Jewish Daily 
Forward
 
 
The Jewish Goddess, Past and Present
Nonfiction
By _Jay  Michaelson_ (http://forward.com/authors/jay-michaelson/) 
Published May 05, 2006
 
Read more: 
http://forward.com/articles/1362/the-jewish-goddess-past-and-present/#ixzz34hb7cuto

 
 
‘The Da Vinci Code,” ..... is an old tale in new clothing: It is the  
story of the goddess, sometimes referred to as the “Divine Feminine,” the 
female  aspect of — or counterpart to — the familiar male God of the Hebrew and 
 
Christian Bibles. 
In Dan Brown’s phenomenal best seller, She appears as Mary Magdalene, Bride 
 of Jesus, whose identity was deliberately effaced by the church fathers. 
But  concealing the existence of the Divine Feminine is much older than the 
Holy  Grail. As scholars have shown, the Hebrew Bible itself condemns, 
marginalizes  and ultimately buries the veneration of female diety-images that 
were common in  ancient Israel. 
Based on the Bible, one might think that most Israelites were pious  
monotheists; yes, they came into contact with foreign gods and goddesses, and  
many strayed, but the Temple was the center of religious life, and the priests  
there maintained the covenant between the God in heaven and His people. 
Recently, however, archaeologists and biblical critics have revealed a far  
more complicated picture of how biblical Israelites lived their religious 
lives.  As exhaustively summarized in William Dever’s “Did God Have a Wife? 
Archeology  and Folk Religion in Ancient Israel,” most scholars now believe 
that the ancient  Israelite world was far less monolithic, and monotheistic, 
than the Bible  suggests. Household shrines, statuettes of male and female 
figures, and  inscriptions and carvings describing “YHVH and His Asherah” 
all point to a  decentralized biblical religion that was practiced largely 
within family  structures, and well beyond the strictures of Jerusalem’s 
orthodox elite. Some  scholars believe that this evidence points to an 
indigenous 
“goddess worship”  that regarded the biblical God as one half of a divine 
couple. Others say it  suggests the influence of non-Israelite religions. 
And still others, such as  Raphael Patai, whose enormously influential 1978 
book, “The Hebrew Goddess,”  arguably inaugurated the popular appropriation 
of this scholarship, believe that  the tradition of the Divine Feminine — a 
female half of God, or bride of God, or  earth-centered, body-centered 
counterpart to the sky god Yah — endured long  after the biblical period ended. 
Dever, professor emeritus of Near Eastern archaeology and anthropology at 
the  University of Arizona, begins his study by drawing a detailed portrait 
of  biblical Israelite life: Based on meticulous archeological research and  
imaginative analysis, Dever describes biblical Israel as an “economic 
backwater”  with sparse population, almost no literacy and mere survival as the 
 
all-consuming, and often elusive, goal. Moreover, in Dever’s view, the Bible’
s  long list of prohibited idolatrous practices “implies that the majority 
of  people, not just an easily ignored minority, were doing them — and, I 
would  argue, principally doing them in a family context, where women played a 
highly  significant role.” 
At the same time, Dever disputes the image of orgiastic “fertility cults,” 
 which he says were imagined by puritanical (and prurient) biblical 
theologians.  His book depicts a cult not of the sexual but of the maternal: a  
family-centered, women-centered veneration of Asherah, the “nursing goddess” 
of  the Israelites. He rejects the narrative of a sexual, sensual Canaanite 
paganism  that was replaced by a staid monotheism of the Israelites. Statues 
featuring  large-breasted women, for example, likely connoted not sex but 
nursing — not the  consort but the mother. As Dever notes, when ancient 
religion wants to depict  sexuality, like that of the goddesses Anat or 
Astarte, 
it does so in graphic  detail. 
Finally, Dever denies that Israelite monotheism was ever the dominant  
religion in pre-Exilic Israel, suggesting instead that there was a kind of  “
religious pluralism within the national Yahweh cult” — he notes the Prophet  
Jeremiah’s permission for women to continue their “domestic piety” — in 
which  veneration of feminine imagery was not “foreign” but indigenous. Many 
of these  images were not shunned but integrated, albeit in subtle disguises. 
Here’s one  rather shocking example from Dever’s book: Asherah’s tree was 
often drawn in the  form of pubic hair above the female genitalia — yet, as 
Dever observes, it also  looks suspiciously like the menorah. 
Dever’s book is a treasure trove of archaeological data and analyses of 
both  biblical text and society, though it is marred by endless sniping at 
other  academics and by boasts about Dever’s own theories. Dever also has a 
rather  selective reading practice: While he agrees with some biblical 
contentions  (regarding Rachel’s “household gods” and the idolatrous “high 
places,” 
both  confirmed by archaeology), he rejects others, denying, for example, 
the Molech  was actually the name of a foreign god. 
What Dever only touches on at the end, however, is how veneration of the  
goddess persisted long after the biblical period. His analysis of the Divine  
Feminine in Kabbalah — where She emerges as a central preoccupation — 
relies  almost completely on Patai and omits the best evidence for his own 
case: 
the  Zohar’s use of “Asherah” as a name for the Shechinah, the feminine 
aspect of  God. For the Kabbalah, uniting the transcendent masculine and the 
immanent  feminine is a core religious act, and for the many who welcome “the 
Sabbath  Queen” every Friday night, images of the Divine Feminine are not 
hard to  find. 
Fair enough; Dever is a biblical archeologist, not a historian of religion. 
 But where Dever leaves off, contemporary teachers (and some scholars) 
begin. For  example, the feminine imagery of biblical “wisdom literature,” 
omitted by Dever,  is the subject of “The Divine Feminine in Biblical Wisdom 
Literature,” a new  book by Rami Shapiro, a popular teacher of contemporary 
spirituality and  mysticism. Unfortunately, while Shapiro’s book does contain 
some fine new  translations of biblical poetry, the book, meant for self-help 
purposes, elides  the distinctions between the wisdom literature’s Divine 
Feminine (Wisdom;  Chochma in Hebrew, Sophia in Greek) and the “Divine Mother”
 as  expressed in Dever’s sources, as well as in Kabbalah, Christianity and 
 contemporary Jewish spirituality. Simply to say, as Shapiro does, that 
Wisdom  “is the manifestation of the Divine Mother as She appears in the Hebrew 
Bible”  is not accurate, and lessens, rather than heightens, the impact of 
this complex  literature. In the Kabbalah, intuitive Wisdom is balanced by 
rational, critical  understanding (the latter of which, ironically, is Binah, 
the Divine Mother);  Shapiro’s book should have been, as well. 
Yet the Divine Feminine is not purely the province of the New Age. As  
Professor Susan Sered has observed, the pattern of women-centered “domestic  
piety” co-existing with men-centered “normative religion” still exists  
throughout the Jewish world, where women maintain folk traditions and “family  
wisdom” independent of the book religion of male elites. Think of the  “
superstitions” and “old wives’ tales” one inherits not from books but from  
grandmothers and aunts. And, of course, traditional symbols of the Divine  
Feminine endure, albeit removed from their original context. Consider the 
Easter  
egg and Christmas tree in the Christian tradition (both originally pagan 
symbols  of the Divine Feminine) or, for that matter, the Holy Grail. 
In the Jewish tradition, the most obvious symbol of the Divine Feminine may 
 be none other than the Torah itself, as has been pointed out by Amichai  
Lau-Lavie, director of Storahtelling: Jewish Ritual Theater Revived. Called 
the  “Tree of Life” (yet another euphemism for Asherah), the Torah’s 
symbolism,  Lau-Lavie says, enacts the revelation of the Goddess. “The ark, the 
Holy of  Holies, is separated by a curtain, like in the Temple, and behind it 
is the  Torah, wearing a silver crown and velvet dress, always referred to in 
the  feminine. Then we bring her out with great decorum, kiss her, undress 
her, open  her up and commence the ritual of knowledge in the biblical sense.
” 
While “the Goddess” has long been in hiding in such coded symbols, today 
She  is, as it were, coming out of the closet, appearing in everything from 
feminine  God(dess) language to “priestess training programs” in both Israel 
and the  United States. Folklorist Taya Shere, a co-leader of one such 
program, says that  she is merely recapturing an ancient, lost and more 
balanced 
Jewish religion.  “Judaism came from somewhere, and it is comforting for me 
to be aware of its  roots,” she said. “Even the challah loaves come from 
the holy cakes baked for  Astarte.” 
Today’s ritual innovators may seem quite distant from the rural women  
described in Dever’s volume. But as Dever notes, images of the Divine Feminine  
persist because they speak to deep human needs. Rational, philosophical  
monotheism, he says, “is in some ways less sophisticated — that is, less  
comprehensive, less flexible, less natural” than its more mythic antecedents.  
One is reminded how much more nuanced is the Zohar’s dynamic, embodied human  
psychology than the linear rationalism of Maimonides, which posits one 
human  faculty as supreme above all others. 
Perhaps the deeper question here is what we mean when we speak of Judaism — 
 whether we refer to the normative texts of the elite, or the descriptive 
reality  of the masses. Which is more accurate, and which more wise: the 
strict ideals of  the rabbis, or the complex realities of the peasants? For 
that 
matter, who is  the “Sabbath Queen,” anyway? And why, despite millennia of 
suppression, does She  continue to endure?

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