Do you believe in divination?

In Part 2 of our series about magical practices in Israel, we explore the art of fortune-telling.

A man in Cameroon attempts to tell the future by interpreting the changes in position of various objects as caused by a freshwater crab through the practice of nggàm. (photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
A man in Cameroon attempts to tell the future by interpreting the changes in position of various objects as caused by a freshwater crab through the practice of nggàm.
(photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)
After living in Israel for only a short time, I was surprised and even shocked by the extent that superstition and magical practices influence the daily lives of many citizens, regardless of age, religious beliefs or background. In a series of three articles I’ve set out to share what I’ve learnt. Part 1 examined the Jewish opinion on magic, particularly the difference presented in the Talmud between miracles – performed by the devout as a reward for their faith in God – and black magic, forbidden by Jewish law, though not denied.
Part 2 explores divination, the act of fortune-telling.
Like most sorcery, this is given its fair share of attention in the Talmud. In Tractate Shabbat, Rabbi Hanina states, “The planetary influence gives wisdom, the planetary influence gives wealth, and Israel stands under planetary influence.” Rabbi Yohanan, however, maintained that Israel is immune from planetary influence, or “mazal.” After looking into both tasseography – the art of reading tea leaves or coffee grounds – and tarot cards, I, like most modern Jewish authorities, am inclined to agree with Rabbi Yohanan. I have documented my experiences for you, so that you can decide for yourselves.
Tasseography Tasseography, the art of reading tea leaves to predict the future, is most commonly found in Israel in a different form: reading Turkish coffee grounds. Given the popularity of botz (mud), Israel’s endearing term for Turkish coffee that leaves a thick layer of grounds at the bottom of the mug, tasseography is alive and kicking here in the Holy Land.
The best case I came across for this practice came from my ever-skeptical grandmother (not, I should note, the grandmother mentioned in Part 1 who won’t purchase a green car for superstitious reasons).
Many years ago, while dining with Turkish friends, she witnessed them reading the grounds of their coffee. Intrigued yet cynical, she asked them to read her own cup. After glancing at the clock and noting that it was getting late – 11:10 p.m. – they agreed to fit in a quick reading. The coffee sediments revealed the unmistakable shape of a large, foreboding-looking bird, its wings spread. My grandmother’s friends glanced at each other, looking “shifty,” and urged my grandmother to go home. “It’s late,” they said, “and you are right, this is a silly indulgence, there is no meaning to it.”
After insisting on a reading, it appeared that such a large, clear symbol was the sign of something ominous.
Upon arriving home, my grandparents received a call that my grandfather’s mother had died – at 11:10 p.m.
While my grandmother appears to have been “lucky” with an alarmingly accurate reading, my own search for those gifted in tasseography wasn’t as successful.
Most people I consulted with were in agreement that those practicing were charlatans who would rob me blind.
“In Turkey there are gifted readers,” explained a Turkish friend, “but here they are expensive and liars.” Oh. “If you need a fake one, I can do it in a very Turkish way,” she kindly offered.
It seems that my bad luck may have been a blessing in disguise – was it karma? The hamsa bracelet I had bought in the shuk the previous week? More than a couple of Israelis have been caught out by seemingly fraudulent individuals in the guise of fortune-tellers.
Sana Kuma, tasseographer to the stars for 25 years, found herself in hot water back in 2007, when a dissatisfied police officer reported Kuma to the government after he paid $2,200 for amulets to heal his sick father, who died regardless.
While tasseography and fortune-telling in general are indeed illegal here, the laws pertaining to magical practices are vague. Both astrology and tarot card reading are permitted; to be found guilty of magic, the prosecution must prove that the defendant was purposefully pretending to have such powers. Armed with a good lawyer and tales of walking with saints and encounters with dwarfs, the government found it too difficult to prove that Kuma was a fake, ordering her to issue a refund to her disgruntled customer in return for the charges against her to be dropped.
Fortune-telling A tip-off from social media led me to the Tel Aviv Central Bus Station, where a woman sits surrounded by hamsas, crystals, photos of the Lubavitcher Rebbe and amulets – she clearly isn’t taking any chances. Here, she will tell you your fortune. For a fee, of course. NIS 100 for a full reading, and NIS 20 for a single question.
Though I was skeptical initially, I found myself secretly hoping that after such a recommendation, this lady could be the real deal. Her credentials were certainly on point; she told me that she had made this her living for more than 20 years. Unfortunately, she seemed to be having an off day.
After one member of the party I had dragged along for moral support asked where she would live in the future, the “fortune-telling” – flipping a pile of tarot cards in a seemingly random pattern – began. First, the lady predicted this girl would find a boyfriend. Unfortunately, her actual boyfriend of two years was standing right behind her, leading to a slightly awkward moment. The fortune-teller soldiered on, in the manner of chatty grandmother-meets-subpar-therapist. No predictions were made, no answers were given, it seems our NIS 20 had earned us no more than a good old chat.
Though I left disheartened and slightly guilty at my companion’s loss of NIS 20, I was a little relieved. The possibility that this woman could peer into our futures and narrate them to us was unsettling, to say the least.
The saddest part of the whole experience was the woman waiting her turn as we pushed the fortune- teller for a scrap of information that would leave us in awe: a modestly dressed religious woman with a head covering who nervously hovered while we chatted. It seemed that this lady was a regular and, based only on first impressions, did not have a lot of money. It made my heart hurt to think she would spend what little she had on such a scam.
Unlike evil eye practices, which are open to interpretation, divination is either accurate or wrong.
Call me a cynic, but I have found that it tends to lean toward the latter.
In Part 3, the writer will explore modern-day manifestations of magic, from spiritual healers to superstitions.