Tag Archives: Eshet Chayil

Shalom Aleichem: To Sing or Not to Sing?

This week’s parasha, Vayak’hel, begins with God’s command for Israel to observe the Sabbath. One of the most famous symbols and songs of Shabbat is undoubtedly Shalom Aleichem, traditionally sung before the evening Kiddush. The lyrics of Shalom Aleichem welcome the Sabbath angels into our homes, and for many, serve to set the atmosphere of Shabbat itself. Yet, some of our wise rabbis in the past have cautioned against singing this song!  Where did Shalom Aleichem come from, and who composed it? When did Jews start singing this song, and why?

A Mystery Song

Much of the beloved Kabbalat Shabbat service is of very recent origin. For example, Lecha Dodi, through which we welcome in the Sabbath, was composed by Rabbi Shlomo HaLevi Alkabetz (c. 1500-1576). In fact, the eight verses of Lecha Dodi form an acrostic, the initials spelling his name. Born in Greece, Rabbi Alkabetz later moved to Tzfat, the capital of Jewish mysticism. He studied with Rabbi Yosef Karo (c. 1488-1575), famed composer of the Shulchan Arukh, and was the brother-in-law of the Ramak (Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, 1522-1570), who led the Tzfat Kabbalists before the arrival of the Arizal (Rabbi Itzchak Luria, 1534-1572). Many practices and customs of Judaism as we know them today originated in this incredible circle of Jewish mystics in Tzfat. One of these is the Kabbalat Shabbat prayer service.

Although Rabbi Alkabetz certainly wrote Lecha Dodi, there is little evidence that the wider Kabbalistic circle of Tzfat recited it in his own day. Contrary to popular belief, the Arizal did not sing this song. We know the Arizal’s teachings and practices from the writings of his students, namely his primary disciple, Rabbi Chaim Vital (1542-1620). In Pri Etz Chaim, Rabbi Vital makes it abundantly clear, and repeats multiple times, exactly how the Arizal would perform Kabbalat Shabbat (see, for example, Sha’ar Shabbat, ch. 6):

The Arizal would go out into the fields, and recite Psalm 20 (with the most important verse there being the tenth, which starts Hashem l’mabul yashav, the initials spelling a Name of God, יל״י). He would then say Bo’i Kalah, “come my Bride” three times (based on a teaching in the Talmud, Shabbat 119a). Following this, he would recite Psalm 92 (Mizmor shir l’yom haShabbat), which also contains hidden Names of God. That would be it for Kabbalat Shabbat. Rabbi Vital explains what happens next:

And when you come home from the synagogue after praying Arvit, stand at your place at the meal table, and say “This is the meal of the Holy Apple Orchard”… and after this, encircle the table around the right, silently. Then, take in your hands two bundles of hadas [myrtle branches], and join them together, and say the blessing [besamim] on them, and smell them. And afterwards, encircle the table a second time with the branches in hand, silently. Then say “Zachor v’shamor b’dibbur echad ne’emru”. Then say Kiddush.

After eating the meal, recite some passages from the tractate Shabbat, then birkat hamazon, then say again “Zachor v’shamor b’dibbur echad ne’emru”. Then say the blessing on the hadas a second time. In the morning, for the second Shabbat meal, do the same as you did the previous night [during the first meal], and do the same for the third meal [seudah shlishit].

‘Sabbath Queen’ by Abigail Sarah Bagraim

Thus, while we find some words that remind us of Lecha Dodi, such as “bo’i kalah” and “zachor v’shamor b’dibbur echad” (rearranged by Alkabetz in Lecha Dodi so that “shamor” comes first, to spell his name “Shlomo”), there is no mention of an entire Lecha Dodi. Nor is there any mention of singing Shalom Aleichem (or Eshet Chayil for that matter).

The Arizal did teach that one should say the words “shalom aleichem” three times at the end of Birkat Levanah, the blessing on a new moon recited once a month (Sha’ar Rosh Chodesh Chanukah v’Purim, ch. 3). This is still done today. The Arizal explained that saying shalom aleichem three times serves to remove any kitrug, spiritual “prosecution”. Based on this, some believe that whoever composed the song Shalom Aleichem incorporated this teaching of the Arizal. This is probably why some (especially Sephardis) have the custom to sing only the first three stanzas of Shalom Aleichem, thus saying the words “shalom aleichem” three times. Alternatively, this may be why many others (especially Ashkenazis) have the custom to recite each stanza of Shalom Aleichem three times.

The Origin of Shalom Aleichem

So where and when did Shalom Aleichem first appear? It seems the earliest source is Seder Tikkunei Shabbat, a work first published in Prague in 1641. I found a 1650 Krakow edition, and its Kabbalat Shabbat service and meal table ritual is nearly identical to what is generally practiced today. There are the six Psalms before Lecha Dodi, then Lecha Dodi itself, followed by two more Psalms. Then there is Shalom Aleichem, with all four stanzas—each to be read three times—followed by a prayer called Ribbon Kol HaOlamim, and then Eshet Chayil.

Cover of Tikkunei Shabbat

The cover page of the text says it is based on the teachings of the Arizal. It isn’t clear who exactly put the book together, though it appears to mention a “Rabbi Isaiah Nasi”. That may be Rabbi Isaiah Horowitz (Shelah HaKadosh, 1555-1630), a renowned Kabbalist who was born in Prague and lived for a time in Krakow. He got hold of the teachings of the Arizal, and towards the end of his life travelled to Tzfat in hopes of learning directly from the Arizal’s disciples. Considering that Seder Tikkunei Shabbat was first published twenty years after the Shelah left Europe, and eleven years after he died, it may have been put together by someone else, based on his teachings, which were in turn based on the Arizal.

Still, we do not know who it was that composed Shalom Aleichem. Whatever the case, within a century it had become popular enough that there were those who opposed singing it. One of these opponents was Rabbi Yakov Emden (1697-1776). He published his own siddur, where Shalom Aleichem is missing. He pointed out several issues with the song, including the absurd request for angels (and not God Himself) to bless us (although earlier Jewish works don’t necessarily have a problem with this), and the strange wording of the song, especially the word “mimelekh”. Amazingly, modern versions of Rabbi Emden’s Beit Yakov siddur do include Shalom Aleichem! The earliest Beit Yakov siddur I could find was from 1881, which has Shalom Aleichem in full, though without that problematic word mimelekh.

Shalom Aleichem, with commentary, in an 1881 Beit Yakov siddur

The commentary in this version of Beit Yakov explains that the custom of singing Shalom Aleichem is based on the Talmudic statement (Shabbat 119b) that when one comes home from the synagogue on Friday evening he is followed by two angels:

Rav Chisda said in the name of Mar Ukva: “One who prays on Shabbat evening and recites Vaykhulu, the two ministering angels who accompany the person at all times place their hands on his head and say to him: ‘And your iniquity has passed, and your sin has been atoned.’” [Isaiah 6:7] It was taught [in a Baraita]: Rabbi Yose bar Yehuda says: “Two ministering angels accompany a person on Shabbat evening from the synagogue to his home, one good angel and one bad angel. And when he reaches his home and finds a candle burning and a table set and his bed made, the good angel says: ‘May it be Your will that it shall be like this for another Shabbat.’ And the bad angel answers against his will: ‘Amen.’ And if the person’s home is not prepared for Shabbat in that manner, the bad angel says: ‘May it be Your will that it shall be so for another Shabbat,’ and the good angel answers against his will: ‘Amen.’”

It is these angels that Shalom Aleichem is apparently referring to. The angels are welcomed into the home, asked to give us their blessing, and to head back out. We see above that one of the angels is a kategor, a “prosecutor”. As we learned from the Arizal, saying shalom aleichem three times eliminates kitrug, “prosecution”, thus neutralizing that “bad” angel.

As for the argument that the song is requesting blessings from angels, I believe the second argument regarding the strange wording of mimelekh actually serves to neutralize the first argument. This line is meant to remind the singer and the audience that, of course, we are really just request a blessing from God Himself—through His messenger angels (something that happens many times in the Torah)—hence the words “From the King of Kings, the Holy One, blessed be He” (מִמֶּלֶךְ מַלְכֵי הַמְּלָכִים הַקָּדוֹשׁ בָּרוּךְ הוּא). We are welcoming the angels that are coming our way mimelekh, “from the King”, and who are blessing us mimelekh, “from the King”.

To summarize, Shalom Aleichem probably did not emerge among the early Tzfat Kabbalists, nor was it recited by the Arizal as some believe. It had only become widely popular by the middle of the 18th century. The identity of the author remains unknown.

So, should we recite Shalom Aleichem, or not? For those who have reservations (like Rabbi Emden, and apparently also the Vilna Gaon) and feel strongly that it should be skipped (or wish to mirror the early Tzfat Kabbalists as closely as possible), they have on whom to rely. However, it is difficult to avoid such a deeply-rooted and widely-accepted custom. Ultimately, the song is based on a Talmudic passage, speaks only of positive things, and affirms God is the “King of Kings”. It is a mystical, albeit mysterious song, and a beautiful, peaceful way to start the Sabbath festivities.

The Secret Connection between Tu b’Shevat and Tu b’Av

Today we celebrate the holiday of Tu b’Shevat, the “new year for trees”. It is customary to consume a variety of fruits, especially the Seven Species of Israel (pomegranates, olives, dates, figs, and grapes, plus wheat and barley). In Israel, it has become customary to plant a tree. Some are familiar with a Tu b’Shevat “seder” that parallels the Passover seder and includes drinking four cups of wine. This seder emerged in the mystical circle of the Arizal (Rabbi Isaac Luria, 1534-1572), though wasn’t publicly written about until nearly two centuries later.

According to the Kabbalistic seder, one should actually eat of three types of fruits: those that are inedible on the outside but edible on the inside (like nuts or bananas); then those that are edible from the outside but not on the inside (like dates or olives); and finally those that are entirely edible (like figs or blueberries). This represents a transition from tough kelipot to no kelipot at all. The term kelipot literally means “peels” or “husks”, and plays a huge role in the Kabbalah of the Arizal. Man’s purpose is to symbolically break the kelipot and extract the sparks of holiness trapped within. Thus, on Tu b’Shevat one starts by eating fruits with a tough exterior, then proceeds to eating fruits with a smaller kelipa (a hard pit deep inside), and finally eats a completely edible fruit with no kelipa. The last represents a perfect, restored world. It is symbolic of the Garden of Eden where, in Jewish tradition, all trees and all parts of trees were completely edible—even their bark and wood!

In ancient times, Tu b’Shevat served a far more practical function. As the Mishnah states (Rosh Hashanah 1:1), Tu b’Shevat is one of the four “new years” of the Jewish calendar, and begins a new agricultural cycle. It opens a new season for tithes, and was vital for tracking the ages of trees. According to the Torah, it is forbidden to consume the fruits that a tree produces in its first three years (Leviticus 19:23). This is known as the mitzvah of orlah. It is therefore vital to know a tree’s age, so Tu b’Shevat is significant as it is considered a tree’s “birthday”.

Having said that, the same Mishnah says that Rosh Hashanah (the first of Tishrei) is the new year for “planting”. This suggests that Rosh Hashanah might be a tree’s birthday, too! That is indeed the case, and results in some interesting legal ramifications. The Talmud discusses them at length (starting on page 14a of Rosh Hashanah), as do the various commentators and legal authorities.

One of the points to be considered is that a tree does not have to be a full three years old, rather it can be in the third year of the agricultural cycle. So, for example, if a tree was planted several weeks before Rosh Hashanah, it may be counted as being in its first “year”. Once Rosh Hashanah hits, the tree enters its second year, even though it has only been alive for several weeks! Halachically, a tree must be planted at least 44 days before Rosh Hashanah to qualify. If it is planted within 44 days before Rosh Hashanah, then it would have to wait until the next Rosh Hashanah for its first birthday. Tu b’Shevat, meanwhile, plays a larger halachic role with regards to when the fruits of the tree ripen.

Hidden within this little-known law is a mystical secret that ties together the two “Tu” holidays of Judaism: Tu b’Shevat and Tu b’Av.

Enter Tu b’Av

Young Girls Dancing on Tu B’Av (Courtesy: Temple Institute)

The holiday of Tu b’Av is most-associated with love and marriage, for the Mishnah (Ta’anit 4:8) states that on this day “the daughters of Jerusalem used to go out in white garments… and danced in the vineyards, exclaiming: ‘Young man! Lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself…’” Tu b’Av marked the start of the grape harvest, and on that day all the single ladies would go out to the vineyards to find their matches. It appears everyone would get married in one massive wedding, and so the Mishnah states that “no days were more joyous” for Israel.

At first glance, it may seem like there is no connection between Tu b’Shevat and Tu b’Av, other than the fact that they are both on the fifteenth of the month, and take place exactly six months apart. Upon closer examination, one will discover the two are deeply linked.

We saw above that a tree must be planted at least 44 days before Rosh Hashanah to be considered in its first year. The month immediately preceding Rosh Hashanah, Elul, has 29 days. Count another 15 days before that, and we find that 44 days before Rosh Hashanah is Tu b’Av! Thus, while Tu b’Shevat marks the start of a new agricultural season, Tu b’Av may very well mark its end, being the last day that a tree can be planted to qualify for its first birthday.

Similarly, while Tu b’Shevat is important for the tithing of fruits, it is on Tu b’Av that the final fruit harvest of the year begins. The Mishnah states that the last major harvest of the year began on Tu b’Av and continued until Yom Kippur. Then, on Sukkot, the nation ascended to Jerusalem with their fruits in hand to celebrate the final harvest festival. A new fruit begins its journey on Tu b’Shevat (when the earliest new year’s sap starts following in a tree, as the Talmud describes), and concludes its journey on Tu b’Av, by which point it is ready for harvest. The ancient Israelites would begin working their fields on Tu b’Shevat, and reap their rewards on Tu b’Av.

This connection between Tu b’Shevat and Tu b’Av is actually alluded to in the Mishnah cited above:

…on these days the daughters of Jerusalem used to walk out in white garments… and danced in the vineyards, exclaiming: “Young man! Lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself. Do not set your eyes on beauty, but on family. ‘Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain, a woman who fears God shall be praised.’ [Proverbs 31:30] And it further states: ‘Give her from the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.’” [Proverbs 31:31]

The young ladies would remind the bachelors that they shouldn’t select a bride based on her appearance, but that she comes from a good family, and has virtuous character. They go on to quote the famous verse from King Solomon’s Eshet Chayil that a God-fearing woman is better than a beautiful one. Peculiarly, the following verse, too, is added: “Give her from the fruit of her hands…” Some say it was the ladies who said this extra verse, while others say that this is what the men replied to the ladies. Whatever the case, the allusion to fruits is clear. The hard work that began on Tu b’Shevat culminates in the fruits of that labour on Tu b’Av.

Chopping Trees, Breaking Axes

Digging deeper, one finds that Tu b’Av happens to be associated with trees, too. In the times of the Temple, there was a special offering called korban etzim, “the wood offering”. The term is first mentioned in the Tanakh (Nehemiah 10:35), where the priests cast lots to determine who would get the honour of bringing the wood offering. The wood was used to burn the special flames of the sacrificial altar, which the Torah commands must never be put out (Leviticus 6:5). The Torah states that the Kohen would add a fresh supply of wood every morning. Where did the wood come from? It was chopped from surrounding forests and brought into the Temple in a special ceremony that took place nine times a year (Ta’anit 4:5). The most important was the fifteenth of Av, Tu b’Av, for on that day another ceremony took place (Ta’anit 31a):

Rabbah and Rav Yosef both said: “[Tu b’Av] was the day on which they stopped felling trees for the altar.” It has been taught: Rabbi Eliezer the Great said: “From the fifteenth of Av onwards the strength of the sun grows less and they no longer felled trees for the altar, because they would not dry [sufficiently]”. Rav Menashya said: “And they called it the ‘Day of the Breaking of the Axe.’”

The Talmud tells us that Tu b’Av was the last day of the year to harvest wood for the Temple. There was a special ceremony where the lumberjack’s axe was symbolically broken. No more trees would be felled until the following year. Tu b’Shevat might be a tree’s birthday, but Tu b’Av is a tree’s happiest day! We might say that trees and Jews have this in common—no day was “more joyous” for them.

This brings us right back to where we started: the Tu b’Shevat seder prescribes eating a set of fruits culminating in those that are entirely edible, symbolic of our return to the Garden of Eden. In Eden, there was no need at all to fell trees. Man was in complete harmony with his surroundings. A tree could be eaten—even its bark and wood could be eaten—without any detriment to the tree, for nothing died in Eden.

Perhaps the Breaking of the Axe ceremony was so important because it symbolized that return to the Garden, a return to a perfect world. It represented a future time when the nations “will beat their swords into plowshares” (Isaiah 2:4), when all weapons will be broken, when nothing will need to be destroyed. None will die, whether man, or the “man of the field”, as the Torah calls the tree (Deuteronomy 20:19). This brings us to one final insight.

Love and Trees

The major theme of Tu b’Shevat is trees, while the major theme of Tu b’Av is love. If the two holidays really are so intricately linked, what does the theme of one have to do with the other?

The Love Trees of St. Augustine, Florida

When we ponder our relationship with trees, we recognize that we simply couldn’t exist without them. They provide us with food to eat and wood to build our homes. From them we derive life-saving medicines, indispensable compounds, and the very oxygen that we breathe. Amazingly, they require nothing in return from us. Trees are a lesson in unconditional giving.

And this is the key to true love. Love can only flourish where there is unconditional giving. This is obviously true for a parent-child relationship. A parent gives endlessly to their young child, and expects little in return (while receiving a tremendous amount of stress, no less) yet loves the little one immeasurably.

The very same is possible between spouses. It is certainly much more difficult, as we are partnering with grown adults and our expectations naturally tend to be high. However, if we condition ourselves to give unconditionally, we have the chance to develop the highest level of love. When each spouse carries that mindset, and learns to truly give to the other unconditionally, there is no doubt that the marriage will be fruitful in every way.

Chag sameach!

Should You Wear a Red String on Your Wrist?

Vestments of the kohen and kohen gadol

This week’s parasha, Tetzave, continues to outline the items necessary for the Mishkan, or Tabernacle, starting with the Menorah and going into a detailed description of the priestly vestments. One of the materials necessary for the holy garments is tola’at shani, commonly translated as “crimson wool”. This was a deep red fabric apparently derived from some kind of insect or worm (which is what the Hebrew “tola’at” means). The Torah speaks of this material in multiple places and in multiple contexts. Today, wearing a “tola’at shani”-like red string on the wrist has become very popular among those calling themselves “Kabbalists” and even by secular Jews and non-Jews. What is the significance of the red fibre, and is there any real spiritual meaning to the red string bracelet?

The First Red String

The earliest mention of a red string is in Genesis 38:27-30, where Tamar gives birth to her twin sons Peretz and Zerach:

And it came to pass in the time of her labour that, behold, twins were in her womb. And in her labour, one hand emerged, and the midwife took a red string [shani] and tied it to his hand saying, “This one came out first.” And he drew back his hand, and behold, his brother came out, and she said: “With what strength have you breached [paratz] yourself?” so his name was called Peretz. And afterward came out his brother that had the red string upon his hand, and his name was called Zerach.

Here, the red string is simply used to designate the firstborn. It didn’t work out as planned, for the other twin ended up coming first. The strong Peretz would go on to be the forefather of King David, and therefore Mashiach, who is sometimes called Ben Partzi. Clearly, wearing the red string wasn’t much of an effective charm for Zerach.

Temple Rituals

In addition to being used in the garments of the priests and various Temple vessels, tola’at shani was employed in a number of sacrificial rituals. In Leviticus 14 we read how someone who had healed from tzara’at, loosely translated as “leprosy”, would bring an offering of two birds which were dipped in a mixture containing the red dye. From this we see that tola’at shani (or shni tola’at, as it appears here) is not necessarily the string itself, but simply the red dye extracted from the insect. Similarly, the red dye was used in the preparation of the parah adumah, “Red Cow”, mixture (Numbers 19) which was used to purify the nation from the impurity of death.

The Talmud (Yoma 67a) describes how a red string was tied to the scapegoat on Yom Kippur. Recall that on Yom Kippur two goats were selected, one being slaughtered and the other being sent off into the wilderness, “to Azazel”. This “scapegoat” had a red string attached to it, and if the string turned white the people would know that their sins had been forgiven, as Isaiah 1:18 states: “…though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool.” Here, then, the red string represents the sin of the people, bound to the scapegoat going to Azazel. If it turned white, it was a good sign, whereas if the string remained red it meant God was unhappy with the nation. Indeed, the Talmud (Yoma 39b) states that in the last forty years before the Second Temple was destroyed, the red string never once turned white.

Red in Kabbalah

In mystical texts, red is typically the colour of Gevurah or Din, severity and judgement. It was therefore generally discouraged to wear red. The Kabbalists often wore garments of all white, and this is still the custom during the High Holidays, a time of particularly great judgement. It was only centuries later that the Chassidic rebbe known as Minchat Eliezer (Rabbi Chaim Elazar Spira of Munkacz, 1868-1937) wrote how having a red cloth may serve to ward off judgement and severity. Another Chassidic rebbe, the Be’er Moshe (Rabbi Moshe Stern of Debreczin, 1890-1971) wrote that he remembered seeing people wear red strings as a child, but did not know why. Still, this does not appear to have been a very popular practice then, nor is it much of a custom among Chassidim now.

1880 Illustration of Rachel’s Tomb

Rather, the red string today has been popularized by The Kabbalah Centre and similar “neo-Kabbalah” movements that cater as much to non-Jews as to secular Jews. The Kabbalah Centre explains that the bracelets are made by taking a long red thread and winding it around Rachel’s Tomb seven times. The thread is then cut into wrist-size lengths, and if worn on the “left wrist, we can receive a vital connection to the protective energies surrounding the tomb of Rachel.” It is not clear where The Kabbalah Centre took this practice from. They claim that the red string wards off the evil eye. While they cite certain passages from the Zohar regarding the evil eye, there doesn’t seem to be any connection to a red string specifically.

The Zohar (II, 139a) does state in one place that the blue tekhelet represents God’s Throne, as is well-known, which means judgement, whereas the red shani is what emerges from the Throne and overpowers the judgement, thus bringing protection upon Israel. The Zohar relates shani to Michael, the guardian angel of Israel, and uses the metaphor of a worm eating through everything to explain the tola’at shani as eating up negative judgement. This is why the famous song Eshet Chayil (Proverbs 31) states that a “woman of valour” has her whole house dressed in shanim (v. 21). She guards her household in this way. (It should be noted that in this passage the Zohar states it is gold which represents Gevurah, and silver represents Chessed. White and red, meanwhile, appear to be aspects within the sefirah of Yesod.)

So, perhaps there is something to wearing a red string.

Bringing Back Shani

The Zohar does not speak of any red string at all, and instead explains the mystical power of the red dye called shani. It is the dye itself that has power, as we see from the Temple rituals noted above. It is well-known that the blue tekhelet dye comes from a certain mollusc or sea snail called chilazon. From where does shani come?

A female and male cochineal bug.

Professor Zohar Amar of Bar Ilan University researched the subject in depth and concluded that tola’at shani is similar to the cochineal insect, famous for producing the red dye carmine (E120) which is extensively used in the food industry. After a round-the-world search, it turned out that a cochineal-like insect is found in Israel as well, and grows on oak trees.

While the cochineal insect is native to South America (where most of the carmine is still produced), its Mediterranean cousin is the oak-dwelling kermes insect. Indeed, kermes was used across the Mediterranean world for millennia, being particularly prized in Greek, Roman, and medieval society. It is best known for its ability to dye wool extremely well. Jerusalem’s Temple Institute was convinced of the professor’s findings, and has begun harvesting the bugs and their red dye in order to produce authentic priestly vestments, as outlined in the Torah.

In light of this, a genuine red string “kabbalah” bracelet—with the protective powers mentioned in the Zohar—would undoubtedly have to be made of wool dyed with kermes red. And according to the Zohar, it probably shouldn’t be worn on the left wrist at all, but instead on the right leg, the body part which the Zohar (II, 148a) states that shani corresponds to.

Imitating Pagans

Judaism is very sensitive about not imitating the ways of the pagans, or darkei Emori. One example of this, as we wrote in the past, is kapparot, which the Ramban (among others) called an idolatrous practice. The Tosefta (Shabbat, ch. 7) has a list of practices that are considered darkei Emori, and one of them is “tying a red string on one’s finger”. So, already two millennia ago it seems there were Jews tying red strings on their body, and the Tosefta (which is essentially equivalent to the Mishnah) forbids it.

The Hindu kalava looks suspiciously similar to the “kabbalah” red string.

In fact, Hinduism has a custom to wear a red string called kalava around one’s wrist in order to ward off evil. This is precisely what The Kabbalah Centre claims their red string accomplishes. Based on this alone it would be best to avoid wearing such a red string. The Lubavitcher Rebbe was one of the recent authorities who stated that the red string should not be worn due to darkei Emori. Factoring in that the red string has no basis in the Zohar or any traditional Jewish mystical text is all the more reason to stay away from this practice.