By Eliezer Brodt

This article will trace some of the earliest sources for the Minhag observed by many to stay up learning Torah throughout the entire night of Shavuos.[1] At the outset I would like to note that the focus of this article will be not be about the exact seder that was learned i.e. Tikun Lel Shavuos.[2]

Different versions of this article originally appeared in the Kulmos Supplement of Mishpacha in 2014 and then in English in 2015. I returned to all this in my doctorate Halachic Commentaries to the Shulchan Aruch on Orach Chayim from Ashkenaz and Poland in the Seventeenth Century.[3] This post contains important additions to some of the earlier versions. One day I hope to update it properly.

That the minhag of staying up on Shavuos night to learn was observed widely in recent history is very clear. For example, the author of a nineteenth-century Lithuanian memoir describes how her brothers would stay up the entire night.[4]

In a memoir about Yeshivas Lomza, the author writes in passing “after staying up the whole night, the whole yeshiva would take part in a milchig kiddush at the Rosh Yeshiva’s house”.[5]

Chaim Grade writes: “On the First night of Shavuoth, the lamps in the Beth Medrash and the candelabra were still lit well past midnight. The benches were packed with men from the courtyard and from the neighboring streets who, as the custom on this night, came to study until dawn.”[6] Grade’s books are fiction, but his descriptions are based on life in Vilna.

A bochur describing Shavous in the Mir to his parents in 1938, writes in passing that the bnei hayeshiva had stayed up the whole night learning.[7]

Rav Chaim Stein, Rosh Yeshivah of Telz wrote an incredible World War II diary chronicling his great Mesiras Nefesh for whatever mitzvos he was able to do during that time. He also describes staying up the entire night learning.[8]

But what are the earliest sources for this practice? It is not mentioned by either R. Yosef Caro or the Rama in Shulchan Aruch’s discussion of the halachos of Shavuos.

One of the earliest printed sources for this custom is a work entitled Sefer Ha-Mussar, authored by Rav Yehudah Kalatz and first printed in 1537, which states that there was a custom to stay up throughout both nights of Shavuos to learn various parts of Tanach and Kabbalah.[9] Today we know that the prior written source for this piece is Rav Dovid ben Rav Yehudah Hachassid.[10] This piece is also printed in the Mateh Moshe of Rav Moshe Meis (1591) without citing its source.[11] In 1558, the Zohar was printed for the first time, and in it we find that “righteous ones” would learn Torah during the entire night of Shavuos.[12] These words of the Zohar are already quoted in two early and important collections of material culled from the Zohar, the Mareh Cohen of Rav Yisachar Katz,[13] first printed in 1588 and in the Yesh Sachir of Rav Yisachar M’Karmintz,[14] first printed in 1609. It is also brought down in important works such as Rav Moshe Makir’s classic Seder HaYom [first printed in 1599],[15] Tikunei Shabbos (1613),[16] Tur Barekes (1650),[17] Heichal Hakodesh (1653)[18] and Sha’arei Tzion (1662).[19]

From the Zohar it appears that this practice is limited to yechidei segulah, select spiritually exalted individuals. This is also how it appears that some sources that quote this Zohar, such as the Heichal Hakodesh, Magen Avraham,[20] Eliyah Rabba[21] and Me’orei Or,[22] understood it.

A number of gedolei Torah themselves wrote of having stayed up learning the whole night of Shavuos. In his Sefer Chizyonos, R’ Chaim Vital writes that he stayed up the whole night of Shavuos learning with the Arizal.[23] The Chida writes in the account of his travels[24] and in his autobiographical cheshbon hanefesh of having done so,[25] as does the Aderes.[26]

But other sources seem to have understood that this is a custom to be followed by all. Rav Moshe Makir in his Seder HaYom writes so clearly, and indeed, in a letter he wrote circa 1610 to Poland, Rav Shlumiel of Tzefas describes how everyone stayed up to learn on Shavuos night in keeping with the Seder HaYom.[27] The Shelah Hakadosh also describes how everyone stayed up learning, as did Rav Moshe Prague in a letter written in 1650 describing the scene in Yerushalayim.[28]

Thus, we see that what was originally a minhag only for the very learned evolved in a few decades into a practice observed by the broad masses. One may conjecture that the spread of the minhag occurred due to the fact that some of the seforim that mentioned it were very popular and widely read.

Another possible catalyst for the popular adoption of this minhag was the promise of the Arizal that “he who stays up the whole night learning will survive the year and not suffer any harm during the entire year.” This guarantee first appeared in a work called Shulchan Aruch Shel Ha-Arizal printed in 1650,[29] and was later reprinted in numerous widely-read works such as Sha’arei Tzion and Sefer Zechirah.[30]

Relatedly, R. Yosef Kapach, discussing the observance of this minhag in Teiman, writes that this night is a special time during which the gates of Heaven are open for the acceptance of tefillos. He cites a legend of a woman who was looking outside a window and she asked for her head to be made bigger. When that occurred, she could not get her head back inside through the window. It thus became necessary to feed her for the duration of the Yom Tov by means of a ladder, and it was only after Yom Tov, when the window could be broken, that she was finally extricated.[30]

Yet another reason this minhag may have become so widespread relates to the Maggid, the Heavenly emissary that would regularly visit the Beis Yosef to teach him Torah. The Shelah Hakadosh quotes from a lengthy letter that Rav Shlomo Alkabetz wrote describing the events of one particular Shavuos.[32]

Rav Shlomo Alkabetz writes that he and Rav Yosef Caro along with some others in their circle decided to stay up the whole night of Shavuos learning a specific seder limud from Tanach and Mishnayos. At about midnight, a voice was heard emanating from the throat of Rav Yosef Caro praising them for staying up to learn Torah and advising them that it would be even more praiseworthy if they were to do so with a minyan. And, indeed, the next night, the scene was repeated, this time with a minyan present.

This letter was first printed in 1646 in the introduction to the first edition of the Magid Meisharim, which records the teachings that the Magid conveyed through the Beis Yosef. It was then reprinted by the Shelah Hakadosh in 1648[33] and in the very popular and somewhat controversial anonymous work Chemdas Yomim in 1731.[34]These last two sources contributed to widespread knowledge of the story of the Magid of the Beis Yosef, which, in turn, enabled the minhag of learning throughout Shavuos night to become even more popular.

In order to consider some possible reasons for the Rav Yosef Caro’s omission of this minhag from both his Shulchan Aruch and his commentary on the Tur, despite the fact that he was personally told by the Magid about the great importance of remaining awake throughout Shavuos night to learn Torah, it is important to first discuss some issues related to the Magid Meisharim.

Many Gedolim merited visits from Magidim who taught them secrets of Torah, but the most famous person to have been so visited was Rav Yosef Caro. Magid Meisharim, the work that emerged from those visits, is comprised mostly of Kabbalistic teachings, although there is some Halachic discussion there as well. Was that work intended only for Rav Yosef Caro or for the general Jewish populace as well? When there is a contradiction between this work and the Shulchan Aruch, according to which of these works are we to rule?

From the fact that numerous Poskim quote from the Magid Meisharim in their halachic works, it would seem that that at least some of the material was intended for everyone. One famous example concerns eating meat on Rosh Hashanah, which the Magid told Rav Yosef Caro not to do.[35] The Magen Avraham and other poskim bring this down, implying that they felt the halachic material in this work is applicable to the masses.[36] Many other examples this are collected in a series of articles written by Rav Klieres in the Torah journal Tzefunot.[37] However, the Munkatcher Rebbe held that the Magid Meisharim was intended for Rav Yosef Caro alone.[38]

A careful examination of the sefer shows that it also contains many hanhagos, practices that are not mandated by Halacha per se, but are recommended for a righteous person to adopt. Some feel that these pieces were meant for the masses, whereas others are of the opinion that these too were meant only for Rav Yosef Caro to follow.[39] Staying up on Shavuos night could be an example of such an hanhaga.[40] There is no halachic obligation to do so, but, as we have seen, it was widely practiced by righteous people, and sometimes the masses adopt such practices.

However, Rav Yaakov Emden brings from his father, the Chacham Tzvi, that the Magid Meisharim did not influence his halachic rulings in any way.[41] In his siddur, Rav Yaakov Emden writes that it is well-known that the Beis Yosef and Rav Shlomo Alkabetz stayed up Shavuos night and were visited by the voice of the Magid, but that this does not obligate the masses to follow suit.[42]

Based on the above, it becomes understandable why R. Yosef Caro did not cite the custom to stay up on Shavuos night in his halachic works despite knowing very well its importance from his Shavuos night experience with the Magid. As important a practice as it is, in his opinion it was not intended for the broader community.

In truth, there may well be more to the story of why Rav Yosef Caro did not bring this custom down in his halachic works. The Gemarah in Bava Metzia (59b) sets forth is the principle of “Lo BaShamayim Hi“, meaning that the halachic process is not influenced by other-worldly revelations such as a Heavenly voice telling us what to do, or the like.[43] Rav Akiva Yosef Schlesinger uses this axiom to explain why we do not find Rav Yosef Caro bringing anything he learned from the Magid in his Beis Yosef or Shulchan Aruch.[44] This general approach is found by numerous Achronim to dismiss material found in such ‘heavenly’ works to reach halachic conclusions. To list some: R. Alexander Moshe Lapidus,[45] R. Aron Mi-Pinsk,[46] R’ Yitzchack Issac Chaver,[47] and R. Yaakov Emden.[48]

However, the question remains as to why the principle Lo BaShamayim Hi did not prevent various poskim from citing works like that of the Magid in halachic discussions. For example, numerous poskim quote rulings from the Sh’ailos v’Teshuvos Min Hashamayim, in which a rishon collected the responses he received from Heaven in his dreams to questions he had posed before going to sleep.[49]

One possible explanation as to why some poskim cite these works is based on an idea found in the work Seder Mishnah by Rav Zev Wolf Boskovitz.[50] Rav Boskovitz writes that one can rely on such works when their conclusions are not contradicted by anything in Shas.

Other achronim, however, hold that the principle of Lo BaShamayim Hi is applicable under all circumstances and thus, we are not to rely on works like the Magid Meisharim and Sh’ailos v’Teshuvos Min Hashamayim for practical guidance. Perhaps, then, Rav Yosef Caro held a similar position as these achronim and for this reason never quotes the Magid in his halachic works.

One final point: According to most of the early sources for this Minhag, it is based on Kabbala and was originally intended only for the most learned of the community, but eventually became the minhag of the masses too. However, it is interesting that the Magan Avraham, after quoting the Zohar as the earliest source for this minhag, gives his own reason for it.

He writes, based on the Midrash, that at Har Sinai, the Jews slept during the night before the giving of the Torah, and Hashem had to awaken them. As a form of teshuvah for our ancestors’ lack of zeal and appreciation for the Torah at Har Sinai, we stay up the entire night learning.[51]The Magen Avraham thus turned a Kabbalastically based custom into one with a basis in the revealed Torah.

Moreover, while most of the sources deal with the special seder of learning one is supposed to follow on Shavuos night, the Magan Avraham does not mention such a seder limud, choosing instead to address various halachic questions that arise for those who stay awake through the night, such as the halachos relating to Netilas Yadyim, Birchas Hatorah, the bracha on the Talis and Kriyas Shema Al Hamitah, thereby further giving a halachic focus to this Kabbalistically rooted minhag. In so doing, the Magen Avraham, a preeminent work on Orach Chaim, may have helped ensure the widespread adoption of the minhag of learning throughout Shavuos night.

Augsburg and its Printers: Printer of the Tur in Ashkenaz: Fragments Censored at the Beinecke’s Augsburg Mahzor

By Chaim Meiselman

Last summer, I was at Yale University for a conference. Those who have spent time at Yale University will know that their libraries are separated by major subject, and therefore are situated in different buildings. While I was spending a good amount of the time at the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library for material covering manuscripts, I was able to use downtime for perusing their Rare Book Collection.

This library is a breathtaking edifice erected for books. For those who haven’t had the opportunity to visit it, I highly recommend going, even for a non-research purpose. The reason why I recommend it is because one can see a modern-day example of something which used to be more common during the previous centuries – a temple dedicated to literary craft. As is with many commercial buildings built during the last century, libraries have evolved into storage containers of some kind; this building is built exhibiting manuscripts and books in rich light. Six of the seven stories of volumes are visible from the balcony, where they exhibit items and one can tour the inside.

Here is a picture of the vantage from the inside.

Among their collection of hebrew books is a copy of the very rare imprint of the Machzor ke-seder ha-Ashkenazim, the volume of Machzor printed in Augsburg in 1536 by Haim “ha-mehokek” b. David Shahor (see here). This is a rare and revolutionary title for a number of reasons, some of which I’ll write here.

While I own a facsimile of the Shahor volume, I’ve never before held it in hand. It is about the size of a large size Mechon Yerushalayim Tur, thinner though. The pages were darkened by light exposure but the type was still fresh. More below on his imprint of Tefillos.

The first question (which is relevent to what discovery i will share here) is – who is Haim Shahor. Hayyim b. David Shahor was among the earliest printers of Hebrew books north of the Alps; born in the late 15th century, likely in Ashkenaz, he was involved earlier in Hebrew print than Bomberg and Giustiani, and earlier than Bak, Prosstitz, and Jaffe in ‘Ashkenaz’. He is documented as having printed in tiny hamlets earlier than 1535 – Heddernheim, Oels (Schliesen), yet more famously Augsburg.

Augsburg was where Shahor printed his Siddur, his Machzor, and his Turim. Comparably few copies were created; for every Augsburg volume, Moritz Steinschneider (CLHB) writes “fol. Rara” or “ed. Rara”. Libraries which contain volumes of Hebrew Incunabula often don’t contain a print of Shahor, certainly not an Augsburg volume – they are extremely scarce.

There have been claims that Shahor may have been a Christian printer disguising himself as a Jew. These are very unlikely, and probably aren’t true; in one of the Augsburg printings, a long Tefillah and colophon puts this claim in doubt.

I am pasting copies of the one scanned on Hebrewbooks.org. However, this scan is extremely low resolution, even for HB. If there is a high resolution scan done of the volume, one will be able to see the precise and sharp magnificence of this font, almost like that of Ketav Ashurit. This is an adaptation of the Ashkenazic script from manuscripts centuries older, and it carries that appearance somewhat.

As I see it, it is highly unlikely that this was a Christian family printing – Yosef b. Yakar writes to his brother in law, Ya’akov b. Baruch that he has emended the printing format of the Luach ha-Simanim (in which the Mare’h ha-Mekomot are brief and added are a longer Luach preceding each of the Seder ha-Turim). Many of the examples of the “Luach Gadol” in this Tur no longer exist, making full examples of these even more rare – but they were written in heavy “Rashi script” – and if they aren’t the first tables of contents in printed Hebrew Books, they are almost certainly are the most lengthy and encompassing.

Briefly referenced is a disagreement (regarding this format) with Avraham of Prague, who is a noted editor on the other Augsburg volumes (and selected other Shahor printings).

I will quote a passage from this here: אמנם ראה ידידי … כי לא שמעתי לקולך להדפיס בספר הזה כל אותם ההגהות הארוכים אשר חידש בהם הרב הנ”ל … וכמעט אומר שרוב ההוגותיו “מכלכלים” (מקלקלים) על התלמידים בו … וכן הסכימו עמי. Below, he details exactly what the differences were, and he immediately offers words of thanks for being able to put out this edition, the first Tur to be printed in Ashkenaz, but one which is “without defects”: על כל שבח תהלה והוראה. שהחיינו וקיימנו לזאת השעה. להשלים הטורים ארבעה. אשר אין בו מאומה רעה. It is clear that the novelty of the printed Turim is paramount in the thought of the printers, however what is mentioned and repeated is לחדד התלמידים, כדי שלא יקלקלו התלמידים, and such scripts on the idea of studying the Tur and teaching it to students. This theme isn’t one of Christian influence, especially being that there already was a debate on the proper methods of studying Halacha raging at the time – this language feeds to this writing. Although it was at this time of a smaller scale (because of the not-yet published Bet Yosef and Shulchan Arukh and the later writings on the subject of Rama, Maharal, Maharshal, and R. Yoel Sirkis), the statement completing the enormous printing process was like the one above is directly showing a Rabbinic influence, not a Christian one.

After the letter of Yosef b. Yakar, Shahor writes a “Shevach Tehilla” for finishing the volume. He repeats this theme: בחור תראה | הן תשתאה | ספר נאה | בהדורים |רבה הון מה | לך תתהמה | פן יהיו מה | הד נמכרים … ישמח יסגא | כל בם הוגה | כי ממשגה | הם נשמרים | קונים מהם | יהגו בהם | הם ובניהם | עד דוד דודים | As before, I see it that this is related to the theme of the debate of the proper methods to learn Halacha, and not to neglect the study of Gemara (as it had been in Ashkenaz at the time, according to some accounts.)

Another reason it is highly doubtful that Shahor was a crypto-christian was that his granddaughter married the printer Kalonymus Jaffe, famously as printer (including the printing of the Shas and the Turim) in Lublin. He was the first cousin to R. Mordechai Yaffe, known as the Ba’al ha-Levush; his father Mordechai printed the first copies of the Levushim. This is another hint that Shahor was from a learned Jewish background, not that of a Christian printer. As is documented, from Shahor’s family descended generations of printers in Prague, Krakow, and other centers of printing in Central Europe. See Marvin J. Heller, Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book, pg. 149-151.

In the entry for the Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics (Brill, 2013) title “Hebrew Printing” by Brad Sabin-Hill, it is recorded that Shahor was working among presses owned by Christian humanists; this is likely, in the light of what I will record below.

Leaf 7, the opening leaf of the text of the Tur, is supposedly illustrated by Hans Holbein the Younger (1497-1543), an important late-Renaissance artist originally from Augsburg. I’m not certain where this information is from. Here is the catalog entry from the Selected Catalog of the Valmadonna Trust Selections, which sold at Kestenbaum’s on November 9th.

Back to the Mahzor. Among the differences this Mahzor has with the other editions, one that should be noticeable (as relating to the editor and printer) is the self-censorship of a Piyyut. For the Yom Kippur Piyyutim recited during Shacharit, a Piyyut is supplicated in after אדיר אדירנו. Even though in the Mahzor it is recorded after ובכן יתקדש … ועל מכונך והיכלך, it follows the heading האדיר, and opens another acrostic lines into the Piyyut מי אדיר אפסיך – perhaps this is because of the re-use of the text block for the repeating paragraphs of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur davening.

This is how it appears:

For the Piyyut headed by האדיר, an acrostic begins using Jer. 10:7, מי לא ייראך מלך הגויים, כי לך יאתה: כי בכל-חכמי הגויים ובכל-מלכותם, מאין כמוך. In that Piyyut, there is a portion which was censored in virtually every text. However, the Augsburg Mahzor self-censors three blocks, which would’ve likely been offensive in the eyes of the Church. Although it is possible that he did it out of consideration not to offend the Humanists who had granted him the rights to print (if it is true that this was the case for this printing), it is entirely plausible that he wanted the text to be supplemented by a scribe and didn’t want the internal work of a censor to be involved (both at the time of print and the future viewers).

This is how they look:

Back to the copy at Yale. In the copy I was holding, I saw that it was inscribed with the missing pieces.

There was a scribe who wrote in the margins, crossed through printing mistakes, and marked pieces which would be relevant to a Shaliach Tsibbur. Examples of פזמון, קהל, בניגון, and a type of cantillation abound in the volume by his hand. At the end, he signs his name as ‘Shelomoh b. Ya’akov halevi’ .

The script appears to me to be from the time the volume was printed. It utilizes flourishes and specific criteria of script that I recognize from the hands of (and from the time of) R. Yoel Sirkis, R. David Halevi (Ta”z), and other handwriting of the era.

The themes of the Piyyutim with the inscription additions are now complete, as you can see with my writing below. The paragraphs, especially the second one, are very harsh in their ‘attack’.

First, I will paste photos of the pages:

The writing has faded, and is difficult to make out in some areas. However, I transcribed what was there.

Edited to add: Marc Shapiro pointed out that variants of these paragraphs are in the Goldschmidt Mahzor. I will paste here the my transcription of the written paragraphs in text and Goldschmidt (where he differs strongly) in bold type.

Paragraph one:

הגוים

ובכן מי לא ייראך מלך הגוים וכו

Paragraph two:

מן המים: ובכן מי לא ייראך מלך הגוים…. וכוליה

Paragraph three:

I wrote down the notes in my facsimile copy of the Mahzor with a fountain pen using these transcriptions. This part of the Piyyut will survive.

I saw that the Artscroll Mahzor published a heavily censored element of the first paragraph in the back of the book, with the remaining Piyyutim (which avoids translating it into English, although it had been censored far too much to have posed a problem for them.) It appears truncated, because the other paragraphs of the Piyyut are consistently as long as the above quoted. For example, they write for stanza Daled : דבקיך דבוקים באלהים חיים, which poses grammatical and stylistic problems (eg. no other stanza is four words, it should’ve written דבוקיך, etc.) The stanza above reads: הגוים גדילים מעשיהו תעתוע דבקיך בדולים מסגרי לעץ בולים, which follows the ebb-and-flow, הגוים, and מי לא ייראך.

I also saw in the recently printed Mahzor h-Gra the same few stanzas as Artscroll are published, but also with confusions and clearly censored items.

Finally, this Mahzor contains an interesting addition to another Piyyut, that of היום תאמצינו. In this Mahzor, another stanza is added: היום תדרש דם עבדיך השפוך.

I conclude that among the treasures that have been found, that we find (or are waiting to be discovered) the history awaits in the elements that were in the full view of the public (Jewish and Christian alike) and the censored items, which wait to be discovered and to live new life.

New Book Announcement: Some New Works by Professor Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel

By Eliezer Brodt

עמודים בתולדות הספר העברי, הדר המחבר, 521 עמודים וישמע קולי, 385 עמודים

I am very happy to announce the recent publication of an important work, which will be of great interest to readers of the Seforim blog. The forth volume of, Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri by Professor Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, of Bar-Ilan University’s Talmud department.

As I have written in the past, Professor Spiegel is one of the most prolific writers in the Jewish academic scene, authoring of over 160 articles and 18 books (16 of those are publications for the first time of works which remained in manuscript).  Many suspect that he possesses Hashbot Hakulmos (automatic writing) (about which see here).

His articles cover an incredibly wide range of subjects related to many areas of Jewish Studies, including history of Rishonim, piyutim authored by Rishonim, bibliography and minhaghim, to name but a few. His uniqueness lies not only in the topics but also that his work has appeared in all types of publications running the gamut from academic journals such as Kiryat Sefer, Tarbiz, Sidra, Alei Sefer, Assufot, Teudah, Kovetz Al Yad and also in many prominent Charedi rabbinic journals such a Yeshurun, Yerushasenu, Moriah, Sinai and Or Yisroel. It is hard to define his area of expertise, as in every area he writes about he appears to be an expert!

He has edited and printed from manuscript many works of Rishonim and Achronim on Massekhes Avos and the Haggadah Shel Pesach. He is of the opinion, contrary to that of some other academics, that there is nothing non-academic about printing critical editions of important manuscript texts. Although there is a known “belief” in the academic world, “publish or perish,” which some claim is the cause of weak articles and books, at times, Spiegel’s prolific output does nothing to damper the quality of his works. Another point unique to Speigel’s writings, besides his familiarity with all the academic sources, he shows great familiarity with all the classic sources from Chazal, Geonim, Rishonim and Achronim, to even the most recent discussions in Charedi literature – this bekius (breadth) was apparent well before the advent of search engines of Hebrew books and Otzar Ha-hochmah. Alongside all this is his penetrating analysis and ability to raise interesting points.

Some of these articles were collected into a volume called Pischei Tefilah u-Mo’ad, which was reviewed a few years back here on the seforim blog. This volume is currently out of print.

One of Professor Spiegel’s main areas of interest has been the History of the Jewish Book. He has written numerous articles on the subject and even published two books on this topic in a series called Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri.  Volume one was first printed in 1996 and is called Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri: Haghot u-Maghim. It was reprinted with numerous additions in 2005 (copies are still available). It was reviewed by Dan Rabinowitz and me, a few years back here on the Seforim Blog.

The second volume is called Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri; Kesivah Vehatakah. This volume is currently out of print and will hopeful be the subject of a book review by Dan Rabinowitz and myself in the near future.

The third volume is called Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri;Bisharei Hadefus

I think that anyone who has an interest in the Jewish Book will enjoy this work immensely.

In the near future I hope to review this work in depth.

I am selling copies of this work. Copies are also available at Biegeleisen. For more information about purchasing this work, or for some sample pages, feel free to contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

To get a sense of what exactly this new book is about, I am posting the Table of Contents here:

Also, worth mentioning is about ten months ago Professor Spiegel printed a book from manuscript called וישמע קולי.

Here is the description and Table of contents of the book.

For more information about purchasing this work, or for sample pages of the introduction to this work contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

The
Not-So-Humble Artichoke in Ancient Jewish Sources

Susan
Weingarten

There
has been a lot of discussion of artichokes recently in the wake of
the ruling by the Israeli Rabbinate that they are not kosher. A
recent post on Seforim Blog traced their ancestry as a Jewish food
back to the 14th
century.
But we can go back further, to the talmudic literature, where
artichokes appear as qinras.
We
can identify many Greek (and fewer Latin) food-names in the Aramaic
and Hebrew of the written texts of the talmudic literature. The
rabbis sometimes use Greek terminology to explain food names. Thus,
for example, biblical regulations on agriculture include a ban on
growing two different kinds of crops together. Mishnah Kilayim
tells
us that thistles (qotzim)
are allowed in a vineyard, i.e. they are seen as wild growths, but
artichokes (qinras)
are not allowed, so that it is clear that artichokes are seen as
cultivated rather than wild growths.[1] Qotz,
the wild thistle, is a biblical Hebrew term, while the Aramaic qinras
appears
to be derived from the Greek for artichoke,
kinara
or
kynara.
Artichokes
were carefully cultivated in the Graeco-Roman world; presumably their
name came with the agricultural methods which turned wild thistles
into cultivated artichokes. It is still difficult to know whether the
artichoke proper is meant here, or rather the closely related
cardoon.[2] It is clear, however, that there were a number of edible
thistles which grew wild, and that the artichoke is a cultivated
variety. The medical writer Galen describes the artichoke as
‘overvalued.’[3] This was partly because of its negative health
properties, for he saw it as unwholesome, sometimes hard and woody,
with bitter juice. So he recommends boiling artichokes and adding
coriander if eating them with oil and garum;[4]
or frying them in a pan.

But
Galen’s objections to artichokes may not be merely medical. They
may also be an echo of the attitude we find in Pliny,[5] who tells us
that artichokes were exceptionally prized by the gourmets of Rome,
and that there was a roaring trade in them. Pliny disapproved:

Pliny,
writing in the first century, uses all the tricks of rhetoric to put
over his disapproval of this ridiculous fad of over-valuing
artichokes, and eating them out of season: note the alliteration and
assonance of carduos
with
Cartago and Corduba, which he presumably despised as far-away
provincial cities.[7] He is also indignant about the enormous prices
charged for them, satirising the rich who eat the artichokes as being
lower than the animals who despise them.[8] His diatribe does not
seem to have been generally successful. Artichokes were still clearly
prized in the Roman world of the third and fourth centuries: a mosaic
from the so-called ‘House of the Buffet Supper’ in Antioch shows
them on a silver tray as a first course for dinner.[9] And in a
Palestinian context, another mosaic with what look like two purplish
artichoke heads and a silver bowl, dated to the third century, has
been found recently in excavations of ancient Jerusalem – or rather
Aelia
Capitolina.[10]

The
classical picture of artichokes as food for the rich and upper
classes is confirmed by the talmudic literature. For example, Midrash
Esther Rabbah, writes:

S.
Klein in his article ‘Bar-Yohannis from Sepphoris at Rome,’
suggested
that this may be the first reference to the famous Roman Jewish
artichoke dish carciofi
alla giudia.[12]
(For a recipe see E. Servi Machlin The
Classic Cuisine of the Italian Jews
[NY,1981,
1993] p. 180-1). Unfortunately there is no proof to confirm Klein’s
charming suggestion, since, as we have seen, artichokes seem to have
been famously popular among the Roman pagan nobility.[3] One of the
reasons for the perceived desirability of artichokes as food may also
have been the effort needed to prepare them – an effort usually
only available to the rich through their slaves – the poor would
have had little time for this. But one time when the poorer Jews
would have had time would be on a festival, when ordinary work was
not allowed, but food-preparation was permitted, as it contributed to
the enjoyment of the festival. The Tosefta specifically states that
while cutting vegetables was generally not allowed on a festival (in
case people actually went and cut them down in the fields), trimming
artichokes and ‘akavit/‘aqubit,
a wild thorny plant, was allowed, as this was part of the preparation
needed for cooking these prickly vegetables, which was allowed on a
festival:

Whether
poorer people actually ate artichokes as special festival food, or
rather only ate the wild ‘akavit/‘aqubit
is
unclear from this source. It is also unclear what the reason for
trimming was: to remove the thorny stems or to cut off the upper part
of the leaves and remove the inedible inner part known as the
‘choke’?

The
Babylonian Talmud records that artichokes were sent over long
distances to be eaten by Rabbi Judah haNasi. A rich man called Bonias
‘sent Rabbi a measure of artichokes from Nawsah, and Rabbi
estimated it at two hundred and seventeen eggs.’[15] The eggs here
are a measure of volume: clearly there were quite a lot of
artichokes. ‘Nawsah’ may refer to a settlement on an island in
the Euphrates River outside Babylonia.[16] It was a long way from
Galilee where Rabbi lived, and only the rich could afford to pay for
the transport of these luxuries. Some way of preserving the
artichokes, like keeping them in honey-vinegar as described by Pliny
above, must have been used.

Unlike
the classical sources, there is no moral condemnation here of
artichokes as symbols of conspicuous consumption, and tampering with
nature. The rabbis of the Talmudim are generally presented as
appreciative of good food, and as seeing feasting as desirable,
rather than to be condemned.[17] Eating good food, for example, is
one of the recommended ways of celebrating or ‘honouring’ Sabbath
and festival.[18] Indeed, Rabbi himself, when looking back
nostalgically to the time when the Temple still stood, represented
his longing for it in terms of desire for the wonderful foods that
would have been available in that now legendary time.[19]

How
did Rabbi eat his cucumbers and artichokes? Unfortunately the
talmudic literature does not tell us, but there are details in some
Roman authors which may give us some idea of the possibilities.
Athenaeus tells us artichokes must be well-seasoned, or they will be
inedible. The fourth-century Roman cookery book attributed to Apicius
recommends serving artichokes with liquamen
and
oil, and either chopped boiled egg; or cumin and pepper; or pounded
green herbs with pepper and honey.[20] We have already cited Rabbi’s
contemporary, the medical writer Galen, who visited Syria and other
parts of the Near East. He sometimes describes methods of cooking
similar to those found in the talmudic literature.[21] We saw that
Galen recommends eating artichokes boiled with the addition of
coriander, garum
and
oil. He also mentions frying them. Was this the origin of carciofi
alla giudia?

[1]
Mishnah Kilayim v 8.

[2]
The identification of the Latin term cardui
with
artichokes, rather than cardoons, has recently been questioned:C.A.
Wright ‘Did the ancients know the artichoke?’
Gastronomica
9/4
(2009) 21-27.

[3]
Galen On
the powers of foods ii.

[4]
Garum
was
the famous Graeco-Roman salty fermented fish-sauce, called liquamen
by
Apicius, used widely as a condiment. R.I. Curtis Garum
and salsamenta: production and commerce in materia medica (Leiden,
1991); M. Grant Roman
Cookery
(London,
1999); S. Grainger, C.Grocock Apicius:
a critical edition,
(Totnes, 2006)373-387:
Appendix
4: Excursus on garum and liquamen.
It is found in the talmudic literature under the name of muries:
S. Weingarten ‘Mouldy bread and rotten fish: delicacies in the
ancient world,’ Food
and History
3
(2005) 61-72. Sauces combined with garum are mentioned in eg Tos
Betsah ii, 16 and in BTYoma76a, but it is not clear that Babylonian
Jews were using this term to mean the same foodstuffs as were used by
the Jews of the Land of Israel.

[5]
Pliny : NH
19,
152f.

[6]
Pliny NH
19,
152-3: certum
est quippe carduos apud Carthaginem magnam Cordubamque praecipue
sestertium sena milia e parvis redderareis, quoniam portent quoque
terrarium in ganeam vertimus, serimusque etiam ea quae refugiunt
cunctae quadrupedes …condiuntur quoque aceto melle diluto addita
laseris radice et cumino, ne quis dies sine carduo sit.

[7]
On Pliny’s distrust of the ‘foreign’ taking over the Roman, an
old Roman literary trope, see T. Murphy Pliny
the Elder’s Natural
History:
the empire in the encyclopedia (Oxford,
2004) 68ff.

[8]
On Pliny’s hostility to luxury, a traditional theme of Latin
poetry: Murphy (above n.35) 71. See also M. Beagon Roman
Nature: the thought of Pliny the Elder
(Oxford,
1992)  190: ‘moral condemnation of luxuria
is
more than a commonplace to Pliny.’

[9]
F. Cimok (ed.) Antioch
Mosaics
 (Istanbul,
1995) 44-47.

[10]
The mosaic was excavated by Shlomit Wexler-Bdollach and has been
published by Rina Talgam Mosaics
of Faith (Jerusalem/Pennsylvania,
2014) p. 48 fig 70. I am grateful to both for allowing me to see
their pictures and text prior to publication.

[11]
The question of whether the midrash is to be seen as referring to a
Persian situation is beyond the scope of this paper.

[12]
BJPES
7
(1940) 47-51 (in Hebrew)

[13]
See also
I.
Löw Die
Flora
der Juden
vol
I, (Wien, 1924, repr Hildesheim, 1967) p.409.

[14]
Tosefta Beitzah [Yom Tov] iii,19 and cf BTBeitzah 34a. ‘Akavit/
‘aqubit
has
been identified with tumbleweed, Gundelia
Tourneforti,
which is a wild edible thistle still eaten in Galilee and Lebanon,
and known by its Arabic name, ‘aqub.
See
A. Shmida Mapa’s
dictionary of plants and flowers in Israel (Tel
Aviv, 2005, in Hebrew) 236; A. Helou ‘An edible wild thistle from
the Lebanese mountains’ in Susan Friedman (ed.) Vegetables:
proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery 2008 (Totnes,
2009) 83-4. ‘Aqub
can
still be bought in the present-day market in Tiberias in the spring,
its price depending on whether the vendor has removed the thorns or
left that pleasure to the buyer. Its taste when cooked is not unlike
artichoke.  

[15]
BT Eruvin 83a (my translation).

[16]
For the identification of Nawsah see A. Oppenheimer, Babylonia
Judaica in the Talmudic Period
(Wiesbaden,
1983) pp.266-7.

[17]
This point about the generally positive attitude of the rabbis (in
this case the Babylonian rabbis) to the good things in life is made
by I.M. Gafni The
Jews of Babylonia in the talmudic era: a social and cultural history
(Jerusalem,
1990) 130 citing M. Beer Amoraei
Bavel  – peraqim be-hayei ha-kalkalah
(Ramat
Gan תשל”ה
).
But having made his point, Gafni hedges here, warning against taking
a series of anecdotes from different periods as evidence. However, we
should note that this picture is consistent over both Palestinian and
Babylonian sources, and if we compare it to, say, the attitudes of
early Christian writers or Philo, we see that this trend is absent
there. See my paper ‘Magiros,
nahtom
and
women at home: cooks in the Talmud’ Journal
of Jewish Studies 56
(2005)
285-297.

[18]
For a discussion of the rabbinical requirement in both  Bavli
and Yerushalmi to honour the Sabbath by eating good food, see S.J.D.
Cohen,’Dancing, clapping, meditating: Jewish and Christian observance
of the Sabbath in pseudo-Ignatius’ in B. Isaac, Y. Shahar (eds)
Judaea-Palaestina,
Babylon and Rome: Jews in Antiquity
(Tübingen,
2012) 33-38.

[19]
Midrash Lamentations Rabbah iii, 6/17.  

[20]
Apicius
3.6.

[21]
See e.g.  S. Weingarten ‘Eggs in the Talmud’ in R. Hosking
(ed.) Eggs
in Cookery: Proceedings of the Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery,
2006
(Totnes,
2007) 274-276.

China and the Answer to the Last Quiz
Marc B. Shapiro

One wonders how R. Kiseleff would have reacted had he known that according to R. Simhah Zelig Rieger even in Harbin Jews should avoid Torah prohibitions on Sunday.[13] 

I earlier mentioned R. Kiseleff’s book of derashot, Imrei Shefer. In addition to the typical derashot one would expect in such a volume, it also includes eulogies for the Hafetz Hayyim and R. Kook. Regarding R. Kook, R. Kiseleff tells us that they were at the Volozhin yeshiva together and R. Kook was regarded then as one of the yeshiva’s outstanding students. He also records a talmudic question that R. Kook asked that R. Kiseleff tells us became the talk of all the students. Also included in the book are speeches R. Kiseleff gave on the twentieth and twenty-fifth anniversaries of Herzl’s death. He describes how thanks to Herzl many Jews who were entirely removed from Jewish life and ready to assimilate began to feel pride in their heritage and reconnect to their people.