thirteenth-century Castilian and Catalonian Hebrew-manuscript

illuminations (Kogman-Appel, “Hebrew Manuscript Painting in Late-Medieval Spain,”
246–272; Sed Rajna, “Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts from the Iberian Peninsula, 133–156).
12. Pedaya, “Divinity as Place and Time,” 60.
13. Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” 572. Brody’s unpublished dis-
sertation was an invaluable resource for this part of my study.
14. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 5b–6a.
15. Ibid., 5a–b, 20b, 69b.
16. Gottlieb, Meh.qarim be-Sifrut ha-Qabbalah, 564–565; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar,
3:867–940.
17. Jacob Ha-Kohen, Commentary to Ezekiel’s Chariot; Moses de Leon, Commentary of
the Merkavah; Gikatilla, Commentary on the Merkavah; Farber-Ginat “Concept of Merka-
vah in Thirteenth-Century Esotericism.”
18. Abrams, “Maaseh Merkabah as a Literary Work,” 343.
19. Bereshit Rabbah 47:6; 82:6; Chaze, “De l’Identification des Patriarches comme Char
Divin,” 5–75. Thanks to Moshe Idel for this reference.
20. Wolfson, “Face of Jacob Inscribed on the Moon,” 235–270.
21. Geronese text quoted by Meir ibn Gabbai, Avodat ha-Qodesh II: 6, 28a. Brody, 574,
compare 594; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 53–54, 297n117; Scholem, “Concept of
Kavvanah,” 68.
22. Brody, “Human Hands Dwell in Heavenly Heights,” 640.
23. Bahir, 9. See also Sod ha-Qorban le-Rav Azriel, MS Parma 1390. Thanks to Daniel
Abrams for this reference.
24. Cited by Brody, “Human Hands dwell in Heaven Heights,” 578; Gikatilla, Shaarei
Orah, 1:145.
25. Menah.em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d. Compare Zohar 1:190b; 3:124;
Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62.
26. Lev. 10:1–2; Zohar 3:23b (RM); compare Zohar 2:110a (RM).
27. Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fol. 276a; compare Joseph Hamadan, Sefer
Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 127–130.
28. Sefer ha-Qanah, 77a–b.
29. Zohar 2:3a–b; compare 3:75b.
30. BT Yoma 54a; BT Yebamot 63b–64a; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 128–130;
Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 32–33.
31. Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 33.
32. Ibid.
33. Zohar 1:102a; Matt, Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:128; compare Zohar 1:53a.
34. Idel explains, “In the ecstatic school, ‘radical asceticism’ was not a prerequisite for
ecstatic vision.” Rather than “suppress the body,” the initiate sought to “strengthen the
intellect” (The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia, 143–144). Idel shared in private
correspondence that in the thousands of folios of Abulafia’s work, there are no specific
ritual purification techniques or exhortations to separate from women. There is a “sugges-
tion” of asceticism in the ecstatic works of Isaac of Acre, which likely influenced later ec-
static mystical praxis. See also Fishbane, As a Light before Dawn, 248–283.

35. See Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 73–76; Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 27, 43, 142;
Wolfson, Speculum, 276–277, 279–281, 285.
36. See, among others, Zohar 1:54a, 62a, 83a, 128b, 178b; 2:162b, 173a; 3:40a, 53a–54b,
152b. The converse of this equation is also true. When the spirit of holiness rests upon a
man, the spirit of impurity cannot approach him. Zohar 2:225b; Hamadan, Sefer Taamei
ha-Mitsvot, positive commandment 31, 127–130; compare Natan the Physician, Zikhron
Tov, MS Cambridge 485, fol. 88b.
37. Joseph Angelet, Kaf Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford 1663, fol. 92a. Thanks to Boaz Huss for
providing me with a typescript of the manuscript. Compare Wolfson, Speculum, 277;
“Forms of Visionary Ascent,” 223–224. On the attribution of the Kaf Dalet Sodot to An-
gelet, see Idel, “Patterns of Redemptive Activity,” 264n46; Felix, “Peraqim be-Haguto ha-
Qabbalit shel ha-Rav Yosef Angelet”; Liebes, “How Was the Zohar Written,” 225n298.
38. Wolfson, Speculum, 333; Wolfson, “Forms of Visionary Ascent,” 213, 231–233; Idel,
Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 224; Idel, “Infinities of Torah in Kabbalah,” 144.
39. Zohar 1:129b.
40. Zohar 1:102b; Matt, Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:127.
41. Zohar 1:102a. Here the Zohar invokes a famous midrash on Gen. 18:1–10. See BT
Baba Metsia 87a; BT Yoma 28b; Genesis Rabbah, 48:14, ed. Albeck, 1:490; Rashi on Gen-
esis 18:8; Epstein, Otsar ha-Midrashim, 398; BdN 3:2, 24; Pirqei d’Rabbi Eliezer 35:1.
42. Zohar 1:102b; Matt, Zohar: Pritzker Edition, 2:128.
43. On “crossing gender boundaries” in Jewish mysticism, see the many works of Elliot
Wolfson cited in the bibliography. On the fluidity of gender in the Zohar, see Hellner-
Eshed, “A River Flows from Eden,” 169. Midrash Tanh. uma not only compares men to
menstruants, but also claims that men menstruated until Rachel declared to her father
that “the way of women was upon her” (Gen. 31:35), thereby distinguishing menstruation
as a specifically female function. See Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:16, 26–27; Yehudah
ben Yaqar, Commentary on the Prayers and Blessings, 2:43. On male menstruation in an-
cient medical theory, see Bynum, Fragmentation and Redemption, 100; on the Jewish male
flux, see Resnick, “On the Roots of the Myth of Jewish Male Menses,” 241–263; Johnson,
“Myth of Jewish Male Menses,” 273–295.
44. Zohar 3:97a.
45. Kabbalists, likely drawing from women’s practice, would pare their nails before
Sabbath immersion as well (Ginsburg, Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah, 230–231).
46. Zohar 2:60b (RM).
47. BdN 1:4, 6.
48. Ibid., 3:2, 25.
49. MS British Library Add 27/29112, fol.133b, interprets the phrase “holy to me” (Lev.
20:26) as holy “to my name.” Jonah Gerondi warned men not to say the divine name un-
less they were in a state of complete cleanliness and sanctity. See his Iggeret ha-Teshuvah.
50. Zohar 2:3a; Matt, Zohar: Pritzker Edition 2:9–10.
51. The connection between the BdN and Zohar 2:3a is noted by Margaliot in his gloss
and more recently by Ta-Shma in a list of examples illustrating the influence of Ashkenazi
halakhah on the Zohar (Ta-Shma, Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar, 33).

52. Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 207–213.
53. Zohar 1:50a; Matt, Zohar: Pritzker Edition 1:277.
54. Idel, “Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 207–213; Idel, Sex and Eros, 53–103; Langer,
Die Erotik der Kabbalah, 41–57; Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 100; Mopsik, Lettre sur la sainteté,
45–163; Scholem, Major Trends, 225–229; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 183; Tishby, The Wisdom
of the Zohar, 1355–1379; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161; Moses de
Leon, Sefer Ha-Rimon, 216.
55. Cohen, The Holy Letter, 9–59; Ginsburg, The Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah; Tishby,
Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1390–1394; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161;
Todros Abulafia, Otsar ha-Kavod, 50, 52; Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 15. The Italian kab-
balist Menah.em Recanati asserts that women can empower the Shekhinah by engaging in
licit sexual relations with their husbands (Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61b).
56. Mopsik, Lettre sur la sainteté, 45–163; Guberman, “Language of Love in Spanish
Kabbalah,” 53–95; Harris, “Marriage as Metaphysics,” 197–226. On the sanctity of sexual
relations in the Zohar, see, among others, Zohar H.adash, Bereshit, 11a–11b.
57. Mopsik, “Body of Engenderment,” 53.
58. Iggeret ha-Qodesh, in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:303.
59. See Idel, “Kabbalah of the Divine Names,” 97–122; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar,
1:292–295; Wolfson, Speculum, 235–281.
60. Wolfson, “Circumcision and the Divine Name,” 77–112; “Circumcision, Vision of
God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215.
61. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62, 63.
God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215. In Mishkan Edut, Moses de Leon derives his
penance for one who has sexual relations with a menstruant from Eleazar of Worms’ Sefer
ha-Roqeah. (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4.2, fol. 41b). Compare Eleazar of Worms,
Sefer ha-Roqeah., Hilkhot Teshuvah, 3:27. Thanks to Ivan Marcus for pointing out this
similarity.
63. Moses de Leon, Sheqel ha-Qodesh, 62.
64. Note that in a description of the ten levels of impurity that mirror those of the holy
sefirot, Yesod is described as “the donkey of purity,” a particularly potent image for one
who is scrupulous in the yoke of the law (MS BN 841, fol. 247a). On the sources of this
idea, see M Berakhot 1:1; BT Berakhot 31; compare Recanati, Commentary on the Torah,
79c–d; MS Vatican 236, fol. 73a.
65. De Leon therefore warns men to assume that their wives are niddah until they are
certain of their purity status (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 2:2:1, fol. 40b).
66. Zohar 3:49b.
67. Natan ben Avigdor, Beurim al Derekh ha-Nistar, MS Mich. 340, fol. 31a. Natan the
Physician, Zikhron Tov, MS Cambridge 485, fol. 93b, Rashi, and others had similarly as-
serted that the levitical prohibitions against illicit sexual relations (arayot) precede the chap-
ters on holiness to illustrate that abstention from the arayot is a necessary precondition
for sanctity. See Rashi on Lev. 19:1, s.v. qedoshim tihiyu.
68. Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved on the Throne,” 59–62.

69. Altmann, “Motif of the ‘Shells’ in Azriel of Gerona,” 173.
70. Ibid., 178–179.
71. Ibid., 172–179.
72. MS Cambridge Dd 4.2; compare Zohar 1:19b–20a; 2:15b; 3:227a; Zohar H.adash,
38a–38b.
73. Moses de Leon, Commentary on the Merkavah in Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge
4:2, fol. 47b; Farber-Ginat, Perush ha-Merkavah le-Rav Moshe de Leon, 9–55. Eleazar of
Worms similarly asserts that the missing heh signifies an incomplete vision. However,
he believed that the prophet, unaccustomed to the heavenly realm, was unprepared for a
complete vision of the divine glory and saw the electrum (h.ashmal) instead. For another
interpretation, see Abrams, Ha-Guf ha- Elohi ha-Nashi Be-Qabbalah, 40.
74. Idel, “Land of Israel in Medieval Kabbalah,” 170–187.
75. In his Sheqel ha-Qodesh, Moses de Leon explains that the Shekhinah is the mirror
that does not shine independently — she absorbs all the light of the sefirot above. Since she
does not shine herself, she is the entryway for prophets, who even though they themselves
may not be able to enter further into the sefirotic realm, can nonetheless glimpse within
because she does not shine — if she did, they would not be able to see within and achieve
a divine vision. On the Shekhinah as an “optic hole,” see Wolfson, Speculum, 307.
76. BT Eruvin 21b on Song of Songs 7:14; BT Ketuvot 10a–b; Fonrobert, Menstrual
Purity.
77. In MS BN 841, fol. 252a, there is a discussion of ten levels of impurity, a mirror image
of the holy sefirot. The tenth level of impurity, the ditch, contrasts the image of the Shek-
hinah, the well. The symbolism of openings in the land may also correspond to the sexual
organ of the supernal land, the Shekhinah. See also the parallel made between the Shekhi-
nah and the vagina in Zohar 3:142a.
78. Zohar 2:26b; Idel, “Land of Israel,” 174–175; Wolfson, “Circumcision, Vision of God,
and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215.
79. Moses de Leon, like Gikatilla, relates the supernal foreskin to the impure Shekhinah.
Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2, fol. 48a; Joseph Gikatilla, Perush al ha-Merkavah,
1:4, 49.
80. Moses de Leon may have based his interpretation on a Pietistic interpretation of
the external qelippah. In the Pietist versions of Sod ha-Egoz, the green external shell is
specifically described as the “qelippah that drops off.” Just as old blood sloughs off the wall
of the uterus, the qelippah drops off its shell (Altmann, “Eleazar of Worms’ H.okhmath
ha-Egoz,” English, 105, 106; Hebrew, 111, 112. Dan, “H.okhmath ha-Egoz,” appendix A,
77–78; appendix C, 81).
81. Compare de Leon on the incomplete nature of Balaam’s vision. Moses de Leon,
Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge 4:2, fol. 47b; Zohar 1:262b.
82. Joseph Gikatilla, Perush al ha-Merkavah, 1:4, p. 49.
83. Zohar H.adash, 38a.
84. See, for example, Zohar 2:126b–127a; 3:65b.
85. Wolfson, Speculum, 235–281.
86. For more on this text, see chapter 5.

five. The Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah
1. Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,” 104, 107–109.
2. Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:2:3, 317–318.
3. Mark 5:25–34; Matt. 9:20–22; Luke 8:43–48; Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 1:3:3, 319.
4. Rashi on BT Eruvin 21b, s.v. she-ogdot.
5. Idel, “Rabbinism versus Kabbalism,” 285–287; Kabbalah and Eros, 27–29. Compare
Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,” 120–121.
6. Lev. 15:19–30.
7. BT Berakhot 31a; BT Niddah 66a; BT Megillah 28b.
8. Zohar 3:79a.
9. See also Zohar 1:175 a–b; Ginsburg, The Sabbath in Classical Kabbalah, 116, 292–293;
Tishby, The Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1232–1233; Wolfson, “Coronation of the Sabbath Bride,”
301–343; Wolfson, “Eunuchs Who Keep the Sabbath,” 154–161.
10. Exodus Rabbah, 23:12; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, 136; Isaac of Acre, Sefer
Me irat Einayim, 174, 241. See also Marcus, Rituals of Childhood, 151n29. Note that while
the Shekhinah is portrayed as niddah in Egypt, terrestrial women are not. According to
Midrash Tanh.uma, Jewish women did not menstruate while in Egypt because their fear of
the Egyptians interrupted their flow. Midrash Tanh.uma, ed. Buber, 3:5:18, 27.
11. Compare Zohar 3:255b (RM).
12. Zohar 3:97a–b, 152b (RM). See also Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1242.
13. Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, ed. Wolfson, 136.
14. Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 49; Wolfson, “Face of Jacob Inscribed on the Moon,”
245–253.
15. Reproduction and the menstrual cycle were linked to the moon in the ancient
world and the Middle Ages. See Aubart, “Threatened Wombs: Aspects of Uterine Magic,”
421–449; Eliade, “Moon and Its Mystique,” 154–187; Wolfson, “Face of Jacob,” 267n59;
Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 71; Albertus Magnus, De Caelo et Mundo,
1:1:2, 29; Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 87–88. For the association in the modern period,
see Cutler, “Lunar and Menstrual Phase Locking,” 834–839.
16. Judah the Pietist, Sefer H.asidim, ed. Margaliot, par. 1148, 571–572; Eleazar of Worms,
Perush ha-Roqeah. al ha-Torah, 249; Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 50; Eleazar of Worms, Sid-
dur H.asidei Ashkenaz, 2:393; compare Pirqei de Rabbi Eliezer, 45.
17. Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 50. BT Megillah 22b; BT H.agigah 18a; BT Rosh ha-
Shanah 23a. Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., 130, par. 228; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-
Rimmon, 90; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 175, 177; H.ayim Vital, Pri Ets H.ayim,
452; Vital, Shaar ha-Kavanot, 76b. Note that H.emdat Yamim (1732) 2:23d–24a empowers
women. See Wolfson, “Face of Jacob,” 257n13.
18. The idea that the Shekhinah’s behavior depends on external influences similarly
derives from descriptions of the moon in medieval astronomy. Scholem, “Two Treatises
of Moses de Leon,” 338, 381; Zohar 1:181a; 2:218b.
19. Zohar 1:38a, 1: 53a, 185a; 2:237b; 3: 95a–95b; 3:247b. According to Zohar 1:190b, God
requires a sacrifice of atonement for Rosh H.odesh to mask the smell of the Shekhinah’s

menstrual blood; compare Joseph Angelet, “Sod Ibbur ha-Levanah,” in Kaf-Dalet Sodot,
MS Oxford 1663, fol. 93b; Felix, “Peraqim be-Haguto ha-Qabbalit shel ha-Rav Yosef Ange-
let,” 12–13.
20. On Joseph Hamadan, see Felix, “Teurgiah, Magiah, ve-mystica be-qabbalato shel
Rav Yosef ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah”; Gottlieb, “Two Additional Treatises by Joseph
Hamadan,” 170–173; Idel, “Additional Remnants from the Writings of Joseph Hamadan,”
47–55; Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 109–125; Liebes, Studies in the Zohar, 103–126; Mopsik,
Joseph de Hamadan. On Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, see Altmann, “On the Question of the
Authorship of the Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot,” 256–276, 405–412; Meier, “Critical Edition of
the Sefer Taamey ha-Mitzwoth,” 1–7. Nine of the thirteen manuscript versions of the Sefer
Taamei ha-Mitsvot identified by Altmann (256) contain the mystery of the niddah. I use
MS Jerusalem 8o597 as the base text for the discussion, citing varia when necessary.
21. This is not the only parallel between supernal man and woman and their human
counterparts. Hamadan explains that just as the moon is illuminated and filled by the ef-
flux of the sun, man enlightens woman. The parallel extends beyond sociology to biology.
According to medieval theories of medicine adopted from the Greeks, men were made
up of hot and dry elements, and women of cold and wet. This distribution of qualities
also belongs to the cosmic order. The male sun rules during the day and is responsible for
the growth of warm and dry vegetation, while the moon rules during the night, freshen-
ing springs of water and promoting the growth of cold and wet plants. Hamadan, Sefer
Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a.
22. BT H.ullin 60b; Zohar 1:168a–b, 252a. For a different interpretation, see Zohar
1:73b, where the sins of man cause the flaw in the moon.
23. The blessing over the new moon is compared to the marriage ceremony (qiddu-
shin). Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a.
24. Hamadan associates the thirty-day limit on the Nazirite vow to the Shekhinah’s
menstrual cycle. Because the Nazirite state is intricately connected with the supernal
woman, women are permitted to become Nazirites (Num. 6:2). Joseph Hamadan, Sefer
Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 187a; Ms BN 850.3, fols. 230a–231b.
25. For a discussion of different types of valid water, see Maimonides, Mishneh Torah,
Hilkhot Miqvaot, 11:1–12.
26. BT Eruvin 4b; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Miqvaot, 1:1; 4:2.
27. BT Baba Batra 65b; Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Miqvaot, 6:6.
28. Kabbalists often compare dynamic interplay in the heavenly realm and the process
of emanation to rivers, streams, and fountains. The final sefirah, the Shekhinah, is often
compared to the ocean or a well. Hamadan incorporates this association into the image of
the Shekhinah as a miqveh. The symbol of the supernal ritual bath is usually applied to the
sefirah of H.esed, lovingkindness. See among others, Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Nefesh ha-
Hakhamah, par. 63, n.p.; Zohar 3:54a; Menah.em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 12:1;
on Yesod as a miqveh, see Zohar 1:244b.
29. Note that the Zohar compares seminal emission to a spring of water. Spring water
is not drawn and would be valid for use in a miqveh. See Wolfson, “Coronation of the Sab-

bath Bride,” 305; on male and female waters, see Wolfson, Circle in the Square, 110–115,
227n160, 228n168.
30. The flow of divine energy reflects medieval medical theory. Just as medieval physi-
cians believed that sperm originates in the brain and then flows throughout the torso to
the penis, kabbalists posited that the supernal efflux flows through sefirot to Yesod, the
divine phallus. Compare Menah. em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 46a.
God and Textual Interpretation,” 189–215.
32. Compare Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c.
33. Compare Joseph Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 326b.
34. Compare Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c.
35. The written Torah is a symbol of Tiferet. Its secrets are brought to light by the oral
Torah, the Shekhinah. The comparison between the written Torah and a ritual bath in the
passage is therefore significant. Tiferet not only purifies the Shekhinah but also, as the
written Torah, also purifies Israel.
36. See Kushnir-Oron, “Ha-Peliah ve-ha-Qanah, 82, 104; Liebes, “How the Zohar Was
Written,” in Studies in the Zohar, 103–110.
37. Zohar 3:272a (RM).
38. M Niddah 7:4. Epstein, Introduction to the Text of the Mishnah, 124; Fonrobert,
Menstrual Purity, 222n11; Harrington, The Impurity Systems of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271.
The Tosefta refers instead to women’s bath houses. Lieberman, Tosefta Rishonim, 15:1,
p. 278. Josephus describes the need for women to leave their homes while menstruating,
but it is likely that he is describing the practices of Israelites in the desert (Num. 5:2–3)
rather than the actual practice of first-century Jews. Josephus, Antiquities, 3:11, 3. Albeck,
addenda to Mishnah Niddah, 589; compare Dinary, “Impurity Customs of the Menstru-
ate Woman,” 309n55.
39. Videvdad, 183; Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism, 1:307n77; Culpepper, “Zoroas-
trian Menstruation Taboos”; Elman, “Scripture versus Contemporary Needs: A Sasanian/
Zoroastrian Example,” 153–169; Kessler, The Falashas, 70; Schwarz, Ethiopian Jewish Im-
migration, 209–214.
40. BT Rosh H.odesh 26a; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 18–19.
41. Harrington, Impurity System of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271.
42. Cohen, “Women and the Sacred,” 275–276; Elman, “Scripture versus Contempo-
rary Needs,”153–169.
43. See Rashi on BT Niddah 56b, s.v. beit ha-temeot; Nahmanides on Gen. 31:35, ed.
Chavel, 1:387–388; Nahmanides on Lev. 12:4, ed. Chavel, 2:66; Harrington, The Impurity
Systems of Qumran and the Rabbis, 271.
44. Sifra 5:12; Numbers Rabbah, 10:8; Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 2:1–3,
8; ver. B, 3:1–4, 12.
45. Sifra, 9:12; BT Shabbat 64b. Note that Rabbi Aqiva’s lenient ruling is not an attempt
to relieve women’s suffering; rather, he is concerned to relieve the suffering of a man living
with an unattractive wife.

46. The BdN presents both opinions: BdN 1:2, 5; 1:3, 5; 2:1, 11; 3:1, 21. See also Finkel-
stein, “Persistence of Rejected Customs in Palestine,” 184.
47. E.g., Eleazar of Worms, Sefer ha-Roqeah., 204–206, par. 318; Isaac of Dura, Shaarei
Dura, 2:18, 81; Abraham ben David, Perush al Sifra, 12:8.
48. E.g., Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 6b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fols. 177a, 178a; Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, ed. Zwelling, 346.
49. Sefer Halakhot Gedolot, 1:347; Sefer Miqtsoot, in BdN, 51; see also Yannai, Mah.zor
Piyyutei Yannai, ed. Rabinowitz, 432n17. The roots of this custom may lie in Zoroastrian
practice. Zoroastrian menstruants wore special clothing that had been worn by a woman
who had given birth to a stillborn child or had come into contact with a corpse (Vendidad,
79; now newly translated by Samuel Secunda, “Ki Derekh Nashim Li,” Videvdad 16.2.2,
339). Karaites required menstruants to wear menstrual clothing and considered the clothes
polluting (Sefer Halakhot Gedolot, 3:347n29).
50. Mah.zor Vitry, 499, 606; Sefer ha- Orah, 2:1, 167; Sefer ha-Pardes, 358; Hagahot Mai-
muniyot, 18; Ta-Shma, Minhag Ashkenaz ha-Qadmon, 50–51.
51. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 344.
52. Ibid., 346; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a;
Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; Zohar 1:238b.
53. Zohar 3:152b (RM).
54. Margaliot’s gloss to Zohar 3:152b (RM). Moses de Leon may have edited this col-
lection of Geonic responsa. Wolfson, “H.ai Gaon’s Letter and Commentary on Aleynu,”
367.
55. Clothing was a common means of disclosing the character and deeds of men, an-
gels, demons, and sefirot in medieval Kabbalah. Changes in clothing often reflect changes
in spiritual status. Cohen-Alloro, Sod ha-Malbush be-Sefer ha Zohar; Scholem, “Paradise
Garb of Souls,” 297–306; Wolfson, “Secret of the Garment in Nahmanides,” 25–49; Wolf-
son, Speculum, 312–313.
56. Zohar 1:238b; compare 3:54a, 152a. The Shekhinah is often described in terms of
Isaiah 34:6, “the sword of the Lord is filled with blood,” and Isaiah 63:2, “why is your cloth-
ing red?” On sefirot and colors, see Idel, “Kabbalistic Prayer and Colors,” 17–27.
57. Biale, Eros and the Jews, 45.
six. The Ontic Metamorphosis of the Menstruating Shekhinah

1. For example, Ezek. 6:17; Lam. 1:8, 4:14; Jer. 13:22; Ezra 9:11.
2. Compare Ricoeur, Symbolism of Evil, 35; on the complicity between sexuality and
defilement, see p. 28.
3. Isa. 45:7.
4. Bahir, 77; see Scholem, Origins, 147.
5. ibn Shueib, Perush al Beur ha-Ramban, 24b. The printed version falsely ascribes this
work to Meir ibn Sahula. See Horowitz, The Jewish Sermon in Fourteenth-Century Spain,
14–16, 159–170; Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 55; Pedaya, “ ‘Flaw’ and ‘Cor-
rection’ in the Concept of the Godhead,” 187n8.

6. Zohar 2:263a; compare Zohar 1:146b–147a (Sitrei Torah), 1:160a, 1:194a; MS BN
841, fols. 245b–253a; Idel, “Zohar Translation of R. David b. Yehudah ha-H.asid,” 84–98;
MS Parma 1896/6, fols. 201a–203a; MS Parma 2654, fols. 279b–280. Joseph Angelet, Kaf
Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian 1663, fol. 93a.
7. Gottlieb, Ha-Qabbalah be-Sof ha-Meah Yod Gimmel, 111; Ha-Qabbalah be-Kitvei Rab-
benu Bah.ya ben Asher, 23n74.
8. Zohar 2:162b. On the divine body, see also Eilberg-Schwartz, ed., The People of the
Body, especially contributions by Eilberg-Schwartz, Wolfson, and Janowitz; Idel, “Image
of Man above the Sefirot,” 41–55; Idel, “Sefirot above the Sefirot,” 238–280; Idel, “Sexual
Metaphors and Praxis in the Kabbalah,” 197–224; Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 99; Mopsik,
“Body of Engenderment in the Hebrew Bible,” 49–73; Scholem, “Kabbalah and Myth,”
104; Wolfson, “Image of Jacob Engraved upon the Throne,” 1–62.
9. See Scholem, “Sitra Ah.ra,” 73; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 2:460.
10. Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 335–336.
11. Wolfson, “Left Contained in Right,” 27–52. In Lurianic Kabbalah, see Tishby, Torat
ha-Ra ve-ha-Qelippah be-Qabbalat ha-Ari, 52–61. For a possible source, see Idel, “Evil
Thought of the Deity,” 354–356, 358.
12. Note these sefirot are associated with the female. Binah and Shekhinah are femi-
nine aspect of the divine, and Gevurah (grammatically feminine like the other two) is the
divine source of terrestrial women.
13. Idel, Kabbalah: New Perspectives, 222–234; Tishby, The Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:376–
379.
14. Zohar 1:147b (Tosefta); Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 190–191; Tishby, The Wisdom of the
Zohar, 1:376–379; Wolfson, “Woman — The Feminine as Other,” 189; Wolfson “Images of
God’s Feet,” 168; Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 44–46.
15. Lauterbach, “A Significant Controversy,” 60–61. Exodus Rabbah, 3:4; 34:1; 37:4;
Numbers Rabbah, 4:13; BT Sukkah 4b–5a; BT Rosh ha-Shanah 31a; BT Menakhot 43b;
Sifre ba-Midbar, 115.
16. Zech. 5:8.
17. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, cited in Idel, Rav Menah.em Recanati ha-
Mequbal, 91; Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 61–67.
18. Brinner, “Understanding and Misunderstanding,” typescript, 17, 21. I am indebted
to Brinner for providing me with a copy of his then-unpublished work.
19. Ibid., 15.
20. Ibid., 15–16.
21. For an example of the Shekhinah as a passive vessel, see Zohar 1:181a.
22. Zohar 3:277a (RM).
23. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 345–346; Moses de Leon, “Commentary on the
Haggadah,” in Haggadah Shlemah, 121–132; Joseph Gikatilla, “Commentary on the Hag-
gadah,” in Haggadah Shlemah, 111–120.
24. On mei niddah and niddah, see BT H.ullin 109b; Zohar 1:27b.
25. Isaac of Acre, Me irat Einayim, 29, 154, 198; Zohar 3:142b; Joseph Angelet, Livnat
ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 326a; Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c; Tishby, The Wisdom

of the Zohar, 1:375. For the possible midrashic source of this idea, see Targum Yonatan ben
Uzziel on Gen. 4:1.
26. The roots of this idea may be found in Leviticus Rabbah, 19:5, where the image of
the zavah is compared to a period of tribulation for Israel. Compare Joseph Angelet,
Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 342a; see also fols. 324a–325b, in which Angelet explains
that just as a woman is polluted by blood, man may be polluted by sin; just as menstruants
must conduct internal examinations during their “clean days” to determine their purity
status, man must introspect to ensure that he is pure of all sins. On Angelet’s image of the
righteous soul as clear glass, see Wolfson, Speculum, 276–277.
27. Zohar 1:53b, 221b, 242a; 2:27b; 3:19b. For the roots of the idea, see Genesis Rabbah,
21:9.
28. Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 4b, 6b.
29. Joseph Angelet, “Sod Miqreh ve-Pegiah,” in Kaf-Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian
1663, fols. 91b–92a; Angelet, Livnat ha-Sappir, MS BM 771, fol. 324a; Zohar 3:79a.
30. Gen. 3:4–7.
31. BT Eruvin 100b; Avot d’Rabbi Natan, ed. Schechter, ver. A, 1:4.
32. Targum Yonatan ben Uzziel on Gen. 4:1; BT Shabbat 146a; BT Yebamot 103b; BT
Avodah Zarah 22b. See Rashi on BT Shabbat 146a, s.v. ke-sh-ba ha-nah.ash al h.avah.
33. Biale suggests that the serpent’s filth refers to seminal pollution (Eros and the Jews,
45). Boyarin suggests that the “filth” that the serpent introduced into Eve was the desire
for illicit sexual relations, “adultery or bestiality or both” (Carnal Israel, 82).
34. BT Niddah 65b.
35. Barr, “Question of Religious Influence: The Case of Zoroastrianism, Judaism and
Christianity,” 201–235; Neusner, “How Much Iranian in Jewish Babylonia,” 139–149; Neus-
ner, Judaism, Christianity, and Zoroastrianism in Talmudic Babylonia; Neusner, Judaism and
Zoroastrianism; Williams, “Zoroastrian and Judaic Purity Laws,” 72–89; Elman, “Accul-
turation and Elite Persian,” 31–56; Elman, “Scripture versus Contemporary Needs,” 153–
169. In his excellent dissertation, Samuel Secunda argues that Zoroastrian and Sassanian
rabbinic sources regarding menstruation represent part of a greater “conversation” that
took place in Sassanian Iran” (“Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ” 10). I have been able to
refine many of the following arguments that I made in my 1999 dissertation with the aid of
his research.
36. Choksy, Purity and Pollution in Zoroastrianism, xxii–xxvii, 95–103.
37. Cohen, “Menstruants and the Sacred,” 294n25; Gafni, “Babylonian Rabbinic Cul-
ture,” 241; Kohut, Sefer Arukh ha-Shalem, 3:169; Levi, Neuhebräisches und chaldäisches
Wörterbuch, 1:430. Dastanistan is the Persian term for Zoroastrian houses of impure
women. See Boyce, A History of Zoroastrianism, 307n77; Secunda, “Dashtana — ‘ki derekh
nashim li,’ ” 20–23.
38. BT Avodah Zarah 18a, noted by Secunda, “Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ” 24.
39. Ibid.
40. Hebrew translation of the way of women is upon me above “Derekh Nashim Li,”
Gen. 31:35; BT Avodah Zarah 24b; see also BT Avodah Zarah 18a. Secunda suggests that
the rabbis claim the etymology of this term as a polemical response to Zoroastrian men-

strual laws (“Dashtana — ‘ki derekh nashim li,’ ”29–31). See also BT Berakhot 8b, where
Rabban Gamliel admires the Persians because “they are temperate in their eating, modest
in the privy, and chaste in another matter.”
41. BT Shabbat 110a. The ensuing exhortation to assault the serpent with nail parings
and hair similarly suggests Persian influence, for Zoroastrians considered these trimmings
as polluting as the dead (Boyce, History of Zoroastrianism, 1:309).
42. Bundahis, 3:5, 15n4; Zaehner, Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, 183.
43. Bundahis, 3:5:15–16; Culpepper, “Zoroastrian Menstrual Taboos,” 201; Zaehner,
Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, 183–184.
44. “Zatspram,” in Zurvan: A Zoroastrian Dilemma, trans. Zaehner, 351. Ashkenazi Jews
also believed that female demons menstruated (Scholem, Kabbalah, 325).
45. Alexander Kohut assumes that the Bundahis myth was the source of the rabbinic
tradition (“Über die jüdische Angelologie und Dämonologie in ihrer Abhängigkeit vom
Parsismus,” 63, 66; see also Eliade, “Moon and Its Mystique,” 165–166). This reading does
not necessarily contradict Biale and Boyarin, since the image of the serpent instilling filth
admits of many different exegeses. Interpretations of subsequent exegetes reflect their
particular concerns. Biale’s association of filth with seminal pollution corresponds to Pal-
estinian rabbinic emphasis on baal qeri, discussed in chapter 1 (Eros and the Jews, 40).
Boyarin’s association of filth with illicit sexual behavior points to a rabbinic belief in wom-
en’s insatiable lust (Carnal Israel, 82). On the sitra ah.ra and lasciviousness in Kabbalah,,
see Liebes, “Zohar and Eros,” 100; Scholem, “Sitra Ah.ra,” 56–83; Tishby, Wisdom of the
Zohar, 2:509–514, 529–532.
46. Zohar 1:25b, 36b, 47a, 52b, 63b, 70b, 122b, 126 a–b, 145b, 228b; 2:194a, 168a, 193b,
236b, 242b; 3:97b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597,
fol. 178b; Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c.
Samael is often described as a filthy (zohama) impure spirit (ruah. masava de-zohama).
47. Isaac of Acre, differing from the Zoharic interpretation that follows, does not offer
a dualistic interpretation of the sefirotic realm. For Isaac, menstruation is a force created
within Judgment. Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 29; compare Shem Tov ibn Gaon,
Keter Shem Tov, 42b.
48. Conversely, when the Shekhinah is strong, no impure force can approach her. For
example, she was able to protect Sarah from the impure powers of Pharaoh. See Zohar
3:276a (RM).
49. Zohar 3:79a; 1:190b. Some kabbalists combine the midrash of the serpent instilling
filth into Eve with the symbol of the Shekhinah as moon to create a lunar myth of the ori-
gin of menstruation. When the Shekhinah is impure, she attracts the spirits of impurity
from the sitra ah.ra. Thus aroused, the evil serpent darkens the moon with a stain (ketem,
the halakhic term for blood spots). Her impurity is made manifest by the dark phase
of the moon. See Zohar 1:131a, 1:65a, 192b; 3:247b; Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Nefesh ha-
Hakhamah, 14; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a;
Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c; H.ayim Vital, Pri Ets H.ayim, 19:3, 458–459.
Like terrestrial women, the moon will be freed of all traces of blemish and restored to her
former state of brilliance in the messianic age (Midrash Tehillim, ed. Buber, 146:4). The

nexus of menstrual impurity, impure spirits, the moon, and the eschaton is evident in the
Zohar, where the verse “and I will cause the spirit of impurity to pass from the land” is
used most consistently in connection with the restoration of the moon in the messianic
age. See Zohar 1:70b, 73b, 114a, 124a, 131a, 163a–b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 178a; Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c.
50. Zohar 1:48a, 53b–54, 58a, 100a; 3:41b, 47a; Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cam-
bridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 33a; Cohen-Alloro, “Ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf be-Sefer ha-Zohar”;
Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the Commandments,” 243.
51. Zohar 1:25b, 36b, 47a, 52b, 122b, 126a–b, 145b; 2:111a, 194a; 3:79a; Joseph Angelet,
Livnat ha-Sappir, MS British Museum 771, fol. 326a; Menah. em Recanati, Perush al ha-
Torah, 61c. On the identification of the Shekhinah with the serpent, see Zohar 3:119b;
compare Zohar 1:64a. Joseph Hamadan describes the sitra ah.ra as eighty pilagshim (Sefer
Tashaq, 313).
52. Zohar 2:125a, 128a.
53. Zohar 3:124b–125a (RM); compare 1:148a–b (Sitrei Torah). The demon Lilith is
explicitly described as a niddah, maidservant, Gentile woman, and harlot in the RM;
Giller, “Enlightened Will Shine,” 75; Wolfson, “On Becoming Female,” 323; Koren, “Men-
struant as Other in Medieval Judaism and Christianity,” 33–59. Compare MS BN 841, fols.
246b–247a.
54. Maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, ed. Pines, 3:47, 595.
55. Idel, “Evil Thought of the Deity,” 356–364. On the possibilities of Zoroastrianism
influence in Kabbalah, see Tishby, Torat ha-Ra ve-ha-Qelippah b-Qabbalat ha-Ari, 16;
Stroumsa, “Zoroastrian Origin to the Sefirot?” 17–33.
56. Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Written,” 103–110.
57. Pines, “A Parallel between Two Iranian and Jewish Themes,” 51. Against this view,
see Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Written,” 206n109; Felix, “Teurgiah, magiah ve-mistica
be-qabbalto shel Rav Yosef ha-ba mi-Shushan ha-Birah,” 5–11.
58. Frymer-Kensky, In the Wake of the Goddess, 181.
59. Joseph Hamadan offers a very different version of this idea, endowing the concu-
bine with a positive aspect in his discussions of the “pilegesh of the Holy One” (Sefer
Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS BN 817.3, fol. 162a). See also Idel, “Additional Fragments from the
Writings of Joseph Hamadan,” 47–48, 52–53; Idel, Kabbalah and Eros, 104–152.
60. Moses de Leon, Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 48a; Scholem, “She-
khinah,” 190–191.
61. Note that when the Shekhinah is impure, her character is altered by “the Mystery of
the Storm Wind,” “the external shell,” and “the Mystery of the Entrance to the Land.”
These all refer to her menstrual cycle. See chapter 4.
62. This phrase is a play on Jeremiah 3:3–4: “you had the brazenness of a street woman,
you refused to be ashamed. Just now you called to Me, ‘Father! You are the Companion of
my youth.’ ”
63. A play on Psalms 106:39: “thus they became defiled by their acts, debauched through
their deeds.” Moses de Leon continues by explaining that the male sins in qeri while the
female in the botsinei (Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge, Dd 4:2:1, fol. 48a). In this section,

however, de Leon may refer to a popular saying in rabbinic literature: If there are no will-
ing partners, men and women intent on committing adultery will satisfy themselves by
other means. Men will substitute a “large squash” with a small hole for a woman and emit
semen in vain (be-qeri), while women will substitute a small squash (be-botsinei) for a
man. See BT Megillah 12a–b; BT Sotah 10a; Rashi on BT Sotah 10a s.v. qari u-botsinei;
Kohut, Arukh ha-Shalem, 7:183; Liebes, “Peraqim be-Milon Sefer ha-Zohar,” 141–151, 161–
164; Wolfson, “Woman — The Feminine as Other,” 178–180.
64. Zohar 1:122b.
65. Zohar 3:226a (RM).
66. MS Parma 2654, fol. 276a, probably written by Joseph Hamadan, suggests a similar
connection between the image of a maidservant taking her mistress’s rightful place and
menstrual impurity. When the serpent instilled his filth (menstruation?) into the Shekhi-
nah, he weakened the pure, divine channels and empowered the pilegesh, named Timna,
giving her access to the divine realm. Timna, which means “she who was prevented,” tried
to take the place of her pure mistress and ascend through the holy sefirot. She was literally
timna, prevented, from this ascent by the sefirah of Tiferet.
67. The letter heh is the final letter in the tetragrammaton. Compare Zohar 1:27.
68. Lev. 14:34–35.
69. Zohar 3:281b–282a (RM).
70. Compare Zohar 3:272b (RM).
71. See Liebes, “ ‘De Natura Dei,’ ” 51–54; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 190–191; Tishby, The
Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:382–384.
72. Tishby, The Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:382–384.
73. Joseph Angelet, Kaf-Dalet Sodot, MS Oxford Bodleian 1663, fol. 89b–90b. Yannai, the
early medieval liturgical poet, compared the hardships of the menstruant to the hardships
of Israel in exile. See his Mah.zor Piyyutei Yannai, ed. Rabinowitz, on Lev. 15:25, 432–433.
74. M Kelim 1:5–9.
75. Zohar 2:3. On the connection between sexual immorality and the exile of the She-
khinah, see BT Sotah 3b; Sifre on Deut. 23:15, 258. See also Schechter, Aspects of Rabbinic
Theology, 205–206.
76. Zohar 2:3a–b.
77. Thanks to Moshe Idel for providing me with a typescript of the MS BN 841 version
of Sod ha-Nah.ash. Scholem, Major Trends, 398–399; “Sitra Ah.ra,” 79–80.
78. Compare Isaac ha-Kohen, “Treatise on the Left Emanation,” ed. Scholem, 249n1;
Origins, 298.
79. “Mystery of Shaatnez,” in Gottlieb, “Kabbalah of Rabbi Joseph Gikatilla”; Maarekhet
Elohut, 278.
80. Philo explains that a man should not engage in sexual relations with menstruating
women lest he waste his generative seed “for the sake of a gross and untimely pleasure”
(Special Laws, 3:32).
81. Joseph Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fols. 275b–276a.
82. Eilberg-Schwartz, “Problem of the Body for the People of the Book,” 23; Eilberg-
Schwartz, Savage in Judaism, 141–177.

83. Leviticus Rabbah, 25:8, Numbers Rabbah, 10:1; M Niddah 5:4. Compare the asso-
ciation between sexuality and orlah in Ezra of Gerona, Perush Shir ha-Shirim, in Kitvei
Ramban, ed. Chavel, 2:743d; Bah.ya ben Asher on Lev. 19:23, 2:529; Recanati, Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, 80b–c.
84. Compare Shaarei Tsedeq 10a, where Gikatilla explains that the biblical laws of
zavah are stricter than those of niddah because the niddah’s flow is restricted to a certain
cycle whereas the zavah’s flow is not restricted to any temporal boundary (it is “out of
place”). For this reason, Num. 5:2 banned zavot rather than niddot from the Israelite camp.
85. Compare Douglas, Purity and Danger, 53. On miscegenation in the RM, see Giller,
“Enlightened Will Shine,” 84–85.
86. Joseph Gikatilla, Sod ha-Nah.ash, MS BN 841, fol. 277b; Zohar 1:126b; 2:111a; 3:79a;
compare al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85; Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the
Commandments,” 244.
87. Douglas, Purity and Danger, 4; Douglas, Implicit Meanings, 53.
88. Ibid.,113.
89. Ibid., 124. That pollution taboos are socially constructed corresponds to Fou-
cault’s understanding of how our attitudes toward sexuality are determined by the order
in society (History of Sexuality, 3–13).
90. Flory, Marian Representations in the Miracle Tales of Thirteenth-Century Spain and
France.
91. Koren, “Interpreting Text, Gender, and the Other,” 33–59.
92. On the much-debated subject of divine union in Kabbalah, see also Abrams, Ha-
Guf ha- Elohi ha- Nashi ba-Qabbalah; Hellner-Eshed, A River Flows from Eden, 69–74; Idel,
“Sexual Metaphors and Praxis,” 211–212; Idel, Eros and Kabbalah, especially 131; Liebes,
“Zohar ve-ha-Eros,” 67–119; Scholem, Origins, 142; Scholem, Major Trends, 223, 227; Wolf-
son, “Woman — The Feminine as Other,” 167, 169; Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,”
85–92; Wolfson, Speculum, 358–360.
93. Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 186; Wolfson, Speculum, 360.
94. Zohar 1:232a; Scholem, “Shekhinah,” 186; Wolfson, “Woman — The Feminine as
Other,” 188; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 1:372.
95. Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,” 99–104, 108–110; Sendor, “Isaac the Blind’s
Commentary on Sefer Yetsirah,” 1:12–13. See also Joseph Gikatilla’s play on the words
breasts (shadayim) and demons (shedim) in Shaarei Tsedeq, 4b–5a; on the symbolic rela-
tionship between language and anatomy, see Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medi-
cine, 16. The example cited above from Zohar 1:232a does not correspond to this paradigm:
when the angel “stands in Judgment upon the world it is called female, like a woman who
is pregnant, she is filled with Judgment and then called female.” Compare Hellner, A River
Flows from Eden, 72, 169.
96. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, ed. Meier, 127–130. On the male andro-
gyne in Hamadan, see Wolfson, “Crossing Gender Boundaries,” 81–82.
97. One could argue that there is an orthographic error in the manuscript. The letter
yod could have been unwittingly elongated to produce vav, thereby confusing hu for hee. It
would be more difficult for a scribe to confuse vav for heh, thus mistaking darko for a

darkah. Most manuscript variants confirm these readings. Only two manuscript varia-
tions read darkah, “her way.” MS Escorial Heb MS. 4.17 and MS Palatine Library Parma
Heb. 1231; see varia in Meier, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 127.
98. Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fols. 177a–179b.
99. The term used is a masculine possessive, be-fgimo. All the other pronouns are
feminine.
100. Bi-shlimo (masculine personal pronoun). Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Tashaq, 346.
Note the integration of the feminine into the masculine in a manuscript variant that reads
“on the head of the matronita stands his crown.”
101. Zohar 1:122b.
seven. The Interplay between Myth, Science, and Law

1. On the intersection of science and religion among Jews, see Langerman, “Accep-
tance and Devaluation,” 223–245; Ruderman, Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery; Ru-
derman, Kabbalah, Magic, and Science. Among Christians, see Biller and Ziegler, Religion
and Medicine in the Middle Ages; Ziegler, Medicine and Religion c. 1300; Risse, Mending
Bodies, Saving Souls.
2. Courtenay, “Curers of Body and Soul,” 69–75.
3. The most popular source of medical authority in the Bible was Eccl. 38:1–15. See
Ziegler, Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages, 5.
4. Courtenay, “Curers of Body and Soul,” 69–75.
5. On the fusion of medicine and theology by Arnau de Villanova, see Ziegler, Medi-
cine and Religion c. 1300; Michael R. McVaugh, “Moments of Inflection: The Careers of
Arnau de Villanova,” in Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages, 47–68. On Peter Lom-
bard, see Biller, “Inquiry into the Origins of the Idea of ‘Sex Ratio,’ ” 27–52. On Hildegard
of Bingen, see Jacquart, “Hildegard et la physiologie de son temps,” in Hildegard of Bingen,
121–134.
6. Shatzmiller, Jews, Medicine, and Medieval Society, 22–35, 39–55.
7. Ibid., 140.
8. M Niddah 2:5–6.
9. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c; compare Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter
Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 29. Ibn Shueib often quotes Isaac the
Blind and identifies him simply as “the pious rabbi” (ha-Rav he-H.asid). Idel, “ ‘We Have No
Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 55; Pedaya, “ ‘Flaw’ and ‘Correction’ in the Concept of the God-
head,” Daat 6 (1987): 189n23. For more on ibn Shueib, see Horowitz, The Jewish Sermon
in Fourteenth Century Spain, 14–16, 159–170.
10. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 42–43; Lloyd, Science, Folk-
lore, and Ideology, 59; Lacey, The Family in Classical Greece.
11. Hertz, “Pre-eminence of the Right Hand,” 9.
12. This duality continues into the modern period and has been discussed at length by
scholars of gender studies. See, among others, Beavoir, The Second Sex, 3–38, 253–266;
Bordo, Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body, 165–184; Cixous and

Clément, The Newly Born Woman, 63–132; Cixous and Clément, “Laugh of the Medusa,”
212–218; Sherry Ortner, “Is Female to Male as Nature Is to Culture?” in Feminist Theory: A
Reader, 203–211.
13. Lloyd, “Right and Left in Greek Philosophy,” 56–66.
14. Preus, “Galen’s Criticism of Aristotle’s Conception Theory,” 68. On Hippocrates’
use of right and left, see Green, “Transmission of Ancient Theories of Female Physiology
and Disease,” 14.
15. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 66–68.
16. Green, “Transmission of Ancient Theories,” 42.
17. Ibid., 43; Galen, On the Usefulness, 14:10:641–642; Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexual-
ity and Medicine, 50–51.
18. On the similarities between Hippocratic and talmudic constructions of gender,
see Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 60–63.
19. Preus, “Galen’s Criticism,” 84.
20. Ibid., 72–73.
21. Note that Aristotle had never dissected a cadaver and was unaware of the existence
of ovaries. After Herophilus engaged in human dissection and discovered the ovaries,
physiologists were forced to acknowledge the analogy of the ovaries to the testes. Galen
rejected Aristotle’s model and affirmed the existence of female seed (Preus, “Galen’s Criti-
cism,” 83).
22. Aristotle, On the Generation of Animals, 4:1:12–27.
23. BT Niddah 25b, 31b; Rosner, “Sex Determination in the Talmud,” 173–178. For a
very different understanding, see BT Gittin 57a. On Aristotle and the rabbis, see Preuss,
Biblical and Talmudic Medicine, 389; Newmyer, “Talmudic Medicine and Greek Sources,”
34–57. Note that the Talmud does not systematically follow Aristotelian biological theory.
For example, BT Niddah 31a presents the Galenic idea that both men and women emit
seed that contributes to the development of the fetus. Male seed is sperm that generates
the child’s bones, sinews, nails, brain, and the whites of the eyes. Female seed is menstrual
blood, which engenders skin, flesh, blood, hair, and the pupils of the eyes.
24. The element fire is intrinsic to the sefirah of Judgment. Women, who are created in
Judgment, are therefore hewn from this elemental fire. Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Ein-
ayim, 154; compare Zohar 1:103b.
25. Sendor, “Rabbi Isaac the Blind’s Commentary on Sefer Yetsirah,” 3:142–144.
26. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c; compare Ezra of Gerona, Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, ed. Travis.
27. On the curriculum at Montpelier in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, see Siraisi,
Medieval and Early Renaissance Medicine, 72–80. On Jewish physicians and the Montpelier
College of Medicine, see Shatzmiller, Jews, Medicine, and Medieval Society, 27–31; Dulieu,
La Médecine à Montpellier, 1:86–88, 94, 187–191; Siraisi, Medieval and Early Renaissance
Medicine, 29; compare Friedenwahl, “Jews and the University of Montpelier,” 241–252.
On Rabad’s receptivity to Christian ideas, see Cohen, “Rationales for Conjugal Sex in
RABaD’s Baalei ha-Nefesh,” 65–78.
28. Green, “Transmission of Ancient Theories,” 71–72, 76.

29. Ibid., 73–87; Whipple, Role of the Nestorians and Muslims in the History of Medicine.
To be sure, Western Europeans did not completely abandon the medical sciences in the
early Middle Ages. Medical works were translated in North Africa and Ravenna. Yet the
scope of these studies was more limited. Western European physicians valued the practi-
cal use of medicine over its theoretical study and were more attracted to Soranus than to
Galen. Only four of Galen’s works were translated into Latin before the eleventh century,
and only one of these, Ad Glauconem, mentions the uterus. Green, “Transmission of An-
cient Theories,” 130–173.
30. Jordan, “Fortune of Constantine’s Pantegni,” in Constantine the African, 286–302.
31. Ibid., 293; see also Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 117, 124. This idea gave rise to a belief
in a seven-chambered uterus: three on the right, three on the left, and one in the middle.
The odd number of chambers gave rise to a third gender possibility — the hermaphrodite.
See Kudlien, “Seven Cells of the Uterus,” 415–423; Siraisi, Medieval and Early Renaissance
Medicine, 91–96; Ruderman, Kabbalah, Magic, and Science, 197n21; Trachtenberg, Jewish
Magic and Superstition, 188, 303n13.
32. Roth, “Jewish Collaborators in Alfonso’s Scientific Work,” 59–71; Shatzmiller, Jew,
Medicine, and Medieval Society.
33. This text is a Hebrew translation of the Latin De passionibus mulierum, version B.
Barkai, A History of Jewish Gynecological Texts, 20–37, 57, 65.
34. Rosner, The Medical Writings of Maimonides, 266; Maimonides, Perush le-Pirqei
Abuqrat, 5:48.
35. Travis notes that this may be a scribal error because the Mishnah deems the blood
of the upper chamber pure. Travis, “Kabbalistic Foundations of Jewish Spiritual Practice,”
701n248.
36. Travis, “Kabbalistic Foundations of Spiritual Practice,” 701 (English), 33 (Hebrew).
37. Scholem, Origins, 148–151; Wolfson, “Left Contained in the Right,” 27–52.
38. Thomas Aquinas distinguishes two types of female blood: (1) purified blood that
is used to make up the embryo and (2) the waste of this blood — menstrual blood ( Jac-
quart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 77).
39. With the exception of cats, which could resist the powers of menstrual blood and
snakes. See BT Shabbat 75b; BT Avodah Zarah 40b.
40. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:104–105.
41. Lev. 15:24.
42. Paraphrase of Job 37:16.
43. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:104–105.
44. Wright, Disposal of Impurity, 248–254; Kaufmann, Religion of Ancient Israel, 57.
45. Milgrom, introduction to Anchor Bible: Leviticus, 44, 936; Fonrobert, Menstrual Pu-
rity, 40–50.
46. Early thirteenth-century halakhic treatments of menstruants, such as Nahmanides’
H.iddushim al Massekhet Niddah, Solomon ibn Adret’s Torat ha-Bayit, or Aaron ha-Levi’s
Bedeq ha-Bayit, bear no outright disparagement of niddot. Written before the dissemina-
tion of the Zohar, they were handbooks intended for scholars required to answer intricate
halakhic questions (Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 314–315).

47. Kottek, “Medical Practice and Jewish Law,” 164–165; Sefer Teshuvot ha-Rashba ha-
Meyuh.asot le-ha-Ramban, 127:117–118. Nahmanides may have also been familiar with the
gynecological works by Sheshet ben Isaac Benveniste, Nasi of Barcelona (d. 1209). See
Barkai, “A Medieval Hebrew Treatise on Obstetrics,” 97–98; Steinschneider, Hebräische
Bibliografie, 106–110.
48. Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:65. On ibn Ezra’s approach to
gynecology, see his medical treatise Sefer ha-Nisyonnot, 221–257.
49. Boyarin, Carnal Israel, 57–60; Bullough, “Medieval Medical and Scientific Views of
Women,” 485–501; Horowitz, “Aristotle and Woman,” 212; Morsink, “Was Aristotle’s Biol-
ogy Sexist?” 84.
50. Nahmanides, “Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” in Ramban, trans. Chavel; He-
brew text in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:167.
51. Aristotle, Generation of Animals, 728a.
52. Ibid., 729a.
53. Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 55–56; Green, “Transmission
of Ancient Theories,” 16.
54. During gestation and lactation, these excess fluids are redirected to nourish the
child and maintain homeostasis (Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Science, 46).
55. Amenorrhea was considered very unhealthy because it was thought to result in the
retention of waste (introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 44). Against this view,
see Avicenna, Liber Canonis, 3:3:25, 373a–373b.
56. Concoction literally means cooking. It is a process of sanguinification by which
food is transformed by heat into blood (Green, “Transmission of Ancient Theories,” 43).
57. Aristotle, On Dreams, 2:459a.
58. Ibid., 2:459b–460a. Dean-Jones believes that this presentation contradicts Aristote-
lian biology. In On the Generation of Animals, Aristotle claims that menstrual blood is dis-
tinct from other bloods in the body. It is a residue that the womb collects during the course
of the month. Accordingly, menstrual blood would cause neither a “general disturbance” in
the blood nor a swelling in the body. Moreover, she argues that there was no menstrual
taboo in classical Greek society. Menstruating women were not scorned any more than
nonmenstruating women. Aristotle and Hippocrates encourage men to have sexual inter-
course with menstruants. Dean-Jones concludes that this excerpt was originally a gloss in
the margins and was interpolated into the text in the Hellenistic period to subjugate an in-
creasingly liberated class of women. See Dean-Jones, Women’s Bodies in Classical Greek Sci-
ence, 229–230, 234, 248. Though the account itself may be pseudepigraphic, it exerted great
influence on later natural scientists and physicians who were convinced of its authenticity.
59. Pliny, Natural History, 8:79–81.
60. Ibid., 8:33,57; Aelian, On Animals, 2:7:97; White, Book of Beasts, 169n1; compare
Albertus Magnus, Man and the Beasts, 293, 398. Thanks to Marc Epstein for his biblio-
graphical help.
61. On the physiological association between sexuality and eye disease, see Jacquart
and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 181.

62. Albertus Magnus, Quaestiones, 11:9; Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine,
74–75, 206–207; Introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 48–49. See also Robert
Grosseteste, Expositio in epistulam sancti Pauli ad Galatas, 3:3:46.
63. Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 11:129.
64. Ibid. The text draws a further connection between serpents and women: “If the
hair of a menstruating woman be taken and placed under a dung heap or clod of earth or
where dung was made during the winter or summer by virtue of the sun, there will be
engendered a long and powerful snake” ( Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine,
76). Paracelcus, the Renaissance polymath, takes this association one step further and
explains that menstrual blood and semen exposed together may give rise to the basilisk
“whose poison is similar to that in the eyes or breath of a menstruating woman” (Pagel,
Paracelcus, 116; on the dire effects of the “menstrual spirit,” see 122).
65. Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 75, 129. This understanding gave
rise to the myth of the venomous virgin, a tale that Jacquart and Thomasset describe as
“the literary justification for the fear of the poison within women’s bodies” (191–192; com-
pare the medieval commentaries to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 130–131).
66. Introduction to Women’s Secrets, trans. Lemay, 37.
67. Nahmanides was familiar with other aspects of contemporary gynecology as well.
He describes the rabbinic, Galenic, and Aristotelian perceptions of the nature of female
seed (Nahmanides’ commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:65).
68. BT Shabbat 75b, 146a; BT Avodah Zarah 22b, 40b; BT Pesah.im 111a; BT Yebamot
103b. Compare Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 154.
69. There are two distinct superstitions known as the evil eye: (1) the belief that some
people are able to harm others at a glance; and (2) the belief that jealous demons will be-
grudge men all forms of happiness. Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 54–56.
See also Kern-Ulmer, “Power of the Evil Eye and the Good Eye,” 344–353; Kern-Ulmer,
The Evil Eye.
70. Nahmanides’ commentary to Gen. 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177.
71. Nahmanides, “Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect,” in Ramban, trans. Chavel. He-
brew text in Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, 1:167.
72. Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah, 9; BdN1:2; Efraim bar Shimshon, Perush
al ha-Torah, 2:19. On the development of the association between sexual intercourse with
menstruants and monstrous births in the Christian tradition, see Jacquart and Thomasset,
Sexuality and Medicine, 74, 89; Niccoli, “Menstruum Quasi Monstruum,” 403–428; Payer,
Bridling of Desire, 107–108; Thomasset, “Nature of Women,” 54–58, 65–66. On sexual rela-
tions with menstruants engendering lepers, see, among others, Innocent III, De miseria
condicionis humanae, 1:4.
73. On the physiological association between leprosy and venereal disease in the
Middle Ages, see Ell, “Blood and Sexuality in Medieval Leprosy,” 153–164.
74. See chapter 9.
75. Jacquart and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 186–188; Women’s Secrets, trans.
Lemay, 88–89.

76. Langermann, “Acceptance and Devaluation,” 223–224; Ruderman, Jewish Thought
and Scientific Discovery, 15, 20, 35–41.
77. Scholars differ on Nahmanides’ hermeneutical method. See among others, Abrams,
“Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 85–102; Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalis-
tic Tradition,’ ” 51–73; Idel, “Nahmanides” 15–96; Scholem, Origins, 384–385; Wolfson, “ ‘By
Way of Truth,’ ” 103–178.
78. Job 28:21; Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, I:167.
79. Berger, “Miracles and the Natural Order in Nahmanides,” in Rabbi Moses Nahman-
ides, 107.
80. Ibid., 112.
81. Idel, “ ‘We Have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 52–53; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ”
151–153.
82. Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 159.
83. Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 152.
84. Lev. 18:19.
85. Compare Zohar 2:3b.
86. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 90; Scholem, Origins,
384–385; Wolfson, “ ‘By Way of Truth,’ ” 105.
87. Abrams, “Orality in the Kabbalistic School of Nahmanides,” 96; Idel, “An Anony-
mous Commentary from the Circle of the Rashba,” 9–21; Idel, “Nahmanides” ; Idel, “ ‘We
have No Kabbalistic Tradition,’ ” 65–66.
88. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Sefer Me irat Einayim, 29.
89. Elsewhere, Shem Tov ibn Gaon explains that spirits of impurity were especially
attracted to the smell of human blood. Necromancers would therefore use bloodlike incense
in order to draw spirits of impurity to earth (Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 43a).
90. Bah.ya ben Asher’s commentary to Lev. 18:19, ed. Chavel, 2:486–487; compare his
commentary to Lev. 12:2, ed. Chavel, 2:472; Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b.
91. M Niddah 2:6; 9:11.
92. Genesis Rabbah, 15:7; 19:5, ed. Albeck, 1:139–140, 174.
93. Zohar 2:192a. See also Zohar 1:36a; 2:267b; 3:236a (RM); Menah. em Recanati,
Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d; Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c.
94. Jacob ben Sheshet, Sefer ha- Emunah ve-ha-Bitah.on, 89; Gottlieb, Ha-Qabbalah be-
Kitvei Rabbenu Bah.ya ben Asher, 102. On wine as a symbol of Judgment, see Bah.ya ben
Asher’s commentary to Gen. 9:20, ed. Chavel, 1:123.
95. Bah.ya ben Asher’s commentary to Gen. 19:32, ed. Chavel, 1:186–187; see also Mena-
h.em Recanati, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 81c.
96. Ibn Shueib, Beur al Perush ha-Ramban, 24c.
97. Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Isaac of Acre, Me irat Einayim, 154;
Menah.em Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 71c. Recanati also explains that “the mystery of
the sin of menstruation is that woman squeezed the grapes” (Perush al ha-Torah, 61c).
98. Moses de Leon, Sefer ha-Rimmon, 344–345. Note that while de Leon acknowledges
the danger of impure women gazing at mirrors, purified women, by contrast, are encour-
aged to look in mirrors in order to entice their husbands, in Zohar 2:3b.

99. Zohar 2:3b; Tishby, Wisdom of the Zohar, 3:1202–1203.
100. See, among others, Shem Tov ibn Gaon, Keter Shem Tov, 42b; Menah.em Tsioni,
Sefer Tsioni, 47c.
101. Note that one of the most comprehensive discussions of the origins of menstrual
impurity is attributed to the hero of the Zohar, Rabbi Shimon bar Yoh.ai.
102. Zohar 3:79a; compare al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85.
103. Note that there are twenty-seven forms of impurity specific to women. Samael
transmits twenty-four by means of the act of instilling. The discrepancy must be the result
of an exegetical need that the number of impurities correspond to the numerical equiva-
lent of the Hebrew va-evah, enmity, which is twenty-four.
104. Zohar 1:126b; 2:111a.
105. Pliny, Natural History, 8:63–64, 78–81; 28:80–85; Columella, On Agriculture and
Trees, 38–39; Aelian, Nature and Animals, 53; Aubart, “Aspects of Ancient Uterine Magic,”
431, 437. On medieval Hispano-Christian perceptions of the magical power of menstrual
blood, see Salisbury, “Fruitful in Singleness,” 98–99.
106. BT Shabbat 75b; Midrash Tanh.uma on Gen. 18:25, ed. Buber, 1:4:12, 92; see also
Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine, 102n51. Belief in the magical power of menstrual
blood was not limited to the talmudic period. According to a mid-thirteenth-century Ash-
kenazic magical manual, one could cure a woman’s excessive blood flow by tying a men-
struant’s hair to her bed (MS Parma 541, fol. 264b).
107. BT Sanhedrin 67a; BT Berakhot 53a; BT Eruvin 64b; BT Pesah.im 110a–111a; BT
Yoma 83b. For a general discussion of women and magic in the Babylonian Talmud, see Blau,
Das altjüdische Zauberwesen, 23–26; Fishbane, “‘Most Women Engage in Sorcery,’” 27–42.
108. BT Sanhedrin 91a; BT Niddah 17a; BT H H.agigah 3b.
109. Sifre, ed. Finkelstein, Pisqa 173, p. 220; compare BT Makkot 70b.
110. Of the six references to spirits of impurity in the talmudic corpus, four are associ-
ated with graveyards. The Talmud specifies graveyards as the site of illicit magical practice.
BT H.agigah 3b, BT Sotah 3a (twice), BT Sanhedrin 65b (twice), BT Niddah 17a. This
rabbinic understanding is a striking inversion of extra-talmudic magical techniques, in
which a magician’s purity was a prerequisite for success. See chapter 1.
111. Thanks to Jane Kanarak for this observation.
112. According to the medieval tosafists, the niddah must first cast the appropriate spell
(Tosafot on BT Pesah.im 111a, s.v. im tkhilat).
113. BT Pesah.im 111a.
114. Zohar 2:237. On Egypt as the locus of sorcery, see Zohar 3:70a; Wolfson, “Left
Contained in the Right,” 33–34.
115. Note the difference in degree: in the Talmud, practitioners of unsanctioned magic
use impure names, while in Kabbalah, Bilaam uses the language of seminal emission
(lashon qeri). See Sefer Toldot Adam, MS BN 841, fols. 246b, 254b; Midrash ha-Neelam
Ruth, 81c–d.
116. BT Sanhedrin 67a.
117. Compare Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth 81B, where the interpretation of “sorceress”
follows the grammatical model of the Talmud. BT Yebamot 103b states that when Israel

received the Torah at Sinai, their pollution ceased. This challenges Rabbi Yossi’s assertion
that all women are filled with the filth of magic, for they too would have been purified at
Sinai. Rabbi Isaac claims that the Torah was given to men alone, as it is written, “and this
is the law which Moses set before the sons of Israel” (Deut. 4:44). (Rabbi Isaac interprets
the Hebrew, bnei, ynb exclusively as sons, rather than inclusively as children.) Women were
not purified of the serpent’s filth through the granting of the Torah. To fend off skeptics,
Rabbi Yossi adds that impurity returned to both men and women after the sin of the
golden calf. See Zohar 1:126a–b; compare Zohar 1:37b, 52b–53a, 63b, 131b; Zohar 2:194a.
118. “Impurity is drawn to impurity just as like is drawn to like.” See Zohar 3:111a;
Cohen-Alloro, “Ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf,” 20, 85.
119. Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 81c; Englander, The Mystical Study of Ruth, 69; compare
Mopsik, Le Zohar: Le Livre de Ruth. See parallels in Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 38.
120. Note that one man walks between two women in Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth,
while one woman walks between two men in the Talmud; compare Zohar 2:3a–b.
121. Kern-Ulmer, “Power of the Evil Eye,” 344–353; Kern-Ulmer, The Evil Eye; Trachten-
berg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 54–56.
122. Zohar 1:126a–b. Compare Zohar H.adash Ruth 1:2; Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth,
87b; Moses de Leon, Sefer Nefesh ha-Hakhamah 5, 79; Massekhet Sofrim, 15:7.
123. Synopse #288.
124. Ibid., #83; compare #86.
125. Zohar 2:77b (Raza d’Razim). See also Zohar H.adash 35b, Zohar 2:272b (Tosafot),
Massekhet Kallah, ed. Higger, 140. On the marks caused by forbidden sexual relations, see
Zohar 2:75b (Raza d’Razim); on physiognomy and chiromancy, see BT Yoma 22b, BT
H.agigah 22b, Zohar 2:16b(RM).
126. God punishes Miriam and King Uzziah with scale impurity (Num. 12; 2 Chron. 26),
but the leper is not considered morally impure (Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 25).
127. See the many examples cited by Neusner, The Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism,
13–31.
128. Frymer-Kensky, “Pollution, Purification, and Purgation,” 399–410; Klawans, Rit-
ual and Moral Impurity, 26–31.
129. Leviticus Rabbah, 15:4; Neusner, The Idea of Purity in Ancient Judaism, 83–84; Kla-
wans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 96–104. In Castilian Kabbalah the “torah of the tsaraat”
is the “torah of one who brings forth a bad name.” For more on the relationship between
the impurity of tsaraat and sin in Castilian Kabbalah, see, among others, Zohar 3:47a, 55a;
for a more metaphorical treatment of tsaraat impurity, see Natan the Physician, Zikhron
Tov, MS Cambridge Add. 485, fols. 46b, 86b.
130. Klawans, Ritual and Moral Impurity, 98.
131. Note that according to Zohar 1:18a, the serpent was not initially evil. He was trans-
formed into a malevolent force when he himself was corrupted by a spirit of impurity.
132. See Zohar 1:48a, 53b–54, 58a, 100a, 167b; 2:111a; 3:41b, 47a, 55a; Moses de Leon,
Mishkan Edut, MS Cambridge Dd 4:2:1, fol. 33a; Cohen-Alloro, “ha-Magiah ve-ha-Kishuf
be-Sefer ha-Zohar,” 85. For the rabbinic sources of this idea, see BT Makkot 70b; Sifre
Deuteronomy, 173:12.

133. Zohar 1:169a–169b; compare Zohar 1:53a–54b, 129b, 131a, 141a–b; 3:47a, 55a–b;
Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot, ed. Meier, 145–147; Idel, “Zohar Translation of
R. David b. Yehuda ha-H.asid,” 84–98; MS Parma 1896/6, fols. 201a–203a; MS Parma 2654,
fols. 279b–280b.
134. For a metaphorical treatment of the zavah, see Zohar 3:54a and Eser Madregot shel
Tumah, MS BN 841, fol. 246b.
135. Zohar 3:33b (RM).
138. See chapter 2.
139. Isaac of Acre, Me irat Einayim, 154. On the relationship between women and the
Angel of Death, see BT Berakhot 51a.
140. BT Baba Batra 16a; Zohar 1:152b; 2:262b.
141. Zohar 1 53b–54, 114a; Isaac of Acre, Me irat Einayim, 154; MS Milano Ambrosiana
P47 Sup. 1.6, fol. 33b.
142. Zohar 1:36a.
143. Zohar 3:33b (RM). The Sefer ha-Meshiv describes the relationship between ritu-
ally impure women and Lilith as the “mystery of menstruants” (Idel, “Inquiries into the
Doctrine of Sefer ha-Meshiv,” 196, 198–199).
144. Some rabbis believed that it was inappropriate for women to sing alone in public.
According to RM 2:233b, a song sung by a woman (mizmor, rwmzm), creates a strange blem-
ish (mum zar, rz μwom).
145. Zohar 2:111a.
146. On the Zohar’s indebtedness to Ashkenazi halakhah in general, see Ta-Shma,
Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar; on the influence of the BdN specifically, see pp. 32 and 51.
148. Compare BdN 2:5, 17.
149. Rabbi Manh.ama in BdN 2:3n185.
150. Ibid., 2:3, 13; Nahmanides’ commentary to Gen. 31:35, ed. Chavel, 2:177.
151. While the BdN mentions the danger of the menstruant’s saliva (1:1, 3; 2:1, 3), it
makes no explicit mention of the hazards posed by her smell. Bah. ya ben Asher may have
inferred this danger from the H.anina ben Haqanah story in BdN 1:7, 9. For more on this
story and its relationship to the Hekhalot literature, see chapter 2. Zohar 1:190b also makes
note of the smell of menstrual blood, explaining that God requires the sacrifice of Rosh
ha-Shanah “to cause the serpent to pass and to perfume one (feminine) who needs
it. . . . It is therefore written, ‘Do not come near a woman during her period of impurity.’ ”
See Lev. 18:19.
152. BdN 1:2, 3, 4; 1:4, 6, 7; 2:4, 17; 3:4, 27.
153. Ibid., 1:2, 3.
154. Zohar 2:3a.
155. Ibid.
156. Ibid., 2:4 16; 1:4, 5. Trachtenberg, Jewish Magic and Superstition, 129, 191.
157. Zohar 3:49a; Liebes, “How the Zohar Was Written,” 119–120.

158. Zohar 3:79a; Zohar 1:190b; Ben Amos, “On Demons,” 36.
159. On the canonization of the Zohar, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia.
160. Gutwirth and Dolader, “Twenty-Six Jewish Libraries from Fifteenth-Century
Spain,” 27–53. Thanks to Judah Galinsky for this reference.
161. On the proliferation of popular halakhic treatises in late thirteenth- and fourteenth-
century Catalonia and Castile, see Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 305–327;
Ilan, “Jewish Community in Toledo,” 65–95; H.allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar into the
Realm of Halakah,” 413. H.allamish warns not to overemphasize the halakhic influence
of the Zohar because the authors of the Zohar were not halakhists and they did not
share their esoteric teachings with the populace. Nonetheless, even H.allamish concedes
that the Zohar influenced Iberian Jewish culture before the expulsion. H.allamish, Ha-
Qabbalah, 120–125.
162. This effort parallels contemporary Christian clerics who wrote treatises to educate
lay people, and itinerant preachers who roamed the country to reform Christian practice.
Galinsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 314–315. On Zoharic influences on Castilian
Jewish literature in the fourteenth and fifteenth century, see Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia,
140–179.
163. Meir ibn Aldabi, Shevilei ha- Emunah, 3:1, 114–115.
164. The author of Sefer ha-H.inukh is the subject of scholarly debate. See, among others,
Ta-Shma, “Author of Sefer ha-H.inukh” (in Hebrew), in Knesset Meh.qarim, 2:196–201; Ga-
linsky, “On Popular Halakhic Literature,” 319n44.
165. Sefer Ha-H.inukh, Parashat Tazria par. 166, p.200. He quotes the Ramban humoral
medical theories from his commentary on Leviticus 12:4. See parallel Parashat Metsora
par. 207, p. 342.
166. Ta-Shma, “Author of Sefer ha-H.inukh,” 2:202–208.
167. Isaac Aboav, Menorat ha-Maor, 3:6:4, 376–377.
168. On secrecy as a means to impose change, see Halbertal, Concealment and Revelation.
169. al Nakawa, Menorat ha-Maor, 4:85; Zohar 3:79a; Zohar 1:190b.
170. Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 155.
171. Abraham Saba, Tsror ha-Mor, Parashat Metsora, 3:11.
172. Menah.em Tsioni, Sefer Tsioni, 47c. For more on Tsioni and the Zohar, see Huss,
Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 96; Ta-Shma, Ha-Nigleh she-ba-Nistar, 81; Yuval, Ha-H.akhamim be-
Doram, 282–292.
173. Menah.em Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, 80d; Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 61c.
174. Recanati, Taamei ha-Mitsvot, #91, 80d; Zohar 1:190b.
176. Menah.em Recanati, Perush al ha-Torah, 65b; Joseph Hamadan, Sefer Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, MS Jerusalem 8o597, fol. 179a. Note that this idea is absent in Sefer Taamei ha-
Mitsvot, MS Oxford Michael 119, fols. 176a–178b. On the treatment of gilgul and illicit
sexual relations in Menah.em Recanati, Joseph Hamadan, and the anonymous author of
the Sefer ha-Qanah, see Kushnir-Oron, “Ha-Peliah ve-ha-Qanah: Yesodot ha-Qabbalah
she-ba-hem,” 100–104.

eight. Menstrual Impurity and Sufism
My work in this chapter has been made possible by the generosity of many scholars who
shared with me Islamic texts that are not widely available and, in some cases, also provided
translations that have been of great assistance and which I quote here. Marion Katz and
Barbara Von Schlegel have been particularly helpful, and I am grateful to have been able to
rely on their more than collegial scholarship of medieval Islamic law and classical Sufism.
1. For an overview of the Muslim purity system in English, see Katz, Body of Text;
Reinhart, “Purity/No Danger,” 1–24; Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 348–392.
2. Reinhart, “Purity/No Danger,” 9.
3. Sura 2:222, trans. Katz, Body of Text, 49.
4. Lev. 18:19.
5. Menstruants can touch the outside cover of the Qurān. For exceptions, see Bakhtiar,
Encyclopedia of Islamic Law, 23.
6. Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 364; Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger.”
7. Muslim 29:371, cited by Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 365.
8. Sura 2:222, trans. Katz, Body of Text, 49. There are many possible renderings, includ-
ing illness (Pickthall), impurity (Fakhry), and vulnerable condition (Asad).
9. Except the blood of martyrs.
10. Reinhart, “Impurity/No Danger,” 15.
11. The question of influence is a thorny one. As noted, there are similarities between
the laws in Sura 2:222 and Lev. 15:19, and the Qurānic language “do not approach” evokes
the language of Lev. 20:18. Yet it is difficult to prove with any certainty that Muh.ammad
was either influenced by Leviticus or was reacting against Jewish practice in Arabia.
12. Katz, Body of Text, 49; on the purity laws as an expression of a new covenantal sys-
tem, see 32–58.
13. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #297; compare 319, 320. The Center for Muslim–Jewish
Engagement at USC has compiled an invaluable web resource of H.adith in translation:
http://www.usc.edu/schools/college/crcc/engagement/resources/texts/muslim/search
.html.
14. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #299; see also #300, #298.
15. Abu-Dāwūd, book 1, #212; compare #213.
16. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #329; al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #296.
17. H.adīth Muslim, book 3, #587, #588, #589; Maghen, “Close Encounters,” 374–377;
Reinhart, “Impurity, No Danger,” 15.
18. al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #295; compare #294.
19. Ibid., #327.
20. Ibid., #293, in Katz, Body of Text, 199.
21. Katz, Body of Text, 198.
22. Sahīh Bukhārī, vol. I, book 6, #321.
23. On purity laws and the language of covenant see Katz, Body of Text.
24. Brohi, “The Spiritual Dimensions of Prayer,” 131–143; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions
of Islam, 155.

25. Malik’s Muwatta, book 15, #15.7.24.
26. Brohi, “The Spiritual Dimensions of Prayer,” 142.
27. This list is taken from a thirteenth-century textbook on Sufism, Abū Bakr al-
Kalābādhī, Doctrine of the Sufis, trans. Arberry. For an in-depth explanation of these stages,
see Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 98–148; for the formulation of a modern Sufi
shaykh, see Hoffman, Sufism, Mystics and Saints in Modern Egypt, 159–163.
28. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 169. On the use of dhikr in modern Egypt,
see Hoffman, Sufism, Mystics and Saints in Modern Egypt, 163–188.
29. al Qushayrī, Ar-risāla fī ilm at-taşawwuf, trans. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of
Islam, 167. For more on al Qushayrī, see Habil, “Traditional Esoteric Commentaries,” in
Islamic Spirituality, 1:32.
30. This generally remains true, except in Nubia, where women are excluded from dhikr
because of impurity. Hoffman reports that in modern Egypt women and men perform
dhikr in the same place, but the level of segregation often reflects the status of society:
lower classes mix more than do upper-class women. There is a woman’s branch of the Sufi
order Muh.ammadiyya Shariyah, which had its own dhikr in a mosque in Heliopolis led by
a woman (Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt, 166, 247).
31. Katz, Body of Text, 199. Katz explains that some Muslim legists were concerned lest
menstruating women lose merit if they neglect the salāt and therefore obligated women to
perform some type of devotion during the ritual prayers. Body of Text, 260n143. Compare
the h.adīth that states women are deficient in their religion because they cannot pray or
fast while menstruating; see al-Bukhārī, vol. 1, book 6, #301. This contrast was also noted
by Tritter (17), but in #318, Muh.ammad does not require his wives to make up their
prayers.
32. The Subtle Qurānic Allusions, 178, in Tritter, “The Mufasirun and the Menstruant.”
33. For a comprehensive overview of women in Sufism, see Chishti, “Female Spiritual-
ity in Islam,” in Islamic Spirituality; Elias, “Female and Female in Islamic Mysticism”;
Hoffman, Sufism, Mystics, and Saints, in Modern Egypt, 226–254; Nurbakhsh, Sufi Women;
Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam; Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman: The Feminine in
Islam; Smith, Rabia; as-Sulamī, Early Sufi Women, trans. Cornell.
34. Sura 2:228; my emphasis.
35. Sura 4:1; 7:189; Hoffman, Sufism, Mystics, and Saints in Modern Egypt, 228.
36. Ibid., 227.
37. Julie Marcus, by contrast, derives from this that pollution concepts have the effect
of preventing women from regular contact with God and of regularly pushing women
outside the community of believers. For her very different approach, see Marcus, “Islam,
Women, and Pollution in Turkey,” 213–214.
38. Rūmī, The Mathnawí, 2:1755, 311.
39. Ruzbehān, Sharh-e shathiyāt, 561, cited in Nurbakhsh, Sufi Symbolism, 2:130.
40. Nurbakhsh, Sufi Symbolism, 3:75.
41. Rūmī, The Mathnawí, 2:1797–1800, 314.
42. Thurkill, Chosen among Women: Mary and Fatima in Medieval Christianity and Shiite
Islam.

43. Chishti, “Female Spirituality in Islam,” 210–211; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Is-
lamic Mysticism,” 212–213; Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 19; Smith, Rabia, 113–138.
44. On the historicity of Rabīa, see Smith, Rabia, 20; Sells, Early Islamic Mysticism,
152.
45. as-Sulamī, Early Sufi Women, trans. Cornell, 90.
46. Ibid.
47. Ibid, 106.
48. Cornell, Early Sufi Women, 60; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 209–210.
49. ibn Attār, Tadhkirat al Awliyá, 59, cited in Smith Rabia, 21; Hoffman-Ladd, “Mysti-
cism and Sexuality in Sufi Thought and Life,” 83; Smith, Rabia, 27n20. Compare early
modern Judaism, when uneducated men were described as “men who are like women”;
see Weissler, Voices of the Matriarchs, 54–59.
50. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 77.
51. Ibid., 79.
52. Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 211.
53. Susan Bordo, Unbearable Weight, 5.
54. On gender symbolism in Sufism, see Malamud, “Gender and Spiritual Self,” 89–117.
56. Ibid., 79–80.
57. ibn Attār, The Speech of the Birds, trans. Peter Avery, 2:1803–1814, 161–162. Thanks
to Marion Katz for this reference.
58. Displays of supernatural powers were frowned upon, and Sufi masters considered
these acts obstacles to spiritual advancement. The distaste for “shopkeeper sheikhs” is evi-
dent in the h.adīth “that miracles are the menstruation of men.” Just as menstruation sepa-
rates a husband and wife, miracles separate God from the mystic. Annemarie Schimmel
attributes this symbolic transfer of menstruation to men to Indian Muslims — a signifi-
cant fact because male menstruation was part of Indian folklore (Mystical Dimensions of
Islam, 212).
60. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 427.
61. Wemple, Women in Frankish Society; Brooten, Women Leaders in the Ancient Syna-
gogue; Smith, Rabia, 141–165.
62. Hoffman-Ladd, “Mysticism and Sexuality in Sufi Life and Thought,” 84–85.
63. Berkey, The Transmission of Knowledge in Medieval Cairo, 174–175.
64. Schimmel, My Soul Is a Woman, 23, 101–103; Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 430–431;
Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islamic Mysticism,” 215.
66. Austin, “Introduction to The Bezels of Wisdom,” 4, 7; Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions
of Islam, 431; Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 215.
67. Barbara von Schlegell, personal communication, September 24, 1998.
68. Elias, “Female and Feminine in Islam,” 223.
69. Katz, Body of Text, 145.
70. Schimmel, Mystical Dimensions of Islam, 167.

nine. Menstrual Impurity in Medieval Christianity
1. See among others, Selvidge, Women, Cult, and Miracle Recital; Reuther, “Women’s
Body and Blood,” 14–15.
2. Meens, “Ritual Purity and the Influence of Gregory the Great,” 31–33.
3. BT Niddah 31b.
4. Indeed, many scholars have gone further and understood the story to be emblem-
atic of Christian triumph over rabbinic patriarchy. See, among others, Selvidge, Women,
Cult, and Miracle Recital; Reuther, “Women’s Body and Blood: The Sacred and the Impure,”
14–15. For a very different interpretation, see Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 191, 194–5; com-
pare Nugent, “Bodily Effluvia and Liturgical Interruption,” 49–70.
5. The contemporaneous tendency to equate Galilean synagogues with the Temple
may be a response to this Christian development (Fine, This Holy Place, 99; compare
Schwartz, Imperialism in Jewish Society, 215–239; Nibly, “Christian Envy of the Temple, 97–
123, 229–240; Branham, “Sacred Space,” 63–65, 70).
6. Branham, “Sacred Space,” 70.
7. Canon IV, II, cited in R. Kraemer, Maenads, Martyrs, Matrons, Monastics, 43; Cohen,
“Menstruants and the Sacred,” 288; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity; 196; Taft, “Women at
Church in Byzantium,” 74–75.
8. The texts suggest that women absented themselves from the sacred because they
believed that the Holy Spirit abandoned their bodies upon the advent of their flow and
was dispossessed by an impure spirit. The author of the Didascalia argues that the wom-
en’s argument is theologically unsound because the Holy Spirit will not abandon those
who have been baptized. The Didascalia, moreover, does not prohibit sexual relations
with menstruants. See Voobus, Didascalia Apostolorum, 244; Cohen, “Menstruants and
the Sacred,” 289–290; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 173; Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 3.
9. Levin, “Eastern Orthodox Christianity,” in Handbook of Medieval Sexuality, 329–343;
Levin, Sex and Society in the World of the Orthodox Slavs, 169–170; Branham, “Sacred
Space,” 75; Taft, “Women at Church in Byzantium,” 75.
10. Though menstruating nuns were barred from religious ceremonies, menstruating
abbesses were, at times, permitted to attend services from the galleries of their monastery
churches. Taft, “Women at Church in Byzantium,” 59, 63–72; Gerstel, “Painted Sources for
Female Piety in Byzantium,” 89–111.
11. Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 31–33.
12. Irish exegetes interpreted the Bible more literally than their counterparts on the
continent and may have entertained very different notions about purity and impurity. It is
possible that the Anglo-Saxons whom Augustine intended to convert to the Roman rite
practiced menstrual customs learned from the Irish church (Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Supersti-
tion,” 282–284). One of the battles for the hegemony of the British church is played out
through the notion of impurity. On early medieval Irish exegesis of Leviticus, see Smalley,
“An Early Twelfth-Century Commentator on the Literal Sense of Leviticus,” 78–99.
13. On the different versions of the Libellus, see Meyvaert, “Bede’s Text of the Libellus
Responsionum,” 15–33; Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 31–33; Friesen, “Answers and Echoes,” 153–172.

The Libellus’ authenticity has been called into question because the actual letter does not
appear among Gregory’s official papal letters, yet even those who consider its provenance
spurious cannot deny its influence throughout the Middle Ages.
14. Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 4; McCracken, The Curse of Eve, 67–68.
15. Colgrave and Mynors, trans., Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People, 1:27,
94–95.
16. In his commentary on Ezekiel, Gregory allegorizes menstruants as symbols of sin
(noted by Elliot, Fallen Bodies, 178n73). Dyan Elliot offers a very different interpretation
of medieval Christian conceptions of menstruation in her Fallen Bodies, a fascinating study
of pollution and demonology in the Latin West.
17. Note that Gregory was not asked about sexual intercourse with menstruants.
18. Colgrave and Mynors, trans., Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, 1:27, 94–95.
19. Gregory tacitly endorses the levitical laws of baal qeri but is unwilling to acknowl-
edge his debt to a Jewish practice. He self-consciously insists that his interpretation is
allegorical and that it stems from Stoic rather than from contemporary Jewish practice.
The rabbis offer four possible interpretations for a baal qeri: an ejaculant in intercourse,
a man with gonorrhea, an onanite, and one who has had a nocturnal emission tradition
(PT Yoma 8:1:44d; M Berakhot 3:6; BT Niddah 35b; Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 107).
Gregory significantly chooses the most narrow reading. Palestinian rabbis similarly de-
fined the baal qeri as an ejaculant in intercourse. It is possible that Gregory’s interpreta-
tion throws light on the practices of early medieval Italian Jewry, who drew from Pales-
tinian customs.
20. Bischoff and Lapidge, Biblical Commentaries from the Canterbury School, 5–8;
Lapidge, “Career of Archbishop Theodore,” in Archbishop Theodore, 1–29.
21. Penitential of Theodore, XIV:17, 18, in Medieval Handbook of Penance, 197.
22. Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 36.
23. Meens, “Questioning Ritual Purity,” 178.
24. Lapidge, “The Career of Archbishop Theodore,” 6.
25. Herren, “Irish Biblical Commentaries before 800,” 395. Theodore was also stringent
with regard to food purity. Meens, “Pollution in the Early Middle Ages,” 3–19.
26. Firey, “Letter of the Law,” 211.
27. Meens, “Ritual Purity,” 38.
28. Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Superstition,”’ 287.
30. Meens, “Aliud Benitenciale,” 19.
31. Regino of Prüm, Reginonis libri duo de synodalibus, 160; Meen, “Questioning Ritual
Purity”; Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 77.
32. Women were often barred from entering monastic churches, though certain mon-
asteries established special women’s churches outside their walls to accommodate them
(Schulenberg, “Gender, Celibacy, and Proscriptions of Sacred Space,” 355).
33. Levin, “Eastern Orthodox Christianity,” in Handbook of Medieval Sexuality; Levin,
Sex and Society in the World of the Orthodox Slavs, 169–170. The barring of menstruants from
Byzantine Rite churches is discussed later in the chapter.

34. Early Irish monks preserved a style of Christianity independent of Rome. The
many proscriptions against having sexual relations with menstruants in the Irish peniten-
tials may reflect Irish penchant for literal exegesis. Although many of these interpretations
are now lost, vestiges of a literal approach may be found in the penitentials.
36. Penitential of Cummean II:30, in Medieval Handbooks of Penance, 105.
37. Brundage , Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 601; Rieder, “Between the Pure and Pol-
luted,” 21–24.
38. Nie, “ ‘Contagium’ and Images of Self in Sixth-Century Gaul,” 251, 252n18.
39. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 163; compare note 19.
40. Church authorities, like the rabbis, wrote about women as they related to men
(Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,” 79–93; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 165).
41. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 155.
42. Ibid., 160, 162.
43. Ibid., 155.
45. See discussion of Rabanus of Mainz, below.
46. Penitential literature during the tenth and eleventh centuries was written and cop-
ied for episcopal use rather than as pastoral guides for the laity (Hamilton, The Practice of
Penance: 900–1050, 45–46).
47. For the debate on the origins of the genre, see Tentler, “Summa for Confessors as
an Instrument of Social Control,” 103; Boyle, “Summa for Confessors as a Genre, and Its
Religious Intent,” 126; Tentler, “Response and Retractatio,” 131–137.
48. Payer, Bridling of Desire, 110; Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 142–155.
49. See chapter 7.
50. Robert of Flamborough, Liber Poenitentialis; see Book 4:226, p. 195 : “Many lepers,
epileptics and children bearing themselves badly are generated during menstruation and
pregnancy.”
51. Ibid., Book 5:288, p. 238.
52. Peter of Poitier, Summa, XII, 17, cited in Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,”
88; see parallels in Thomas of Chobham, Summa Confessorum, VII, 2a, 356; Robert of
Flamborough, Liber IV, 226, 197–198; Murray, “Gendered Souls in Sexed Bodies,” 88n51;
Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 142–155.
53. Peter of Poitier, Summa, XII, 17, cited in Murray, “Gendered Souls,” 88.
54. Peter’s familiarity with Jewish practice is especially notable because he was a canon
of St. Victor, the Parisian abbey famous for its interest in Rashi’s exegetical techniques.
55. Rufinus, Summa, 16, in A History of Women and Ordination, 104n84.
56. By contrast, Rufinus’ contemporary, the Bolognese canon lawyer Huguccio, stated
that it is a mortal sin to have sexual relations with a menstruant. Therefore, if a wife were
a menstruant, a husband should not pay the marriage debt unless he believed that she
would commit adultery. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 283.
57. On rabbinic understandings of “spoiled blood,” see chapter 7.

58. On Isidore’s sources, see MacLehose, “Nurturing Danger,” 9; Payer, Bridling of De-
sire, 107.
59. Cadden, Meaning of Sex Difference, 49.
60. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, XI, 1.140–141, trans. Sharpe, “Isidore of Seville,” 48;
Rabanus of Mainz, De Rerum Naturis, 6:243b–244b; Patrologia Latina, vol. 111:174–175.
61. Translation by Payer, Bridling Desire, 107–108. Niccoli suggests that faulty Latin
translation of IV Ezra produced an association between menstruating women and mon-
strous births in the Christian tradition. The original Hebrew or Aramaic reads, “women
will give birth to monsters” as a harbinger of the end of days. The Latin translation reads
“mulieres parient menstruatae monstra,” “menstruating women give birth to monsters.”
Niccoli, “ ‘Menstruum Quasi Monstruum,’ ” 20; Payer, Bridling Desire, 233n126; Jacquart
and Thomasset, Sexuality and Medicine, 74, 89; Thomasset, “The Nature of Women,” 54–58,
65–66. The association between sexual relations with menstruants and leprosy first ap-
pears in the Jewish tradition in Leviticus Rabbah — a work almost contemporaneous with
Jerome (Leviticus Rabbah, 16; Numbers Rabbah 9; BdN 1:2, 1:4, 6; Efraim bar Shimshon,
Perush al ha-Torah, 2:19). Marienberg suggests that the Jewish position precedes and in-
fluenced Jerome (Niddah, 113–120). On Jerome’s interaction with Jews, see H. Sparks,
“Jerome as Biblical Scholar,” in The Cambridge History of the Bible, 1:515.
62. Book of Vices and Virtues ed. Nelson, fol. 96b; 217, 248.
63. Payer, The Bridling of Desire, 108. For the many Jewish parallels, see chapter 7.
64. Raymond of Peñafort, Summa on Marriage, ed. and trans. Pierre Payer.
65. John of Freiburg, Summa Confessorum, 4:2q45 (220vb), cited by Payer in Bridling of
Desire, 230n118. For more on John of Freiburg, see Boyle, “Summa Confessorum of John
of Freiburg,” 245–268.
66. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society; Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 132–194.
67. Thomas of Chobham is very strict with regard to seminal emissions as well. Summa
Confessorum, ed. Broomfield, 7:2:2:3, p. 339.
68. Robert of Flamborough, Liber Poenitentialis, ed. Firth, 5:286.
69. Among the many authors who have devoted studies to virginity in Christianity,
see Brown, “Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” in Christian Spirituality, 1:427–443;
Brown, The Body and Society; Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society; Castelli, “Virginity and Its
Meaning for Women’s Spirituality,” 61–88; Fonrobert, Menstrual Purity, 160–166.
70. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 102–104.
71. Ibid., 141; Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 27–43; Brundage, Law, Sex, and Society,
176–225; Morrison, “The Gregorian Reform,” in Christian Spirituality, 1: 177–193.
72. Rouwhorst, “Leviticus 12–15 in Early Christianity,” 81–93.
73. Gorman, “Commentary on the Pentateuch Attributed to Bede,” 61–108.
74. Bede, In Pentateuchum Commentarii, chap. 15, Patrologia Latina, vol. 91.
75. Laistner, Thoughts and Letters in Western Europe, 221.
76. Rabanus of Mainz, De Rerum Naturis, 6:243b–244b; Patrologia Latina, vol. 111:
174–175. On Rabanus’s method of exegesis, see Laistner, Thoughts and Letters in Western
Europe, 301–303; Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 43. The homology between

menstruation and idolatry is noted in Jewish sources as well. Midrash Tanh.uma on Lev.
15:25, ed. Buber, 3:5:14, 52n72; M Shabbat 1:9. Compare M Avodah Zarah 3:6; BT Shabbat
92b. See Rashi on Gen. 35:2. Rabanus of Mainz mentions Jews and Jewish practice in his
Bible commentary — a fact that leads some scholars to suggest that he spoke with Jews.
This scenario could suggest that Rabanus derived the homology between menstrual im-
purity and idolatry from Jews. Given that Rabanus’ commentary is essentially a compila-
tion of older sources, is it difficult to differentiate his own voice from uncited sources.
77. Firey, “The Letter of the Law,” 204, 208.
78. Gilbert, “Introduction,” IX; Laistner, Thoughts and Letters, 301, 306.
79. Abigail Firey, “Letter of the Law,” 204, 208.
80. Evans, Language and the Logic of the Bible, 43–45.
81. Ibid., 38, 43; Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 57–66.
82. Twelfth-century Christian scholars often consulted with rabbis to establish a cor-
rect reading of the Hebrew biblical text (Evans, “Masters and Disciples,” 254–260; Gib-
son, “Introduction to the Biblia Latina cum Glossa Ordinaria,” IX, n31; Grabois, “Hebraica
Veritas and Jewish-Christian Intellectual Relations in the Twelfth Century,” 613–634;
Smalley, Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages, 47, 52–55). This instance does not necessarily
reflect a twelfth-century encounter with Jews because the reference to Jewish practice is
a verbatim borrowing from Rabanus of Mainz (Expositiones in Leviticum, 5.2, Patrologia
Latina, vol. 410). Furthermore, it is impossible to ascertain whether Rabanus himself
witnessed Jewish practice, because he often quotes directly from sources without cita-
tion. It is noteworthy that Hugh of St. Victor, who did consult with Jews, skims over Le-
viticus 15.
83. Smalley, “An Early Twelfth-Century Commentator on the Literal Sense of Leviti-
cus,” 78–99.
84. There is no critical edition of the Historia Scholastica. A later interpolation identi-
fies the zavah with the woman with a blood flow in the gospels and writes: “Whence too
it was said by the Lord to a woman discharging blood, after she was cured: ‘Go, and sin no
more ( John 8).’ Through which it is clear that the disease had befallen her because of her
own sin.”
85. Patrologia Latina, vol. 198:1208–1209. Consider the following later interpolation:
“The Hebrews recount that if anyone sleeps with a woman on the first day of her men-
struation, and a child is conceived, and lives, within ten years it shall be leprous. But if he
does so on the second day, the child will be leprous by the twentieth year and so on until
the seventh day” (1208d).
86. Ibid.
87. Ibid., 1099c.
88. Peter Comestor, Historia Scholastica, Patrologia Latina, vol. 198:1205a–d. Comestor
explains that even with such clear evidence, “the Hebrews nevertheless believe that chil-
dren do not have sin.” Peter’s familiarity with Jewish rejection of original sin may suggest
contact with Jewish scholars.
89. Book 19:140. Compare to the penitentials of the German Pietists, discussed in chap-
ter 3.

90. There are no extant critical editions of Ivo’s Decretum. See Patrologia Latina, vol.
161:15, 150, 891.
91. See Bruce Brasington’s comparison of the Decretum and the Panormia at http://
project.knowledgeforge.net/ivo/decretum/idsort_1p0.pdf (accessed 2005).
93. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 43–69; Miramon, Les “Donnes” au Moyen Age, 152–
154. Thanks to Elisheva Baumgarten for this reference.
94. Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 190.
95. Brundage explains that Gratian was largely successful until 1350, when the state
courts began asserting legal control over citizens’ sexuality (Law, Sex, and Christian Soci-
ety, 579).
96. Ibid., 235–255.
97. C33 q. 4, c. 7, cited in Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society, 246.
98. Ibid. On the increased interest in marriage laws in the Middle Ages, see 260–288;
and Elliot, Spiritual Marriage 142–155.
99. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Medieval Christian Society, 242.
100. Peter Lombard, Sentences, 4:32, 451–456; Marcia Colish, Peter Lombard, 2:658–
662.
101. Payer, Bridling of Desire, 106. Gratian does quote Gregory: “so, too, even when they
have not given birth, they should certainly be prevented from having sexual relations
with their husbands when they are undergoing their usual flow of menstruation” (Decre-
tum 5 c. 2).
102. John of Freiburg, Summa Confessorum, 4:2 q. 45 (220vb), cited by Payer in Bridling
of Desire, 230n118.
104. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 150–151; Payer, Bridling of Desire, 106.
105. Brundage, Law, Sex, and Christian Society , 451.
106. Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 150–151.
107. Gratian, Treatise on the Laws, D.6.C.3.1, p. 21.
108. Gratian was familiar with penitential laws and according to Payer is indebted to
Theodore with regard to his stance on sexual relations with one’s wife when she is adulter-
ous: C32, q. 1, c. 6; Payer, Sex and the Penitentials, 114.
109. Interestingly, Meens notes that the discrepancy between Rufinus and Gratian
echoes the earlier disagreement between Theodore and Gregory. Meens, “ ‘A Relic of Su-
perstition,’ ” 290.
110. Bynum, Jesus as Mother, 172; Bynum, “Religious Women in the Later Middle Ages,”
121–139; McGinn, “Changing Shape of Late Medieval Mysticism,” 201–205; Schulenburg
“Sexism and the Celestial Gynaeceum from 500 to 1200,” 122, 127, 131n11.
111. For a review of the many theories, see Bynum, “Religious Women in the Later
Middle Ages,” 122–129.
112. It is interesting to note that in the Byzantine church, where menstrual laws are still
followed, there are comparatively few female saints (Talbot, Holy Women of Byzantium,
x–xiii).

113. Atkinson, “ ‘Precious Balsam in a Fragile Glass,’ ” 131–143.
114. Newman, Sister of Wisdom: St. Hildegard’s Theology of the Feminine, 119.
115. Ibid., 118.
116. Summa Theologica, 3:2698 (Supplement Q. 39, srt 1); Brown, “The Notion of ‘I will
make Mary Male,’ ” 24–29.
117. The female saints most venerated in the Middle Ages were also overwhelmingly
virgins. Newman, “Flaws in the Golden Bowl,” 21, 28.
118. Restrictions against women learning actually increased between the twelfth and
fourteenth centuries. In order to gain authority they could not rely on book learning but
rather had to rely on the vision of God ( Jantzen, Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism,
169). On the association between vernacular theology and women’s mysticism in the later
Middle Ages, see McGinn, “Changing Shape of Late Medieval Mysticism,” 201–211.
119. Thomas of Chobham, who died between 1233 and 1236, is an exception.
120. Wood, “The Doctors’ Dilemma,” 721–722.
121. Bynum, Holy Feast and Holy Fast, 122–123, 138, 214, 275; for a different understand-
ing, see Lester, “Embodied Voices,” 195.
122. This understanding may have contributed to the resurgence of churching as a
purificatory measure from both the sin of concupiscence and from seminal pollution.
Although male theologians required churching as a rite of purification, many women em-
braced the custom to express their spirituality. Lee, “Purification of Women after Child-
birth,” 48; Rieder, “Between the Pure and Polluted.” On Jewish women’s acculturation of
the churching ritual, see Baumgarten, Mothers and Children, 105–116.
123. Elliot, Fallen Bodies.
124. Brown, “The Notion of Virginity in the Early Church,” 427–443, especially 434.
125. Dyan Elliot adapts Mary Douglas’s formulation that impurity is matter out of place
to the reformers’ attitude toward celibacy: “Women were the matter that was out of place
in the reformers’ vision; the dirt that imperiled sacerdotal purity. And so, like dirt, they
were ruthlessly set to one side” (Elliot, Spiritual Marriage, 102).
conclusion
1. My allusion to Marina Warner’s Alone of All Her Sex: The Myth and Cult of the Virgin
Mary is deliberate. In a separate study, I argue that the Zohar describes Sarah as immacu-
late in response to the symbol of Maria Immaculata. See Koren, “Immaculate Sarah.”
2. The Zohar interprets this verse metaphorically to demonstrate the significance of
man’s origins. “The rock whence you are hewn” refers to the penis and the “pit from which
you were dug out” refers to the womb.
3. Zohar 1:122a; compare 1:124b; and Joseph Gikatilla, Shaarei Tsedeq, 14a. Genesis
18:11 reads: “Sarah stopped (h.adal) having the periods of women.” Later exegetes ignore
the plain sense of the verse and interpret the Hebrew term h.adal as “begin.” This reading
suggests that the ninety-year-old Sarah had never menstruated before that moment. Mor-
dechai Aqiva Friedman attributes this new reading to Rabbi Meir and his school, which
taught that only those who observe menstrual laws will be blessed with sons. The BdN

(19) enlarges upon this interpretation, explaining that “when the matriarchs observed the
laws of niddah, their prayers were immediately answered [and they conceived sons].
Sarah was barren, her source was closed and her womb was sealed. Nonetheless, as soon
as she observed the laws of niddah, her prayers were answered” (Friedman, “Genesis 18:11
in the Midrash,” 95–102). Rather than privilege Sarah for observing menstrual laws, the
Zohar privileges Sarah for her amenorrhea.
4. According to Genesis Rabbah 72:6, all four matriarchs were prophetesses. In the
Zohar, the matriarchs Rebecca and Rachel also attained union with the Shekhinah (Zohar
1:140b), and the Holy Spirit rested on Leah (Zohar 1:157a); compare 1:168b. Nonetheless,
the Zohar considers Sarah’s spiritual status unique (Zohar 1:159b–160a).
5. Zohar 1:81b, 1:111b, 1:122b.
6. Zohar 1:117b.
7. Jacob Landau, Sefer Ha-Agur, 230 par. 1388. On Landau and the Zohar, see Huss,
Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 153.
8. H.atam Sofer, Hanhagot to Shulkhan Arukh, Orekh H.ayim, 88a cited by Dinary,
“Profanation of the Holy,” 35.
9. Har ha-Qodesh, 172, cited by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35.
10. Mishnah Berurah 7, par. 88. Joseph Karo urged women to avoid cemeteries because
they could cause harm to the world. Though he is silent on the cause of this danger, his
source, as noted by H.allamish and Huss, is the Zohar 2:196a. Joseph Karo, Beit Yoseph,
Yoreh Deah 359; H.allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 167; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 159; compare
Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35.
11. Sefer ha-Minhagim of H.abad 69, 2, cited by Dinary, “Profanation of the Holy,” 35.
12. For the historical development of this practice, see Dinary, “Profanation of the
Holy,” 21–22; BdN, 17n99.
13. Cohen, “Purity and Piety,”112.
14. Yedidiah Dinary compiled an exhaustive list of the laws that restrict menstruants’
access to the sacred in his Hebrew article “Profanation of the Holy” (13–37); see also
Cohen, “Purity and Piety,” 103–115.
15. H.allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar into the Realm of Halakhah during the Mid-
dle Ages”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-Raqia, 178.
16. Gries, Sifrut ha-Hanhagot, 76; H.allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 121. There are a few other
examples of mystical treatises that follow the well-known legal framework of Joseph Karo’s
sixteenth-century Shulh.an Arukh — most notably the Shulh.an Arukh falsely attributed
to Isaac Luria. Shulh.an Arukh ha-Ari is an abridgment of Jacob Tsemah.’s Sefer Nagid-u-
Metsaveh. Gries, Sifrut ha-Hanhagot , 87; H.allamish, Ha-Qabbalah, 123–125; Huss, Ke-Zohar
ha-Raqia, 178.
17. Yesh Skhar, 272, citing Zohar 2:111.
18. Ibid., 269, 272, citing Zohar 3:79a and 2:111.
19. H.allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-
Raqia, 178.
20. Teiburg, ha-Zohar be-Nigleh, 203, citing Zohar 3:97a (RM).
21. Ibid., 216, citing Zohar 1:90a.

22. Ibid., 105, citing Zohar 2:36a.
23. H.allamish, “Acceptance of the Zohar”; Ha-Qabbalah, 409; Huss, Ke-Zohar ha-
Raqia, 178.
24. Introduction to Shulh.an Arukh ha-Zohar.
25. Shulh.an Arukh ha-Zohar , 255 par.176; original source Zohar 3:97a (RM).
26. Ibid., 258–265, par. 198.
27. He cites the Zoharic passage discussed above as his source (1:126a).

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Index
Abraham (patriarch), 68, 87 Bah.ya ben Asher, 111–12, 120

Abraham ben David, 102 Bakhtin, Mikhail, 86
Abraham of Cologne, 58–59 basilisk. See serpent imagery
abstention. See chastity; menstruation; Baskin, Judith, 2, 51
sexuality and sexual relations Beraita d’Niddah (BdN), 28, 186n1;
Abu Aaron, 49 comparison with rabbinic law, 28–33;
Abulafia, Abraham, 201n34 Hekhalot literature/traditions and,
adepts, 15–17, 21, 68, 73, 116, 133 36–37, 41, 59; influence of, 43, 51,
Afriyya of Basra, 137 173; Kabbalah and kabbalists and,
Against Heresies, 75 118–20; view of menstrual impurity/
Ahriman, 89–90 menstruants, 29–33, 41–42, 69, 118–19,
Ahura Mazda, 89–90 122
Ain Sof, 64, 85 Biale, David, 6
Āisha, 130–31 biblical commentaries, 111, 122. See also
Albert, Ada Rapoport. See Rapoport- Leviticus: commentaries and exegesis;
Albert, Ada Christian, 158–64; Nahmanides,
Alfonso the Wise, 96 108–11; Recanati, 122
al Nakawa, Israel, 122 biology (theories), 103–4, 216n23. See
al-Qushayrī, 134–35 also Aristotle and Aristotelianism;
al-Thalabi, 87 Democritus; differentiation, sexual;
Altmann, Alexander, 57 Galen; gynecological theories and
amenorrhea and amenorrheacs, 138–39, gynecology; Isaac the Blind
170, 172, 218n55, 234–35n3 births, monstrous, 231n61. See also
Angelet, Joseph, 64, 89, 94, 210n26 progeny
Angel of Death, 114, 118 blessings. See prayers and blessings,
Anselm of Laon, 160 recitation of
arayot. See sexuality and sexual relations: blood, 21–23, 104, 184n46, 185n65, 217n38.
forbidden See also menstrual blood
Aristotle and Aristotelianism, 63–64, 101, body-spirit dichotomy, 138, 147
106–8, 216n21, 218n58 books (holy), 45–46, 50, 193nn14–15,
asceticism, 16, 37, 140–41, 143 195n45, 225n5
Augustine of Canterbury (archbishop), 147 Bordo, Susan, 138
Augustine of Hippo, 161 Branham, Joan R., 146
Avner of Burgos, 64 Brinner, William, 88
Azriel of Gerona, 72 Brody, Seth, 65
Brown, Peter, 171
Baalei ha-Nefesh, 102 Brundage, James, 152, 165, 167
baal qeri, the, 9, 19–21, 52, 180n50, 180n53, Burchard (bishop of Worms), 164–65
197n78, 229n19 Bynum, Caroline, 21, 169
277
canon law and legal compendia, 151, death, 6–7, 33–34, 112, 117–18, 172, 188n37.
153–54, 157, 164–68 See also Angel of Death; corpse
Canon of Regino of Prüm, 150–51 impurity
celibacy, 145, 156, 171 Decretum (Burchard), 164–65
chariot. See merkavah/Merkavah Decretum (Gratian; Harmony of Discordant
mysticism and mystics Canons), 157, 165–66
Charlemagne, 152 Decretum (Ivo of Chartres), 165
chastity, 145, 161. See also sexual relations, Deitsh, Yoseph Eliyahu, 175
forbidden; virginity de Leon, Moses. See Moses de Leon of
children, conceiving, 37–38. See also Guadalajara
procreation Democritus, 101
Christianity and Christians, 96 (See also demonic pollution. See menstruants;
clergy-laity dichotomy; mysticism and Samael
mystics, female: Christian); attitude to de Nie, Giselle, 152
ritual acts/purity, 126, 144–48, 174 (See De Rerum Naturis (On the Nature of
also menstrual laws; menstruation); Things), 159
British and Irish, 149–50, 228n12, 230n34; dhikr (form of Islamic prayer), 132–34,
monastic, 51; reforms (See clerical re- 142–43, 226n30
forms); science and, 98; Syrian, 102 Didascalia Apostolorum, 146
churches, 144–52, 168 differentiation, sexual, 100–102. See also
churching ritual, 234n122 gynecological theories and gynecology
church reforms. See clerical reforms Dionysius (bishop of Alexandria), 146
circumambulation, 131–32, 143 distana. See menstruants
clergy-laity dichotomy, 157, 167, 170 divine, the: access to, 1, 4–5, 17–18, 133–34,
clerical marriage, 157, 165 174; barriers to, 2, 10–11, 16–18, 26–27,
clerical reforms, 156–57, 164 37, 42, 51–52, 136, 193n14; emulation of,
clothing, 82–83, 208n49, 208n55 43, 70–71; female and male aspects,
Cohen, Shaye, 55 57–58, 60. See also Shekhinah; Yesod
College of Montpelier, 102 divine harmony/union, 67, 70, 76–81, 133
Comestor, Peter, 163–64, 232n88 divine name, 26, 40–42, 71, 74; contem-
concupiscence, 145, 148–49, 160–61 plation of/meditation on, 58, 133–34;
Conference on the Birds, 139–40 Hekhalot literature/traditions and, 42;
confessional manuals. See summa Pietist esoteric theology and, 53; ritual
confessorum acts/purity and, 69, 202n49
corpse impurity, 31–33, 118, 188n32 divine vision, 72, 74. See also mystical
Corrector, The, 164–65 vision; Shekhinah
creation accounts, 55–56, 79 divine world, 75–77, 81, 206n21, 206n24
cults, Near Eastern, 105, 188n37 Douglas, Mary, 6, 95–96
Cummean, penitential of, 151 dualism and duality, 100, 138–39. See also
Shekhinah
Dan, Joseph, 15
Dead Sea sects. See Qumran community education of women. See women’s
and literature education
278 · Index
Eilberg-Schwartz, Howard, 95 Gikatilla, Joseph, 64–67, 72–73, 94–95
ejaculation, 9–10, 19–20, 51–52, 132. See Gilbert the Universal, 160
also baal qeri, the; seminal pollution Glossa Ordinaria, 157–61, 164
Eleazar of Worms, 49, 52–56, 58 God and Godhead, 86. See also divine, the;
Eliade, Mircea, 5 sefirot/sefirotic realm
Elliot, Dyan, 157, 234n125 grape and wine imagery, 111–12
entries, mystical, 73, 204n77 Gratian, 157, 164–69
eternal flame, the, 45 Greek culture and science, 98–100, 102,
Etymologies, 154–55, 159 154–55
Eve, 89–90, 111–12, 172 Gregorian reforms. See clerical reforms
evil and evil inclination, 34, 84–89, 94–95, Gregory (pope), 147–51, 229n19
116–17, 188–89n41. See also spiritual Gregory of Tours, 152
status of women gynecological theories and gynecology,
exegesis. See biblical commentaries 103, 106. See also differentiation, sexual
exorcism, 36, 46–47, 87
extirpation. See karet h.adīth literature, 130–33
Ezekiel (prophet), 5–6, 15, 56–58, 64–65, H.afets H.ayim. See Kagan, Israel Meir
72–74, 204n73 Hāfiz Shīrāzī, 136
Ezra of Gerona, 103 H.agigah (Mishnah), 55–56
halakhah, 55, 121, 174, 198n83, 224nn161–162
faith and science. See science and theology Halakhot Gedolot, 57
family purity. See ritual acts/purity Hamadan, Joseph, 64, 79–82, 91–92, 97,
family purity laws. See menstrual laws 206n21
fanā (annihilation of the self into the H.anina. See Neh.unyah ben Haqanah
divine), 143 Harmony of Discordant Canons. See
female and male dichotomy, 138 Decretum (Gratian)
fetus, 37, 101–4, 153–55, 216n23 H.asidei Ashkenaz. See German Pietists
Finnian, Saint, penitential of, 152 H.atam Sofer. See Sofer, Moses
Firey, Abigail, 150 h.avurah story, 24–25, 37–39
Fonrobert, Charlotte, 10 Hekhalot literature and traditions, 2, 15,
food preparation and restrictions, 22, 68 39–41, 45, 173 (See also Qumran
Foucault, Michel, 3, 98 community and literature); Beraita
Four Books of Sentences, The (Libri d’Niddah (BdN) and, 41–42, 59; influ-
Quattuor Sententiarum), 157 ence of, 43; Kabbalah and kabbalists,
fruits, 76, 95 67; magic, sympathetic and, 25; purity
and purity rituals, 17–20, 22–27, 182n16,
Galen, 99–104, 106–7, 216n21, 217n29 184n55; Temple and Temple cult and,
Geh, 90 15–16
gender, fluidity of, 68, 202n43 Hekhalot Rabbati, 23, 37–38, 54
gender identity, 138–39 Hekhalot Zutarti, 45–46
German Pietists, 43, 173, 195n37; influence Hertz, Robert, 100
of, 49–50; menstrual laws and, 51–53, Hildegard of Bingen, 169–70
59–60; Merkavah mysticism and, 51–52 Hippocrates, 100–101, 106
Index · 279
Historia Scholastica, 163–64 isolation of menstruants. See menstruants:
holiness, 4–5, 41–42, 71, 182n31, 203n67 isolation of; separation from
Holiness Code, 7, 70 menstruants
holy communion, 168 Isserles, Moses, 174
Holy Letter, The. See Iggeret ha-Qodesh Ivo of Chartres (bishop), 165
Holy of Holies, 15, 17, 42, 46–47, 64–67,
87, 146, 173 Jacob ben Sheshet, 86
Huguccio, 167, 230n56 Jantzen, Grace M., 3
Jerome, 155, 231n61
Iberian peninsula, 120–22 Jewish mysticism. See mysticism and
ibn al-Arabī, Muh.yi l-Dīn, 141–42 mystics
ibn Aldabi, Meir, 121 Jews: Castilian, 96; Italian, 47, 49–50, 173,
ibn Attār, 138–40 193n3
ibn Khalīfa al-Washtānī, Muh.ammad, 134 John of Freiburg, 155, 166
ibn Shueib, 117 Judah the Pietist, 50–51, 54
ibn Tibbon, Moses ben Samuel, 103 Judgment, realm of, 83, 87–89, 99, 102, 112
Idel, Moshe, 63, 67, 76, 91
idolatry and idol worship, 34, 159, 161, Kaba, 143
231–32n76 Kabbalah and kabbalists, 63–65, 98 (See
Iggeret ha-Qodesh (The Holy Letter), 70 also Hamadan, Joseph; Nahmanides);
imitatio dei. See divine, the: emulation of Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) and, 118–20;
immersions, ritual, 80, 174–75. See also biblical, rabbinic, and Hekhalot tradi-
ritual acts/purity; ritual baths tions and, 66–67, 76; Castilian, 112,
impurity (See also corpse impurity; ritual 114, 118, 120–21; gynecological theories
acts/purity; separation from men- and, 103; lunar symbolism and, 78–79;
struants; sexuality and sexual relations: view of evil, 85, 89; view of menstrual
forbidden; sitra ah.ra: as barrier to impurity and menstruants, 66–67, 75,
divine pursuits): degrees of, 85–86; in 119, 173; view of women, 98
Islam (See purity and purity rituals: Kagan, Israel Meir, 174
Islamic); metaphor for evil, 84–85; karet, 110–11
moral and physical, 116–17 Katz, Marion, 129–31
inferiority, female, 98–101, 104, 106 Keter Shem Tov, 58–59
interpretation, biblical. See biblical Knesset Yisrael (Community of Israel),
commentaries 76–77
Interpreter of Desires, The, 140–41
Irenaeus (bishop of Lyons), 75 Laban, 162
Isaac Aboav, 121–22 Landau, Jacob, 174
Isaac of Acre, 90–91, 111, 118 land of Israel, 94, 110
Isaac the Blind, 63, 85, 99, 101–4, 119 Langer, Ruth, 57
Isidore (Bishop of Seville), 154–55, 159 Langermann, Tzvi, 109
Islam and Muslims: literature, 88, 127–35; law, Jewish. See halakhah
meditation and prayer, 132–34; ritual Law, Sex, and Christian Society in Medieval
acts/purity and, 48, 126, 174; Sunni, 129 Europe, 152
280 · Index
law codes, Christian. See canon law and medicine, 98, 102–3. See also science and
legal compendia theology
“Law of the Eternal God Is Perfect, The,” Meens, Rob, 149–50
109–10 Megillat Ah.imats. See Scroll of Ah.imaats
Laws of Niddah (Hilkhot Niddah), 105 memory, importance of, 39
left and right dichotomy, 100–103 Menorat ha-Maor (Aboav), 121–22
leprosy, 33, 108–9, 154–55, 222n129, 231n61 Menorat ha-Maor (al Nakawa), 122
Lesses, Rebecca, 36 menstrual blood, 99; association with
Leviticus, 105 (See also Holiness Code; death or poison, 7, 107–8, 117–18; fear
priestly sources); commentaries and of, 6, 115; magic and, 114–15, 221n106;
exegesis, 108–12, 147, 158–63; cultic polluting effect, 108; purgative effect,
and sexual restrictions, 66, 99 (See also 106; smell of, 41, 223n151
menstrual laws); penitential literature menstrual impurity: as barrier to divine
and prayers, 159 pursuits (See divine, the: barriers to);
Libellus Responsionum, 147, 149, 168, corpse impurity and, 31–33, 188n32;
228–29n13 Hekhalot literature/traditions and, 17,
Liber Poenitentialis, 153–54, 156 22–27, 38–39, 184n55; Islamic view,
Libri duo de synodalibus causis et disciplinis 128–32; Kabbalah/kabbalists’ view,
ecclesiasticus (The Collection in Two 173; moral pollution and, 117
Books), 164 menstrual laws, 94–95, 214n84 (See also
Lieberman, Saul, 36 ritual acts/purity: laws of); Beraita
Liebes, Yehuda, 64 d’Niddah and, 41–42; biblical, 7, 9, 41,
Lilith, 91, 118 179n36; Christian, 168, 171 (See also
Lombard, Peter, 157, 166 menstruation: Christian views and
Lubavitch Book of Customs, 174 practices); Pietist emphasis on, 51–54;
lunar symbolism, 78–79, 93, 211–12n49 Pisqei Niddah, 192n101; rabbinic, 7–9,
lust, 145, 149, 160–62, 167, 171. See also 179–80nn41-42; Zohar and, 94, 176
sexuality and sexual relations menstrual separation. See separation from
menstruants
magic, sympathetic, 18, 25, 114–16, menstruants, 29–35, 90, 104–5, 134, 162–63
187n24 (See also spiritual status of women);
Magnus, Albertus, 107 access to the divine/sacred, 1, 119,
Maid of Ludmir, 4 134–35, 165–66, 168–71, 174, 235n14;
Maimonides, 91, 103 association with evil/danger, 87–89,
male and female dichotomy, 138 111, 114–16, 120, 188–89n41, 220n89;
Marcus, Ivan, 54 books (holy) and, 45–46, 50, 195n45,
marital sex. See sexuality and sexual 225n5; disparagement of, 90, 105,
relations: sanctioned 217n46; isolation of, 81–82, 108, 121–22
marriage debt, 155, 166–67 (See also separation from menstru-
Mathnawī, 136–37 ants); ocular power, 109–10 (See also
matriarchs, 235n4. See also Rachel; Sarah menstruous eye/gaze); recitation of
Maurus, Hrabanus. See Rabanus of Mainz blessings and prayers, 31, 48, 187n22,
Mazda. See Ahura Mazda 226n31; sexual relations and (See
Index · 281
menstruants (continued) mystical vision, 55 (See also divine vision;
sexuality and sexual relations: forbid- Shekhinah); achieving, 52, 68–70,
den); treatment/view of Islam, 130–31, 198n89; impurity and, 58–59, 176;
142; view of mystics, 1–2, 99 prerequisites, 7, 15, 25, 41–42, 126
menstruation, 112–13; Christian views and mysticism and mystics, 63–64, 67–69 (See
practices, 144–45, 148, 151–56 (See also also Hekhalot literature and traditions;
menstrual laws: Christian); concupis- Kabbalah and kabbalists; mysticism
cence and, 160–61; cosmic/mystical and mystics, female); comparison of
significance of, 75–77; death and, 6–7, Muslim and Jewish, 141–43; obser-
33–34, 188n37; disease and, 33, 108; vance of commandments, 70, 197n75;
as evil, 87–90, 161; as exile, 93–94; psychology of, 2–3
idolatry and, 34, 159, 161, 231–32n76; mysticism and mystics, female: absence
male, 227n58; moon and, 78–79, in Judaism, 2, 126, 173, 176; Christian,
211–12n49; mythological underpin- 144–45, 169; examples, 3–4; Islamic,
nings, 89–90; Shekhinah (feminine 137–38
aspect of God) and, 75–83, 90–92
menstruous eye/gaze, 106–11, 219n64 Nahmanides, 63, 99, 104–6; Beraita
merkavah/Merkavah mysticism and d’Niddah and, 119; influence of Aris-
mystics, 15–16, 25–26, 36, 55–58, totle and others, 108, 110; influence on
72; German Pietists and, 51–52; Castilians, 112; students of, 111; Torah
Kabbalah/kabbalists and, 65–66 exegesis, 108–11, 120
Meroz, Ronit, 64 Natan the Physician, 71
Metatron, 38 natural law, 167. See also canon law and
Midrash ha-Neelam Ruth, 115 legal compendia
Milgrom, Jacob, 7, 9–10, 34 Nazirites, 206n24
Minnis, A. J., 170 Neh.unyah ben Haqanah, 23–25, 37–40
miqveh. See ritual baths necromancy. See magic, sympathetic
miracles. See mysteries, divine Neoplatonism and Neoplatonists, 64, 85
mirrors, 104, 106–8, 111 ner tamid. See eternal flame, the
Mishkan Edut, 92 Nestorian Christians. See Christianity
Mishnah, 6, 9, 55–56, 81–82 and Christians: Syrian
moon, the, 78–79. See also lunar Newman, Barbara, 169–70
symbolism niddah (menstrual laws). See menstrual
Moses ben Nahman. See Nahmanides laws
Moses de Leon of Guadalajara, 64–65, niddah (menstruant). See menstruants
71–72, 78, 92, 112 Niddah (tractate), 179n42
Muh.ammad, 130–32 Nitronai Gaon, 48
mysteries, divine, 55–56, 98, 110 Novellae on the Tractate Niddah
mystical books, 44–46. See also books (H.iddushim al Massekhet Niddah), 105
(holy)
mystical entries. See entries, mystical omer, 77–78
mystical knowledge, 39. See also divine, On Dreams, 106–7
the: access to ornamentation for menstruants, 82
282 · Index
Panormia, 165 Qumran community and literature, 6,
parturients and parturition, 9, 32–33, 102, 34–35, 182n16, 184n55
147–48, 151, 164 Qurāan, 128–35, 193n14, 225n5
Payer, Pierre, 150–51, 166
penitential literature and prayers, 150–53, Raaya Meheimna (RM), 81–83, 93, 117–18
164–65, 230n34; Leviticus and, 159; Rabīa al-Adawiyya of Basra, 137–40
Pietists and, 53–54, 197n69, 197n76; Rabanus of Mainz (bishop), 159–60,
summa confessorum (penitential 231–32n76
compendia), 153–54 rabbis: Rabbi Aqiva, 39; Rabbi Ishmael,
Peter of Poitiers, 154 24, 37–39, 191n71, 191n76; Rabbi
philosophy, Jewish, 63. See also science Shimon, 38; Rabbi Shlomo Yitsh.iaqi
and theology; traditions, esoteric (See Rashi and school of Rashi); Rabbi
physicians, 98, 103. See also Maimonides; Yoh.annan, 38
Nahmanides Rachel (matriarch), 162–63
Pietists. See German Pietists Rapoport-Albert, Ada, 4
Pines, Shlomo, 91 Rashi and school of Rashi, 47, 54–55,
Poenitentiale Vindobonense, 150 194n24
portals, mystical. See entries, mystical Rationales for the Commandments, 122
Power, Gender and Christian Mysticism Recanati, Menah.em, 66, 81, 111, 122–23
( Jantzen), 3 reforms. See clerical reforms
prayers and blessings, recitation of, 31, 48, Regino of Prüm (abbot), 164
187n22 right and left dichotomy, 100–103
priestly duties, 191n76 ritual acts/purity, 2–3, 11, 16, 96, 126;
priestly sources, 34–35. See also Leviticus angels and, 182n23; Christian view, 126,
procreation, 52, 166–67. See also children, 144–48, 174 (See also menstrual laws;
conceiving; sexuality and sexual menstruation); connection to the di-
relations: sanctioned vine (See divine, the: access to); laws
progeny, 154. See also children, conceiving; of, 9–11, 76, 180–81nn51-52, 180n55;
fetus spiritual status and, 174
prophecy and prophets, 17–18, 84–85, 170, ritual baths, 80–81, 174–75, 206n28
171. See also Ezekiel; Muh.ammad; Robert of Flamborough, 153–54, 156
spiritual status of women Rufinus, 154–55
purity, 42, 67–68; in Islam, 127–30, 136, Rūmī, 135–37
142, 225n11; physical (See impurity: Rūzbehān Bakli, 136
moral and physical; ritual acts/purity);
in Qumran community, 34–35; spiri- Saba, Abraham, 122
tual (See spirituality; spiritual status of sacred, the. See divine, the: access to; men-
women) struants: access to the divine/sacred;
separation from menstruants
Qalonimides, 49–50 sacred-sexual dichotomy, 148. See also sex-
qelippot (external shells or skins), 72–73, uality and sexual relations; Shekhinah
204n80 sakina, 88
qisas literature, 88 Salama, Umm, 130
Index · 283
salāt, 132, 135 divine, the: barriers to); view of Kab-
Samael, 91, 114–15, 117–18 balah and kabbalists, 66–69, 71, 118–19,
Sarah (matriarch), 68, 172–73, 234–35n3, 203n67
235n4 serpent imagery, 88, 90–91, 107–8, 219n64
Sar Torah, 16, 39, 98–99 serpent in Garden of Eden, 89–90, 172,
Satan, 118 211n45
Satlow, Michael, 10 sexual desire/libido. See concupiscence;
Schimmel, Annemarie, 139 sexuality and sexual relations
Schlesinger, Aqiva, 174 sexual differentiation. See differentiation,
Scholem, Gershom, 2, 75, 87 sexual
science and theology, 98, 102–3, 109, sexuality and sexual relations, 70–71, 123;
217n29 clerical reforms and, 164; discouraging,
Scroll of Ah.imaats, 44–46 82, 165; enhancing, 144, 152; forbidden,
Secret of the Nut. See Sod ha- Egoz 55–56, 66–67, 79, 99, 104, 110, 120,
secrets, divine. See mysteries, divine 164–65, 212–13n63; forbidden (by
Secrets of Women, 107 Christianity), 151, 154–56, 167, 171,
Secunda, Samuel, 90 230n34, 230n56; sanctioned, 70, 95,
Sefer ha-Agur, 174 130; sanctioned (by Christianity), 152,
Sefer ha- Emunah ve-ha-Bitah.on, 86 155–57, 165–67
Sefer ha-H.inukh, 121 Shabaka of Basra, 137
Sefer ha-Malbush, 53, 197n66 Shawāna, 137
Sefer ha-Merkavah, 44–45 Shaykhah, Qadiri, 141
Sefer ha-Qanah, 81, 123 Shefatiah, 46–47
Sefer ha-Rimmon, 78, 112 Shekhinah (feminine aspect of God),
Sefer ha-Roqeah., 52, 54 51–52, 67–74, 172–74, 204n75; dual
Sefer ha-Shem, 52, 55 nature, 87–88, 91–92, 94; exile of, 93–94;
Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh (The Book of the gender fluidity, 96–97, 214–15n97;
Zohar Revealed), 175 images of the impure concubine and
Sefer Taamei ha-Mitsvot (Book of Ratio- maidservant, 91–94, 213n66; menstrua-
nales for the Commandments), 79–80, tion and, 74–83, 90–92; sexual relations
97, 206n21 and, 77, 92
Sefer Tashaq, 97 Shem Tov ibn Gaon, 111, 220n89
sefirot/sefirotic realm, 64–65 Shimon bar Yoh.ai, 64, 91, 113
seminal pollution, 9–11, 16–27, 31, 54, 59. Shulh.an Arukh ha-Zohar (SAZ), 175–76
See also ejaculation sins, sexual, 116–17, 165. See also impurity,
separation from menstruants, 41–42, 99, ritual; sexuality and sexual relations:
108, 121–22, 176 (See also menstruants: forbidden
isolation of; sexuality and sexual re- sitra ah.ra (the other side), 85, 88–89,
lations: forbidden); Ashkenazic vs. 172–73
Sephardic practices, 48; Christian sitra masava, 85. See also sitra ah.ra (the
views and practices, 145–50, 159, 165, other side)
228n8, 228n10, 228n12; from the sacred, Smith, Jonathan, 5
45–49, 194nn26–27, 195n36 (See also social order, 96
284 · Index
Sod ha- Egoz (Secret of the Nut), 56–57 tetragrammaton. See divine name
Sod ha-Nah.ash (Secret of the Serpent), 94 Theodore of Tarsus (archbishop), 149–51,
Sofer, Moses, 174 165, 169
Solinus, Julius, 154–55 theology and science. See science and
Sophia, 75–76 theology
sorcery, 115. See also magic, sympathetic Thomas Aquinas, 170
soul, the, 4, 12, 58–59, 110, 135, 140 Thomas of Chobham, 154
spirits of impurity, 111–14, 118, 122, 220n89. Tiferet, 74, 78–80, 206n24. See also Yesod
See also Samael Tishby, Isaiah, 93–94
spirituality (See also divine, the: access Torah and Torah scrolls, 174–75, 207n35.
to; mysticism and mystics): paths to See also Leviticus
(Islam), 135–40, 142; paths to ( Juda- traditions, esoteric, 49–51
ism), 3–4, 18–19, 178n14 tsaraat. See leprosy
spiritual status of women, 2–3, 123, 156, 174 Tsror ha-Mor, 122
(See also menstruants: access to the
divine/sacred; mysticism and mystics, Urwa, 131
female; Sarah); in Christianity, 168–71, uterus, bicameral, 100–104
234n118; clothing and, 208n55; in Islam,
135–40, 142 vegetables, 22, 40–41
Sufis and Sufism, 127, 133–36, 139–43 venereal diseases, 109, 154
Summa Confessione, 154 virginity, 145, 169–71, 174. See also chastity
summa confessorum (manuals for priests Virgin Mary, 170
hearing confession), 152–53 Vital, H.ayim, 3–4
Summa Decretorum, 154
supernal female. See Shekhinah walnut imagery, 56–57, 72
Swartz, Michael, 36, 39 Weissler, Chava, 4
sword imagery, 88–89 wine imagery. See grape and wine imagery
synagogues, 29–30, 47, 54–55, 174, 198n84 witchcraft. See magic, sympathetic
Wolfson, Elliot, 41, 97
Talmud, 76–77 (See also Mishnah); com- women, 152 (See also inferiority, female;
parison with law in the BdN, 28–33; menstruants; separation from men-
menstrual blood and laws, 8–10, 16, struants; spiritual status of women);
24–25, 81–82, 118; view of magic, attitude toward, 98, 135, 137, 152,
114–15; view of sexual differentiation, 221–22n117; avoiding, 21–22, 25–26,
101–4 184n50; exclusion of, 84, 119, 138,
Teiburg, Moses H.ayim, 175 229n32; inclusion of, 139–41; re-
Temple and temple cult, 5–7 (See also sponsibility for death, 112, 118, 172
synagogues); Hekhalot literature/ women’s education, 177n7, 234n118. See
traditions and, 15–16; Jewish mysticism also spirituality: paths to (Islam)
and, 1, 64–66, 173, 200n11; separation
requirements, 7, 191n76 (See also divine, Yesh Skhar, 175
the: barriers to); transformation of, Yesod (male aspect of God), 71–72, 80, 172.
35–36 See also Shekhinah; Tiferet
Index · 285
Yisaskhar of Kremonits, 175 Meheimna; Sefer ha-Zohar ha-Nigleh);
Yosef ha-ba mi Shushan ha-Birah. See divine vision, 74; female impurity and,
Hamadan, Joseph 1, 75, 77–78, 116; influence of,
224nn161–62
zavah, the, 7, 179n36 Zoroastrian influences and practices,
Zeev Maghen, 129 208n49; kabbalists and halakhists and,
Zohar and Zoharic interpretations, 63–65, 91–92; menstrual laws/myths and,
68–69, 120–21, 172–76 (See also Raaya 89–91, 210–11n40
286 · Index

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HBI Series on Jewish Women

Shulamit Reinharz, General Editor

The HBI Series on Jewish Women, created by the Hadassah-Brandeis Institute,

The HBI Series on Jewish Women is supported by a generous gift from

Jehuda Reinharz, General Editor

The Tauber Institute Series is dedicated to publishing compelling and innovative

* A Sarnat Library Book

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University Press of New England is a member of the

For permission to reproduce any of the material in this book, contact

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Koren, Sharon Faye.

The publication of this book was generously supported by the Lucius N.

May you find no barriers

Part I: Early Jewish Mysticism

In this compelling new examination of Judaic mystical approaches to women’s

Sylvia Barack Fishman

I am thrilled to finally have the opportunity to publicly thank everyone who

An earlier version of chapter 5 appeared in “Kabbalistic Rationales for the

In the world of the Zohar, menstruation is antithetical to God. The biblical

“normative” jewish mysticism

why menstrual impurity?

menstruation in priestly and rabbinic law

the difference between

pursuing god through purity

18 · Early Jewish Mysticism

The Baal Qeri as Niddah

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 19

The Mystic as Niddah

recognizing menstrual impurity

the mysterious name of

Earthly Temple to Heavenly Temple · 27

The Beraita d’Niddah (BdN) is a collection of niddah laws and traditions

differences between rabbinic halakhah

Rabbi Yoh.annan said, “It is forbidden to inquire about a menstruant’s [lit-

the beraita d’niddah’s similarity to hekhalot

the heroes of the h. avurah story

Part Two — H.anina/ Neh.unyah

the menstruant and the name

The antagonism between menstrual impurity and divine pursuits suggested

The emphasis on human purity for mystical pursuits characteristic of the

the bdn on the mediterranean

the temple in ashkenaz

the bdn and the mysticism

50 · Early Jewish Mysticism

the niddah in the mystical

Menstruation and the Mystics of Ashkenaz · 51

sexuality in pietistic theology

the practical impact

The purity prerequisites for mystical practice in Hekhalot literature empha-

60 · Early Jewish Mysticism

maintaining purity for mystical praxis

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 69

menstruation and theurgy

Menstrual Impurity and Mystical Praxis · 71

the roots of the symbol

the shekhinah as menstruant in kabbalah

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 79

isolating the menstruating shekhinah

Myth of the Menstruating Shekhinah · 83

The correspondence between the terrestrial and the supernal menstruant is

impurity in the sefirotic realm