A never-ending mystery

In an age where ‘authenticity’ is prized above all things (even if what this actually means is that — like, say, Trump — you are just celebrated for being authentically narcissistic), it seems a rare kind of delight to investigate a spiritual/mystical philosophy of which it is airily claimed that: ‘It’s meaningless to speak of authenticity.’ Wow. Double-blink.

Welcome to the curious but fascinating world of Harry Freedman’s Kabbalah: Secrecy, Scandal and the Soul, a cheerfully non-partisan, no-frills attempt at demystifying one of the world’s most mysterious, opaque and esoteric spiritual traditions. Yes. Kabbalah… or…um… Cabala. Freedman certainly has his work cut out here. As if explaining the rudiments (and the rudiments are all that it’s humanly possible to explain in a book of this length) of Kabbalah/Cabala isn’t difficult enough, there’s long been this schism between the original, inward-looking, Jewish Traditionalist Kabbalists and loopy factions in the west (and this is a psychological kind of west rather than a geographical one) where the tradition has taken on a more occult/New Age/self-help incarnation.

The phrase ‘no frills’ is by no means intended as a criticism. Because the subject matter itself is so obscure, inhospitable and convoluted it would be a brave man indeed who tried to show off or fancy things up in this particular context. Like Cabala (note, western spelling) this book is, at some weirdly paradoxical level, unthreatening and user-friendly (there will, however, be talk of tetragrammaton and pentagrammaton). I say Cabala is unthreatening, but what I’m actually struggling to articulate is that (as Freedman writes): ‘Kabbalah is a rare example of a spiritual philosophy open to peoples of all creeds, yet one that does not detract from their faith.’ Yes. So it’s flexible. It contains a little bit of something for everyone.