Jewish Ritual on the Edge: Deconstructing the Daime Shabbat

The following is the first in a series of posts entitled Jewish Ritual on the Edge. The purpose of this series is to examine innovations in Jewish ritual, in order to facilitate the discussion and advancement of such initiatives.

My first weekend back in Israel, after my recent North American excursion, I was invited to partake in an ayahuasca ritual at a private home up north. This ritual was facilitated by Judeo Daime, an offshoot of Sainto Daime — a Catholic ayahuasca cult with origins in the Brazillian Amazon. Santo Daime literally means, “the holy ‘give me’ herb,” however the inference is that this substance is a Catholic saint. As part of the research I’m conducting for my book on Jews and drugs, I decided to attend this ritual (albeit warily), as I’m seeking to discover what an entheogenic ritual would look like when presented in a Jewish context (something I’ve discussed with my interview subjects at length).

My general thesis is that Shamanistic ritual used to be an integral part of the ancient Jewish tradition, as is consistent with most religious sects historically. It is my belief that the consumption of entheogens (”God awakening” plants and fungii) — which would have been an entirely natural occurrence for prehistoric man and his predecessors — is responsible for the evolution of human consciousness, as well as man’s religious impulse. In my book, I seek to demonstrate how the “plant-human symbiosis,” as Terence McKenna once spoke, “pulled us out of the animal body and into the tool-using, culture-making, imagination-exploring creature that we are.” I further seek to demonstrate how mankind’s relationship with such hallucinogens compelled our forbears to seek out an active relationship with The Divine.

While certain ideas present in Tanakh and our oral tradition both overtly and subtly point to this reality, any semblance of a Shamanistic ritual in Judaism has been lost to history. While I speculate this may have been part of an agenda of control perpetuated by our priestly caste (as would be consistent with the current logic of drug prohibition), in a time when “divine revelation” is so distant from the common man, I believe it is of great importance that Jews reintegrate an authentically Jewish Shamanistic ritual into their practice. Hence my openness to the Daime ritual.

Sainto Daime essentially takes the ancient native Amazonian ayahuasca ritual and integrates it into a Catholic context. Its founder, Raimundo Irineu, claims that once, during an ayahuasca vision, the Virgin Mary appeared and instructed him to take the ayahuasca experience back to his own tradition. Likewise, Judeo Daime’s founder, a Dutch Israeli (who, due to the questionable status of ayahuasca in Israel*, has asked me to withhold his name for the time being, and as such will heretofore be referred to as JDF) had a similar experience during his avodah (Hebrew for “work”) with Santo Daime in Amsterdam. JDF has thus has taken the Sainto Daime ritual, removed all references to Jesus and Mary, and is now attempting to integrate it into a Jewish ritual context.

Judeo Daime is a spiritual work which aims at self-knowledge and the experience of God or the “Superior I” inside. To accomplish this task we use, within a ritual Jewish context, the sacramental entheogen known as Santo Daime or ayahuasca. The use of entheogenic substances as a sacrament seems to have been part of the main religious traditions of ancient times and gave the visionary basis for many of the most important religions that exist in the world today.
     The liturgical setting of Judeo Daime is based on both the Jewish tradition, with its many prayers, songs and rituals, and the Santo Daime doctrine as established by Master Irineu, though without the Christian elements.
     [...] Judeo Daime is monotheistic and based on the Torah and 4,000 year-old Jewish religious principles, the most important of which is the belief in a single, omniscient, transcendent God that created the universe and continues to be involved in its governance. According to Jewish thought, the God who created the world established a covenant with the Jewish people and revealed his laws and commandments to them in the form of the Torah. Judeo Daime is non-dogmatic, respectful and open to everybody’s religion and spiritual convention.
     —Siddur Daime Shabbat

*Ayahuasca is currently unscheduled in Israel, meaning it is neither legal nor illegal.

***
Over the course of the last six months, JDF has been experimenting with a ritual he calls Daime Shabbat. Daime Shabbat is based upon Ayahuasca Open Style (AOS), a template for creating unique ayahuasca rituals in the Daime tradition. AOS was developed by a Jewish psychedelics enthusiast and proponent of neo-Shamanism currently living in Amsterdam.

The Daime Shabbat ritual consists of two major elements: Avodah and arucha.

The first part, Avodah, is the (spiritual) work, or avodat hakodesh (the holy work), where one works to get closer to the divine and the self. The Avodah starts with making kiddush and drinking the Daime and ends with the brocha (blessing) “Barcuh hamekhazir neshamot.” Directly after the conclusion of the Avodah starts the Arucha, which consists of a traditional Shabbat meal with singing, sharing experiences and telling divre Torah (thoughts from the Torah). The Arucha ends with birkat hamazon, the grace after meals. During the Avodah, we follow a planned program according to the Daime Shabbat siddur (prayerbook), with little room for spontaneous initiatives or additions. During the Arucha, you are invited to come up with your own songs and stories, as long as they do not intervene with the spiritual atmosphere of the Daime Shabbat.
     —Siddur Daime Shabbat

Prior to the ritual, all sorts of halakhic (legal) questions came up:

• Do we light the Shabbat candles now, since it’s sunset, or do we light them once everyone gets here?
• Do we say tefillat haderech (the wayfarer’s prayer) before we begin, as Reb Zalman suggests?
• How do we deal with shomer Shabbat attendees who don’t feel comfortable taking a cab home afterwards?
• Is it permissible to have non-Jewish attendees perform Kabbalat Shabbat?

JDF, who studied at Yeshivat Har Etzion in Alon Shvut, and who comes from a traditional Orthodox background, struggled with these questions but I found his conclusions to be unsatisfactory, as he sided more in favor of convenience than with halakha (Jewish law). On the one hand, I suppose it was acceptable because none of the attendees were Orthodox, but on the other hand, it would have made me more comfortable, and further, it would have seemed more authentic, were these decisions to have been more halakhic. However, I obviously could not expect this close-knit group — in which I was really the only outsider — to cater to my level of comfort. But it was on this point that my discomfort began.

The next uncomfortable experience followed when one of the attendees, a secular Israeli man in his late 20’s, who was well-initiated into the world of Santo Daime, placed a Buddha statuette on the table around which we were to be seated. A facilitator then argued with him for several minutes why it was inappropriate to put the statuette on the Shabbat table (the statuette constituting an idol, which is expressly prohibited in Judaism) and the two compromised by placing the statuette off in another corner of the room. I was seated next to this individual, and so I had a Buddha giving me the staredown all throughout the ritual. As I have come to embrace a radical iconoclasm in the last few years, this dissatisfied me greatly.

I myself was once a practicing Buddhist, and while I continue to respect Buddhism as a philosophical tradition, as a religious tradition it unnerves me a bit. Clearly conscious people with the proper intention can see idols as symbols of specific aspects of “the one infinite God,” just as Jews do in their specific names for God, or as embodied in the 10 spheres of emination represented by the etz chayyim (tree of life) in Kabbalah. These are merely symbols of religious inspiration which aid us in connection to “higher mind.” However, Judaism teaches that God is manifest in all of creation, and in all of humanity in particular. It states in Midrash Rabba:

Ben Azzai said, “‘This is the book of the descendants of Adam’ is a great principle of the Torah.” Rabbi Akiva said, “But ‘Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself’ is even a greater principle. Hence you must not say, ‘Since I have been put to shame, let my neighbour be put to shame.’” Rabbi Tanhuma said, “If you do so, know whom you put to shame, for in the likeness of God made He him.”

It is therefore regarded as dangerous to limit the presence of divinity to one specific form — be it nature, Jesus, or a statue of Buddha — because doing so blinds us to the divinity inherent in everyone and everything else, and could therefore cause us to bring shame our fellow human being, and in doing so, to shame God. Therefore I am adamantly opposed to the use of any symbolic objects as divine analogues — which is why I don’t kiss mezuzot (door markers) nor pray at the Western Wall, other than under special circumstances such as Tisha B’Av (the holiday commemorating the destruction of David and Solomon’s temples).

Following a brief discussion of this subject, I asked this gentleman, who was thoroughly initiated into the Judeo Daime group, whether his experience of Judeo Daime had helped him connect in any way more strongly to Judaism.

“I am not so interested in religion,” he said frankly. “For me, this is about being with a community and singing together.”

“That’s funny,” I responded. “That’s why most of my friends go to shul (synagogue).”

***
As the ritual approached, we seated ourselves around the Shabbat table. The women sat at the opposite side of the table from the men, which I believe was in order to tame whatever sexual dynamics may come into play in the course of the ritual. This was troubling for me because a) I believe emphasizing gender divisions bring even more focus to sexual dynamics, b) it seemed to be enforcing traditional forms of patriarchy, c) it gives the impression of being non-egalitarian. Again, I held my tongue and allowed the facilitators to conduct the ritual without attempting to impose my own dogmas.

JDF then proceeded to give us “the ground rules.” This included being conscious of yawning, not crossing your arms or legs (nor spreading your legs too widely), and not leaving your seat unless it’s to pee or puke. We were also required to sign a wavier releasing the facilitators from any responsiblity for physical or mental injury sustained during the ritual, and agreeing that we would not leave until they determined we were capable. JDF then instructed us, on the one hand, to keep up with the songs, and on the other, to “go inside” and “talk to Daime.”

“Talk to Daime?” I thought. “Um, I thought this way about connecting to God. Is Daime supposed to be God?” This too made me incredibly uncomfortable. Again, my wariness towards idolatrous behavior made me very suspect of connecting to the alleged saint, Daime.

The ritual began with making kiddush (traditionally a blessing over wine; kiddush means “separation,” as in to separate the sacred from the mundane) on the ayahuasca. The attendees cautiously sipped the repulsive liquid. I simply tossed it back as if it were a shot to avoid having to taste it for any duration.

We then proceeded with Kabbalat Shabbat (welcoming the Sabbath). JDF led the services with a nussach (musical tradition) I was entirely unfamiliar with and thus keeping up was futile. I had expected some high, righteous Carlebach niggunim (tunes) — music with which I am familiar and which, frankly, works for me — but instead what I got was some dry, old school Dutch nussach which rendered any development of kavanah (intent) on my part impossible. Interspersed with the Kabbalat Shabbat prayers were traditional Daime songs in Portugeuse which all the attendees present were familiar with except for me. These songs, which were in Portuguese (a langauge with which I am hardly acquainted), sang the praises of Santo Daime, which I again, found to be alienating and discomforting.

Some insight is offered in a report from Charles Winstead and Susan Miller in the Summer 1997 issue of Trip magazine on the Daime ritual:

In Brazil the ayahuasca ritual is a community affair where everyone knows each other, and all are familiar with the procedure and the songs. Children were present at the ritual that I attended which lasted from early afternoon into the evening. In contrast, I also attended a ritual in California with a group of unaffiliated persons gathered together for one evening only. Few had prior experience with Santo Daime, and even less knew the songs. The participants seemed more concerned with their own process and less interested in the collective wisdom of the ages contained within the ritual. The participants at this session did not have the rich cultural history of working with ayahuasca. In fact for many it was their first introduction. In this situation, it was more difficult to achieve the unity that is often sought.

This is precisely what happened to me. Because of my unfamiliarity and discomfort with the songs, and because I was not a member of the Santo Daime community as were the other attendees, I decided to disconnect from the group and “go inside.”

***
Prior to the ritual, JDF and his co-facilitator really got the butterflies flapping in my stomach. “Oh man,” they said, “Daime is like, pssssh!” Pssssh — the sound of pushing air through one’s front teeth — is a “term” used in the Jewish world to describe an ineffible experience. It is like the sound of a rocket launching into outerspace.

I had been reading about ayahuasca for years, beginning with Burroughs & Ginsberg’s Yage Letters, and had gotten excited about the possibility of trying it particularly after encountering McKenna’s work on DMT, of which ayahuasca is an analogue. However, I had also gotten some negative reports on ayahuasca ritual experiences from friends, and was nervous about trying it myself, as I’m admittedly emotionally fragile, carrying quite a bit of baggage from my childhood. Only after extensively consulting with the folks at MAPS, did I finally muster up the nerve to give it a try. I am a seasoned psychedelic explorer, having done my fair share of mushrooms and LSD, and so they assured me that I would be capable of handling the experience.

All day I was brimming with anticipation. And while I waited for the ayahuasca to kick in, I was saying to myself, “Okay, I’m ready. Bring it on.”

However, rather than having the most intense pssssh experience (un)imaginable, I received a major let down. I felt practically nothing, sensing only a minor, transient effect which I had to use the full force of my consciousness to pursue. Any point at which I finally managed to “connect” was interrupted by a cue from the faciliators or someone getting up to use the bathroom. And so, my experience was tainted by a preoccupation with having just bought a “bunk hit.”

Following the ritual, JDF conceded that something was apparently wrong with this specific batch. Some of the other Daime adherents insisted that “it doesn’t always work the first time” and that they had powerful experiences, but neither I, nor JDF or anoter attendee — an expert on ayahuasca — were having it. The insistence of these other individuals made me all the more wary of the cultish aspects of Santo Daime.

***
Striving to connect under these circumstance, I went “inside” and tried talking to Daime, as was suggested by JDF.

“Daime, you there?”

Nothing. Sheer silenece.

“God, you there?”

“Sheeeeeit,” The Inner-Voice instantly snapped back in a jive parlance. “I’m always here.”

“So what is this?”

“It ain’t shit.”

“That’s what I thought. What the fuck? I’d be having a better time if I were in shul (synagogue) with my friends right now.”

Ah! Divine revelation!

***
Driving up with JDF and his co-facilitator, we talked about my interest in innovating psychedelic ritual in Judaism. Part of that conversation revolved around the value of entheogens in relation to the progressive development of spiritual consciousness through a meditative or (non-psychedelic) ritual practice. The way I explained it was as such:

There are essentially two popular views in the psychedelics crowd. The first view is offered by Terence McKenna. In an interview with Neville Drury, McKenna stated the following:

I think People are in love with the journey. People love seeking answers. But if you were to suggest to them that the time of seeking is over and that the chore is now to face the answer, now that’s more of a challenge!
     Anyone can sweep up around the ashram for a dozen years while congratulating themselves that they are following a path to enlightenment. It takes courage to take psychedelics—real courage. Your stomach clenches, your palms grow damp, because you realise that this is real—this is going to work. Not in 12 years, not in 20 years, but in an hour!
     What I see in the whole spiritual enterprise is a great number of people supporting themselves in one way or another on the basis of their lack of success. Were they ever to succeed these enterprises would be all but put out of business. But no one is in a hurry for that.
     [...] What I have found is that all of these systems that are offered as spiritual paths work splendidly in the presence of psychedelics. If you think mantras are effective, try a mantra on twenty milligrams of psilocybin and see what happens. All sincere religious motivation is illuminated by psychedelics. To put it perhaps in a trivial way, the religious quest is an automobile but psychedelics are the petrol that runs it. You go nowhere without the fuel no matter how finely crafted the upholstery how flawlessly machined the engine.

In other words, a spiritual practice can only take you so far. The reality is that the end result of taking such a path pales in comparison to the extraordinary power of the psychedelic experience. A spiritual practice can be a very useful supplement to the psychedelic experience, but ultimately such a practice is only a slow means to the end which entheogens directly provide.

The other view was posited by Baba Ram Dass, in his classic work (which set me off on my own spiritual journey) Be Here Now. Ram Dass, formerly known to the world as Dr. Richard Alpert, was a psychiatrist at Harvard University and both the research associate of Dr. Timothy Leary (who needs no introduction) and the son of the president one of Boston’s major Reform Jewish congregations. After experimenting with LSD while at Harvard, and co-authoring with Leary and Ralph Metzner, The Psychedelic Experience — a roadmap for entheogenic exploration based upon The Tibetan Book of the Dead — Alpert took off for India with a bottle of LSD in hopes of discovering the secret of its power. Alpert was led by Bhagavan Das, nee Michael Riggs (who, in returning to the U.S., has himself become a celebrity guru to the likes of the Beastie Boys, with whom he cut his last album), to his then-guru Maharaji. Alpert was subsequently initiated into Maharaji’s sect and was given the name Ram Dass: “Servant of God.”

Ram Dass writes,

At one point in the evening I was looking in my shoulder bag and came across the bottle of LSD.
     ”Wow, I’ve finally met a guy who is going to Know! He will definitely know what LSD is. I’ll have to ask him. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll ask him.” Then I forgot about it.
     The next morning, at 8′oclock a messenger comes. Maharaji wants to see you immediately. We went in the Land Rover. The 3 miles to the temple. When I’m approaching him, he yells out at me, “Have you got a question?”
     And he’s very impatient with all of this nonsense, and he says, “Where’s the medicine?”
     I got a translation of this. He said medicine. I said, “medicine?” I never though of LSD as medicine! And somebody said, he must mean the LSD. “LSD?” He said, “Ah-cha — bring the LSD.”
     So I went to the car and got the little bottle of LSD and I came back.
     ”Let me see?”
     So I poured it out in my hand—”What’s that?”
     ”That’s STP… That’s librium and that’s…” A little of everything. Sort of a little traveling kit.
     He says, “Gives you siddhis?”
     I had never heard the word “siddhi” before. So I asked for a translation and siddhi was translated as “power.” From where I was at in relation to these concepts, I thought he was like a little old man, asking for power. Perhaps he was losing his vitality and wanted Vitamin B 12. That was one thing I didn’t have and I felt terribly apologetic because I would have given him anything. If he wanted the Land Rover, he could have it. And I said, “Oh, no, I’m sorry.” I really felt bad I didn’t have any and put it back in the bottle.
     He looked at me and extended his hand. So I put into his hand what’s called a “White Lightning.” This is an LSD pill and this one was from a special batch that had been made specially for me for traveling. And each pill was 305 micrograms, and very pure. Very good acid. Usually you start a man over 60, maybe with 50 to 75 micrograms, very gently, so you won’t upset him. 300 of pure acid is a very solid dose.
     He looks at the pill and extends his hand further. So I put a second pill—that’s 610 micrograms—then a third pill—that’s 915 micrograms—into his palm.
     That is sizeable for a first dose for anyone!
     ”Ah-cha.”
     And then he swallows them! I see them go down. There’s no doubt. And that little scientist in me says, “This is going to be very interesting!”
     All day long I’m there, and every now and then he twinkles at me and nothing—nothing happens! That was his answer to my question. Now you have the data I have.

Ie., what is the secret power of entheogens? Why it’s nothing at all.

Only from their own experience can one decide for themselves where they hold on this issue.

***
While I’m partial to McKenna’s perspective — hence why I’m seeking out an authentic Jewish Shamanic ritual — and I believe that talmud Torah (religious study) and being shomrei mitzvot (having a Jewish ritual practice) are necessary components of meaningful entheogenic experiences — at least in a Jewish context — my conclusion from this particular experience fell more in-line with Ram Dass’ view.

This, of course, is resultant of the fact that the ayahuasca I took that evening did not actually work. JDF insisted that, had the ayahuasca kicked in, I would have been entirely overwhelmed, and all my concerns about the idolatrous aspects of the ritual and my dissatisfaction with the nussach of Kabbalat Shabbat and with the Daime songs themselves would have been overriden. The songs would have just come to me, he insisted, as if I’d already known them. “There are hundreds of hymns in the Church, most written by Irineu, his successor Mato, and later Mato’s son Gregorio,” write Winstead and Miller, “all of whom said they channeled the songs from the astral plane.” The implication is that, had the Daime truly been effective, I would have channeled these songs as well.

This unnerved me. While I haven’t ruled out the possiblity of archetypes, logos, or “the collective unconscious,” I don’t cop to that shit so readily. And when I hear people claim that such abstracts are very real, the needle on my skepticism meter snaps off from the force with which it strikes the “bullshit” peg. I am very wary of mystical charlatanism. Blame the Przysucha blood in me. As such, while I find such beliefs to be fun to tinker with (much in the way that Robert Anton Wilson tinkered with synchronicity and the Sirius mystery), at the end of the day, I think it’s an inherently dangerous ideology to subscribe to, whether imposed or organic. It is a self-hypnosis which gives way to angels, demons, “self-transforming machine elves,” demiurges, and all manner of supernatural being which detract from the oneness and all-powerfulness of The Divine.

***
On top of my frustration with the ritual and the weakness of the ayahuasca, I was also freaking out about not yawning or crossing my arms and legs. I felt forced to sit still even though I was miserable and uncomfortable. I wanted to run outside and scream. But I was trapped.

As a result of all of these factors combined, throughout the entire duration of this experience I was dying to explode and cry out “bullshit!” I decided instead not to ill-effect the experiences of the other participants and to just keep my mouth shut. I also did not wish to spoil anyone’s Shabbat by deriding the experience following the ritual. I decided to save my criticisms until after Shabbat.

During the Arucha, however, JDF pressed me to share my feelings about the experience. “I’m just going to keep my mouth shut for now,” I said.

Later I wound up outside on the balcony “the expert.” My subtle questions about the effect of the ayahuasca and the nature of the ritual itself soon led to my full divulgence. JDF apparently sensed this and joined us on the balcony eager to hear my critique.

Interestingly, this fellow — also a secular Israeli — felt that it was the Jewish component, not the Daime component, which had no place in the ritual. While not an adherent of Santo Daime himself, he has been particpating in Daime rituals for roughly 14 years. As other individuals began to trickle out on the balcony and insert their two-cents into the conversation, I was unable to get to the heart of why he felt this way. Frankly, I would rather not put forth speculations premised on biased assumptions about the attitudes of secular Israelis towards Judaism. Rather I hope to ask him again in the future as I continue to research this subject.

Once the entire group had overtaken our conversation, JDF and I slipped off to the side and I cut right to the chase. This is when he raised his contentions about not having a valid critique of the ritual due to the failure of the ayahuasca. I was nonetheless certain that the ritual would have been just as dissatisfactory considering my unfamiliarity with the nussach, which is essentially a result of not being an initiate of their sect. JDF suggested that perhaps, then, I should join them. This is when I came to my final conclusion (and is also, notably, when I decided to leave).

Judeo Daime is not an attempt to reawaken an authentically Jewish Shamanism, but is instead a misguided (to be read “not sinister”) attempt to export the Daime cult to Judaism. The Daime avodah is essentially avodah zarah (literally “foreign work,” figuratively “idolatry”). It is not a Jewish ritual and has no place within a Jewish framework.

I would not, however, regard this experience as fruitless. From the Daime Shabbat, I gained a great deal of insight into what a Jewish Shamanic ritual might look like. For starters it must happen with one’s own chevra (group) or chavurah (literally “fellowship,” figuratively “prayer group”), with a nussach all participants are familiar and comfortable with, and it must strive for some degree of halkahic authenticity. Further, ayahuasca (or specifically Brazillian or Dutch ayahuasca) may likely be the wrong entheogen of choice, as it is inextricably linked to a foreign tradition which places too much emphasis on the substance itself.

While it is, in fact, possible to make ayahuasca from plants native to Israel (John Halpern of MAPS pointed out quite a few candidates during our visit to Tzefat earlier this year), and there are scattered references in Kabbalistic sources to the use of substances concocted from such plants (though those referenced by Kaplan and Sperber are not of the psychedelic variety), I suspect that Judaism’s sacred plant is more likely of the fungal variety.

And so the hunt continues…