Why I Wrote Tales Of The Holy Mysticat

This outrageous book began as a series of stories I wrote to amuse friends about the idiosyncrasies of Dagesh, my peculiar cat. Before I continue, let me explain why I named him Dagesh? This was because one of the first things I noticed after bringing him home from the shelter was the long vocalizations he made at the bedroom window.

I didn’t know what they were but they were so impressively emphatic that I called him Dagesh after the Hebrew grammatical mark can emphasize sounds or intensify meaning. For example, SHaVaR in kal (without a dagesh) is “to break,” but SHaBaR in piel (with a dagesh) is “to smash.”

In modern Hebrew “l’hadgish” is “to emphasize.” Later it became clear that what I had thought was oratory at the window was actually praying instead. Over a number of years and a growing body of stories, it became clearer and clearer to me that Dagesh—whom I came to call The Holy Mysticat— was a holy teacher of sorts, and that understanding his behavior through the lens of Jewish texts and practice could be a playful way of learning and teaching.

The Holy Mysticat lived with me for 12 years (although for the sake of storytelling, the tales are arranged as if they cover roughly 18 months).  It took both of us a while to adjust to each other’s personalities.

Truthfully, Dagesh was not the most engaging cat I had ever lived with. He was imperious, obstinate, and crabby, but he radiated a complex spiritual beauty that humbled me. For his part, The Mysticat was fully prepared to dislike and disdain me, yet he apparently saw something worthy in me and ultimately came to love me devotedly, in a grumpy way. 

The more I watched The Holy Mysticat, the more he taught me, both about the limits of my own Jewish knowledge, and the rich possibilities of a playful imagination. The Mysticat was like any knowledgeable Jewish roommate. Thick volumes of Bible, Talmud, and Hebrew or Aramaic lexicons piled on the dining room table seemed homey and inviting to him, and I eventually realized that he could take their holiness into himself by lying on top of them to absorb their textual content (I myself covet this ability more than any of the Mysticat’s other powers, but alas, the only way I can learn Torah is to pound it into my stupid head with multiple repetitions.)

He would always be near or on the table when I was learning. He seemed familiar with the rhythms and rituals of an observant Jewish home. But he was also a zealous meditator, a practice at which I am spectacularly unsuccessful. Although Jewish mysticism is not my field of study, its stories and categories seemed to explain some of my roomie’s more unusual behaviors. 

But I had the power dynamic all wrong. It was not that I had a Jewishly knowledgeable cat. Rather, a holy and scholarly feline mystic had me, and he regarded me as a gabbai, a sort of secretary-chronicler who also cared for his physical necessities. Historically, a gabbai was a student qua employee who served the great Hasidic rebbes. As a great mystic, The Mysticat was, of course, entitled to this kind of service. But he had expected much higher quality help than me.

First of all, I was not a (male) gabbai, but a (female) gabba’it. The Mysticat was a traditionalist and no feminist, though during his years in my home, he learned a grudging respect for female rabbis and scholars. Second, although no gabbai is as learned as his master, no mystic ever had a gabbai as ignorant of Jewish mysticism as I.  I am not merely unfamiliar with its texts; I do not comprehend its concepts, even when I can recite the explanations. It’s like being tone deaf. I can’t even hear it, much less do it.

The Mysticat believed he deserved better, and I agree. I can’t explain why he got me any more than he could. Third, not only is it untraditional for a gabbai/gabba’it to pursue his/her own scholarly work, the feminist Jewish philosophy and hermeneutics that I produced scandalized and infuriated the Mysticat. 

The Tales began as a surreal joke. Imagine animal fables in which the moral teacher is not Aesop, but a cat. I had no intention of publishing the stories, but my friend, the novelist and publisher Maggie Anton, was determined. The proposition that she and my scholarly editor, Rabbi Beth Lieberman, suggested to me appealed to my sneaky mind.

We would tempt people with these outrageous Mysticat Tales and provide appendices so they could get all the learned jokes. Without meaning to, readers would end up adding to their Torah learning. That seemed an appropriate tribute to The Mysticat’s own sneakiness, as well as a way to honor the insights he and I had sneaked into one another’s awareness. 

Go ahead, dear reader—see if you can read this book without learning a single damn thing. We give you our blessing.

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RACHEL ADLER is the David Ellenson Professor of Modern Jewish Thought at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, Los Angeles Campus. She is the author of Engendering Judaism, the first book by a female theologian to win a National Jewish Book Award for Jewish Thought. Rabbi Adler has a PhD in Religion and Social Ethics from the University of Southern California, rabbinical ordination from Hebrew Union College.

 

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Tales of the Holy Mysticat: Jewish Wisdom Stories by a Feline Mystic 

When Rabbi Rachel Adler, esteemed feminist theologian, decided her new apartment needed a cat, she searched the local shelters. One gaunt feline caught her eye. Despite being caged, he radiated the spiritual beauty of face and dignity of bearing that mark a great soul. As he settled into his new home–purring at the Hebrew volumes in Adler’s library, nodding attentively to the mezzuzot on her doorposts, and engaging in soulful meditation three times each day–Adler discerned that he was no ordinary kitty. He was an old soul with many lifetimes of Jewish wisdom to impart, reincarnated to a higher level in the form of a gray tabby–the Holy Mysticat.

This engaging book is a guide to Jewish literacy, using the behaviors of Adler’s most peculiar cat to lead readers on a journey through thousands of years of Jewish thought,history, and practices. A collection of whimsical stories, interspersed with cleverly drawn black-and-white illustrations, Tales of the Holy Mysticat provides unique insights into Jewish mysticism by one of our generation’s most profoundly creative scholars–portrayed through the life of her cat. Just as the Holy Mysticat became Adler’s teacher, so too can the Holy Mysticat teach us all.

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Category: On Writing