The Identity and Meaning of Chashmonai

November 27, 2013, 8:08 am

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The Identity and Meaning of Chashmonai [1]

By Mitchell First (MFirstatty@aol.com)

The name Chashmonai appears many times in the Babylonian Talmud, but usually the references are vague. The references are either to beit Chashmonai, malkhut Chashmonai, malkhut beit Chashmonai, malkhei beit Chashmonai, or beit dino shel Chashmonai.[2] One time (at Megillah 11a) the reference is to an individual named Chashmonai, but neither his father nor his sons are named.

The term Chashmonai (with the spelling חשמוניי) appears two times in the Jerusalem Talmud, once in the second chapter of Taanit and the other in a parallel passage in the first chapter of Megillah.[3] Both times the reference is to the story of Judah defeating the Syrian military commander Nicanor,[4] although Judah is not mentioned by name. In the passage in Taanit, the reference is to echad mi-shel beit Chashmonai.[5] In the passage in Megillah, the reference is to echad mi-shel Chashmonai. Almost certainly, the passage in Taanit preserves the original reading.[6] If so, the reference is again vague.

Critically, the name Chashmonai is not found in any form in I or II Maccabees, our main sources for the historical background of the events of Chanukkah.[7] But fortunately the name does appear in two sources in Tannaitic literature.[8]It is only through one of these two sources that we can get a handle on the identity of Chashmonai.

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Already in the late first century, the identity of Chashmonai seems to have been a mystery to Josephus. (Josephus must have heard of the name from his extensive Pharisaic education, and from being from the family.) In his Jewish War, he identifies Chashmonaias the father of Mattathias.[9] Later, at XII, 265 of his Antiquities, he identifies Chashmonai as the great-grandfather of Mattathias.[10] Probably, his approach here is the result of his knowing from I Maccabees 2:1 that Mattathias was the son of a John who was the son of a Simon, and deciding to integrate the name Chashmonai with this data by making him the father of Simon.[11]It is very likely that Josephus had no actual knowledge of the identity of Chashmonaiand was just speculating here. It is too coincidental that he places Chashmonaias the father of Simon, where this room for him. If Josephus truly had a tradition from his family about the specific identity of Chashmonai, it would already have been included in his Jewish War.

The standard printed text at Megillah 11a implies that Chashmonai is not Mattathias: she-he-emadeti lahem Shimon ha-Tzaddik ve-Chashmonai u-vanav u-Matityah kohen gadol…This is also the implication of the standard printed text at Soferim 20:8, when it sets forth the Palestinian version of the Amidah insertion for Chanukkah; the textincludes the phrase: Matityahu ben Yochanan kohen gadol ve-Chashmonai u-vanav...[12] There are also midrashim on Chanukkah that refer to a Chashmonai who was a separate person from Mattathias and who was instrumental in the revolt.[13]

But the fact that I Maccabees does not mention any separate individual named Chashmonaiinvolved in the revolt strongly suggests that there was no such individual. Moreover, there are alternative readings at both Megillah 11a and Soferim20:8.[14] Also, the midrashim on Chanukkah that refer to a Chashmonai who was a separate person from Mattathias are late midrashim.[15] In the prevalent version of Al ha-Nissimtoday, Chashmonai has no vavpreceding it.[16]

If there was no separate person named Chashmonai at the time of the revolt, and if the statement of Josephus that Chashmonai was the great-grandfather of Mattathias is only a conjecture, who was Chashmonai?

Let us look at our two earliest sources for Chashmonai. One of these is M. Middot 1:6.[17]

…המוקדבביתהיולשכותארבע

[18]…ייוןמלכיששיקצוםהמזבחאבניאתחשמונייבניגנזובהצפוניתמזרחית

From here, it seems that Chashmonai is just another name for Mattathias. This is also the implication of Chashmonai in many of the later passages.[19]

The other Tannaitic source for Chashmonaiis Seder Olam, chap. 30. Here the language is: malkhut beit Chashmonai meah ve-shalosh =the dynasty of the House of Chashmonai, 103 [years].[20] Although one does not have to interpret Chashmonaihere as a reference to Mattathias, this interpretation does fit this passage.

Thus a reasonable approach based on these two early sources is to interpret Chashmonai as another way of referring to Mattathias.[21] But we still do not know why these sources would refer to him in this way. Of course, one possibility is that it was his additional name.[22] Just like each of his five sons had an additional name,[23]perhaps Chashmonai was the additional name of Mattathias.[24] But I Maccabees, which stated that each of Mattathias’ sons had an additional name, did not make any such statement in the case of Mattathias himself.

Perhaps we should not deduce much from this omission. Nothing required the author of I Maccabees to mention that Mattathias had an additional name. But one scholar has suggested an interesting reason for the omission. It is very likely that a main purpose of I Maccabees was the glorification of Mattathias in order to legitimize the rule of his descendants.[25] Their rule needed legitimization because the family was not from the priestly watch of Yedayah. Traditionally, the high priest came from this watch.[26] I Maccabees achieves its purpose by portraying a zealous Mattathias and creating parallels between Mattathias and the Biblical Pinchas, who was rewarded with the priesthood for his zealousness.[27]Perhaps, it has been suggested, the author of I Maccabees left out the additional name for Mattathias because it would remind readers of the obscure origin of the dynasty.[28](We will discuss why this might have been the case when we discuss the meaning of the name in the next section.)

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We have seen that a reasonable approach, based on the two earliest rabbinic sources, is to interpret Chashmonai as another way of referring to Mattathias.

The next question is the meaning of the name. The name could be based on the name of some earlier ancestor of Mattathias. But we have no clear knowledge of any ancestor of Mattathias with this name.[29] Moreover, this only begs the question of where the earlier ancestor would have obtained this name.[30] The most widely held view is that the name Chashmonai derives from a place that some ancestor of Mattathias hailed from a few generations earlier. (Mattathias and his immediate ancestors hailed from Modin.[31]) For example, Joshua 15:27 refers to a place called Cheshmon in the area of the tribe of Judah.[32]Alternatively, a location Chashmonah is mentioned at Numbers 33:29-30 as one of the places that the Israelites encamped in the desert.[33] In either of these interpretations, the name may have reminded others of the obscure origin of Mattathias’ ancestors and hence the author of I Maccabees might have refrained from using it.

It has also been observed that the word חשמנים (Chashmanim) occurs at Psalms 68:32:

.לאלקיםמני מצרים; כוש תריץ ידיוחַשְׁמַנִּיםיאתיו

Chashmanimwill come out of Egypt; Kush shall hasten her hands to God.

(The context is that the nations of the world are bringing gifts and singing to God.[34])

It has been suggested that the name Chashmonaiis related to חשמניםhere.[35] Unfortunately, this is the only time the word חשמנים appears in Tanakh, so its meaning is unclear.[36] The Septuagint translates it as πρέσβεις (=ambassadors).[37] The Talmud seems to imply that it means “gifts.”[38] Based on a similar word in Egyptian, the meanings “bronze,” “natron” (a mixture used for many purposes including as a dye), and “amethyst” (a quartz of blue or purplish color) can be suggested.[39] Ugaritic and Akkadian have a similar word with the meaning of a color, or colored stone, or a coloring of dyed wool or leather; the color being perhaps red-purple, blue, or green.[40] Based on this, meanings such as red cloth or blue cloth have been suggested.[41] Based on similar words in Arabic, “oil” and “horses and chariots” have been proposed.[42] A connection to another hapax legomenon, אשמנים,[43]has also been suggested. אשמנים perhaps means darkness,[44] in which case חשמנים, if related, may mean dark-skinned people.[45]Finally, it has been suggested thatחשמנים derives from the word שמן (oil), and that it refers to important people, i.e., nobles, because the original meaning is “one who gives off light.” (This is akin to “illustrious” in English).[46]

But the simplest interpretation is that it refers to a people by the name חשמנים.[47] An argument in favor of this is that חשמנים seems to be parallel to Kush, another people, in this verse. Also, יאתיוis an active form; it means “will come,” and not “will be brought.”[48]

Whatever the meaning of the word חשמנים, I would like to raise the possibility that an ancestor of Mattathias lived in Egypt for a period and that people began to call him something like Chashmonai upon his return, based on this verse.

Conclusions

Even though Josephus identifies Chashmonaias the great-grandfather of Mattathias, this was probably just speculation. It is too coincidental that he places Chashmonai as the father of Simon, precisely where this room for him.

The most reasonable approach, based on the earliest rabbinic sources, is to interpret Chashmonaias another way of referring to Mattathias, either because it was his additional name or for some other reason. A main purpose of I Maccabees was the glorification of Mattathias in order to legitimize the rule of his descendants. This may have led the author of I Maccabees to leave the name out; the author would not have wanted to remind readers of the obscure origin of the dynasty.

Most probably, the name Chashmonaiderives from a place that some ancestor of the family hailed from.

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A few other points:

º Most probably, the name חשמונאי did not originally include an aleph. The two earliest Mishnah manuscripts, Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138), spell the name חשמוניי.[49]This is also how the name is spelled in the two passages in the Jerusalem Talmud.[50]As is the case with many other names that end with אי (such as שמאי), the aleph is probably a later addition that reflects the spelling practice in Babylonia.[51]

º The plural חשמונאים is not found in the rabbinic literature of the Tannaitic or Amoraic periods,[52]and seems to be a later development.[53] (An alternative plural that also arose is חשמונים; this plural probably arose earlier than the former.[54]) This raises the issue of whether the name was ever used in the plural in the Second Temple period.

The first recorded use of the name in the plural is by Josephus, writing in Greek in the decades after the destruction of the Temple.[55] It is possible that the name was never used as a group name or family name in Temple times and that we have been misled by the use of the plural by Josephus.[56] On the other hand, it is possible that by the time of Josephus the plural had already come into use and Josephus was merely following prevailing usage. In this approach, how early the plural came into use remains a question.

Since there is no evidence that the name was used as a family or group name at the time of Mattathias himself, the common translation in Al ha-Nissim: “the Hasmonean” (see, e.g.,the Complete ArtScroll Siddur, p. 115) is misleading. It implies that he was one of a group or family using this name at this time. A better translation would be “Chashmonai,” implying that it was a description/additional name of Mattathias alone.

° The last issue that needs to be addressed is the date of Al ha-Nissim.

According to most scholars, the daily Amidahwas not instituted until the time of R. Gamliel, and even then the precise text was not fixed.[57] Probably, there was no Amidah at all for most of the Second Temple period.[58] The only Amidot that perhaps came into existence in some form in the late Second Temple period were those for the Sabbath and Biblical festivals.[59]Based on all of the above, it is extremely unlikely that any part of our text of Al ha-Nissim dates to the Hasmonean period.

The concept of an insertion in the Amidah for Chanukkah is found already at Tosefta Berakhot 3:14. See also, in the Jerusalem Talmud, Berakhot 4:1 and 7:4, and in the Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 24a, and perhaps Shabbat 21b.[60]But exactly what was being recited in the Tannaitic and Amoraic periods remains unknown. The version recited today largely parallels what is found in the sources from Geonic Babylonia. The version recited in Palestine in the parallel period was much shorter. See Soferim 20:8 (20:6, ed. Higger).[61]The fact that the Babylonian and Palestinian versions differ so greatly suggests that the main text that we recite today for Al ha-Nissim is not Tannaitic in origin. On the other hand, both versions do include a line that begins biymei Matityah(u), so perhaps this line is a core line and could date as early as the late first century or the second century C.E.[62]

In any event, the prevalent version of Al ha-Nissim today, Matityahu … kohen gadol Chashmonai u-vanav, can easily be understood as utilizing Chashmonai as an additional name for Mattathias. But this may just be coincidence. It is possible that the author knew of both names, did not understand the difference between them, and merely placed them next to one another.[63]

On the other hand, we have seen the reading ve-Chashmonai in both Al ha-Nissim and Tractate Soferim. Perhaps this was the original reading, similar to the reading in many manuscripts of Megillah 11a. Perhaps all of these texts were originally composed with the assumption that Mattathias and Chashmonai were separate individuals. But there is also a strong possibility that these vavs arose later based on a failure to understand that the reference to Chashmonaiwas also a reference to Mattathias.

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Postscript: Anyone who is not satisfied with my explanations for Chashmonai can adopt the explanation intuited by my friend David Gertler when he was a child. His teacher was talking to the class about Mattityahu-Chashmonai and his five sons, without providing any explanation of the name Chashmonai. David reasoned: it must be that he is called חשמניbecause he had five sons (i.e., חמשי metathesized into חשמי/חשמני)![64]

[1] I would like to thank Rabbi Avrohom Lieberman, Rabbi Ezra Frazer, and Sam Borodach for reviewing the draft.

I will spell the name Chashmonaithroughout, as is the modern convention, even though the vav has a shurukin the Kaufmann manuscript of the Mishnah and Chashmunai may be the original pronunciation

[2] The references to beit dino shel Chashmonai are at Sanhedrin 82a and Avodah Zarah 36b.

The balance of the references are at: Shabbat 21b, Menachot 28b and 64b, Kiddushin 70b, Sotah 49b, Yoma 16a, Rosh ha-Shanah 18b and 24b, Taanit 18b, Megillah 6a, Avodah Zarah 9a, 43a, and 52b, Bava Kamma 82b, and Bava Batra 3b. For passages in classical midrashic literature that include the name Chashmonai, see, e.g.,Bereshit Rabbah 99:2, Bereshit Rabbah 97 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1225), Tanchuma Vayechi 14, Tanchuma Vayechi, ed. Buber, p. 219, Tanchuma Shofetim 7, Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, p. 107 (ed. Mandelbaum), and Pesikta Rabbati 5a and 23a (ed. Ish Shalom). See also Midrash ha-Gadol to Genesis 49:28 (p. 866). The name is also found in the Targum to I Sam. 2:4 and Song of Songs 6:7.

The name is also found in sources such as Al ha-Nissim, the scholion to Megillat Taanit, Tractate Soferim, Seder Olam Zuta, and Midrash Tehillim. These will be discussed further below.

The name is also found in Megillat Antiochus. This work, originally composed in Aramaic, seems to refer to bnei Chashmunai and/or beit Chashmunai. See Menachem Tzvi Kadari, “Megillat Antiochus ha-Aramit,” Bar Ilan 1 (1963), p. 100 (verse 61 and notes) and p. 101 (verse 64 and notes). There is also perhaps a reference to the individual. See the added paragraph at p. 101 (bottom). This work is generally viewed as very unreliable. See, e.g.,EJ 14:1046-47. Most likely, it was composed in Babylonia in the Geonic period. See Aryeh Kasher, “Ha-Reka ha-Historiy le-Chiburah shel Megillat Antiochus,” in Bezalel Bar-Kochva, ed., Ha-Tekufah ha-Selukit be-Eretz Yisrael (1980), pp. 85-102, and Zeev Safrai, “The Scroll of Antiochus and the Scroll of Fasts,” in The Literature of the Sages, vol. 2, eds. Shmuel Safrai, Zeev Safrai, Joshua Schwartz, and Peter J. Tomson (2006). A Hebrew translation of Megillat Antiochuswas included in sources such as the Siddur Otzar ha-Tefillot and in the Birnbaum Siddur.

[3] Taanit 2:8 (66a) and Megillah 1:3 (70c). In the Piotrkow edition, the passages are at Taanit 2:12 and Megillah 1:4.

[4] This took place in 161 B.C.E. On this event, see I Macc. 7:26-49, II Macc. 15:1-36, and Josephus, Antiquities XII, 402-412.The story is also found at Taanit 18b, where the name of the victor is given more generally as malkhut beit Chashmonai.

[5]Mi-shel and beit are combined and written as one word in the Leiden manuscript. Also, there is a chirikunder the nun. See Yaakov Zusman’s 2001 edition of the Leiden manuscript, p. 717.

[6] The phrase echad mi-shel Chashmonai is awkward and unusual; it seems fairly obvious that a word such as beit is missing. Vered Noam, in her discussion of the passages in the Jerusalem Talmud about Judah defeating Nicanor, adopts the reading in Taanit and never even mentions the reading in Megillah. See her Megillat Taanit (2003), p. 300.

There are no manuscripts of the passage in Megillah other than the Leiden manuscript. There is another manuscript of the passage in Taanit. It is from the Genizah and probably dates earlier than the Leiden manuscript (copied in 1289). It reads echad mi-shel-beit Chashmonai. See Levi (Louis) Ginzberg, Seridei ha-Yerushalmi (1909), p. 180.

Mi-shel and Chashmonai are combined and written as one word in the Leiden manuscript of the passage in Megillah and there is no vocalization under the nun of Chashmonai here.

[7] I Maccabees was probably composed after the death of John Hyrcanus in 104 B.C.E., or at least when his reign was well-advanced. See I Macc. 16:23-24. II Maccabees is largely an abridgment of the work of someone named Jason of Cyrene. This Jason is otherwise unknown. Many scholars believe that he was a contemporary of Judah. Mattathias is not mentioned in II Macc. The main plot of the Chanukkah story (=the persecution of the Jews by Antiochus IV and the Jewish rededication of the Temple) took place over the years 167-164 B.C.E.

[8] M. Middot 1:6 (benei Chashmonai) and Seder Olam, chap. 30 (malkhut beit Chashmonai).

[9] I, 36. This view is also found in Seder Olam Zuta, chap. 8.

Earlier, at I, 19, he wrote that Antiochus Epiphanes was expelled by ’Ασαμωναίου παίδων (“the sons of” Chashmonai; see the Loeb edition, p. 13, note a. ). This perhaps implies an equation of Chashmonai and Mattathias, But παίδων probably means “descendants of” here.

[10] XII, 265. Jonathan Goldstein in his I Maccabees(Anchor Bible, 1976), p. 19, prefers a different translation of the Greek here. He claims that, in this passage, Josephus identifies Chashmonaiwith Simon. But Goldstein’s translation of this passage is not the one adopted by most scholars.

There are also passages in Antiquitiesthat could imply that Chashmonai is to be identified with Mattathias. See XX, 190, 238, and 249. But παίδων probably has the meaning of “descendants of ” (and not “sons of”) in these passages, and there is no such identification implied.

The ancient table of contents that prefaces book XII of Antiquities identifies Chashmonai as the father of Mattathias. See Antiquities, XII, pp. 706-07, Loeb edition. (This edition publishes these tables of contents at the end of each book.) But these tables of contents may not have been composed by Josephus but by his assistants. Alternatively, they may have been composed centuries later.

In his autobiographical work Life (paras. 2 and 4), Josephus mentions Chashmonai as his ancestor. But the statements are too vague to determine his identity. This work was composed a few years after Antiquities.

[11] Goldstein suggests (pp. 60-61) that Josephus did not have I Macc. in front of him when writing his Jewish War, even though Goldstein believes that Josephus had read it and was utilizing his recollection of it as a source. Another view is that Josephus drew his sketch of Hasmonean history in his Jewish War mainly from the gentile historian Nicolaus of Damascus.

Most likely, even when writing Antiquities, Josephus did not have II Macc. or the work of Jason of Cyrene. See, e.g., Daniel Schwartz, Sefer Makabimב (2008), pp. 30 and 58-59, Isaiah M. Gafni, “Josephus and I Maccabees,” in Josephus, the Bible, and history, eds. Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata (1989), p. 130, n. 39, and Menachem Stern, “Moto shel Chonyo ha-Shelishi,” Tziyyon 25 (1960), p. 11.

[12] I am not referring to the Palestinian version as Al ha-Nissim, since it lacks this phrase.

The text of Al ha-Nissim in the Seder R. Amram (ed. Goldschmidt, p. 97) is the same (except that it reads Matityah). See also R. Abraham Ha-Yarchi (12th cent.), Ha-Manhig (ed. Raphael), vol. 2, p. 528, which refers to Matityah kohen gadol ve-Chashmonai u-vanav, and seems to be quoting here from an earlier midrashic source. Finally, see Midrash Tehillim, chap. 30:6 which refers to Chashmonai u-vanav and then to beney Matityahu. The passages clearly imply that these are different groups.

[13] See the midrashim on Chanukkah first published by Adolf Jellinek in the mid-19^th century, later republished by Judah David Eisenstein in his Otzar Midrashim (1915). Mattathias and Chashmonaiare clearly two separate individuals in the texts which Einsenstein calls Midrash Maaseh Chanukkah and Maaseh Chanukkah, Nusach‘ב. See also Rashi to Deut. 33:11 (referring to twelve sons of Chashmonai).

[14] As I write this, Lieberman-institute.com records four manuscripts that have Chashmonaiwith the initial vav like the Vilna edition, two manuscripts that have Chashmonaiwithout the initial vav (Goettingen 3, and Oxford Opp. Add. fol. 23), and one manuscript (Munich 95) that does not have the name at all. (Another manuscript does not have the name but it is too fragmentary.) There are three more manuscripts of Megillah 11a, aside from what is presently recorded on Lieberman-institute.com. See Yaakov Zusman, Otzar Kivei ha-Yad ha-Talmudiyyim(2012), vol. 3, p. 211. I have not checked these.

With regard to the passage in Soferim 20:8, there is at least one manuscript that readsחשמונאי (without the initial vav). See Michael Higger, ed., Massekhet Soferim(1937), p. 346, line 35 (text). (It seems that Higger printed the reading of ms.ב in the text here.)

[15] These midrashim are estimated to have been compiled in the 10th century. EJ 11:1511.

[16] The prevalent version is based on the Siddur Rav Saadiah Gaon (p. 255): Matityah ben Yochanan kohen gadol Chashmonai u-vanav.This version too can be read as reflecting the idea that Chashmonai was a separate person.

[17] Middot is a tractate that perhaps reached close to complete form earlier than most of the other tractates. See Abraham Goldberg, “The Mishna- A Study Book of Halakha,” in The Literature of the Sages, vol. 1, ed. Shmuel Safrai (1987).

[18] The above is the text in the Kaufmann Mishnah manuscript. Regarding the word beney, this is the reading in both the Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscripts. Admittedly, other manuscripts of Mishnah Middot 1:6, such as the one included in the Munich manuscript of the Talmud, read ganzu beit Chashmonai.But the Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscripts are generally viewed as the most reliable ones. Moreover, the beit reading does not fit the context. Since the references to Chashmonai in the Babylonian Talmud are often prefixed by the word beit and are never prefixed by the word beney, we can understand how an erroneous reading of beit could have crept into the Mishnah here.

The Mishnah in Middot is quoted at Yoma 16a and Avodah Zarah 52b. At Yoma 16a, Lieberman-institute.com presently records five manuscripts or early printed editions with beit, and none with bnei. At Avodah Zarah 52b, it records three with beitand one with beney. (The Vilna edition has beit in both places.)

Regarding the spelling חשמוניי in the Mishnah, most likely, this was the original spelling of the name. See the discussion below.

[19] See, e.g.,Bereshit Rabbah 99:2: חשמונאי בני ביד נופלת יון מלכות מי ביד, Bereshit Rabbah 97 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1225): לוישלמשבטוהיוחשמוניישבני, Pesikta Rabbati5a, Tanchuma Vayechi 14, Tanchuma Vayechi, ed. Buber, p. 219, Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, p. 107, and Midrash ha-Gadol to Genesis 49:28. See also the midrash published by Jacob Mann and Isaiah Sonne in The Bible as Read and Preached in the Old Synagogue, vol. 2 (1966), p. עב.

I also must mention the scholion to Megillat Taanit. (I am not talking about Megillat Taanit itself. There are no references to Chashmonai there.) As Vered Noam has shown in her critical edition of Megillat Taanit, the two most important manuscripts to the scholion are the Parma manuscript and the Oxford manuscript.

If we look at the Parma manuscript to the scholion to 25 Kislev, it uses the phrase nikhnesu beney Chashmonai le-har ha-bayit, implying that the author of this passage viewed Chashmonaias Mattathias.

On 14 Sivan, the Oxford manuscript of the scholion tells us that חשמונאיידוכשגברה, the city of קסרי was conquered. Probably, the author of this passage is referring to the acquisition of Caesarea by Alexander Yannai, and the author is using Chashmonai loosely. Probably the author meant beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai. (One of these may even have been the original text.)

On 15-16 Sivan, the Parma manuscript of the scholion tells us about the military victory of חשמונאיבני over Beit Shean. We know from Josephus (AntiquitiesXIII, 275-83 and Jewish War I, 64-66) that this was a victory that occurred in the time of John Hyrcanus and that his the sons were the leaders in the battle. But it would be a leap to deduce that the author of this passage believed that John was חשמונאי. Probably, the author was using חשמונאיבניloosely and meant beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai. Not surprisingly, the Oxford manuscript has beit Chashmonai here.

In the balance of the passages in the scholion, if we look only at the Parma and Oxford manuscripts, references to beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai are found at 23 Iyyar, 27 Iyyar, 24 Av, 3 Tishrei, 23 Marchesvan, 3 Kislev, 25 Kislev, and 13 Adar.

[20] This passage is quoted at Avodah Zarah 9a. In the Vilna edition, the passage reads malkhut Chashmonai. The three manuscripts presently recorded at Lieberman-Institute.com all include the beitpreceding חשמונאי. The other source recorded there is the Pesaro printed edition of 1515. This source reads חשמוניימלכות.

[21] One can also make this argument based on the passage in the first chapter of Megillah in the Jerusalem Talmud: משלחשמונייאחדויצא. This passage tells a story about Judah (without mentioning him by name). But the parallel passage in the second chapter of Taanit reads: חשמונייביתמשלאחדאליוויצא. As pointed out earlier, almost certainly this is the original reading. Moreover, if a passage intended to refer to a son of Chashmonai, the reading we would expect would be: חשמוניימבניאחד ויצא.

[22] Goldstein, p. 19, n. 34, writes that the Byzantine chronicler Georgius Syncellus (c. 800) wrote that Asamόnaios was Mattathias’ additional name. Surely, this was just a conjecture by the chronicler or whatever source was before him.

[23] The additional names for the sons were: Makkabaios (Μακκαβαîος), Gaddi (Γαδδι), Thassi (Θασσι), Auaran (Αυαραν) and Apphous (Απφους). These were the names for Judah, John, Simon, Eleazar and Jonathan, respectively. See I Macc. 2:2-4.

[24] See, e.g., Goldstein, pp. 18-19. Goldstein also writes (p. 19):

Our pattern of given name(s) plus surname did not exist among ancient Jews, who bore

only a given name. The names of Mattathias and his sons were extremely common in

Jewish priestly families. Where many persons in a society bear the same name, there

must be some way to distinguish one from another. Often the way is to add to the over-

common given name other names or epithets. These additional appellations may describe

the person or his feats or his ancestry or his place of origin; they may even be taunt-epithets.

The names Mattityah and Mattiyahu do occur in Tanakh, at I Ch. 9:31, 15:18, 15:21, 16:5, 25:3, 25:21, Ezra 10:43, and Nehemiah 8:4. But to say that that these names were common prior to the valorous deeds of Mattathias and his sons is still conjectural. (Admittedly, the names did become common thereafter.)

[25] See, e.g.,Daniel R. Schwartz, “The other in 1 and 2 Maccabees,” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity, eds. Graham N. Stanton and Guy G. Stroumsa (1998), p. 30, Gafni, pp. 119 and 131 n. 49, and Goldstein, pp. 7 and 12. See particularly I Macc. 5:62.

As mentioned earlier, I Maccabees was probably composed after the death of John Hyrcanus in 104 BCE, or at least when his reign was well-advanced. See I Macc. 16:23-24.

[26] According to I Macc. 2:1, Mattathias was from the priestly watch of Yehoyariv. Of course, even if he would have been from the watch of Yedayah, the rule of his descendants would have needed legitimization because they were priests and not from the tribe of Judah or the Davidic line.

[27] See, e.g., Goldstein, pp. 5-7 and I Macc. 2:26 and 2:54. Of course, the parallel to Pinchas is not perfect. As a result of his zealousness, Pinchas became a priest; he did not become the high priest.

[28]Goldstein, pp. 17-19. Josephus, writing after the destruction of the Temple and not attempting to legitimize the dynasty, would not have had this concern. (I am hesitant to agree with Goldstein on anything, as his editions of I and II Maccabees are filled with far-reaching speculations. Nevertheless, I am willing to take his suggestion seriously here.)

[29] As mentioned earlier, the identification by Josephus of Chashmonai as the great-grandfather of Mattathias is probably just speculation.

[30] It has been suggested that it was the name of an ancestor. See, e.g., H. St. J. Thackeray, ed., Josephus: Life(Loeb Classical Library, 1926), p. 3, who theorizes that the Hasmoneans were named after “an eponymous hero Hashmon.” Julius Wellhausen theorized that, at I Macc. 2:1, the original reading was “son of Hashmon,” and not “son of Simon.” See Emil Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ, revised and edited by Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black, vol. 1 (1973), p. 194, n. 14.

[31] See I Macc. 2:70, 9:19, and 13:25.

[32] See, e.g.,Isaac Baer, Avodat Yisrael (1868), p. 101, EJ 7:1455, and Chanukah (ArtScroll Mesorah Series, 1981), p. 68.

[33] See, e.g.,EJ 7:1455. Another less likely alternative is to link the name with Chushim of the tribe of Benjamin, mentioned at I Ch. 8:11.

[34] The probable implication of the second part of verse 32 is that the people of Kush will hasten to spread their hands in prayer, or hasten to bring gifts with their hands. See Daat Mikra to 68:32.

[35] This is raised as a possibility by many scholars. Some of the rabbinic commentaries that suggest this include R. Abraham Ibn Ezra and Radak. See their commentaries on Ps. 68:32. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim,חשמן, and R. Yosef Caro, Beit Yosef, OH 682. The unknown author of Maoz Tzur also seems to adopt this approach (perhaps only because he was trying to rhyme with השמנים).

[36] Some scholars are willing to emend the text. See, for example, the suggested emendations at Encyclopedia Mikrait 3:317, entry חשמנים(such as משמנים = from the oil.) The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (1906) writes that there is “doubtless” a textual error here.

[37] So too, Origen (third century).

Some Rishonim interpret the termחשמנים here as rulers or people of importance. See, e.g.,the commentaries on Psalms 68:32 of Ibn Ezra (סגנים) and Radak. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim, חשמן, and R. Yosef Caro, Beit Yosef, OH 682. What motivates this interpretation is the use of the term in connection with Mattathias. But we do not know the meaning of the term in connection with Mattathias.

[38] See Pes. 118b (דורון). Perhaps supporting this is verse 68:30 (lekha yovilu melakhim shai). See Rashbam to Pes. 118b. Also, the interpretation מנותדורונות is found at Midrash Tehillim(ed. Buber, p. 320). It also seems to be the view of Rashi.

[39] On the Egyptian wordḥsmn as bronze or natron, and reading one of these into this verse, see William F. Albright, “A Catalogue of Early Hebrew Lyric Poems,” Hebrew Union College Annual 23 (1950-51), pp. 33-34. Jeremy Black, “Amethysts,” Iraq 63 (2001), pp. 183-186, explains that ḥsmn also has the meaning amethyst in Egyptian. But he does not read this into Ps. 68:32. (He reads it into the Biblical חשמל.)

[40] See, e.g., Black, ibid., and Itamar Singer, “Purple-Dyers in Lazpa,” kubaba.univ-paris1.fr/recherche/antiquite/atlanta.pdf.

[41] Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament (1994), vol. 1, p. 362, interpret “bronze articles or red cloths.” Mitchell Dahood, Psalms II:51-100 (Anchor Bible, 1968) interprets “blue cloth.”

Based on the Akkadian, George Wolf suggests thatחשמנים refers to nobles and high officials because they wore purple clothing. See his Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Early Rabbinic Judaism (1994), p. 94

[42] For “oil,” see Encyclopedia Mikrait 3:317, entry חשמנים (one of the many possible interpretations mentioned there). For “horses and chariots,” see Daat Mikrato 68:32 (citing the scholar Arnold Ehrlich and the reference to the coming of horses and chariots at Is. 66:20).

[43] See Is. 59:10 באשמנים (in the ashmanim).

[44] Ernest Klein, A Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the Hebrew Language for Readers of English (1987), p. 58, writes that it usually translated as “darkness.” Some Rishonim who adopt this interpretation are Menachem ben Saruk (quoted in Rashi) and Ibn Janach. Note also the parallel to Psalms 143:3. On the other hand, the parallel to בצהרים at Is. 59:10 suggests that the meaning of באשמנים is “in the light,” as argued by Solomon Mandelkern in his concordance Heikhal ha-Kodesh (1896), p. 158.

[45] See Midrash Tehillim (ed. Buber, p. 320): שחורים אנשים. This is the fourth interpretation suggested there. Buber puts the second, third, and fourth interpretations in parenthesis, as he believes they were not in the original text. The first interpretation is מנותדורונות. The second and third interpretations are farfetched plays on words.

Also, the original reading in the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan translation of חשמנים seems to be אוכמנא or אוכמנאי, meaning “dark people.” See David M. Stec, The Targum of Psalms (2004) p. 133. The standard printed editions have a different reading (based on an early printed edition) and imply that חשמנים was the name of a particular Egyptian tribe.

[46] See Mandelkern, p. 433, who cites this view even though he disagrees with it.

[47] A modern scholar who takes this approach is Menachem Tzvi Kadari. See his Millon ha-Ivrit ha-Mikrait (2006). This also seems to be the approach taken in the standard printed edition of the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, even though this does not seem to be the original reading. See also Rashi to Ps. 68:32, citing Menachem ben Saruk who claims that they are the residents of Chashmonah. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim,חשמן(second suggestion) and Mandelkern, p. 433.

Gen. 10:14 mentions כסלחים as one of the sons of Mitzrayim. Interestingly, one of the three early texts of the Septuagint (codex Alexandrinus, fifth cent.) reads Χασμωνιειμ (=Chasmonieim) here. If this were the original reading, this would suggest that there were a people called Hashmanim (or something similar) in second century B.C.E. Egypt. But the Sinaiticus and Vaticanus codices (which are earlier than the Alexandrinus codex) do not have this reading; they have something closer to the Hebrew. Most likely, the reading in the Alexandrinus codex is just a later textual corruption. See John William Wevers, Notes on the Greek Text of Genesis (1993), p. 136.

[48] See similarly Deut. 33:21, Proverbs 1:27, Isaiah 41:5 and 41:25, and Job 3:25, 16:22, 30:14, and 37:22.

[49]The Kaufmann manuscript dates to the tenth or eleventh century. The Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscript dates to the eleventh century. The vocalization in both was inserted later. In the Kaufmann manuscript, there is a patach under the nun and a chirik under the first yod. Also, the vavis dotted with a shuruk. (The Parma manuscript does not have vocalization in tractate Middot; the manuscript is not vocalized throughout.).

The Leiden manuscript of the Jerusalem Talmud includes a chirik under the nun in the passage in Taanit (66a). See Zusman’s 2001 edition of the Leiden manuscript, p. 717. There is no vocalization under the nun in the passage in Megillah (70c).

[50] חשמונאי is the spelling in all but one of the manuscripts and early printed editions of Seder Olam. One manuscript spells the name חשמוני. See Chaim Joseph Milikowsky, Seder Olam: A Rabbinic Chronography (1981), p. 440.

Also, חשמוניי is the spelling in the text of Pesikta de-Rav Kahana that was published by Bernard Mandelbaum in his critical edition of this work (p. 107). (But see the notes for the variant readings.) Also, חשמוניי is the spelling in the text of the Theodor-Albeck edition of Bereshit Rabbah, at section 97 (p. 1225). (But see the notes for the variant readings.). See also ibid., p. 1274, note to line 6 (חשמניי).

Also, Lieberman-institute.com cites one manuscript of Menachot 64b with the spelling חשמוניי. This is also the spelling used by R. Eleazar Kallir (early seventh century). See his piyyutfor Chanukkah לצלעינכוןאיד (to be published by Ophir Münz-Manor).

[51] I would like to thank Prof. Richard Steiner for pointing this out to me.

[52] Jastrow, entry חשמונאי, cites the plural as appearing in some editions of Bava Kama 82b (but not in the Vilna edition.) Lieberman-institute.com presently records five manuscripts of Bava Kama 82b. All have the word in the singular here.

The EJ (7:1454) has an entry “Hasmonean Bet Din.” The entry has a Hebrew title as well: חשמונאיםשלדיןבית. The entry cites to Sanhedrin 82a and Avodah Zarah 36b, and refers to “the court of the Hasmoneans.” (In the new edition of the EJ, the same entry is republished.) Yet none of the manuscripts presently recorded at Lieberman-institute.com on these two passages have the plural. (Lieberman-institute.com presently records two manuscripts of Sanhedrin 82a and three manuscripts of Avodah Zarah 36b. According to Zusman, Otzar Kivei Ha-Yad Ha-Talmudiyyim, vol. 3, p. 233 and 235, there are three more manuscripts of Sanhedrin 82a extant. I have not checked these.)

Probably, the reason for the use of the plural in the EJ entry is that scholars began to use the plural for this mysterious bet din, despite the two references in Talmud being in the singular. See, e.g., Zacharias Frankel, Darkhei ha-Mishnah (1859), p. 43.

Other erroneous citations to a supposed word חשמונאים are found atChanukah (ArtScroll Mesorah Series), p. 68, n. 6.

[53] The earliest references to this plural that I am are aware of are at Midrash Tehillim 5:11 (ובניו חשמונאים), and 93:1 (חשמונאיםבני). But it is possible that חשמונאיםmay not be the original reading in either of these passages. The reference at 5:11 is obviously problematic. Also, the line may be a later addition to the work. See Midrash Tehillim, ed. Buber, p. 56, n. 66. (This work also refers to חשמונאיבית and ובניוחשמונאי. See 22:9, 30:6, and 36:6.) The next earliest use of this plural that I am aware of is at Bereshit Rabbati, section Vayechi, p. 253 (ed. Albeck): חשמונאיםבני. This work is generally viewed as an adaptation of an earlier (lost) work by R. Moshe ha-Darshan (11^th cent.)

[54]חשמונים is found in the piyyutשמנהכלאעדיף by R. Eleazar Kallir (early seventh century) and in the works of several eighth century paytannimas well. Perhaps even earlier are the references in Seder Olam Zuta.See, e.g., the text of this work published by Adolf Neubauer in his Seder ha-Chakhamim ve-Korot ha-Yamim, vol. 2 (1895), pp. 71, 74 and 75. See also the Theodor-Albeck edition of Bereshit Rabbah, section 97, p. 1225, notes to line 2, recording a variant with the reading חשמונים. Also, Yosippon always refers to theחשמונים when referring to the group in the plural. (In the singular, his references are toחשמונאי and חשמוניי.) Also, Lieberman-institute.com cites one manuscript of Megillah 6a (Columbia X 893 T 141) with the reading חשמונים.

[55] See his Jewish War, II, 344, and V, 139, and AntiquitiesXV,403 (Loeb edition, p. 194, but see n. 1).

[56] It is interesting that a similar development occurred in connection with the name “Maccabee.” The name was originally an additional name of Judah only. Centuries later, all of the brothers came to be referred to by the early church fathers as “Maccabees.” See Goldstein, pp. 3-4.

[57] See, e.g., Allen Friedman, “The Amida’s Biblical and Historical Roots: Some New Perspectives,” Tradition 45:3 (2012), pp. 21-34, and the many references there. Friedman writes (pp. 26-27):

The first two points to be noted concerning the Amida’s history are that: (1) R. Gamliel

and his colleagues in late first-century CE Yavneh created the institution of the Amida,

its nineteen particular subjects, and the order of those subjects, though not their

fully-fixed text, and (2) this creation was a critical part of the Rabbinic response to the

great theological challenge posed by the Second Temple’s destruction and the ensuing

exile…

The Vilna Gaon, Part 1: How Modern Was He?

December 4, 2013, 6:50 pm

≫ Next: Book Review: Simon Schama, The Story of the Jews: Finding the Words, 1000 BCE – 1492 CE

≪ Previous: The Identity and Meaning of Chashmonai

The Vilna Gaon, Part 1 How Modern Was He?

by Marc B. Shapiro

Eliyahu Stern, The Genius: Elijah of Vilna and the Making of Modern Judaism (New Haven, 2013)

Eliyahu Stern has set for himself a daunting task and argues his case with conviction. He intends to correct a widespread assumption shared not only by the general public, but by the scholarly community as well. According to this narrative, the Vilna Gaon (hereafter the Gaon) should not be seen as a traditionalist defender of the past, but actually a modern Jew and one who helped usher in the modern era in Jewish history. In Stern's words, "I [have] come to believe that [Jacob] Katz's and [Michael K.] Silber's notion of tradition and traditionalism fails to explain the experience of the overwhelming majority of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century eastern European Jews who did not spend their days either combating the Western European secular pursuit of science, philosophy and mathematics or holding onto the same political and social structures of their sixteenth- and seventeenth-century ancestors. Katz and Silber might have been right about [R. Moses] Sofer. . . . But figures such as the Gaon of Vilna or Hayyim of Volozhin (the Gaon's student and Sofer's contemporary), who did not express hostility toward modernity, elude their grasp" (p. 7).

This is quite a claim, and it would be a major revision of the historical picture if Stern could prove the point. Stern also argues that the Gaon's notes to the sixteenth-century legal code Shulhan Arukh were influential in Jews moving away from a "code-based learning culture supported by the kehilah" (p. 11).[1]

By focusing on Talmud study for its own sake rather than for the sake of determining the halakhah, a paradigm shift occurred in which commentary replaced code. This occurred at the very time that the yeshiva took the place of the kehilah, as seen in the establishment of the Volozhin yeshiva by the Gaon's disciple, R. Hayyim. Thus, the hierarchy of religious authority was restructured, which leads to what Stern refers to as "religious privatization" (p. 11). As he sees it, "The Volozhin yeshiva was founded not in opposition to the cultural and intellectual upheavals of the nineteenth century. It was itself built on the most modern of assumptions, the separation of public and private spheres" (p. 141). Stern even makes the bold claim that in certain respects the Gaon was more modern than Mendelssohn, arguing that "it was the Gaon's hermeneutic idealism that called into question the canons of rabbinic authority, while Mendelssohn tirelessly defended the historical legitimacy of the rabbinic tradition to German-speaking audiences" (p. 64). In seeking to turn the Gaon into a more modern Jew, one who is not, as standard scholarship assumes, an opponent of philosophy, Stern even argues that the Gaon did not believe in "demons, magic, [and] charms" (p. 129).[2]

After mentioning that the Gaon is embodied in the Jewish residents of Tel Aviv and New York, who live as though they are majorities, Stern concludes his book with this striking assertion: "From the birth of the State of Israel, to the Jews' involvement in radical anti-statist modern political movements, to the creation of a robust vibrant Jewish life in the United States, Jewish modernity derives much of its intellectual dynamism, social confidence, and political assertiveness from an astonishing source: the brilliant writings and untamed personality of Elijah ben Solomon" (p. 171).

As with all revisionist theses there is bound to be reluctance to accept a new paradigm. The successful revisionist thesis is the one able to withstand the initial skepticism. Does Stern's thesis fall into this category? Despite his enthusiastic and tempting arguments, I am not convinced. Reading the book, I could not help wonder if, for example, drawing contrasts with the thought of Leibniz offers any real insight into the thought of the Gaon. We know that the Gaon was fearless in emending rabbinic texts, but for Stern, "Elijah's emendation project addresses the charge that Leibnizian idealism leaves no room for the possibility of progress, redemption, and critique. . . . Elijah embroidered the theological concept of evil around the idea of textual error" (p. 61). Isn't this reading too much into what the Gaon had in mind? Why does the approach of the Gaon have to be given such theological weight that Stern can conclude that "emendation is the path toward redemption and a restored original harmony" (p. 62)?[3]

In another example of his revisionist approach, Stern argues that the Gaon did not oppose philosophy. Rather, "Elijah's problem with Maimonides revolves around issues of linguistics, interpretation, and hermeneutics and not whether it is permissible to read secular philosophy" (p. 130). As noted already, Stern also assumes that the Gaon did not really believe in "demons, magic, charms and other irrational objects" (p. 129). There is no question in my mind that Stern is in error here. Because the Gaon was a traditional Jew, whose approach to the classical rabbinic texts was not influenced by rationalist philosophy, this is precisely why he believed in demons, magic, and charms. The only reason to reject these things, as did Maimonides, is because one is influenced by rationalist thought.

I see no evidence that the Gaon was influenced in any substantial way by such knowledge, and his occasional use of Aristotelian terminology does not by itself indicate real influence. Furthermore, everything in his writings leads one to believe that when it came to the occult his mental universe was no different than the great rabbis of his time and subsequent to him, for whom demons did indeed exist. In his famous attack on Maimonides, found in his comment to Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 179:13, he specifically mentioned the efficacy of magic, and contrary to Stern this is to be taken literally.[4]

In fact, a few notes later, 179:26-28, which are not mentioned by Stern, the Gaon again wrote about demons, mentioned that one is permitted to consult with them if it is not the Sabbath, and cited talmudic and midrashic texts that show humans interacting with demons.[5] The Gaon's position in this matter does not need to be explained. Pretty much every traditional Jew in his day believed in demons, and he did as well. It is Maimonides' opinion that is not traditional.

Stern leaves it as an open question whether the Vilna Gaon called philosophy "accursed" (p. 245). This is obviously an important issue, since if Stern is correct that the Gaon was not really opposed to philosophy, one would not expect him to use the word "accursed." Yet there is no doubt that the Gaon did indeed use this word. It appears in the first printing of the Gaon's commentary to the Shulhan Arukh, and its authenticity was attested to by R. Samuel Luria who examined that actual manuscript. Only later was the word removed by the publisher. Contrary to what Stern states, Samuel Joseph Fuenn, Matisyahu Strashun, and Hillel-Noah Maggid Steinschneider do not claim that later editors put in this phrase. The one to make this assertion was R. Zvi Hirsch Katzenellenbogen, and he was hardly a neutral observer.[6]

Several other issues emerge in the book. Stern quotes Aliyot Eliyahu as stating that before the age of thirteen the Gaon was "studying books on engineering for half an hour a day" (p. 38). I am not sure why Stern mentions anything about "thirteen," as the text is explicit that he was around eight years old. Furthermore, the text says nothing about "engineering." Rather, it states that the Gaon studied astronomy (tekhunah).

Stern writes that the Gaon "rejected outright" the Shulhan Arukh (p. 60). This is a strange statement being that the Gaon wrote a commentary on the Shulhan Arukh. Furthermore, this commentary was designed to show the earlier rabbinic sources upon which the Shulhan Arukh's laws were based. It is true that there are many times when the Gaon disagreed with the Shulhan Arukh. However, what is significant with the Gaon is precisely that he accepted the Shulhan Arukh. He had the stature to reject it had he chosen, and to write his own code, yet he did the exact opposite. By attaching his notes to the Shulhan Arukh he was affirming the work. He personally did not need the Shulhan Arukh and would decide halakhah from the Talmud and rishonim. But when the Shulhan Arukh decided the halakhah correctly, he was content to show the sources for the law, meaning that the work had value and that is why he affirmed it.[7]

Contrary to Stern (pp. 77-78), there is no evidence that the Gaon was influenced by Elijah Levita and the Gaon never mentioned him. When the Gaon wrote that the Masorah disagreed with the Talmud, he was referring to how to spell certain words, and this formulation comes from the Tosafists. He was not in any way identifying with Levita's notion that the Hebrew vowels originated in post-talmudic times, and was certainly not addressing "the veracity of the cantillations of the Bible" (p. 78). When the Gaon's son cited Levita, he was also not referring to his view of the vowels, only of the spelling of words.

I do not know what Stern means by "following Nachmanides, the Gaon argues that the book of Deuteronomy was written later than the other four books of the Bible" (p. 80). Quite apart from Nahmanides, this position is found in Gittin 60a, where one view is that the Torah was given "scroll by scroll." Also on p. 80, Stern states that "the Gaon, in contrast, builds on the historical position laid down by Ibn Ezra that the last verses, though inspired by Moses, were actually 'arranged' by Joshua." This has nothing to do with Ibn Ezra as the Talmud already contains the view that the last verses were written by Joshua (saying nothing about being "inspired" by Moses. [Ibn Ezra also says nothing about the last verses being "inspired" by Moses])

On page 133, Stern quotes a passage from the introduction to R. Judah Epstein's Minhat Yehudah (Warsaw, 1877) where he writes of "thousands who came to study and the miracle it would take for one to emerge with any teaching ability." In the Hebrew the final words are "yatza le-hora'ah." This has nothing to do with teaching but refers to the ability to decide halakhic questions. The expression originates in Kohelet Rabbah 7:49.

Finally, he writes that "when the Volozhin yeshiva opened its doors in 1802, it was the first time that young men from all economic and social backgrounds were afforded the opportunity to study" (p. 150, see also p. 162). I know of no evidence to support this assertion. Both before the Volozhin yeshiva's opening and after, opportunities for study were limited to those who could afford to support a child away from home, and give up the income he would bring in for the family.

Even though I am not convinced by Stern's thesis, there is no doubt that this book is filled with learning and insight and has understandably created a good deal of excitement. To appreciate Stern's efforts and ingenuity, one must read very carefully, and this reading will be rewarded in many ways.

******

The review you have just read (with the exception of notes 1-5, 7, and one sentence in brackets) appeared on the H-Judaic listserv on July 19, 2013. In the review I was limited in terms of space and I also could not use Hebrew. So let me now add some additional points and corrections that could not be included in the original. Before doing so I want to stress that I enjoyed Stern’s book a great deal, and I also learnt much from it. The Gaon’s scholarship is so wide-ranging that anyone who attempts such a daunting task as to write on him must be commended.[8]

Stern should also feel gratified that so many people have chosen to use their precious time to write about his book, even if they disagree with him.

Stern’s first chapter, which puts the Gaon and Vilna in historical perspective, was particularly interesting to me. How many people, for instance, are aware of the following (p. 70): “The roughly 5,500 Jews in and around Vilna (Wojewoda) made up nearly 30 percent of the population, and the 3,500 to 4,000 Jews living within Vilna proper formed an overwhelming majority of the local population.”

I strongly recommend that people read the book, if only to see how the talented author attempts to create a completely new perspective on the Gaon. Almost every page of Stern’s book raises issues that I can comment on, and I could easily have written a hundred page post. I agree with much in the book, and can cite sources in support of a number of points Stern makes. Yet this does not change the fact that I was not convinced by his major arguments. Rather than cite all the things I agree with, let me offer some more comments correcting errors, or offering different interpretations, as well as some tangential observations.

P. 14. Stern tells us that the Gaon’s mother was from Slutzk, and on p. 181 he cites a source that supposedly claims that the Gaon was also born in Slutzk. Yet this is incorrect. The town referred to is not Slutzk but סעלץ. This is the shtetl Selets (or Selcz) around 150 kilometers south-east of Brisk.[9]

This information is also found in the Encyclopaedia Judaica entry on the Gaon. There is another Selets in Belorussia, some eight hundred kilometers away,[10] but this is not the town associated with the Gaon. There is no actual proof that the Gaon was born in Selets, but that was the tradition of the town.[11]

P. 15. Stern records how the Gaon wanted to study medicine but was discouraged by his father who wanted his son to devote himself to Torah study. I don’t know if this has any relationship to the Gaon’s unusual (but not unique) view in opposition to using doctors as opposed to turning to God. According to one report, the Gaon only had this view when it came to internal medical problems, but not external ones (e.g., a burn).[12]

P. 17. Stern mentions the report by R. Samuel Luria that the Gaon travelled throughout Europe to find rabbinic manuscripts. Among the legends of these travels is one recorded in the name of R. Joseph Hayyim Sonnenfeld, quoting R. Joshua Leib Diskin, that when the Gaon visited the Munich library and saw the famous manuscript of the Talmud, he said that he would give all the money in the world in order to put it in genizah, because this Talmud was only R. Ashi’s first version (and thus of no authority). This story appears in Menahem Mendel Gerlitz’s Mara de-Ar’a Yisrael (Jerusalem, 1969), vol. 1, p. 57 n. 49. I can’t say whether or not R. Sonnenfeld ever made this comment (and Gerlitz’s book in general is quite unreliable). What I can say is that the story never happened as described for the simple reason that the manuscript only arrived in Munich in 1806, as noted by R. Raphael Rabbinovicz in the introduction to Dikdukei Soferim, vol. 1, p. 35.[13]

P. 44. “He [the Gaon] and his students reinterpreted a strand of kabbalah developed by Abraham Abulafia. . . . Elijah’s circle borrowed heavily from his ideas regarding the mathematical underpinnings of the world.” Unfortunately, this influence is never sufficiently explained and there is confusion about an important text. Thus, Stern writes:

As Menachem Mendel of Shklov wrote, “The word cheshbon [calculus] comes from the word machshava [thought] and this [calculus] is the first form that emerges from the essence of thought.”[14]

To begin with, I don’t know why cheshbon should be translated as “calculus.” I assume it means mathematics.[15] But that is a minor point, as the general meaning of the passage is clear and R. Menahem Mendel of Shklov tells us that this approach was shared by the Gaon. The more important point, however, is that the sentence quoted as having been stated by R. Menahem Mendel was not stated by him at all. R. Menahem Mendel tells us explicitly that the sentence comes from an early book, one that predates R. Isaac Luria. What we learn from Moshe Idel is that this is actually a quotation from Abulafia.[16] Yet this information does not appear in Stern’s book, even though it would have strengthened his case.

Stern also states: “Elijah’s son Avraham approvingly cites the much-maligned Abulafia, and bestows the honorific “z”l” (the Hebrew acronym for “may his memory be blessed”) on the controversial medieval thinker.”

Here is the page in R. Avraham's Rav Pealim.

Unfortunately, Stern must have read too quickly and instead of וז"ל [= וזה לשונו] he read the abbreviation as ז"ל, or perhaps he mistakenly connected the ז"ל on the previous line to ר'אברהם הרואה

Pp. 44ff. Stern argues that according to the Gaon, matter existed eternally and the world was created from this eternal matter. If this was the case, it would be quite significant. Yet I believe that Stern misunderstands what the Gaon is saying. Stern himself quotes the Gaon as explaining that creation means “created from that which exists above.” As I see it, what this means is that matter “found” in the Divine was brought into the world, e.g., through emanation. But this is not the same as speaking of eternal matter, even eternal matter that is lacking form, as these exist apart from God.

With regard to the Gaon and creation, see also R. David Luria’s commentary to Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 51 n. 17, where he cites a manuscript comment of the Gaon that the world is eternally created. This same viewpoint is shared by R. Hayyim of Volozhin, Nefesh ha-Hayyim ch. 13. I don’t see how this can be reconciled with the Gaon’s comment at the beginning of Aderet Eliyahu that time itself is a creation, and he further speaks of an actual moment of the world’s creation:

בראשית: ב'הוא ב'הזמניי. כמו ביום. מפני שהזמן עצמו נברא והב'מורה על עת הבריאה שהיה בחלק הראשון מהזמן הנברא

If matter is eternal, as Stern claims, or even eternally created, then time is also eternal. But this is clearly not what the Gaon says in the text just quoted.

P. 80. Stern notes that the Gaon’s interpretation of the Mishnah was not bound to how the Talmud explained matters. This is correct, and many people have written on the matter. I mention this only to call attention to the comments of the great genius, R. Meshulam Roth, in his Kol Mevasser, vol. 2, pp. 120-121, 128-129, who felt constrained to argue against this notion. I think it will be obvious to readers that R. Roth’s interpretations of the Gaon are based on his own dogmatic assumption, which he states explicitly, that it is unacceptable to interpret the Mishnah in a way that diverges from the talmudic interpretation.

P. 97. Stern writes:

Contrast Elijah’s vision with the picture of intimacy expressed by Rabbi Pinchas of Korzec (1726-1791): “Prayer is like intercourse with the Divine Presence. At the beginning of intercourse there are motions. Similarly, there is a need for motion in prayer. One should move when beginning to pray. Later on, one can stand without moving, attached to the Divine Presence with a powerful bond. As a result of the motions alone one can attain dvekut.”

In the note the source for this quotation is given as Likutim Yekarim, 18, and the bibliography tells us that the edition used is Lemberg, 1792 (the first edition). Yet there is some confusion here. R. Pinchas of Koretz indeed wrote a book entitled Likutim Yekarim, but the book where the passage cited comes from is another Likutim Yekarim, one that records the teachings of other early Hasidic teachers. Here is the title page.

Furthermore, the reader looking at page 18 in the first edition of (the correct) Likutim Yekarim will not find anything, as the text is on page 1a. In the 1974 edition the text is found in section 18, but as far as I can tell, these sections were only added in this edition.[17]

Here is the relevant page from the first edition, and the comment referred to is in the last paragraph. The last sentence of the translation quoted above (“As a result . . .”) is not an accurate rendering of the Hebrew sentence that begins מכח מה שמנענע

P. 102: “While it is doubtful that Elijah endorsed or defended Eibeschuetz’s or Luzzatto’s Sabbatian tendencies, he never publicly condemned their works.” Instead of the word “doubtful,” which leaves some room for question, the sentence should say that “it is certain that Elijah never endorsed or defended . . .” I leave aside for now the question of why Stern is so certain that Luzzatto had Sabbatian tendencies, and simply note that the Gaon would have rejected such an assumption in the strongest terms. The Eibeschuetz case is more complicated,[18] but I don’t understand how “Eibeschuetz’s Sabbatian proclivities were revealed when his son Wolff was unmasked as a closet Sabbatian” (p. 99). Since when do the actions of a son determine the stance of a father?

Let us now return to the issue of the Gaon’s view of philosophy, which was mentioned earlier in this post, and when I refer to philosophy I have in mind rationalism. Stern, p. 129, argues that the Gaon was not opposed to philosophy and as evidence for this proposition notes that the Gaon uses Aristotelian terms, cites the Guide once in his Aderet Eliyahu, and procured a copy of Aristotle’s Ethics. He then writes, “This evidence has led some to suggest that Elijah objected to a materialistic or epicurean lifestyle often associated with philosophy, but not to philosophy’s heuristic value.”

While I think that Stern is indeed correct that the Gaon saw heuristic value in philosophy, I was still quite surprised when I read this sentence, since I had never heard of anyone who argued that the Gaon's only concern with philosophy was the materialistic lifestyle associated with it. When I looked in Stern’s note (p. 246 n. 55) it didn’t help. This is what appears in the note:

See Moshe Philip, ed., Sefer Mishlei im Biur ha-Gra (Petach Tikvah: 2001), 441 and Eliyahu Stern, “Philosophy and Dissimulation in Elijah of Vilna’s Writings and Legacy,” Revue Internationale de Philosophie (forthcoming). On Elijah reading Aristotle, see his letter to Rabbi Shaul of Amsterdam recorded in Tzvi ha-Levi Horowitz, Kitvei ha-Geonim (Warsaw: 1938 [should be 1928]), 3-10.

I don’t know what is intended by the first reference, as there is a typo since the volume does not contain 441 pages. Stern’s forthcoming article can only be discussed when it appears in print, but the book under review does not give any reference to others who argued that the Gaon had no substantive opposition to philosophy. Also, contrary to what Stern states here, the Gaon did not write to R. Saul of Amsterdam asking him to send him the Ethics. The letter Stern refers to was actually written by the Gaon’s brother, R. Yissakhar Ber.[19]

See Kitvei ha-Geonim, p. 4a. On p. 44, Stern states that the letter was written by both the Gaon and his brother. This, I think, is closer to the truth. I say this because the Gaon’s brother requested לקנות בשבילנו ולשלוח לנו, although this could also just be the writing style he used. However, there are lots of reasons why people read books, and this alone does not mean that one is positively inclined to a subject. The greatest of all Jewish philosophers, Maimonides, tells us that he read all the works of Sabian idolatry that he could get his hands on (Guide 3:29). It would also be more significant if instead of the Ethics, the book requested of R. Saul of Amsterdam was Aristotle’s Metaphysics. But I don't want to make too much of this, since I am convinced by Stern that the Gaon saw some value with philosophy. But contrary to Stern, I would add that the Gaon also saw great dangers in philosophy.

In the note directly following the one just referred to, Stern concludes based upon the introduction of R. Menahem Mendel of Shklov to the Gaon’s commentary to Avot and R. Israel of Shklov’s introduction to his Peat ha-Shulhan that “Elijah was secretly positively inclined to the study of philosophy.” He again refers to his forthcoming article where he develops this point. As mentioned already, discussion of this article must wait until it appears in print. In the meantime, however, it is difficult to accept this point without a clear articulation of what exactly Stern means by "study of philosophy", since in R. Israel of Shklov’s introduction to Peat ha-Shulhan he writes as follows:

ועל חכמת הפילוסופי'אמר [הגר"א] שלמד אותה לתכליתה ולא הוציא ממנה רק ב'דברים טובים . . . והשאר צריך להשליכה החוצה.

R. Israel of Shklov also notes that the Gaon knew חכמת הכישוף which contradicts Stern’s statement that according to the Gaon “references to demons, magic, charms, and other irrational objects and ideas cannot be ignored—though not per se because he thinks they actually exist.” (p. 129).

See also Ma’aseh Rav (Jerusalem, 1906), Siah Eliyahu, p. 21b (no. 61(, which states that the Gaon would not study R. Bahya Ibn Paquda's philosophically based Sha’ar ha-Yihud (in the Hovot ha-Levavot):

והי'מחבב הגר"א ז"ל ס'מנורת המאור וס'חובת הלבבות זולת שער היחוד ובמקום שער היחוד הי'אומר שילמדו בס'הכוזרי הראשון שהוא קדוש וטהור ועיקרי אמונת ישראל ותורה תלוין בו.

There is another passage that is relevant, but as far as I know has not been cited in any of the scholarly discussions about the Gaon and philosophy. R. Hillel Rivlin, Kol ha-Tor (Bnei Brak, 1969), ch. 5:2, quotes the Gaon as saying the following about philosophy, and you can’t get any clearer than this:

את חכמת הפילוסיפיה למדה לתכליתה ולא מצא בה כי אם דברים אחדים שמקורם לוקח מחז"ל ועל השאר אמר, שאין בה לא הגיון ולא צדק ומיוסדת על אפיקורסות אווילית.

As mentioned, you can’t get any clearer than this, but I realize that this is not the Gaon speaking but rather a student, so it is possible to argue that he, and also R. Israel of Shklov, didn't properly portray their teacher.

The passage that creates so many problems for Stern’s thesis is found in the Gaon’s commentary to Yoreh Deah 179:13. In this text, the Gaon famously attacks Maimonides for being led astray by “accursed philosophy.”

Stern argues that the Gaon does not oppose the study of (even rationalist) philosophy per se. Rather, his opposition is directed at how “a philosophical approach may ignore linguistic nuance” (p. 129). I think this is very unlikely, and it appears to me that Stern is trying to force his interpretation into the words of the Gaon when the more likely, and natural, interpretation is that the Gaon indeed opposes the study of (rationalist) philosophy.[20] (On p. 130 Stern claims that the Gaon was not opposed to the study of "secular philosophy" which is an even more far-reaching claim.) Beyond what the Gaon writes in his comment on the Shulhan Arukh, there is the way he writes it, which unfortunately is not reflected in Stern’s translation. Here is how Stern renders the first part of the text:

All those who came after Maimonides differed [because they did not use his rational allegorical interpretive technique]. For many times we find magical incantations mentioned in the Talmud. Maimonides and philosophers claimed that such magical writings and incantations, and devils, are all false. However, he [Maimonides] was already reprimanded for such an interpretation. For we have found many accounts in the Talmud about magical incantations and writings. . . . Philosophy is mistaken in a majority of cases when it interprets the Talmud in a superficial manner and destroys the sensus literalis of the text. But one should not think that I in any way, Heaven forbid, actually believe in them or in what they stand for.

In this comment the Gaon writes:

והוא נמשך אחר הפלוסופיא הארורה .

This means that Maimonides “followed after the accursed philosophy.” However, Stern mistakenly translates these words: “Maimonides and philosophers claimed.”

Later in his comment the Gaon writes:

והפלסופיא הטתו ברוב לקחה לפרש הגמרא הכל בדרך הלציי

Stern translates this as “Philosophy is mistaken in a majority of cases when it interprets the Talmud in a superficial manner.” This too is a incorrect translation. What the Gaon is saying is that philosophy misled Maimonides to falsely explain the Talmud. So again, we see the great dangers of philosophy, and how it was able to lead astray even Maimonides. (There is nothing in the Gaon’s comment about “a majority of cases”). The final words quoted from the Gaon, בדרך הלציי, do not mean “superficial manner.” They mean “in a figurative sense.”

What can we say about the Gaon and Maimonides’ Guide? Although I hadn’t investigated the matter properly, for awhile I thought that the Gaon didn’t study the Guide in a serious manner. Anyone who reads Stern will see that this is incorrect. In fact, the Guide was even studied in Vilna during the Gaon’s time. The following passage from Aliyot Eliyahu (Vilna, 1892), p. 13a, should have been cited in the text by Stern as exhibit no. 1, as it is a strong piece of evidence in support of his position. For some reason, it is only summarized in a note (p. 246 n. 58):

וסיפר לי הרב כו'הישיש מ'ישראל גארדאן רב בווילנא (אשר היה מכיר היטב את הגאון נ"ע ודירתו היה בחומת אביו וקודם פטירתו היה דר הגאון בחצר בהכנ"ס) אשר היה נכנס ויוצא כפעם בפעם בבית הגאון נ"ע ושמע פ"א אשר בא הרב ר'טרייטיל ז"ל לפני הגאון והרעיש על אשר ראו עיניו שאנשים קבעו למודם בבהמ"ד בספר מורה נבוכים וביקש שהגאון ימחה בידם והגאון השיבו בחרי אף ואמר ומי יעיז לדבר נגד כבוד הרמב"ם וספרו אשר מי יתנני ואהיה עמו במחיצתו בגן עדן.

There is no question that this report complicates the picture and shows that the Gaon’s view of the Guide was more complex than often portrayed. We see from it that unlike others, the Gaon, despite his strong criticism of Maimonides and general opposition to rationalist philosophy, nevertheless believed that the Guide had value and qualified scholars should not be prevented from studying it.

After quoting this passage in Aliyot Eliyahu, R. Shlomo Korah adds, “There is a story about someone who asked his rebbe if it is permitted to study the Guide. He replied, ‘The Rambam permits it —הרמב"ם מתיר ”.[21]

Alan Brill has also made the case that the Gaon saw value in philosophy and calls attention to the fact that in a text attributed to the Gaon, there is a summary of a section of the Guide. See his "Auxiliary to Hokhmah: The Writings of the Vilna Gaon and Philosophical Terminology, in Moshe Hallamish, et al., eds., Ha-Gra u-Veit Midrasho (Ramat Gan, 2003), p. 10. This shows that philosophy has value, as I too acknowledge, but this has nothing to do with rationalism, which the Gaon strongly opposed.

It is also worth noting that R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady, in responding to the reported theological objections that the Gaon expressed about early hasidut, wrote as follows[22]:

ומי יתן ידעתיו ואנחהו ואערכה לפניו משפטינו להסיר מעלינו כל תלונותיו וטענותיו הפילוסיפיות אשר הלך בעקבותיהם, לפי דברי תלמידיו הנ"ל, לחקור אלקות בשכל אנושי

In other words, and this is really ironic, R. Shneur Zalman assumes that Gaon was led astray by philosophy and that explains his objections![23]

The reason I had my mistaken assumption that the Gaon didn’t study the Guide in any significant way was because the Gaon didn’t refer to it in his commentary to the Shulhan Arukh, even when he had the opportunity, such as in his note to Yoreh Deah 179:13. Another place where he could have referred to the Guide is in the very first halakhah in Orah Hayyim. R. Moses Isserles is quoting from Maimonides’ Guide, and rather than refer the reader to this, the Gaon offers sources for the Rama’s formulation from rabbinic literature. Yet even before reading Stern’s book I should have seen that the Rama in Darkhei Moshe tells us that he is quoting the Guide, and one should assume that the Gaon saw this text.

This is how R. Isserles begins the Darkhei Moshe (and he begins the Shulhan Arukh similarly):

כתב הרמב"ם בספר מורה הנבוכים חלק ג'פרק נב שמיד שאדם ניעור משנתו בבוקר מיד יחשוב בלבו לפני מי הוא שוכב וידע שהמלך מלכי המלכים הקב"ה יתעלה חופף עליו שנאמר (ישעיה ו, ג) ) מלא כל הארץ כבודו.

R. Isserles quotes Maimonides as saying that as soon as you wake up in the morning you should think about God. Yet if you look at Guide 3:52 that he is quoting you find something interesting. Here is the passage in Ibn Tibbon’s translation (which is what the Rama used).

מי שיבחר בשלמות האנושי ושיהיה איש הא-להים באמת יעור משינתו וידע שהמלך הגדול המחופף עליו והדבק עמו תמיד הוא גדול מכל מלך בשר ודם ואילו היה דוד ושלמה, והמלך ההוא הדבק המחופף הוא השכל השופע עלינו שהוא הדבוק אשר בינינו ובין הש"י . . . וכבר ידעת הזהירם מלכת בקומה זקופה, משום מלא כל הארץ כבודו.

Where does the Rama get his formulation that as soon as one awakes – מיד שאדם ניעור משנתו – he should think of God? It comes from Maimonides’ words we just read: יעור משינתו. As pointed out by Raphael Speyer,[24] it seems that the Rama simply misunderstood what Maimonides (in Ibn Tibbon’s translation) was saying. The words יעיר משינתו have nothing to do with awakening from sleep in any literal sense. Rather, the expression simply refers to people who are figuratively awakening from their slumber and can now recognize God’s presence. Therefore, there was no need for the Rama in seeking to make his point to include anything about getting up in the morning.

In the Datche’s editor’s response to Speyer, he pointed out another problem with the Rama’s formulation. While the Rama writes of מלך מלכי המלכים הקב"ה יתעלה חופף עליו, this is not what Maimonides says. According to Maimonides, “this king who cleaves to him and accompanies him is the intellect that overflows toward us and is the bond between us and Him, may He be exalted.” In other words, Maimonides is speaking about the Active Intellect yet the Rama turns this into God Himself. It is because of things like this that Yeshayahu Leibowitz was led to declare that the Rama “didn’t understand philosophy and didn’t understand the Guide of the Perplexed.” He also referred to the Rama’s Torat ha-Olah as a work of “pseudo-philosophy.”[25]

This might seem like an unfair statement, and I am sure that Yonah Ben Sasson would reject it,[26] but consider the following. No one could be regarded as a rabbinic scholar if all he studied was the Mishneh Torah, without examining the talmudic passages upon which the Mishneh Torah is based. In fact, I think all would agree that one can’t really understand the Mishneh Torah without knowing the talmudic sources. By the same token, one can’t really understand the Guide without knowing the Aristotelian sources upon which so much of Maimonides’ words are based. Yet the Rama tells us, in his famous letter to R. Solomon Luria,[27] that he never actually studied Aristotle and his only knowledge of him comes from Maimonides’ Guide and other Jewish sources.

כי אף שהבאתי מקצת דברי אריסטו מעידני עלי שמים וארץ שכל ימי לא עסקתי בשום ספר מספריו רק מה שעסקתי בספר המורה שיגעתי בו ומצאתי ת"ל [תהלה לא-ל] ושאר ספרי הטבע כשער השמים וכדומיהין, שחברו חז"ל ומהם כתבתי מה שכתבתי מדברי אריסטו.

Interestingly, I found one place, Torat ha-Olah 3:47, where the Rama speaks very disrespectfully of Maimonides’ philosophical knowledge, referring to it as foolishness.

ואין לך סכלות חכמתו גדולה מזה

Nevertheless, the Gaon placed the Rama together with Maimonides in his other sharp criticism of the latter[28]:

אבל לא ראו את הפרדס, לא הוא [הרמ"א] ולא הרמב"ם

To be continued

* * * *

Information about my summer trips to Spain, Central Europe, and Italy will be available soon. Anyone interested should check out the Torah in Motion website. Marc Glickman, one of the participants on last year's tour to Central Europe, described it as follows: "It was great to meet Marc and he was a fantastic guide. The trip was like a living Seforim Blog post (I follow his posts religiously)." Thank you Marc!

Also for those interested, I will be speaking on R. Ovadiah Yosef at Ohab Zedek in NYC on December 17 at 8:15pm.

[1] Regarding how influential the Gaon was on Lithuanian rabbinic scholarship, see Gil Perl, The Pillar of Volozhin: Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin and the World of Nineteenth-Century Lithuanian Torah Scholarship (Boston, 2012), pp. 127ff. Perl disputes with Immanuel Etkes and Shaul Stampfer who have argued that the Gaon’s influence has been exaggerated. In terms of the Gaon’s influence on Jewish practice, R. Yaakov Kamenetsky claimed that there were only two places in Lithuania that followed the Gaon’s minhagim, and one of these places was the Gaon’s beit midrash/synagogue (kloiz) in Vilna. See R. Yehoshua Geldzahler, Kodshei Yehoshua (Jerusalem, 1999), vol. 5, p. 1758 (Geldzahler forgot the second place mentioned by R. Kamenetsky.) See also Nathan Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol (Jerusalem, 2002), vol. 1, p. 655.

[2] “In Elijah’s view, references to demons, magic, charms, and other irrational objects and ideas cannot be ignored—though not per se because he thinks they actually exist. (Elijah's admirer Menashe Illya [1767-1831] recalled 'that according to his memory,' Elijah actually 'criticized those who interpreted Midrash according its [!] literal sense when the Midrash went against reason.') Elijah’s criticism against Maimonides was based on the belief that one cannot simply deny or gloss over the anti-rational elements that consistently appear in rabbinic literature. Either they belong in the text or they do not; if they do belong, they must be explained. By not including or explaining them, Elijah contends, Maimonides and ‘philosophers’ fail to take seriously the very words and signs that make up the rabbinic tradition.”

[3] In R. Isaac Herzog's letter about the authority of the Zohar, published by me in Milin Havivin 5 (2010-2011), he quotes R. Abba Werner as saying the following about the Gaon (p. 16):

שהגר"א בבאורו על הזוהר הוא המבקר היותר קשה על הטקסט של הזוהר

R. Mordechai Friedman called my attention to R. Hanokh Ehrentreu, Iyunim be-Divrei Hazal u-ve-Leshonam (Jerusalem, 1978), pp. 184ff., where Ehrentreu prefers a textual emendation of R. Wolf Heidenheim over the emendation suggested by the Gaon. Since I will be dealing with R. Chaim Kanievsky in the next installment, let me mention that he has a tradition that R. Hayyim of Volozhin stated that one of the Gaon's emendations was mistaken: הגר"א טעה. See R. Hayyim Shalom Segal, Berurei Hayyim (Bnei Brak, 2004), vol. 3, p. 924.

[4] In Aderet Eliyahu to Nahum 3:4, the Gaon writes:

בשלשה דברים ישחית איש את רעהו . . . בכשפים: במיני קטורת ממשיכים כחות העליונות אשר מקושרים בלבות בני אדם

[5] See also Aderet Eliyahu to Numbers 23:22 and Hosea 2:20 for other discussions of demons. In Yahel Or (Vilna, 1882), p. 38b (second numbering), the Gaon writes:

ואמרו כי אמן של שדים נעמי [צ"ל נעמה] הולידה אותן מהנפילים לכן חציין מצד אביהן דומה למלה"ש ומצד אמן לב"א

[6] See Samuel Joseph Fuenn, Kiryah Ne'emanah (Vilna, 1860), p. 160. In Stern's book the page number is mistakenly given as p. 169.

[7] Regarding the Gaon and the Shulhan Arukh, see R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, Menuhat Shalom (Jerusalem, 2003), vol. 11, pp. 51-52, who shows that because the Gaon did not have access to the early editions of the work, he mistakenly assumed that a word stated by R. Joseph Karo really belonged to R. Moses Isserles. Although there is no question that Sofer is correct, since we are dealing with the Gaon, here is how Sofer prefaces his correction (which also includes the claim that a reference offered by the Gaon is incorrect).

אמנם עם שאיני כדאי כלל וכלל, עפר יעקב, אומר אני אחר נטילת הרשות, שדברי קדשו של רבינו הגדול הגר"א ז"ל, שגבו ממני, ובאפיסותי לא זכיתי להבין דברות קדשו של הגר"א ז"ל.

[8] Regarding the Gaon, many interesting articles appear in Yeshurun 5 (1999) and 6 (1999). R. Dovid Yitzchaki’s contribution, “Havanat Divrei ha-Gra al Da’at Omram,” Yeshurun 5, pp. 502-537, is of particular value. Jacob Israel Dienstag’s bibliography of writings by and about the Gaon is still worth consulting. See Talpiot 4 (1949), pp. 269-356.

[9] See here.

[10] See here.

[11] See Ha-Levanon, Sep. 18, 1872, p. 26.

[12] See R. Moshe Zuriel, Otzrot ha-Gra (Bnei Brak, 2000), pp. 242f.

[13] See R. Yaakov Wreschner, Seder Yaakov (Jerusalem, 2010), vol. 1, p. 35 (first pagination).

[14] Derekh ha-Kodesh (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 4.

[15] Stern himself translates it as “math” on p. 198 n. 19. Regarding mathematics, in the next post (or maybe the one after) I will defend Stern’s reading of a passage in opposition to the critique of Bezalel Naor here.

[16] See Idel, “Bein ha-Kabbalah ha-Nevuit le-Kabalat R. Menahem Mendel mi-Shklov,” in Moshe Halamish, et al., eds., Ha-Gra u-Veit Midrasho (Ramat Gan, 2003), p. 174-175.

[17] The text were are discussing is also found in Tzava’at ha-Rivash (Brooklyn, 1998), p. 28 no. 68.

[18] See Sid Z. Leiman, “When a Rabbi is Accused of Heresy: The Stance of the Vilna Gaon in the Emden-Eibschuetz Controversy,” in Ezra Fleischer, et al., eds. Meah Shearim: Studies in Medieval Jewish Spiritual Life in Memory of Isadore Twersky (Jerusalem, 2001), pp. 251-263.

[19] The Gaon had five brothers. See Chaim Freedman, Eliyahu’s Branches (Teaneck, 1997), p. 12.

[20] Let us not forget that the Gaon claimed to have had visions of Jacob and Elijah. This comes from a text written by the Gaon and recorded by R. Hayyim of Volozhin in his introduction to the Gaon’s commentary to Sifre de-Tzeniuta. R. Hayyim also reports that the Gaon said that before he was thirteen years old he started to make a golem, before he concluded that Heaven did not want him to continue. The Gaon further told R. Hayyim that he was visited by R. Shimon Ben Yohai and R. Isaac Luria. All of these things are not characteristic of one with a positive attitude towards philosophy.

[21] Sefat Melekh, vol. 1 (commentary to Mishneh Torah, Sefer ha-Mada [Bnei Brak, 1998], p. 53. R. Korah, Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Bnei Brak, is one of the few Yemenites (are there any others?) who studied under R. Aaron Kotler. See his recollections at the beginning of his Haggadah shel Pesah (2003).

[22] David Zvi Hillman, ed., Iggerot Ba’al ha-Tanya u-Venei Doro (Jerusalem, 1953), p. 97.

[23] See R. Matisyahu Strashun, Mivhar Ketavim (Jerusalem, 1969), p. 125 n. 1.

[24] Datche 55 (17 Av 5769), p. 6.

[25] See his Sihot al Pirkei Ta’amei ha-Mitzvot (Jerusalem, 2003), pp. 723-724.

[26] See his Mishnato ha-Iyunit shel Ha-Rama (Jerusalem, 1984).

[27] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rama, ed. Siev (Jerusalem, 1971), no. 7.

[28] Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 246:18.

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Book Review: Simon Schama, The Story of the Jews: Finding the Words, 1000 BCE – 1492 CE

December 9, 2013, 1:46 pm

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Review of Simon Schama, The Story of the Jews: Finding the Words, 1000 BCE – 1492 CE by Marc Saperstein

Simon Schama’s The Story of the Jews, covering the period 1000 BCE to 1492 (actually 1497) CE, was for one week (October 5) at the top of the Guardian Bookshop Bestsellers list: a rare achievement for a serious book of Jewish history covering the pre-modern period. It was published in the middle of five one-hour prime-time Sunday evening BBC television presentations, for which Schama was the narrator, recounting his stories from various locations. The first of the five episodes had over 3 million viewers; the series is also being presented in Sweden.

Schama, University Professor of Art History and History at Columbia, is well-known as a serious academic scholar, and his earlier television presentations have made him into an esteemed public intellectual in his native UK. His elegant writing style arouses envy in many of his historian colleagues. This is his first academic encounter with the broad sweep of Jewish history, and the sincerity of his dedication to the project and personal identification with the Jewish past and present is apparent (a strong Zionist commitment was expressed in the television series; the book as well as the series is punctuated with occasional memories of his family and childhood).

Yet, despite the considerable attractions of the man and the book, as a serious work of Jewish history I consider it to be significantly flawed. It is simply too ambitious for someone who, with all his talents, has never published an academic article on any aspect of Jewish history during the period covered by this volume, who shows no evidence of working directly on any of the relevant primary sources in the original languages, and who documents his reliance on the work of other scholars in an inconsistent and incomplete manner, to produce the kind of work that one can recommend as a source of reliable information about “the story of the Jews”.

The presentation is apparently intended for a general readership, yet the material is set forth with the claim of academic authority as a historian. The author frequently appears to speak for the community of academic scholars on a specialized topic, announcing what “we know”, and what “we will never know”. While there are indeed endnotes (a total of 338 for 421 pages), the book is filled with long paragraphs and even full pages replete with detailed information for which there is no hint of the source. Some of the notes include a brief survey of relevant secondary literature, as is conventional in most academic historical writing, but others merely cite a single book title without a page reference. And there are far too many passages clearly taken from the published work of other historians without proper acknowledgment.

The writing style ranges from high seriousness to faux Woody Allen. Some readers will undoubtedly find amusing the frequent reduction of serious matters to a semi-humorous quip; I find this writing technique jarring and inappropriate. A few examples. The “Scroll of the Sons of Light and the Sons of Darkness” produced by the Qumran community is a work of utmost earnestness about ultimate issues. It contains detailed instructions on the manner of deploying battle squadrons when their full force is mustered, and specific qualifications and tactics for the men and horses of the cavalry, according to leading scholars conforming to Roman patterns of military organization, procedure and strategy. But because it also specifies religious inscriptions on the javelins (e.g. “Shining Javelin of the Power of God”), Schama’s sardonic exegesis is: “We are going to write the enemy into capitulation! Surrender to our verbosity or else!” And because of a brief phrase in the Scroll ordaining that the spears be engraved with a golden depiction of ears of corn, he concludes, “If the Ultimate Battle could only be decided by literary excess and sumptuous schmeckerei [sic] it would be a cakewalk for the Sons of Light”. Is this an illustration of the book’s sub-title: “Finding the Words”? Do such comments enhance our understanding of the apocalyptic eschatological world-view of Qumran?

Schama presents several paragraphs of a well-known letter by Moses Maimonides to Samuel ibn Tibbon, discouraging the recipient from travelling from southern France to Egypt on the expectation that Maimonides would have ample time to discuss with him problems relating to Samuel’s translation of the Guide for the Perplexed from Arabic into Hebrew. Maimonides describes extremely taxing his daily schedule fulfilling medical responsibilities in Saladin’s court and then to the Muslim and Jewish population of Fustat, explaining that he barely has time to eat, and no time to study except for a few hours on Shabbat. Most readers will recognize this as a poignant expression of a distinguished physician, currently in poor health himself, devoted to treating others. Schama’s introduction to the text: by writing this letter, Maimonides proved himself to be “a consummate moaner, a king of the kvetch”.

The Jewish Mother trope is introduced fairly early: “The moment you know that Josephus is the first . . . truly Jewish historian is when, with a twinge of guilt, he introduces his mother into the action.” Were none of the authors of Judges, First and Second Samuel, First and Second Kings, the no-longer extant “Chronicles of the Kings of Israel”,. and “Chronicles of the Kings of Judah”, First and Second Maccabees, who did not mention their mothers, deserving to be called “truly Jewish historians”?. The dated stereotype then runs amok in Schama’s presentation of a letter from the Cairo Geniza.

And, it need hardly be said that the Geniza has its share of grieving Jewish mothers complaining their sons don’t write. One peerless virtuoso of the maternal guilt trip, neglected by her bad boy right through the summer when she expected at least one letter, (was that too much to ask, already?) complained ‘you seem to be unaware that when I get a letter from you it is a substitute for seeing your face.’ Don’t worry, be cheerful, do your thing, whatever, I’m alright, this is just KILLING me. ‘You don’t realize my very life depends on getting news about you . . . Do not kill me before my time’. So alright if you won’t send a letter at least, if it’s not too much bother, Mr Always Busy Big Shot, at least send your dirty laundry, a stained shirt or two, so a poor abandoned mother could summon up her boy’s body and have her ‘spirits restored’. What an artist.’.

The note identifies the source in an article by Joel L. Kraemer, where the letter is presented without interspersing mocking comments. It is undeniably a guilt-inducing letter. But Kraemer provides the context in Muslim society, where the position of the mother without a husband is especially precarious. Schama reduces this to a Borscht Circuit Jewish joke.

The chapters appear to reveal a lack of internal consistency. To start with a technical issue: the general convention of publishing for biblical names is to use the standard forms of classical and most modern biblical translations. Thus we have through much of the book Samuel, Moses, Joseph, Abraham, Judah, Isaac.. Then, without explanation, in the discussion of Spanish Hebrew poets, the names appear in their Hebrew forms: Shmuel, Moshe, Yosef, Ibrahim, Yehudah, Yitzhak. In subsequent chapters, we find the equivalent names Yehudah and Judah on the same page (, and then return to the norm of Solomon, Isaac, Samuel, Abraham, Judah. The Index includes: Maimonides, Moses but Nahmanides, Moshe.

More important is the thematic inconsistency. The first part of the book emphasizes the lives of “ordinary Jews” as reconstructed by scholars from sources based on papyri from Elephantine and Alexandria, funeral inscriptions, archaeological excavations at Dura-Europos and synagogues of the Galilee, Arabic inscriptions about Jewish tribes in the Arabian peninsula, and of course the vast collection of the Cairo Geniza. Yet elsewhere in the book, the emphasis on the “ordinary Jew” seems largely to have disappeared in favour of far more extensive discussions of Herod and Josephus, Hasdai ibn Shaprut, Samuel ibn Nagrela, Moses Maimonides, Moses Nahmanides, while other figures no less significant are all but ignored. “Reb Solomon ben Isaac, known as Rashi”, for example, is given one full sentence and two additional passing mentions.

A second confusing inconsistency lies in his attitude toward historical accuracy. The title chosen is not “The History…” but The Story of the Jews. Yet the major repository of this story during the first third of his chronological range—the Hebrew Scriptures—is barely consulted. A reader who searches in this book for an account of the stories of Samson, Samuel, Saul, Elijah, Jonah may well feel surprised that there is no engagement at all with this material, influential as the stories have been on later Jewish consciousness. The focus of the early chapters is not on narrative but on critical biblical scholarship and on archaeology as tests for the historicity of the accounts in biblical texts written much later than the events they report. Indeed, the third chapter seems to be a major diversion from “the story of the Jews”: of its 32 pages, 17 are devoted to an account of 19th-century English archaeologists of the ancient Near East, leading to what Schama calls “the birthing moment of biblical archaeology in the late 19th century”, with the rest devoted to disputes among Israeli archeologists about the historicity of biblical narratives.

Summarizing one section, Schama writes:

"So this is where we are in the true story of the Jews. No evidence outside the Hebrew Bible exists to make the exodus and the law giving dependably historical, in any modern sense. But that does not necessarily mean that at least some elements of the story—servile labour, migration, perhaps even incoming conquest, might not, under any circumstances, have happened. For some chapters of the Bible story, as we have already seen, if only in the depths of H"

A third inconsistency: whether to present co-existence or conflict with the surrounding culture, the host government and population, as the norm. In places—Schama’s discussion of the Elephantine community and Hellenistic Alexandria, the world of the Dura-Europas synagogue and the mosaic synagogue floors in the Galilee, the Islamic-Arabic culture—he presents what appears to be a workable model of Jewish co-existence with Gentile neighbors based on a sustainable integration of Jewish loyalties and traditions with what they considered to be the best values of the surrounding civilization. Schama appears to reject what Salo W. Baron called the “lachrymose conception” of Jewish history, warning that “we must not make episodes of brutality the norm, for they were not”, that “life for the Jews was not all convulsion and expulsion”.

But elsewhere, and increasingly more so in the treatment of Christian Europe, the presentation suggests that the model of conflict, persecution, Jewish suffering is indeed the norm throughout the ages, pointing toward the denouement of the Nazi “Final Solution”. Unusually oppressive anti-Jewish legislation, which he calls “the great segregation”, was passed at Valladolid, Castile in 1412 (though, as Schama admits: “most of its most draconian restrictions proved impossible to enforce”, and it actually applied to Moors as well as to Jews). After listing all the provisions, he writes, “History frowns on anachronism, but what, the crematoria and the shooting squads aside, in the Nazi repertoire is missing from this list?” It should be needless to say that the systematic mass murder of Jews by Einsatzgruppen shooting squads and death camp gas chambers was the essence of the Holocaust. What relevant point can be made by putting these elements “aside” and suggesting a continuity that is extremely misleading.?

This and many other such passages suggest that the model of continuous persecution, with medieval precedents for the Nazi horrors, trumps the models of co-existence emphasized earlier in the book. [The choice of the first section of chapter 7 entitled “Sacrificial Lambs”— entirely devoted to the theme of persecution by Christians from 1096 throughout the 12th century—to be published as an “Excerpt” on the British newspaper Telegraph website on 2 September, before the book was officially released, signals which part of the book’s message the author considered most important.] [The Timeline provided at the end of the book, lists twenty dates from the period 1000–1500 CE. Two of these dates may be considered neutral: the fall of Cordoba and Saladin’s conquest of Jerusalem; two others led directly to heightened intolerance and oppression: the Almoravid and Almohade invasions of Spain, and proclamation of the First Crusade, The other sixteen are all incidents of persecution: massacres, anti-Jewish riots, expulsions. Not a single positive Jewish achievement is listed in this five hundred year period.

This emphasis on persecution as normative removes the policies of medieval popes and kings from their historical context. It presents anti-Jewish statements and decisions without comparison to policies regarding other deviant groups: Muslim minorities in Christian Spain, Christians deemed by the Church to be heretics, prostitutes, gays. And it ignores to a large extent the examples of Jews and Christians co-existing and interacting through a common vernacular in communities that were not at all violently hostile or shut off from each other. [To take just one example, the work of Joseph Shatzmiller based on archival records of court cases in fourteenth-century southern France revealed that in many cases, Christians requiring loans of capital preferred to take them from Jewish money-lenders rather than from Christians in the same business.]

I will pass over the minor factual errors in the narrative to focus on the presentation of three critical events in the middle of the thirteenth century: the internal Jewish conflict over the philosophical writings of Maimonides, the campaign of the Church against the Babylonian Talmud, and the disputation of Barcelona.

According to Schama (in an extraordinarily imaginative paragraph without a single source provided), the central complaint in the anti-Maimonidean campaign of 1232 to place a ban on Maimonides’ Guide and the first book of Maimonides’ Code (Mishneh Torah), containing philosophical material, was that Maimonides presumed “to uncouple the Mishnah from its cladding in the great richly woven garment of the Talmudic commentaries and supplements, and by setting it forth in naked simplicity, as if it were the entirety of the oral law”, he thereby “made the Talmud appear redundant in the eyes of the Gentile nations.” Thus he had “exposed the Talmud to the malicious questioning of outsiders. He had imagined himself to be giving tonic to the oral law but who, if you don’t mind, had asked him to the bedside of the Talmud anyway?”. Furthermore, by applying Greek reasoning to the holy texts, Maimonides had, as it were “dragged the Talmud into a pagan Temple”. In Schama’s imaginative rendering of a complaint by Maimonides’ opponents, “It had got so bad that any yeshiva boy with a saucy tongue in his head could quote half-digested gobbets of Rabbi Aristotle as if he were the equal of Rabbi Gamliel and Rashi, may they rest in peace!”.

The relevant Hebrew texts, written in a rather difficult rhymed prose by those in the anti-philosophical camp and their opponents, were printed already in the 19th century, and there is a significant academic literature discussing these texts. Spinoza summarized the position of one of the opponents (Judah Alfahar) in the fifteenth chapter of his Theological-Political Treatise. But Schama’s treatmentshows no evidence of having consulted any of this material. The reader is given no clue of the actual issues involved, such as:

•whether studying non-Jewish texts or even philosophical texts written by Jews has a proper place in the Jewish educational curriculum;

•whether allegorical interpretation of Bible and Talmudic aggadah is legitimate,

•whether the commandments were given for reasons that can be discerned rationally;

•whether the ultimate reward of eternal existence in the presence of the divine was to be earned through the strict performance of the commandments or through cultivation of the intellect.

Instead we are told that the attack on Maimonides was for isolating the Mishnah from the rest of the Talmud, an accusation that played no role in the literature of the conflict. The actual controversy was raged over serious matters at the core of Jewish religious identity; to reduce them to “half-digested gobbets of Rabbi Aristotle” does not begin to do justice to gravity of the Kulturkampf.

The other two spectacular events, both of which have abundant source material available in English translations, relate to direct interaction with Christians. First was the trial of the Talmud in Paris in 1240. The official doctrine of the Church was that Jews were to be allowed to live under protection in a Christian realm and observe all the practices of their faith, but with ground-rules that would demonstrate their inferior status. One of these was that Jews must not malign the sancta of the Christianity. But the Talmudic literature contains a handful of statements that clearly fall into this potentially perilous category. When converts to Christianity familiar with the rabbinic literature reported this to Christian authorities, Pope Gregory IX reacted strongly. His mandate was to gather and investigate the rabbinic texts to see precisely what they said.

Schama presents the statements reported by Rabbi Yehiel of Paris in defence of the Talmud in a trivializing, dismissive manner, “rhetorical shadow-boxing”, as if Yehiel faced no serious problem: “

The “Jesus” who was said [in the Talmud] to be standing in boiling excrement in the underworld was not Jesus of Nazareth, or he would have been so identified, for there were many other Jesuses at large in those preachy days (as indeed there were). When Donin [the apostate who served as prosecuting attorney against the Talmud] snorted at the disingenousness of the reply, Yehiel cheekily asked whether or not there were, after all, many Louis in France other than the king. [Pushing the mistaken identity line further he asked in wide eyed innocence whether it was remotely conceivable that ‘Miriam the hairdresser’, who was the object of further insults including the suggestion that she was a harlot, could be the mother of Jesus for no Jew had ever described Mary as established in the beauty business.]” ..

The burning of the Talmudic texts in Paris was the dramatically tragic focus of this section, and Shama dramatizes its pathos. But no mention is made of the subsequent accommodation in the papacy of Gregory’s successors, by which Jews were permitted to continue copying and studying the Talmud, provided that their scribes would eliminate the blatantly offensive statements.

As for the Disputation of Barcelona in which the Jews were represented by Moses Nahmanides (RaMBaN), Schama links it directly with Paris: “Thus it was that in 1240 in Paris and 1263 in Barcelona, the Talmud was put in the dock in a show trial of Judaism, with the objects of extracting admissions of its guilt”. While he continues to note that the Barcelona event did not challenge the very existence of the Talmud, he fails to convey the fundamental difference between the two events: in Barcelona, the Christian disputer, Pablo Christiani, did not ridicule and condemn the rabbinic literature; rather he used it in an attempt to undermine Jewish belief.

Thus the first question accepted by both sides for the formal disputation was: “Whether according to the Talmud, the Messiah had already come”. Arguing the affirmative, Pablo cited a rabbinic statement that on the day the Temple was destroyed, the Messiah was born. Schama’s presentation of the Jewish response—“Look,” said Nahmanides, “I don’t believe much of this stuff myself, and I don’t need to; it’s just catnip for debate”—trivializes what was undoubtedly an anguishing decision. To proclaim publicly that the rabbis of the Talmudic period were absolutely authoritative when they decided about a legal matter, but that these same rabbis could be mistaken on crucial theological matters, and that Jews were required to accept rabbinic law but were free to ignore assertions of rabbinic theology, was to tread on perilous ground.

Nahmanides therefore resorted to a technical distinction: that the rabbinic statement indeed asserted that the Messiah was born, but not that he had come, which meant that he had not begun his active career. But that implied that the Messiah was waiting somewhere on earth, almost 1200 years old. Caught in this intellectual thicket, the following day Nahmanides made two crucial concessions: that the aggadah was not absolutely binding but rather analogous to the sermon delivered by a bishop, and that Judaism did not depend on the doctrine of the Messiah and a messianic age (as Schama puts it, flippantly paraphrasing Nahmanides, “The Jewish Messiah—who by the way was not fundamental to our religion”. . . . Many scholars believe that these concessions did not truly reflect Nahmanides’ own beliefs, but that he was driven to them by the exigencies of the public debate. Little of this poignant drama is communicated in the narrative.

The Story of the Jews: 1000 BCE—1492CE will undoubtedly serve as a popular coffee table book. As a source of authoritative historical information about Jews during this long period, readers will need to turn to such collaborative one-volume works as A History of the Jewish People (1976) or The Jews: A History (2008), in which a small group of scholars—six in the first, four in the second—write surveys of their own period of specialization (note the more modest indefinite article in the title of both). Or to the specialized works so helpfully listed and described in Schama’s Bibliography.

Marc Saperstein, Professor Emeritus of Jewish History at George Washington University, is currently Professor of Jewish Studies at King’s College London, and Professor of Jewish History and Homiletics at Leo Baeck College.

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“Torah Study on Christmas Eve” — free Torah in Motion lecture by Dr. Marc B. Shapiro

December 19, 2013, 5:34 am

≫ Next: The Vilna Gaon, part 2 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)

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In the spirit of inyana de-yoma, Torah in Motion is offering, free of charge, Dr. Marc B. Shapiro’s lecture on “Torah Study on Christmas Eve,” delivered on Christmas Eve, 2009. You can get it here.[1]

We invite all those who download the class to visit Torah in Motion’s website www.torahinmotion.org where over a thousand other lectures and classes are available for download (including lectures by Dan Rabinowitz, Eliezer Brodt, and Marc Shapiro’s series of over 130 classes on great rabbinic figures). We also invite you to check out Dr. Shapiro’s upcoming tours to Spain, Italy and Central Europe. Information is available here.

[1] Or copy and paste into your browser: http://torahinmotion.org/cart/add/p2767_a2o1?destination=cart.

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The Vilna Gaon, part 2 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)

January 8, 2014, 10:07 am

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The Vilna Gaon, part 2 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)

by Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.

Another reference by the Gaon to the Guide – in this case it is only attributed to him – is found in his comment to Bava Kamma 92b (commenting on (בירא דשתית מיניה לא תשדי בי קלא, which has been published in a number of different sources, most conveniently in the commentary Anaf Yosef to Ein Yaakov, Bava Kamma 92b. The Gaon quoted the Guide as saying that if you find one good thing in a book you shouldn’t deride it for any other nonsense in it.[1]

This must refer to Maimonides’ comment in the Introduction to the Guide where he writes: “All into whose hands it [the Guide] fall should consider it well, and if it slakes his thirst, though it be only one point from among the many that are obscure, he should thank God and be content with what he has understood.”

When it comes to the Guide and the Vilna Gaon, there is also a reference in the Gaon’s commentary to Esther 1:18. Here are the pages from the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition.

As R. Meir Mazuz pointed out,[2] the Gaon is referring to Guide 1:54. However, as you can see, the editor didn’t know this and thus didn’t provide the source.[3]

Here is another example where a learned editor did not know a source in the Guide. In R. Abraham Sofer’s edition of Meiri, Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, p. 170, the Meiri quotes Maimonides, and as you can see in note 4, Sofer comments, “I don’t know where.” Maimonides words are not in any of his halakhic writings, which is why Sofer didn’t know about them, but they do appear in Guide 3:8.

Returning to the Gaon and Maimonides, when it comes to sex the Gaon’s view parallels that of Maimonides in the Guide, although I don’t know if we can speak of influence. Maimonides famously spoke of the sense of touch as being a “disgrace to us.”[4] The Gaon actually had the same opinion in that he regarded sex as something to be loathed and a necessary evil. Only with regard to the spiritual elites did he see something intrinsically positive in it.[5]

שדברי העולם הזה בעצם מאוסים, כמו האכילה, שנוטל מאכל ועושה פרש ורעי וכן המשגל, אבל התכלית, מה שבא מזה הוא טוב, כמו תכלית האכילה שיהא חזק ללמוד תורה, ותכלית המשגל להיות בנים צדיקים וטובים, וזהו תכלית ופעולה. וז"ש בהצדיקים לא מיבעי שהתכלית מזה אצלם טוב, אלא אפילו הפעולה עצמה הוא לחיים, שהן מכוונין בזה ואכילתן כקרבן ממש. וכן בכל דבר.

Yet even when dealing with the righteous, one can only imagine how the Gaon would have reacted if he had seen the following text, from R. Solomon of Karlin, Shema Shelomo (Jerusalem, 1956), p. 96 (sippurim no. 59), in which we see how an unnamed hasidic figure said that he needed sex every day, a statement that shocked his bride to be.[6]

Here is another example where the Gaon’s has the same view as Maimonides in the Guide. Tamid 1:1 states: “The priests kept watch [throughout the night] at three places in the Temple.” Why? In the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Beit-ha-Behirah 8:1, Maimonides says that this is just a matter of showing respect to the Temple, since there is no fear that anything will be stolen. In his commentary to Tamid 1:1 (found in the Vilna ed.), the Gaon explains that the guards were there to prevent unauthorized entry. In Guide 3:45 Maimonides also offers this explanation (in addition to mentioning that the watch was for glory and honor).

Regarding Meiri’s Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, mentioned above, in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox I mentioned the notes at the end of this volume by Louis Ginzberg, notes that have not yet been removed from newer printings. I neglected to mention this dedication to Ginzberg at the beginning of the volume.

As for Ginzberg’s notes at the end of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, A reader sent me the following, which shows how Yeshivat Ner Israel’s beit midrash copy of the book is “decorated”.

Regarding Sofer’s edition of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, there is one other important point I must mention. The volume first appeared in 1950 and was subsequently reprinted by Sofer, with no changes to the text of the Meiri or the pagination. This reprint is what appears in the multivolume Beit ha-Behirah that everyone purchases. However, this is unfortunate, because the 1950 edition is far superior. Here is the title page of the first edition, which was published by Yeshiva University.

This edition contains a lengthy and valuable introduction by R. Samuel Mirsky, which deals with various aspects of the Meiri. Furthermore, Mirsky included thirty pages of important notes, many of them textual, that are vital for anyone who studies the Hibbur ha-Teshuvah. (Mirsky also calls attention to the passage in Guide 3:8, which as I noted above, Sofer did not know about.[7]) Quite apart from the 1950 edition, in Talpiot 4 (5710), pp. 417ff., Mirsky published a number of chapters from Hibbur ha-Teshuvah and his notes often call attention to things not mentioned by Sofer. It would therefore be helpful if a new edition of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah was published and included the notes of both Sofer and Mirsky. This new edition should also include the many pages of notes by Yehudah Preis-Horeb and R. Dov Berish Zuckerman that appeared in Talpiot 5 (5712), pp. 880ff., which are also quite valuable.

I can’t explain why Sofer did not include at least Mirsky’s notes when he republished the book. Fortunately, the first edition is available on hebrewbooks.org.

Finally, here is an example where the Gaon’s position is not merely similar to that of Maimonides in the Guide, but is clearly influenced by the latter.[8] In Yahel Or the Gaon states:[9]

כי כל השמות אינן רק משותפין ומושאלין מפעולותיו . . . רק שם הוי"ה . . . והוא שם העצם שאינו מושאל מפעולה רק (מורה) על הויותו תמיד והיותו מעצמו

Here is what Maimonides writes in Guide 1:61 (Ibn Tibbon translation). It is obvious that the Gaon was influenced in this matter by Maimonides’ words.

כל שמותיו יתעלה הנמצאים בספרים כולם נגזרים מן הפעולות, וזה מה שאין העלם בו, אלא שם אחד, והוא יו"ד ה"א וא"ו ה"א, שהוא שם המיוחד לו יתעלה, ולזה נקרא שם המפורש, ענינו, שהוא יורה על עצמו יתעלה הוראה מבוארת אין השתתפות בה . . . להיותו מורה על עצמו יתעלה, מאשר לא ישתתף אחד מן הברואים בהוראה ההיא

P. 109. Stern mentions the report that after the Gaon’s death on Sukkot, when the hasidim continued to celebrate, three hasidim were killed by mitnagdim. It is hard to know whether there is any truth to this story, or to the report of hasidim killing a mitnaged.[10] Unfortunately, in our day we have seen haredi Judaism in Israel descend to a level unimaginable even ten years ago.[11] Harsh rhetoric, which on occasion has led to real violence, is now routine, and the rabbis who use the harsh, and often hateful, speech are never called to account for their actions.[12] It is only a matter of time before we see a religiously motivated murder, and we have already had close calls, including a stabbing at Ponovezh.

Seeing what has occurred in recent months, we can understand why some people might conclude that R. Akiva was right on target when he told his son, “Do not dwell in a town whose leaders are talmidei hakhamim” (Pesahim 112a). In a previous post I already quoted Yeshayahu Leibowitz’s comment that we know the Sages had a sense of humor since they stated תלמידי חכמים מרבים שלום בעולם. Along these lines, many decades ago an unnamed rabbi explained why the blessing reads

הפורש סוכת שלום עלינו ועל כל עמו ישראל ועל ירושלים

The problem with this formulation is that there is no need for Jerusalem to be singled out after mentioning the entire people of Israel. The explanation given is that since Jerusalem has more disputes than anywhere else (and today we could add Bnei Brak) it therefore needs a special mention when asking God to spread over us his shelter of peace.[13]

R. Kook actually claims that the Jewish people are more apt to be involved in internal disputes than any other people. In Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho (Jerusalem, 2006), p. 43, he writes:

ישראל הם עלולים יותר לפירוד ומחלוקת מכל אומה, מפני שריבוי הצביונים שמתחלקים בעמים רבים, כלולים בישראל ביחוד.

I am writing these words not long after a man attacked R. Aharon Leib Steinman, which could easily have caused R. Steinman’s death. So as not to put all the blame on one side, does anyone have any doubt that if Degel ha-Torah was running the show that R. Shmuel Auerbach would right now be under house arrest or sitting in jail? I say this only because I assume that the rhetoric directed against him is hyperbole, because if is not hyperbole, then we should assume that if Degel ha-Torah was in charge he would have been executed by now. Can the rabbis who use this sort of rhetoric really claim that they are innocent when an individual decides to take their words literally and kill someone, even a great Torah scholar? Didn’t these rabbis learn the lesson of the Rabin assassination, that if you call someone a rodef (and thus hayav mitah), someone might very well take you up on this? As for throwing people out of kollels because they didn’t vote for Degel ha-Torah, any kollel that does so should be ineligible for Israeli government money.

Most disappointing in this matter is R. Chaim Kanievsky who seems to think that Torah Judaism has the equivalent of a papacy, and he can thus declare that all are obligated to follow R. Steinman, meaning that there is only one Torah path.[14] This approach first surfaced when R. Elyashiv was ill and R. Kanievsky declared that the torch of leadership had passed to R. Steinman whose word was now law. See here. Have we ever had such a thing in the Lithuanian Torah world where a sage’s unquestioned leadership is formally proclaimed in this manner, as if he were a hasidic rebbe taking over for his deceased father? In the non-hasidic world the people have always chosen their spiritual leaders, as the Sages tell us: עשה לך רב. Never have they been imposed on us from above.

In the booklet Kuntres Tikun Haderah, which is an attack on R. Yehoshua Ehrenberg, the Rosh Yeshiva of the Haderah yeshiva, one of R. Ehrenberg's great sins is that he declared that "the" gadol ha-dor is not something that can be proclaimed in papal fashion. Here are two of his statements that strike me as entirely reasonable, but which for the followers of R. Kanievsky are enough to turn him into an enemy of Torah Judaism.

ר'חיים החליט שהרב שטיינמן הוא הגדול. גדול זה לא דבר שאפשר להחליט עליו

לדעתי המושג ,הנהגה, הוא מי שהציבור בפועל שומע בקולו. כמה אחוזים צריך? ר'חיים חושב שמספיק מה שיש לרב שטיינמן. אולי לא

And here is another statement from R. Ehrenberg, which for his opponents is the height of chutzpah simply because he doesn't believe that there is currently one authority whose decisions bind everyone.

עוד התבטא בחוצפה עזה: "מאז שהרב אלישיב נפטר אין מנהיג אחד בעם ישראל. אין כזה מושג הנהגה. היום זה התבטל אין אחד שחייבים לשמוע לו

No one is saying that R. Kanievsky shouldn’t express his opinion that his approach is the proper one. But that is very different than what he and his followers have been doing. Declaring that supporters of R. Auerbach are behemot, invalid as witnesses, and should not be given aliyot is just the beginning. אחרי אלף גלגולי מחילות, some believe that R. Kanievsky’s language has unintentionally even verged on incitement to murder. He has followers who will do anything he says, and he has declared that R. Auerbach is a zaken mamre and deserving of sekilah (the death penalty of stoning) for not accepting the leadership of R. Steinman.[15] (Say what you will about R. Auerbach’s politics, he is certainly enough of a Torah scholar to have his own opinion on matters.) R. Kanievsky has also, playing on the word עץ which is how the Bnai Torah party is often referred to, said that its followers should be “hung on a tree”. I assume that this comment was said in a non-serious manner, but as a leader he needs to be aware that there are people who might not see it this way, and take it into their hands to fulfill his words. Was it this sort of language that led followers of Beit Shammai to kill followers of Beit Hillel, a fact attested to by the Jerusalem Talmud?[16] When vitriolic language was used in New Square, we saw how someone decided to take matters into his own hands, and his solution was to burn down a house which would have killed all the inhabitants. Unfortunately, it would no longer be a surprise if one of R. Kanievsky’s followers decided to use violence as part of this milhemet mitzvah.

Considering the shocking things R. Kanievsky has recently said, is it possible that he doesn’t really know the situation, and the people who are meeting with him and getting him to speak about certain matters are really manipulating him? R. Kanievsky has been meeting with people and providing advice for decades and until the last couple of months he never spoke like this. Is there any other explanation for his sudden change of tone? Here is the recording of R. Kanievsky referring to R. Auerbach as deserving sekilah and also referring to him as a zaken mamre and his followers as behemot. I ask the readers, does it sound like R. Kanievsky really understands what is going on? Do we have any idea what sort of information against R. Auerbach various askanim have provided him with?[17]

Let me take you back to an earlier era when we heard the type of rhetoric you can now hear. This is from the front page of the newspaper Davar, Nov. 29, 1972, and came after R. Shlomo Goren was subjected to death threats.

Should we be surprised if what R. Goren was subjected to is soon repeated with R. Auerbach? And even if it doesn’t reach this extreme, we have already seen how much damage can be caused by what the Lithuanian haredim call "השקפה", to which one can reply:[18]

אין "השקפה"אלא לרעה (ראה רש"י בראשית יח, טז)

Now is as good a time as ever to note that the falsehoods of Yated Ne’eman begin right with the title of this newspaper. The title is derived from Isaiah 22:23 which reads

ותקעתיו יתד במקום נאמן

This means, “And I will fasten him as a peg in a sure place.”

Yet if you look two verses later (Is 22:25) you find the following words

תמוש היתד התקועה במקום נאמן

We see from this is that the word יתד is feminine.[19] Furthermore, throughout rabbinic literature יתד is feminine and it is also feminine in modern Hebrew, meaning that the title of the newspaper should be Yated Ne’emanah.[20] I say this even though there is one biblical verse, Ez. 15:3, where the word is masculine, since I don’t think the newspaper was intending to adopt the usage of one verse in contradiction to the general “Masorah” (as we know how important Masorah is to them).

יתד is a feminine word along the same model – kametz followed by tzeireh – as the following words that are also feminine[21]: חצר, גדר, ירך, כתף

While I think that the newspaper’s title is probably just a simple error, I know some of you conspiracy theorists are thinking about how the people who run Yated don’t like to give the females among us their due, and won’t even publish their pictures, so maybe they see it as disgraceful to have something feminine in the title . . .[22]

Pp. 160-161: Stern records a few of the famous, and from a contemporary perspective, shocking stories about how the Gaon related to his children. “His children divulge that Elijah never once wrote a letter to any of them. Nor when he saw them, once every year or two, did he ever ask about their work or their well-being.” Stern refers to these stories as “painful memories.” I don’t think this is accurate. If they were painful memories, his children would not have recorded them. It might be painful for us to read the stories, but we have to be careful not to project our sense of how parents and grandparents should behave onto a different culture.[23[

Aryeh Morgenstern refers to R. Hayyim of Volozhin’s comment in the introduction to Sifra di-Tzeniuta that the Gaon never asked about how his children were doing and never wrote them letters or read letters from them. According to Morgenstern, this should be seen as a veiled criticism of the Gaon by R. Hayyim, since if he wanted to show people how great the Gaon’s ascetic attachment to Torah was, he didn’t need to bring an example illustrating how the Gaon related to his family.[24] I completely disagree. To suggest that R. Hayyim intended to criticize the Gaon regarding this matter, especially in the introduction to one of the Gaon’s books, is in my mind impossible. While moderns such as Morgenstern might find the description of the Gaon problematic, it was not viewed as such by R. Hayyim, nor by those of our contemporaries who continue to cite this description (and similar ones about other great Torah scholars.)[25]

In an earlier post, available here I noted that David Singer and Moshe Sokol advance the radical view that the Rav’s descriptions of his family members is actually designed to show his opposition to their hyper-intellectualism and pan-halakhism. They write

[T]here is something strange about Soloveitchik’s tales of the Litvaks. The behavior he describes is so radical, so extreme, as to make his presumed heroes seem grotesque. Who, for example, wishing to portray Litvak intellectualism in a positive light, would boast that his father and grandfather set aside all human sentiment and refused ever to enter a cemetery, because a stark encounter with death would have distracted them from the contemplation of the law. Or again, who would tell with pride the following macabre story about his maternal grandfather [referring to the story of R. Elya and his dying daughter]. . . . Stories like this, while ostensibly presented in order to glorify the Litvak, cannot help but evoke strong disapproval in the reader. And this disapproval, it seems safe to assume, is shared in part by Soloveitchik himself, specifically by that part of him which rebels against the Litvak tradition’s spurning of the emotions. The vein of anger that runs through the anecdotal material in “Halakhic Man” is not to be missed.[26]

Again, I find it impossible to accept that the Rav was actually criticizing his father and grandfathers. I say this not because of any pieties, but simply because the Rav’s connection to these people was not merely one of admiration but idolization. It is obvious that Singer and Sokol have a different vantage point than the Rav and traditional Lithuanian Jewish society in general. But why do they assume that what they see as “grotesque” must be shared by the Rav? All one needs to do is peruse haredi hagiographies to find lots of descriptions of what, when it comes to intellect triumphing over emotion, one can call rabbinic counterparts to Mr. Spock.

Returning to Stern, he also quotes Aliyot Eliyahu’s comment that “to love the path of God and His Torah . . . he [Elijah] had to fight against his human instincts, pause, and let go of his own love for his own children.” Stern notes Solomon Schechter’s comment that Aliyot Eliyahu was “incapable of marking the line between monster and hero,” which again reflects a modern sentiment.

Incidentally, I am sure Schechter’s comment was influenced by what appears in Aliyot Eliyahu, note 51, which is not mentioned by Stern (perhaps because it refers to a segulah?):

סיפר לי גיסי המופלג מ'זלמן ז"ל נכד הגאון ז"ל, שאמו בת בגר"א היו בני'מתים כשהם קטנים ר"ל, וכשהיתה מעוברת ממנו [גיסי הנ"ל]., נסעה מביתה [מק'דיסנא], אל אביה הגר"א שיבקש רחמים שיהיה הולד של קיימא. ובבואה לפניו אמר לה במילים קצרים סגולה לקיום בנים . . . ויותר מזה לא רצה לבטל לדבר עמה.

R. Ephraim Kirschenbaum takes note of this passage and some similar ones and raises the question – which itself I find surprising in a haredi publication – is this proper Torah behavior?[27]

הנה מתיאורים הללו, מגדולים אנשי שם, מצטייר לנו הגר"א כאלו איש אשר מרוב השתקעותו בתורה דוכא כליל כל רגש כלפי ילדיו. האם האדם השלם אמור כך להיות?

The answer his gives, not surprisingly, is that there is a different standard for saintly figures than for the masses.

האמת היא שהגדולים הנ"ל בהלכות ביטול תורה וחומרתו קעסקי, ואין מדבריהם סתירה לפן נוסף.

Stern (p. 161) aptly quotes the Gaon’s suggestion[28]

that one should follow the Babylonian Talmud’s injunction (tractate Eruvin 22a) to “blacken” oneself toward one’s children as a “raven” does to her fledglings. The “raven” the Gaon explains, is “an allegory for the scholar who becomes cruel to his children [so that] he can spend all of his time studying the Torah.”

I would just add to this the quote from the Gaon in R. Samuel Maltzan’s Even Shlomo, ch. 3:4 (emphasis added):

שני מיני גבורה נמצא בעובדי ה', ונקראים גבורים ואנשי חיל. גבור הוא הכובש את יצרו בעת שבאה העברה לידו, ואנשי חיל הם אבירי הלב בשלמות הבטחון להגות בתורה יום ולילה ושלא להשגיח על בניו ובני ביתו הצועקים ללחם, וכמו שאמרו (עירובין כב ע"א) שחורות כעורב שמשים עצמו אכזרי על בניו כעורב. ומה עושה לו הקב"ה? מזמין לו אדם להחזיקו כיששכר וזבולון.

R. Yitzhak Zilberstein quotes the story found in the introduction to the Gaon’s commentary to Shulhan Arukh according to which the Gaon was so involved in his learning that he forgot about his ill son. Rather than conclude that this is something only for spiritual elites, he seems to regard this as something everyone should strive for. He writes:[29]

וזהו דרגת חשקת התורה, שהוא למעלה מדרגת אהבת התורה, שהחושק בתורה שוכח כל אהבותיו, אפילו ממה שטבע הקב"ה בבריאה, כדוגמת אהבת אב לבן, ויתכן שזה הכונה בגמרא בעירובין (דף כב ע"א) שהתורה מתקיימת במי שמשים עצמו אכזרי על בניו ועל בני ביתו כעורב. דהיינו שחושק בתורה, עד שמשכח כל אהבה אחרת

The removal of what moderns regard as a basic emotional connection to one’s children[30] is also seen the anonymous hagiography of R. Elyashiv, Ha-Shakdan.[31]

I, for one, was quite surprised that this was included in the hagiography, as it runs so much against how people today think about such matters. I also have to say that I find some of what appears in the book very difficult to believe. R. Elyashiv probably knew the entire Talmud by heart, so how are we supposed to believe that he didn’t even know the names of his children?[32]

When Ha-Shakdan appeared I went out on a limb stating that I was sure that this sort of material would never appear in English because of the shocked reaction it would create even among haredi readers in the U.S. It is always dangerous to make predictions about the future, which is why we historians usually stick to the past, but in this case it turns out that I was correct.

In February 2013 Artscroll published an English translation (“adapted and expanded”) of Ha-Shakdan.[33] Without discussing the book or the translation in any detail, let me just call your attention to some of the material that, not surprisingly, was deleted. Here is p. 69 of Ha-Shakdan and p. 123 of the translation.

Notice how in the translation most of the paragraph beginning with the words מעבר לזה have been deleted. I think the reason is obvious, as mentioned already. But is Israeli haredi society really so different when it comes to this sort of thing than American haredi society? That is, won’t Israeli readers be saddened to see sentences such as לא היו לו דיבורים עם הבנות and כשהם באים אצלו בביקורים או בתורנות, אין להם שיחה משותפת בכלל

Here is Ha-Shakdan, pp 62-63, and the translation pp. 105-106.

Notice how the first two paragraphs on p. 62 are not translated and also the first full paragraph on p. 63. Also, in the translation on p. 106, the second paragraph (“Rav Elyashiv’s lack of involvement . . .”) does not appear in the original. The translator obviously thought that this clarification was important for the English-speaking audience.

Here are two other passages from Ha-Shakdan, pp. 96 n. 69 and 251-252, that also don’t appear in the English translation.

Regarding the story on p. 98 n. 69, this should be contrasted with how it is told that R. Avraham Shapiro took up smoking as a way of dealing with the emotional strain of some of the cases he was confronted with as a dayan.

In general, when it comes to the stories reported in Ha-Shakdan, I have to say that I don’t accept the basic message the author is trying to get across. His point is that the stories he tells of R. Elyashiv regarding his indifference to people and events are a result of his complete absorption in Torah study. Yet it should be clear to anyone who reads the book, and knows something about R. Elyashiv, that all we have in these stories are an aspect of R. Elyashiv’s personality that really has nothing to do with absorption in Torah study. There have been plenty of great Torah scholars who were people-persons and conversationalists.

It is obvious that someone who by nature is extremely introverted, as R. Elyashiv was, will be more inclined to find his place among the books than an extrovert. But to describe R. Elyashiv’s personality as a complete outgrowth of Torah study is a distortion and shows a basic ignorance of human psychology. We didn’t need R. Nathan Kamenetsky’s Making of a Godol to realize that great Torah scholars encompass all sorts of personalities and one sort is not any more “authentic” than another. All we can say is that people, including gedolim, are different.[34] While haredim who are knowledgeable about the history of Torah figures love to talk about their different personalities, it is also the case that it is harder in that world to publish something that seriously analyzes a Torah sage’s personality. Yet without such an attempt, you will never get a real biography, only hagiographies.

Here are some quotations from Ha-Shakdan, vol. 2, pp. 246, 248, and plenty more could be added:

הגרי"ש לא מתייחס לכל אחד, וכאשר הוא כן מתייחס למשהו, הוא בוחן בעין משלו כל נושא. הכרעותיו בנושאים רגישים ביותר – ענייניות וחסרות רגש. גם עם צאצאיו, ואפילו הקרובים שביניהם, נוהג הוא באותה ידה של איפוק ואדישות.

כאשר ביום השלישי למלחמה פשטה השמועה שהצבא כבש את העיר העתיקה, והכותל המערבי בידי היהודים, הדבר עורר התרגשות גדולה מאוד. בשלב זה כבר לא עצר בעצמו בעל המעשה, וניגש לרגע לפינתו של רבינו לספר לו כי הצבא כבש כבר את כל מזרח העיר מידי הירדנים! הגרי"ש פסק מהלימוד והקשיב לו עד שכילה לדבר, ולא הגיב כלל. המספר המשיך בהתלהבות: והכותל המערבי גם כן משוחרר! רבינו שמע אותו עד הסוף באדיבות ותשומת לב כדרכו, ובלא שום זיק של התרגשות שב להתנועע ולהחזיר את עיניו בחזרה לגמרא הגדולה להמשיך מהמילה שפסק בה.

There are lot of further examples I can cite from other great rabbis. Here is how the Hafetz Hayyim is described by his son:

Father had no personal friendships with anyone all the days of his life, even though he loved every Jew and especially men learned in the Torah, whom he loved as his very self. Many times did I hear him tell how the daughter of the Vilna Gaon, who lived in another town, once paid a visit to her father. The Gaon inquired after her health and that of her husband and children and then immediately returned to his studies. The daughter began to weep at her father’s apparent indifference, but he declared, “I do not have the time” [in Yiddish, nitoh kein zeit]. So it is not surprising that father, of blessed memory, had no material friendships with anyone . . . . I once heard him explain the verse “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart” (Deuteronomy 6:5) to mean that the heart should be so filled with the love of God as to leave no room in it for any other loves.[35]

R. Joseph David Epstein, who cites this passage, hastens to add that this sort of behavior is only intended for the spiritual elites.[36] הדברים האמורים לעיל, על הסתייגות מאהבה משפחה, ועל העלמת עין מצרכי בית, הרי אך לבעלי מדרגה וקדושי עלינו המה

What is one to make of the following story, found in Meir Einei Yisrael (Bnei Brak, 2004), vol. 1, p. 274?:

שמועה התהלכה בינינו שרבי משה לנדינסקי למד שמונה שנים עם חבר בוולוז'ין ולא ידע מה שמו של הבחור. הסיפור הקטן הזה מדגיש את אישיותו העצומה, שהיה בכל הוויתו רק מתמיד, ומעבר ללימוד לא נחשב אצלו שום דבר.

Quite apart from the fact that I don’t believe such a story is possible, I wonder why this is quoted as praise. Is this supposed to be a characteristic of a Torah personality, that you can learn with someone for eight years and never even take the trouble to learn the person’s name? I can’t imagine that the Hafetz Hayyim – R. Londinsky was the rosh yeshiva in Radin – or any of the mussar teachers would think that this is appropriate bein adam le-havero behavior.

Here is another story, found in R. Moshe Sternbuch, Ta’am ve-Da’at, vol. 1, pp. 244-245.

I don’t believe such a story is even remotely possible. R. Akiva Eger was a real person, with real feelings, and he loved his daughter. The idea that he could be at her house for an entire Shabbat, after not having seen her for years, and be so engrossed in learning that he didn’t even notice that a different woman had taken her place is simply not believable. Yet it is significant that the story is told as an example of praise, and R. Sternbuch concludes by pointing to it as an example of how gedolim so involved in Torah study forget everything else in the world. If you would repeat such a story before a Modern Orthodox crowd they would be horrified. What would the haredi masses think of such a story? Would they be inspired by the commitment to learning above all else, or would they share the Modern Orthodox negative reaction?

R. Yonason Rosman called my attention to the following passage in R. Yitzhak Zilberstein’s Tuvkha Yabiu, vol. 1, p. 38, which describes how a yeshiva student was so involved in his learning that he named a newborn daughter with the same name as one of his other daughters, forgetting he already had a child with that name!

אחד האברכים המצויינים בבני ברק, העמל ויגע בתורה, קרא לבתו שנולדה לו בשם פלוני ורק לאחר מכן נזכר שאחת מבנותיו נקראת כבר בשם זה... המדובר במשפחה ברוכה ילדים עד כדי כך שהאב הספיק לשכוח שכבר נעשה שימוש בשם זה. והוא פלא!

Whether the story ever happened is not important. What is important is that it is being told on the assumption that people will be impressed with the yeshiva student’s total absorption in his studies

To be continued

* * * *

1. In recent years, books have appeared on every possible halakhic topic. This genre keeps expanding and here is the title page of a new book, Asurei ha-Melekh by R. Mordechai Agasi of Boro Park.[37]

I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, but this book certainly did. It is a large two volume set, and the first half of volume one deals with the halakhot relevant to one who is serving time in prison (or as I told a friend, “the halakhot of being in jail”). The rest of the book contains words of inspiration, stories, prayers, etc. all of importance for the prisoner. As the author explains in his introduction, the book is needed because of the increase of haredim in the prisons.

התרבתה, לדאבונינו, האוכלוסייה החרדית בבית הסוהר, וגדלה פי כמה.

It really is incredible when one thinks about this, since not too long ago it would have been simply unimaginable that such a sefer would have been needed.

2. Many people are interested in the Rogochover, R. Joseph Rozin. There is no question that he had a fascinating personality and there are many interesting stories about him. Yet very few people actually study his works because they are so difficult. Until now, nothing of significance has appeared in English on his halakhic thought. Therefore, I am happy to recommend R. Dovber Schwartz’s new book, The Rogochover Gaon, for those seeking to learn about this significant figure.

[1] R. Abba Mari of Lunel, Minhat Kenaot, ed. Dimitrovsky (Jerusalem, 199), p. 317 (ch. 23) wrote:

ואני לא על המחזיק בספרי היונים אני כועס ולא אחשבנו ככופר לא כמחליף חק ולא כעוזב ברית ומפר ואם נמצא בהם דבר טוב אפי'בדף אחד, מציל על כל הספר

See also R. Jacob Lorberbaum, Ma’aseh Nissim (Jerusalem, 2011), Introduction:

וכבר אמרו וידוע כי בדברי תורה אף אם ימצא דבר אחד טוב מציל על כל הספר כולו

In his Torat Gittin (Jerusalem, 2003), Introduction, he writes:

ואמר החכם כי דבר אחד טוב יציל על כל הספר כולו

See also R. Yissachar Tamar, Alei Tamar (Jerusalem, 1979), Zeraim, vol. 1, Introduction, p. 14.

[2] Or Torah, Iyar 5772, p. 741.

[3] R. Mazuz has more to say about the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition of this commentary, which I will perhaps return to in a future post..

[4] See The Limits of Orthodox Theology, pp. 15-16.

[5] The quote that follows come from the Oxford ms. of the Gaon’s commentary to Prov. 10:16. See the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition, p. 110, n. 56.

[6] Although Shema Shelomo cites this story as appearing in R. Zvi Ezekiel Michaelson’s Pinot ha-Bayit, I cannot find it there.

[7] R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yehaveh Da'at, vol. 5, no. 35, also provides the source that eluded Sofer.

[8] Credit for this example goes to R. Eliyahu Tziyon Sofer, Tziyon Eliyahu (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 273.

[9] (Vilna, 1982 ), vol. 2, p. 19a.

[10] See Mordechai Wilensky, Hasidim u-Mitnagdim (Jerusalem, 1970), vol. 2, p. 178. This report, contained in the early anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im, includes names and places and was written not long after the event described. Nevertheless, I would not accept the story as historically accurate without confirmation from other sources, which as far as I know has not been found. See also S.'s post here which discusses another alleged murder by Hasidim. In Sippurei Niflaot mi-Gedolei Yisrael (Tel Aviv, 1969), p. 279, it reports that R. Menahem Mendel of Kotzk thought that R. Shmelke of Nikolsburg made a mistake when he forced his "enlightened" opponents to leave the city. What he should have done, according to the Kotzker, is have them killed.

[11] One positive recent development is that at least some people in Bnei Brak have woken up to the sexual abuse problem. See here where parents are advised not to send children outside by themselves. In the letter it refers to incidents related to “kedushat and taharat Yisrael”. What exactly does this mean? The English translation speaks of kedushat Yisrael being “compromised” by certain “terrible incidents”. Does this mean that the kedushat Yisrael of the victims has been compromised? If so, this is an unbelievably offensive statement, since how can the kedushat Yisrael of a victim, who did no wrong, be compromised based on the evil actions of someone else?

[12] R. Zvi Yehudah Kook wrote (Sihot ha-Rav Zvi Yehudah: Bereshit [Jerusalem, 1993], p. 242):

ר'שלמה זלמן זצ"ל זקני היה אומר על סוג מסוים של קנאים: "הם חיות קדושות, חיות טורפות שקשה לסבול, אבל בסגנון של קדושה."אמנם קדושים הם, אבל בגלל שנאתם לישראל, מתעכבת אהבת ד'אליהם, כדברי הגר"א. ביחס לאף לא אחד מגדולי ישראל, לא מצאנו שבח שהיה שונא ישראל. נכון שלפעמים יש צורך במלחמה מעשית, אבל לא בשנאה, שהיא קטנות.

When R. Zvi Yehudah refers to the Gaon he has in mind the Gaon’s comment to Tikunei Zohar, 57b s.v. דבגינייהו where he writes:

דהש"י שונא מקטרג על בניו אף הקדושים

Elsewhere, R. Zvi Yehudah elaborates (Or li-Netivati [Jerusalem, 1989], p. 307:

חטא גדול הוא לקטרג על ישראל ובהרבה ספרים הוא מוזכר. הגר"א אומר :"ד'יתברך שונא את המקטרגים על בניו – אף הקדושים,"הגר"א משתמש במילה נוראה זו "שונא"– אפילו על קדושים וצדיקים, אם הם מקטרגים על ישראל ח"ו.

See also R. Shlomo Aviner’s commentary to R. Kook, Orot ha-Tehiyah (Beit El, 2009), vol. 2, p. 175.

[13]> Moshe Aharon Perlman, ed., Mi-Pi Dodi (Jerusalem, 1935), p. 22.

[14] In opposition to this, see the continuation of the passage quoted above from Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho, p. 43:

שינויי דעות בכמה ענינים רוחניים וחומריים אינו מעכב, ואדרבא מועיל, מכל הטפוסים יצא הדבר הטוב הכללי. אלא שהכל צריכים להתאחד בנוגע לכללות קיומה של תורה

[15] See here where Chaim Shaulson asks why R. Auerbach as a zaken mamre is hayav sekilah. According to Sanhedrin 11:1 a zaken mamre is to be strangled (henek).

[16] JShabbat 1:4. See Tosafot, Gittin 36b s.v. אלא.

[17] In general, R. Kanievsky, whose unique greatness in Torah knowledge must be acknowledged by everyone, has made a number of astounding statements over the years. (A few years ago the internet was abuzz with his statement that Jews have a different number of teeth than non-Jews, and more recently we all heard about what he said regarding people who have iPhones.) These sorts of statements can charitably be explained by the fact that since his entire world is Torah he relies on intermediaries for knowledge about the wider world. But this raises the question of why he should be the address for questions relating to political matters.

To give an example of the problem I am referring to, here are two pages from R. Shmuel Baruch Genut, Iggeret ha-Melekh (Elad, 2013), pp. 3-4..

R. Kanievsky declares that there is no medical danger from smoking and the doctors don’t know what they are talking about. Despite his unquestioned Torah brilliance, such as answer shows a complete disregard of reality and encourages unhealthy living. I ask those readers from the haredi world, doesn’t this show that perhaps R. Kanievsky is not the best person to ask when it comes to matters outside of “pure” Torah? I don’t ask this to be disrespectful. I would really like to hear from people who follow R. Kanievsky how they see the matter.

Finally, let me say a word about askanim, since I referred to them. While in the case of the incomprehensible attacks on R. Auerbach I raise the possibility that the askanim have poisoned R. Kanievsky's view of R. Auerbach, I am not one of those who blaime everything on the "evil askanim" The first time I ever really heard the askanim blamed in a major way was when Making of a Godol was banned. In the first few days after the ban appeared, I remember seeing various people on the internet saying that it couldn't be true, that it was just the askanim, etc. In the last decade there have been numerous other statements and bans that upset many people, especially in the American haredi world, and we have heard over and over again that gadol x couldn't have said that which was attributed to him, and that it was a creation of the askanim. Yet in almost every case we have seen that American haredi apologists were wrong and the gadol indeed said that which was attributed to him.

[18] This comment was originally made by R. Yehudah Naki in his note to R. Ovadiah Yosef, Ma’yan Omer, vol. 12, p. 145.

[19] See also Deut. 23:14: ויתד תהיה לך על אזנך.

[20] This was pointed out to me years ago by R. Nathan Kamenetsky.

[21] See Yitzhak Avinery, Heikhal Rashi (Tel Aviv, 1960), vol. 4, p. 436.

[22] When I pointed out the grammatical problem of Yated Ne’eman’s title to R. Meir Mazuz, he responded:

אבל הם כותבים ביום ששי מדור "יתד חָדָה". ולפי דעתם שהוא לשון זכר צ"ל יתד חָד (כמו קם, שב, רץ, מנחי ע"ו) אא"כ סוברים שהוא אנדרוגינוס, פעם זכר ופעם נקבה

A few years ago it was reported that R. Mazuz was going to burn pages from Yated Ne’eman as part of the Purim festivities. See here.

[23] Stern writes:

In one startling vignette, they recount that as their father was preparing to leave on a journey of self-reflection, his favorite child, Shlomo Zalman, fell gravely ill. Elijah refused to change his plans. Only after a month away “not thinking about his family or his children” did the Gaon find himself on the toilet one day wondering about the boy’s well-being (for one is not supposed to think thoughts of Torah then.) He immediately returned home.

This story comes from the Gaon’s sons’ introduction to his commentary on Shulhan Arukh, and Stern has accurately reported what appears there with one exception. According to the text, the Gaon was in the בית הרחיצה when he recalled his son. While today people use the term “washroom” synonymously with “lavatory”, in this text the meaning is “bathhouse” not “toilet”.

The story recorded with the Gaon might also have a connection to Maimonides’ Guide, as Maimonides writes, Guide 3:51, that the time to focus on worldy things is “while you eat or drink or bathe” (emphasis added). This connection was noted by R. Meir Mazuz, Darkhei ha-Iyun (Bnei Brak, 2012), p. 194.

[24] Mistikah u-Meshihiyut me-Aliyat ha-Ramhal ad ha-Gaon mi-Vilna (Jerusalem, 1999), pp. 258-259.

[25] See ibid., where Morgenstern shows that a statement about the Gaon by his grandson was omitted from the introduction to a book. Although this statement refers to how the Gaon expressed no interest in his grandson or his family, I do not believe it was omitted because of a fear that others would regard this as criticism of the Gaon, but rather due to a general concern of how the Gaon would appear in readers’ eyes.

[26] David Singer and Moshe Sokol, “Joseph Soloveitchik: Lonely Man of Faith,” Modern Judaism 2:3 (October 1982), p. 259.

[27] “Peninim be-Mishnat ha-Gra,” Yeshurun 18 (2006), p. 890.

[28] The Gaon’s comment is in Peirush al Kamah Aggadot (Vilna, 1800), pp. 3b-4a (Stern mistakenly gives the reference as pp. 5-6.)

[29] Hashukei Hemed: Sanhedrin, Introduction, pp. 6-7.

[30] R. Yaakov Moshe Harlap describes R. Kook as having such concern for the kelal that his own relationship with his family was not in any way special to him, and he mentions an episode with R. Zvi Yehudah that illustrated this. See his letter in Me-Avnei ha-Makom 11 (2000), pp. 51-53 (part of the letter is found here):

ואף גם בצער קרובי משפחתו לא היה מרגיש בהם יותר ממה שהרגיש באחרים, שכן בכל מבטו ובחוג ידיעתו לא היה נמצא מושג של פרטים כי אם כללים, ומאי נפקא מיניה בינם לבין אחרים

R. Harlap's description of R. Kook stands at odds with so much else we know about the special relationship between R. Kook and R. Zvi Yehudah.
[31] 3 vols. (Jerusalem, 2010-2013). All references in this post are to volume 1 unless otherwise noted.

[32] See Yeshurun 28 (5773), pp. 349ff., for three letters from the 1950s from R. Elyashiv to R. Chaim Kanievsky. In the greeting at the beginning of these letters he is careful to mention not only his daughter but also his granddaughter.

[33] The English title is Rav Elyashiv: A Life of Diligence and Halachic Leadership. This translation is also noteworthy, in that as far as I know, it is the only time that Artscroll has allowed material explicitly degrading Torah scholars to appear in its books. One does not find this in the works of Jonathan Rosenblum, Aharon Sorasky, or any of the other writers published by Artscroll. While the following sentence is typical of haredi works published in Israel, it is quite shocking that Artscroll included it, while at the same time deleting other parts of the book. P. 176 n. 5: “Rav Yoel Kluft, av beis din of Haifa, once remarked to his students, ‘If I would be offered a job today as a plumber, I would leave dayanus.’ This sharp statement expressed the bitter feelings of Torah-true dayanim toward the establishment that employed them.” So I guess the many dayanim who didn’t (and don’t) feel this way about being part of the Israeli government-funded batei din are not to be regarded as Torah-true.

[34] Yechezkel Moskowitz was kind enough to send me the booklet "עניני השקפה: Notes of a תלמיד" which appeared in 2004 and records various teachings from R. Henoch Leibowitz. The following is relevant to the matter we are discussing (nos. 5 and 24 from the booklet).

No שיחת חולין? We can't live like that, so לשם שמים we need to keep our שמחת החיים. Some גדולים of the previous דור were able to be serious, but that may have been because of their personality. חפץ חיים did make some jokes occasionally. [RH (Rosh ha-Yeshiva) told us R. Chaim Ozer joked a lot but R. Elchonon rarely ever.]

As a young man, R'דוד [R. Dovid Leibowitz] was by the חפץ חיים when a man came in and began complaining to the ח"ח about a certain גדול that he felt had hurt him in a certain way. R'דוד was sure the ח"ח would reprimand the man for speaking such about a גדול! But the ח"ח just said "Nu, that's the גדולים of our דור!" R'דוד learned 2 things. 1) It's שייך for גדולים to do something wrong. 2) He's still a גדול! The ח"ח said "that's the גדולים of our times" meaning he's still a גדול but he has more faults. In our youth, we think a גדול is by definition perfect -- and if he's not then he's not a גדול. It's not so.

See also R. Yitzhak Dadon, ed., Rosh Devarkha (Jerusalem, 2010), p. 548, where R. Avraham Shapiro is quoted about a certain Torah scholar (not R. Elyashiv, so I have been informed by the source of the story). Yet the message is also applicable with regard to Ha-Shakdan and R. Elyashiv, i.e., there isn’t just one path, and devotion to Torah study doesn’t create one identical personality.

בשיחה שהיתה לכמה תלמידים עם רבינו זצ"ל, הוזכר רב פלוני מרבני דורנו, ואחד הנוכחים הוסיף ואמר באזני הנוכחים: הוא צדיק גדול! רבינו ששמע זאת, פנה אל זה ששיבח ושאל בסקרנות: איך אתה יודע? אותו תלמיד השיב: הוא תמיד בכובד ראש, עם פנים רציניות, אף פעם לא ראיתי אותו צוחק . . . מיד דיבר [הגר"א שפירא] בשבח אותו תלמיד חכם מצדדים אחרים שהכיר בו, והוסיף באזני התלמידים ואמר: שלא תחשבו ש"צדיק"זה דוקא מי שלא יודע לחייך, לזה יש לפעמים סיבות אחרות שאינו יודע לחייך, ואפשר להיות צדיק אמיתי עם מצב רוח טוב.

[35] Mikhtevei ha-Rav Hafetz Hayyim (New York, n.d.), Dugma mi-Darkhei Avi, no. 68 (p. 37), translation in Louis Jacobs, Holy Living: Saints and Saintliness in Judaism (Northvale, 1990), p. 51.

[36] Mitzvot ha-Bayit (New York, 1972), vol. 1, p. 138.

[37] I wonder about the title of the book, which is derived from Gen. 39:20. אסורי is the ketiv, but אסירי is the keri, so why isn’t the title Asirei ha-Melekh?

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TU BISHVAT: TREE AND THOU

January 14, 2014, 7:12 pm

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TU BISHVAT: TREE AND THOU

by Alan Zelenetz

Rabbi Alan Zelenetz, M.Phil. has been professionally involved in Jewish education, academia, and independent scholarship for more than twenty-five years, including leadership positions as principal of Torah and General Studies of Yeshivah of Flatbush Middle Division and Director of Curriculum Development of Teachers College Innovations, Columbia University.

DYNAMIC GREEN

From their cosmic vantage point in outer space, NASA satellites orbiting our planet beam down real-time streaming video of Earth’s surface. They reveal that 75% of our world is “a relatively unchanging ocean of blue,” the remaining 25% “a dynamic green” terra firma, confirming the dominance of vegetation and the fecundity of plant life on dry land. It’s not difficult for us to re-imagine NASA’s spectacular photographs as screenshots capturing the magnificence of the third day of Creation described in Sefer Bereishit, the Book of Genesis – a gathering of waters followed by growing grass and the flourishing of flowers and trees.

NASA’s cutting edge science and technology provide a God’s-eye view of the plant world unique to our modern day and age, but the variety and beauty of Earth’s species of flora has been the subject of literary poets for millennia. From Ovid of Ancient Rome, who sings of elms and oaks and laurel trees transformed, to the 18^th century Scottish lyricist Robert Burns, whose “O my Love’s like a red, red rose” remains, perhaps, the best known simile in verse, the botanical side of nature has forever held fascination for us humans who share our globe and gardens with the kingdom of plants. In his fantasy epic, Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien goes so far as to envision the Ents, a noble race of walking, talking trees, while contemporary American poet Louise Glück personifies a real flower, “The Red Poppy,” which speaks to us in a floral first person, “I have / a lord in heaven/ called the sun, and open / for him, showing him / the fire of my own heart…”

Though talking trees are nothing if not a prime example of poetic license, there are many scientists today who embrace the metaphor in their practice. In a recent New Yorker essay, “The Intelligent Plant,” journalist Michael Pollan reports the latest research in plant biology. He describes attempts to prove (not without controversy and critics) that plants are capable of cognition and communication, and he includes as an example a leaf’s ability “to signal other leaves to mount a defense” against impending infestation by insects. Astonishing as is the scientific hypothesis of “thinking” plants, emotionally stirring as is the imagery of poets, they ought to be comfortably familiar to us as Jews, who have been sensitive to our seed-bearing cohabitants on earth literally since the beginning of traditional Jewish time.

FIRST PLANT YOUR SAPLING

Had there been an ancient Green Party, the Torah would have been its platform. The very first pages of the Jewish Bible introduce humankind at its origin, woman and man implanted with divine purpose in the Garden of Eden. Commenting on this edenic scene, Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch intuits God’s purpose: the destiny of humankind and the earth is Paradise. By working the earth, human beings raise “its purely physical nature into playing a part in the…moral purposes of the world…we are shown what we should be, how we should live, how this world of ours would form a paradise…”

Several Books later, Sefer Devarim offers one of the most celebrated examples of the Written Law’s ethical and ecological sensitivity, “Lo tashchit…do not destroy [fruit-bearing] trees by wielding an ax against them, for from them you will eat, do not cut them down.” Based on this proscription, Judaism derives an overriding moral principle known as bal tashchit, prohibiting any random destruction or wanton waste in all walks of life.

An Aggadicpassage in the Oral Law carries Judaism’s recognition of the sanctity of plant life on Earth to an extraordinary extreme: Rabbi Yochanan used to say, “If you are about to plant a sapling and a cry goes out, ‘Come, hurry, the Moshiach is here!’, be certain first to plant your sapling, then go and greet the Messiah.”

Yes, our Jewish love affair with fruit, flower, and foliage has, indeed, been an eternal one. We can already discern the strains of a love song in Talmudic times when the Sages teach us how to bless the trees “who” share our lives, “Tree, O tree, with what should I bless you? Your fruit is already sweet...Your shade is plentiful… May it be G‑d’s will that all the trees planted from your seeds should be like you . . .” And it continues in our own day and age, when Yossi Klein Halevi reminds us – in describing a young Israeli kibbutznik’s attempt to preserve a tactile encounter with the fruit he harvests by machine – “If you don’t say good morning to the tree, he had learned from the old-timers, the tree won’t say happy new year to you.”

WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT TU BISHVAT

To speak of plant life and Judaismis to speak, of course, of Tu Bishvat, the day marked in the Mishnah and on the Jewish calendar as our New Year of Trees. This designation carries specific halachic obligations regarding agricultural tithes, both in the ancient and contemporary lands of Israel. But, true to our theme, we keep here to the celebratory and symbolic aspects of the holiday.

In hisZiv ha’Minhagim, Rabbi Yehudah Dov Zinger paints a scene of ”the bare fruit tree in the dead of winter showing little sign of vitality; nonetheless, as its New Year of 15 Shevat approaches, life begins to course through its roots once again, it revives with the flowing sap.” And Eliyahu Kitov, in Sefer ha’Toda’ah, explains why the fifteenth of Shevat is considered a rosh ha’Shanah and celebrated, “…because [Tu Bishvat] has an aspect of praise of the land, as this is the time that the soil renews its vigor and the fruits are full and praiseworthy, which is what the land is known for…Thus, the day the land renews itself is, indeed, a day of great joy for all of Israel.”

To reiterate, in Jewish thought and practice a tree is no simple metaphor. The trees of Tu Bishvat are at the essence of our understanding the interrelatedness of God’s world. The Torah, in factmakes the comparison over and over. In both Tehillim and in the Talmud we find fruit trees and cedars breaking into songful praise of God.And the prophet Isaiah declares explicitly,“For as the days of a tree shall be the days of my people.”

Indeed, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson, the last Lubavitcher Rebbe, pointedly asks us to “reflect on the lessons we can derive from our affinity with our botanical analogue.” The Rebbe goes on to suggest that, just as a tree’s primary components are its roots, trunk, branches, leaves, and fruit, so, too, people’s spiritual lives consist of the same: “The roots represent faith, our source of nurture and perseverance. The trunk, branches and leaves are the body of our spiritual lives – our intellectual, emotional and practical achievements. The fruit is our power of spiritual procreation– the power to influence others, to plant a seed in a fellow human being and see it sprout, grow and bear fruit.”

A WALK WITH RAV KOOK

This identification of human being and tree is the foundation of the moral dimension of Tu Bishvat. It is the living Torah teaching us Chesed, to feel compassion for all living things, and it is embodied in a living example recounted in the memoirs of Reb Aryeh Levin, who recalls an early afternoon stroll with Rav Kook in the fields of Jaffa: “On the way, I plucked some branch or flower. Our great master was taken aback; and then he told me gently, ‘Believe me: In all my days I have taken care never to pluck a blade of grass or a flower needlessly, when it had the ability to grow or blossom. You know the teaching of the Sages that there is not a single blade of grass below, here on Earth, which does not have a heavenly force (or angel) above telling it, Grow! Every sprout and leaf of grass says something, conveys some meaning… Every creature utters its song…’ ”

In I And Thou, philosopher Martin Buber explores how, as human beings, we come to understand the world by interacting with the others, the objects, and the creatures all around us. Buber posits a higher level of human existence that depends upon a series of “I/Thou” relationships, the most exalted of which is with the Divine, “One who truly meets the world goes out also to God.”

Not surprisingly, Buber turns to a tree to help define his idea of an “I/Thou” relationship, asserting that “…as I contemplate the tree I am drawn into a relation, and the tree ceases to be an It…Whatever belongs to the tree is included…its conversation with the elements and its conversation with the stars…I encounter…the tree itself.”

A TREE’S EMBRACE

In her book Celebrate!, author Lesli Koppelman Ross catalogues many Jewish holiday practices and customs throughout history and from around the globe. Kabbalists early on created a Tu Bishvat seder that has been perpetuated in many fruits and many forms, ranging from the mystic to the ecological to the feminist, down to our own day. In some Mediterranean Jewish communities on Tu Bishvat“women would embrace trees at night, praying for fertility and many children. In Salonica, it was believed that the trees themselves embrace on Tu Bishvat, and anyone seeing them do so would have his/her wish fulfilled.” And so we seem to circle back, within a Jewish frame of reference now, to Tolkien’s Ents and Ovid’s trees and transformations.

The French linguist Émile Benveniste made the observation that “‘personal pronouns’ are never missing from among the signs of a language, no matter what its type, epoch, or region may be. A language without expression of person cannot be imagined.” Poet Maureen N. McClane offers her own riff on Benveniste’s thought, “To command you, to address you, I must think you. ’I’ must think ‘you. And yet even as I think you I interfuse you with my own nature…”

On Tu Bishvat, “I” must think “Tree,” “Tree” must think “Thou.” We may even, in homage to Benveniste, pun on the “Tu” in Tu Bishvat and think of it as “tu,” the French second person pronoun of affection and familiarity, reminding us that You, the trees of Shevat, and we, the people of this planet, share earthly and earthy roots from which we draw succor of body, mind, and spirit. In our oneness we join voices in celebration of our Creator.

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New book Announcement- Megale Temirin: Special sale

by Eliezer Brodt

יוסף פרל, מגלה טמירין, ההדיר על פי דפוס ראשון וכתבי-יד והוסיף מבוא וביאורים יונתן מאיר, מוסד ביאליק. ג'חלקים. כרכים 'מגלת טמירין'כולל 345 עמודים +מח עמודים; כרך 'נספחים'עמ' 349-620; כרך 'חסידות מדומה'עיונים בכתביו הסאטיריים של יוסף פרל, 316 עמודים.

Megale Temirin(Revealer of Secrets) ed. Jonatan Meir. Three volumes, Mosad Bialik, Jerusalem

This is a short description of the work:

Megale Temirin, was first published in Vienna in 1819, and is considered one of the sharpest and wittiest pieces of Jewish literature written in the first half of the nineteenth century. It is perhaps the most important piece of Hebrew prose composed before the stories of Mendele Mocher Seforim. A sly and complex story deriding Hasidism and Hasidim, it is told through the correspondence between the beadles of Hasidic courts and contemporary rabbis. It presents a dark picture of avaricious frauds and swindlers whose main concern was control over territory and the souls of believers, a goal achieved by beguiling the authorities and attacking all opponents. Perl lends his book a ‘Hasidic’ feel both in its physical design and in its language, presenting a Maskilic version of the classic work Shivchei Habesht- that lays Hasidism bare so that no reader will ever be able to look at that, or any other Hasidic book, in the same way again.

In addition to the book’s satiric sting, which would have been enough to bring its readers a dual pleasure, Perl’s hints at contemporary people and places, hidden within anagrams and numerological tricks. With the unraveling of these clues, which also include the use of actual Hasidic sources, the book is a valuable, contemporary view of historical reality. A meticulous reading of the book may therefore open a window on the hidden worlds of Hasidism and the Haskalah at the start of the nineteenth century.

The first volume (Imagined Hasidism) of this collection serves as an introduction to the complex satirical writings of Josef Perl of Tarnopol (1773-1839). At the center of the book stands an analysis of the satires, Megale Temirin (1819) and Bochen Tzadik (1838), including a systematic treatment of the ‘characters’ in the central works and a discussion of the dozens of manuscripts to be found in the Perl Archive in Jerusalem. Perl’s writings are analyzed here in the fuller context of Hebrew and Yiddish literature in general and Maskilic and Hasidic literature in particular, as well as other polemical writings and governmental records critical of Hasidism. The study thus presents a complex and nuanced picture of the relationship between literature and history, between the anti-Hasidic reports and the more complicated historical reality, and lays the groundwork for further research into the genre of nineteenth-century Maskilic satire.

The second and third volumes (Megale Temirin) present for the first time an annotated edition of Megale Temirin. It is based on the first edition and the scattered manuscripts and it includes a comparison to its Yiddish translation. The book is accompanied by appendices on its origins and contents, including fundamental treatments of several passages: an explication of the encoded names, the Hasidic sources used by the author, and the variants found in the manuscripts and in the only edition of the book in Yiddish.

The editor of the book, Professor Jonatan Meir, teaches in the Goldstein-Goren Department of Jewish Thought at Ben-Gurion University. He has published numerous articles and books on the Haskalah of Eastern Europe, Hasidism, and a number of varied topics in twentieth-century Kabbalah.

For a Table of Contents or more information about purchasing this work, feel free to contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

The set of three books is on sale for $62 before shipping. Shipping is available worldwide.

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The Jewish Reaction to the Livorno Earthquake of January 27, 1742

January 28, 2014, 4:11 pm

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The Jewish Reaction to the Livorno Earthquake of January 27, 1742

by Ovadya Hoffman

On January 27, 1742 (כב'שבט תק"ב) an earthquake shook Livorno, Italy to its core. All through the preceding months rumbling shuddered throughout the city. Pasqual R. Pedini, a recognized cleric at the time, elucidated in a letter beginning with the incipient rumblings of Jan. 16 carrying on until 27^th a vivid depiction of the earthquake’s manifestation and impact (The Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society of London, London 1809; VIII p. 568, “An Account of the Earthquakes Felt in Leghorn”). Today with minimal research anyone can gain insight into the occurrence, both in secular historiography or seismological analyses of its nature, so I won’t elaborate on it. Here my sole intention is to produce some rare and, more importantly, non-reproduced Jewish material (hereis a brief chronicle of Italian seismic history referenced in Jewish sources).

Of note is the seferShivchei Todah(Livorno 5504)[1] from R. Malachi HaCohen, author of the famed Yad Malachi[2]. In his introduction, the author tells us that he composed the piyutim(prayers and hymns) in the wake of the miracles that occurred during the earthquake(s). The rabbis of the community instructed the people to fast and recite different prayers, at the same time offering words of inspiration in the different synagogues to get the public to focus on self introspection. In many quarters, especially in the communal synagogues and schools, Torah study groups of different levels of study were being held. Those tefilot were established as part of an annual memorial service marking the miracles, and included in the same sefer were other tefilot that were instituted to recite in times of distress. This is essentially how the “Purim Sheni” in Livorno was born[3]. HereEliezer Landshut gives an itemized list of the piyutim appearing in ST[4]. A more detailed report of the nature of the earthquakes was depicted by the well known R. Rafael Meldola, father of R. Avraham who headed the prominent publishing house, in his seferShever BaMitzarim (Livorno 5502) which was printed later that year of the earthquake. He too, as the aforementioned cleric did, begins his recount with the tremors that lead up to “the big bang”. Some have noted that aside for ST, R. Malachi authored a second seferresembling the former’s framework entitled Kol Tefilah, although I wonder if this is accurate. For one, I haven’t been able to locate it. But what’s more puzzling is why would he have written the same tefilot and print them under two different titles? And if they contain different tefilot, why not include them in one sefer to avoid future confusion or possible opposition between kehilot in respect to the age-old “Who has the right mesorah” dilemma? Another sefer ascribed to R. Malachi is Arucha U’marpeh. In the relatively new Maaseh Rokeach from R. Massoud C. Rokach (Jer. 5772; pirkei mavo ve’toldot ha’mechaber §6) they claim that R. Malachi is “בעל הקונטרס 'ארוכה ומרפא'תפילות ובקשות שונות על העיר ליוורנו מקומו.”. One problem with this is that the introduction to this seferclearly says that the pieces are taken from ST. The other issue is that on his tombstone, as is brought in the journal Ohr Olam (1;92), it gives the year of his passing as 5532 whereas the Arucha U’marpeh was only first printed in 5565, with no indication at all of this pamphlet being produced from R. Malachi’s manuscripts.

Once mentioning the Maaseh Rokeach (which was actually first printed the year of the earthquake[5]) it is also worth noting that one of his great students, R. Avraham Khalfon of Tripoli, also known by the acronym HaAvrech, copied in his sefer Maseh Zadikkim (pg. 522) large sections of the Shever BaMitzarim making it far more accessible than it was till then.

A similar sefer comprised of different tefilot for epidemics etc., not related directly to the earthquake in Livorno, was printed a year later in Venice entitled Matzil Nefashot. It contains ‘Tefilat HaDerech of the Ramban’, ‘Tefilat Yachid from R. Elazar HaKalir’ and other tefilot and bakashot. I wonder if the inspiration for this collection came from the events that occurred over in Livorno then followed by the printing of Shever BaMetzarim, or not.

Returning to the Shivchei Todah, though most of the content is legible[6] and printed in the classic neat Italian lettering, sadly the rich and brilliant introduction, printed in Rashi lettering, is not and so it is presented here (excluding the piece where he thanks the publishers which is not all that me’inyana d’yoma):

שבחי_תודה_מצוי''ן

[1] Some give an additional printing date of 1743 but I’m not certain why. All editions that I’ve seen have the same year “ובחמלתו הוא” printed on the cover page.

[2] With this opportunity, I’d like to clarify a confusion I’ve seen by some, referring to the Yad Malachi as “R. Malachi Montepescali”. If one looks at the author’s introduction to his Yad Malachi it is obvious that he did not go by this surname, rather, it was his forefather who did. Furthermore, I haven’t seen anyone identify the hometown of his ancestor(s), no less even see his name neither translated nor transliterated in English, and so the above given town is my own estimation.

[3] The Chida, in addressing a community who wanted to recite Hallel with a berachah for a different miracle (Chaim Sha’al 2;11), at the end of his responsa commends the rabbis of Livorno for instructing their community to recite Hallel because of the earthquake but to say it without a berachah. (Rav Y. Y. Weiss echoes this ruling, though in a more overt strict tone, regarding the attempt some made to recite Hallel commemorating the “miraculous” liberation from WWII (Minchat Yitzchak 10;10). For a complete discussion in general on reciting Hallel in such instances, see the famous responsa of R. Ovadia Yosef, zecher zaddik le’vracha, in Yabia Omer (vol. 6 OC §41).

[4] Hereis an article by N. Sakalov in his HaAsif on the prolific Landshut.

[5] At the around the same time and place, the Ohr HaChaim was being printed (Venice 5502), however printing didn’t go as smooth as you can see from these two different cover pages: one& two. While these as well as others were being printed in Venice, we do find other reputable seforim that were printed in Livorno that same year. More so, R. Malachi HaCohen aided greatly in the production of the responsa of R. Shlomo Zemach (Rashbash) ben R. Shimon (Rashbatz – two years later, R. Malachi wrote a haskamah upon the printing of the Rashbatz’s Yavin Shmua) and the organizing, together with a magnificent poetic biography, of the responsa of R. Yosef Irgas (Divrei Yosef).

[6] Two short notes on R. Malachi’s text: On pg. 2 of the seder ha’tefilot, it seems that in the piece of ‘Elokai Neshama’ R. Malachi followed the more uncommon rite and added “ומושל בכל הבריות” not like most Sefardim or even Italians, which he was himself. See also Yaffeh LaLev (kunteres acharon, OC §46:1). Some indeed had the custom to add it, see for example R. Sadia HaLevi in Neveh Zedek (hil. Berachos 1:5), but what’s interesting is that most Italians did not. Another noticeable difference is the word “נהודך” in ‘Baruch She’amar’.

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A Third Way: Iyyun Tunisai as a Traditional Critical Method of Talmud Study

February 3, 2014, 10:30 am

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A Third Way: Iyyun Tunisai as a Traditional Critical Method of Talmud Study[1]

by Joseph Ringel

The following is an excerpt from an article with the above title by Joseph Ringel. The full article, including the footnotes detailing the source materials, and the appendix, have been published in the Fall 2013 issue of Tradition (46:3), and is available for purchase at http://www.traditiononline.org/.

In recent years, scholars have taken a renewed interest in elucidating the specific methods used to study Jewish texts in yeshivas, both past and present. For example, Daniel Boyarin elucidated the classical late medieval/early modern Sephardic approach to Talmud study, and Norman Solomon published his dissertation on the development of the Analytic/Conceptual/“Brisker” approach to Talmud study in Lithuania in book form. These works are historical monographs, the purpose of which is to relate to the development of specific methods at specific times in history, not to connect those methods to the approaches utilized in present-day yeshivas. More recently, Mordechai Breuer wrote a magnificent work detailing the curricula and educational methods used in yeshivas throughout the ages until the present. Yet, despite Breuer’s painstaking research, he misses some of the more recent incarnations of older methodologies that he himself mentions. In 2006, Yeshiva University published the proceedings of the 1999 Orthodox Forum, which dealt with issues surrounding contemporary lomdut, in a volume entitled Lomdut: The Conceptual Approach to Jewish Learning. As can be seen from the title, the volume conflates contemporary lomdut (a term that is hard to define with precision but which will be used to describe any form of in-depth study of a text) with the Conceptual/Analytic /Brisker Approach and does not deal extensively with other specific forms of lomdut. In some cases, alternatives to the Brisker approach are presented as either halakha-oriented methods uninterested in more theoretical discussions or as academic approaches that are hostile to Jewish tradition.

This article will present the basics of one alternative method of lomdut, which is dubbed by its main contemporary champion, R. Meir Mazuz, as “Iyyun Tunisai,” or “Tunisian Analysis.” The first section of the article will present the basics of Iyyun Tunisai and its origins in Jewish tradition, thereby showing that not only is it a viable alternative to the Brisker approach but it is a fully traditional method with roots in classic rabbinic sources. The second section presents R. Mazuz’s critiques of alternative methods of study, in which he claims that the critical approach utilized by the Tunisian method allows the analyst to reach the correct understanding of the text at hand and to appreciate why each element of the text is an integral part of that text. Thus, unlike academic methodologies, which often undermine the sugya (the Talmudic discussion), Iyyun Tunisaiuses a critical approach in order to explain and link the different terms of the sugya, thereby strengthening the integrity of the sugya. The third section concludes with an analysis of the place of Iyyun Tunisaiin the yeshiva world and its prospects for the future.

I. Jerba in Bnei Brak: Yeshivat Kisse Rahamim and the Renewal of Sephardic Iyyun

As noted above, one of the main competitors for intellectual dominance in the yeshiva world is Iyyun Tunisai, a Sephardic method of study whose roots go back hundreds of years. Rabbi Meir Mazuz of Yeshivat Kisse Rahamim in Bnei Brak is the one responsible for the revival of this method. In order to gain a full appreciation for the context in which this method is being revived, it is necessary to give a brief overview of Yeshivat Kisse Rahamim. The yeshiva was founded by R. Meir Mazuz’s father, Rabbi and Tunisian Supreme Court Justice Matsliah Mazuz in Tunisia in 1962/63, and then re-established by his sons (Rabbis Meir and Tsemah Mazuz) in Israel in 1971, after having fled their native Jerba (an island off the Tunisian coast whose Jewish community was renowned for its scholarship) following the murder of their father by an Arab nationalist. Their school is an elite yeshiva with a rigorous examination process (only twenty-five percent of applicants are accepted), and its methodology is in keeping with its desire to produce not merely scholars but the leading posekim (jurists) of the next generation. The yeshiva also houses a bookstore that carries books published by Mekhon ha-Rav Matsliah, a press named for R. Matsliah Mazuz that (re-) publishes old Jerban and Tunisian commentaries on Talmud, grammatical works, new commentaries and textbooks written by students, graduates, and rabbis of the yeshiva, as well as siddurim and tikkunim based on the Jerban custom.

It is in this context of Sephardic-Jerban-Tunisian religious revival that the renewal of this method of iyyunis taking place. In two essays that he wrote on the subject of method of study (derekh limmud), R. Meir Mazuz (henceforth “R. Mazuz”) insists that, though he terms the method he champions “Tunisian analysis,” he assures his readers that the method was not limited to that geographical area but was at one point used throughout the Jewish world.Indeed, Iyyun Tunisaiwas originally codified not by a Tunisian rabbi, but by the Castilian R. Yitshak Canpanton (or Campanton; 1360-1463) in his Darkhei ha-Talmud(“The Ways of the Talmud”). Sephardic Iyyun as it was originally practiced was the subject of a seminal study by Daniel Boyarin, who claims that R. Canpanton interpreted various methods of analysis used in the Talmud in light of theories of semantics and language that were current in medieval Scholastic-Aristotelian works. Boyarin remarks that the method spread following the expulsion of the Jews from Spain to the sixteenth and seventeenth-century academies of “Safed and Jerusalem… Constantinople and Salonika… Cairo and Fez,” and then exclaims, “and how surprising it is that this method of learning has been almost entirely forgotten and is barely mentioned in the research laboratory (sadnat ha-mehkar) and in the house of study (beit ha-midrash) up until our very generation.” This carefully worded statement shows that the method has nevertheless not been entirely forgotten, even as the author does not seem to be aware of its existence in any significant beit midrash. This section will show that Sephardic iyyun has in fact been preserved in the “houses of study” of North Africa and is now undergoing a revival in Israel. Because Ashkenazi methods have dominated the yeshiva system for so long, a successful revival must encompass two elements: 1) a re-codification of the fine points of the methodology, with which most yeshiva-educated rabbis would not be familiar, and 2) a well-articulated attack on the regnant Ashkenazi methods that threaten the revival. R. Mazuz’s writings do both. What follows is an analysis of R. Mazuz’s positions as expressed in his first essay on methods of study, aptly entitled “Ma’amar be-Darkhei ha-Iyyun” (“Article on Methods of Analysis”).

The Basic Assumptions of the Method

R. Mazuz introduces his first article by terming his analytical approach ha-iyyun ha-yashar, “the straight analysis,” a term that functions as a polemical tool against other methods that he feels muddle the text instead of elucidating it in a step-by-step process. In vouching for the approach of ha-iyyun ha-yashar, R. Mazuz quibbles with Ramban’s theory of law, which asserts that, while scientific discussions result in exact conclusions, Jewish legal argumentation does not allow for definitive proofs. In contrast, R. Mazuz contends that over the centuries a methodology developed with the type of exactness necessary to properly determine the law. R. Mazuz’s rejection of inexactness in law parallels the same rejection that, according to Daniel Boyarin, stood at the heart of R. Canpanton’s methodology and its Aristotelian assumptions, which viewed any idea or interpretation of a text as provable or disprovable based on rational analysis. R. Mazuz’s confidence in the scientific acumen of his method becomes explicit when he states that the method’s goal is to “dig into and penetrate the original intention of the statements [at hand] with full confidence, without any hesitation or doubt.”

After a discussion of his method’s roots in the rabbinic tradition, R. Mazuz goes on to describe the method in depth:

The foundation of the foundations of iyyun is that there is nothing missing [from] or added onto the language of the Gemara, Rashi, and Tosafot. There is nothing missing – because the text has not come to shut out [information] but to explain [matters], and it is not proper [to think] that the main elements of the matters [under consideration] are missing from the Talmudic discussion [Aramaic sugya] and its commentaries, for they [the rabbis] have not come to test us with riddles… And there is nothing added – because our rabbis have always tried to write with brevity and exactness, [with] the small carrying the abundant [i.e. with a small number of words carrying great depth].

What R. Mazuz considers to be the foundation of Iyyun Tunisai is in fact already elucidated by R. Canpanton. Elements of one passage of R. Canpanton are echoed in R. Mazuz’s description above:

And always attempt to impute necessity for all of the words of a commentator or an author in all of his language: why did he say it and what did he intend with that language, whether to explain [an issue] or to derive [a concept] from another explanation or to resolve a difficulty or a problem. And take heed to limit [le-tsamtsem] his language and to derive [concepts from] it in a way that there will not be an extra word, for if it were possible express his intent, for example, in three words, why did he express [himself using] four [words]? And so you should do with the language of the Mishna and Gemara, that is, you should check their language so that there not be an extra word, and when it appears to you to be extra go back and analyze well, for they did not expand their words unnecessarily, for it is not a small matter, and the splendor of sages is to minimize words so that many concepts are included in small [numbers of] words, and to make their words few in quantity but great [lit. “many”] in quality, and there should not be within their words an extra word, even [if it consists] of one letter, as they [the Sages] have said ([B.T.] Hullin 63b), “A person should always teach his students in a concise way,” as you see in our Holy Torah, which was given from the Mouth of the Mighty One, which speaks with a concise language but includes many things…

The Importance of Syntax

R. Mazuz identifies the importance of syntax as the second major element of Iyyun Tunisai. He criticizes those who downplay the importance of understanding each word and its implications and the proper stopping points of statements, and complains that many students do not know the meanings of basic expressions, which can change depending on context. R. Mazuz then offers an example that highlights the importance of paying attention to syntax. In this example, an erroneous interpretation of a statement could have easily been averted if the commentator had thought about where to properly end the sentence.

R. Mazuz’s focus on the meaning of words is not paralleled in R. Canpanton’s codification, possibly because it is so simple that no reiteration is needed. However, in the current educational climate, R. Mazuz feels that stating what should be obvious is necessary. It seems that the tendency in many yeshivas to emphasize advanced analysis contributes to the lack of focus on more simple syntax. R. Mazuz feels that this lack of focus on the basics leads to avoidable misinterpretations of the text.

Commentary for the Purpose of Preventing Alternative Mistaken Interpretations

R. Mazuz proceeds to describe the third major element of Iyyun: “The third general rule of the methods of Iyyunis to ask, in every place, what was Rashi, Tosafot, or Maharsha bothered by, and from which error they were protected from that word and that sentence…”” In other words, the analyst studying the text should ask himself why a classical commentary would add in a seemingly extra word, or would use a seemingly odd phrase. Most often, the answer is that the commentator in question wanted to prevent his readers from making a mistaken assumption about the subject at hand, which they would have made without the quixotic phraseology that the commentator used. It follows that the seemingly extra word or the seemingly awkward phrase is in fact neither extra nor awkward, but necessaryfor the correct understanding of the text under discussion.

This type of linguistic analysis assumes that the unusual language of a commentator is used to prevent the reader from coming to an incorrect conclusion. This conclusion is referred to by the classic Sephardic me’ayyenim as sevara mi-baHuts, lit. “the logical construction from the outside” – i.e., a thought process whose origin comes from outside the text. R. Canpanton writes as follows:

… And afterwards [i.e. after reading through the text a number of times and determining what is stated explicitly and what should be understood implicitly] return to analyze if there is a novelty in what is understood from the language or not… if there is no novelty, raise a difficulty with the one who makes such a statement… “What is it [i.e. the statement] teaching us? [It is] obvious!” And if there is a novelty in its inference [i.e. if there is a novelty in what you have inferred from the statement], but there is no novelty in the essence of the statement [i.e. in the plain meaning of the statement], it is possible to say that he [i.e. the speaker] chose it [i.e. chose to make the statement in the way that he did] because of the inference… And certainly look carefully at every statement [and ask] what you would have thought based on your logic or what you would have adjudicated based on your sense before the tanna or amora would have come [to make his statement], for a great benefit will result for you from this [method], for if you yourself would have thought as he [did], ask him, “What [does this statement] teach us? It is obvious!” And if your logic contradicts his, you should know and search out what the necessity was that caused him to say thus, and [find out] what the weakness or bad element was within what you yourself had thought, and this [i.e. the logic you would have originally assumed] is called “the logical construction from the outside.”

Due to the abstract nature of this section, it is highly recommended that readers look through the appendix, which offers a concrete example of sevara mi-baHuts.

The Logical Flow of the Text

R. Mazuz identifies a fourth element of ‘Iyyun Tunisai, which relates to the logical flow of the text of Tosafot, who are known for posing many questions and answers in a row. R. Mazuz suggests stopping after each question-and-answer pair to analyze how each question was answered and how the next question relates to the previous question-and-answer. In this way, the student can identify in what way the main issue being discussed is resolved. This resolution is known as “the center of the resolution,” or merkaz ha-teruts.

The assumption that every element in a rabbinic text relates to the previous one or next one is spelled out explicitly by R. Canpanton at the beginning of Chapter Ten of his Darkhei ha-Talmud: “Always, for every statement and for every concept that is situated next to another, whether in Talmud or in Scripture (ba-Katuv), carefully observe the relationship and connection between those concepts situated next to each other, including what order the speaker is leading (molikh) with his words.”

R. Canpanton’s statement was made in reference to the literary structure of all rabbinic texts and specifically the Talmud. R. Mazuz’s focus on the literary structure of Tosafot is a natural outgrowth of Sephardic Iyyun’s general concern with the flow of the text. The emphasis on Tosafot began, at the very earliest, during the generation after the expulsion from Spain, with the spread of printed editions of the Talmud that included Tosafot’s commentaries. R. Canpanton himself never mentions Tosafot in his work, probably because manuscripts of Tosafot’s writings did not have widespread circulation in Spain. Instead, other passages highlight the importance of carefully analyzing Rashi and Ramban, whose commentaries were available at the time.

The Role of Writing and Revision

The fifth and final major element of Iyyun Tunisai that R. Mazuz identifies is the importance of writing and revision following one’s studies. The student should summarize his understanding of the commentary or Tosafot he is studying as a test to see whether he has understood it properly. If the student’s own words seem to match the commentator’s but are simply more expansive, the student has understood; if not, the student should review the commentary and revise his statement. Aside from the clarity of understanding the student gains, frequent writing and revision allows the student to express his ideas clearly. R. Mazuz notes that the rabbis of Jerba traditionally educated their students in such a manner, training their students to write their own novellae in a clear and organized fashion.

R. Mazuz’s Polemic against Lithuanian-style Methodologies and Its Significance

After having stated earlier in his essay that there is nothing extraneous to, or missing from, the language of the classical Jewish texts, R. Mazuz launches into a justification of this assumption and a polemic against alternative methods of study:

It follows that, if a person overloads explanations and commentaries regarding the intent of the early commentaries that do not flow necessarily (be-hekhreah) from the implication of the language and [of] the style or from the force of a contradiction… we should not accept his commentaries, but [instead] we should ask him, “What forced you [to say] thus? If you would like to dress [i.e., add on layers of meaning to the subject] and to expound [on it], expound and receive reward [for your efforts to come up with original ideas], but to say that Rashi or Rambam or one of the early commentaries intended abstract ideas and definitions that are ‘the finest of fine to the point where they cannot be examined’[2]– from where did this [conclusion] come to you? According to your words [i.e. explanation], why didn’t they [the early commentators] write [what you have expounded] explicitly? Do they speak in secret? Were they, God forbid, challenged [in their ability] to express [themselves] in writing, or did the matter in their eyes [have the status of] ‘the Mystery of Creation and the ‘Mystery of the Chariot,’ until hundreds of years later others arose to explain [their ideas] to them?” – From here derives the expression which is common among us [i.e. the Tunisian Jews], “rather, it is necessary” (ella mukhrah). And it is almost impossible to go through a single discussion in Iyyun Tunisai without [encountering the expression] “rather, it is necessary” tens of times… And in truth, through the necessity, the one who studies arrives at a straight and clear understanding, without dark cracks or crevices [an expression equivalent to “without any ambiguity”]. Everything is clear and lucid. If an objection is found from elsewhere [i.e. a different source not under discussion], let it remain an objection, as “a person does not die from an [unanswered] objection.” And this is the strength of iyyun: one who learns according to the method of pilpul and of the innovation of and breaking of logical constructions (sevarot) [that derive] from the air [i.e. one who resolves difficulties by advocating ungrounded logical constructions] will many times come across a specific discussion or source that uproots his entire pilpul, and because of his concern for his work, he will [come up with]… different forced explanations and will bend what is upright… But [for] one who learns in depth (ha-me’ayyen), this is not so. If he finds a possibility to iron out difficulties and to resolve contradictions, he is praiseworthy, but if he does not find [a solution], he does not retreat from his iyyun because of this, but says, “this is the [proper] understanding of the matters [at hand], and one should not veer off from the simple explanation (peshat).” Our rabbis the Tosafists, who resolved contradictions between hundreds of Talmudic discussions and [thereby] “made the entire Talmud into the likeness of a sphere”… were not ashamed to admit that there are no fewer than thirteen contradictory Talmudic discussions that are impossible to resolve… but that, nevertheless, the simple explanation should not be stripped [of its plain meaning], and what is concrete [i.e. obvious] should not be denied.

As a whole, R. Mazuz’s description is much less technical than that of R. Canpanton, thereby showing that it is intended for a different type of audience. This wide audience is the system of yeshiva students and the general community that draws from it, most of whom are studying according to the methods of pilpul mentioned by R. Mazuz. For this reason, R. Mazuz’s description of the method is polemical – he attacks alternatives to Iyyun Tunisai because he feels they project their own ideas onto the statements of earlier commentaries. R. Canpanton’s description is very technical and, in other passages, makes use of contemporaneous philosophical terminology. His style is descriptive in nature and seems to be merely codifying the specifics of an approach to text that had been developing since the previously popular Tosafist method of dialectic had achieved its aims.Unlike R. Canpanton, R. Mazuz is fighting an uphill battle against dominant alternative forms of learning that he dubs pilpul.

The term pilpul translates literally as “sharpness” and can be used in a non-technical sense to describe a general way of looking at a text or problem, or it can be a technical term for a very specific type of methodology. (In the past, the expression was even used to refer to methods that were similar to or identical with that of R. Canpanton.) Moreover, the term’s connotation can be positive (if the speaker intends to point out the advantages it offers in solving complex problems), neutral, or negative (as in the present case). By juxtaposing the term to pilpulto the phrase “the innovation and breaking of logical constructions” and by making specific arguments against it, it is clear that R. Mazuz is using pilpulin a technical sense to describe a specific methodology or specific methodologies. While, in theory, R. Mazuz can be referring to any number of alternative methods, it is likely that his polemic is directed against the “Brisker” approach to Talmud study, an approach that will be discussed in the coming paragraphs. There is evidence to support such a contention.

The first piece of evidence is R. Mazuz’s comments on R. Yehiel Ya’akov Weinberg’s critique of R. Chaim Soloveichik’s “Brisker” approach; these comments were posted by Marc Shapiro in The Seforim Blog in the name of an anonymous rosh yeshiva, but they are in fact the comments of R. Mazuz. R. Weinberg accuses R. Chaim of inventing elaborate explanations of the Rambam and the Gemara that do not fit the language of the texts he is interpreting. In contrast, R. Weinberg praises the Vilna Gaon’s more simple analysis as reflecting the true meaning of the text.[3] Upon seeing R. Weinberg’s critique, R. Mazuz responded that Yeshivat Kisse Rahamim uses the method of the Gaon of Vilna [rather than that of R. Chaim]. Thus, it is clear that R. Mazuz was including the Briskerderekh in his critique of methods that, in his mind, failed to arrive at the original intent of the sources. The second piece of evidence is an interview conducted by David Lehmann and Batia Siebzehner. In this interview, R. Tsemah Mazuz (R. Meir Mazuz’s brother mentioned previously) claimed that, until about two hundred years ago, the methods of study used by Ashkenazim and Sephardim were the same. Apparently lacking knowledge of rabbinic texts and the history of rabbinic thought, these interviewers mistakenly suggest the possibility that he was referring to the onset of the Enlightenment. Rather, it is more likely that R. Tsemah Mazuz was referring to the flourishing of Ashkenazi rabbanim such as Aryeh Leib ha-Kohen Heller (d. 1813, often known by the name of his major work, Ketsot ha-Hoshen), Ya’akov Lorberbaum of Lissa (d. 1832, often known by the names of his major works, Netivot ha-Mishpat and Kehillat Ya’akov), and Akiva Eiger (1761-1837), who were pre-cursors to the Brisker school in terms of the type of analysis evident in their works. Third, because the paragraph under discussion functions as a contemporary polemic, R. Mazuz is most likely referring to the popular methods used in yeshivas today; the perception among many analysts is that a large proportion of the yeshiva system has been dominated by the Lithuanian Brisker approach and related methods. For a fuller understanding of R. Mazuz’s polemic, it is necessary to describe the general contours of the Brisker approach as they relate to R. Mazuz’s objections.

While a number of competing formulations exist for explaining the goals and methods of the “Brisker” approach, Norman Solomon’s is the most extensive. According to Solomon, proponents of the “Brisker” or “Analytic” approach [often referred to as “Briskers” in yeshiva circles] seek to understand how various legal concepts that underlie a specific text operate. Consequently, Briskers develop every possible meaning they can think of for each concept within the text under discussion. They then re-read the text based on each of those meanings in order to figure out which understanding best sheds light on the subject. In doing so, they often encounter the contradictory ways in which the local text and alternatives sources seem to use the concept. In order to resolve the contradictions, Briskers create a hakirah, (in this case, the term would best be translated as a “distinction” or “dichotomy”) in which they would argue that one concept can have different facets that express themselves in different situations. Note that, because these distinctions are often based on the contradictory implications of a concept rather than on a textual ambiguity, they do not flow “necessarily” from the text and are often speculative, an issue that is the crux of R. Mazuz’s critique.

Conclusion: The Re-Codification of Iyyun

R. Mazuz’s (re)-codification of Iyyun Tunisai functions as a way to make the method meaningful in the contemporary world. His descriptions of the method therefore lack the widespread use of philosophical terms so common among the original codifiers of Sephardic Iyyun. Instead, they focus on justifying the method through logical argumentation, which this article has already explored, and by reference to the perceived usage of this method by the great rabbis of the past, which lends legitimacy to his project. Even before embarking on his description of the method, R. Mazuz notes that his use of the phrase Iyyun Tunisai does not connote the geographical origin of the method, merely the fact that Tunisian rabbis took pride in perfecting it. He claims that the method was used in all of the classic schools of thought within the Jewish world, starting with the Geonim, moving on to the Tosafotand Rishonim, and lastly, by Maharsha, Rashash, and others, “who excel in the straightness and depth of the[ir] analysis.” Taken literally, this statement is misleading, as it lumps together rabbis with very different approaches to text. While Maharsha, along with many other Polish rabbis of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, did use this method, other commentators such as Tosafot were interested in harmonizing other contradictory texts with the local text through dialectical reasoning rather than focusing on literary issues within the local text – a process not conducive to simple readings of the local text. It is doubtful that R. Mazuz, who is fully familiar with these differences, intends that this statement be taken literally. Rather, the last clause of the sentence, which emphasizes the “straightness” (Heb. yosher) of the commentators’ analysis, is emphasized. The statement is a rhetorical device that situates Iyyun Tunisaiwithin the mainstream of Jewish tradition. By mentioning that great Ashkenazi rabbis, such as Maharsha, used this method, Mazuz legitimizes its usage for Ashkenazi Jews as well, since, by rejecting the Analytic approach in favor of Iyyun Tunisai, Ashkenazi Jews would not be rejecting their own traditions but reclaiming the “Tunisian” tradition as their own, “going back,” as it were, to the “original” Ashkenazi tradition. In fact, other than the name Iyyun Tunisai and occasional mention of the Tunisian/Jerban community and its rabbis, there is no indication within the article that the method uniquely represents the global Sephardic tradition, as none of the early modern and late medieval Sephardic rabbanim, such as Canpanton or Shemu’el ibn-Sid (or Sidilyo or Sirilyo), are ever cited. Despite the fact that previous sections of this article have proven the method’s Sephardic roots and its historical uniqueness, most of the rabbis cited in R. Mazuz’s essay are well-known, “classical” Ashkenazi and Sephardic/Jerban rabbis.

R. Tsemah Mazuz’s claim that, until about two hundred years ago, the methods of Talmud study used by Ashkenazim and Sephardim were identical should be analyzed more fully. One controversial hallmark of the “Analytic/Brisker” approach was the rejection of most of the later Ashkenazi rabbis such as Maharsha, whose commentary, which often elucidates difficult passages in Tosafot, had been an essential part of the yeshiva curriculum in Ashkenazi lands. Instead, the “Analytic” school favored independent analysis of the classical Rishonim, especially Rambam’s Mishneh Torah, and rejected previous traditional methods of interpretation, and it was this rejection that was the subject of severe censure by critics within the Ashkenazi world. By showcasing the role of tradition in his argument for the revival of Iyyun Tunisai, R. Mazuz taps into this already ongoing debate and reveals that he is not fighting for the supremacy of the Tunisian Method merely within the Sephardic world, but within the yeshiva world in general. The revival of his method is therefore not a separatist attempt to preserve his own tradition (though it certainly encompasses that element) but a hegemonic approach that seeks to influence the entire religious world. R. Mazuz’s fight should therefore not only be analyzed “vertically,” as an expression of a line of Sephardic tradition, but also “horizontally,” as one battle in an ongoing war against Brisk that dates back to the early years of the movement’s spread. This war has intensified in recent years, which have seen the supremacy of the “Analytic” method challenged by a number of alternative approaches. Therefore, the revival of the Tunisian method is a reflection of current socio-ideological developments within the broader Orthodox world.

The question, then, is what the prospects for Iyyun Tunisai and other similar methodologies may be. On the one hand, one might argue that, in order to successfully compete with Brisk, Iyyun Tunisai would need to allow for a certain amount of legal conceptualization inherent within the Analytic methodology, since such conceptualization captures the imagination of specific types of students who are attracted to Brisk. While questions focused on syntax and sentence structure would be too “basic” for such conceptualization, questions focused on turns of phrase and flow of text can more easily lend themselves to further conceptualization.

On the other hand, Iyyun Tunisaican serve as an alternative to the “Analytic” school precisely because it takes literary and historical elements into account, elements that are often ignored within the “Brisker” method. Iyyun Tunisai is ideal for those who want to develop textual skills, and its focus on basic grammatical and syntactic analysis will attract students who feel, as R. Mazuz does, that these elements should be studied before embarking on further analysis. Advanced students who are sensitive to literary structure and grammatical ambiguity will find meaning in the types of questions that Iyyun Tunisai encourages, questions that deal with unusual turns of phrase and that try to connect the different elements of the text. Critics of the Analytic School’s often a-historical approach to text would be pleased with R. Mazuz’s focus on close textual readings and critical analysis. Speaking of the original Iyyun ha-Sefaradi, Daniel Boyarin comments, “It is possible to say that, until the Historical-Philological School of later generations, there did not arise in Israel another house of study that applied with such scope the contemporary general scientific method to analysis of the Talmud.” While this claim may have held true then, strict modern-day historians hoping for a full academic approach would not agree with other assumptions upon which the method is based, most notably the assumption that the Talmudic sages and early commentators foresaw all possible alternate interpretations and rejected them. Yet this non-critical element is precisely the method’s strength. Most students in yeshivas would not be comfortable assuming that an Amora or Rishon should not be given the benefit of the doubt, and would likely view academic interpretations of a sugya as just as speculative as the very explanations that the academic approach purports to “correct.” Iyyun Tunisai strikes a balance between an overly-critical approach, which would undermine the legitimacy of the text under discussion, and an approach that is not self-critical enough to be able to discern between likely and forced interpretations. It is this balance that allows ha-Iyyun ha-Yashar to serve as an alternative to other methods of study current in the yeshiva world.

[1] In memory of my mother, פעריל מאשא בת יעקב ורבקה יענטע, זכרונה לברכה.

[2] Hebrew pun: dak al dak ad ein nivdak.

[3] The relevant parts of the letter also appear in ibid. “Some Assorted Comments and a Selection from my Memoir, part 1,” The Seforim Blog, Oct. 25, 2009.

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Some Notes on Censorship of Hebrew Books

February 12, 2014, 8:04 pm

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Some Notes on Censorship of Hebrew Books

by Norman Roth

Habent sua fata libelli(Books have their fate)

One of the tragedies of the Inquisition and the Expulsions – both from Spain and Portugal– which has received very little attention is the destruction and loss of Hebrew manuscripts and books. Since the printing of Hebrew books in Spain began many years before the Expulsion, this loss involved printed books as well as manuscripts. Indeed, due to these losses, since only fragments survive of some of the earliest examples of Hebrew printing in Spain it may be impossible to ever know with certainty when this printing actually began. [1]

The edict of Expulsion (1492) caught the Jews of Spain completely by surprise.Even though extensions were granted, it was not always possible to arrange for the transport of books, perhaps especially for the several thousand Jews of northern Castile who had to make their way on foot across the border into Portugal. [2] Many of the Jewish exiles of 1492 returned from Portugal and North Africa in that year and in 1493, as well as later years, to be baptized and live again in Spain. Fernando and Isabel permitted these conversosto keep Hebrew and Arabic books as long as they were not about the Jewish law or glosses and commentaries to the Bible, or, specifically mentioned, the Talmud or prayer books. A Jew of Borja who returned after the Expulsion and converted to Christianity reported that aJewish cofradía (religious brotherhood) of that town had left 55 books valued at 4,000 jaqueses, but he wanted no part of the books because he had converted.[3]

Portugal

Isaac Ibn Faraj, one of the exiles from Portugal, reported that the king had ordered that all the books which the Jews had brought with them from Spain were to be collected and burned. Nonetheless, not all books were, in fact, burned. Another source reveals that long after the Jews were expelled from Portugal, the king of Morocco sent Jewish delegates there, one of whom was a qabalist who asked permission to see a famous biblical manuscript brought by the Jews from Spain, and this manuscript was among the books seized by the king and kept in a “synagogue filled with books.”[4]

Levi Ibn Shem Tov and his two brothers, apparently the great-grandsons of the Spanish qabalist Shem Tov b. Joseph (not, as usually stated, Shem Tov b. Shem Tov), advised King Manoel to seize all the Jewish books. Their intention had also been to burn the Sefer ha-emunot of their great-grandfather, because of his criticism of Maimonides, but they became afraid because of an order of the king not to burn any Jewish books, and therefore they hid the book in a synagogue in Lisbon. When the Jews were expelled from Portugal, those Jews who had been appointed by the king to search out and seize all books discovered this hidden manuscript and brought it, along with portions of the yet-unpublished Zohar, to Turkey (these men were Moses Zarco, Isaac Barjilun, Moses Mindeh [?], and apparently Solomon Ibn Verga, author of the semi-fictitious chronicle Shevet Yehudah). This undeniably accurate testimony appears to contradict the eyewitness account of Ibn Faraj mentioned earlier. Either he was confused, or else the king issued contradictory orders at different times.[5]

Italy

In 1533 the Talmud was, once again, condemned to the flames in Italy, and with it also legal codes or summaries derived from the Talmud. As in Spain and Portugal, censorship of all Jewish books was under the jurisdiction of the Inquisition. In 1568 a second, more sweeping, destruction of Hebrew books was carried out. Not only Jews, but even Christians, who dared to print such prohibited Hebrew books were subject to punishment, such as exile in the case of Jews, or loss of license in the case of Christians. Rabbi Judah Lerma, perhaps the first Sefardic author who so declared himself, proudly, on the title page of his book, published his Lehem Yehudah, a commentary on Avot, in Sabionetta (1554).

In his introduction to the work, printed by Tuviah Foa, he states he had already had it printed in the previous year, but the decree consigning to the flames the Talmud and Jacob Ibn Habib’s famous anthology of the talmudic agadahhad also caught his work, as well as the laws of Isaac al-Fasi, and the entire edition of 1500 copies of his book (a very large printing for the time) was burned. (Later he was able to purchase, at great cost, one copy which had been saved by Gentiles; if that copy had survived until today it would certainly be the rarest Hebrew book in the world.)

David Conforte (1618-1685) also briefly cited this introduction, noting that his maternal grandfather Yequtiel Azuz, a grammarian and qabalist who lived in Italy, lost his own copy of the Talmud in the burning which took place in the same year. Ironically, a later Judah Lerma, a rabbi in Belgrade, an apparent descendant of Judah Lerma, also lost most of the edition of his own responsa in a fire in that city (ca.1650), but at least that was a natural disaster. [6]

Shortly after the burning of the Talmud, Rabbi Samuel de Medina of Salonica,who already had news of the event, wrote that because of this, and the general religious persecution taking place in Italy, any Jew who remains there “without doubt shows no fear for his soul or his Torah,” for were it not so how would a Jew dare remain there? Furthermore, he wrote, it is impossible even to study Torah (Talmud) in Italy. Therefore, all Italian Jews should come to the Ottoman empire to live, since “the soul and body and also possessions are immeasurably safer in this kingdom.”[7]

Marranos and Censorship

In addition to this loss of manuscripts and books, the invention of printing brought with it a new fear, that of censorship. Much has been written about the censorship of Hebrew books at the hands of Christians, but less known is the “internal” censorship practiced particularly by “Marranos,” or descendants of those who converted to Christianity and then decided to become Jews. They often brought with them the inherited Catholic condemnation of people (excommunication, as in the case of Spinoza) and of books which they judged to be offensive.

Amsterdam. Some descendants of Portuguese Jews who had converted to Christianity eventually fledto Italy, where they decided to go to Amsterdam and convert to Judaism. One of the most famous of these was Miguel (Daniel Levi) de Barrios (1635-1701), who was one of the greatest literary figures of the time. He was publicly condemned for visiting “a land of idolatry” (Spain, or Portugal?) and for public profanation of the Sabbath. The publication of his allegorical masterpiece Coro de las musas (1672) was immediately condemned by the Mahamad(official council of the Jewish community). Even more serious was the reaction to his next work, Harmonia del mundo (1674), which was prohibited altogether and was denounced by the famous Rabbi Jacob Sasportas (who led the campaign against Shabetai Sevi) as “converting our Torah into a profane book, making of it a poetic version.” In 1690 his Arbol de vidas [sic; the error is perhaps due to an unconscious influence of the Hebrew plural hayim, “life”) appeared and was also immediately condemned, or more specifically the “conclusions” he appended to it were condemned. The Mahamad prohibited anyone possessing, selling or giving a copy of it to any other Jew on pain of excommunication. Finally, in 1697 he was again condemned for writing a letter to the magistrate of Hamburg which the Mahamad considered potentially injurious to the “Nation” (the community). Thus did the “Nation” honor one of its greatest writers. [8]

Germany. Already in the latter part of the sixteenth century we find mention of some few Portuguese “new Christian” merchants in Germany. One of the most important cities where these “Marranos” settled was Hamburg. In 1612 a five-year contract was made by the Senate of Hamburg with the “Portuguese Nation” (the Marranos) granting them freedom of trade and residence, but stipulating that no synagogue was to be maintained nor were they to “offend” the Christian religion. They could bury their dead in Altona or wherever they chose. The population was not to exceed 150 individuals. In 1617 the original contract with the Senate was renewed for another five years, in return for a payment of 2,000 marks, and again in 1623.[9]

Having grown up and been educated in such an atmosphere of fear and intimidation in Portugal, it is perhaps not surprising that Marranos, new converts to Judaism, applied hardly less intolerant measures of censorship within their own communities. For example, the “offensive” books of Manuel de Pina (a Jew) were ordered burned by the Sefardic communities of Amsterdam and of Hamburg (1656). In 1666 the Mahamadof Hamburg ordered copies of Moses Gideon Abudiente’s book Fin de los dias (“End of days”) sealed and locked in the community safe “until the time for which we hope arrives;” i.e., until the “end of days”! Furthermore, it was decided to impose a fine on any member of the community who kept a book which did not have the “Imprimatur” (!) of the Mahamad.[10]

England. In 1664 the Saar Asamaim (Sha ar ha-Shamayim) synagogue enacted the Escamot or Acuerdos adapted from those of Amsterdam. In turn, these ordinances were adopted by the communities of Recife (Brazil), Curaçao and New Amsterdam (New York). These enactments included a prohibition on the printing of books in Hebrew, Ladino, or any other language without the approval of the Mahamad.[11]

Italy. Fear of the Inquisition and of general problems which could be caused by negative references to Spain led to Jewish censorship even of the liturgy. Thus, the Sefardic mahzorprinted in Venice in 1519 (second edition in 1524) already omitted the Spanish Hebrew lamentations referring to the attacks on the Jewish communities in 1391;[12] nor was any reference to the Expulsion permitted. In a prayer book, Imrey Na’im, published probably by Menasseh b. Israel (Amsterdam, 1628-30), appeared a poem which seems to be a general lamentation on Jewish suffering, but which Bernstein has shown is found in its original form in the prayer book for fasts, Arba’ah Ta’aniyot, printed in Venice in 1671, when there was no longer fear of an Inquisition. There, in fact, the prayer is a lamentation on the Expulsion.[13]

No doubt there are other examples of Jewish “self-censorship” in this period, but

it is hoped that this brief introduction will serve to arouse interest in the topic.

Notes

1.For information on early printing, and fragments of talmudic tractates, in Spain and Portugal, see my Dictionary of Iberian Jewish and Converso Authors (Madrid, Salamanca, 2007), pp. 39-40 (Nos. 35-37), pp. 56-58 (Nos. 86-101. The second edition of the Torah commentary of Moses b. Nahman (“Nahmanides”) was also printed at Lisbon, 1489.

2. On censorship of Hebrew books in Spain already before the Inquisition, books owned by

conversos, etc., see my Conversos, Inquisition, and the Expulsion of the Jews from Spain

(Madison, University of Wisconsin Press, 1995; revised and updated paper ed., 2002), index; seeespecially p. 103, Jews called upon to examine Heb. books owned by conversos, and p. 242.

3. Miguel Angel Motis Dolader, Expulsión de los judíos del reino de Aragón (Zaragoza, 1990), vol. 2, pp. 338-39.

4. Elijah Capsali, Seder Eliyahu zuta, ed. Aryeh Shmuelevitz, Shlomo Simonsohn, and MeirBenayahu (Jerusalem, 1975-83), vol.1, p. 238.

5. Text edited from Ms. by Meir Benayahu in Sefunot 11 [1971-78]: 261, and cf. there p. 234 onLevi Ibn Shem Tov, and p. 246 on Isaac Barjilun, or Barceloni. He and Moses Zarco may havebeen the important tailors in Portugal, the former the court tailor of João II, mentioned in Maria Jose Pimenta Ferres Tavares, Os judeus em Portugal no século XV (Lisbon,1982-84) vol. 1, pp. 156, 252, 361 and 301. On the Jewish official Judas Barceloni at that time, see ibid. vol. 2, p. 669.

6. See Abraham Yaari, Meqahrei sefer (Jerusalem, 1958), p. 360, citing the full introduction of Judah Lerma’s commentary; Conforte, Qore ha-dorot (Berlin, 1846; photo rpt. Jerusalem, 1969), pp. 40b and 51b. As have virtually all scholars, Yaari ignored Conforte, and therefore did not mention the second Judah Lerma in his own discussion of books lost in fires (p. 47 ff.).

7. She’elot u-teshuvot, hoshen mishpat (Salonica, 1595), No. 303; cited in Meir Benayahu, ha-Yahasim she-vein yehudei Yavan le-yehudei Italiah (Tel-Aviv, 1980), pp. 93-94 (my translation);see there also for other important material relating to this and to censorship, pp. 95-97.

8. See the excerpt of Arbol de la vida in Barrios, Poesía religiosa, ed. Kenneth R. Scholberg (Madrid [Ohio State University Press], s.a. [1962]), p. 99.

9. Alfredo Cassuto, “Contribução para a história dos judeus portugueses em Hamburg,” Biblos (Coimbra University) 9 (1933): 661; see also Hermann Kellenbenz, Sephardim an der unterenElbe (Wiesbaden, 1958 [ Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtsschaftsgeschichte No. 40] ),pp. 31-32.

10. “Protocols” (of the Sefardic of Hamburg); summarized in Jahrbuch der jüdisch- literarischen Gesellschaft 6 (1909); 7 (1909); 10 (1915); 11 (1916); see 7: 183; 11: 27-28.

11. Miriam Bodian, “The Escamot of the Spanish-Portuguese Jewish Community of London, 1664,” Michael 9 (1985): 23-24, No. 30 (text; in [barbaric] Spanish). Earlier editions and studies are Lionel Barnett, ed., El libro de acuerdos (Oxford, 1931), and N. Laski, The Laws and

Charities of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews’ Congregation of London (1952).

12. For these, see the translations in the journal Iberia Judaica 3 (2011): 77-113.

13. Simon Bernstein, ed. #Al naharot Sefarad (Tel-Aviv, 1956), pp. 23, 25, 26-28.

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Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger and Warder Cresson

February 16, 2014, 11:53 am

≫ Next: The Vilna Gaon, part 3 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius) by Marc B. Shapiro

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Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger and Warder Cresson

by Yirmiya Milevsky

Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger (1798 –1871) was a German rabbi and author, and one of the great leaders of Orthodox Judaism. He was born at Karlsruhe and died in Altona. He studied under Rabbi Abraham Bing in Würzburg, where he also attended the university. Because of his well-known greatness as a Torah scholar, questions were sent to him from across the globe. The following question relates to a story that occurred in Jerusalem.

According to Jewish Law, there is a list of activities that are prohibited on the Jewish Sabbath. Although resting on the Sabbath is one of the most important commandments for a Jew, the Talmud tells us that a Gentile is actually forbidden from resting on the Sabbath, and must perform one of the “prohibited” actions to be considered a righteous gentile. The following is the question presented to Rabbi Ettlinger with regard to this issue. (Responsa Binyan Tzion 91)

שו"ת בנין ציון סימן צא

ב"ה אלטאנא, יום ו'כ"ו אייר תר"ט לפ"ק. להרה"ג וכו'מ"ה אשר לעמיל נ"י הגאב"ד דק"ק גאלין וכעת משכן כבודו בירושלם עיה"ק תוב"ב.

כתב מעכ"ת נ"י וז"ל - ילמדנו רבינו בעובדא דאתא לידן פעה"ק ירושלם ת"ו יום ג'כ"ג לירח אדר שני שנת תר"ח העבר לפ"ק נימול א"י אחד שבא הנה ממדינת מאראקא לשם גירות בפנינו בד"צ דקהל אשכנזים הי"ו וקיבל עליו המצות כדין וכדתה"ק ובש"ק שלאחריו עדן /עדין/ לא היה נתרפא ממילתו ולא טבל עודנה הגידו לי לאמר מזריזתו במצות איך הוא נזהר בשביתת שבת הגם שהוא עודנה /עודנו/ בכלל חולה שאב"ס =שאין בו סכנה= אינו מניח לגוי להבעיר אש בביתו והשבתי להם לדעתי לא מבעי'שמותר לו לעשות מלאכה בשבת אלא אפילו מחויב ומוזהר על יום ולילה לא ישבותו וחייב לעשות מלאכה בשבת כ"ז שלא טבל לשם גירות וכה עשו השומעים למשמעתי והלכו אצל הגר והגידו לו בשמי כן בש"ק לאחר תפלת המנחה וכן עשה כי כתב איזה אותיות ויהי ביום המחרת כאשר נשמע הדבר בעה"ק ת"ו פה צווחו עלי חכמי ספרד וחכמי אשכנזים הי"ו על דבר חדש הלזו אשר לא נשמע מעולם אחרי שכבר קבל עליו כל המצות בשעת מילה וכבר נימול ועומד ומצפה בכל יום לטבול לכשיתרפא שיהי'מותר לו לחלל וכש"כ שיהי'עליו חיובא ומצוה לחלל ש"ק והמה זוכרים כמה גרים שנימולו פעה"ק ת"ו ולא נשמע כזאת ומנין לי לחדש דבר אשר לא שערום הראשונים והשבתי להם אולי מקום הניחו לי להתגדר בו

“Here in Jerusalem on Tuesday the twenty third day of the month of Adar Sheni of the year (5)608, a non Jew came from Morocco and was circumcised for the sake of conversion, and accepted all the mitzvoth. On the following Shabbat, he had not fully recovered from the circumcision and thus not entered the Mikvah (ritual bath to finalize the conversion). A rabbi was informed that the convert is very careful in his observance of the Sabbath. However another rabbi claimed that due to the fact that he did not yet enter the Mikvah he must not observe the Sabbath and must perform one of the prohibited acts. It was late in the day and the convert was told what he must do. Consequently he violated the Sabbath by writing a few letters. After the Sabbath when the Rabbis in town heard of the ruling they disagreed claiming that after circumcision he is considered a Jew and must not violate the Sabbath.”

While reading about this out of the ordinary situation, that produce a vast amount of Halachic literature,[1] a question may arise in our minds: What brought this Moroccan to Jerusalem and what prevented him from converting in his homeland where a very significant Jewish population and rabbinic court was present?

**********************

Some time ago I came across an article by Frank Fox, entitled "Quaker, Shaker, Rabbi: Warder Cresson, the Story of a Philadelphia Mystic." Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 95, no. 2 (April 1971): 147-194 Philadelphia.(Unless otherwise indicated all information and quotes are from the article.)

The narrative follows the unorthodox journey of Cresson. Born in 1798 and grew up following the habits of the Quaker elders.

Warder displayed a mind immersed in Scriptures. In 1829, Cresson wrote a condemnation on the "Babylon" of Pennsylvania, attacking wealth and social distinction. "It will certainly be admitted," he began, "that all the misery and troubles that afflict the human family arise aspiring from ...selfishness." The lack of true religion, he wrote, a faith that ought to be expressed through self-denial and universal love, had brought about tyrannies and caused slavery and bloodshed.

Cresson became familiar with a Jewish leader in Philadelphia, Rabbi Isaac Leeser, a pioneer of the Jewish pulpit in the United States. Leeser, the minister of Congregation Mikveh Israel since 1829, was using his pulpit to educate and to revive the deteriorating communal and religious organizations.

Another contemporary, whose views affected Cresson, was Mordecai M. Noah, who addressed Christian and Jewish audiences in New York and Philadelphia in the early 1840s and urged a return to Zion as the only solution to the Jewish problem of persecution. In 1825, he attempted to establish “Ararat", a city of refuge for the Jewish people on Grand Island in the Niagara River.

In 1844, Cresson decided to go to Washington and to apply for the position of the first American Consul to Jerusalem. by May 17, was officially notified of his appointment. His appointment was rescinded within a short time. Nevertheless Cresson made his way to Jerusalem.

After his arrival Cresson wrote critically of the high salaries paid to the missionaries who lived "in the very best houses, bought most splendid Arabian horses and dressed in the most luxurious and stylish manner." As for their practical work, he wrote that, "To further their imposing and enterprising object they built a church which has cost them more than $150,000; then a hospital and Dispensary, sent physicians from England, set up an institution of Industry and also a college and schools, all to entrap and instruct the poor, dirty, oily, greasy, starving Jews and to tempt and provide them with good livings, fine English clothing, upon the only one condition that they will give their names and use all their influence to support and promote the interest of their Society for introducing and establishing Sawdust instead of Good Old Cheese, amongst the poor Jews in Jerusalem and Palestine." According to Cresson, the missionaries failed to get a single Jew to apostatize.

In 1847, Cresson began writing, “The Key of David the True Messiah”, in which he began his journey towards Judaism. Finally, after denying the divinity of Jesus, Cresson was ready for the final step of his spiritual journey. He writes, "I remained in Jerusalem in my former faith until the 28th day of March, 1848," he wrote, "when I became fully satisfied that I could never obtain Strength and Rest, but by doing as Ruth did, and saying to her Mother-in-Law, or Naomi 'Entreat me not to leave thee for whither thou goest I will go'... In short, upon the 28th day of March, 1848, I was circumcised, entered the Holy Covenant and became a Jew.”

Cresson- or Michoel Boaz Yisroel ben Avraham- returned to the United States for a few years. Upon his return to Jerusalem in 1852 he married a Sephardic woman named Rachel Moledano. Cresson died in 1865 and was buried on Mount Olives.

Many aspects of his life are quite intriguing and fascinating. However one detail provides the answer for the mystery regarding the “Moroccan” convert in Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger’s response. Cresson identifies the date of his conversion, The 28th of March 1848 - the day Warder Cresson became Michael Boaz Yisrael - corresponds to the 23rd of Adar Sheini in the Jewish year (5)608. In other words, the conversions occurred on the same day! The response indicates that conversions in Jerusalem were pretty unusual,(והמה זוכרים כמה גרים שנימולו פעה"ק ת"ו- And they recall conversions from the past…) making it difficult to believe that there were two conversions on that specific day.

Consequently, I believe that the non Jew in Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger’s response did not come from Morocco but rather from America. In Hebrew, the spelling of America can be easily mistaken for Morocco ("מאראקא"). Cresson indeed came to Jerusalem "for the sake of conversion”.

************************************

[1] The question is addressed by several Halachak authorities; See

Divrei Yosef Rabbi Yosef Schwartz 24(First hand knowledge of the incident) : Rabbi Abraham Bornstein; Avnei Nezer, Yoreh Deah 351: Rabbi Yeshua Shimon Chaim Ovadyah; Yismach Levav, Yoreh Deah 33: Aryeh Leib Frumkin in his Toldot Chachmei Yerushalayim mentioned as well the Halachik dispute regarding the Ger from “Morocco.”

http://hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=36973&st=&pgnum=640

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The Vilna Gaon, part 3 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius) by Marc B. Shapiro

February 23, 2014, 2:33 pm

≫ Next: The Netziv, Reading Newspapers on Shabbos, in general & Censorship (part one)*

≪ Previous: Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger and Warder Cresson

The Vilna Gaon, part 3 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)

by Marc B. Shapiro

In honor of Sean Penn and Mark Wahlberg, who understand what pidyon shevuyim is all about.

Continued from here.

Returning to R. Sternbuch’s Ta’am ve-Da’at, vol. 1, earlier in this book, p. 88, we find the following passage.

שמעתי ממרן הגריז"ס זצ"ל (הגאב"ד דבריסק) שאברהם אבינו לא היה עצבני וחושש ומפחד שהולך לשחוט בנו יחידו, אלא היה לו הלילה שלפני העקדה ככל הלילות, ולא נתרגש מצווי זה וקם בבוקר לקיים המצוה כשם שמקיימים כל מצוה, והשכים כזריזין שמקדימים למצוות, ושש ושמח לקיים מצות בוראו

According to R. Velvel Soloveitchik, Abraham was not emotionally affected by the command to sacrifice Isaac, and on the night before he was to go to Mt. Moriah he slept as well as on any other night. He approached this commandment like any other commandment, and was ready to do it with joy. It is hardly an accident that the Abraham described by R. Velvel very much resembles R. Velvel himself. See also my earlier post here. [1]

Yet doesn’t R. Velvel’s understanding conflict with the notion that the Akedah was a test or trial? What kind of test was it if Abraham related to this command just like any other?

The Gaon is quoted as having a different perspective on the Akedah.[2] According to him, since Abraham was engaged in acts of loving kindness all the time, this commandment was designed to develop in him the attribute of cruelty, which is also required at times.

וז"ש כאן בעקידה עתה ידעתי כי ירא אלקים אתה, לפי שקודם לכן לא היה אלא רחמן מאד שהיה מכניס אורחים וגומל חסדים. אבל המדה של אכזריות ולכוף א"ע ולקיים מצות הבורא ית'עדיין לא היה ניכר בו והיו יכולים לומר שאברהם איננו צדיק גמור ח"ו. אבל בעקידה שעשה ג"כ מדת אכזריות שרצה בכל אות נפשו לקיים מצות הבורא ולשחוט את בנו יחידו אשר בו תלוי כל חיותו א"כ עתה נשלם וניכר שהוא צדיק גמור

The Gaon connects this to the commandment to send away the mother bird before taking the eggs. In the Guide 3:48, Maimonides understands this as designed to avoid cruelty to the mother bird. However, the Gaon has the exact opposite interpretation. He assumes that sending away the mother is very cruel, and that is the entire point of the commandment. He points out that in only two commandments does the Torah promise long life. One is respect for parents, which is about compassion. The other is sending away the mother bird, which is about cruelty, The complete personality, i.e., the tzaddik, needs to have both of these characteristics.

לפי שאין השלימות ניכר באדם אלא כשיש לו מדות הפוכות, כגון מדת רחמנות ואכזרות

As the Gaon explains, if someone had only one of these characteristics, you could say that this was just his nature. However, when you see in the same person the opposite characteristics of compassion and currently, applied at different times, this shows that the person is a tzaddik. This also explains why God gave commandments that are characterized by compassion as well as commandments that cause one to act with cruelty.

(R. Moses Cordovero writes that "kindness is not valued in an individual who is naturally kind, only in a person who overcomes his inclination to act contrary [to the dictates of kindness]." See Or Yakar, Hayyei Sarah, p. 110, translation in Paul B. Fenton, "The Banished Brother: Islam in Jewish Thought and Faith," in Alon-Goshen-Gottstein and Eugene Korn, eds. Jewish Theology and World Religions [Oxford, 2012], p. 251.)

Directly before this explanation in Divrei Eliyahu, the Gaon discusses God’s commandment to Abraham to circumcise himself and every newborn boy. According to the Gaon, Abraham was in doubt whether he should fulfill the commandment, since the requirement of such a practice would discourage the pagans from conversion. He thought that perhaps it would be better for him to disobey God’s command, and give up his heavenly reward, in order to increase believers in the world.

נתיירא אאע"ה שמא עי"ז לא ימשכו אחריו הבאים להתגייר ונוח היה לו להפסיד לעצמו משכרו הטוב ורק לקבץ מאמינים בעולם

Not knowing what to do, Abraham consulted with Amar, Eshkol, and Mamre, and the first two advised not doing the circumcision, but Mamre advised him to listen to God and that is what he did.

This is a development of an older theme that appears in a number of midrashim and is alluded to in Rashi, Genesis 18:1. According to these sources, Abraham was indeed unsure whether to listen to God, but none of the midrashim offer a reason for Abraham’s hesitation. [3] The midrashic notion that Abraham hesitated over following God’s command is quite startling, and many commentators deal with it in all sorts of creative ways.[4] The Gaon softens the difficulty somewhat by explaining that Abraham was not in doubt regarding whether to follow God’s command because he was afraid of the procedure, but his motivation was much more exalted. Yet the Gaon’s explanation is somewhat difficult because the midrashim have Mamre convincing Abraham to do the procedure by reminding him how God saved him from the fiery furnace or how in general God has always watched over him, and there is thus no justification for ignoring His command. This implies that Abraham’s reason for hesitation was fear over the operation rather than concern that his proselytizing efforts would suffer.

I would love to know what R. Velvel would say about these midrashim, which show Abraham in a very different light than the way he describes the Patriarch.

Finally, let me mention a story famous in Habad and recorded by the Lubavitcher Rebbe in various places. It shows an attitude entirely at odds with the sort of piety we saw in the last post. Here is a selection from the Rebbe’s letter in Iggerot Kodesh, vol. 22, no. 8558 (p. 366). The translation is taken from here.

The Alter Rebbe shared his house with his oldest married son, Rabbi Dov Ber (who later succeeded him as the Mitteler Rebbe). Rabbi Dov Ber was known for his unusual power of concentration. Once, when Rabbi Dov Ber was engrossed in learning, his baby, sleeping in its cradle nearby, fell out and began to cry. The infant’s father did not hear the baby’s cries. But the infant’s grandfather, the Alter Rebbe, also engrossed in his studies in his room on the upper floor at the time, most certainly did. He interrupted his studies, went downstairs, picked the baby up, soothed it and replaced it in its cradle. Through all this Rabbi Dov Ber remained quite oblivious.

Subsequently, the Alter Rebbe admonished his son: “No matter how engrossed one may be in the loftiest occupation, one must never remain insensitive to the cry of a child.”[5]

In the last post I showed examples of removing material from the English translation of a Hebrew book, so as not to scandalize the English reader. Here is another example. The Hebrew text comes from Shimon Yosef Meller’s biography of R. Velvel Soloveitchik, Ha-Rav mi-Brisk (Jerusalem, 2006), vol. 2, pp. 546-547. I previously mentioned this passage here.

Here is the relevant page in the translation, The Brisker Rav (Jerusalem, 2009), vol. 2, p. 573, and you can see that the story I am referring to has been removed.

For another story about vomiting, see the following passage which comes from the introduction of the Gaon’s sons to his commentary on the Shulhan Arukh.

Here is a similar story recorded about R. Yisrael Salanter.[6]

Whether these stories actually happened is not important. What is important is that they were regarded as examples of piety in those days, while today if someone would act this way people would feel revulsion. In fact, since people had such a different response years ago, there is no need to assume that the stories did not happen simply because today the stories seem impossible. When it comes to what people regard as appropriate, one sees enormous changes between generations and cultures. An obvious example is the matter of homosexuality. While a century ago this was pretty much universally regarded as repulsive, among today's younger generation of college educated people you would be hard pressed to find anyone to say this (as I can attest from interactions with hundreds of college-age students). Even among the halakhically observant, i.e., those who accept the prohibition on homosexuality, many do not regard it as inherently repulsive.

When it comes to The Brisker Rav, I have to confess that I was also certain that another passage would be removed, and it was not. I have in mind vol. 3, p. 428 n. 19 (the last paragraph).[7]

P. 140: Stern cites a comment that appears on every other page in R. Israel Salanter’s journal Tevunah:

All laws concerning monetary transactions have absolutely no practical authority. For we follow the law of the land. And this is the meaning of the great principle of “the law of the land is final.” We study, analyze, and debate monetary topics in the same way in which we study the laws of donations to the temple, tithes, sacrifices and purities, which are not practiced today. They are discussed only in terms of fulfilling our duty to study the Torah.

Upon this, Stern remarks, “While one cannot discount the pressures of governmental censorship that may have contributed to this position, still it marks an important development in rabbinic history. As Elchanan Reiner correctly notes, ‘Diverting attention from the actual ruling to the text itself, namely to the very practice of interpretation, constitutes a dramatic shift in the history of knowledge.’”

I don’t accept this at all. There is no question that the words quoted from Tevunah were directed towards non-Jewish governmental authorities, if not in Germany (where the journal was published), certainly in Russia, where the journal would find its major readership. How is this an important development, and how does it relate to Reiner’s point (made in an entirely different context) when every Jew who read these words understood that that they were not to be taken seriously, any more than the passages on the second page of many rabbinic books stating that all references to non-Jews only refer to pagans in places like China and India?

Let me make just a few more comments about the Gaon. Some people refer to him as Rabbi Elijah Kramer. When I first saw this name a number of years ago, I didn’t know who was being referred to since I had never heard of any Elijah Kramer. The first reference in print to Elijah Kramer (or Kremer) that I have been able to discover is Maurice Samuel’s 1963 book, Little Did I Know, p. 257. (If anyone is aware of an earlier reference, please let me know) The name was later made popular after appearing in the title of Yaacov Dovid Shulman’s 1994 book, The Vilna Gaon: The Story of Rabbi Eliyahu Kramer.[8]

If this post does nothing else, I hope it puts an end to this mistaken practice. The Vilna Gaon was not named Kramer! He was descended from someone named R. Moses Kramer (his great-great grandfather), but the Gaon never used this name and no one ever used it about him, so it is a mistake to call him this.[9] See also note 1 in S.’s post here.

The mistake of referring to the Gaon as Kramer appears in a 2012 book by Rabbis Berel Wein and Warren Goldstein, The Legacy: Teachings for Life from the Great Lithuanian Rabbis, p. 130. The particular chapter I refer to was written by Wein, and on the same page that he mentions Kramer he refers to the Gaon’s foremost student as “Rabbi Chaim Rabinowitz”. As far as I know, this is the first time R. Chaim of Volozhin has been given the last name Rabinowitz, and I have no idea what led Wein to write this. Perhaps there was some confusion between R. Chaim of Volozhin and R. Chaim Rabinowitz of Telz.

This book (which I do recommend) has an approbation by R. Shmuel Kamenetsky in which he writes that “everything in it is true.” I am inclined to think that R. Kamenetsky was only referring to the larger issues discussed in the book rather than attesting to the accuracy of every fact. There is an old saying

כשם שאין בר בלא תבן כך אין ספר ללא טעויות

We can update this saying by adding the word “blog post” after the word “sefer”.

Bezalel Naor has published the following letter he wrote to Elliot Wolfson.

Have you read the new book by Eliyahu Stern, The Genius: Elijah of Vilna and the Making of Modern Judaism (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2013)? In a lengthy endnote on pp. 196-198 (note 19), Stern polemicizes against your reading of the Vilna Gaon’s interpretation of “sefer ve-sefer ve-sippur” (Sefer Yetsirah 1:1). Stern refers to your essay “From Sealed Book to Open Text: Time, Memory, and Narrativity in Kabbalistic Hermeneutics,” Interpreting Judaism in a Postmodern Age, ed. Steven Kepnes (New York: New York University Press, 1996), pp. 145-178, especially footnote 14.

Not wishing to rely on memory alone, I consulted the beginning of the Bi’ur ha-GRA le-Sifra di-Tseni’uta:

Sifra–A book (sefer) is the revelation of the thought, for the thought is closed within man and is revealed only by his speech or by his writing. And so En Sof was revealed, and created the world for [the purpose of] revelation and to make Himself known, as it says in the Zohar, and so the tikkunim that are explained in the continuation [of Sifra di-Tseni'uta] also [come about] through these two things, as it says in Sefer Yetsirah (The Book of Creation), “and [He] created His world with book, book and narrative (sefer ve-sefer ve-sippur). The matter of the two books and [single] narrative is due to the fact that in speech, at one stroke his thought is revealed, whereas in a book it takes two times: once when he writes and his thought is revealed in the world, but the book is yet closed; and a second time when the book is read and then revealed. But in speech, both are included at one time.” (Elijah of Vilna, Bi’ur ha-GRA le-Sifra di-Tseni’uta, ed. Bezalel Naor [Jerusalem, 1997], 1a)

Elliot, your understanding of the passage is sound. On the other hand, Stern’s translation of the first term ”sefer” (which he is forced to revocalize “sefar”) as “mathematics,” would appear to be without foundation. As for the revocalization from sefer to sefar, Stern has drawn on Yosef Avivi, whom he cites. (See Yosef Avivi, Kabbalat ha-GRA [Jerusalem: Kerem Eliyahu, 1993], pp. 32-35.) Yet even Avivi did not have the audacity to inject into the Gaon’s commentary the concept of “mathematics.” This mathematicization of Elijah’s worldview awaited Leibniz.

I am not qualified to express an opinion on the merit of Stern’s opinion vs. that of Wolfson when it comes to understanding what the Gaon says. However, when it comes to the Sefer Yetzirah text, we should not assume that Yosef Avivi and Stern are the first ones to revocalize ספר as sefar. This passage in Sefer Yetzirah appears in R. Judah Halevi, Kuzari 4:25, and Hartwig Hirschfeld, in his translation, writes “S’far Sefer, and Sippur.” Also, here is a page from the edition of the Kuzari with the commentary of R. David Cohen, the Nazir (Jerusalem, 2002), p. 227, and you can see this vocalization. (On the previous page, he, like Hirschfeld, vocalizes the word sefar in the text of the Kuzari).

R. Joseph Kafih also vocalizes the word as “sefar” in his edition of the Kuzari.

Naor is mistaken when he states that understanding sefar as referring to “mathematics” is without foundation. While it is true that contrary to the implication of Stern, p. 196 n. 19, Avivi does not say anything about mathematics, there are others who do. Returning again to R. Judah Halevi, Kuzari 4:25, here is Hirschfeld’s translation:

As to sefar, it means the calculation and weight of the created bodies. The calculation which is required for the harmonious and advantageous arrangement of a body is based on a numerical figure. Expansion, measure, weight, relation of movements, and musical harmony, all these are based on the number expressed by the word sefar.

See also the page from R. David Cohen above, where he quotes R. Judah Barceloni who states: וספר – זה חשבון והוא המספר

Here is another text woth noting. It is from R. Joseph Kimhi’s Sefer ha-Galui (Berlin, 1887) p. 3.

Kimhi tells us that he is going to let us into the secret of this text, which hasn’t yet been explained, and he writes: ספר חשבון ומניין. He then explains that this is one of the wisdoms that only humans are privy to. See also the anonymous commentary on Sefer Yetzirah, published by Israel Weinstock (Jerusalem, 1984), which explains ספר ספר וספור as follows:

לעיין תמיד בספרים, ולספור דרכי המספרים, ולחשוב בם תמיד

There are other sources that can be cited, but I think this suffices to show that Stern’s reading has to be taken seriously.

Let me conclude by mentioning something already well known, that the Gaon’s writings are full of original views. Stern deals with some of them, and there are many others. In The Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 14 n. 55, I already note that the Gaon apparently believed that of the Thirteen Principles, only the first and second were real dogmas (in the Maimonidean sense).

Needless to say, each of the views I will now mention could have a detailed post of its own. There are obviously many other unique views of the Gaon, but for now I think these few will be of interest to readers as they are not that well known.

1. The Gaon did not wear R. Tam tefillin. We are told that he didn’t want to be without tefillin for even a small amount of time. Since the halakhah is in accordance with Rashi, the time spent wearing R. Tam tefillin would be regarded as bitul mitzvat tefillin.[10] R. Elijah Rabinowitz-Teomim writes[11]:

מתחרט אני כל פעם בלבי, על שהנהגתי בתפלין של רבנו תם, בראותי דעת רבינו הגר"א זצ"ל בזה, ככתוב בס'שערי רחמים משמו, אך אי אפשר לי שלא להניח עוד

2. According to the Gaon, non-Jews in the Land of Israel have to observe all the mitzvot. I know this will be hard for people to believe, so here is the text to see with your own eyes. It comes from the first edition of Aderet Eliyahu (Halberstandt, 1859-1860), Deut. 32:9.

This is a very unusual position, and I don’t know of any precedent for it.[12] It is so unusual, in fact, that the next printing, Warsaw 1887, simply cut this section out. Here is how the page looks in the Warsaw edition.

Raphael Shuchat notes that in a manuscript version of the Aderet Eliyahu text there is an important addition, which I have underlined:[13]

ואפילו הגוים הדרים בא"י צריכים לקיים כל המצוות, לפי שכל המצוות תלויים בארץ ישראל

But even with this addition the text is still very difficult, and no one has been able to find a source for the notion that Gentiles have to observe all the mitzvot in the Land of Israel, meaning that the idea is probably original to the Gaon. Shuchat offers two suggestions neither of which really fit with the Gaon’s words. One is that the Gaon means to say that since today there is no longer a law of ger toshav, any non-Jew who wishes to live in the Land of Israel has to convert. According to Shuchat, that is what he means when he says that non-Jews in the Land of Israel have to observe all the mitzvot. His other suggestion is that while there is no halakhic obligation for non-Jews to observe the mitzvot, by not doing so they are not respecting the sanctity of the Land.

שנכרי אינו חייב מצד ההלכה במצוות בארץ, אך מצד קדושת א"י הוא פוגם אם לא יקיים את המצוות בארץ

R. Eliezer Waldenberg also takes note of the passage in Aderet Eliyahu, and seeing no way to explain it assumes that the text is a mistake – מפי שמועה לא נכונה.[14]

Yet R. Waldenberg was unaware that in Aderet Eliyahu, Deut. 1:5, the Gaon says the exact same thing, namely, that in the Land of Israel non-Jews are obligated in all the mitzvot.[15]

ולכן נענשו אפי'נכרים מפני שלא שמרו את התורה בארץ כמ"ש (מ"ב י"ז) לא ידעו את משפט א-להי הארץ, שישראל מצווה על כל התורה בח"ל ובארץ מצווה אפי'נכרי

This text appears in full even in the second edition of Aderet Eliyahu, which is the edition that censored the comment to Deut. 32:9. R. Elijah Dessler used the censored Aderet Eliyahu so he didn’t know the Gaon’s comment to Deut. 32:9, but he noted the comment to Deut. 1:5 and expressed his great surprise.[16]

וזה דבר פלא לאמר דע"פ דין תורה כל נכרי הדר בא"י יהי'מחוייב בכל המצוות כל זמן שבחפצו לדור בה, ותו מה יהי'בדבר שמירת שבת, שהרי הגוי אסור בשמירתה, ומה יהי'באכילת קרבן פסח, וכדומה.

While I don’t know of any talmudic or midrashic sources to support the Gaon’s position that a non-Jew in the Land of Israel has to observe all mitzvot,. there are some earlier texts that place additional obligations on non-Jews than what we normally assume.

Midrash Tanhuma (ed. Buber), Metzora 13, states that non-Jews are punished with karet if they violate the laws of Niddah.[17]

Ibn Ezra, Ex. 13:7, 20:8, Lev. 17:13-14, 20:25, states that a non-Jew living in the Land of Israel (i.e., a ger toshav) is obligated to observe Shabbat. He is also not to work on Yom Kippur, to refrain from eating hametz on Passover, and to only eat kosher food. This is Ibn Ezra's understanding of the peshat of the Torah, but the Talmud records no such laws.

The most significant of the sources I can cite, and the one closest to the Gaon's position, is found in Avodah Zarah 64b. Here the Talmud quotes אחרים as saying that a ger toshav has to observe all the mitzvot with the exception of ritually slaughtered meat. The Hazon Ish, Yoreh Deah 65:6 wonders about this position, since does it mean that a non-Jew must wear tefillin and eat in a sukkah? He assumes that the talmudic passage means that non-Jews in the Land of Israel are only obligated in the negative commandments, and this is required so that Jews not be negatively influenced by their non-Jewish neighbors. See also R. Asher Weiss, Minhat Asher, Bereishit, p. 19.

Subsequent to the Gaon, the Hatam Sofer claims, based on a comment of Tosafot,[18] that when the Torah forbids something for Jews, it is praiseworthy for non-Jews to also abstain from this. See Hatam Sofer al ha-Torah, ed. Stern, vol. 1, p. 216:

דמה שהוא מדינא אסור לנו, נכנס עכ"פ בגדר החסידות גבי ב"נ

*******

1. If, after all I have written, people are still not motivated to read Stern’s book, or they simply don’t have the time, you can watch him discuss the topic here.

Quite apart from Stern’s work on the Gaon, Shlomo Pick wrote the following in his just published article, “Al Prof. Shaul Lieberman ve-ha-Makhon ha-Gavoah[19] le-Torah she-Al Yad Universitat Bar-Ilan – Perek me-Hashkafato,” Badad 28 (Kislev, 5744), p. 10 n. 10.

2. On a recent trip to Toronto I had the pleasure meeting the indefatigable Yehuda Azoulay. Anyone who is interested in the history of great Sephardic rabbis should check out his books here.

3. In the previous post I wrote about the title of the newspaper Yated Ne’eman, and how yated is actually a feminine noun. All that I wrote in that section was tongue in cheek, as I think readers realized, but by mistake I didn’t include a footnote that was supposed to go in. In that note I pointed out that despite what the grammarians might say about the word yated, there are plenty of sources, from long before the newspaper came into existence, that use yated as a masculine noun. The following passage, which has both masculine and feminine,[20] appears in Teshuvot ha-Rashba, ed. Dimitrovsky, vol. 2, p. 529:

ובמלאת הימים האלה יהיה היתד הנאמן תקועה בלבם יתד לא תמוט

4. In the last post I referred to R. Mordechai Agasi’s Asurei ha-Melekh, a recent book dealing with the halakhot of being in prison. One of the commenters noted that this is an example of “life imitating art”, and he referred to a parody of Artscroll available here here where you can see the imaginary new English sefer The Laws of Incarceration. (I recommend also clicking on the links at the bottom of phony Artscroll website.)

Yet what we see from Asurei ha-Melekh is that this is anything but a joke. The parody has as one of the questions answered by the fake Artscroll book, “What are the requirements for conducting Bedikas Chometz in one’s cell?” In Asurei ha-Melekh, vol. 1, pp. 161-162, Agasi, discusses this very case. (All references to Asurei Melekh will be to vol. 1 unless otherwise mentioned).

Believe me when I tell you that pretty much all the possible halakhic problems a prisoner can think of are dealt with in the book. He even deals with some very far-fetched cases. For example, on p. 17 he discusses how one is to put on tallit and tefillin if his hands are in chains. His answer is that a non-Jew can put them on the prisoner, and the prisoner can still make the blessing.

I know that many people have made a joke of Asurei ha-Melekh. But this is a very serious book that serves a real purpose. It also comes with a letter of approbation from R. Shalom Lipskar. He heads the Aleph Institute, one of whose purposes is to reach out to Jews in prison. With the great increase in haredi prisoners, it is important for them to be given halakhic guidance, and the way to do this is with a sefer. (The Modern Orthodox will need an English language book.) Just because someone makes a mistake and has to go to prison doesn’t mean that he should make matters worse and give up Torah observance. There are also new halakhic problems that have to be dealt with. For example, Agasi, p. 123, discusses the case of one who is under house arrest but is permitted to go to synagogue. To enforce the house arrest, the man has to wear an electronic monitor. Is one permitted to go to synagogue on the Sabbath with the electronic monitor since as soon as he leaves his house it starts to record his movements and causes various LED lights to go on? Agasi’s answer is that the man must not leave his house on the Sabbath.

The federal government has made matters easier for observant prisoners by turning Otisville Federal Penitentiary into the place where many non-violent haredim (and other Orthodox Jews) are sent if they are convicted of a federal crime. It has a full-time Jewish chaplain and kosher kitchen.[21] The prison commissary list of food[22] helpfully notes those that are kosher (regular hashgachah) and also those that are “super-kosher” under the hashgachah of the CRC (Central Rabbinical Congress, i.e., Satmar).

Returning to Agasi’s book, while it has certain value, as I indicated, it also has great problems. Let me begin, however, by noting something positive. On p. 42 he states in no uncertain terms that one must follow the Law of the Land, and this includes taxes, traffic, and building laws. He states that violation of the Law of the Land is a Torah prohibition.

Yet I must also state that the book is biased against the American justice system, which he thinks is putting away too many haredim. He tells us that Jewish law, unlike secular law, does not sentence people to prison as a punishment (p. 11). Historically this has been true, but that is because the Jewish communities didn’t have real prisons. At most they had small jails to keep people for limited periods of time. (See R. Ephraim ha-Cohen, Sha'ar Ephraim, no. 83, who discusses if the communal jail needs a mezuzah.) If they were dealing with a real criminal who had to be stopped, they turned him over to the non-Jewish authorities or they dealt with him through physical punishments. Jewish courts in Spain would deal very harshly with those they wanted to punish. They even cut off tongues and noses as forms of punishment. Considering the alternative, one would think that Agasi would be happy that we have progressed to prisons, which seem much more humane than how medieval Jews dealt with troublemakers. Yet from Agasi’s standpoint, long prison sentences are what he regards as cruel and unusual punishment.

מאסר למשך זמן רב הינו עונש עינוי אכזרי מתמשך ביותר

He also states that prison is not a deterrent. But his real problem with prison is that the Jewish prisoner, once he is incarcerated, can’t fulfill his appropriate spiritual tasks (p. 12).

המאסר שולל ממנו את החירות הדרושה לו כדי למלא את תפקידו הרוחני בעולם הזה, וכיון שכך, הינו מעכב את טובתו

Agasi contrasts the moral bankruptcy of prison with the Jewish approach, which doesn’t sentence a thief to jail but forces him to become a slave. And when someone kills accidentally, he is not sent to jail but instead has to live in a City of Refuge.[23] Agasi tells those unfortunate enough to be sentenced to prison that they should reflect on the fact that this is not the Torah way (p. 23):

אם חלילה נגזר עלינו לשהות בו תקופה ממושכת, בגין כל סיבה שרק תהיה, יש לנו להתבונן בהבדל המשמעותי שבין תורת ישראל לבין חוקי כל עם ולשון, בבחינת "ראו מה בין בני לבן חמי."

In order that the prisoner not feel alone in his predicament, Agasi includes a long list of stories so the prisoner can read about how others had also been improperly incarcerated. Among the figures to read about include Joseph, Samson, R. Meir of Rothenburg, R. Yom Tov Lippman Heller, R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady, R. Yehezkel Abramsky, and many others.

At the beginning of vol. 2, pp. 1-2, he notes that many of those sitting in prison are wondering what they are doing there when lots of non-Jews who did worse are free. Agasi’s response is to blame anti-Semitism. The non-Jews have it in for the haredim and that is why they are putting them in jail.

מאז ומקדם היו אומות העולם שונאים לבני יעקב. . . . נהנים ומתענגים לראות את בני ישראל שבורים ברוחם ורצוצים בגופם

His reply to the anti-Semites is that while they can imprison the Jew’s body, they can’t destroy his soul (p. 4):

עם ישראל לכל אורך הדורות תמיד ידע דבר אחד: אפשר לכלוא את גופם בתא מאסר, אפשר להצר את רגליהם מלכת, אפשר לאסור באזיקים את ידיהם, אפשר להשליכם אל צינוק חסר אוויר, אך, אי אפשר לכלוא את רוחם ונשמתם של בני מלכים הדבוקה בחי העולמים, אי אפשר להגיע אל נקודתם הפנימית המקושרת תמיד בבורא כל עולמים.

On p. 43 he states that according to Jewish law you can’t punish someone without two witnesses, even if you have clear proofs: הוכחות אפילו ברורות ביותר

Since the U.S. government is not obligated to operate according to Jewish law, I don’t know why this is relevant (unless he assumes that lacking witnesses the government only has the right to charge non-Jews). I have said it before, and let me now say it again. The Torah obligation for two witnesses was never how Jewish society operated. As has been pointed out by many, it is impossible to run a society that would require two male witnesses – not to mention the requirement of warning a perpetrator – in order to punish criminals, as such a system would not be able to convict anyone and thus would not have any power of deterrence. (Why the Torah has rules and procedures for criminals that can’t be implemented in the pre-Messianic world is a topic for a future post.) Jewish courts always did what they thought was necessary in order to secure order, and halakhah gives them this authority. To say otherwise is itself a hillul ha-shem because it means that when it comes to dealing with crime Jewish law is unworkable, while the truth is that Jewish law can deal with every possible situation.

Here is what the Rashba says on this issue (Teshuvot vol. 3, no. 393), and his words have been quoted again and again. Note expecially his strong language that insisting on Torah requirements will “destroy the world”.

ורואה אני שאם העדים נאמנים אצל הברורים רשאים הן לקנוס קנס ממון או עונש גוף, הכל כפי מה שיראה להם, וזה מקיום העולם, שאם אתם מעמידין הכל על הדינין הקצובים בתורה ושלא לענוש אלא כמו שענשה התורה בחבלות וכיוצא בזה נמצא העולם חרב, שהיינו צריכים עדים והתראה, וכמו שאמרו ז"ל לא חרבה ירושלים אלא שהעמידו דיניהם על דין תורה, וכ"ש בחוצה לארץ שאין דנין בה דיני קנסות ונמצאו קלי דעת פורצין גדרו של עולם ונמצא העולם שמם

See also R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski, Iggerot R. Hayyim Ozer, vol. 2 nos. 833, 837.

On p. 58, Agasi writes:

הנוגע בנכרי ובכל חפץ של עבודה זרה או הנוגע בישראל מומר יש להחמיר ליטול ידיו

Something tells me that this is not exactly the type of “humra” to be adopted when one goes to prison. Heaven help the Jewish prisoner if the non-Jew or non-observant Jew figures out what’s going on. To put it another way, I wouldn’t want to be in the prison yard when the good ol’ boys hear that Yankel has a problem shaking their hands.

I also wonder how smart it is for Agasi to tell the haredi prisoner the following:

אוכל נבילות להכעיס הרי הוא אפיקורס, והאפיקורס או ישראל המחלל שבת בפרהסיא אסור להחזיר להם אבידה, כעובד כוכבים.

Agasi does add that there are times when the lost object should be returned, but still, why even create the possibility that someone might want to be mahmir? Again, I wouldn’t want to be there when the non-Jew or non-observant Jew figures out who has taken their lost property.

I also don’t know how practical the following halakhah is, since prisoners don’t get to choose who their cellmate is (p. 58).

לא יתייחד ישראל עם נכרי, מפני שחשודים על שפיכות דמים

Finally, on p. 184 he gives us the following halakhah:

אסיר שברח מבית הסוהר, מברך ברכת הגומל, שאף אם ייתפס וייאסר פעם נוספת אין זה המשך המאסר הקודם אלא מאסר חדש, ואין לומר דכיון שיש חשש שמא ייתפס עדיין לא מקרי שישתחרר לגמרי.

When I told a friend this halakhah, he assumed that I was pulling his leg, just like the story of the man who had to be unburied since his tachrichin were made of sha’atnez, which was around the same time as the sha’atnez in the baseball gloves.

[1] Among the stories I record in this post is that when one of R. Velvel Soloveitchik’s sons died shortly after birth, and the family was crying, R. Velvel insisted that they stop their tears, since there is no avelut before thirty days. This sort of response can also be found in medieval times. In thirteenth-century England, R. Moses the Pious’s son hanged himself before Shavuot. R. Moses “did not leave his room nor did he shed a tear, but studied in his library as if no evil had befallen him, asserting that his son had caused his own death.” See Elliot Horowitz, Reckless Rites (Princeton, 2006), p. 154.

[2] See Divrei Eliyahu (Israel, n.d.), parashat Va-Yera. The two passages I quote also appear in Kol Eliyahu (Petrokov, 1905)

[3] See Torah Shelemah, Genesis, chs. 14 no. 56, 17 no. 173, 18 no. 17.

[4] For one creative solution, see R. David Halevi (the Taz), Divrei David to Gen. 18:1, that Abraham was never actually commanded to circumcise himself!

אין מצוה זו לאברהם דרך צווי כשאר מצות, אלא נתן לאברהם הברירה אם חפץ הוא שיתקיים העולם ימול, ואם לאו שאינו חפץ לימול לא יתקיים העולם, וא"כ אין הכרח שימול עצמו, לזה ביקש עצה מג'אוהביו מה יבחר לו

R. Judah Kahana (died 1819), Terumat ha-Kari (Jerusalem, 1997), Introduction, claims that Abraham never had any doubt that he would follow God’s command. However, he wanted his companions to attempt to convince him not to circumcise himself, as his fulfillment of the commandment in the face of such arguments would therefore be a higher level of service of God, as the Sages tell us: לפום צערא אגרא. This is a strange position, since when is one supposed to purposely test oneself in such a way? Just as strange is R. Yisrael Yaakov Fisher, Even Yisrael al ha-Torah (Jerusalem, 2007), pp. 19-20. He argues in a similar fashion as R. Kahana and claims that just as Maimonides in Shemonah Perakim, ch. 6, tells us that the highest level is one who desires to commit (certain) sins but overcomes his inclination, so too one should feel a desire not to observe positive commandments and nevertheless overcome this desire. Since Abraham had no evil inclination, and was obviously going to observe God’s command, he wished to create the equivalent of an evil inclination by having his colleagues argue against circumcision.

מעתה מבואר היטב הא דנטל אברהם אבינו עצה על המילה, דהרי אמרו חז"ל בב"ב (יז ע"א) שלשה לא שלט בהן יצה"ר אברהם יצחק ויעקב, וא"כ כשנצטוה על המילה לא היה לו יצה"ר להסיתו שלא יעשה ויהיה כוסף שלא לעשות, ואח"כ יעשה, כי הוא המעולה והמשובח כמש"כ הרמב"ם, ולכן הלך אצל ג'אוהביו כדי שהם יסיתוהו שלא יעשה ואח"כ יעשה כי הוא המשובח והמעולה.

Try to imagine going through life thinking that the positive commandments you do (wearing tzitzit, eating matzah, taking a lulav, etc.) you really don’t want to do but only do so because you are commanded. This is not exactly a recipe for making Judaism appealing, however much it might please Yeshayahu Leibowitz.

[5] One day during the forced evacuation of Amona, R. Avraham Shapiro was unable to deliver his shiur. He told the story of R. Shneur Zalman and his son and concluded, “I too cannot teach at a time when children in Israel are crying from the cruel blows delivered by their brothers.” Yitzhak Dadon, Rosh Devarkha, p. 160. See also Daniel Sperber, On the Relationship of Mitzvot Between Man and His Neighbor and Man and His Maker (Jerusalem, 2014), pp. 57-58.

[6] The story appears in R. Ephraim Zaitchik, Ha-Meorot ha-Gedolim (Jerusalem, 1969), p. 38 (no. 108).

[7] This last paragraph brings up an issue that I have discussed quite a bit on this blog. Recently, the news was awash with the great kiddush ha-shem performed by Rabbi Noah Muroff when he returned a bag containing nearly $100,000 to its rightful owner. I then listened to his talk at the Agudah convention here.

I am curious if anyone else had my reaction. While his return of the money was definitely a kiddush ha-shem, I think that his speech has the potential to be a hillul ha-shem, nullifying the kiddush ha-shem. First of all, he lets the world know that there are those who told him that it was forbidden (!) to return this money. He then tells the audience that his justification of returning the money was in order to make a kiddush ha-shem. This approach, which received applause at the convention (but not from those on the dais!), is not what he explained in a prior interview with the Los Angeles Times that his reason was “to do what is right, and thinking about the feelings of others. It’s looking out for one’s fellow man, and not just for one’s self.” (I assume this is how he really feels, not how he expressed himself at the convention.)

Let’s leave aside the point that as best as I can determine, according to secular law one is indeed obligated to return lost property of this sort. I understand that for those who don’t accept the Meiri, the halakhah Muroff is discussing can be quite a challenge in modern times. But I wonder what is going through the heads of the Agudah leadership. Do they really want the entire world to know that their approach in this matter has nothing to do with helping one’s fellow man, but is about doing what will make Jews look good in people’s eyes? Isn’t this the sort of thing that would be best not spoken about in public?

[8] R. Nathan Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, vol. 2, p. 1261, refers to R. Eliyahu “Kremmer”.

[9] A great nephew of the Gaon was named Elijah Kramer. See R. Avraham Benedikt, “Ha-Gaon Rabbi Yaakov Zvi Neiman,” Moriah 10 (Heshvan 5742), p. 82.

[10] See R. Asher ha-Kohen, Keter Rosh (Jerusalem, 2012), no. 13. See the discussion of the Gaon’s opinion in R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, Divrei Torah, vol. 7, p. 865, and in Ot Hayyim ve-Shalom 34:2.

[11] Nefesh David, p. 123, published with Seder Eliyahu (Jerusalem, 1983).

[12] For Karaites who held this position, see David Sklare, “Are the Gentiles Obligated to Observe the Torah,” in Jay M. Harris, ed., Be’erot Yitzhak (Cambridge, MA, 2005), pp. 311-346.

[13] “Eretz Yisrael be-Mishnat ha-Gra,” Ha-Ma’ayan (Tamuz 5758), p. 16.

[14] Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 16, no. 60. (In Hilkhot Medinah, vol. 3, p. 6, R. Waldenberg quotes this text of the Gaon and doesn’t raise any questions about its authenticity.)

This is the exact sort of approach that R. Waldenberg criticized R. Moshe Feinstein for adopting when confronted with a difficult Tosafot. R. Moshe argued that the text should be emended. R. Waldenberg responded forcefully (Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 14, no. 100):

והנה עם כל הכבוד, לא אדוני, לא זו הדרך, וחיים אנו עפ"ד גאוני הדורות, והמה טרחו כל אחד ואחד לפי דרכו לבאר ולהעמיד כוונת דברי התוס'בנדה וליישבם, ואף אחד מהם לא עלה על דעתו הדרך הקלה והפשוטה ביותר לומר שיש ט"ס בדברי התוס'ובמקום מותר צריך להיות אסור.

I have earlier commented on how on a number of occasions R. Moshe discarded sources that did not fit in with his understanding. See The Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 101 n. 73. See also R. Yehoshua Mondshine’s discussion in Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 21 (Tishrei-Heshvan 5766), pp. 150-151. Mondshine discusses a text of R. Jacob Emden that R. Moshe declared inauthentic, yet we have the text in question in Emden’s own handwriting.

New information on R. Moshe’s outlook can be found in the recently published Mesorat Moshe (Jerusalem, 2013). Not only was R. Moshe’s approach in this area not scientific, but it is quite untraditional, even radical. See ibid., pp. 506, 507, 508, 520, 522, 525, 590, where R. Moshe rejects the authenticity of comments of Rashbam, “Rashi” on Chronicles, Ramban, and Sforno. Regarding the Ramban, he thought that real heresy had maliciously been inserted into the commentary, a view that as far as I know has never before been suggested. In other cases where he rejected the authenticity of comments of Rashbam and Or ha-Hayyim, he only retracted his view when he saw that there was midrashic support for these comments.

After seeing all this, I think it is impossible to take seriously R. Betzalel Deblitsky’s assumption that when R. Moshe referred to a text as inauthentic, it is likely that he didn’t mean this literally but was merely adopting a respectful way of disagreeing with an earlier authority. See Deblitsky, Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 21 (Kislev-Tevet 5766), p. 170:

והכל יודעים שברוב המקומות אין לשון זו אמורה אלא כלפי דברים הדחוים מחמת עצמם אם מסברא ואם ממשנה. ולשון כבוד הוא, כאומר שאין לתלות האשמה במחבר עצמו ובודאי תלמיד טועה כתבו. הנסיון לאמת קביעה זו של "תלמוד טועה כתבו"בבדיקה בכת"י, משול כמעט למי שילקט לשונות "כי ניים ושכיב אמרה", ויברר ע"פ מקורות נאמנים כי אותו חכם אשר עליו נאמר לשון זה, אמר לההיא שמעתתא בשעת צילותא ולא כמתנמנם.

See also the discussion here.

Finally, R. Hillel Goldberg called my attention to the Gaon's commentary to Yoreh Deah 201:1 where he writes: וכתבו בספרי הטבע. This is further evidence that the Gaon read scientific works. Goldberg also called my attention to the Hazon Ish, Mikvaot 7:4 (first series) who refers to the Gaon's commentary ad loc., and writes: ונראה שאין זה ממשנת הגר"א ז"ל. Yet this is incorrect as the Gaon's commentary was printed from his manuscript without any changes being inserted. Goldberg discusses the Hazon Ish's comment in his Hallel ha-Gadol (Denver, 2008), p. 20. See also Betzalel Landau, Ha-Gaon he-Hasid mi-Vilna (Jerusalem, 1978), p. 220, who cites a hasidic author, R. Abraham Joshua Freund, who stated that this passage was not written by the Gaon, "but some mistaken student wrote it in his name."

[15] For earlier statements regarding Aderet Eliyahu, and the assumption that certain passages were actually authored by his son R. Avraham and others, see Dovid Kamenetsky, “Kitvei ha-Gra bi-Defus u-vi-Khetav Yad,” Yeshurun 24 (2011), pp. 940-951. R. Avraham denied the accusation that his words are included in the commentary. See Yeshurun 4 (1998), pp. 2-3. Regarding the general issue of citations of the Gaon in later works, including their reliability, see Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, “Kuntres Amar Eliyahu,” Yeshurun 6 (1999), pp. 734-762, ibid., 7 (2000), pp. 707-734. (Here is good place to note that many writers use Spiegel’s research without acknowledgment.)

[16] Sefer ha-Zikaron le-Ba’al Mikhtav me-Eliyahu (Bnei Brak, 2004), vol. 1, p. 45. R. Dessler mentions which edition of Aderet Eliyahu he used.

[17] See R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, Kerem Yaakov (Jerusalem, 1989), pp. 92-93.

[18] Ta’anit 11a s.v.אסור

[19] According to some, including the Gaon, this is how the word גבוה is pronounced. See the Gaon’s Dikdukei Eliyahu (Lodz, 1939), p. 22. Others think it should be pronounced “gavowah”. See R. Ben Zion Cohen, Sefat Emet (Jerusalem, 1987), p. 59. It is a mistake to pronounce it “govoha” (as in the official name of the Lakewood yeshiva), or “gavoha” (as in the official English name of Yeshivat Or Etzion in Israel).

[20] It is corrected to all masculine in one of the manuscripts. See Dimitrovsky’s note, ad loc.

[21] See here.

[22] See here here.

[23] R. Yissocher Frand has a similar approach to that of Agassi. See his essay here where he writes:

Torah justice differs significantly from today's legal systems. Modern justice attempts to go beyond the actual crime, into the mind of the criminal, to determine why he committed the crime. Was he abused as a youngster? Perhaps the discrimination suffered by people of his race caused him to commit the crime? Was he fully coherent when he committed the crime? Maybe he was insane at the time… Hundreds of criminals are freed each year because the jury or judge trying their case felt that they were able to evaluate the motives of the criminal, and based on their evaluation, the criminal should not be punished for his crime.

Truthfully, however, we mortals have no way of determining most people's motives. In the Torah justice system, the dayanim (judges) are required to rule cases based on cool, calculated examination of the evidence, with absolutely no leniency for what they might consider to be extenuating circumstances.

This is a complete distortion of how Jewish courts operated. There was a reason why it was so rare that the courts executed someone. It was precisely because they did not rule cases “based on cool, calculated examination of the evidence.” Based on what I have quoted, it appears that Frand believes that Jewish courts are supposed to execute someone even if he was not fully coherent. Some people assume that the reason the Sages set up so many roadblocks in the way of executing someone was because they wanted to prevent possible execution of an innocent man. Yet Gerald Blidstein suggests that it might be because they didn’t want to execute a guilty man. See his "Capital Punishment – The Classic Jewish Discussion," in Menachem Kellner, ed., Contemporary Jewish Ethics (New York, 1978), p. 316.

↧

The Netziv, Reading Newspapers on Shabbos, in general & Censorship (part one)*

March 5, 2014, 10:18 am

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The Netziv, Reading Newspapers on Shabbos, in general & Censorship (part one)*

By: Eliezer Brodt

Previously, I have touched on the topic of the Netziv reading newspapers on weekdays and on Shabbos [here and here]. In this post I would like to revisit the subject, and also deal with some cases of censorship in the Netziv's seforim.[1] I would like to stress at the outset that this is a work in progress[2] and not intended L'Halacha; each person should consult his own Rav.

In 1928, R' Baruch Halevei Epstein described in his Mekor Baruch how on Shabbos his uncle, the Netziv, would read the Hebrew newspaper:

ואחר שקידש דודי על היין וטעמו מיני מאפה קלה, ואחר שקרא מעט בעתונים שנתקבלו מחדש... [מקור ברוך, חלק ד, עמ' 1790].Further he adds:

וזוכר אני, כי "המגיד"הי'דרכו להתקבל בכל ערב שבת לפנות ערב, ובלילה לא קרא אותו, מפני שליל שבת הי'קודש לו לחזור בעל פה על המשניות ממסכתות שבת ועירובין... וקרא בו (בהמגיד) במשך היום.

וכאשר נקרה, שנתאחר "המגיד"לבא בזמנו בערב שבת, הי'אומר, כי באותה השבת חש הוא כאלו חסר לו דבר מה, כמו שמרגיש "בשבת חזון". זה הרגיל ללכת למרחץ בכל ערב שבת, ובערב שבת חזון נמנעים מזה; וכן הי'אומר כי העתונים יחשבו לו כמביאי אליו ברכת שלום מכל העולם ועל כן יוקירם וייחל להם [מקור ברוך שם, עמ' 1794].

In 1988, Artscroll published part of this book in English called 'My Uncle the Netziv'. Lakewood Cheder distributed it as a fundraiser. A few months later, the Cheder sent out a letter apologizing for having sent the book and recommended not reading it. The Cheder explained that there were statements in the book which did not represent the Hashkofos of the Netziv. Jacob J. Schacter, in his frequently quoted article "Haskalah, Secular Studies and the Close of the Yeshiva in Volozhin in 1892,[3] speculates as to which aspects of the book this letter was referring; was it the author's description of the Netziv reading of newspapers on Shabbos?

There have been many articles written in the past about the Mekor Baruch, alleging plagiarism and the errors he made in his historical narrative.[4] Some have shown that quotes in his father's name about Chabad are unreliable. In the present article, I do not wish to add to that. It seems unlikely that that Rabbi Epstein would publish fabrications regarding his uncle's practices that were common knowledge.[5] His work received a glowing haskamah from Rav Kook; had R. Epstein penned outright lies about the Netziv, Rav Kook's rebbe, it is doubtful that he would have given such an approbation.

This assumption aside, we may adduce more concrete evidence as to the veracity of R. Epstein's report. In 1888, when Rav Kook he was 23 years old, he published the first issue of a periodical entitled 'Ittur Sofrim'.[6] This sefer had many impressive Haskomot from Gedolei Yisroel, among them the Netziv. The volume included a Teshuvah from the Netziv, where he writes:

במכה"ע... ולי נראה דודאי לעיין מותר בפשיטות

Here is a copy of the actual Teshuvah of the Netziv:

Later on in the same year (1888) Rav Zev Turbavitz in a letter to the Aderet, writes:[7]

כאשר הגיע לידי סי'עיטור סופרים חלק ראשון נבהלתי מראות הלכה הראשונה בראשית הפעלים לתורה מהרב הנצי"ב מוואלאזין שחולק על הש"ע שאוסר גם העיון בשטרי הדיוטות בשבת... והארכתי בזה ובודאי נחוץ הוא להדפיסה כי בודאי רבים יפלו על המציאה הגדולה הזאת, ויתלה עצמן באילן גדול ויתפארו בעצמן שכתורה יעשו...

He also wrote a letter to Rav Kook, where he says:

עיטור סופרים... והנה בפתחי אותו ראיתי ראשית אומרים בד"ת פסק הג'הנצי"ב מוואלאזין, ונשתוממתי מאד ושלח דברים ע"פ חוצות לחלוק על הש"ע וכן הראשונים והאחרונים בדברים של מה בכך, ובפרט להקל באיסורי שבת... והאמת אגיד לכת"ר כי אם לא היה שמו של הנצי"ב חתום על דבריו לא הייתי מאמין שיצאו דברים אלו מפי בן תורה ומה גם מפי גדול. ונפלאתי על כבודו שנתן להם מקום עוד בראש דבריו...".

R' Chaim Berlin writes this about his father's Heter in 1893:[8]

ועל דבר לעיין בשבת בהרהורא בעלמא בלי קריאה בפה באגרות רשות ובמכתבי העתים לא הי'כלל דעת מר אבא הגאון שליט"א, לקבוע מסמרים בהלכה זו ככל דבריו שבעטור סופרים, ולא בא אלא ליישב מנהג העולם שקוראים במכתבי העתים בשבת שסומכים בזה על משמעות תלמודא דידן עפ"י דעתם, שמפרשים דתלמודא דידן פליג בזה על תלמוד ירושלמי, אבל להלכה גם הוא יודה דקיי"ל כהירושלמי, וכה"ג מצינו בהרבה מקומות שכתבו הפוסקים ליישב מנהג העולם, שסומכים על דעה יחידית אף שלא כהלכה.

Without going into his reasoning, it seems clear that the Netziv, permitted reading newspapers on Shabbos.

In 1894, The Shut Bikurei Shlomo was printed (with a Haskamah of the Netziv). The first Teshuvah is a letter the author wrote to the Netziv in 1890, commenting on his Heter to read newspapers on Shabbos, which was printed in 'Ittur Sofrim'. The second Teshuvah is the Netziv's response clarifying his heter. He did not back down from it.[9] Even more interesting is that the letter of Rabbi Chaim Berlin, previously mentioned, is also to the author of the Shut Bikurei Shlomo.

Worth pointing out is, in the Netziv's Meromei Sadeh to Shabbos [116 b, p. 94] he writes exactly as he does in Ittur Sofrim, he just does not add in the words 'newspapers'. This clearly shows that he understood that this was the correct way to learn the Sugyah.

R. Meir Bar-Ilan also writes that his father, the Netziv permitted reading newspapers on Shabbos (Me-Volozhin LeYerushalayim 1:138). Apparently he did not agree with his brother, R' Chaim Berlin.

The Shut Meishiv Davar

R. Meir Bar-Ilan writes about his father's Teshuvot:

ולא עלה על דעתו לפרסם חידושיו הרבים על הש"ס ותשובותיו שהגיעו לאלפים. רק בסוף ימיו, כאשר הפצירו בו מאות ואלפי תלמידיו שיפרסם את תשובותיו, הסכים בקושי גדול להדפיסן בשם 'משיב דבר', ומפני שלא היה בידו העתקות מתשובותיו, כשם שלא נשארו העתקות משאר מכתביו, מוכרחים היו לקבצם משואלים שונים ולאספם ממקומות רבים. מתוך כך התשובות שנדפסו במשיב דבר אינן אלא חלק קטן מאוד ממה שהשיב... [מוולוזין עד ירושלים, א, עמ' 138][10].

It is interesting to note that these two Teshuvot [from Ittur Sofrim and Bikurei Shlomo] about reading newspapers were not printed in this 1894 collection.

In 1993, a new edition of the Shut Meishiv Davar was printed with a fifth section, which includes a collection of 109 Teshuvot and articles by Netziv from various places, including manuscripts. Noticeably absent are both of the Netziv's Teshuvot regarding reading Newspapers, from the Ittur Sofrim and Bikurei Shlomo.

In 2004, Eyal Mishulash was printed on the subject of reading Shtarei Hedyotot on Shabbos. At the end of the work [p. 240], he quotes a response from Shut Bikurei Shlomo and dismisses the opinion, based upon a Mordechai. The author does not bother telling you exactly who he is dismissing, namely the Netziv, which I believe is a problematic way to present facts; at the very least, mention that the author of the Heter is the Netziv. I feel certain that if the Netziv had forbidden it, his Teshuvah would have been printed prominently in the book.

It is worth noting that none of the various compilations dealing with this topic mention the Netziv's Teshuvot. Even Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef, who discusses reading newspapers on Shabbos in Chazon Ovadiah, 6:70-73 [one of the last things he wrote], does not quote these Teshuvot.

Reading newspapers during the week[11]

Rabbi Epstein writes:

כל מערכות העתונים העברים כמעט, מאלה אשר במדינה ואשר בחו"ל היו שולחים עליו את העתוניהם השבועיים והירחונים... חנם אין כסף, והיו מעתירים אליו כי יחוננם בספורתו מן איזה מין שהוא... והיו עתים ומקרים שנענה להם; ולקריאה תמידית וסדורית היו לו העתנוים "המגיד"ו"הלבנון"... [מקור ברוך, ד, עמ' 1794].

R Meir Bar-Ilan also writes the same (Me-Volozhin LeYerushalayim 1:138[12]):

כשהתחילו הצפירה והמליץ לצאת בכל יום והדואר בוולוז'ין היה מתקבל פעמיים בשבוע, וכל פעם באה חבילה שלימה של עתונים, היה אבא ז"ל מקפיד על כך, שאיש לא יקח ממנו גליון עתון, קודם שעבר על הכל.

He repeats this in his work Raban Shel Yisroel (p. 112).

Micha Yosef Berdyczewski writes in an article first published in 1886:

נצי"ב... אוהב תורה וחכמה, ומכתבי העתים שלא יקצצו בנטיעות ימצאו מהלכים בביתו... [מיכה יוסף ברדיצ'בסקי, כתבים, א, עמ' 72]

Another student of Volozhin writes in his memoirs about the Netziv:

היה חותם על כל מכתב עת עברי וקרא בהם כמו ה'מליץ', ה'צפירה', 'היום', 'המגיד''הלבנון'ועוד [פרקי זכרונות, עמ' 127].

In his memoirs about the Netziv, yet another student of Volozhin writes:

הגר"הל [הגאון ר'הירש ליב] כידוע לא היה קנאי, היה גם מקוראי המליץ ואף ליודעי חן היה ביתו פתוח לקרות אותו.[13]

Similarly, Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Shapiro writes:

הנצי"ב עצמו היה מקבל בכל יום את הצפירה והמליץ [ר'משה שמואל ודורו, עמ' 62].

Censorship in the Meishiv Davar

Shaul Stampfer writes in his excellent book 'Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century' (p. 163) "Both R. Berlin and R. Hayim Soloveitchik read newspapers".

In a footnote he records the following:

"Rabbi Boruch Oberlander pointed out that, in the latest edition of R. Berlin's Responsa Meshiv Davar there is a curious omission. The original reads 'as published in Hamelits, 137 in 5687' but in the new edition reads simply 'as published in 5687' (… Meshiv Davar ii. [p.]71 (responsum 8). Despite the omission in the current edition, it is clear that R. Berlin read newspapers."[14]

My good friend Mr. Israel, upon reading this passage, consulted a copy of the first edition of Meishiv Davar, printed in 1894, and confirmed what Rabbi Oberlander said is indeed correct, the words 'Hameilits etc.' appear. However, when he checked another copy of Meishiv Davar, also printed in 1894, he saw that the words 'Hameilits etc.' had been removed! Thus proving that this censorship took place already in 1894!

It appears that the Meishiv Davar was printed twice in 1894 and already there are differences between the two editions.

The Mifal Bibliography Haivrit notes:

קיימות הדפסות סטיריאוטיפיות אחדות של ספר זה, ובכולן התאריך תרנ"ד. יש השמטות אחדות שונות בין הדפסה להדפסה.

However, they do not write what the differences are, exactly. It seems we have uncovered one of them.[15]

Shmuel Glick, in his first volume of Kuntres Hateshuvot Hachadoshot, s.v. Meishiv Davar [p. 686 # 2498], does not make any mention of there being two versions of the 1894 edition. However, in volume three [p. 1505], Glick notes that there are different editions of Meishiv Davar and while he does mention one difference between the two editions, he does not note this particular discrepancy. [See the end of the post.]

The story does not end here. When Mr. Israel turned the page to the very next siman in the Meishiv Davar, he again noticed the same occurrence. In one edition of the 1894 Meishiv Davar [p. 73, responsum 9] it says 'Hameliits etc.' and in the other edition, also printed in 1894, the word 'Hameilits' had been removed!

Even more interesting is that these two Teshuvot originally appeared as articles in the Hameilits newspaper!!

Additionally worth pointing out, is another mention of Hameilits newspaper in the same siman [no. 9], which was not edited out from either 1894 edition:

אבל אם בעל נפש הוא עליו לבקש תחלה מחילה ברבים באותו מקום הוא המליץ...

[Presumably, those responsible for censoring the edition mistook the word to mean 'advocated', not the title of the newspaper]

Images five

In 1968, the Meishiv Davar was reprinted based on the 1894 edition that included the words 'Hameilits etc.'.

In 2003, a volume called Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin was printed in Bnei Brak, including some letters on this same controversy [pp. 168- 174] [without saying where they are from[16]] with the words 'Hameilits etc.'

Netziv and his Emek Ha-Netziv

Surprisingly, the story does not end here.

In an article written in 1887 by Rav Kook about the Netziv[17], he writes:

ובהיותו בן עשרים ושלש שנים כבר ראה לבו הרבה חכמה ודעת בכל מקצועות תורה שבעל פה ואז החל לכתוב ספרו הגדול על הספרי חמדה גנוזה עמו עד היום... הננו מעוררים בזה את כבוד הגאון שליט"א לזכות את הרבים מתופשי התורה בהוצאת הספר היקר הזה לאור עולם ולהאיר עיני רבים ממבקשי הדעת [כנסת ישראל, בעריכת ש'ראבינוויץ, ווארשא תרמ"ח, עמ' 140(=מאמרי הראי"ה, עמ' 124)].

However, the Netziv's Pirush on Sifrei,[18] entitled Emek Ha-Netziv was first printed from manuscript only in 1959-1969. In the first volume the Netziv quotes the "Zofeh Le-hamagid Year ten, issue 28". Gil Perl already notes that this is the edition of the Ha -Maggid printed on July 17, 1867.[19] Although Perl noted other cases of censorship in the Emek Ha-Netziv, this source was not censored.[20] We see here clearly that the Netziv read newspapers and even referenced them in his work.

Netziv and his Ha'amek Davar

In 1879, the Netziv printed his classic work on chumash, Ha'amek Davar,[21] based on the Shiurim he gave after Davening.[22] In his Pirush to Parshat Bereishis (2:9), he quotes a manuscript of R' Maimon (father of the Rambam) which he had seen printed in Ha-Levonon.

In 1937, Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan printed a collection of almost one thousand and five hundred addenda by the Netziv to his Ha'amek Davar[23] [available here]. On page seven, Netziv quotes the newspaper Ha-tzefirah. Furthermore, Gil Perl points to some additional passages in Ha'amek Davar that seem to be based on material from the newspapers of the time.[24] From all the above, we see him reading newspapers.[25]

Censorship and the Ha'amek Davar

In 1999, a new edition of the Ha'amek Davar was printed incorporating many more corrections.[26] They inserted the numerous addenda published by Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan into their proper places in the chumash. However two pieces were censored out - both of the aforementioned quotes by the Netziv,[27] citing these newspapers!

In 2005, Rabbi Mordechai Cooperman reprinted the Ha'amek Davar; with annotations, his edition does contain both newspaper references.

More on the Netziv and newspapers

In 2003, a volume called Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin was printed in Bnei Brak this volume is full of references and articles by the Netziv from different newspapers of the time.[28]

In Meishiv Davar 1:44 there is a piece titled: "Al Yamin vsmal'.[29] This siman was actually first printed in the newspaper Machzike Hadat[30] and as can be seen from the introductory paragraphs, it was a response to an earlier article that the Netziv had read in that newspaper.

Appendix: Some other Gedolim who read Newspapers

Yitzchak Wetzlar writes in the introduction to his Libes Briv (written in the early 1700's) about his work: "think of it as a Newspaper. Nowadays the finest and most important people, scholars and Rabbis read them or have them read to them".[31]

For other Poskim who were known to have read newspapers, see: Rabbi Yakov Emden[32]; Rabbi Yosef Zechariah Stern [as anyone familiar with his writings knows][33]; Yakov Mark, BeMechitzosom Shel Gedolei Hador, p. 34; Roni Beer Marx, ibid, pp. 40-41 [about the Malbim and others]; Rabbi Yitzchak Nissenbaum, Alei Cheldi,[34]; Jacob Katz, With My Own Eyes, pp. 30-31; Pinchas Sirkis, Ish HaEmunah, 1979, p. 82, 86; Jacob J. Schacter, 'Facing the Truths of History', Torah U'maddah Journal, 8 (1998), p. 225, 263-264 [about Rav Moshe Feinstein Zatzal]; Benny Brown, Hachazon Ish, 2011, p. 21 [about the Chazon Ish; who even quotes Ha-Tzefirah in his work on Orach Chaim 141:9].

A student of the forgotten gaon,[34b] Rabbi Moshe Nechemia Kahanov (1817-1887) [Rosh Yeshiva of Eitz Chaim[34c]] writes:

ר'משה נחמיה כהנא או ה'רבה'מחסלביץ, ראש הישיבה, ידע את נטיתי להשכלה וקרבני על כך, שכן אף הוא היה נוטה בצנעה להשכלה ולמשכילים. בימים ההם אסרו על ה'חבצלת'לבוא בקהל והרב מחסלביץ היה מקבל אותה מדי שבת בשבת מידי אני. בכל שבת אחר הצהרים הייתי סר אל הישיבה כש'החבצלת'טמונה בחיקי, מוסר אותה לידיו והוא פורש לחדר קטן הנשען אל הישיבה וקורא בה. כפעם בפעם היה מוסר על ידי שלום לרי"ד פרומקין ומביע לו את ידידותו והוקרתו על השקפתיו של העורך. אוסר אני בכבלים היה מצדיק את הדין על עצמו חולני אני ואין בכחי לעמוד בפני התקיפים ממני [אפרים כהן רייס, מזכרונות איש ירושלים, עמ' 54].

Worth pointing out is Binyomin Goldberg's claim that even Rabbi Chaim Soloveitchik secretly read the Hameilits.[35]

Rabbi Moshe Bernstein,[36] Son in law of Rabbi Baruch Ber Leibowitz records the following story about Reb Baruch Ber:

משביקר הגאון ר'משה סולוביציק, שהיה אז ראש ישיבת תחכמוני בוילנה, כיבדו בהגדת שיעור בישיבה, תלמידי הישיבה שהיו ברובם קנאים התנגדו לזה בכל תקף ובאו לומר לרבם כי הם ילכו מהשיעור הזה, הוא אמר להם כדברים האלה, ת"ל חוננתי בכח מיוחד שלא להאמין בדבר שאינו רוצה, לדידי אין הדבר אמת כלל, ידיד נפשו הגאון ר'משה אינו כלל בישיבת המזרחי תחכמוני[37], אינו קורא עתונים ואינו מאמין להם, וככה אני יועץ גם לכם, התלמידים שמעו לקולו והקשיבו אל השיעור בנחת ובשלוה [הגיונות, עמ'עב].

Another Great Gaon who read newspapers was Rabbi Eliyahu Klatzkin. According to his son Yakov, he subscribed to and read several papers in different languages.[38] In an incredible Teshuva of his regarding Tzar Balei Chaim Rabbi Klatzkin quotes numerous medical works in different languages and even newspapers, including The London Times and others papers in Russian and Yiddish.[39]

While Rabbi Moshe Zeirah, Yeshurun 15 (2005), pp. 753-776, refers to the Teshuva on Tzar Balei Chaim and Rabbi Eliyahu Klatzkin's expert knowledge of science, he does not mention this point.[40]

Another person who read newspapers was Rabbi Shneur Zalman Me'Lublin,[41] author of the Shut Toras Chessed:

רבי ישראל דוד פרומקין שהיה ממעריצי הרב שלח להרב בכל יום ששי העתון חבצלת שהוציא לאור. לקח הרב סכין וחתך למעלה, שיהא נוח לקרות, הביט שניה אחת על העמוד הראשון וכן על השני וכן להלן רק איזה שניות, אחר כך לקח את העתון ופרש על המפה שעל השלחן, ועליו היתה הרבנית מעמדת המנרות של שבת שלא יטפטף מן החלב על המפה. חשבתי שאינו קורא כל הכותב בעתון, המכיל 8 עמודים שלמים, רק מעט בצד זה ומעט מצד שני, וכן הלאה. פעם בין מנחה למעריב, כאשר שכב על מטתו ושמע חדשות (כשאר הבאתי לעיל), ספר אחד חדשות מענינות, אמר הרב זה מדפוס בעתון חבצלת של שבוע זה, ואמר לי להביא את העתון שהיה מונח על האיצטבא. מסרתי לו, ותוך כדי דיבר פתח העתון והראה בעמוד פלוני שורה פלונית כתוב זאת. נשתוממתי שבמהירות כל כך קורא את כל העתון ובשניה אחת הראה איפה מודפס [שלשה עולמות, ב, עמ'קמז-קמח].

Another person who read newspapers was Rabbi Elchanon Wasserman. The following passage appears on Rabbi Aron Sorasky's book Or Elchonon [1: 27-28 and the second passage appears in the same book pp. 282-283]. In the English version adaption of this book printed by Artscroll called Reb Elchonon both passage appear uncensored [pp. 28-29, 216] [Thanks to my friend Eli Markin for this source].

Another additional point in all this is there were great Gedolim who wrote articles in some of these newspapers[41b] such as Rabbi Alexander Moshe Lapidus,[42] Rabbi Tzvi Hirsch Kalisher,[43] Rabbi Eliyahu Gutmacher,[44] Rabbi Shmuel Moholiver, [45]Rabbi Mordechai Eliasberg[46] and Rabbi Yechiel Yakov Weinberg.[47]

Just to conclude with one last story related to reading newspaper:

*Special thanks goes to my good friend Yisroel Israel for all his time and help in preparing this article. I would also like to thank my friend Rabbi Yosaif M. Dubovick for editing this article.

[1] For general sources on censorship in Shut [Responsa] Literature see S. Glick, Kuntres Hateshuvot Hachadoshot, vol. 1, introduction, pp. 58-67; ibid, E-Shnev leSafrut HaTeshuvot, pp. 259-290.

[2] In the future, I hope to return to exploring other Heterim for reading newspapers on Shabbos. For now see: Herman Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic lands (1648-1806), Cambridge 1971, pp. 168-169, 235, Daniel Sperber, Darka Shel Halacha, pp. 238-241. I also hope to return to the Netziv and his writings in a special series of articles devoted to him. It must be noted that "newspapers" in this context do not only refer to newspapers like the New York Times. The periodical literature read by the Netziv was not the Times and was not Hamodia. These were in many cases ideologically maskilic papers, and while they contained typical Torah articles, they *also* contained editorials and "academic Jewish" type stuff, and this is what the Netziv read and these are what he is talking about, quoting, etc.

[3] Torah u-Madda Journal 2 (1990), pp. 76-133

[4] See Rabbi Kirshbaum, HY"d, Zion Le-Menachem, New York 1965, pp. 251-265.

[5] Many years ago I discussed the work Mekor Baruch with my Rosh Yeshiva, Rabbi Zelig Epstein Zatzal. He told me he that he had no problem believing this story by Rabbi Epstein or others that people had issues with. He mentioned that when he was learning in the Mir in Europe, he chipped in together with a few friends to purchase a set of Mekor Baruch. When I asked him specifically about this passage of the Netziv reading newspapers on Shabbos, he reiterated that he had no problem accepting its truth. He then told me that he once spent a Shabbos at Rav Dovid Tevil Dynovsky's home whose daughter would read to him from a Yiddish newspaper. See Rabbi Nosson Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, 2, p. 1178 who quotes the same anecdote regarding Rav Dynovsky, citing Rabbi Zelig Epstein.

Rav Dynovsky's anonymously published sefer, Maamar Likrat Tzamei,[which is an attack on Zionism, Hertzl and the Mizrachi movement], is full of quotes from the various Hebrew and Yiddish newspapers of the time [see for example pp. 5, 6, 20, 26, 29, 30, 31, 35, 37, 40, 45, 46 49, 50].

Saul Leiberman considered Rav Dynovsky his main Rebbe [Making of a Godol, 2, p. 1189, based on an interview with Shraga Abramson]. Shraga Abramson who also learnt by Rav Dynovsky writes about Leiberman and Rav Dynovsky the following:

לא רחוק מעיירת מולדתו, מוטלה, היתה ישיבה קטנה שידועה היתה בשעתה, לפני מלחמת העולם הראשונה, זו ישיבת מאלטש, בראשה עמד אדם מיוחד: רב העיירה וראש הישיבה ר'דוד טעבל דיינובסקי, הי"ד, מבעלי ההגיון שבלימוד התלמוד ומבעלי המוסר מן יסד ר'ישראל סאלאנטר. היסוד שהונח לו לליברמן בישיבה זאת היינו, לימוד התורה ולימוד המוסר נשאר אצלו חזק בכל ימי חייו. וליברמן ידע את ההשפעה שהושפע בישיבה זאת, וזכר לה חסד נעוריו כל ימיו [לזכרו של שואל ליברמן, האקדמיה הלאומית הישראלית למדעים, ירושלים תשמ"ד, עמ' 24-25].

For more information on this unknown Gaon see Rabbi Nosson Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, 2, pp. 1174-1181.

Of course, it bears mentioning (as already noted On the Main Line [here]), Chief Rabbi Herzog's words, The Jewish Chronicle, February 25, 1927: "On Sabbath morning, while turning the pages of my copy of the Jewish Chronicle, my eye caught under the caption Obituary notices the name of Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk…".

See also Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, Kisvei Hagaon Rabbi Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg, 2, p. 396:

אחד מבני המשפחה הזאת הלעיז על הרב שהוא קורא עתונים בשבת.

[6] I hope to return to this journal in a future article. Meanwhile, see Yehudah Mirsky, An Intellectual and Spiritual Biography of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhaq Ha-Cohen Kook from 1865-1904, PhD dissertation, Harvard University 2007, pp. 85-99. I am not sure why this volume [as far as I can see] did not make it to the Kuntres Hateshuvot Hachadoshot of Shmuel Glick.

[7] These letters were printed from manuscript in Moriah 23 (3-4) (1999), pp. 54-60 and more recently in a new edition of the 'Ittur Sofrim' printed in 2011, pp. 97-102.

[8] Otzar R' Chaim Berlin, Shut Nishmat Chaim, 4, (2008), p. 114; Shut Nishmat Chaim, Siman 24.

[9] Rav Kook already commented about this Heter at the end of the first issue of the Ittur Sofrim. See also Shut Bikurei Shlomo siman, 3-4 for more on this topic. The Chasdei Dovid, 2, Jerusalem 1994, p. 149, on the related passage in Tosefta, is extremely important for this topic.

[10] See also Rabbi Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Ishim Veshitos, (2007), pp. 17-18; Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Shapiro, R. Moshe Shmuel Ve-doro, p. 54.

[11] Of course, there were many Poskim who were against reading newspapers even during the week. See, for example, the Chofetz Chaim's son, who writes:

מר אבא לא קרא עיתונים מעולם אף באותם שלא היה בהם מינות, ועגבים וליצנות ולא היה ניחא דעתו מקריאתי אני והיה אומר מה תמצא בעתונים רק צרות וצרות מבלי שאין בידינו להושיע, וידע אנכי זאת גם מבלעדי העתונים כי אין העולם הזה מקום של נחת וקורת רוח וכמו שאמר הכתוב... [דוגמא מדרכי אבי זצ"ל, עמ'מג.]

See also the Michtavei Chofetz Chaim #42:

Mishloach Manot of Rabbis and Scholars

March 10, 2014, 3:39 pm

≫ Next: The Ethics of the Case of Amalek: An Alternative Reading of the Biblical Data and the Jewish Tradition

≪ Previous: The Netziv, Reading Newspapers on Shabbos, in general & Censorship (part one)*

In honor of Purim, and in memory of Tovia Preschel, the Seforim Blog is happy to present the following.

Mishloach Manot of Rabbis and Scholars

ByTovia Preschel

Rabbis, scholars and writers used to send on Purim—in addition to the traditional Mishloah Manot—spiritual foodto their dear ones: a song, a study, even an entire book, they had written.

In this article only a few of such “manot” (“portions”, “gifts”) can be mentioned.

Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz, the author of Lekha Dodi—wrote a commentary on the Book of Esther and sent it as a Purim present to his future father-in-law.

In the introduction to the commentary, he tells us how he came to write it. It was in 1529, with the approach of Purim, the season for sending gifts, he felt extremely bad, for he did not know what present he could give to Yitzchak HaKohen, his future father-in-law, the father of his bride. Finally he decided to write a commentary on the Book of Esther and send it to R. Yitzchak. He was sure that he would enjoy the present, for the man was a lover of Torah. The commentary was, indeed, very well received by the entire family. Alkabetz’future brother-in-law Yosef HaKohen, even wrote a poem in its honor.

The commentary which the author called Manot HaLevi (“Gifts of the Levite”—Alkabetz was a Levite), was first printed in Venice in 1585.

Rabbi Moshe Isserles the great Halakhic authority of Ashkenazi Jewry served as rabbi and Rosh Yeshiva in Cracow. In 1556 he was forced to leave Cracow because a plague ravaged the city. He moved temporarily to Szydlowiec. Food was scarce and Purim could not be celebrated with “feasting and gladness.” However, Rabbi Isserles sought delight and joy by immersing himself in the study of the Book of Esther. He wrote a commentary on the Megillah and sent it as a Purim present to his father, who was one of the leaders of Cracow’s Jewish community. The commentary which was named by Rabbi Isserles Mahir Yayin, was first printed in Cremona, Italy, in 1559.

On Purim of the year 1629, Rabbi Moses Samson Bachrach who served as rabbi in Worms and in other communities, wrote a song for the welcoming of the Sabbath. He composed it for his wife, “that she might play it on an instrument.” The song was published in the periodical Shomer Zion HaNeeman in the year 5619 (1858-1859).

R. Yekuthiel (Gordon) ben R. Yehuda Leib of Vilna left his native country in order to study medicine in Padua, Italy. During his stay there he became a disciple of R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto. After his return to Poland he resided in Grodno and Brest Litovsk. On the occasion of Purim he sent to R. Shlomo Zalman Segal Sinzheim, a communal leader, a poem telling the story of Esther. The initial letters of the words of each line of the poem form the word Megilla (in the first line, the initial letters are read from right to left; in the second line they should be read backwards from left to right; in the third line—again from right to left; in the fourth—from left to right; and so on).

The poem was printed by L. Schlossberg in Vienna in 1879.¹

¹Rabbi Eliezer Ashkenazi, famous 16^th century rabbi who served in various communities, dedicated his commentary on the Book of Esther, called Yosef Lekah, to Don Joseph Nassi, but we do not know whether he actually sent him a copy as a gift for Purim.

משלוח מנות של מחברים

מאת טוביה פרשל

"משלוח מנות של מחברים", בשם זה פירסמתי ב"הדואר" (ח'אדר תשל"א) מאמר על יצירות ספרותיות שמחבריהן שלחו אותן מנה לפורים לרעיהם.

יורשה לי היום, לרגל חג הפורים הבא עלינו, לציין עוד כמה "מנות שבכתב".

הרב אליהו פרץ, שהיה רב באדריאנופל במאה השמונה-עשרה, כתב שירים לעת-מצוא. בפורים שלח לידידו ר'משה דאנון שיר כמנה לחג:

האין כלבבי תשורה להביא

יהא נא כתבי למשה למנה

יכופל בטעם כמו אז להעם

יטועם ויונעם למשה למנא

ומנות לחכו יתעב כדרכו

מתוקות בערכו, למשה למה נא.

השיר נדפס על-ידי אברהם דאנון בספרו "תולדות בני אברהם" (פרסבורג תרמ"ז, עמ' 123).[1]

דוד כהן צדק, בעודו ילד, שלח לאביו הסופר יוסף כהן צדק כמנה לפורים שיר בשם "שלום אסתר".

"הנני שולח בזה את פטר רחם עטי לכהן צדק...לא לכבודי, אך לכבוד בית אבא, הנני מכבדך היום במנחתי הדלה הזאת במקום משלוח מנות..." כתב במכתב שליווה את השיר.

אביו שלח באותו יום, יום הפורים, את השיר יחד עם "אגרת פורים", פיליטון על המתרחש בעולם המדיניות, לבן אחותו—וגם הדפיס שניהם, את "אגרת פורים"ואת השיר "שלום אסתר"בעתונו "המבשר" (י"ח אדר ב, תרכ"ב).

לחג הפורים תרל"ו שלח א. ב. שוויצר מאמר על המתימטיקאי והממציא, ר'אברהם שטרן עם תמונה משלו, אותה מצא בכתב, עת רוסי ישן, לחיים זליג סלונימסקי, שהיה חתנו של שטרן. הוא שלח אלה לחז"ס כמנחת-חג שיוכל "לתתה למנה גם לפני קוראי "הצפירה". ואמנם הדפיס סלונימסקי את המאמר עם התמונה בעתונו (י"ב אדר) תחת הכותרת "משלוח מנות לפורים".[2]

בגליון האחרון של "אור המזרח" (תשרי-טבת תשל"ד) פורסמו מכתב-יד שנשרד מן השואה, חידושי תורה ששלח ר'ישראל פנחס פיוטרקובסקי, אברך חסידי מלודז', בשנת תרצ"ה, משלוח מנות לחותנו. לחידושי תורה הקדים שיר בן שלושה בתים, בו הוא אומר בין היתר:

אלה הכינו מרקחות ומגדנות

ואלה בשר צלי אש שמו באגנות

ואנוכי עשות במתכונתם ידי קצרה

לאלה יין ושמן בטנים ושקדים

בכלי כסף צרוף מזוקק שבעתיים.

ואני שיקויי מי לחץ ולחמי עצבה...

על כן הוא שולח לחותנו משלוח מנות מפירות לימודו.[3]

[1] אברהם דאנון מספר בספרו כי במאה הי"ח היו בתוגרמה שכתבו שירי פורים "ותחת כי ישלח משורר לרעהו ממתקים ומגדנות...יקום מניו בפרי עטו ובניב שפתיו ובזמירות יריע לו".

בסוף "אגרת פורים"הנזכרת לקמן כותב יוסף כהן צדק לבן אחותו כי אין לו זמן "לשיר לכבודך היום, יום בו יצאו כל בעלי השיר בשירם ובזמרם", מכאן, שגם במזרח-אירופה היו, במאה הי"ט משכילים שכתבו ביום הפורים שירים לכבוד רעיהם. במאמרי הקודם הזכרתי שירים שמיכ"ל ויל"ג שלחו לידידים "משלוח מנות". בין שירי רבי"ל נמצא מכתב שכתב אותו לכבוד א. ל. מנדלשטם בפורים תר"ח ("אשכול הסופר", וארשה תר"ס, עמ' 56-57). יתכן ששלח לו אותו מנחה לחג.

[2] דברי הכותב כי מאמרו הוא הראשון על שטרן בספרות העברית אינם מדוייקים. עוד בשנת תרכ"ד הופיע ב"הנשר" (ה'וי"ג סיון) מאמר על שטרן מאת אלכסנדר חיים שור מדרהוביץ. באותו גליון של "הצפירה"בא גם מסופרו באודיסה אלימלך ווקסלר ("איש נעמי") מאמר "משלוח מנות"לקוראי העתון, ותוכנו דרשה לפורים של הרב ד"ר שוואבכר, שהיה רב בית-הכנסת של אנשי ברודי באודיסה. ברם, כפי שציינתי כבר במאמרי הראשון, הנני מביא רק יצורות שנשלחו מנות לחג לאנשים מסויימים, להוציא מן הכלל כאלה שמתחילה הוגשו מנחה לכלל ציבור הקוראים.

[3] ב"בצרון" (שבט-אדר תשל"ג) פירסם א. ר. מלאכי, מתוך ארכיון ייוו"א בניו-יורק, אגרת-ברכה מליצית ששלח איש לרעהו, שהיה מלפנים גם רבו, "משלוח מנות"לפורים.

↧

The Ethics of the Case of Amalek: An Alternative Reading of the Biblical Data and the Jewish Tradition

March 13, 2014, 11:13 am

≫ Next: פורים בגבעת שאול - דיוקה של שמועה

≪ Previous: Mishloach Manot of Rabbis and Scholars

The Ethics of the Case of Amalek: An Alternative Reading of the Biblical Data and the Jewish Tradition

by Reuven Kimelman

This study of Amalek deals with seven questions.

1. Is the battle against Amalek primarily ethnic or ethical?

2. What is the difference in reading the biblical data starting with Exodus and Deuteronomy or starting with I Samuel 15?

3. What is the evidence that the Bible already seeks ethical justification for punishing Amalek?

4. How does post-biblical literature in general and rabbinic literature in particular further the transformation of Amalek into an ethical category?

5. How is the “Sennacherib principle” applied to Amalek?

6. How is Amalek de-demonized?

7. How can Haman be an Amalekite when according to 1 Chronicles 4:43 the remnant of Amalek had been wiped out?

1. Introduction
This study deals with the wars against Amalek. The popular conception is that the Bible demands their extermination thereby providing a precedent for genocide.^[1]This reading of Amalek filters the Torah material through the prism of Saul’s battle against Amalek in the Book of Samuel. The total biblical data is much more ambiguous making the most destructive comments the exception not the rule as will be evident from a systematic analysis of all the Amalekmaterial in the Bible.

2. AMALEK
The first biblical reference to Amalek appears in Exodus 17:

7The place was named Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and because they tried the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord present among us or not?” 8Amalek came and fought with Israel at Rephidim. 9Moses said to Joshua, “Pick some men for us, and go out and do battle with Amalek. Tomorrow I will station myself on the top of the hill, with the rod of God in my hand.” Joshua did as Moses told him and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of the hill. 11Then, whenever Moses held up his hand, Israel prevailed; but whenever he let down his hand, Amalek prevailed. 12But Moses’ hands grew heavy; so they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it, while Aaron and Hur, one on each side, supported his hands; thus his hands were faithful until the sun set. 13And Joshua overwhelmed the people of Amalek with the sword. Then the Lord said to Moses, “Inscribe this in a document as a reminder, and recite in the ears of Joshua:^[2]‘I will utterly blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven.’ ” 15And Moses built an altar and named it Adonai-nissi. He said, “It means, ‘Hand upon the thro[ne] of the Lo[rd]!’ The Lord will be at war with Amalek throughout the ages.”

This text raises many questions: (1) why could Moses not keep his hands up fully aware that as long as they were raised Israel prevailed, (2) why are the hands of Moses called “faithful,” (3) why was it inscribed in a document and told specifically to Joshua that God -- not he -- is to blot out Amalek, (4) why is it God -- not Israel -- who will be at war with Amalek, and if God is waging the war (5) why does God not finish them off as was done with the Egyptians at the Sea rather than extending it throughout the ages. Finally, (6) why do the terms for God and throne appear in the Hebrew orthographically truncated? The inability to account for these matters in literal terms has generated the view that the battle between Amalek and God serves as a metaphor for the conflict between human evil and divine authority where human evil truncates, as if were, the divine presence and authority.^[3]The metaphorical reading would account for locating the war with Amalek in Exodus after a crisis of faith -- “Is the Lord present among us or not?” (17:7)^[4] and why the hands of Moses are described as faithful, namely, faith generating. It also accounts for its location in Deuteronomy after a warning against dishonest business practices that ends with “For everyone who does those things, everyone who deals dishonestly, is abhorrent to the Lord your God” (25:16).^[5]

The appearance of Amalek is thus correlated with the absence of faith and morality. Its presence signifies their absence. The position is epitomized in the rabbinic statement: “As long as the seed of Amalek is in the world neither God’s name nor His throne is whole. Were the seed of Amalek to perish from the world the Name would be whole and the throne would be whole.”^[6]In fact, an alternative version explicitly states “the wicked” instead of Amalek.^[7]Thus the war against Amalek is not against a specific ethnicity, but the human ethical condition. Such a battle ultimately can only be waged by God not Joshua. Therefore Joshua is pointedly told that what he started with the historical Amalek is not his job to finish since that can only be done by God. In sum, the more Amalek comes to embody moral evil, the more it moves from ethnicity to ethics.

It is generally assumed that the metamorphosis of Amalek from the ethnic to the ethical is a product of post-biblical exegesis, absent in the Bible itself. Alternatively, the aforementioned terminological peculiarities reflect a process of metaphorization already evident in the Bible. The possibility that the Exodus text was already understood metaphorically in the Bible may be gathered from the other references to the actual nation of Amalek which lack awareness of the Exodus text. Thus in the next reference to Amalek, in Numbers 13:29 and 14:25, they are designated by their location only. Numbers 14:43-45 warns Israel:

42Do not go up, lest you be routed by your enemies, for the Lord is not in your midst. 43 For the Amalekites and the Canaanites will be there to face you, and you will fall by the sword, inasmuch as you have turned from following the Lord· and the Lord will not be with you.” 44Yet defiantly they marched toward the crest of the hill country, though neither the Ark of the Covenant nor Moses stirred from the camp. 45And the Amalekites and the Canaanites who dwelt in that hill country came down and pummeled them to/at Hormah.

There is no allusion to the Exodus episode unless it is in the metaphorical explanation that Israel meets defeat because they turn away from God. In any case, there is no command to do away with Amalek nor any special comment about them. In Numbers 24:20, it is predicted that Amalek will be gone or perish forever without any mention that Israel will destroy them.^[8]It correlates well with the last biblical mention of Amalek in 1 Chronicles 4:43 where it is recorded that the last remnant of Amalek was done away with as part of its conflict with the tribe of Simeon, but not because of any mandated war against them.

The next reference to Amalek is in Deuteronomy 25. It adds three elements. It seeks to provide a basis for retributive justice by charging Amalek with an unprovoked ambush of the defenseless, seeking to “cut down all the stragglers in your rear.” It is precisely their immorality that triggered the demand for retribution.^[9] It also delays the battle until all the borders have been secured thereby removing it from any defense or security agenda. This process is extended by later authorities who further postponed the struggle with Amalek till the kingship was instituted and the Temple built,^[10] while others delayed it to the messianic age.^[11]And lastly, it shifts the responsibility for such retribution from God to Israel. It goes like this:

17Bear in mind what Amalek did to you on your journey, after you left Egypt—18how, he surprised you on the march, when you were famished and weary, and undeterred by fear of God, cut down all the stragglers in your rear. 19Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget!

This description, especially the expression “undeterred by fear of God,” provoked various classical commentators to level against Amalek a slew of charges such as insolence, immorality in warfare, undermining divine authority,^[12]and provoking other nations to attack Israel.^[13] Thus it was claimed that they were “justly suffering the punishment which they wrongly strove to deal to others.”^[14]Others, however, claimed that the expression “not fearing God” applied to Israel just as do the preceding expressions “famished and weary.”^[15]Faulting Israel for “not fearing God” correlates with faulting Israel for the lack of faith, in Exodus 17:7, which precipitated the onslaught of Amalek in 17:8.^[16]

Amalek next appears in The Book of Judges.^[17] He is described as a launcher of raids into the Israelite heartland without any special comment. In fact, he is sometimes associated there with Midian, who becomes the object of Israel’s wrath (ibid., 6:15), not Amalek. The absence of any special enmity for Amalek is telling.

The next reference to Amalek in 1 Samuel 15 is fateful. It places the responsibility to blot out the memory of Amalek on the king and identifies “the memory” with all the people and livestock. This position was harmonized with Deuteronomy’s position that it is the people’s responsibility by maintaining that the demand devolves upon the people only when led by a king in an act of war.^[18] It states:

1Samuel said to Saul, “I am the one the Lord sent to anoint you king over His people Israel. Therefore, heed the voice of the Lord’s words. 2‘Thus said the Lord of Hosts: I am exacting the penalty for what Amalek did to Israel, for the assault he made upon them on the road, on their way up from Egypt.’ 3“Now, go attack Amalek, and proscribe all that belongs to him. Spare no one, but kill alike men and women, infants and sucklings, oxen and sheep, camels and asses.”

There are two ways of parsing this section. Either both verse two and three are God’s, or only verse two while three is Samuel’s inference. According to the second parsing, we have here Samuel’s interpretation and application. He places the responsibility to blot out the memory of Amalek on the king, he interprets “blotting out” as physical extermination, and identifies “the memory” with all the people and livestock. Samuel thereby extends the innovation of Deuteronomy seven of including Canaanites in the proscription of Israelite idolators to the Amalekites.^[19]This move was perceived as so harsh that the talmudic rabbi, R. Mani, had King Saul himself protest the order objecting that even if the adult males were guilty the children and livestock were not.^[20] Since there is no similar objection with regard to the Amalek material in the Torah, the Torah material was not understood as including children and livestock. Saul’s objection in the Talmud must hence be against Samuel’s interpretation that the proscription of Amalek includes the destruction of those who did not partake in Amalek’s dastardly deeds. After all, Exodus faults Amalek for mounting the attack at all, whereas Deuteronomy focuses on their crude cowardice of attacking the stragglers. Both accusations are limited to those who fought.

Just as Samuel expanded the biblical data, Maimonides later on circumscribed Samuel’s position and harmonized it with Deuteronomy by limiting the attack on Amalek to the people when led by a king in an act of war.^[21] He thus ruled that the appointment of a king precedes the war against Amalek. Since he also ruled there that the destruction of Amalek precedes the building of the Temple,^[22]he ends up severely restricting its application to the period between the appointment of the king and the building of the Temple. In biblical chronology, that limits it to the reign of Saul and David. Even that, is not as limiting as the Bible itself since there is no mention of Amalek with regard to David’s failed attempt, or Solomon’s successful attempt, to build the Temple nor do either seek to do away with Amalek. Presumably, Amalek was already irrelevant or that Samuel’s understanding of Amalek was never accepted. This, as shall see, makes most sense of the biblical data.

Besides limiting the morally outrageous ruling on Amalek to a specific time, it was limited by a process of moral justification. This process begins already in Deuteronomy by spelling out their felonious behaviour and continues in the Book of Samuel. Samuel thus justifies his slaying of the king of Amalek, Agag, not by referring to crimes of long ago but to recent ones, saying: “As your sword has bereaved women, so shall your mother be bereaved among women” (I Samuel 15:33).^[23]By understanding the king as representative of the people, a four hundred year vendetta becomes a quid pro quod judicial execution. Only those who have wielded the sword will die by the sword. ^[24] Lurking behind this understanding is obviously the verse “A man shall be put to death [only] for his own sin” (Deuteronomy 24:16). A verse which was already used in the Bible (2 Kings 14:6 = 2 Chronicles 25:4) to prevent cross-generational vendettas. A similar understanding of the battle against Amalek as justified retribution appears in the reference to Amalek immediately preceding our story in 1 Samuel 14:48: “He (King Saul) was triumphant, defeating the Amalekites and saving Israel from those who have plundered it.” If the Hebrew of “and” is taken, as it sometimes is, as “namely,”^[25] then Saul’s defeat of the Amalek is in response to Amalek’s plundering of Israel.

This reading that Amalek should only get as they gave is justified by David’s tit-for-tat response to Amalek’s plundering. 1 Samuel 30 states what Amalek did to Israel:

1By the time David and his men arrived in Ziklag, on the third day, the Amalekites had made a raid into the Negev and against Ziklag; they had stormed Ziklag and burned it down. 2They had taken the women in it captive, low-born and high-born alike; they did not kill any, but carried them off and went their way.

Again Amalek attacked the weak left behind. What did David do? Not knowing what to do he inquired of the Lord:

7David said to the priest Abiathar son of Ahimelech, “Bring the ephod up to me.” 8When Abiathar brought up the ephod to David, inquired of the Lord, “Shall I pursue those raiders? Will I overtake them?” And He answered him, “Pursue, for you shall overtake and you shall rescue.”

Evidently, there was no recourse to any standing order to kill Amalek. Indeed, nothing is made of the fact that they are Amalekites. They are simply called raiders. David’s counterattack sought only to recoup his own. Amalekites who fled are left alone and the livestock is taken as spoil:

17David attacked them from before dawn until the evening of the next day; none of them escaped, except four hundred young men who mounted camels and got away. 18David rescued everything the Amalekites had taken; David also rescued his two wives. 19Nothing of theirs was missing—young or old, sons or daughters, spoil or anything else that had been carried off —David recovered everything. 20David took all the flocks and herds, which [the troops] drove ahead of the other livestock; and they declared, “This is David’s spoil.”

Note that there is no condemnation of David, à la Saul, for not slaying Amalek or for taking the spoil. Similarly, 1 Chronicles 18:11 records that David dedicated to God the spoils of Amalek^[26]just as he did to those of Edom, Moab, Ammon, and the Philistines. Again Amalek is treated as other enemies without a distinctive comment or special treatment just as is the case in Psalm 83:7-9 which lists Amalek among the many enemies of Israel.One tradition, cited by Rashi and Radak to 2 Chronicles 20:1, has the Amalekites trying to pass as Ammonites to wage war against Israel in the time of Jehoshaphat, whereas another, based on Numbers 21:1, has them trying to pass as Canaanites to exploit Israel’s vulnerability upon the death of Aaron.^[27]

The final case which shows that the treatment of Amalek was not different from other enemies is David’s encounter with the Amalekite who slew King Saul in 2 Samuel 1:

4“What happened?” asked David. “Tell me!” And he told him how the troops had fled the battlefield, and that, moreover, many of the troops had fallen and died; also that Saul and his son Jonathan were dead. 5“How do you know,” David asked the young man who brought him the news, “that Saul and his son Jonathan are dead?” 6The young man who brought him the news answered, “I happened to be at Mount Gilboa, and I saw Saul leaning on his spear, and the chariots and horsemen closing in on him. 7He looked around and saw me, and he called to me. When I responded, ‘At your service,’ 8he asked me, ‘Who are you?’ And I told him that I was an Amalekite. 9Then he said to me, ‘Stand over me, and finish me off for I am in agony and am barely alive.’ 10So I stood over him and finished him off, for I knew that he would never rise from where he was lying. Then I took the crown from his head and the armlet from his arm, and I have brought them here to my lord.” ... 13David said to the young man who had brought him the news, “Where are you from?” He replied, “I am the son of a resident alien, an Amalekite.” 14“How did you dare,” David said to him, “to lift your hand and kill the Lord’s anointed?” 15Thereupon David called one of the attendants and said to him, “Come over and strike him!” He struck him down and he died. 16And David said to him, “Your blood be on your own head! Your own mouth testified against you when you said, ‘I put the Lord’s anointed to death.’ ”

The Amalekite who informed David that he had slain Saul at his request expected a reward not retribution. The fact that he tells David that he informed Saul that he is an Amalekite indicates his obliviousness of any Israelite crusade to do away with Amalek. Indeed, as we have seen, David treated Amalek no different than any other enemy.

Samuel’s demand for the wholesale killing of Amalek thus stands as the exception not the norm. It does not even coincide with the other biblical data.After all, if Saul had slain all the Amalekites why did they remain so numerous in David’s time? In Numbers, Judges, and elsewhere in 1 Samuel (14:48, 27:8) Amalek gets the same quid pro quod treatment as other ancient enemies. This is even their lot at the hands of Saul in 1 Samuel 14:48.

The normalization of Amalek reaches its peak in the en passant record of their destruction in 1 Chronicles 4:41-43:

41 Those recorded by name came in the days of King Hezekiah of Judah and attacked their encampments and the Meunim who were found there, and wiped them out to this day, and settled in their place because there was pasture there for their flocks. 42 And some of them, five hundred of the Simeonites, went to mount Seir with Pelatiah, Neariah, Rephaiah, and Uzziel, sons of Ishi, at their head. 43 Having destroyed the last surviving Amalekites, they live there to this day.

The destruction of the remnant of Amalek is told as part of a local conflict with the tribe of Simeon during the reign Hezekiah in the late eighth century BCE. Neither king, prophet, or God is involved. No biblical precedent is noted. It simply is not a big deal. Any subsequent reference or allusion to Amalek is perforce metaphorical . The major biblical example of the metaphoraization of Amalek is Haman, the would-be exterminator of the Jews in the Book of Esther. The association of Amalek with Haman through the term ‘Agagite’ is a consequential development in the move from the ethnic to the ethical. Since, as 1 Chronicles 4:43 notes, the last Amalekites were done away centuries earlier, the association of Amalek with Haman is part of the move of identifying Amalek with their historical wannabees. Apparently, aware of the historical problem, the Greek versions of Esther 3:1 call Haman, or his father Hammedatha, a Bougaean or Macedonian not the Agagite. The Talmud itself understood Hammedatha, in Esther 3:1, 10, as an expression of moral opprobrium.^[28]

The Haman case is complex and requires extended analysis. It is common to see the conflict between Mordecai and Haman as an episode in the ongoing bout between Israel and Amalek by linking Mordecai with King Saul and Haman with Amalek. Both links are problematic. The identification of Mordecai with Saul is based on identifying Saul with “the son of Jair, the son of Shimi, the son of Kish, a man of Benjamin” (Esther 2:5). The assumption is that Kish is the Benjaminite Kish, the father of Saul (1 Samuel 9:1),^[29]yet no mention is made of the most illustrious and pertinent ancestor -- King Saul. Moreover, Jair is not a Benjamite name, but rather a son of Manasseh according to Numbers 32:41, or a priest of David according to 2 Samuel 20:26. Finally, Shimi is identified only as a member of the clan of Saul (2 Samuel 16:5), not as a descendant of Saul. Frustrated by these discrepancies, the Talmud takes Jair, Shimi, and Kish to be metaphorical epithets of Mordecai himself.^[30]

With regard to designating Haman the Agagite (Esther 3:1, 10; 5:8; 8:1, 3, 5; 9:10, 24), note that Haman is not designated an Amalekite as other Amalekites are but only as an Agagite.^[31]Moreover, the antagonism of Haman for Mordecai is attributed to Mordecai’s provocative behavior (Esther 3:2-5), a stance he maintains even after the decree (Esther 5:9), and not to Haman’s genealogy. There is no evidence that Haman on his own had it in for the Jews. Similarly, the Greek Addition A to Esther (v. 17) attributes Haman’s ire against Mordecai and his people to Mordecai having exposed the plot against the king of the two eunuchs who, according to Josippon 4, were relatives of Haman. He only becomes subsequently the nefarious model of classical Judeophobia; ticked off by one Jew he seeks to eliminate all Jews.

Note that Haman is not executed because of his genealogy, but because of his murderous machinations. He is specifically hanged on the gallows he prepared for Mordecai as an expression of poetic justice and not for any long standing vendetta. As Samuel justifies Agag’s execution by his iniquitous acts so does the Book of Esther justify Haman’s by his. Neither is punished for the sins of their fathers. Similarly, the Book of Esther no more concludes with a mandate to remember Amalek than does the story of Saul and Agag. In both cases by doing away with the enemy, in Haman’s case also his sons, there remains no remnant in the story itself and the case is closed. Even Haman’s sons are slain not because of their father but because, as 9:5-10 notes, they numbered among the foes of the Jews. Had this been part of a historical vendetta, a tit-for-tat allusion to the impalement of Saul’s sons by the vindictive Gibeonites in 2 Samuel 21:9 would have been in order. Clearly, the moral structure of the book is predicated on a measure for measure system not on any historical retribution or squaring of accounts.

Instructively, if not ironically, Haman’s plan “to destroy, massacre, and exterminate all the Jews, young and old, children and women” (Esther 3:13) smacks of Samuel’s order to Saul: “kill alike men and women, infants and sucklings” (1 Samuel 15:3). In pointing out the moral absurdity of Haman’s designs there is an oblique critique of Samuel’s. Josephus indeed states that Haman’s hatred of the Jews derives from this incident,^[32]as if to say that the Jews are now getting as they gave. A vendetta agains Amalek has become a vendetta against the Jews. The Midrash, however, sees this as a preemptive comeuppance arguing that “God gave Amalek a taste of his own future work.”^[33]The Midrash is extending Samuel’s moral justification for slaying Agag. Just as Samuel justified killing Agag because he killed others, so the Midrash justifies the order for wiping out Amalek because Haman ordered the wiping out of the Jews. Not able to anchor Amalek’s extraordinary punishment in any prior behavior, the Midrash perforce extends its moral compass to include Amalek’s future behavior. In any case, the issue remains moral.

This moral self-criticism extends to comments made about Amalek’s mother Timna. Accordingly to the Talmud, her efforts to convert were rejected by all three Patriarchs. Wanting to join this people at all cost, she marries Isaac’s grandson, through Esau, Eliphaz. The fruit of this relationship is Amalek who goes on to aggrieve Israel for their having ticked off his mother Timna.^[34]The insight is that Israel’s lack of receptivity to converts can trigger a resentment that leads to retributive vindictiveness.

The allusion to the Saul-Amalek incident explains another relevant peculiarity of the Book of Esther. Thrice, it states that “they did not lay hands on the spoils” (9:10, 15, 16) of those persons slain in trying to kill the Jews even though the royal edict (8:11) explicitly permitted it. Since the original decree specifically mentioned (3:13) the right of spoils for the slain Jews why did the Jews not act in kind? Unless it was to avoid transgressing the prohibition against taking the spoils of Amalek mentioned in 1 Samuel 15:3. But the murderous Persians are not of Amalek stock,^[35] unlike the sons of Haman where the same scruple was adhered to (see Esther 9:10). If they are not of Amalek why were they treated as if they were? if not because they were Amalek in character. Despite no chance for spoils, now that government support had been rescinded, they pressed on to kill the Jews. Wanting to kill Jews for its own sake, they are dubbed thrice-fold not just the enemies of the Jews, but also their haters (Esther 9:1, 5, 16).^[36]Acting like Amalek, they are treated as Amalek, no longer an ethnic designation but an ethical metaphor.^[37]

Maimonides also makes no special provision for Amalek when he argues that all wars must be preceded by overtures of peace indicating that were Amalek to sue for peace they would not be subject to destruction.^[38]The ruling that all must be offered terms of peace flows from the following Midrash:

God commanded Moses to make war on Sihon, as it is said, ‘Engage him in battle’ (Deuteronomy 2:24), but he did not do so. Instead he sent messengers . . . to Sihon . . . with an offer of peace (Deuteronomy 2:26). God said to him: ‘I commanded you to make war with him, but instead you began with peace; by your life, I shall confirm your decision. Every war upon which Israel enters shall begin with an offer of peace, as it is written, “When you approach a city to attack it, you shall offer it terms of peace” (Deuteronomy 20:10).^[39]

Since Joshua is said to have extended such an offer to the Canaanites,^[40]and Numbers 27:21 points out Joshua’s need for inquiring of the priestly Urim and Tumim to assess the chances of victory, it is evident that also divinely-commanded wars are predicated on overtures of peace as well as on assessments of the outcome.^[41]Moreover, the cross-generational struggle against Amalek, according to Maimonides, is limited to Amalek maintaining the practices of their biblical ancestors of rejecting the Noachide laws which stipulate the norms of human decency and civil society.^[42]Were Amalek to accept them they would achieve the status of other Noachites. Again morality trumps biology.

The concern with the humanity of the enemy is also a factor. Referring to Deuteronomy 21:10ff. Josephus says the legislator of the Jews commands “showing consideration even to declared enemies. He . . . forbids even the spoiling of fallen combatants; he has taken measures to prevent outrage to prisoners of war, especially women.”^[43]Apparently reflecting a similar sensibility, R. Joshua claimed that his biblical namesake took pains to prevent the disfigurement of fallen Amalekites,^[44]whereas David brought glory to Israel by giving burial to his enemies.^[45]It is this consideration for the humanity of the enemy that forms the basis of Philo’s explanation for the biblical requirement in Numbers 31:19 of expiation for those who fought against Midian. He writes:

For though the slaughter of enemies is lawful, yet one who kills a man, even if he does so justly and in self-defense and under compulsion, has something to answer for, in view of the primal common kinship of mankind. And therefore, purification was needed for the slayers, to absolve them from what was held to have been a pollution.^[46]

The position that the negation of Amalek is ethical not ethnic is also reflected in the following talmudic anecdote about Amalek’s ancestor Esau^[47]who was later identified with Rome:

Antoninus (the Roman Emperor) asked Rabbi (Judah the Prince): Will I enter the world to come?” “Yes,” said Rabbi. “But,” said Antoninus, “is it not written, ‘And there will be no remnant to the house of Esau’ ” (Obadiah 18). (Rabbi replied) “The verse refers only to those who act as Esau acted.” We have learned elsewhere likewise: “And there will be no remnant of the house of Esau,” might have been taken to apply to all (of the house of Esau), therefore Scriptures says specifically -- “of the house of Esau,” to limit it only to those who act as Esau acted.^[48]

Once the criterion becomes behavior and not birth, the Talmud can claim that even the descendants of Haman the Amalekite became students of Torah.^[49]Following suit, Maimonides ruled: “We accept converts from all nations of the world.”^[50] Radak even entertains the possibility that the Amalekite who refers to himself as a ger in 2 Samuel 1:13 meant a convert to Judaism. For him and Maimonides, the wiping out of Amalek can be accomplished by the wiping out of Amalekite qualities. This is why Maimonides states with regard to Amalek: “It is also a positive commandment to remember always his evil deeds.”^[51]He adopts the position of Sifrei Deuteronomy^[52]that “remember” is fulfilled with the mouth, and “do not forget” is fulfilled through the heart. No act of violence is mandated against Amalek. So why, according to him, was Amalek punished so harshly to begin with? To deter future Amalek wannabees.^[53]

As Amalek became more and more a metaphor for human evil, the eradication of Amalek from the national-historic plane was shifted to the metaphysical and psycho-spiritual.^[54] The interioralization of Amalek imposes the duty of eradication on all. This shift parallels the aforementioned rabbinic reading of the Amalek episode in Exodus if not that of the Bible itself.

In the post-biblical period the shift from ethnicity to ethics is total. In both the Saul-Amalek and Haman episodes, Scripture indicates that no one remained. Their ethnicity was also rendered operationally defunct by applying the same “Sennacherib principle” to them that was applied to the long gone Canaanites.^[55] This principle was based on the fact that Sennacherib, the king of Assyria, erased the national identity of those he conquered which included all of the nations of ancient Canaan and surrounding nations,^[56] as he says: “I have erased the borders of the peoples; I have plundered their treasures, and exiled their vast populations” (Isaiah 10:13). Independent of the “Sennacherib principle,” others limited the moral relevance of the command against Amalek by restricting the waging of a war of total destruction against Amalek to King Saul.^[57]Such limitations best reflects the total biblical data. Applying the “Sennacherib principle” and limiting the commandment to a specific period in the past or postponing it to the messianic age effectively removes the case of Amalek from the post-biblical ethical agenda.

In sum, there are four ways of rendering Amalek operationally defunct:
1. The recognition that the mandate for their extermination was a minority position based on Na”kh (1 Samuel 15), not confirmed in the rest of the Bible indeed implicitly denied.
2. The realization that the process of transmuting Amalek into a metaphor for human evil is rooted in the Torah (Exodus 17).
3. The limitation of the conflict to King Saul and/or postponing the battle to the messianic era
4. The application of the same “Sennacherib principle” to Amalek that was applied to the long gone Canaanites.

These four overlapping stratagems of the biblical and post-biblical exegetical tradition mitigate the ruling regarding the destruction of the Amalekites. This trumping of genealogy by ethics helps account for the absence of any drive to exterminate or dispossess Amalek even when Israel was at the height of its power under the reigns of David and Solomon.

^[1]On the practice of genocide in antiquity, see Louis Feldman, “Remember Amalek!”: Vengeance, Zealotry, and Group Destruction in the Bible according to Philo, Pseudo-Philo, and Josephus, (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 2004), pp. 2-6.

^[2]Taking kee as introducing direct speech; see The Hebrew and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament, eds. L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, etal., (3 vols., Leiden: Brill, 1994-1996), 2:471a; and Amos Ḥעakham, SeferShmot, (2 vols., Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1991), 1:329a.

^[3]See Pesiktade-RavKahana 3; and PesiktaRabbati 12.

^[4] Which is how the Midrash takes it; see MidrashTanḥעuma, Be-Shalaḥע25, p. 92; and Pesiktade-RavKahana 3.8, ed. Mandelbaum, 1:47 with parallels in n. 5. Otherwise it should probably be located several chapters later after the Sinaitic narrative.

^[5]So Pesikta de Rav-Kahana 3.4, ed. Mandelbaum, 1:42-43:

R. Banai, citing R. Huna, began his discourse [on remembering Amalek] with the verse “A false balance is an abomination to the Lord ...” (Proverbs 11:1). And R. Banai, citing R. Huna, proceeded: When you see a generation whose measures and balances are false, you may be certain that a wicked kingdom will come to wage war against such a generation. And the proof? The verse “A false balance is an abomination to the Lord” ... which is immediately followed by a verse that says, “The immoral kingdom will come and bring humiliation [to Israel]” (Prov. 11:2).

See Rashi and Abarbanel to Deuteronomy 25:17 with Tosafot to B. T. Kiddushin33b, s. v. ve-eima.

^[6]PesiktaDe-RavKahana3.16, ed. Mandelbaum, 1:53 with parallels in n. 8.

^[7]See Menaḥem Kasher, Torah Shelemah (Jerusalem: Beth Torah Shelemah, 1949-1991), 14:272f.

^[8]This may be what allowed Josephus (Antiquities 3:60) to say that Moses predicted that the Amalekites would perish with utter annihilation.

^[9]As spelled out in the end of the first stanza of the kerovah of Parshat Zakhor; see the Yotzerfor ParshatZakhor in The Complete ARTScroll Siddur for Weekday/ Sabbath/ Festival, Nusach Ashkenaz (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 1990), p. 880f.

^[10]SifreiDeuteronomy 67, T. Sanhedrin 4.5, B. T. Sanhedrin 20b.

^[11]The eschatological reading may already be in the Dead Sea Scroll 4Q252, 4.1-3; see Louis Feldman, “Remember Amalek!”: Vengeance, Zealotry, and Group Destruction in the Bible according to Philo, Pseudo-Philo, and Josephus(Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 2004), p. 52f. It is clearly already tannaitic. Rabbi Joshua reads Exodus 17:6 to mean “When God will sit on His throne and His kingship is established -- at that time will the Lord war on Amalek.” And according to Rabbi Eliezer: “When will their names be blotted out? When idolatry is uprooted along with its devotees,when the Lord is alone in the world and His kingdom lasts forever-- then the Lord will go out and war on those people” (Mekhiltade-RabbiIshmael, ed. Horowitz-Rabin, p. 186). See the version and discussion in Menahem Kahana, The Two Mekhiltot on the Amalek Portion [Hebrew] (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1999), p. 239f. The Aramaic translation, TargumJonathan, takes the word “end” in Numbers 24:20, which refers to Amalek, as an allusion to the Messianic era. For medievals who also postponed the conflict to the messianic period, see Moses b. Jacob of Coucy, Sefer Mitsvot Gadol (SeMaG), negative commandment #226; and R. David b. Zimra (RaDBaZ) with MaimonideanGlosses to Hilkhot Melakhim 5:5.This probably includes Maimonides since he made the battle with Amalek contingent upon a king, see his “Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 1:2.

^[12]See Nachmanides, Abarbanel, and Sforno ad loc., and Exodus 17:16 along with Josephus, Antiquities4.304.

^[13]See Josephus, Antiquities3.41; Mekhilta de-Rabbi Ishmael, Amalek 1 (ed. Horovitz-Rabin), p. 176; Mekilta de-Rabbi Shimon bar Yohai 81 (ed. Epstein-Melamed) 119; and the end of the second stanza of the kerovah of Parshat Zakhor in The Complete ARTScroll Siddur for Weekday/ Sabbath/ Festival, Nusach Ashkenaz (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 1990), p. 882f.

^[14]Philo, TheLifeofMoses, 1:218 (LCL 6:391).

^[15]Mekhilta, Amalek 1, ed. Horowitz-Rabin, p. 116, l. 9 (see p. 116, lines 3 and 18). See Ralbag (Gersonides) as cited by Abarbanel ad loc.

^[16]See MidrashTannaim, ad loc., ed. Hoffmann, p. 170; and Hizkuni ad loc.

^[17]Judges 3:13; 6:3-5, 33; 7:12; 12:15. The word עמלקappears also in 5:14, but, based on the Septuagint, probably should be emended to עמק.

^[18]Based on B. T. Sanhedrin 20b, Maimonides explicitly states that the commandment devolves only on the collectivity not the individual; see his BookofCommandments, end of positive commandments #248. In his “Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 1:2, based on 1 Samuel 15:1-3, Maimonides rules that the appointment of a king precedes the war against Amalek. He also rules there that the destruction of Amalek precedes the building of the Temple; see SifreiDeuteronomy 67, ed. Finkelstein, p. 132, with n. 4. Nonetheless, there is no mention of Amalek with regard to David’s failed attempt, or Solomon’s successful attempt, to build it. Presumably, Amalek had already disappeared or was irrelevant.

^[19]See Michael Fishbane, The JPS Bible Commentary Haftarot(Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 2002), p. 344f.

^[20]B. T. Yoma22b; and YalqutShimoni 2:121 (Genesis--Former Prophets [10 vols., ed. Heyman-Shiloni, Jerusalem: Mosad Harav Kook, 1973-1999], FormerProphets, p. 242 with parallels).

^[21]Based on B. T. Sanhedrin 20b, Maimonides explicitly states that the commandment devolves only on the collectivity not the individual; see his BookofCommandments, end of positive commandments #248.

^[22]“Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 1:2; see SifreiDeuteronomy 67, ed. Finkelstein, p. 132, with n. 4.

^[23]This sentiment leads, in the nineteenth century, Avraham Sachatchover (Bornstein) to reject the idea that the seed of Amalek is punished for the sins of their fathers, for it is written (Deuteronomy 24:16): “Fathers shall not be put to death for children, neither shall children be put to death for fathers." Thus the punishment of Amalek is contingent upon their maintaining the ways of their fathers (AvneiNezer, part 1: OrahעḤayyim [New York: Hevrat Nezer, 1954] 2.508).

^[24]As Maimonides states: “Amalek who hastened to use the sword should be exterminated by the sword” (GuideforthePerplexed 3:41. ed. Pines, p. 566); see Eugene Korn, “Moralization in Jewish Law: Genocide, Divine Commands and Rabbinic Reasoning,” TheEdahJournal5:2 (Sivan 5766/2006), pp. 2-11, especially p. 9.

^[25]See TheHebrewandAramaicLexiconoftheOldTestament, eds. L. Koehler, W. Baumgartner, etal., (3 vols., Leiden: Brill, 1994-1996) 1:258a

^[26]Just as Saul, in 1 Samuel 15:15b, claimed was his intention.

^[27]See NumbersRabbah 19.20, YalkutShimoni 1:764 with Menahem Kasher, TorahShleimah 41:196, nn. 4-5.

^[28]צורר בן צורר, see P. T. Yevamot 2:5 with PeneiMoshe ad loc.; and AgadatEsther 3.1, ed. Buber, p. 26, along with Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, 7 vols. (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1968) 6:461, n. 88, and 462f., n. 93.

^[29]See MidrashPsalms 7.13-15, and B. T. MoedQatan 16b

^[30]B. T. Megillah12b; see MenachemKasher, TorahSheleimah, MegillatEster (Jerusalem 1994), p. 60, n. 45.

^[31]Accordingly, TargumRishon adds “Agag son of Amalek” and TargumSheinei traces the genealogy all the way back to Esau echoing Genesis 36:12.

^[32]Josephus, Antiquities 11.212

^[33]PesiktaRabbati 13.7, ed. Friedmann, p. 55b; ed. Ulmer, 13.15, p. 205. For the demonization of Amalek, see the Yotzer for ParshatZakhor, BirkatAvot, found in The Complete ARTScroll Siddur for Weekday/ Sabbath/ Festival, Nusach Ashkenaz (Brooklyn: Mesorah Publications, 1990), pp. 880-883.

^[34]See B. T. Sanhedrin 99b, MidrashHa-Gadol, Genesis, ed. Margulies, p. 609

^[35]PaceTargumRishon 9:6, 12; Rabbenu Baḥעyעa to Exodus 17:19 and Ralbag to 1 Samuel 15:6

^[36]The combination of “enemies and haters” recurs in the blessing after the Shema of the evening service referring to Israel’s opponents in general not just the Egyptians.

^[37]This is similar to the classical Soloveitchikean position which identifies Amalek with those groups whose policy with regard to the Jewish people is “Let us wipe them out as a nation” (Psalm 83:5). See the discussion of Norman Lamm, “Amalek and the Seven Nations: A Case of Law vs. Morality,” in WarandPeaceintheJewishTradition, ed. Lawrence Schiffman and Joel Wolowelsky (New York: Yeshiva University Press, 2007), p. 215.

^[38]“Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 6.1, 4. This became the normative position; see Aviezer Ravitsky, “Prohibited Wars in Jewish Tradition,” ed. Terry Nardin, TheEthicsofWarandPeace (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), pp. 115-127.

^[39]Deuteronomy Rabbah 5.13 and MidrashTanhעuma, Sעav 5.

^[40]“Who came and told the Cannanites the Israelite were coming to their land?

R. Ishmael b. R. Nahman said, ‘Joshua sent them three orders: “He who wants to leave may leave; to make peace may make peace, to make war against us may make war.” ’ The Girgashites left ... The Gibeonites made peace... Thirty-one kings made war and fell” (Leviticus Rabbah 17.6, ed. Margulies, p. 386 and parallels).

^[41]The position that all wars must be preceded by an overture of peace gained widespread acceptance; see Maimonides, “Laws of Kings and Their Wars” 6:1, 5; Nahmanides and Rabbenu Baḥaya to Deuteronomy 20:10; SeMaGpositive mitzvah #118; Sefer Ha-Hעinukhmitzvah #527 along with Minḥat Hעinukh, ad loc.; and possibly Sa’adyah Gaon, see Yeruḥעam Perla, Sefer Ha-Mitsvot Le-Rabbenu Sa’adyah (3 vols., Jerusalem, 1973) 3:251-252. Cf. Tosafot, B. T. Gittin 46a, s.v. keivan.

^[42]See Maimonides, “Laws of Kings and Their Wars” 6.4, with Joseph Caro, KesefMishnah, ad loc.; and Avraham Bornstein, AvneiNezer, to Oraḥע Ḥעayyim508.

^[43]Josephus, Contra Apion II. 212-13.

^[44]Mekhilta, Amalek 1, ed. Horovitz-Rabin, p. 181; ed. Lauterbach, 2:147; and Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin, Ha‘ameq Davar to Deuteronomy 17:3.

^[45]See Rashi and Radak to 2 Samuel 8:13. In general, no one is to be left unburied. Deut. 21:23 allows for no exceptions; see B. T. Sanhedrin 46b with Saul Lieberman, “Some Aspects of After life in Early Rabbinic Literature, in Harry Austryn Wolfson Jubileee Volume (Jerusalem: American Academy of Jewish Research, 1965), pp. 495-532, 516.

^[46]Philo, Moses 1.314.

^[47]See Genesis 36:12, 16; I Chronicles 1:36.

^[48]B. T. AvodahZarah 10b. A later midrash even applies “Your priests O Lord,” (Psalm 132:9, or 2 Chronicles 6:41) to Antoninus the son of Severus; see BetHa-Midrasch, ed. Jellinek (Jerusalem: Wahrmann, 1967) 3:28; and YalqutShimoni 2:429. He is also included among the ten rulers who became proselytes; see Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, 7 vols. (Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society, 1968), 6:412, n. 66.

^[49]B. T. Sanhedrin 96b, B. T. Gittin 57b. For a range of modern traditional opinion on the issue, see Yoel Weiss, “Be-Inyan Mi-Benei Banav Shel Haman Lamdu Torah Be-Benei Beraq, Ve-Ha’im Meqablim Gerim Me-Zera Amaleq,” KovetsGinatVeradim 1.1 (5768 [20008]), pp. 193-196.

^[50]“Laws of Prohibited Relations,” 12:17.

^[51]“Laws of Kings and Their Wars” 5.5. Not dealing with messianic reality, the subsequent codes, Arba‘ah Turim and the ShulkhanArukh, make no mention of Amalek’s elimination only the possible (!) requirement of reading it from the Torah; see Joseph Karo, ShulkhanArukh, OrakhHayyim 685:7.

^[52]296; see Finkelstein edition, p. 314, l. 8, with n. 8.

^[53]GuideforthePerplexed3:41 (ed. Pines, p. 566).

^[54]See Zohar 3:281b. The approach gained currency in medieval philosophy, in medieval and Renaissance biblical exegesis, in Kabbalah, in Hasidic literature, and in other modern traditional commentaries; see Eliot Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006), pp. 134-35; Alan Cooper, “Amalek in Sixteenth Century Jewish Commentary: On the Internalization of the Enemy,” in The Bible in the Light of Its Interpreters: Sarah Kamin Memorial Volume, ed. Sara Japhet (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1994), pp. 491-93; Avi Sagi, “The Punishment of Amalek in Jewish Tradition: Coping with the Moral Problem,” TheHarvardTheologicalReview, 87 (1994), pp. 323-346, esp. 331-36; and Yaakov Meidan, AlDerekhHa-Avot (Alon Shvut: Tevunot, 2001), pp. 332-35.

^[55]See Elimelech (Elliot) Horowitz, “From the Generation of Moses to the Generation of the Messiah: Jews against Amalek and his Descendants,” [Hebrew] Zion 64 (1999), pp. 425-454; and Sagi, “The Punishment of Amalek in Jewish Tradition: Coping with the Moral Problem,” op. cit. pp. 331-336, who cites Yosef Babad, Minḥat Ḥinukh, 2. 213 (commandment 604); and Avraham Karelitz, Ḥazon Ish Al Ha-Rambam (Bnei Brak, 1959), p. 842.

^[56]See M. Yadayim 4:4, T. Yadayim 2:17 (ed. Zuckermandel, p. 683), T. Qiddushin 5:4 B. T. Berakhot28a, B. T. Yoma 54a, with OsעarHa-Posqim, EvenHa-Ezer 4.

^[57]See Minhעat Hעinukh to SeferHa-Hעinukh, end of mitzvah #604; and Avraham Karelitz, ḤעעazonIshAlHa-Rambam (Bnei Brak, 1959), p. 842.

↧

פורים בגבעת שאול - דיוקה של שמועה

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פורים בגבעת שאול - דיוקה של שמועה

מאת הרב שלמה הופמן

עורך השנתון 'ירושתנו'

silhof@neto.bezeqint.net

ירושלים היא כיום העיר היחידה הידועה בבירור כמוקפת חומה מימות יהושע בן נון שקריאת המגילה נעשית בה ביום ט"ו לחודש אדר.

עם היציאה מן החומות ובניית השכונות החדשות סביב העיר הישנה, התעוררה השאלה עד להיכן מתפשטת ירושלים - אם להחשיבה כחלק בלתי נפרד ממנה אם מדין "סמוך ונראה".

דיון זה עדיין לא נפשט בשכונותיה הרחוקות יותר של ירושלים - כשבחוד חנית הויכוח עומדת לה שכונת רמות הנעשית בכל שנה ושנה אגודות אגודות. קונטרסים וספרים ללא מספר נדפסו בענין. באחד הספרים שחובר על ידי תושב רמות[1], מציין המחבר בשער הספר את מקום מושבו: "רמות על יד ירושלים" - ומינה אתה כבר למד את דעתו והכרעתו בענין.

אמנם בשכונותיה הקרובות לירושלים העתיקה והנמשכות מהן, הוכרע המנהג וההלכה לעשות את יום הפורים בחמשה עשר בו.

למול הכרעה זו, ניצב, כדעת יחידאה[2], רבי יחיאל מיכל טוקצינסקי בעל 'לוח לארץ ישראל'הוותיק, אשר קבע בספרו[3]וכך הונצח בלוחו עד עצם היום הזה:

ובנוגע לירושלים החדשה - דע ש"הסמוך ונראה לכרך"באורו הסמוך ונראה לעיר העתיקה. וכל שכונה הרחוקה יותר ממיל מחומת ירושלים מימי יהושע... אין דינן כהכרך...

אף הוא מוסיף ומציין את הגבולות המדוייקים בשטח:

ולדעתנו מן בית זקנים הספרדי והלאה למערב העיר (כיום רחוב "גשר החיים"ע"ש הגרימ"ט זצ"ל)... - צריכים לנהוג כבעיירות הספקות...

וכמנהל מוסדות עץ חיים ונכסיה - ובכללם שכונת 'עץ חיים'העומדת מחוץ לגבולות ירושלים שקבע - עשה מעשה למעשה, ובלוחו - הממשיך לצאת לאור על ידי בנו וכיום ע"י נכדו, מופיעה מידי שנה בשנה ההודעה הקבועה דלהלן:

לידיעת האורחים בירושלים

בשכונת עץ חיים (מול התחנה המרכזית בכניסה לירושלם) קורין המגילה בברכה בליל ויום י"ד. תפילת ערבית שעה... תפילת שחרית שעה...

כפי שניתן להבין מכותרת ההודעה, אין מנין זה משמש אלא את "האורחים בירושלים", וכבר העירו והעידו כי: "גם שם כמדומה שאין אחד מבני המקום גופא מעיז לברך, אלא אחד הבא מעיר פרוזה וחוזר לשם בלילה וחוזר ובא למחרת בבוקר"[4].

רש"י זוין בדברי בקרותו על הלוח תמה וכותב: "יש להתפלא על המחבר: כל שנה ושנה הוא חוזר ומפרסם דעתו זו בלוחותיו, בשעה שהוא רואה ויודע שלמעשה נוהגים אחרת. כל ירושלים החדשה קוראת בט"ו"[5].

באוירת הימים, יובא תיאורו של מחבר נוסף התמה על דעת הרב טוקצינסקי, ומחדד את תמיהתו באמצעות משל:

...במחילת כבוד תורתו אינני מבין את דבריו בענין סוף מהלך מיל מחומת ירושלים, דלפי דבריו נגמר המיל באמצעו של רח'גשר החיים וכי רח'זה חוצה בין סמוך לירושלים לבין רחוק מירושלים, זאת אומרת שהבתים העומדים במזרחו של רח'זה הם סמוכים לירושלים והבתים העומדים במערבו של רח'זה הם רחוקים מירושלים.

ובכן ברח'זה ביום י"ד אדר קרה מעשה כעלעלם, יהודי היושב במס' 9 ברח'זה קרה שבליל י"ד אדר לקח את המגילה ללכת לבית הכנסת "זכרון בתיה"במס' 12 במערבו של רח'זה בכן הוא צריך לשמוע את המגילה בליל י"ד, אמנם בבואו לבית הכנסת הנ"ל לעגו ממנו כל המתפללים באמרם אליו הלא פורים היוא בליל מחרת ולא בלילה הזה, כמובן שזה היהודי הטמין את המגילה התפלל ערבית כרגיל מבלי הזכרת "על הנסים", זה היהודי חזר לביתו לאכול ארוחת ערב כרגיל, באמצע ברכת המזון שמעה אשתו שאינו מזכיר על הנסים צעקה עליו על שאינו מזכיר על הנסים הלא פורים היום הזכיר על הנסים והחליט שהיום פורים, בבקר הלך לבית הכנסת הנ"ל ומגילה בידו בכדי לשמוע את קריאת המגילה, והנה המקרה של אתמול בלילה חזר גם היום והפעם נזפו בו קשות היתכן שיהודי יתבסם לפני תפלת שחרית, וזה היהודי הטמין את המגילה התפלל שחרית בלי הזכרת על הנסים וחזר לביתו לאכול ארוחת בקר כרגיל, אחרי הארוחה אמר לשאתו שהוא הולך לעבודתו, אשתו שמעה זאת צעקה והזעיקה את השכנים בקול גדול ראו בעלי נהיה עבריין אינו שומר את מצוותיו של יום הפורים, בכן זה האומלל נפשו בשאלתו שיורו לו מה לעשות שיינצל מהלעג של חבריו ומצעקותיה של אשתו, זה סיפור חלמאי שקרה ביום י"ד אדר ברח'גשר החיים בירושלים[6].

על ההכרעה בשכונת גבעת שאול, מספר הרב שלמה זלמן זוננפלד בספרו על תולדות זקנו רבי יוסף חיים זוננפלד, תחת הכותרת "דייקן בלשון רבו":

כאשר נתעורר ענין קריאת המגילה בשכונות החדשות אשר בפרברי ירושלים, והרב מיכל טוקצינסקי הנהיג קריאת המגילה בי"ד ובט"ו בשכונת "עץ חיים", וטען שכן יש לנהוג גם בבית היתומים דיסקין, בי"ד בברכה ובט"ו בלא ברכה.

טען כנגדו הגרא"י קוק ואמר: הלא רוצים אנחנו להרחיב את גבולותיה של ירושלים בבחינת "פרזות תשב ירושלים", ואתה בא לצמצמה.

פנו למורנו ושאלו לדעתו, והוא השיב:

"יודע אני כי מורי ורבי הרב מבריסק רכש את המגרש שעליו עומד בית היתומים, והוא כתב אז ופירסם שהוא רכש מגרש בירושליםעבור בית היתומים, ואם אתם קורין את המגילה בבית היתומים בי"ד, נמצאתם אומרים ששם לא ירושלים, והרי רבינו דייקן בדבריו היה, ומזה אנו מסקינן להלכה, לקרוא רק בט"ו ולא בי"ד"[7].

משמועה זו למדים אנו, כי לכשנדייק בלשון המהרי"ל דיסקין, נמצא כי הורה בבירור כי שכונת גבעת שאול - בכלל ירושלים היא.

שמועה זו התפרסמה ואף נתקבלה להלכה, הרב אבגדֹר נבנצאל רבה של ירושלים העתיקה השיב כסמך לשאלה שנשאל:

...שאר ירושלים ...מה שקורין בה מגילה בט"ו, הוא מפני שהכל נמשך אחר העיר העתיקה, כי בתים שמחברים. כשבנו את "בית היתומים דיסקין"ואז עוד לא היו בתים שיחברו לשאר העיר, נשאל מרן רבי יוסף חיים זוננפלד זצ"ל על זמן קריאת המגילה שם, והשיב שהיות וכשהמהרי"ל דיסקין אסף כסף לבנות בית יתומים, הוא אמר שהוא אוסף כסף בשביל בית יתומים "בירושלים"אז זה ירושלים...[8]

אלא שדא עקא!

הרב נפתלי צבי פרוש-גליקמן, מספר בזכרונותיו על תולדות בית היתומים דיסקין:

בית היתומים דיסקין נוסד בשנת תר"מ על ידי מרן הגאון קוה"ק רבי יהושע ליב דיסקין זצוק"ל גאב"ד בריסק... ראשיתו של המוסד באחת החצרות של הרובע היהודי בעיר העתיקה, רק בשנת תרנ"ד, רכש עבורו הגאון מבריסק זצוק"ל בית מיוחד...

לאחר פטירתו של מרן הגאון זצוק"ל עלה לירושלים, בנו יחידו הגאון רבי יצחק ירוחם דיסקין זצ"ל שפרש חסותו על מוסד מיוחד במינו זה...

בשנת תרפ"ד זכיתי להתמנות להיות גבאי וחבר ההנהלה של בית היתומים...

כאשר עלתה על הפרק שאלת רכישת אדמה לבנין בית היתומים, הוזמנתי על ידי הגר"י דיסקין לבדוק את ההצעות השונות ולחוות את דעתי... לאחר מכן הוצעו שני מגרשים אחרים, האחד המקום שעליו בנוי היום לתפארת הבנין הגדול של בית יתומים דיסקין... המנהלים העדיפו את המקום הראשון...[9]

היכן היה ה"בית המיוחד"ש"רכש עבורו הגאון מבריסק זצוק"ל" - לא נתפרש כאן, אך כמובן לא היה זה בשכונת גבעת שאול - שנוסדה רק בשנת תר"ע[10].

ומעניין לציין אל דברי ההיסטוריון וחוקר בתי ירושלים ושכונותיה, שבתי זכריה, אודות בית הספר תחכמוני:

מוסד מפורסם זה התקיים בשכונה [-מקור ברוך] עשרות שנים. בית הספר הגיע אל השכונה בשנת תרפ"ט (1929)... מלכתחילה נבנו בנייניו של בית הספר עבור בית היתומים דיסקין, אך משום מה לא עבר בית היתומים למקום, ובזמן מלחמת העולם הראשונה שימש הבניין כקרסטין לצבא התורכי. לאחר מכן שימש המקום לתעשיות שונות... היום שוכן בו תלמוד תורה המסורה...[11]

את מקורותיו - אין ש'זכריה מציין, אך מבין השיטין ניתן לשער כי בניית בנין זה בעבור בית היתומים - אמנם היתה לפני מלחמת העולם הראשונה, אבל לאחר פטירת הרי"ל דיסקין (שנפטר בשנת תרנ"ח).

על אחת כמה וכמה שרכישת המגרש בגבעת שאול - נעשתה שנים רבות לאחר מכן - וכאמור בעדותו וזכרונותיו של רנ"צ פרוש-גליקמן - לאחר שנת תרפ"ד.

המעשה ביסודו - היֹה היה, אלא שכדרכן של שמועות, השתנה בהורקה מכלי אל כלי.

ואם אמנם רבי יוסף חיים זוננפלד, "דייקן בלשון רבו"היה, אך מעבירי השמועה לא דייקו בלשון סיפורם.

כך מספר הרב אברהם משה קצנלנבוגן בשם זקנו בעל המעשה:

במרומי השכונה "גבעת שאול"בדרך העולה לירושלים, נבנה מוסד בית היתומים דיסקין, שהגה ויסד הגאון מבריסק רבינו יהושע לייב זצ"ל, ואת הבנין הקים בנו הגאון רבי יצחק ירוחם זצ"ל.

המוסד השתקם שם בר"ח ניסן תרפ"ז, ובאותה תקופה, היתה גבעת שאול, שכונה שוממה, זרועה בתים בודדים, ומובן שעד החומות של העיר העתיקה, לא היה רצף של ישוב.

לשנה הבאה (תרפ"ח) כשבירכו חודש אדר, התעוררה השאלה, כיצד ינהגו בקריאת המגילה, המתגוררים בבית היתומים.

הפוסקים היו חלוקים בדעותיהם, חלקם סבר שיש לקרוא את המגילה ביום י"ד מאחר והעיר העתיקה אינה נראית, והמקום לא סמוך, אחרים אמרו שמחמת הספק צריכים לקרוא גם בי"ד וגם בט"ו.

בין החולקים ניצב זקיני מורי ורבי הגאון רבי רפאל זצ"ל שסבר כי חייבים לקרוא אך ורק ביום ט"ו, כפי שקוראים בירושלים עיה"ק.

פסק ההלכה על מוסד דיסקין הדריך את מנוחתם של כמה מחכמי ירושלים, ולכשנתוועדו בצוותא הוחלט לשאול את פי הגאון רבי יוסף חיים זוננפלד זצ"ל.

וכך סיפר זקיני מו"ר הגאון זצ"ל: כששטחתי את הענין לפני רבי יוסף חיים זצ"ל סיפר לי, כי ידוע לו שהגאון רבי יהושע לייב זצ"ל, יסד את המוסד שלו בירושלים דוקא, ולא במקום אחר, ואם נקבע שאת המגילה קוראים בי"ד ולא כמו בירושלים, בט"ו, נאלץ להקים בית חדש למוסד דיסקין במקום שקוראים בו בט"ו. ומאז קוראים שם בט"ו[12].

לכשנדייק בלשון עדות בעל המעשה זה נמצאנו למדים, כי לא הוראה של מהרי"ל דיסקין היתה כאן, אלא הוראה של רבי יוסף חיים זוננפלד - שהוסיף בשנינות: על פי הוראתו של מהרי"ל דיסקין, מוסד בית היתומים צריך לשכון בירושלים דווקא, ואם אנחנונסיק שגבעת שאול אינה ירושלים, עלינו להעביר את המוסד למקום אחר - מקום בו אנוסבורים שהוא ירושלים.

ראוי לציין כי דעתו של מהרי"ל דיסקין עצמו בענין זה נדפסה בספרו: "ולענין סמוך לא משכחת לה כלל, דכל שאין שיעור מיל פנוי בינתים חשיבא סמוך"[13].

[1]ספר שערי זבולון, חובר ע"י ר"ז שוב, בשנת תשמ"ט.

[2]רש"ד דבליצקי, ירושלים הרים סביב לה, בני ברק תשמ"ט, עמ' 9 כותב: "למעשה מצאנו לו אך חבר אחד והוא הגאון ר'משה נחמיה כהניו מחאסלאוויץ זצ"ל בתורה מציון משנת תרמ"ז, ולא נהוג עלמא כוותיהו".

[3]עיר הקדש והמקדש, ח"ג ירושלים תשכ"ט, פרק כז.

[4]רש"ד דבליצקי, שם. וראה דברי רי"מ טוקצינסקי בספרו הנ"ל שם עמ'תכז.

[5]רש"י זוין, סופרים וספרים, ח"א תל אביב תשי"ט, עמ' 359.

[6]רא"ב קעפעטש, חומות ירושלים, ירושלים תשמ"ט, עמ'י-יא. (על משל זה, העיר רבי שלמה זלמן אויערבאך: "עלות השחר קובע ולא כל רגע" - שם בספר עמ'ל).

[7]רש"ז זוננפלד, האיש על החומה, ח"א ירושלים תשל"ה, עמ' 214-215.

[8]ר"א נבנצאל, סבו ציון, ירושלים, עמ'פא.

[9]רנ"צ פרוש-גליקמן, (רמ"ע דרוק עורך), שלשה דורות בירושלים, ירושלים תשל"ח, עמ' 172-173.

[10]י'שפירא, ירושלים מחוץ לחומה, ירושלים תש"ח, עמ' 139.

[11]ש. זכריה, ירושלים של מטה, ירושלים תשס"ג, עמ' 311.

[12]רמיי"ל דיסקין, אהלים - מגילה (עורך: רא"מ קצנלנבוגן), ירושלים תשנ"ג, עמ'תמט.

[13]שו"ת מהרי"ל דיסקין, קונטרס אחרון סי'ג אות קג. (וראה עוד בדברי תלמידו רצ"מ שפירא, ציץ הקדש, ח"א סי'נב).

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Rav Kook: Mystic in a Time of Revolution

March 18, 2014, 10:28 am

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Yehudah Mirsky, Rav Kook: Mystic in a Time of Revolution (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2014)

This volume offers a brief, accessible presentation of the life, teachings, and legacy of Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook, a colossal figure little known in the English-speaking world. It also tries to fill the crying scholarly need for a one-volume study in English to go alongside the vast and growing body of literature on him in Hebrew. It is addressed to readers new to the man, the period, and his teachings, as well as to those already familiar with them. This attempt to create a fellowship of readers from disparate communities is more than fitting for a book about a man who tried to do the same on a vastly more consequential scale. The Seforim Blog is happy to present the following excerpt. It is taken from chapter three, which surveys Rav Kook’s spiritual diaries, and in particular the volumes known as Shemonah Kevatzim, from which his son, Rav Zvi Yehudah Kook, his disciple Rav David Cohen Ha-Nazir, and others, culled and edited his canonical theological works.

The third notebook in this series begins with an arresting analysis of contemporary Jewish life. Three forces, he writes, wrestle within all people: “The holy, the nation, humanity.” Modernity has whirled these three central dimensions of Jewish identity away from one another, each becoming the property of a party--nationalism, liberalism, and Orthodoxy, respectively--and they stubbornly refuse to be rejoined, because each fixates on the negative dimensions of the others. Yet all three dimensions are necessary, and each should appreciate seemingly bad sides of the others, as well as their good sides. Ideally, liberals will grasp that the narrowness of nationalism comes from real love of one’s community, and the zealousness of the Orthodox is rooted in a flaming desire for God. Liberals and the Orthodox will see that nationalists’ placing solidarity above broader aspirations for universal ethics or transcendence arises from powerful, loving attachments to people and fellow feeling. Nationalists and the Orthodox in turn will see that liberals’ preference for humanity over nationalism or religion is rooted in an ultimately divine perspective. The sacred, then, is the energy that synthesizes all three elements--religious commitment, national identity, and ethical universalism--and a relationship to the All that lies beyond, before, and within them.

For Rav Kook, Orthodoxy has the inside track to holiness, yet liberalism and nationalism are its ontological equals on that journey. And he urged people to live a complex gesture, to be actively tolerant while taking a genuine stand on behalf of the ideals in which they truly believe, fighting for them in the here and now. His political credo was something along these lines: I should always recognize not only that All the while, they should recognize not only that my opponent is human, but also that he has a piece of the truth that is unavailable to me. Secure in the rightness of my calling and in the inevitable partiality of my vision, I proceed with faith in the struggle itself and its ultimate, harmonious resolution. These ideas were not the fruit of theory, but were the harvest of his very real struggles with others and with himself.

Different lifeworlds course through Rav Kook’s journals: fidelity, rebellion, scholasticism, folk piety, romantic nationalism, ethical universalism, mystical experience, halakhic discipline, surging antinomianism, the exertions of intellect, and the passionate religion of the heart. These he saw as his own defining contradictions and those of his people, of all people and times, manifestations of the immanent divine light hidden in all the varied, jagged dimensions of existence, struggling to join with the light of transcendence and be revealed:

All the thoughts and ideas, the great desires, the awesome trials, that every tzaddik endures in his private self, the nation as a whole endures as well, and more broadly man in general, and more broadly the world, and all the worlds.. . to the extent that he stands fast…becomes equal to the spirit of all worlds, and from his interiority takes in all, and the light comes to him from his darknesses so that he can truly survey the world from one end to the other, each one at his level, then he will see the greatness of God in strength and joy, and the path of the tzaddikim is like radiant light, ever brightening to the day [Proverbs 4:18].

The all-encompassing vision with which he tried to find the light in everything and, in so doing, to square a seemingly endless number of circles regularly left him on a knife-edge between despair and exhilaration, quickened by introspection into his own inadequacies. His critique and rewriting of traditional religious categories, especially repentance, extended to this inner work as well.

One who grieves constantly for his sins and the sins of the world must constantly forgive and absolve himself and the whole world; and in so doing draw forgiveness and a light of loving-kindness onto all of being, and bring joy to God and to His creatures. He must first forgive himself, and afterward cast a broad forgiveness over all, the nearest to him first, on the branches of the roots of the soul, and on his family,his loved ones, his generation, and his world, and all worlds . . . And thus is revealed all the good that is hidden away in everything, and he attains the blessing of Abraham, since there is no generation in which his likeness does not emerge.

His grief for his sins, as part of a world of sins, offers a paradoxical point of entry into the only thing that can offer relief--forgiveness. Not an abstract forgiveness, but acceptance of oneself, one’s family and friends, world, time, and all times. He is, in this passage, undergoing a theurgic process, of human influence on the divine, and by mimesis in reverse, a human simulacrum of God’s forgiveness, a great exhalation of forgiveness down below that brings about forgiveness from above--because it is itself the revelation of God’s forgiveness, the grace of seeing God’s light in all things. Sinfulness, then, is that which blocks the soul’s natural ascent. Sin is an opacity thrust into a shaft of light.

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Ha-Osek be-Mitzvah Patur min ha-Mitzvah: The Case of Prayer and Torah Study

March 24, 2014, 1:56 pm

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Daniel Sperber has just published a new book, On the Relationship of Mitzvot Between Man and His Neighbor and Man and His Maker. The Seforim Blog is happy to present chapter 4 from the book.

Ha-Osek be-Mitzvah Patur min ha-Mitzvah: The Case of Prayer and Torah Study

Daniel Sperber

We find in Sefer ha-Rokeah, section 369 ad fin., that a person who is sitting in the synagogue, wrapped in his talit and with his tefillin on his head and is reciting liturgical songs, must, nonetheless, rise up before his teacher, since he can carry out both actions and he will receive fine rewards in both worlds. Now there are early authorities who hold that the principle that one who is engaged in one mitzvah is exempt from another is also the case when both could be carried out. (See Shulhan Aruch Orah Hayyim 38:8, and in the Beur Halachah, ibid., and also R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, Brit Yaakov[Jerusalem: 1985], section 2, 36; R. Ovadiah Yosef, Hazon Ovadiah: Sukkot [Jerusalem: 2005, 167].) The author of the Rokeah, R. Elazar of Germaiza, was a disciple of R. Yehudah (b. R. Shmuel) he-Hasid, the author of Sefer Hasidim. And it is the view of R. Yehudah he-Hasid that even if one can carry out both mitzvot, one is exempt from doing so, if one is engaged in a prior mitzvah; and this, indeed, is the view of R. Elazar Rokeah himself (Rokeah, Hilchot Sukkah, section 299; see Sofer). Why then should one who is engaged in praising the Lord in the synagogue, have to rise up before his teacher? Surely he is already engaged in a mitzvah, and therefore exempt from others! The answer, I suggest, is because ritual synagogue worship is directed towards God, but respect for one’s teacher is a mitzvah between man and his fellow, and he is therefore not exempt from it. So too the Hida, R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai, rules, that even in the hour of prayer one rises before a Torah scholar, (Birkei Yosef Orah Hayyim, section 244:1; and see Sofer, note 8 on page 37; and see most recently the discussion of R. Yitzchak Eliyahu Stessman, Kimah ve-Hidur [Jerusalem: 2011, 88–91], with additional references).

Indeed, the severity of not rising before one’s teacher is expressed by R. Eleazar in very extreme terms in BTKiddushin 33b:

Any scholar who does not rise before his teacher is called a wicked person (רשע), and will not live long and will forget his learning.

(See also R. Yaakov Hezkiyahu Fisch, in his Ve-Haarachta Yamim, ed. Y.M. Sofer, [Jerusalem: 2010, 71–72].)

To this we may add what we are told of the Arizal, by his disciple R. Hayyim Vital, that he was very particular in paying his workers exactly on time and without delay. And if he did not have the money with which to pay these wages, he would delay his afternoon prayer (minhah) until close to sunset in order to search out a loan with which to make the payment. Only afterwards would he hurriedly daven minhah. He would explain himself by saying: “How can I pray to the Lord, may He be blessed . . . , when such an important mitzvah is incumbent upon me, and I have not carried it out?” (See R. Hayyim Vital, Shemonah Shearim: Shaar ha-Mitzvot[Jerusalem: 1872], Parshat Tetzeh; Avraham Tobolsky, Hizaharu be-Memon Haverchem, vol. 2, [Bnei Brak: 1981, 211–212].)

In a somewhat different vein, but with much the same principle as its basis, we read in Niflaot Beit Levi, by A. Kleiman (Pietrokov: 1911, 32, [Yiddish]), cited in Louis I. Newman and Samuel Spitz, The Hasidic Anthology: Tales and Teachings of the Hasidim (New York: 1944, 178:2, 480) as follows:

A teamster (=wagon driver) sought the Berditchover’s (Reb Levi Yitchak of Berditchov’s) advice as to whether he should give up his occupation because it interfered with regular attendance at the synagogue.

“Do you carry poor travellers free of charge?” asked the Rabbi. “Yes,” answered the teamster. “Then you serve the Lord in your occupation just as faithfully as you would be frequenting the synagogue.”

(However, see A.Y. Pfoifer, Ishei Yisrael[Jerusalem: 1998, 104, section 11, and notes ad loc].)

And indeed, the Rambam in Hilchot Talmud Torah 3:4, followed by the Shulhan Aruch, Yoreh Deah246:8, rules:

If there came before him [the choice of performing] a mitzvah and (i.e., or continuing) learning Torah, if that mitzvah could be carried out by another, he should not interrupt his learning; but if not, he should carry out that mitzvah and then return to his study. And when it comes to giving charity, one should always give charity first.^[1]

This indeed is the conclusion to be drawn from the sugya in Yerushalmi Pesahim3:7 (and parallel to JTHagigah 1:7). There we read that R. Abahu, who lived in Caesarea, sent his son R. Haninah to study in Tiberias, in the Yeshiva of R. Yohanan.

They came and informed him that [his son] was engaged in charitable activities (i.e., in the burial of dead). He sent him a message, saying to him: “Are there no graves in Caesarea that I sent you to Tiberias?” (i.e., for such activities you could have stayed at home).

The Talmud continues that it was already decided at Beit Nitzeh in Lod that “study is greater for it leads to deeds,” (see below). However, the rabbis of Caesarea qualified this by saying:

This is the case when there is someone else to carry out the deeds. But if there is not anyone else to carry them out, the deed comes before [the study], (i.e., has precedence).

We then are told a tale:

R. Hiyya, R. Yosi [and] R. Ami were late coming to R. Eleazar [for their lesson with him]. He asked them, “Where were you?” They replied, “We were involved in charitable activity” (meaning in the burial of someone). “Was there no one else [who could do this?]” he asked of them. They replied, “He was a neighbor [according to the Pnei Moshe, or a proselyte – according to the Korban ha-Edah,” i.e., and there was no one else to deal with his burial.]

Incidentally, we may add here that the interpretation of the Pnei Moshe is supported by a passage in Sefer Haredim, (by R. Eleazar Azikri, [Safed: 1533–1600]), Mitzvot Aseh . . . ha-Teluyot be-Lev 22, which states that:

A person is obligated to act charitably towards his neighbors and his relations more than to other people, as is clearly stated in the Bavli and the Yerushalmi.

(See S. Lieberman, HaYerushalmi Kiphshuto[Jerusalem: 1934, 426] and his other comments.)

And the parallel text in JTHagigah 1:7., begins with an additional passage, namely:

R. Yehudah, when he would see a dead person (i.e., a burial) or a bride (i.e., a marriage procession), [and people] praising them (i.e., honoring them in the processions), he would turn to his students (נותןעיניובתלמידים), and say: “The [dealing with] the dead precedes the study of Torah (תלמוד).”

And a somewhat similar notion, but expressed in a Hassidic vein, may be found in a story related in Yehezkel Shraga Fraenkel’s Rabbenu ha-Kaddosh mi-Shinyeve (Ramat Gan: 1992, 256–257). He relates that once the Rabbi of Warsaw came to visit the Divrei Hayyim, R. Hayyim of Sanz. The Sanzer Rebbe asked him, “Do you learn?” “Yes,” the Warsaw Rabbi replied. The Rebbe repeated, “Do you always learn?” The reply was, “When someone who is embittered and needs help comes to me, I close my gemara and deal with him, to help and encourage him.” “This is what I wanted to hear,” said the Sanzer, “whether you have the good sense to close your gemarawhen someone needs your help,^[2]both in word and in deed, and in any case to encourage him and bolster his spirit.”^[3]

Here we must make something of a digression, which is not really a digression, as this touches upon a very important point. For the Mishnah in Peah 1:1 states that: “the study of Torah is equal to all of them,” i.e., even to those mitzvot listed in the Mishnah which are social ones, such as honoring one’s parents, doing charitable deeds, bringing peace between rival individuals, etc. The question we ask ourselves is: is the study of Torah (תלמודתורה) a ritual or a social mitzvah? Into which category does it fall? For if the former, according to our suggestion how can it be superior to those other social mitzvot?

To clarify this issue we must go back to a very ancient discussion that took place in the attic at Beit Nitzeh in Lod, between R. Tarfon and the Elders. For this question was put before them: which is greater, or more important תלמודאומעשה, learning or deeds? R. Tarfon answered: Deeds are greater. While R. Akiva said study is greater. And they all replied: Study is greater for it leads to deeds (BTKiddushin40b).^[4]That is to say the importance of study is in that it constitutes the key to the proper execution of the mitzvot. This is also the meaning of R. Shimon the son of Rabban Gamliel’s statement in Avot1:17: Not the expounding of the law (midrash) is the chief thing, but the doing [of it] (maaseh). And this is amplified by Rabbenu Bachya in his commentary ad loc.: that the aim of man’s labor in Torah is not that he should just learn a lot, but that [his learning] should lead to deeds, as we have learned from the verse [in Deuteronomy 5:1], ‘and ye may learn them [i.e., the statutes and judgments], and keep and do them.’ And this is further amplified in Shulhan Aruch ha-Rav, by R. Shneur Zalman Mi-Ladi, in his Hilchot Talmud Torah 4:2, by telling us that “it is impossible to fulfill all the mitzvot in all their details without intensive study and knowledge of them. And for this reason it is equal to all of them,” i.e., not intrinsically, but as a means to their proper application.^[5]

This issue has been analyzed recently by R. Yitzchak Shapiro, in his article in Hakirah 9, (2010), 221–243, entitled “To know the Forbidden and the Permitted: An Analysis of Rambam’s View of the Purpose and Goals of Talmud Study.” He shows that the Rambam’s view, as expressed in his letter to his disciple R. Yosef,^[6]is that “learning Torah is a utilitarian endeavor, with extracting halachic conclusions its functional objective” (227).^[7]He goes on to show that “the simplicity and obviousness [of this position] might go unnoticed if not for its staggering ramification and total incompatibility with contemporary realities in derech halimud ” (227–228). For as he earlier showed (223–224): “the Aharonim do identify an aspect of Torah study, unrelated to fulfillment of the other mitzvot, based on the verse והגיתבויומםולילה– ‘but thou shalt meditate therein day and night’ (Joshua 1:8, cf. BTMenachot 99b). This mitzvah of ‘limud ha-Torah’ is distinct from the mitzvah of ‘yediat ha-Torah,’ and can be fulfilled regardless of the subject matter that is learned, whereas the mitzvah of yediat ha-Torah requires a curriculum that is limited to ‘halachah’ (or at least the sharpening of one’s mental acuity, which is necessary for accurate application of halachah). However, one may fulfill both facets of the mitzvah simultaneously only by learning halachic subject matter.”^[8]

This is the view of the Meiri, as formulated in his commentary to BTBerachot 7b:

The knowledge of how the Torah actually expresses itself indeed requires serving or observing Torah scholars. While intellectual learning is the cause of wisdom, observing the Sages is the cause of knowing how the Torah manifests itself. This is both true for monetary matters as well as that which is prohibited and permitted.

Hence, we may well understand the statement of Rav in BTMegillah 3b, that Talmud Torah is greater than the sacrifice of the daily offerings (temidin).

Here we may also call attention to R. Meir Triebitz’s insightful analysis (in his introduction to R. Daniel Eidensohn’s Daas Torah: A Jewish Sourcebook[Jerusalem: 2005, 31–35]). He begins by noting that God commands us twice to study Torah: once in Deuteronomy 11:19, and again in Deuteronomy 4:9–11. He analyzes the differences between these two formulations in all their details – e.g., one in the plural and the other in the singular; one talks of teaching, the other telling; one focuses on parents to children, while the other lists three generations. He concludes that “the two verses which obligate us to learn the Torah actually refer to two types of study. One refers to the study of the legal part of Torah, and the other to the study of Torah’s theology. Each form of study is deemed a separate scholarly enterprise.” He characterizes these two forms of study as “legal” (i.e., halachic) study, and “faith” study, which he states “deals primarily with Aggadic parts of the Torah.” But for our purposes it is important to emphasize that both verses, that is to say both classes of study, require the student also to be a teacher, and to pass on his learning to future generations. Hence, Torah study has a social aspect too.

This is a very broad subject that requires a study in its own right, and we cannot enlarge on it here. But what emerges very clearly is that the mitzvah of Torah study is in a very special category, for without it one would not know how to carry out ritual or social mitzvot correctly. Nonetheless, the Or Zarua and the Rav Baal ha-Tanya agree that one interrupts learning Torah to fulfill other mitzvot, if both cannot be carried out at the same time, and one is not exempt because one is already involved in a prior mitzvah.^[9]

This is clear from the baraitain BTKetubot 17a (BTMegillah 3b, 29a) that we interrupt our study of Torah (מבטליןתלמודתורה) not merely for a met mitzvah and to accompany the dead (הוצאתהמת), but also for wedding ceremonies (הכנסתכלה) – all supreme social mitzvot.^[10]And in this way, we may better understand the passage in Avot de-R. Natan, chapter 41, (ed. Schechter, Vienna: 1887, 133):

It once happened that R. Tarfon was sitting and teaching his disciples, and a bride went past him. He ordered that she be brought into his house, and told his mother and his wife that they should bathe her, anoint her, and decorate her with jewelry, and dance before her until she goes to her husband’s house.

Apparently, he interrupted his teaching in order to carry out the mitzvah of hachnasat kallah.^[11]

And indeed we read in the letters of the Hafetz Hayyim (Michtevei ha-Hafetz Hayyim he-Hadash, vol. 2, Bnei Brak: 1986) II, 86:

You occasionally see a Jew who [in a praiseworthy way] learns Torah [as much as possible] and values his time [not wasting a minute]. But if he does not set aside part of the day to do deeds of kindness, what a lack of intelligence!

And interestingly enough, this also becomes evidence from the commentary of R. David ha-Nagid, the Rambam’s grandson, to Avot1:15. There Shammai is cited as saying: “Make thy [study of the] Torah a fixed habit (קבע); . . . . And receive all men as its cheerful countenance.” And this is explained by the Nagid to mean that even when you are engaged in your fixed period of Torah study, you should not desist from receiving people cheerfully, thinking that in doing so you are “wasting” Torah-study time.^[12]So apparently he regarded proper interpersonal relationship of such importance as even to override one’s involvement in Torah learning. And this presumably goes under the category of kevod ha-beriyot, respect for the individual. (Cf. below, sections 15 and 19.)

We are reminded of the statement of Reb Yisrael of Rizhyn (died 1850), who expounded the verse in Psalms 115:16, “the heavens are the heavens of the Lord; but the earth hath He given to the children of men.”

There are two kinds of tzaddikim. Those of the one sort learn and pray the livelong day and hold themselves far from lowly matters in order to attain holiness. While the others do not think of themselves, but only of delivering the holy sparks which are buried in all things back to God, and they make all lowly things their concern. The former, who are always preparing for Heaven, the verse calls “the heavens,” and they have set themselves apart for the Lord. But the others are the earth given to the children of men.

(Martin Buber, Tales of the Hasidim: The Later Masters,
New York: 1948, 53–54)

Here, he is contrasting the Lithuanian mitnagdim’s way, (in a double-edged complementary fashion), with that of the Hasidim, while we well know with which way he personally sided.

At the same time we should recollect how Yehudah ha-Levi in his Kuzari, begins his definition of the religious man according to Jewish tradition with the negative statement that “in Jewish opinion, the religious man is not to be defined as one who cuts himself off from the world” (Book III, sect. I, ed. Hirschfeld, Leipzig: 1882, 140–141). Perhaps he was combating predominant contemporary Sufi views on extreme asceticism. (See Franz Rosenthal, “A Judaeo-Arabic Work under Sufic Influence,” HUCAXV1940, 440, and cf. page 465 for an extreme view of this form of asceticism, and note 104.)

^[1] See Le-Hair Hilchot Tzedakah be-Or Yekarot (Jerusalem: 2010, 6–7). And see below sect. 16 on the overriding importance of charity, and Appendix.

^[2] See, for example, the practice of the Brisker Rav, Reb Hayyim Soloveitchik, as described in Aharon Sorasky, Marbitzei Torah u-Musar bi-Yeshivot Nusah Lita mi-Tekufat Volozin ve-ad Yameinu, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: 1976, 110).

^[3]Cf. BTShabbat 127a: Said R. Yohanan: Great is the hosting of guests as are those rising up early to the House of Study [of Torah], as we have learned: to make room for guests [to avoid] hindrance in the House of Study. But Rav Dimi of Nehardea said: It is greater than rising up early to the House of Study. For we learned: “for guests,” and only afterwards “to avoid hindrance in the House of Study.” And see below sects. 11 and 12 on hosting guests.

^[4]On this text see Benedict Thomas Viviano, Study as Worship: Aboth and the New Testament (Leiden: 1978, 105–109). Directly related to this is the text in JTPesahim 3:7, and JTHagigah1:7, cited above, from which the Rabbis learned that if others can carry out these charitable activities, a person should not interrupt his Torah studies. And this seems to be the dominant view among the poskim. See further BTMoed Katan 9a; Shulhan Aruch Yoreh Deah 246:18; Meiri to BTShabbat9a and Moed Katan ibid.; Rabbenu Yeruham 22a in the name of the Ravad, etc.

See R. Asi ha-Levi Even Yuli, Shulhan Aruch ha-Middot, vol. 2, Halachah u-Musar (Jerusalem: 2009, 243–244).

^[5] See R. Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi’s magnificent commentary to Hilchot Talmud Torah Mi-Shulhan Aruch Admor ha-Zaken, vol. 5 [= ha-Rav] (Kefar Habad: 2000, 86).

^[6] Ed. Y. Shilat, Iggrot ha-Rambam, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: 1987, 254–259); and see editor’s note on 257–258 to line 4).

^[7] At the simplest level, there is, in the Rambam’s view, an obligation upon one who has learned Torah, also to teach it to others. See Hilchot Talmud Torah1:2, and so too in the listing of the positive commandments at the beginning of his Mishneh Torah, no. 11. (This list is also that of the Rambam, as attested by the author of the Magid Mishneh in his introduction to Hilchot Eruvin, and the Kesef Mishneh in Hilchot Hannukah 3:6; Responsa Noda bi-Yehudah Kama, Orah Hayyim, sect. 29; Petah ha-Dvir, vol. 2, sect. 194, subsect. A. See R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer, Drupteki de-Oraita, vol. 1 [Jerusalem: 1987, 45]. And see further his remarks, 68–69, on the need to teach others.) Of related interest is the article of Sarah Pessin, “Maimonides and the Sacred Art of Teaching,” apud Adaptations and Innovations: Studies in the Interaction between Jewish and Islamic Thought and Literature from the Early Middle Ages to the Late Twentieth Century, Dedicated to Professor Joel Kraemer, ed. Y. Tzvi Langermann (Paris & Louvin: 2007, 285–298). See also, most recently, the remarks of R. Aharon Lichtenstein, in H. Sabato and A. Lichtenstein, Mevakshei Panecha (Tel Aviv: 2011, 212–215).

^[8] See the material R. Yitzchak Shapiro brings from the letters of R. Yisrael Salanter (no. 27), in this regard. See also Kuntres Aharon shel Shulhan Aruch ha-Rav, Talmud Torah 3:1, ed. Y.A. Lev (Ashdod: 1989, 39 et seq.).

And see R. Aharon Lichtenstein’s very comprehensive study entitled “Does Involvement in Torah Study Exempt One from Mitzvot?”, which appeared in Alei Etzion 16 (5769 [2009]), 71–107, which examines this issue in depth, dealing with questions of delaying procreation, Megillah reading, prayer, all mitzvot, etc., and seeks to explain Rambam’s position that “ha-osek be-mitzvah patur min ha-mitzvah” theoretically applies to Torah study too, when “it is studied with the purpose of performing” (91); and cf. ibid., 105, for his suggestive interpretation of the view of the Maharach Or Zarua. His study of this very complex issue is extremely rich and requires intense study.

See also Moshe Zvi Polin, Sefer ha-Mitzpeh al ha-Rambam, vol. 1, (on Hilchot Talmud Torah) (Jerusalem: 2005, 11–26), that studying (lilmod ) and teaching (lelamed ) are two interconnected mitzvot. See Ramban Hilchot Talmud Torah 1:1; Hilchot Hagigah 3:1: that anyone who is obligated to study is obligated to teach, and cf. ibid., 1:4. I think this is the meaning of the statement in Seder Eliyahu Rabba, ed. Friedman, p. 63 =Tanna Debe Eliyahu, transl. W.G. Braude & I.J. Kapstein (JPS, 1981, 183) that “one who toils in Torah is like a lamp which provides light for the eyes of many.” And in this connection, it is also worth reading Benjamin Blech’s article “Personal Growth or Communal Responsibility: A Question of Priorities,” The Torah U-Madda Journal 2 (1990), 134–142. However, to give a slightly different point of view, see Hatam Sofer to Nedarim 81a; R. Hayyim Volozin’s Nefesh ha-Hayyim, Shaar Dalet, sect. 3; Ruah Hayyimto Avot 6:1, and the introduction to Eglei Tal.

A very extreme expression of this view is to be found in R. David Baharan’s “Hanhagot u-Piskei Halachah,” in Otzrot Yerushalayim, vol. 13 (Jerusalem: [2010?]), 40, where he insists one must learnhalachah every day, and it is not sufficient to learn merely Gemara. He goes on to say that one must learn Shulhan Aruch Orah Hayyim or Hayyei Adam, and he who does not do so will surely have no part in the World to Come. (See also ibid., 41–42.)

See further R.S.Z. Auerbach, Halichot Shlomo . . . al Moadei ha-Shanah, ed. Y. Terner and A. Auerbach (Jerusalem: 2007), 537–539, who also is of the opinion that there are two aspects to Torah study: the one being to study in order to learn how to act properly, and the other as an independent positive commandment which is not just in order to know how to act, but the actual practice of learning as an end in its own right. He expands on this position bringing biblical and rabbinic sources to bear out this point of view. However, here too he agrees that ultimately this is in order “to purify his body through the light of Torah, in order to cleave to God . . . who orders the world (àùø äìéëåúòåìíìå), and without which the world cannot subsist (åáìà÷éåîí– àéï î÷åí÷éåíìòåìí)” so that in the final reckoning this non-action-orientated study is nonetheless direct to úé÷åï òåìí, the betterment of our world, (see ibid., 536).

^[9] See Kuntres Aharon ibid., in the editor’s Midrashei ha-Kuntres, 36; and also Kuntres Aharon, Talmud Torah 4:3, that one interrupts learning for persuading others to give charity, where others are less persuasive, or helping in burying the dead, etc. See R. Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi, ibid., 87 et seq.

See further R. Ovadiah Yosef, Hazon Ovadiah: Sukkot(Jerusalem: 2005, 168), on the special status of Talmud Torah, because it is mandated at all times (îöåä úîéãéú), and, hence, cannot exempt from other mitzvot, as this would free us from all other mitzvot (citing the Birkei Yosef of the Hida 38:7).

This subject has most recently been examined in considerable detail, with a wealth of sources, by R. Asi ha-Levi Even Yuli, in his Shulhan Aruch ha-Middot, vol. 2, Halachah ve-Musar(Jerusalem: 2009, 243–247). He shows that there are two opposing views. For the Yosef Omez, by R. Yosef Juspa Kahn Neurelingen (c. 1639), (Frankfurt am Main: 1908, [reprint, Jerusalem: 1965] 316), writes that the Rabbis said: Anyone who is involved in Torah learning and not in gemilut hasadim, acts of charity, is as one who has no God. And therefore he wrote that a Torah scholar should make sure that every day he should carry out one act of charity. And the Seder ha-Yom (by R. Moshe ibn Machir [Venice: 1599], and numerous editions) wrote that one must not interrupt the learning of Torah for any mitzvah which can be carried out by another, with the exception of acts of charity. And therefore the enthusiastic should take this to heart and pursue acts of charity as one pursues life itself. (And see the continuation of this passage.) Even Yuli further refers us to Responsa Aderet Tiferet(by R. Avraham Dori, vol. 4, sect. 44), who following on the words of the Seder ha-Yom seeks to find additional support for this view in the Rambam, citing the gemarot in BTMegillah 3b, 29a; BTKetubot17a as further proof, in that one interrupts Torah learning to accompany the dead to his final resting place. (See below on this subject.) He then refers us to the Sdei Hemed to which we referred earlier on. However, this runs counter to the prevailing majority view found in a multitude of rabbinic sources, to which he referred on 243–244, and therefore very convincingly he rejects and refutes this argument on 246–247. See there in detail. However, the above just underscores what we have tried to point out, namely the complex ambiguity of the status of Torah study.

^[10] See Rema, Even ha-Ezer 65:1; Ba”hibid., that even the leading Torah authority, Gedol ha-Dor, does so. And even public learning is so interrupted, (Pnei Yehoshua to BTKetubotibid., on the basis of TosafotMegillah ibid.). However, see D. Friedman, Piskei Halachot, vol. 3 (Warsaw: 1901, 35), argues that nowadays, that we are not intimately acquainted with the laws and our studies are directed to their correct understanding, therefore, we do not interrupt Torah learning for wedding ceremonies. See, in detail, on all the rules related to this subject, B. Adler, Ha-Nisuim ke-Hilchatam, 2nd ed., vol. 2 (Jerusalem: 1985, 394–395).

Clearly hachnasat kallah is related to the mitzvah of procreation, which is one of the paramount duties of a man, in Jewish halachic thought. See my Netivot Pesikah (Jerusalem: 2008, 162–163, n. 251). (And cf. below, sect. 30.)

Here we may add that a communal positive mitzvah always takes precedence and outweighs a private individual’s positive mitzvah. A teacher sitting shiva is forbidden to learn and teach Torah. However, he is permitted to do so if the community needs him (Shulhan Aruch Yoreh Deah 384:1). See Tzvi Marx, Halakha and Handicap (Jerusalem: 1992–1993, 228).

^[11] See Schechter’s note in his edition of Avot de-R. Natan, n. 24, and p. 131, n. 10.

^[12] Midrash R. David ha-Nagid to Avot, ed. BenTziyyon Kipnis (Jerusalem: 1944). The Arabic original appeared in Na Amon 1901. However, there are some doubts as to the attribution of authorship. See Milhamot Ha-Shem by R. Avraham ben ha-Rambam, ed. M. Margaliot (Jerusalem: 1953, 38, n. 8); A. Katz, JQR48 (1957), 140–160; Midrash R. David ha-Nagid to Genesis, ed. A. Katz (Jerusalem: 1964, 16–18). On R. David ha-Nagid himself, see A. Strauss (Ashtor), Toldot ha-Yehudim be-Mitzrayim ve-Suriah tahat Shilton ha-Mamelukim, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: 1944, 117–128).

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Tobacco and the Hasidim and a Comment on Artscroll

April 1, 2014, 10:43 am

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Pursuing the Quest: Selected Writings of Louis Jacobs has just appeared. The Seforim Blog is happy to present the following excerpts from the book. (The Note on Artscroll is part of a longer article.)

Tobacco and the Hasidim and a Comment on Artscroll

Louis Jacobs

References in literature to the use of tobacco by hasidic Jews are numerous [1]. Although there is little direct evidence to indicate how widespread it was, the references suggest it was fairly extensive. Let us examine some of these. In his autobiography Solomon Maimon (d. 1800) describes a youthful visit to the court of Dov Ber of Mezhirech, the founder of the hasidic movement. Maimon remarks:

'Some simple men of this sect, who saunter about idly the entire day, pipe in mouth, when asked what they were thinking about, replied, "We are thinking about God".' [2]

There is no reason to doubt the accuracy of Maimon's report, which is substantiated by other early sources. For example, Shivhei Habesht, [3] the legendary biography of the Baal Shem Tov, refers to the famous lulke [4] which the founder of the hasidic movement used to smoke. While recent scholarship [5] tends to treat this work with less scepticism than did earlier scholars, even if all references to the Baal Shem Tov smoking tobacco [6] are fabrications, it is true that hasidim were known to smoke, for their early opponents, the mitnagedim, repeatedly castigated them for wasting time on smoking, which the hasidim believed prepared them for prayer.

One characteristic example in an anti-hasidic polemic is the statement in Zemir aritzim veharvot terurim (published in Alexnitz near Brody in 1772). This work criticizes the hasidim for delaying their prayers in the morning so that they can 'place incense in their nostrils'. [7] In a letter written from Vilna in 1772, the mitnagedim say of hasidim: 'They wait many hours before reciting their prayers . . . and they spend all their days in the smoke which proceeds from their mouth.' [8] In all these early sources smoking as an aid to prayer does not have any special hasidic significance: it is only a means to contemplation. This is probably also true for the hasidic tradition, [9] which holds: 'When the Baal Shem Tov wished to proceed to the upper worlds he would inhale tobacco and at each puff he would proceed from world to world.' [10]

There do not seem to be any references to tobacco in the classical hasidic works of doctrine, the hasidic Torah. Their absence from these sources may be because aids to contemplation (such as tobacco) were considered irrelevant to the ideal itself, although contemplation was clearly important in hasidic thought. Rabbi Phinehas of Koretz (Korzec) (1725-91), an associate of the Baal Shem Tov, reportedly observed:

With regard to imbibing tobacco, anything the body requires for it to be healthy is the same for all men. Therefore, since not everyone imbibes tobacco, it follows that it is not a permanent feature in creation, but only has healing powers for some. It has no healing power, and can do harm, to the majority of men, since it dries up the [bodily] fluid. [11]

Similarly, another reliable source records that Jacob Isaac Horowitz, the Seer of Lublin (1745-1825), used to take snuff during his prayers as an aid to concentration [12] It was not until the middle of the nineteenth century that various mystical and specifically hasidic ideas were imputed to smoking tobacco. While the mitnagedim state that hasidim 'place incense in their nostrils', the reference to this is no more than an extrapolation on the verse 'They shall put incense before Thee' (Deut. 33: 10). It is not itself conclusive evidence that early hasidim associated smoking with offering incense in the Temple. [13] In Sperling's Ta'amei haminhagim (a very late work), [14] however, we find that the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov believe that 'the weed known as tobacco is considered by the zaddikim to be like incense'. Moreover, following from the mystical idea of 'raising the sparks' that had fallen to the realms of the demonic powers [15] smoking was thought to be necessary to elevate the very subtle sparks that reside in tobacco. Unlike the sparks in food, which can be elevated when someone who is in a spirit of holiness eats the food [16] tobacco sparks cannot rise that way. Those subtle sparks can only be rescued for the holy by smoking or taking snuff.

A passage from the Talmud (Keritot 6a) states that a minute quantity of 'smoke-raiser' (a herb that causes smoke from the incense to rise) was added to the incense in the Temple. This passage is interpreted to mean that smoking tobacco raises the very small holy sparks which cannot be raised any other way. Sperling also refers to the healing properties of tobacco, which he calls segulah, a quasi-magical method. [17] If a woman finds it difficult to give birth, she should be given a pinch of snuff and this will help ease the birth. Nevertheless, Sperling was unable to discover a single reference to tobacco in classical hasidic works.

Rabbi Abraham Judah Schwartz (1827-83), a prominent non-hasidic Hungarian rabbi, was eventually won over to Hasidism. In the biography written by Dov Beer Spitzer (Schwartz's grandson), [18] we read:

My grandfather, of blessed memory, used to smoke tobacco (including cigars) to the extent that, occasionally, when he was engrossed in his studies and also when he taught his pupils in the beit midrash, it was as if he stood in the midst of a cloud so that it was impossible to come near to him. His son Naphtali Hakohen, of blessed memory, repeated in his name that the zaddikim intend great tikunim [19] and have the following in mind. [20] The pipe is made of clay, which is a mineral. The wood stem represents the plant. The bone mouthpiece comes from an animal. The smoker is a speaking creature [medaber, a human being, and fourth among the categories of mineral, plant, animal, and human] and he elevates all the stages beneath him (mineral, plant, and animal) to the stage of the speaking creature. For the zaddikim never carry out any empty act, Heaven forbid, but have their hearts concentrated on Heaven.

It is also reported that Rabbi Henikh of Olesko (1800-84), son-in-law of Rabbi Shalom Roke'ah of Belz (1779-1855), would take his snuff-box in his hand and inhale the snuff on Friday nights when he recited 'Kegavna', the kabbalistic prayer. [21] He would sing certain tones as he inhaled, and if any people were present who were ill or possessed by a dybbuk, a wandering soul which enters the body of a human being as a refuge from the demons which pursue it, they would begin to dance and move while the rabbi inhaled the snuff [22]. Those close to him realized that it was an especially propitious time. Further, Rabbi Eliezer Zevi of Komarno (d. 1898) was reported to have said that the letters of the word tabak have the same numerical value (112) as those of the word yabok, which stands for yihud, berakhah, kedushah('unification', 'blessing`, and 'holiness') and also ya'anenu beyom korenu('He will answer us on the day we call'). [23] Thus, he believed that tobacco helped the zaddik to achieve union, bestow blessings on his followers, and raise himself to greater heights of holiness, as well as predispose God to answer his prayers.

Although the hasidic master Rabbi Solomon Shapira (1832-93) is reported to have smoked only at the close of Simhat Torah, on Purim, and on Shushan Purim, [24] on those occasions he would smoke heavily. In his later years he was also reported to have smoked at the festive meal to celebrate the completion of a talmudic tractate and during Hanukah. At the celebratory meal following a circumcision he was also known to have smoked. Besides the reports of smoking on religious holy days, when Shapira was under severe stress he would smoke cigars in moderation to calm him and keep him from having a nervous breakdown. On the other hand, he was known to have smoked heavily when he travelled: on those occasions he never took a book with him to read and would seldom speak. As he smoked he appeared to be lost in contemplation.

A hasid who knew that Shapira had smoked heavily in his youth once asked him why he gave up the habit when he grew older. The hasid added that since Rabbi Hayim Halberstam of Sanz (1793-1876) used to smoke very heavily, he wondered why Shapira did not follow his example. [25] Shapira replied that Halberstam was reputed to have been 'one of the serafim' (Isaiah 6: 6); he was a seraf (fiery angel) and none could match him. But the real reason for giving up smoking, Shapira said, was that it wasted time; it was better to achieve union through study of the Torah and follow its precepts, engaging in practices essential for bodily strength rather than in luxuries like smoking, which one can live without.

There is a tendency among hasidic masters and hasidim generally to minimize the importance of smoking. In Rahamei ha'av, [26] a short work that first appeared in Lvov in 1868, the author, Jacob Klein (d. 1890), states that young men should not smoke cigars because such a practice is only vanity. [27] Klein also refers to the suggestion 'in the holy books of the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov' that tobacco is like incense, even though that motif cannot be found in the classical hasidic works. He adds that although Rabbi Shalom Roke'ah of Belz used to smoke as a young man, he gave it up when he noticed that a colleague in the beit midrash spent a great deal of time cleaning his pipe, while he (Shalom) could study an entire page of Talmud in the time his colleague took to clean his pipe. Klein also reports that the hasidic master Rabbi Moses ben Zvi Teitelbaum of Ujhely (1759-1841) never smoked.

Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin (1797-1850) was known to have been a heavy smoker. [28] When Rabbi Moses ben Israel Polier of Kobrin visited the rebbe of Ruzhin on the eve of the Sabbath, he found him with a pipe in his hand in a smoke-filled room. Noticing his guest's surprise, the rebbe of Ruzhin told the following story. A pious Jew lost his way just as the Sabbath was about to begin. Seeing a house in front of him, he went inside. To his alarm he saw there a notorious bandit sitting at a table upon which there rested a frightening blunderbuss. The man thought: if I try to run away, the bandit will shoot me in the back, but if I stay here he will probably kill me. The only way out seemed to be to seize the gun and fire at the bandit. If I succeed in killing him, he thought, well and good. But, even if I miss, the room will be filled with smoke and I will be able to escape in the confusion. Then the rebbe of Ruzhin laid his pipe aside and said: now it is the Sabbath. Thus, for the rebbe of Ruzhin the pipe was a smoke-screen against the blandishments of the yetzer hara (the evil inclination). Smoking is a diversion, a risky indulgence through which the zaddik can gain the upper hand over his enemy, the yetzer hara.

The early hasidim undoubtedly used tobacco as an aid to concentration; their smoking was only unusual in the amount of time they allotted for it. Although tobacco was brought to Europe from the New World, where it had been used as part of the American Indian religious ceremonies, [29] the hasidim (and Western smokers in general) did not use it in this sense. Rather, the early hasidim smoked tobacco as an aid to concentration. It was only much later that the incense motif and the idea of raising holy sparks were introduced. Zaddikim such as Hayim Halberstam of Sanz and Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin were heavy smokers, while others such as Rabbi Shalom Roke'ah of Belz and Rabbi Moses ben Zvi Teitelbaum either gave up smoking or had never smoked at all.

Today, despite the acknowledged health dangers of smoking, there is no evidence that the hasidim have given up the habit, and it is too early to say if they will (a speculation equally valid for those who are not hasidim). In any event, smoking tobacco was always peripheral for the hasidim; in the hasidic literature it had no special significance.

A Note on Artscroll’s Commentary to Psalms ch. 137

On verse 1: “By the rivers of Babylon”, the Artscroll refers to the Midrash Pesikta Rabbati (28) where R. Johanan says that the Jewish people, accustomed to the pure water of their homeland, were now forced to drink the insanitary waters of the Euphrates from which many of them died. Here again the Artscroll fails to see the historical background to R. Johanan’s saying. To anyone with an historical sense it is obvious that R. Johanan, a Palestinian, was reading homiletically into the Biblical text the superiority, even in matters of health, of the Holy Land over Babylonia, the land of the rival Babylonian Rabbis. There are numerous instances of the Rabbis applying the Biblical texts to conditions of their own day. R. Johanan’s comment tells the historian nothing about what the Psalmist meant by “the rivers of Babylon” but everything about R. Johanan’s views, in the third century CE, regarding the desirability for Jews not to leave the Holy Land to reside in the apparently more salubrious Babylonia. It is not so, declares R. Johanan, the Holy Land is superior not only with regard to the study of the Torah but also with regard to its health-giving properties. R. Johanan’s comment has its place in a study of third-century Jewry. It has no place at all in a commentary to the Bible.

Notes

1. On the halakhic problems connected with smoking, see I. Z. Kahana, 'Hatabak besifrut hahalakhah', in his Mehkarim besifrut hahalakhah (Jerusalem, 1973). The earliest discussion of these questions is found in the works of the Turkish rabbi Hayim Benveniste (1603-73), and Mordecai Halevy (d. 1684), who was dayan and a halakhic authority in Cairo for more than forty years. They discuss the issue as part of their treatment of the Turkish narghile, or hookah, in which the smoke passes through water, hence the expression (later used for smoking a pipe and taking snuff) 'drinking titon' (the Turkish (and Polish) name for tobacco).

2. See Gershon David Hundert (ed.), Essential Papers an Hasidism: Origins to the Present (New York, 1991), which contains an Eng. trans. of Maimon's account, pp. 11-24. The reference to the pipe-smoker is on p. 17.

3. On this discussion, see the less than adequate Eng. trans. of the Shivhei Habesht in In Praise of the Baal Shem, trans. Dan Ben-Amos and Jerome R. Mintz (Bloomington, Ind., l970).

4. Ibid. where the Persian word is transliterated incorrectly as lolkeh. On p. xxvi, puzzled by the reference to 'one lulke' in the story related on p. 105 (no. 80), Mintz interprets lulke to mean 'a hand-rolled cigarette'. The lulke is really a pipe with a long stem-a churchwarden's pipe-and 'one lulke' simply stands for a single pipeful or a single turn at the pipe. See ibid., index, s.v. lolkeh for a list of all references to the pipe of the Besht and others.

5. Murray J. Rosman, 'Miedzyboz and Rabbi Israel Baal Shem Tov', in Hundert (ed.), Essential Papers on Hasidism.

6. Yaffa Eliach, 'The Russian Dissenting Sects and their Influence on Israel Baal Shem, Founder of Hasidism', Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research, 36 (1968), 57-88, suggests that the Baal Shem Tov's lulke was a kind of tube filled with a far less innocent substance than tobacco (pp. 80-1). There is no foundation for implying that the Baal Shem Tov took drugs.

7. Mordecai Wilensky, Hasidim umitnagedim(Jerusalem, 1970), i. 54. In the first letter quoted in Joseph Perl's Megaleh temirin (Vienna, 1819), 3a, an imaginary hasid tells how he handed the zaddik his lulke but did not have the merit to light it for him.

8. Wilensky, Hasidim umitnagedim, i. 36-9. Cf. Wilensky's index, s.v. ishun bemikteret, and his note on hasidim and smoking on p. 39 n. 20.

9. Simeon Ze'ev of Meyenchov, 'Doresh Tov', in Sefarim hakedoshim mikol talmidei habesht hakadosh, i (Brooklyn, 1980), no. 17, p. 111.

10. On the ascent of the Baal Shem Tov's soul, see the letter at the end of Jacob Joseph of Polonoye, Ben porat yosef(Korzec, 1871). There is a translation of this in Louis Jacobs, Jewish Mystical Testimonies (New York, 1977), 148-55. There is, however, no mention that the ascent was achieved through smoking a pipe. On the ascent of soul, see Moshe Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic (Albany, NY, 1995), 104-5.

11. M. Spiegel (ed.), Tosefta lemidrash pinhas (Lvov, 1896), no. 167, p. 16a.

12. Samuel of Shinov (Sieniawa) (ed.), Ramatayim tsofim (Jerusalem, 1970), 51a n. 13.

13. That Jews have not used incense in the synagogue is probably intended to distinguish worship in the synagogue from worship in the Temple. Nevertheless, the later hasidic identification of smoking with incense suggests that some hasidim did see smoking as similar to the incense of the Temple. I knew a hasidic rabbi who would regularly smoke a Turkish cigarette before reciting the afternoon prayer, in which in hasidic practice the biblical and talmudic passages about incense are recited.

14. Abraham Isaac Sperling (ed.), Ta'amei haminhagim umekorei hadinim (Jerusalem, n.d.), 102. Cf. Aaron Wertheim, Halakhot vehalikhot behasidut (Jerusalem, 1960), 224-5. Wertheim, like Sperling, can produce only very few references to smoking among hasidim.

15. On the Lurianic doctrine of the sacred sparks, see I. Tishby, Torat hara vehakelipah bekabalat ha'ari(Jerusalem, 1965).

16. Louis Jacobs, 'Eating as an Act of Worship in Hasidic Thought', in Siegfried Stein and Raphael Loewe (eds.), Studies in Jewish Religious and Intellectual History Presented to Alexander Altmann(Tuscaloosa, Ala., 1979).

17. Sperling (ed.), Ta'amei haminhagim, 581.

18. Eliezer Ehrenreich (ed.), Toledot kol aryeh (2nd edn. Brooklyn, 1976), no. 36, pp. 27-8.
19. As in kabbalistic thought generally, the doctrine of tikun, that human activities have a cosmic effect and can 'put right' the flaws on high, looms large in Hasidism.

20. This is probably the meaning of the expression po'el bedimyono.

21. Zvi Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim, xiv (Jerusalem, 1955), no. 6, pp. 70-1.

22. See Gershon Winkler, Dybbuk (New York, 1981), on the dybbuk and exorcism.

23. Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim.

24. Ibid. p. 32, nos. 8 and 9.

25. On Hayim Halberstam as a heavy smoker, see Yosef David Weisbert, Rabenu hakadosh mizantz (Jerusalem, 1976), 197, 211, and Yosef David Weisbert, Otzar hahayim (Jerusalem, 1978), 20. In Isaac Landau's account in Zikaron tov (Piotrkow, 1882), 16-17, no. 17, Isaac of Neskhiv was another hasidic rebbe who smoked in his youth but gave it up later. This account contains a puzzling statement that when Isaac did smoke in his youth he was advised not to use Turkish tobacco by Levi Isaac of Berdichev, possibly because of the association with the Turkish pretender Shabbatai Zvi.
26. (Jerusalem, 1977), no. 11, pp. 8b-9a, under ga'avah.

27. Although the book was first published anonymously, it later became known that the author was Klein, a Hungarian rabbi with hasidic leanings, though not himself a follower of any particular zaddik. The passage is also quoted by Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim, no. 7, p. 31.

28. Reuben ben Zvi David (ed.), Keneset yisra'el (Warsaw, 1905), 16.

29. See Mircea Eliade (ed.), Encyclopedia of Religion (New York, 1987), s.v. 'smoking', vol. xiii, pp. 365-70, and 'tobacco', vol. xiv, pp. 544-6.

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Asufah of Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi

April 7, 2014, 10:02 am

≫ Next: New Seforim and books 2014

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New sefer announcement: Asufah of Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi

By Eliezer Brodt

אסופה, ארבעה מאמרים מאוצרות הר"ש אשכנזי שליט"א ['העלם דבר וטעות סופר', 'הגונב מן הספר', 'הרמב"ם כמתרגם מלשון התלמוד ללשון המשנה', 'מילונות עברית כיצד'?], ערך והשלים והביא לבית הדפוס, יעקב ישראל סטל, בהשתתפות אליעזר יהודה בראדט, כריכה רכה, 166 עמודים.

It is with great pleasure that I announce the release of another volume of Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi's work- Asufah. As I have written in the past, we are trying to print the collected material Rabbi Ashkenazi has written over a seventy year period. Many additional volumes are ready to go to print, but we lack funds to do so [any help would be greatly appreciated].

This new volume is composed of four articles. Two of these articles (no. 3 and 4) were printed in Leshonenu and Leshonenu L'Am, almost fifty years ago. A third article (no. 2) was partially printed in a recent volume of Yeshurun, and the fourth article (no. 1) was supposed to have been printed in the journal Or Yisrael but was excluded from the volume right before printing.

The first article deals with mistakes that great people have made in their writings. The point of the collection is to show that anyone can make a mistake, however this does in no way detract from their greatness. This sampling is only a small part [18 samples] of a much larger collection of similar kinds of mistakes that we hope to print in the future.

The second article is a list of 85[!] cases of plagiarisms. It's seventy two pages long and includes a very broad introduction on the subject. Hopefully this list will encourage others to collect similar instances and work to complete such a list.

The third article deals with the Rambam as a translator. As is well known, the Rambam wrote his classic work Yad Hachzakah in the Hebrew of the Mishna, as opposed to Talmudic Hebrew which is comprised of many Aramaic loanwords as well. Thus, the Rambam had to translate many Aramaic terms into Hebrew. This article deals with this topic and shows many interesting points related to this.

The fourth article is a review of the popular Hebrew dictionary HaMilon HaChadash, by Avraham Even-Shoshan. This article was first published in 1967 in the language journal Leshonanu in three parts. Some of the material from these articles was added into later editions of the dictionary. There is a wealth of information in this article about words and expressions. Rabbi Ashkenazi had made a 12 page index for his own personal copy of the article; this index is published here for the first time in this volume. Additionally, Rabbi Ashkenazi added many notes which he recorded over the years on the side of his copy of the article. All of the above addenda have been included in this printing.

In sum, this volume is of importance to any person interested in the Jewish book or the Hebrew Language.

The book was printed in a limited run of 300 copies and is not being sold in retail stores. If one is interested in purchasing a copy he can do so either through me, or at Beigeleisen in the U.S. or Girsa in Jerusalem.

The price of the book, including air mail shipping to the U.S., Canada or England is $24.

For a sample of this work or for any other information regarding this project, feel free to email me at: eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

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