Pesach, Haggadah, Art & Sundry Matters: A Recap of Important Seforimblog Articles

Among the more interesting aspects of the history of Haggados, is the inclusion of illustrations. This practice dates back to the Medieval period and, with the introduction of printing, was incorporated into that medium. Marc Michael Epstein’s excellent book regarding four seminal Haggadah manuscripts, The Medieval Haggadah: Art, Narrative & Religious Imagination, was reviewed here, and a number of those illustrations, were analyzed in “Everything is Illuminated: Mining the Art of IllustratedHaggadah Manuscripts for Meaning.” Epstein edited and wrote an introduction to the recently published facsimile edition of the Brother Haggadah, which resides in the British Library. This is the first reproduction in full color of this important manuscript. Another recent reproduction of a manuscript Haggadah is Joel ben Simon’s Washington Haggadah. This Haggadah is particularly relevant this year, as it contains an alternative text for  Eruv Tavshilin blessing. Whether or not this was deliberate was the subject of some controversy, see “Eruv Tavshilin: A Scribal Error or Deliberate Reformation?”

The first illustrated printed Haggadah, Prague, 1526, introduced new illustrations and recycled and referenced some of the common ones in manuscripts (see here for a brief discussion and here for Eliezer Brodt’s longer treatment). That edition would serve as a model for many subsequent illustrated Haggados but also contains surprising elements, at least in some religious circles, regarding the depiction of women, and was subsequently censored to conform with the revisionist approach to Jewish art. See, “A Few Comments Regarding The First Woodcut Border Accompanying The Prague 1526 Haggadah,” and Elliot Horowitz’s response, “Borders, Breasts, and Bibliography.” The Schecter Haggadah: Art, History and Commentary, a contemporary treatment of the art and the Haggadah, (for Elli Fischer’s review, see here), that unintentionally reproduced a version of one of the censored images in the first edition. It was restored in subsequent editions. Women appear in other contexts in illustrated Haggados. The most infamous example is the “custom” that implies a connection between one’s spouse and marror (discussed here), but our article, “Haggadah and the Mingling of the Sexes” documents more positive and inclusive examples of women’s participation in the various Passover rituals in printed Haggados.  Similarly, the c. 1300 Birds Head Haggadah has an image of female figures in snoods preparing the matza and a woman at the center of Seder table.

As detailed in chapter 8 of Epstein’s Medieval Haggadah, the early 14th Century Golden Haggadah is perhaps the most female-centric Haggadah and may have been commissioned for a woman. That manuscript emphasizes the unique, positive, and critical role women played in the Exodus narrative. Although it also depicts the practice of overzealous cleaning with a woman sweeping the ceiling. The 1430 Darmstadt Haggadah has a full-page illumination of women teachers, but its connection to the text is opaque. Finally, we argue that one printed Haggadah uses a subtle element in explicating the midrashic understanding of the separation of couples as part of the Egyptian experience.

One of the most creative contemporary Haggados was produced by the artist, David Moss. Moss was commissioned by David Levy to create a Haggadah, on vellum in the tradition of Medieval Jewish manuscripts. Moss worked for years on the project the result surely equals, if not surpasses, many of the well-known Medieval haggados, both artistically and its ability to bring deeper meaning to the text. The manuscript is adorned with gold and silver leaf and contains many paper-cuts (technically vellum-cuts).  One of the most striking examples of the silver decoration is the mirrors that accompany the passage that “in each and every  generation one is obligated to regard himself as though he personally came out of Egypt.” The mirrors appear on facing pages, interspersed with one with male and the other with female figures in historically accurate attire from Egypt to the modern period. Because the portraits are staggered when the page opens, each image is reflected on the opposite page, and when it is completely opened, the reader’s reflection literally appears in the Haggadah — a physical manifestation of the requirement to insert oneself into the story. The page is available as a separate print.

After completing the Haggadah, Moss was asked to reproduce it, and, with Levy’s permission, produced, what the former Librarian of Congress, Daniel Bornstein, described as one of the greatest examples of 20th-century printing. The reproduction, on vellum, nearly perfectly replicates the handmade one. This edition was limited to 500 copies, all of which were sold. From time to time, these copies appear at auction and are offered by private dealers, a recent copy sold for $35,000. President Regan presented one of these copies to the former President of Israel, Chaim Herzog, when he visited the White House in 1987. While that is out of reach for many, this version is housed at many libraries, and if one is in Israel, one can visit Moss at his workshop in the artist colony in Jerusalem, where he continues to produce exceptional works of Judaica and view the reproduction.  There is also a highly accurate reproduction, on paper that is available (deluxe edition) and retains the many papercuts and some of the other original elements, that is still available. This edition also contains a separate commentary volume, in Hebrew and English. (There is also one other available version that simply reproduces the pages, but lacks the papercuts.)

While the entire Moss Haggadah is worth study, a few examples. One paper-cut is comprised of eight panels, each depicting the process of brick making, the verso, using the same cuttings, depicts the matza baking process, literally transforming bricks into matza. The first panel of the matza baking is taken from Nuremberg II Haggadah, which we previously discussed here, and demonstrated that it preserves the Ashkenazi practice of only requiring supervision from the time of milling and not when the wheat was cut.

The illustration accompanying the section of Shefokh, reuses the illustrations of Eliyahu from the Prague 1526 and the Mantua 1528 Haggados to great effect. In the original and vellum reproduction, the cup of Eliyahu physically turns without any visible connection to the page — an extraordinary technical achievement. This section and the illustrations were discussed by Eliezer Brodt in “The Cup of the Visitor: What Lies Behind the Kos Shel Eliyahu, and, in this post, he identified an otherwise unknown work relating to the topic, for another article on the topic, see Tal Goiten’s “The Pouring of Elijah’s Cup (Hebrew).”  Eliezer revisited the topic in (here) his conversations with Rabbi Moshe Schwed, in the series, Al Ha-Daf. In last year’s conversation, he discussed a number of other elements of the history of the Haggadah, and three years ago the controversy surrounding machine produced matza. (All of the episodes are also streaming on Apple Podcasts, Spotify & 24Six.) Additionally, he authored “An Initial Bibliography of Important Haggadah Literature,” and two articles related to newly published Haggados, “Elazar Fleckeles’s Haggadah Maaseh BR’ Elazar ” and XXI. Rabbi Eliezer Brodt on Haggadah shel Pesach: Reflections on the Past and Present ,” regarding Rabbi Yedidya Tia Weil’s (the son of R. Rabbi Netanel Weil author of “Korban Netanel”) edition, and a review of David Henshke’s monumental work, Mah Nistanna. 

In one of the first haggadot printed in the United State published in 1886 Haggadah contains a depiction of the four sons.  Depicting the four sons is very common in the illustrated manuscripts and printed haggadot. In this instance, the wicked son’s disdain for the seder proceedings shows him leaning back on his chair and smoking a cigarette. According to many halakhic authorities, smoking is permitted on Yom Tov, nonetheless, the illustration demonstrates that at least in the late 19th-century smoking was not an acceptable practice in formal settings. (For a discussion of smoking on Yom Tov, see R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Mo’adim be-Halakha (Jerusalem:  Mechon Talmud Hayisraeli, 1983), 7-8).

The cup of Eliyahu is but one of many Passover food-related elements. The identification of Marror with the artichoke in Medieval Haggados, is debated by Dan Rabinowitz and Leor Jacobi , while Susan Weingarten provides an overview of the vegetable, in “The Not-So-Humble Artichoke in Ancient Jewish Sources.” Jacobi also discusses the fifth cup in his article, “Mysteries of the Magical Fifth Passover Cup II, The Great Disappearing Act and this printed article.  The history of the restriction of Kitniyot and the development of the practice of selling hametz is discussed in our article, “Kitniyot and Mechirat Chametz: Paradoxical Approaches to the Chametz Prohibition,” and was revisited on Rabbi Drew Kaplan’s Jewish Drinking podcast (and in an audio version on apple podcasts and spotify). Another guest was Marc Epstein, discussing his book on Medieval Haggados, and Dr. Jontahan Sarna where he gives an overview of the use of raisin wine for the kiddush and the four cups, based on his article, “Passover Raisin Wine,” as was the frequent contributor to the Seforimblog, Dr. Marc Shapiro. His interview, like many of his posts and his book, Changing the Immutable, discusses censorship and, in particular, the censored resposum of R. Moshe Isserles regarding taboo wine (also briefly touched upon in Changing the Immutable, 81-82, and for a more comprehensive discussion of the responsum, see Daniel Sperber, Nitevot Pesikah, 104-113).  For another wine related post, see Isaiah Cox’s article, “Wine Strength and Dilution.” The history of Jewish drinking and Kiddush Clubs was briefly discussed here.

Whether coffee, marijuana and other stimulants falls within the Kitniyot category appears here. Marc Shapiro’s article, “R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Kitniyot, R. Judah Mintz, and More,” regarding Artscroll’s manipulation of R. Zevin’s Moadim be-Halakha regarding kitniyot. Another coffee related article explores the history and commercial relationship between the Maxwell House Haggadah.  Finally, the last (pun intended) food discussion centers on the custom of stealing the afikoman.

The Amsterdam 1695 Haggadah was an important milestone in the history of printed illustrated Haggados, it was the first to employ copperplates rather than woodcuts. This new technique enabled much sharper and elaborate illustrations than in past Haggados. While some of the images can be traced to earlier Jewish Haggados, many were taken from the Christian illustrator, Mathis Marin. It also was the first to include a map. As we demonstrated that map, however, is sourced from a work that was a early and egregious example of forgery of Hebrew texts. For an Pesach related plagiarism, see “Pesach Journals, Had Gadyah, Plagiarism & Bibliographical Errors.” Kedem’s upcoming auction of the Gross Family collection includes, with an estimate of $80,00-$100,000, one of the rarest, beautiful, and expensive illustrations of Had Gadya by El Lissitzky published by Kultur Lige, Kiev, 1919. Eli Genauer reviews another number related edition, not in price, but convention, “The Gematriya Haggadah.”

Chag kasher ve-sameach!

The Longest Masechta is …

By Ari Z. Zivotofsky

As Jews, we are often intrigued with trivia about our holy books, and the more esoteric and harder to verify, the better. An example of such trivia is the longest masechta in shas. While it is relatively easy to verify that the longest masechta in terms of pages in the Vilna Shas is Bava Batra, with 176 pages,[1] until modern times it was much more difficult to determine which is the largest masechta in terms of words or characters. Once something is difficult to measure, rumors abound, and this topic is no different. To cite just three examples. Meorot haDaf Yomi on 23 Shvat 5770 (vol. 559), stated (in Hebrew) that if not for the lengthy commentary of Rashbam, Bava Batra would have considerably fewer pages and that the Gra had said that really the longest masechta in terms of words is Berachot, although it is only 64 pages. Rabbi Yaakov Klass in the Jewish Press (20 Tammuz 5777 / July 13, 2017) wrote: “as the Vilna Gaon observes, Berachos is actually the longest tractate”. Rabbi Aaron Perry in his “The Complete Idiot’s Guide to the Talmud” (2004) states in a section “the least you need to know” (p. 57): “Brachot (Blessings) is the longest tractate in words”.

As often happens with urban legends. once an assertion is accepted as “fact”, it is then claimed to have been verified. In the journal Ohr Torah (Sivan 5766 [465], p. 719) the claim is made that a computer check was performed and it was found that the largest masechet based on words is Berachot. But alas, it ain’t so and in the next issue of Ohr Hatorah (Tammuz 5766, p. 784) the error was pointed out.

In actuality, and before presenting the results from a computer count, it is worth noting that ambiguity regarding sizes of masechtot only arose when commentaries began to be put on the same page as the text of the gemara. In other words, until the era of the printing press there was no ambiguity as to which masechta was the longest. Prof. Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel (Amudim B’toldot ha’Sefer ha’Ivri: Hagahot u’magihim [Chapters in the History of the Jewish Book: Scholars and Annotations], 2005, 105-106) credits Prof. Shlomo Zalman Havlin in his monumental “Talmud” entry in the Encyclopedia HaIvrit with the idea that the relative size of tractates can be determined based on the number of pages they occupy in the Munich manuscript. This unique manuscript, completed in 1342, was transcribed by one individual and had the entire Bavli in one 577 page volume. Simply comparing the number of pages of the various tractates provides the relative length in terms of characters/words. This ranking may be more accurate that a computer count of the words or letters as the single author may have been more consistent in terms of abbreviations and other factors that can influence the count.

Using the Munich ms, the rank ordering is similar, but not identical to that obtained from a computer count, although in all cases it is clear that Berachot is far from the largest. Using the Munich ms, the top five (with number of pages) are:

Shabbat (55.5)
Hullin (51)
Yevamot (47)
Sanhedrin (45.5)
Bava Kamma (45)

…..

Berachot (36) is number 11.

A similar system can be used to estimate the size of masechtot using the monumental one-volume shas edited by Zvi Preisler (Ketuvim Publishers, Jerusalem, 1998). It is straight text of Talmud with no commentaries of Rashi or Tosafot and is a uniform font. References to biblical verses are included and thus sections with more aggadatah might appear slightly longer. The text is arranged in three columns per page. Counting pages in this volume, the longest mesechtot (and number of pages) are:

Shabbat (77⅓)
Sanhedrin (66⅓)
Hullin (58⅙)
Bava Batra (56½)
Pesachim (55⅓)
Yevamot (55⅙)

…..

Berachot (47⅓ pages)

The simplest way to answer this question today is with a computer count of the number of words. Using the Bar Ilan Responsa project for this, the number of words in all of shas is about 1.865 million. And the 5 largest tractates are:

Shabbat (118k)
Sanhedrin (107k)
Hullin (90k)
Bava Batra (89k)
Bava Metzia (86.5k)

……

Berachot (73k) is in 11^th place

The 5 smallest tractates are Chagigah (19k), Makot (18k), Horayoat (13k), Me’ilah 8k), and Tamid (5k). Other computerized calculations yield slightly different counts, but they do not significantly alter the rankings.

So why might one have been (mis)led to think that Berachot is the largest? It is easy to understand because Berachot does indeed win the prize in one category – words/daf. Berachot is king, with over 1115 words/daf. The next 5 are: Krisos (975), Horayot (972), Megilla (934), Sanhedrin (932 – the last perek probably plays a big role in raising this number!), Taanit (890). What might interest some daf yomi learners are the bottom 5, and those are (from bottom up): Nedarim (383), Meilah (384), Nazir (431), Baba Batra (509), Tamid (512).

The rumor is that the Gra stated that Berachot is the longest tractate, and it is hard to abandon such a tradition. A noble effort was recently made to vindicate that tradition. The book Mitzvah V’oseh (Shmuel David Hakohen Friedman, 2015, ch. 44, p. 564) quotes the famous statement that the Gra said Berachot is the longest in words, corrects this by pointing out that Shabbat is longer, and then gives a clever reinterpretation – the Gra was referring to Yerushalmi. And in the Yerushalmi, the author avers, Berachot is indeed the longest tractate by words. In a collection[1] of “trivia” that Rav Chaim Kanievsky was wont to discuss with his grandchildren, it is quoted that he said Berachot is the longest mesechta in Yerushalmi. That assertion is indeed much closer to being accurate but is still not correct.

In the Bar Ilan responsa project there are two versions of the Yerushalmi, the Vilna edition with almost 795k words and the Venice edition with almost 815k words, both considerably shorter than the Bavli.

In the Vilna edition of the Yerushalmi, the four largest tractates with their word count are:

Shabbat (47,685)
Yevamot (44,369)
Sanhedrin (40,008)
Berachot (39,478).

Using the Venice edition, the top four are:

Shabbat (49,161)
Yevamot (45,293)
Berachot (41,030)
Sanhedrin (41,004)

In the Yerushalmi too, one can use the monumental one-volume Yerushalmi edited by Zvi Preisler (Ketuvim Publishers, Jerusalem, 2006) to estimate the size of masechtot. Counting pages in this volume, the longest masechtot (and number of pages) are: Shabbat (37) and Yevamot (32 ⅔). This is followed by Brachot (30), Sanhedrin (29 7/9) and Pesachim (26 ⅔).

While these numbers are clearly influenced by many extrinsic factors such as which ms text used, abbreviations opened or closed, etc, they demonstrate that although Berachot is much closer to being the largest tractate in the Yerushalmi than it is in the Bavli, it is still behind the unquestioned largest in Bavli and Yerushalmi, Shabbat, and behind Yevamot.

Did the Gra actually make such a statement about what is the largest tractate in shas? There are no early records of it and I have not been able to find any mention of such a claim earlier than the late 20^th century. Irrespective, the rumor that he stated that Berachot is the largest is fairly “common knowledge”. Yet it is clear using both counting ms pages and computer tabulated results, Berachot is far from being the largest in either the Bavli or Yerushalmi. Berachot does have one claim to fame in regard to size; it is by far the most words/pages.

New Book Announcement

Eliezer Brodt

The Minchas Chinuch on Pesach Volume One, A deeper perspective on the Mitzvos of Leil Haseder (31+268 pp.)

The Minchas Chinuch on Pesach volume Two, A deeper perspective on the Mitzvos of Chametz (34+283 pp.)

I would like to announce the release of two new volumes from Rabbi Moshe Hubner series devoted to the the Minchas Chinuch, in English.

The first volume, released right before Pesach last year, is devoted to the mitzvos of leil haseder, including the mitzvah of matzah and sippur yetzias Mitzrayim.

The second volume which was just published is devoted to the mitzvos of chametz. Topics include eliminating chametz; the prohibition of finding and/or seeing chametz in our domain (bal yira’eh, bal yimatzeh); the prohibition of eating chametz; the prohibition of eating chametz erev Pesach; the prohibition of chametz-mixtures; and the brachah of Shehechiyanu upon the arrival of Pesach.

One of the most famous and popular sefarim of the Torah world is R’ Yoseph Babad’s Minchas Chinuch, first published in 1869. Since then, numerous editions were published, including annotations of many Gedolei Yisrael alongside full-length works on the sefer. It is famous for bringing a whole level of depth to the sugya at hand.

Now, for the first time ever, the English-reading audience can appreciate the greatness and uniqueness of the Minchas Chinuch! 

This new work is not a simple translation of the Minchas Chinuch, but rather an in-depth presentation. It incorporates all the background information necessary to understand the Minchas Chinuch in a clear, concise manner. It also includes numerous, beautifully designed charts (produced by Mechon Aleh Zayis) to help one follow the deep, “lamdushe” discussions.

In addition, many of the commentaries who analyze the Minchas Chinuch’s words (at times offering rebuttals or proofs) have been quoted, (collected from a few hundred sefarim, listed in a detailed bibliography) and scrutinized carefully.

It’s a crash course in lomdus within each page!

Currently, there is nothing similar available for the English-reading audience. High school students to post-kollel yungeleit can all enjoy the Yom Tov on another level with these groundbreaking new volumes.

For samples of the seforim email Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

One can listen to a podcast interview with Nachi Weinstein on Seforim Chatter with R’ Moshe Hubner discussing his English adaptions of Minchas Chinuch on Pesach [here].

Copies of the work can be purchased at Mizrachi books via these links (here and here) or by sending him an email at bluebirds15@yahoo.com

Here is a Table contents of each work.

Volume 1:

Volume II:

Special Italian Haftarah for the “Shabbat Kallah”[1]

By Eli Duker

Many communities in Europe and beyond had the practice of reciting a special haftarah from Isaiah 61–62 in honor of a groom on the Shabbat following the wedding.[2] Ashkenazi communities began the haftarah with 61:10 and read until 63:9,[3] which is also the 7th of the haftarot of consolation, which is which was read in most communities on the Sabbath before Rosh Hashanah, and in some others on the Shabbat between Yom Kippur and Sukkot in the event that there was one in a given year.[4]

As the practice to read the seven haftarot of consolation was universal outside in Italy in the late Medieval period, humashim and haftarah books had no reason to cite this practice, as the special haftarah for a groom was read during the calendrical cycle, and was in any event included in the humash for that purpose.

Italy is the exception. The practice in Italy was, and is, not to read special haftarot for the entire three-week period before Tisha B’Av or on the seven Shabbatot between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah.[5] Rather, a special haftarah is read on the Sabbath before Tisha B’Av and haftarot of consolation are read on the three remaining Sabbaths of the month of Av. The normal haftarah for Pinhas, a rarity in most communities, is read in Italy every year. Matot, Masei, Shoftim, Ki Tetze, Ki Tavo, and Nitzavim all have their own haftarot, which are found in the Cairo Geniza, Siddur R’ Shelomo B’Rabbi Nattan,[6] and in the list of haftarot in the Seder Tefillot of the Rambam.

The result is that in Italy, the haftarah from Isaiah is read only in honor of a groom. Out of the twenty-five Italian humashim and haftarah books in manuscript that I checked, the haftarah for the groom appears in twenty-three of them.[7] Out of the remaining two, one is missing pages at the end and likely had it in the original.

All twenty-three manuscripts have Isaiah 61:9 as the start of the haftarah. In all manuscripts besides one, the haftarah ends at 62:9, which is similar to the practice today in Italian communities, while in one manuscript it ends at 62:12.

One manuscript sticks out: Paris, National Library of France, Ms. hebr. 102. This is a book of haftarot and all of Ketuvim that was copied by Aryeh ben Eliezer Halfon for Rafael ben Yitzhak Malmassa of Voghera in northern Italy and completed on the 11th of Marheshvan 5242 (corresponding to October 4, 1481 in the Julian calendar).

The haftarot are similar to other manuscripts that follow the Italian rite (Jeremiah 1:1–19 for Shemot, Isaiah 18:7–19:24 for Bo, regular haftarot for the two weeks following the fast of 17 Tammuz and for the month of Elul, and the haftarah for the Sabbath of Hol Hamo’ed Sukkot is Ezekiel 38:1–23). There are slight differences concerning the haftarot for the parshiyot of Mishpatim,[8] Vayikra,[9] Tzav,[10] and Metzora.[11]

Interestingly, there is a note before the groom’s haftarah that reads, L’Shabbat Lifnei Hilula, indicating that the haftarah was read not during the “Sheva Brachot” week following the wedding, but before the wedding.[12]

What is unique is yet another nuptial haftarah. Afterward, a haftarah from Isaiah 60:1–19 appears, which is the same haftarah read in non-Italian communities on the sixth Sabbath of consolation, on the Sabbath of Parashat Ki Tavo. Beforehand there a note that reads “Lifnei HaKallah Koddem Hakiddushin.” Although there is no mention of the Sabbath here, the verse from Isaiah 47:4 appears at the end, which according to the practice in Italy was read after the reading of every haftarah. It is therefore clear that it is a haftarah, and highly unlikely that it was read on a weekday.

Evidently, two haftarot were read in honor of the nuptials, one before the “kiddushin” and the other before the “hilula,” as it is highly unlikely that the copyist here used two different phrases for the same event. Moreover, it does not seem likely that the marrying couple were in different synagogues on the Sabbath before the wedding, as towns generally had only one, and travel between different places took time.

The reason for the two haftarot has to do with yet another unique Italian practice. R’ Yosef Colon cites the practice of the native Italian Jews to perform an initial kiddushin privately in front of two witnesses “because they fear witchcraft.”[13] Later, at the nissuin, the kiddushin was performed again in the presence of a quorum of ten men.[14] This seems to be what the word hilula here means (the celebaration of the Nessuin along with the second Kiddushin) Presumably, the reason why Isaiah 60 was chosen to be read before the bride prior to the kiddushin is either that the haftarah addresses Jerusalem in the feminine form. Alternatively, we can suggest that the kiddushin, unlike nissuin, primarily affects the bride, as she is now forbidden as a married woman to all beside her betrothed husband while they would continue to live apart, with the mutual obligations of married life coming into place only after the nissuin, which was created by the “Hillula.

Bibliography

Genizah Fragments (All Cambridge TS B)

14.2, 14.65, 14.74 14.90, 14.105 14.119 16.5, 16.9, 20.1, 20.3, 20.4, 20.5, 20.6, 20.8, ,20.9 20.11

Manuscripts

Library of the Alliance Israélite Universelle, Paris, France Ms. 11

The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Oxford, England Ms. Can. Or. 75 Borja Library, Sant Cugat del Vallès, Spain Ms. C-I-1

Casanatense Library, Rome, Italy Ms. 2898

Casanatense Library, Rome, Italy Ms. 2919

The British Library, London, England Add. 4709

The British Library, London, England Harley 7621

The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, New York, NY, USA Ms. 571 The National Library of France, Paris, France Ms. hebr. 42

The National Library of France, Paris, France Ms. hebr. 50

The National Library of France, Paris, France Ms. hebr. 102

The National Library of France, Paris, France Ms. hebr. 104

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm. 1840

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm. 2015

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm. 2024

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm. 2127

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm. 2169

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2171

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2538

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2171

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2538

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2690

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2822

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2856

The Palatina Library, Parma, Italy Cod. Parm 2894

Trinity College Library, Cambridge, England Ms. F 12 107

Vatican Library, Vatican City, Vatican City State Ms. Ross. 478

Printed Books

(חמשה חומשי תורה. (תק“ב מנטובה

מהרי”ל. מנהגים (תשמ”ט ירושלים: מכון ירושלים)

משנה תורה לרמב”ם–יד החזקה. (תשל”ד ירושלים)

סידור רבינו שלמה ברבי נתן הסיג’ילמסי. ערוך ומתרגם מערבית. שמואל חגי. (תשנ”ה ירושלים)

פיוטי ר’ יהודה בירבי בנימן / יוצאים לאור בצירוף מבוא, חילופי נוסח וביאורים בידי שולמית אליצור. (תשמ”ט ירושלים: מקיצי נרדמים)

שו”ת מהרי”ק. (תש”ל ירושלים)

אנצקלופדיה תלמודית–כרך עשירי. (תשנ”ב ירושלים: מכון האנציקלופדיה התלמודית)

 ברית כהונה. משה הכהן. (תש”א ג’רבא)

נישואין נוסח איטליה: על יהודי איטליה בראשות העת החדשה. ויינשטיין, ר. (תשס”ז)

עולם כמנהגו נוהג: פרקים בתולדות המנהגים הלכותיהם וגלגוליהם. יצחק (אריק) זימר. (תשע“ט ירושלים: מרכז זלמן שזר לחקר תולדות העם היהודי)

(סדר קידושין אחרי חתימת התלמוד: מחקר היסטורי דוגמתי בתולדות ישראל. פרימן, א. (תשכ”הירושלים: מוסד הרב קוק

Weinstein, R. (2004) Marriage Rituals Italian Style: A Historical Anthropological Perspective on Early Modern Italian Jews. Leiden: Brill.

Notes

[1] This article is written in honor of the upcoming wedding of my niece Chana Duker to Aryeh Mateh and in order to show the boundless gratitude I have to Chana and the entire family of my brother and sister-in-law R. Yehoshua and Shayna Duker for the devotion and loving care of our beloved Bubby Selma A”H in her last year. I would like to further thank my brother R. Yehoshua for editing this article, as well as R. Elli Fischer, Dr. Gabriel Wasserman, R. Prof. Jeffrey Woolf, Dr. Ezra Chwat and the staff of the National Library of Israel for their assistance.
[2] See S. Elitzur’s introduction to “Piyyutei R’ Yehudah Biribi Binyamin” p. 60, regarding the haftarah apparently appearing in piyyut of R’ Yehudah, who (according to Elitzur pp. 72–77) lived in the east (most likely Bavel) sometime between the mid-9th century and the end of the 10^th century. ³ For a discussion of the medieval Ashkenazi practices concerning this haftarah and its relative importance in Western vs Eastern Ashkenaz, see E. Zimmer “Society and Its Customs” (Hebrew) vol. 2. pp. 273–280. The haftarah was read, along with the various piyyutim recited, on the Sabbath following the wedding. This is more reasonable, as that is during the period of the celebration mandated by the Talmud, while beforehand is prior to the kiddushin (outside of Italy, as will be discussed later on), making liturgical changes unlikely. The manuscript presented here is a clear exception to this.

The reading of the groom’s haftarah on the Sabbath following the wedding is explicit in the Maharil (Minhagim: Four Parshiot 7, p. 417), where it is stated that if wedding takes place during the week of Shabbat Shirah, one reads the normal haftarah.
[4] See Talmudic Encyclopedia (Hebrew) Vol X., p. 22 and footnote 367–378א.
[5] Unlike the Nusah Hatefillah, where Italian Jewry retained more of the nusah of Eretz Yisrael, when it comes to haftarot they are more in line with the haftarot listed in the Babylonian Genizah fragments than any other community. Outside of the four special haftarot that they read between Devarim and Re’eh, the only non Babylonian Haftarah they read is for Shemot, when they read from Jeremiah, as opposed to the original Ezekiel 16.
[6] Pp. 201-202
[7] This haftarah, with the length according the standard Italian rite (Isaiah 61:9-62:10), is cited in the Mantua humash from 1742.
[8] The haftarah finishes at the end of Jeremiah 34, while in the standard Italian rite it continues until 35:11. The shorter haftarah also appears in Ms. Paris BN 42.
[9] The haftarah is Isaiah 43:6–44:23, similar to most other communities today. In other Mss. and printed humashim with the Italian rite, the haftarah ends at 44:6, which is the ending of the haftarah in most Genizah fragments I have seen, as well in the Seder HaTefillot that appears in the Rambam and is the practice in Yemenite communities. Talmudic Encyclopedia (vol.10, pp. 447–448) cites Brit Kehuna, which claims that the Djerban practice is to read this as well, but in Brit Kehuna (p. 33) the standard haftarah until 44:23 is brought.
[10] The main part of the haftarah concludes at 7:31 and then continues with 9:22–23. I have found this haftarah in eight Sephardic humashim in manuscript. It also appears in the Mahzor Vitry, and I have found it in over forty Ashkenazi humashim and haftarah books in manuscript. In other manuscripts and humashim with the Italian rite, the haftarah is from Jeremiah 7:21–28 and then continues at 10:6–7.
[11] The haftarah begins at Kings II 7:1 (similar to other humashim and haftarah books in the Italian rite), and finishes at 8:2 (probably in order to avoid concluding with the death of the official at the conclusion of chapter 7). This haftarah appears in the Ashkenazi Ms. Parma 2005. The standard Italian haftarah (found in all other manuscripts I have seen) skips from the end of chapter 7 and ends with 13:23. This is the haftarah in the Seder HaTefillot in the Rambam and in most Geniza fragments that I have seen.
[12] The earliest mention of a celebration on the Sabbath prior to the wedding is in Maharil (Hilchot Shiva Asar BeTammuz VeTisha B’Av), concerning the possible suspension of the practice to refrain from wearing Sabbath clothing on the Sabbath before Tisha B’Av for a groom and his father due to the “Shpinholz” celebration the Sabbath before the wedding.
[13] Translation from R. Weinstein, “Marriage Ritual Italian Style” p. 163. His translation of the following words are “I am told they then repeat the ceremony in the presence of ten people and in company, and then recite the engagement blessing [again]. I believe that the words “I am told” are part of the previous sentence (regarding the initial kiddushin) as Maharik, as a rabbi and rosh yeshiva in the French/Ashkenaz community, would not likely be a witness in an extremely private ceremony, as opposed to at the subsequent kiddushin where many would attend, and no reason why he would have to rely on hearsay. Moreover, as the vast majority of communities would have kiddushin together with the nissuin at every wedding, a kiddushin at a wedding is not the type of matter that he would mention as having heard from others, as opposed to a rather strange obscure practice in another community.

For an overview of the Italian kiddushin during the time of the copying of our humash and afterward see ibid. chapter 3. For a general overview of the combination of the kiddushin and nissuin acts in general, see A. Freiman, Seder Kiddushin Aharei Hatimat HaTalmud, pp. 28–31. See ibid. 127–131 concerning Italy in general, where the approach is that by the 16th century Italians had combined the kiddushin and nissuin (as opposed to Marriage Ritual, which claims that separating the two was quite normative through the 17th century). This is beyond the scope of this article, which addresses a late 15^th century book. Therefore, Maharik’s testimony concerning the Italian practice suffices, and accords with the custom of the two wedding haftarot.
[14] See Maharik for a justification of this presumably strange practice

When Rabbi Meir Kahane’s Father Translated the Torah

By Yosef Lindell

Yosef Lindell is a lawyer, writer, and lecturer living in Silver Spring, MD. He has a JD from NYU Law and an MA in Jewish history from Yeshiva University. He is one of the editors of the Lehrhaus and has published more than 30 articles on Jewish history and thought in a variety of venues. His website is yoseflindell.wordpress.com.

In 1962, the Jewish Publication Society published a new translation of the Torah. The product of nearly a decade of work, the new edition was the first major English translation to cast off the shackles of the 1611 King James Bible. Dr. Harry Orlinsky, the primary force behind the new translation and a professor of Bible at the merged Reform Hebrew Union College and Jewish Institute of Religion, explained that even JPS’ celebrated 1917 translation was merely a King James lookalike, a modest revision of the Revised Standard Version that “did not exceed more than a very few percent of the whole.”[1] This new edition was different. As the editors wrote in the preface, the King James not only “had an archaic flavor,” but it rendered the Hebrew “word for word rather than idiomatically,” resulting in “quaintness or awkwardness and not infrequently in obscurity.”[2] Now, for the first time, the editors translated wholly anew, jettisoning literalism for maximum intelligibility. More than sixty years later, JPS’ work remains one of the definitive English translations of the Torah.

The new JPS may have left the King James behind, but it didn’t satisfy everyone. In addition to making the Torah more intelligible, the editors incorporated the insights of modern biblical scholarship, both from “biblical archeology and in the recovery of the languages and civilizations of the peoples among whom the Israelites lived and whose modes of living and thinking they largely shared.”[3] So when asked by Rabbi Theodore Adams, the president of the Rabbinical Council of America, whether the RCA could accept an invitation from Dr. Solomon Grayzel, JPS’ publisher, to participate in the new translation, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik demurred. He wrote in a 1953 letter to Adams, “I am afraid that the purpose of this undertaking is not to infuse the spirit of Torah she-be-al peh into the new English version but, on the contrary, … to satisfy the so-called modern ‘scientific’ demands for a more exact rendition in accordance with the latest archeological and philological discoveries.”[4]

Just one year after JPS released its volume, in 1963, R. Soloveitchik’s wish for a more “Torah-true” translation was answered, but likely not in the way he expected. The two-volume Torah Yesharah published by Rabbi Charles Kahane (1905-1978) relies heavily on traditional Jewish commentary in its translation.[5] But as we’ll explore, because of its lack of fidelity to the Hebrew text, it can hardly be called a translation at all.

Here is the title page (courtesy of the Internet Archive):

The strategically placed dots on the title page indicate that Yesharah is an acronym for the author’s Hebrew name—Yechezkel Shraga Hakohen. R. Charles Kahane was born in Safed and received semichah from the Pressburg Yeshiva in Hungary. After immigrating to the United States in 1925 and receiving a second semichah from Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, he served as rabbi of Congregation Shaarei Tefiloh in Brooklyn for most of his professional career, a shul which drew over 2,000 worshippers for the High Holidays.[6] He was a founding member of the Vaad Harabbanim of Flatbush and helped Rabbi Avraham Kalmanowitz re-establish the Mir Yeshiva in Brooklyn. Today, however, he is known as the father of Meir Kahane, the radical and controversial Jewish power activist and politician who needs no further introduction. The father does not seem to have been directly involved in his son’s activities, but he took pride in Meir’s accomplishments and was a staunch supporter of the Irgun in Palestine, Ze’ev Jabotinsky’s Revisionist Zionist movement, and Jabotinsky’s youth group, Betar.[7]

R. Kahane told the New York Times that Torah Yesharah was inspired by Bible classes he gave to his adult congregants where many people did not understand the text even in translation.[8] (Recall that the new JPS translation was not yet available, and other English translations relied on the archaic King James.) He wanted to rectify this problem; indeed, the title page states that the work is a “traditional interpretive translation,” suggesting that it was intended to be more user-friendly. But calling it user-friendly does not do justice to what Kahane did. Here is most of Bereishit 22—the passage of Akedat Yitzchak:

Most translators try to approximate the meaning of the Hebrew. Not so R. Kahane. Nearly every single English verse here contains significant additions not found in the original. The first verse, for example, which states that the Akedah was meant to punish Avraham for making a treaty with Avimelech, follows the opinion of the medieval commentator Rashbam, who, notes that the words “and it was after these things” connect the Akedah to the previous episode—the treaty with Avimelech (Rashbam, Bereishit 22:1). But it’s hard to imagine that Rashbam, famous for his devotion to peshat—plain meaning—would have been comfortable with his explanation being substituted for the translation itself. Many other verses on this page provide additions from Rashi and other commentators. 

Pretty much every page of R. Kahane’s translation looks similar: Hebrew on one side and an expansive interpretive translation drawn from the classical commentators on the other. Kahane makes no effort to distinguish between the literal meaning of the Hebrew and his interpretive gloss.[9] Dr. Philip Birnbaum, the famed siddur and machzor translator, criticizes this aspect of the work in his (Hebrew) review, noting that Kahane’s interpretations are written “as if they are an inseparable part of the Hebrew source, and the simple reader who doesn’t know the Holy Tongue will end up mistakenly thinking that everything written in ‘Torah Yesharah’ is written in ‘Torat Moshe.’”[10]

To be fair, R. Kahane cites sources for his interpretations, but only at the back of each book of the Torah and only in Hebrew shorthand:

Thus, a reader not already fluent in Hebrew and the traditional commentaries would have little idea where Kahane was drawing his “translation” from and might not grasp how much the translation departed from the Hebrew original.[11]

Yet perhaps this was the point. R. Kahane considered literal translation to be illegitimate. In the preface to Torah Yesharah, Kahane contrasts Targum Onkelos, which is celebrated by the Sages, with the Septuagint translation of the Torah into Greek, which the Sages mourned. Kahane suggests that a Targum, which is an interpretation or commentary, is superior to a direct translation. Targum Onkelos, he writes, was composed under the guidance of the Sages and based on the Oral Law, and therefore it was “sanctified.” According to Kahane, “The Torah cannot and must never be translated literally, without following the Oral interpretation as given to Moses on Sinai. … It is in this spirit that the present translation-interpretation has been written.”[12]

Kahane was not the only Orthodox rabbi of his time to criticize translation unfaithful to rabbinic interpretation. We’ve already noted R. Soloveitchik’s concerns about the new JPS.[13] Similarly, the encyclopedist Rabbi Judah David Eisenstein reported that in 1913, when JPS was preparing its initial translation, Rabbi Chaim Hirschenson of Hoboken, NJ, convinced the Agudath Harabbanim to protest JPS’ efforts so the new work should not become the “official” translation of English-speaking Jewry the way the King James had become the official translation of the Church of England. The Agudath Harabbanim noted the Sages’ disapproval of the Septuagint and explained that only Targum Onkelos and traditional commentators that based themselves on the Talmud were officially sanctioned.[14]

R. Kahane’s approach also harks back to a series of articles in Jewish Forum composed in 1928 by Rabbi Samuel Gerstenfeld, a rosh yeshiva at RIETS (a young Rabbi Gerstenfeld is pictured below), attacking the original 1917 JPS translation. Gerstenfeld labeled the JPS translation Conservative and sought to demonstrate its departure from Orthodoxy by comprehensively cataloging all the places where the translation departed from the halakhic understanding of the verse. So, for example, he criticizes JPS for translating the tachash skins used in the construction of the Mishkan as “seal skins,” because according to halachic authorities, non-kosher animal hides cannot be used for a sacred purpose.[15] He believed that the word tachash should be transliterated, but not translated.[16] Gerstenfeld concludes that the JPS translators “missed a Moses—a Rabbi well versed in Talmud and Posekim, who would have been vigilant against violence to the Oral Law.”[17]

Still, R. Kahane’s interpretive translation with additions goes far beyond what R. Gerstenfeld was suggesting. To give one example: Gerstenfeld quibbles with JPS’ translation of the words ve-yarka befanav in the chalitzah ceremony (Devarim 25:9). The 1917 JPS translates that the woman should “spit in his face” (referring to the man who refuses to perform yibbum). Gerstenfeld notes that rabbinic tradition unanimously holds that the woman spits on the ground. He suggests that “and spit in his presence” would be a better translation.[18] Gerstenfeld’s suggestion is reasonably elegant—it gives space for the rabbinic reading without negating the meaning of the Hebrew. Kahane makes no such attempt to be literal, instead translating that she will “spit on the ground in front of his face.”[19] As we’ve seen, Kahane had no compunctions about adding words.

Thus, there is no English-language precedent for Torah Yesharah of which I am aware. As the preface suggests, R. Kahane was inspired by the Aramaic targumim, but it would seem more by Targum Yonatan Ben Uziel than Targum Onkelos. Onkelos translates word-for-word in most circumstances, typically departing from the Hebrew’s literal meaning to address theological concerns, such as a discomfort with anthropomorphism. Targum Yonatan, on the other hand, seamlessly weaves many midrashic additions into its translation and looks more like Torah Yesharah. For example, at the beginning of the Akedah passage, Targum Yonatan goes on a lengthy excursus suggesting that God’s command to sacrifice Yitzchak was in response to a debate between Yitzchak and Yishmael where Yitzchak boasted that he would be willing to offer himself to God. This digression is akin to Kahane’s addition of the Rashbam into his translation. If anything, Targum Yonatan is more expansive than Torah Yesharah.

Torah Yesharah received a fair amount of press upon its publication. It was even reviewed by the New York Times, which called it “[a] new and unusual translation” that was intended to make the Torah “more meaningful to Americans.” The article quoted Rabbi Dr. Immanuel Jakobovits, then the rabbi of the Fifth Avenue Synagogue in Manhattan (before he became Chief Rabbi of the United Kingdom), as calling it “an original enterprise” and “a most specifically Jewish rendering of the Torah.” While the Times was noncommittal about the work, a critical review in the Detroit Jewish News found Kahane’s language confusing and inferior to the new JPS translation published the prior year.[20] As for Dr. Birnbaum, he praised Torah Yesharah’s reliance on traditional Jewish interpretations and lamented the fact that most other biblical translations “were borrowed from the Christians from the time of Shakespeare,” but criticized the format (as noted above) and some of Kahane’s more tendentious translations.[21]

Despite the interest Torah Yesharah generated, its unique approach was not replicated. One might see echoes of R. Kahane in a better known translation—ArtScroll’s 1993 Stone Edition Chumash. As its editors explained in its preface, the “volume attempts to render the text as our Sages understood it.”[22] To this end, ArtScroll famously follows Rashi when translating “because the study of Chumash has been synonymous with Chumash-Rashi for nine centuries,”[23] even when Rashi is at variance with more straightforward readings of the text. Thus, for example, ArtScroll translates az huchal likro be-shem hashem (Genesis 4:26) based on Rashi as, “Then to call in the name of Hashem became profaned”—a reference to the beginnings of idol worship.[24] However, a more literal translation would run, “Then people began to call in the name of God,” which sounds like a reference to sincere prayer—the opposite of idolatry. It’s also well-known that ArtScroll declines to translate Shir Ha-Shirim literally, adapting Rashi’s allegorical commentary in place of translation.

On the other hand, ArtScroll’s overall approach is different than Torah Yesharah’s. ArtScroll is typically quite literal, translating word-for-word even when the syntax of the verse suffers as a result. An example from the Akedah is again relevant: va-yar ve-hinei ayil achar ne’echaz ba-sevach be-karnav (Genesis 22:13). ArtScroll’s translation, that Abraham “saw—behold, a ram!—afterwards, caught in the thicket,”[25] is awkward, but it preserves the word achar in the precise location that it appears in the Hebrew. When ArtScroll wants to highlight more traditional interpretations of the text in line with Chazal and others, it does so in the commentary, not in the translation itself.[26]

Two recent works—the Koren Steinsaltz Humash (2018) and the Chabad Kehot Chumash (2015)—are much closer to Torah Yesharah in that they insert commentary directly into the English translation. But they still differ in an important respect. Both the Steinsaltz—which is a translation of a Hebrew Humash based on the classes of Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz—and the Kehot “interpolate” a good deal of commentary into the translation (the former is more peshat based and the latter leans more on Rashi and Midrash). Nevertheless, they distinguish between what’s literal and what’s added by using bold font for the literal translation. This approach still has its downsides, as it can still be hard to read the English cleanly without the added gloss getting in the way of the literal meaning.[27] But it’s preferable to Torah Yesharah, where R. Kahane did not provide the reader any means of distinguishing between the text and his additions.

Today, Torah Yesharah is but a historical curiosity. Yet its existence highlights the fact that some mid-20th century Orthodox Jews felt a real need for a translation that followed in the footsteps of Chazal and other traditional commentators. To them, JPS’ translation did not embrace an authentic Torah approach. Before ArtScroll came on the scene, Torah Yesharah filled that niche for a time, but its unusual format blurred the line between the Word of God and the words of His interpreters.

Yosef Lindell is a lawyer, writer, and lecturer living in Silver Spring, MD. He has a JD from NYU Law and an MA in Jewish history from Yeshiva University. He is one of the editors of the Lehrhaus and has published more than 30 articles on Jewish history and thought in a variety of venues. His website is yoseflindell.wordpress.com.

[1] Harry M. Orlinsky, “The New Jewish Version of the Torah: Toward a New Philosophy of Bible Translation,” Journal of Biblical Literature 82:3 (1963): 251.
[2] The Torah: The Five Books of Moses (The Jewish Publication Society, 1962), Preface.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Community, Covenant, and Commitment: Selected Letters and Communications (Nathaniel Helfgot, ed., KTAV, 2005), 110.
[5] Charles Kahane, ed., Torah Yesharah (Torah Yesharah Publication: Solomon Rabinowitz Book Concern, NY, 1963).
[6] To the New York Times, Kahane described the shul as “progressive Orthodox,” and it likely lacked a mechitzah. See Robert I. Friedman, The False Prophet: Rabbi Meir Kahane (Lawrence Hill Books, 1990), 20. That, however, was not unusual for those times.
[7] The biographical information in this paragraph is drawn from Friedman (see previous note) and Libby Kahane, Rabbi Meir Kahane: His Life and Thought (Institute for the Publication of the Writings of Rabbi Meir Kahane, 2008).
[8] Richard F. Shepard, “Rabbi Publishes New Bible Study; Works on Early Scholars Are Reinterpreted,” New York Times (June 21, 1964), 88.
[9] Here is another example of a large interpretive insertion concerning God’s decision that Moshe and Aharon would not lead the people into Israel because of their sin regarding the rock (Bamidbar 20:12):

That’s quite a few more words than are found in the Hebrew!
[10] Paltiel Birnbaum, “Targum Angli be-Ruah ha-Masoret,” in Pleitat Sofrim: Iyyunim ve-Ha’arakhot be-Hakhmat Yisrael ve-Safrutah (Mossad Harav Kook, 1971), 75.
[11] Of note, Kahane’s translation is available on Sefaria, but with modifications that obscure its radicalness. For one, the format is different: the Hebrew and English are not juxtaposed in the same way. Second, the sources for each verse are cited directly below the translation in parentheses. This is not the way Kahane presented his sources in the original.
[12] Torah Yesharah, xviii-ix.
[13] Among the most intriguing critics of the new JPS was Avram Davidson, who wrote in Jewish Life in 1957 that because the translation was being prepared by non-Orthodox scholars who intended to depart occasionally from the Masoretic text in light of new archaeological discoveries, it was not “being prepared on the Torah’s terms” and was unacceptable. A.A. Davidson, “A ‘Modern’ Bible Translation,” Orthodox Jewish Life 24:5 (1957): 7-11. Davidson later became a science fiction writer of some renown but by the end of his life had become enamored with a modern Japanese religion called Tenrikyo.
[14] J.D. Eisenstein, ed., Otzar Yisrael vol. 10 (New York, 1913), 309. See also the criticism of the 1962 JPS translation and the discussion of Eisenstein and R. Gerstenfeld’s article in Sidney B. Hoenig, “Notes on the New Translation of the Torah – A Preliminary Inquiry,” Tradition 5:2 (1963): 172-205.
[15] Samuel Gerstenfeld, “The Conservative Halacha,” The Jewish Forum 11:10 (Oct. 1928): 533.
[16] Indeed, ArtScroll’s Stone Chumash leaves tachash untranslated. Interestingly, R. Kahane just translates “sealskins” like JPS.
[17] Samuel Gerstenfeld, “The Conservative Halacha,” The Jewish Forum 11:11 (Nov. 1928): 576.
[18] Ibid., 575-76.
[19] Torah Yesharah, 331.
[20] Philip Slomovitz, “Purely Commentary,” Detroit Jewish News (Aug. 21, 1964), 2.
[21] Birnbaum, 76. It’s interesting that Birnbaum was far more critical of non-literal translations of the siddur. When the RCA incorporated the poetic translations of the British novelist Israel Zangwill into its 1960 siddur edited by Rabbi Dr. David de Sola Pool, Birnbaum wrote a scathing review in Hadoar, accusing Zangwill’s efforts as being “free imitations,” not translations, and of having Christian influence. Paltiel Birnbaum, “Siddur Chadash Ba le-Medinah,” Hadoar 40:6 (Dec. 9, 1960): 85. Birnbaum may have been jealous of the RCA’s siddur, which was a direct competitor to his 1949 edition. Also, he was unimpressed with Zangwill in particular, who had married a non-Jew and was not halakhically observant. For more about this, see my article in Lehrhaus here.
[22] Nosson Scherman, ed., The Stone Edition Chumash (Mesorah Publications, 1993), xvi.
[23] Ibid.
[24] Ibid., 23.
[25] Ibid., 103.
[26] Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan’s 1981 Living Torah translation also bears some resemblance to Torah Yesharah in its tendency to follow Chazal, but it too, despite its exceedingly colloquial approach to translation, does not insert large interpretive glosses into the text.
[27] R. Steinsaltz calls the commentary “transparent” and “one whose explanations should go almost unnoticed and serve only to give the reader and student the sense that there is no barrier between him or her and the text,” but I am not sure I agree. See The Steinsaltz Humash (Koren Publishers, 2015), ix. 

“Milta De’Bedichuta”: Some Playful Parodies of the Talmud in the Modern Period

By Ezra Brand

6-Mar-23

Ezra Brand is an independent researcher based in Tel Aviv. He has an MA from Revel Graduate School at Yeshiva University in Medieval Jewish History, where he focused his research on 13th and 14th century sefirotic Kabbalah. He is interested in using digital and computational tools in historical research. He has contributed a number of times previously to the Seforim Blog (tag), and a selection of his research can be found at his Academia.edu profile. He can be reached at ezrabrand@gmail.com; any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.

Intro

The origins of Jewish humor are debated, with some linking it to Eastern Europe and others to a more distant time and place. Recognition of Jewish humor as first-rate gained popularity at the end of the 19th century.[1]

I previously wrote on the Seforim Blog about humor in the Talmud.[2] In this piece, my focus will be on parodies of the Gemara written for Purim, known as “Purim Dafs”. Roni Cohen, at the beginning of his 2021 dissertation on Medieval Parodies for Purim, describes the earliest known parodies on the Talmud written for the holiday of Purim:

The first, Massekhet Purim (Purim tractate), is a parody of the Talmud written by the Provençal translator, philosopher, and writer Kalonymos ben Kalonymos, during the period he lived in Rome, between 1324 – 1328. The other two – Megilat Setarim (esoteric scroll), a parody on the Talmud and Sefer Habakbuk (the book of Habakbuk), a parody of the Hebrew Bible – were both written by the Provençal philosopher, astronomer, and bible commentator Rabbi Levi ben Gerson (Gersonides) in 1332.[3]

When written for Purim, the Talmud parodies are often known as “Purim Dafs”. This is something I tried my hand at when I was in yeshiva.[4]

In this piece I’d like to give a number of examples of modern parodies of the Talmud, collected from various locations on the web, listed in chronological order of date first published.[5]

מסכת פורים: מן תלמוד שכורים (1814) ⁶

A satirical discussion of the laws of drinking on Purim.

מסכת עניות מן תלמוד רש עלמא (1878)⁷

A satirical halachic discussion of laws of poverty.

מסכת עמיריקא: מן תלמוד ינקאי (1892) ⁸

A satirical halachic discussion of living in America.

מסכת שטרות (1894) ⁹

A satirical halachic discussion of who can sign contracts.

מסכת דרך ארץ החדשה: מתלמודא דארעא חדתא (1898)^10[10]

A satirical halachic discussion of living in America.

מסכת סוחרים (1900)^[11]

A satirical halachic discussion of the laws of merchants.

מסכת אדמונים מן תלמוד בולשבי (1923)^[12]

A satirical discussion of the trivial differences between the socialist Bolsheviks (“red”) and the monarchic Mensheviks (“white”) in the Russian Civil War, which started in 1917.

מסכת פרוהבישן מן תלמוד בטלי (1929)^[13]

A satirical halachic discussion of the laws of drinking alcohol during the period of Prohibition in the United States, which started in 1920.

מסכת פורים תו שין טית וו (1955)^[14]

A satirical halachic and aggadic discussion of Israeli elections.

מסכת המן (1975)^[15]

A satirical halachic discussion regarding Haman.

מסכת אב”כ שומע קול צופר (1991)^[16]

A satirical halachic discussion of wearing of gas masks during the Iraqi rocket attacks on Israel during First Gulf War in 1991.

הדאנאלד (2016)^[17]

A satirical discussion of the Trump wall.

מסכת קורונא פרק ב’ (2021)^[18]

This parody is a satirical halachic and aggadic discussion surrounding coronavirus, during the COVID-19 pandemic.