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Resh Lakish said: A heathen who keeps a day of rest, deserves death, for it is written, “And a day and a night they shall not rest” (Gen. 8:22), and a master has said: Their prohibition is their death sentence. Ravina said: Even if he rested on a Monday.
Our Rabbis have taught: The men of the Mishmar prayed over the sacrifice of their brethren that it may be favorably accepted, whilst the men of the Ma’amad assembled in their synagogues and observed four fasts, on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of that week. On Monday [they fasted] for those that go down to the sea; on Tuesday for those who travel in the deserts; on Wednesday that croup may not attack children; on Thursday for pregnant women and nursing mothers, that pregnant women should not suffer a miscarriage, and that nursing mothers may be able to nurse their infants; on Friday they did not fast out of respect for the Sabbath; and certainly not on the Sabbath. Why did they not fast on Sunday? — R. Johanan said: Because of the Christians (הנוצרים). R. Samuel b. Nahmani said: Because it is the third day after the creation of Man. Resh Lakish said: Because of the additional soul. For Resh Lakish said: Man is given an additional soul on Friday, but at the termination of the Sabbath it is taken away from him, as it is said, “He ceased from work and rested” [shavat va-yinafash], that is to say, once the rest had ceased, woe! that soul is gone.
If a man died and left a young son with his mother, [and while] the father’s heirs demand, ‘Let him be brought up with us’, his mother claims, ‘My son should be brought up by me’, [the son] must be left with his mother and may not be left with anyone who is entitled to be his heir. Such a case once occurred and [the heirs] killed him ער”ה.
The words ערב הראשון, the first evening, are not actually found in the Baraisa. Rather, the Baraisa contains an acronym – ער”ה – which is read as ערב הראשון (see Rosh; Mesoras HaShas). Another interpretation of this acronym reads it as ערב הפסח, on Pesach eve (Meiri; Hagahos Yavetz)
Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim II:32) comments that they only heard the first two [commandments] from God, but they could hear only the sound of the Divine voice, as it were, and could not understand the words He was saying. . . . Thus, the people experienced prophecy, for they heard God’s voice, but their faith in Moses was reinforced, because only he understood what God was saying.
Here is the first page of Philip Birnbaum’s introduction to his translation of sections of the Mishneh Torah.[11]
I am not sure if I am the am ha-aretz he is referring to, which in any case would be uncalled for since I never said that David only had ruah ha-kodesh and was therefore not a prophet. All I did was point out that R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi said this. When I called the commenter’s attention to the fact that his strong words were directed against R. Ashkenazi, he wrote:
In the notes to this text, the editor informs us that one of the manuscripts has a different version. Instead of כדי להחזיקם שיהיו סבורים it reads להטעות הבריות שהם סבורים. This text is even more explicit that the Sages were not being honest with the masses. This manuscript has a handwritten note explaining that instead of reading להטעות הבריות it should say להטעים לבריות because the word להטעות is a דבר מגונה . In other words, the person who made this “correction” was troubled by the explicit statement that the Sages would deceive people, even if it was for a higher cause.
R. Simhah Klein writes[15]:
Finally, a few people have asked about what I wrote on p. 244, that the strand of Jewish tradition that countenances falsehood “deserves to be understood in a sympathetic manner as well”. This does not mean that people need to agree with those who countenance falsehood, and I certainly do not. However, in writing an academic study as opposed to a polemic, it is important to recognize that approaches that today we might regard as unacceptable, were viewed very differently in other times and cultures (and for some, these “other times and cultures” continue into our own day). I am interested in understanding what leads people to diverge so dramatically from a value that I regard as important. In my book I did not set out to judge them, but in a sympathetic manner, i.e, with a sensitivity to their worldview, attempt to understand them. (When I used the word “sympathetic”, I did not mean that I approved of what I was describing, only that I was sensitive to the motivations behind the approach.) By the same token, when I see that great figures from earlier years have written troubling things about non-Jews or women, I also approach this in a sympathetic manner, understanding that for these people, living in a vastly different time and often suffering under terrible anti-Semitism, it made sense that they would express certain thoughts that today pretty much everyone regards as unacceptable. One need not be a complete historicist to acknowledge that all people are influenced by their era, for good and for bad. This is what I mean by understanding in a sympathetic manner.
Coming Soon: R. Ysoscher Katz and Modern Orthodox Halakhah; The Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Dispute Regarding the Historicity of the Hanukkah Miracle; R. Steinman and the Messianic Belief; R. Mazuz’s Short-Lived Entry into Politics; and a response to R. Aharon Lopiansky’s article in Dialogue.
Regarding Tosefta, Avodah Zarah 7:2 and Gittin 44a, I assume that only one of the versions preserves the authentic text, but I don’t think we can determine which one it is. The only thing that remains to be explained is why Maimonides did not codify the halakhah in Gittin 44a. (It could be that his version of Gittin 44a was indeed the same as that which appears in the Tosefta, but this has nothing to do with censorship.)