Can Orthodoxy Decide Its Own History?

Rabbi Shmuel Lesher 

The Making of a Godol

In his 2004 review of Rabbi Nosson Kamenetsky’s controversy-sparking Making of a Godol,[1] Professor Mordechai Breuer notes a marked change happening within haredi culture, specifically book culture:

The contents of the traditional Haredi bookshelf have expanded and transformed beyond recognition in recent generations. Alongside … the rabbinic classics … the shelves are now filled with books of types our ancestors could not have imagined.[2]

Breuer is referring to the proliferation of a new form of biography, or hagiography, of gedolim, or “Torah scholars” sometimes referred to as “Shivhei Tzaddikim” (Praises of the Righteous).

To be sure, historically, the practice of telling stories of praise and piety about gedolim is not new. Records of this literature can be found as early as the 19th century.[3] However, the recent proliferation and high demand for these works within contemporary haredi society is a fairly recent phenomenon.

It is against this backdrop that, in his review, Breuer celebrates R. Kamenetsky’s publication of Making of a Godol. He correctly notes that this book is not just another routine addition to the existing genre of hagiography. Quite the contrary, employing the rigorous research of an academic, the book makes a serious effort to depict the lives of Lithuanian yeshiva personalities as they truly were, without embellishment or distortion. In stark contrast to those who advocate for the idealized and sanitized portrayal of gedolim as saintly individuals devoid of human flaws or weakness, R. Kamenetsky authored a book whose content was subject to a single test: the test of truth.[4]

It is for this very reason that others did not celebrate the publication of Making of a Godol. In fact, shortly after the book was published in 2002, it was subject to a ban and removed from bookstores.

Breuer has his own critiques of the book. In addition to a number of serious methodological issues he raises with the book from an academic historical perspective, Breuer takes issue with a number of passages from a religious perspective, some of which may have been the reasons why it was banned within parts of the haredi community:

It is unfortunate that the author did not refrain from delving into minutiae that lack historical significance, including the personal weaknesses of Torah scholars… Yet, the author makes no effort to reconcile this phenomenon with the ideal of shemirat halashon (guarding one’s speech) …. The extensive treatment of such topics, without any attempt to analyze or integrate them into a cohesive picture of the “Making of a Godol” borders on gossip for its own sake. It would have been better to omit such material altogether.[5]

Jewish History: Lashon Harah?

Although Breuer categorizes the inclusion of some trivial and negative descriptions of gedolim in R. Kamenetsky’s book as “bordering on gossip for its own sake,” someone who levels the claim of actual lashon harah (prohibited negative speech) against any and all accurate history-keeping is Rabbi Shimon Schwab.

R. Schwab correctly notes that history must be accurate:

History must be truthful, otherwise it does not deserve its name. A book of history must report the bad with the good, the ugly with the beautiful, the difficulties and the victories, the guilt and the virtue. Since it is supposed to be truthful, it cannot spare the righteous if he fails, and it cannot skip the virtues of the villain. For such is truth, all is told the way it happened.[6]

Clearly, there is little use for inaccurate history books. 

R. Schwab further notes that since the canonization of Tanakh, no works of Jewish history were composed by our Sages. It appears that when prophecy ceased, the recording of Jewish history stopped at the same time.[7]

This phenomenon was noted by historian Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi. He writes that after the canonization of the Bible, it appears that Jewish historiography abruptly stopped:

After the close of the biblical canon the Jews virtually stopped writing history…. It is as though, abruptly, the impulse to historiography had ceased.[8]

This, Yerushalmi writes, is remarkable. Biblical Jewry and subsequent generations of Jews drew deep meaning from history. Their people’s history was deeply wedded to their sacred scripture. They came together weekly to read aloud from these passages in synagogues for thousands of years. Generation of scribes would copy and transmit these texts to the next generation with the utmost care and concern for their sacred task.[9]

Moreover, the Torah itself commands the Jewish people to remember “the days of old and to contemplate the years of every generation”:

זכר ימות עולם בינו שנות דור ודור שאל אביך ויגדך זקניך ויאמרו לך

Remember world history, study the generational epochs. Ask your father and he will relate to you, your elders and they will tell you (Devarim 32:7).

Therefore, R. Schwab asks: Why did our great Torah leaders not deem it necessary to register in detail all the events of their period just as the Torah and the prophets had done before them? 

R. Schwab’s answer will likely be shocking to all those who love history:

Only a prophet mandated by his Divine calling has the ability to report history as it really happened, unbiased and without prejudice….An historian has no right to take sides. He must report the stark truth and nothing but the truth…if an historian would report truthfully what he witnessed…He would violate the prohibition against spreading loshon harah which does not only apply to the living, but also to those who sleep in the dust and cannot defend themselves any more. What ethical purpose is served by preserving a realistic historic picture? Nothing but the satisfaction of curiosity. [10]

Using the imagery of Shem and Yefet who covered the nakedness of their father Noah when he became intoxicated, preserving their saintly memory of their father (Bereishit 9:23), R. Schwab argues for a more synthetic and sterilized version of Jewish history:

We should tell ourselves and our children the good memories of the good people, their unshakeable faith, their staunch defense of tradition, their life of truth, their impeccable honesty, their boundless charity and their great reverence for Torah and Torah sages. What is gained by pointing out their inadequacies and their contradictions? We want to be inspired by their example and learn from their experience. Rather than write the history of our forebears, every generation has to put a veil over the human failings of its elders and glorify all the rest which is great and beautiful. That means we have to do without a real history book….We do not need realism, we need inspiration from our forefathers in order to pass it on to posterity. 

Because a historian must record the facts, and the facts remain lashon harah and therefore forbidden, R. Schwab argues that Torah-true “historians” should engage in the genre of “story-telling” rather than truthful history focusing on telling the stories that will inspire, leaving out the truth if unflattering.

Is R. Schwab correct in asserting that the reading or writing of all accurate history is in violation of the formal prohibition(s) of lashon harah and therefore renders the field of Jewish history decidedly quite “un-Jewish”? Any serious student of history must respond to this question.[11]

It appears from the literature that the standard prohibition of lashon harah only applies to the living. The Gemara in Berakhot (19a) cites Rabbi Yitzhak who states, “Anyone who speaks negatively about the deceased is as if he speaks about a stone. Some say this is because the dead do not know, and some say that they know, but they do not care [about such speech].

Simply understood, R. Yitzhak’s statement means that just as there is no formal prohibition of lashon harah for slandering inanimate objects, there is no lashon harah when speaking negatively about the dead.[12]

Although the Raavya[13] and the Mordekhai[14] quote an ancient heirem (ban) against falsely libeling the deceased which is codified in Shulhan Arukh,[15] this would not constitute formal lashon harah.[16]

Interestingly, the father of the aforementioned R. Nosson Kamenetsky, Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetsky, writes that even this ban, which reaches beyond the scope of normative lashon harah, only forbids false libel. Whereas lashon harah is forbidden when speaking about living persons even when true,[17] one is permitted, according to the elder R. Kamenetsky, to tell negative stories about people from the past as long as they are true. R. Gil Student notes that when applied to history, this principle would provide a heter (allowance) for the accurate, albeit occasionally negative, recording of facts.[18]

On the other hand, R. Binyamin Yehoshua Zilber argues, contrary to the simple reading of the Gemara cited above, the dead do, in fact, know about and are affected by what is said about them. Therefore, he rules that one may not say anything bad about the dead, false or true.[19]

The Allowance of “Toelet”

Either approach one takes to lashon harah about the dead, the allowances to permitted lashon harah would seem to apply to the dead just as it applies to the living. Regarding history, two allowances outlined by the Hafetz Haim seem particularly relevant: one permitting the “sharing of public knowledge”[20] and another based on “toelet” — having a legitimate or constructive purpose.[21] If something is already public knowledge, its inclusion in history books is permitted under the category of “sharing public knowledge.” If it is not already known, I would argue that documenting it for posterity, when it serves a constructive purpose for the historical record, should also be allowed.

Returning to Making of a Godol, R. Kamenetsky was aware of the potential for Breuer’s critique of lashon harah. In defense of his choice to include some less than savory passages in his book apparently for the sake of the historical record, R. Kamenetsky appears to utilize the “toelet argument”:

It goes without saying that R. Mordekhai Schwab [brother of R. Shimon Schwab who supported the study of accurate Jewish history] did not approve of revealing faults in any man without constructive purpose; and neither do I.[22]

R. Kamenetsky makes another argument to support disclosing even unsavory information. He claims there is some form of halakhic statute of limitations on people’s embarrassment. Things that transpired over a century ago are no longer subject to the rules of lashon harah:

I did not give much consideration to concealing then-sensitive matters for the reason that when my father talked about these long-past episodes he specifically applied the verse גם שנאתם גם קנאתם כבר אבדה (Both their [the principals’] enmity and their envy are already bygone)[23]…. In fact, my father considered the passage of only 50 years – a יובל (which the Torah labels ” לעולם [forever]”) – to have enough of a cumulative effect to erase one world and bring a new society in its stead.[24]

This rationale goes well beyond the toelet allowance or limiting lashon harah to the living. If one accepts this contention, any information that is at least 50 years old can be written even if the individual would not want this information shared.

Whatever the assumed allowance is, in recent years, it appears that many, even within the haredi community, have taken a more open approach to the study of Jewish history. 

Although Making of a Godol was banned, this did not impede the public’s interest in historical scholarship. Over twenty years after the Making of a Godol ban, interest in the academic study of Jewish history has only grown. Today, there is a new wave of Jewish historians, writers, and podcast hosts who are engaged in rigorous study and writing of Jewish history. In their weekly column in Mishpacha magazine “For the Record,” Yehuda Geberer and Dovi Safier cite directly from historical documents and materials from Jewish history. Geberer hosts a popular podcast entitled “Jewish History Soundbites (here).”Nachi Weinstein of Lakewood, New Jersey, the host of the Seforim Chatter podcast (here), routinely interviews academic historians and professors well outside the typical sources found in the more insulated Yeshiva community.

Although there is still a strong presence of the typical biographical or hagiographical, any careful observer of the Jewish community can discern a largely different approach being taken to the study of Jewish history.

The Ethical Imperative of Accurate Historiography

I have shown that, although debated, there is a halakhic basis for the study of accurate and truthful Jewish history. However, is there a moral imperative to study Jewish history? It may be permitted halakhically, but is there inherent value in the recording of history?

According to Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, we can derive from the Torah itself that there is an ethical value in preserving history. R. Hirsch notes that the Torah “does not hide from us the faults, errors, and weaknesses of our great men” and narrates events simply “because they took place”:

The Torah never hides from us the faults, errors, and weaknesses of our great men. Just by that it gives a stamp of veracity to what it relates . . . The Torah never presents our great men as being perfect, it deifies no man, says of none ‘here you have the ideal, in this man the divine became human’ . . . The Torah is no collection of examples of saints. It relates what occurred, not because it was exemplary, but because it did occur.[25]

In fact, recording the mistakes of our biblical heroes provides more credibility to the Torah.

R.Yehuda Leib Bloch, the Rosh Yeshiva of Telshe, Lithuania makes a similar point:

At the very moment it describes the greatness and holiness of the Patriarchs, [the Torah] does not remain silent about their shortcomings. It does not conceal their flaws, nor does it portray them as divine beings possessing every virtue without defects or shortcomings….Our Torah is a Torah of truth, a Torah of life. It teaches us that a person, by virtue of being human, cannot be divine.[26]

Aside from the lesson of our Patriarchs’ and Matriarchs’ humanity and the credibility gained by the Torah, the fact that the Torah records events simply “because they took place” is significant for R. Hirsch. The very notion that something occurred, in and of itself merits being recorded in the Torah because the Torah values the truth of history. Throughout many of his works, R. Hirsch emphasizes the importance of historical awareness and the necessity of the study of history.[27] One citation will suffice:

To obtain knowledge of Nature and History…is not only something permitted but something which is desirable to the fullest extent, for only a mind armed with such a wide panoramic view on all matters can draw the right conclusions of the Jewish position in the world, in the whole of its speciality.[28]

Censoring the “Inconvenient Truths” of History 

Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schacter has argued in a number of important essays that there is an ethical imperative to preserving historical truth about our past and “facing the truths of history.”[29]

In support of his position, which he notes has historically been the minority one, R. Schacter draws from R. Yaakov Emden,[30] R. Hirsch,[31] and the Hazon Ish.[32] Critical of hagiographic works that censor or remove “inconvenient truths” about gedolim, R. Schacter writes:

Is overlooking part of the truth, in fact, any less of a lie than actively distorting it? Do not both result in a less than true—let us call it what it really is, i. e., false—picture of the facts or figure being presented? W. E. B. Du Bois wrote: “One is astonished in the study of history at the recurrence of the idea that evil must be forgotten, distorted, skimmed over.”[33]

R. Schacter also responds to R. Schwab’s rationalization for omitting parts of history:

It is interesting that Rabbi Schwab does not deny that “important people” and “good people” have failings and inadequacies. Rather, he suggests that they are best overlooked and forgotten. However, even this…explains only the neglect and disregard of history; it does not justify the distorting of history. While it may explain why one should not write about the past, it does not justify distorting the past when one does write about it. Inventing the past is as foolish as foretelling the future, but more scandalous.[34]

Suffice it to say, although “facing the truths of history” may be difficult, even prohibitive according to some, according to R. Schacter and those of his school, it is imperative.

The Miracle of Jewish Survival 

There may be yet another reason to study Jewish history from a religious perspective. In an often-cited passage, R. Yaakov Emden writes that Jewish history very well may be the repository of the greatest miracle known to man:

Who is so blind as to not see the divine providence?… We the exiled nation, a dispersed sheep. After all the troubles and shifts for two thousand years. No nation in the world is as pursued as us….[Our enemies] have brought on us great sufferings but were never able to triumph over us…All these ancient, powerful nations have gone by, their strength has withered, their protection has eroded. But we who cling to G-d are all alive today…Can the hand of chance do all this? I swear by my soul that…these ideas are greater [miracles] in my eyes than all the great open miracles G-d has performed for our forefathers in Egypt, the Sinai Desert, and in the land of Israel. The longer the exile lasts, the more the miracle is confirmed…[35]

If, as R. Emden argues, the story of Jewish people’s survival is even more miraculous and contributes more to our faith than the Exodus, it would follow that the study of the Jewish people’s history and its survival would be a critical part of Jewish education and faith-building.

In fact, R. Emden’s theory of the significance of the Jewish story of survival and its place within history, was felt by Catholic historian Paul Johnson. In the prologue to his A History of the Jews, Johnson gives his fourth and final reason why he chose to write this book and to study the Jewish people:

The book gave me the chance to reconsider objectively…the most intractable of all human questions: what are we on earth for? Is history merely a series of events whose sum is meaningless?….No people has ever insisted more firmly than the Jews that history has a purpose and humanity a destiny. At a very early stage in their collective existence they believed they had detected a divine scheme for the human race, of which their own society was to be a pilot. They worked out their role in immense detail. They clung to it with heroic persistence in the face of savage suffering. Many of them believe it still….The Jews, therefore, stand right at the centre of the perennial attempt to give human life the dignity of a purpose.[36]

For Johnson, the Jews stand at the centre of the very question of history and of human existence itself. Believing and arguing, by their very existence, that mankind does matter, and that there is moral significance to the history of the human race. 

In sum, the value of the rigorous and accurate study of Jewish history has been the subject of debate. From the standpoint of halakhah, I have argued that even negative information that can provide a greater understanding of our history is permitted to be recorded if it serves a constructive purpose for the historical record. However, more fundamentally, I believe that the proper study of Jewish history is not only a moral imperative ensuring an accurate picture of the past, it provides us with a deep sense of memory and Jewish identity. 

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks notes that although Jews were the first people to write history, biblical Hebrew has no word for “history.” Instead it uses the root zakhor, meaning “memory.”[37] History and memory are not the same thing. History is about facts, memory is about identity. History is about something that happened to someone else. It is “his story.” Memory is my story, the past that made me who I am, of whose legacy I am the guardian for the sake of generations yet to come. While, as I have argued, the study of history is crucial, without memory, there is no identity, and without identity, we are “mere dust on the surface of infinity.”[38]

[1] R. Nosson Kameneksty, Making of a Godol: A Study of Episodes in the Lives of Great Torah Personalities (Mesorah, 2002).
[2] Mordechai Breuer, “Gidulo Shel Gadol (Making of a Godol)” Hamayan 44:2 Teves 5764, pp. 81-82. For more reviews of Making of a Godol see Zev Lev, “Al Gidulo shel Gadol,” Hamayan 50:1 (Tishrei 5770) , pp. 100-104; “Teguvah le-divrei Prof. Lev z”l al ha-sefer “Gidulo shel Gadol” Hamayan 50:7 (Tishrei 5770), pp. 77-104.
[3] See Immanuel Etkes, “On Shaping the Image of ‘the Gedolim’ in Ultra-Orthodox Lithuanian Hagiographic Literature,” in Benjamin Brown and Nissim Leon, eds., The Gedolim: Leaders Who Shaped the Israeli Haredi Jewry (Magnes, 2017), p. 26 (Hebrew). I was introduced to this and several other sources referenced in this article through R. Dovid Bashevkin. See his “Is Jewish History Lashon Harah,” Reading Jewish History in the Parsha (April 10, 2024) (available here).
[4] Breuer, “Gidulo Shel Gadol,” p. 81.
[5] Breuer, “Gidulo Shel Gadol,” pp. 83-84. For more on Making of a Godol and the ban on it see R. Nosson Kameneksty, “Anatomy of a Ban: the Story of the Ban on the Book Making of a Godol; R. Nosson Kamenetsky, “Making of a Ban: A Look At the Banning of Making of A Godol,” YUTorah.org (March 12, 2005) (available here); Marc B. Shapiro, “Of Books and Bans,” The Edah Journal 3:2 (2003) (available here) and his “On Re-Reading a Banned Book: Nathan Kamenetsky’s Making of a Godol,” Jewish Review of Books (Spring 2022); Dovid Lichtenstein, “Supermen or Super Men: Acknowledging the Faults and Mistakes of Gedolim,” Headlines 3: Halachic Debates of Current Events (Mekor, 2021), pp. 385-413 and his Halacha Headlines podcast on the topic.
[6] R. Shimon Schwab, Selected Writings, (1988), p. 233.
[7] Ibid.
[8] Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory (Seattle and London, 1982), 15-16.
[9] Yerushalmi’s thesis has been the subject of much debate in academic circles. See perhaps most notably,  Robert Bonfil, “How Golden was the ‘Golden Age’ of Jewish Historiography?” History and Theory, Vol. 27, No. 4, Beiheft 27: Essays in Jewish Historiography (Dec., 1988), pp. 78-102. Also see Amos Funkenstein’s Perceptions of Jewish History (University of California Press, Berkeley, 1993); David N. Myers and Amos Funkenstein, “Remembering “Zakhor”: A Super-Commentary [with Response], History and Memory, Vol. 4, No. 2 (Fall – Winter, 1992), pp. 129-148; David Berger, “Identity, Ideology and Faith: Some Personal Reflections on the Social, Cultural and Spiritual Value of the Academic Study of Judaism,” in Howard Kreisel (ed.), Study and Knowledge in Jewish Thought (Ben-Gurion University, 2006), pp. 15-16. Thanks to Dr. Marc Herman and Dr. Tamar Ron Marvin for these sources.
[10] R. Schwab, p. 234.
[11] For a discussion of the position of the Rambam on this question see R. Zev Eleff, “The Intersection of Halakhah and History,” Beit Yitzhak, Vol. 42 (5770), p. 425n4.
[12] It should be noted that R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv is cited as reading this Gemara differently and thereby prohibits lashon harah spoken of the dead the same as the living. See R. Benzion Kook (ed.), Shiurei Maran HaGrish Elyashiv, Berakhot 19a, with nn. 53-54.
[13] Yoma, no. 531.
[14] Yoma, no. 724.
[15] Orah Hayim 606:4.
[16] Mishnah Berurah 606:16.
[17] Emet Liyaakov al Hatorah, Vayeishev, p. 194.
[18] R. Gil Student, “Toward a Halakhic Philosophy of History,” Torah Musings (March 15, 2011).
[19] Shu”t Az Nidberu 14:68. For more see R. Daniel Feldman, False Facts and True Rumors: Lashon Hara in Contemporary Society, (2015), pp. 228-230 and R. Eleff, pp. 422-431.
[20] Hafetz Hayim 1:2:2.
[21] Ibid. 1:10:2.
[22] R. Nathan Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, Vol. 1 (Improved Edition, 2004), p. xxv.
[23] Kohelet 9:6.
[24] R. Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol, pp. xxiii-xxiv.
[25] R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Pentateuch, Genesis 12:10-13.
[26] R. Yosef Yehuda Leib Bloch, Shiurei Daat, Vayikra Bishem Hashem, p. 157.
[27] See R. Hirsch, “On Hebrew Instruction As Part of General Education,” Judaism Eternal, Vol. 1 (Soncino, 1956), p. 199; The Nineteen Letters, Letter Eighteen (Feldheim, 1995), p. 273; Pentateuch, Devarim 4:32, 6:4, and 16:1. I am indebted to Professor Yehuda (Leo) Levi for many of these citations. See his “Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch: Myth and Fact,” Tradition (Spring 1997), 31.3, p. 7 and 18.
[28] Pentateuch, Devarim 4:32.
[29] See his “Haskalah, Secular Studies and the Close of the Yeshiva in Volozhin in 1892,” The Torah u-Madda Journal, vol. 2 (1990), pp. 76-133 (available here) and “Facing the Truths of History,” The Torah u-Madda Journal, vol. 8 (1998-1999), pp. 200-276 (available here).
[30] “Facing the Truths of History,” pp. 203-204.
[31] R. Jacob J. Schacter, “On the Morality of the Patriarchs: Must Biblical Heroes be Perfect?” in Zvi Grumet, ed., Jewish Education in Transition (2007), p. 5.
[32] Koveitz Iggerot Meiet Hahazon Ish, Vol. 2, no. 133.
[33] “Facing the Truths of History,” pp. 230-231.
[34] “Haskalah, Secular Studies,” pp. 111-112.
[35] Siddur Yavetz, Vol. 1, Introduction.
[36] Paul Johnson, A History of the Jews (1988), p. 2.
[37] R. Jonathan Sacks, “A Nation of Storytellers,” (Ki Tavo), Lessons in Leadership (2015), p. 278.
[38] R. Sacks, Morality (2020), p. 15.

A Year in Berlin:
The Beginning of Hebrew Printing in Berlin in c. 1699
by Marvin J. Heller

The publishing of Hebrew books in Berlin is a relatively late phenomenon. The article provides a background to early Hebrew printing and then discusses the first Hebrew press in Berlin. It addresses Jewish history in Berlin, explaining why Hebrew printing began there at the end of the seventeenth century, almost two hundred and fifty years after it began elsewhere. Several unique works, rather than the usual communal prayer books and bibles, are described in some detail in the article.

Hebrew printing has a rich and lengthy history. The first Hebrew books were printed close to the mid-fifteenth century, in 1469 and 1472, approximately a decade and a half after Johann Gutenberg printed the first Bible in c. 1455 in Mainz, Germany. Those first Hebrew books, printed in Rome by Obadiah, Menasheh, and Benjamin of Rome, and several who followed, are undated. Their name appears in the colophon of R. Moses ben Nahman’s (Nahmanides, Ramban, 1194–1270) Torah commentary[1] The first dated Hebrew book was Abraham ben Garton ben Isaac’s edition of Rashi’s Torah commentary (Reggio di Calabria, 1475, completed 10 Adar, 5235 = Friday, February 17, 1475). It was followed soon after by Jacob ben Asher’s Arba’ah Turim, printed in Piove di Sacco, Padua province on 28 Tammuz, 5235 (July 3, 1475).[2]

A conservative listing of Hebrew books that can be said with certainty to have been printed prior to 1500 are, according to A. K. Offenberg, 139 titles, which he writes “may yet be too high.”I[3] In an index Offenberg records close to twenty locations in which Hebrew incunabula were printed, in Italy, Spain, and a 1493 Constantinople edition of the Arba’ah Turim.[4] Among the more notable locations in which Hebrew printing occurred in the incunabular period are Mantua, Bologna, Ferrara in Italy, and Guadalajara in Spain.

In contrast to the small number of incunabular imprints, approximately 2,700 titles were printed in the following century, that is, from 1500-1599. To be more precise, 2,672 Hebrew titles (or books with Hebrew letters) were printed, according to Yeshayahu Vinograd, in the sixteenth century. In the seventeenth century the number of Hebrew books published increased to 3,526 entries.[5] The primary centers of Hebrew printing in those centuries were, respectively, Venice and Amsterdam. Parenthetically, the latter’s imprints were sufficiently popular that publishers in other locations frequently wrote with a small font “printed with” and in a large font “Amsterdam,” and again in a small font “letters.” Below, again in a small font, the actual place of printing.[6]

That Hebrew printing began so much later in Berlin than in other centers of printing might seem unlikely, given the subsequent importance of that city’s Jewish community and press. However, it is not surprising in light of the early history of Berlin Jewry, which was difficult, indeed stormy. Expelled in the middle-ages, during the Black Death, Jews were allowed to return in 1354, but not permitted a synagogue. There is no further mention of Jews until the sixteenth century. Subsequently, Jews were expelled and readmitted several times. Gotthard Deutsch and A. Freimann write that “The real history of the Jewish community of Berlin does not begin until the year 1671.” At that time, Jews expelled from Vienna were admitted to Berlin. On Jan. 3, 1676, a decree was issued which stated “die Juden in Berlin in ihren Freyheiten und Privilegien nicht zu turbiren, noch zu kränken, sondern sie vielmehr dabey gebürend zu schützen” (not to disturb or worry the Jews of Berlin in their grants and privileges, but to protect them properly).”[7]

Hebrew printing in Berlin began soon after, that is, in the last decade of the seventeenth century. According to the Jüdisches Museum Berlin, Hebrew printing in Berlin, “which commenced later than in other German cities,” began when Daniel Ernst Jablonski published a Hebrew Bible in 1699.[8] Yeshayahu Vinograd, in the Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book, records eleven works printed from 1690 through 1699, eight in the latter date. He begins with a 1690 quarto format (4⁰) Bible attributed to a Knebell, who Moritz Steinschneider describes in his entry for the 1699 Bible as “Opera et impensis Jo. Henri Knebel . . .” (the works and expenses of Jo. Henri Knebel),” the printer given as Jablonski.

The 1690 Bible entry is followed by two 1698 octavo editions (8⁰: 90 pp., no pagination given for the second edition) of Psalms both in the Bodleian library and then the 1699 imprints.[9] Steinschneider dates the first Psalms as “3–9 Tischri 458 (18-24, Sept. 1697), the second as [ca. 1697-9]. These are followed by an edition of Bereishit (Genesis).[10] Also printed at this time was a siddur (prayer book) and another edition of Psalms. All of these works, as well as the following titles, were printed at the Jablonski press.

Daniel Ernst Jablonski’s (1660-1741) involvement with Hebrew printing is surprising given his background and career. He was the son of Peter Figulus, a minister of Unity of the Brethren (Unitas fratrum) and grandson of Johann Amos Comenius, the last bishop of the Unity. Jablonski served as a preacher at Magdeburg in 1683, and from 1686 to 1691 as head of the Brethren College at Polish Leszno (Lissa), a position filled by his grandfather. In 1691, Jablonski was appointed court preacher at Königsberg by the elector of Brandenburg. In 1693, he was transferred to Berlin as court preacher, and in 1699 he was consecrated a bishop of the Unity of the Brethren, where he worked to bring about a union between the followers of Luther and Calvin. In 1700, Jablonski became a member of the Academy of Sciences (Brandenburgische Societät der Wissenschaften), serving between 1710 and 1731 as director of Philology and Oriental Studies and, from 1733 and 1741, as president of the Academy.[11] He was also the author of several books on Christian theology and philosophy.

In Berlin, Jablonski established a Hebrew printing press. Vinograd very conservatively crediting him with having printed as many as twenty titles. However, a significant multiple of that number of titles were printed in Berlin at that time with no printer’s name assigned to them in the Thesaurus, or, in some instances, attributed to an editor at the press.[12] Concerning Jablonski’s heading a Jewish press in Berlin, it may not seem as improbable as it appears. Jews could not initially obtain licenses to own a printing-press, so that of necessity, the owner had to be a non-Jew, although the managers and workers were usually Jewish. Jablonski employed a number of Jewish workers at his press. The most important was Judah Loeb ben David Neumark (d. 4 Nissan = April 9, 1723) from Hanau, author of Shoresh Yehudah (Frankfort on the Main, 1692), the manager of and an editor at the Jablonski printing-house.[13]

Another of Jablonski’s achievements relates to the printing of the Talmud. He was instrumental in securing approval for Michael Gottschalk, the Frankfurt an der Oder printer, and Johann Christoph Beckman, professor of theology at the University of Frankfurt an der Oder, to publish the Frankfurt an der Oder Talmud (1697-99). Jablonski’s opinion was requested by Friedreich III, Elector of Brandenburg, after Gottschalk and Beckman sought permission to print the Talmud. Jablonski’s measured response was, overall, positive; he found the Talmud to be, with reservations, a work of value, and recommended that Friedreich approve the request to republish that work. Jablonski subsequently printed the first Frankfurt on the Oder/Berlin Talmud together with Gottschalk (1715-22).

We turn now to the more distinct books published at the Jablonski press, that are non-biblical nor prayer books, although the press issued both. Our first title is Azmot Yosef, novellae on tractate Kiddushin by R. Joseph ben Isaac ibn Ezra (c. 1560–1620), attributed in bibliographies to Neimark, as it is his name that appears on the title-page. Perchance, he managed the press and Jablonski was the proforma owner.

Azmot Yosef – Azmot Yosef was published in folio format (2⁰: 125 ff.) in the year “[Show me a sign of] Your favorאות לטובה ( 459 = 1699) that my enemies may see and be frustrated because you. O Lord, have given me aid and comfort (Psalms 86:17). R. Joseph ben Isaac ibn Ezra (c. 1560–1620) was a scion of the renowned Ibn Ezra family of Spain. Publication of Azmot Yosef is attributed by Vinograd to L. Neimark. Joseph ben Isaac Ibn Ezra was a student of 1R. Samuel de Medina (Maharashdam, 1506-89) and of R. Aaron ben Solomon ben Hasson (16th Cent.). Ibn Ezra subsequently headed the yeshivah of Don David ben Yahya, where he had several eminent students, among them R. Shabbetai Jonah. He later left Salonika for Constantinople, and afterwards served as rabbi in Larissa and Sofia.[14]

The first paragraph of the title-page, a reprint of the first edition, states that it is an explanation of the rules by which the Torah is explicated, and that it is:

a commentary in iyyun and pilpul (deliberation and casuistry) of tractate Kiddushin, from the beginning until the end, on the Talmud, Rashi, Tosafot, Rif, Rambam, Rosh, his son the Ba’al ha-Turim, and others on the laws of kiddushin (betrothal). After the iyyun and pilpul I conclude with the halakhah . . . .

Also, for the benefit of the students [I explain] the rules of [kal ve-homer] (a fortiori inference), dayyo (sufficiency), and other rules: I also delve deeply into the passages of parah ve-rahel in Kol ha-basar and at the end of Kaitzad ha-regel.

The second paragraph, somewhat lengthy, informs that Azmot Yosef was printed previously in Salonica in 1601, further expounds it virtues, and informs that it is being printed for the second time in the praiseworthy city of Berlin and extols Friedreich III.

Azmot Yosef

Courtesy of the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad Ohel Yosef Yitzhak

In addition to the peshat (clear meaning of the text) on Kiddushin, Azmot Yosef also addresses Talmudic methodology. Ibn Ezra was also the author of Rosh Yosef, novellae on the Tur, Ḥoshen Mishpat, of which the part on taxes and associated communal issues was published as Massa Melekh (Salonica (1601). Some of his responsa were published in the responsa of R. Shabbetai Jonah, R. Solomon ha-Kohen, and R. Samuel Hayyun.

Azmot Yosef is an important work on Kiddushin and has been reprinted several times. Initially printed in Salonika (1601), as noted above, at the press of Abraham and Joseph BathSheba, this is the second edition; four additional printings of Azmot Yosef are recorded in the Bet Eked Sepharim, the most recent a Warsaw edition (1883).[15]

Gefen Yehidit – Our next work, Gefen Yehidit is a multi-part work, primarily on ethics, by R. Ze’ev Wolf ben Judah Leib of Rosienie. It was published in a small sextodecimo format (16⁰: 59 ff.)

Gefen Yehidit

Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The title page of Gefen Yehidit has a brief text that states that it is:

A book, small in size but of great quality. It speaks of matters of ethics and reverence in a clear language . . . The author should have merit. He is one of the maskilim (a person of understanding) and in this small book he demonstrates his expertise and sharpness. . .

Included is Sefer Luah ha-Hayyim which speaks of remedies in order that a person should be healthy and strong in order to serve his God continuously.

The title page is dated “a sign for good אות לטובה (459 = 1669)” (Psalms 86:17). Next is the introduction (1b-2a) of R. Judah Leib Hanau,[16] who brought the book to press. In his introduction, Ze’ev Wolf begins with a quote from Midrash Ruth in which Rav Ashi says that this Megillah is not primarily wisdom nor Torah, but to learn from it gemillut hasadim (acts of kindness), so too the work that he is writing. He informs that he has had a difficult life, and frequently quotes from the Zohar.

The text, in a single column in rabbinic letters, is comprised of Gefen Yehidit, a work of mussar (ethics); an accounting (39a-40b), beginning with and based on the memorial prayer El Malei Rahamim, of what befell the Jews of Podhajce (Podgaitsy), Ukraine in 1677 during a Tartar incursion and massacre of the Jews; followed by a dirge (40b-41a); Zemer le-Purim (42a-46b), verse for that festival in both Hebrew and Yiddish, translated word for word into the latter language because that is the language of Ashkenazim; and concluding with Luah ha-Hayyim (47a-59b), a popular medical work.

Gefen Yehidit has been reprinted several times, beginning with a Hanau (1717) edition.

Luah ha-Hayyim – Although included in Gefen Yehidit Luah ha-Hayyim is an independent work. In contrast to the other additional parts of the former title, Luah ha-Hayyim has its own title-page. Written by R. Hayyim ben Benjamin Ze’ev Bochner,[17] (for our ealier discussion regarding Bochner on the SEfohere), a prolific writer, whose works include Orḥot Ḥayyim, a commentary on R. Isaac Tyrnau’s Minhagim (1669, Prague), Mayim Ḥayyim, homilies and comments on Bible and Talmud, and Toẓeot Ḥayyim on grammar. This edition of Luah ha-Hayyim is based on earlier edition printed by Johann Christoph Wagenseil (Altdorf, 1687), also part of a larger work.

Luah ha-Hayyim

Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The title-page states that it is:

Luah ha-Hayyim

“It will be a cure for your body [a tonic for your bones] (Psalms 3:8) etc.” “They are life to him who finds them; healing for his whole body (Psalms 4:22):

Abbreviated rules of conduct for a person in the matter of healing to maintain a healthy body and it is a primary principle in the service of the Lord. In order to benefit the public, we have printed anew R. Hayyim ben Benjamin Ze’ev Bochner of Cracow’s work. It received in the past approbations from leading medical authorities for all these words are true and correct to those who are knowledgeable and meritable.

This is followed by approbations of two doctors from Lublin. An example of the text (51a-52b) is:

a clear white wine , sweet and aromatic, is healthy and caring. If one drinks a measure of wine, it is a balm for the body, for it increases bodily heat and strengthens as a lion. It gladdens the heart and hones the mind. It also helps in the digestion of food. The measure of a reviis as the amount to drink is logical.[18] More than this measure one should cease and desist. However, if one is accustomed to become inebriated from it and drinks more then enough than the head is ill and the heart is pained. One whose nature is warm and thirsts to drink should mix a little water every time. Honey that is clear and of average sweetness and strength is somewhat comparable to the nature of wine in all respects. . . .

A popular work the Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book records twelve editions of Luah ha-Hayyim, but again these are generally not independent publications.[19]

Keter Torah – Keter Kehunah – our final publication, is a Kabbalistic work on Psalms and liturgy by R. Joseph ben Moses (Ashkenazi), darshan of Przemyslany (17th cent.) Printed in quarto format (4⁰: 91, 62-66, [1]; 76 ff.) Keter Torah and Keter Kehunah are, respectively, the second and third parts of Keter Yosef, the first part of which was printed in 1700.[20] Joseph ben Moses, who was a darshan (preacher), served as rabbi and dayyan in Przemyslany.

Each part was printed separately and has its own title page, albeit with the same frame but somewhat varying text. The pillared frame has cherubim at the top and at the bottom of the frame an eagle with a shield, and holding a sword in one talon and a scepter in the other. In its beak is a banner with the date of the respective volume.[21]

The title page of Keter Torah states that it is the second part of Keter Yosef,

A holy workbook, old replete with new, a desirable commentary, where is its like? On Psalms by the author of Zafenat Pa’ne’ah and Haluka de-Rabbanan. He is the great darshan, grandson of the gaon R. Abraham Ashkenazi, descended from Rashi, son-in-law of R. Abraham av bet din in Luntshits, and a branch and descendant of R. Saul Wahl.

It is dated “Now Israel loved Joseph אהב את יוסף וישראל (459 = 1699)” (Genesis 37:3). Keter Torah has an introduction from the author followed by the text, comprised of Psalms in the middle of the page in square vocalized letters with Joseph’s expansive commentary, Keter Yosef, on the sides in rabbinic letters. The text is divided by the days of the week and has the heading Keter Yosef. The title page of Keter Kehunah states that it is part three of Keter Yosef and that

It is the threefold part that “is not quickly broken” (cf. Ecclesiastes 4:12). In it are found at intervals some sharp novellae on Tosafot and gemara. I have entitled it Keter Torah on the order of the avodah (divine service) for the entire year. It is by the great darshan . . .

Keter Kehunah
Courtesy of Hebrewbooks.org

Keter Kehunah is dated “This is the Torah of the burnt offering זאת תורת העולה (459 = 1699)” (Leviticus 6:2). Here, too, the text is comprised of the liturgy of the daily ma’amadot (division of prayers) in the center of the page in square vocalized letters, the commentary Keter Yosef on the sides in rabbinic letters, and the heading Keter Yosef. After the daily ma’amadot are bakashot for the day and bakashot in the manner of Kabbalah. The daily ma’amadot are followed by kabbalistic prayers for special occasions such as selihot for Mondays and Thursdays, fast days, Rosh Hodesh, Shabbat with special Torah readings, Shabbat Teshuvah, Hanukkah, Purim, brit milah, kinnot for Tishah be-Av, and for dreams. There is also a prayer for someone incarcerated from R. Leone (Judah Aryeh) Modena.

This is the sole edition of any of the parts of Keter Yosef. Joseph was also the author of a commentary included in Haggadah Haluka de-Rabbanan (Amsterdam, 1695), a commentary on the Passover Haggadah; Ketonet Passim (Lublin, 1691), discourses on festivals and the Haggadah; and Zafenat Pa’ne’ah he-Hadash (Frankfurt am Oder, 1693-94, above) on diverse subjects.

In conclusion, we have described individual publications that are not part of the customary frequently printed works comprising traditional and necessary parts of Jewish literature, that is, biblical and liturgical books, although, as noted above, such works were also published by the Jablonski press. The subject matter of these other varied books addressed here encompasses Talmudic novellae, ethics, medical recommendations, and a Kabbalistic work.

What is particularly noteworthy is, given the late start of Hebrew publishing in Berlin, that it rapidly became a center of Hebrew printing. The Thesaurus records 457 titles issued by the Berlin press in the following century (1700-1799), a remarkable growth for a new press that had hardly published any books in the previous century and for a community that was initially young and relatively small compared to other Jewish communities. Despite the small number of works published in that early period, at the end of the seventeenth century, the books published not only addressed communal needs, but also included a variety of valuable works expressing the varied intellectual needs and interests of the community. It quickly grew from a small but press that had from its beginning began by serving its community with needed and valuable varied works to a press of significance.

The Star Spangled Banner and The Song at the Sea of Exodus 15

Reuven Kimelman

The most rousing expression of American Civil Religion is the well-known The Star-Spangled Banner[1] sung ritually at patriotic events especially on July 4. What is less known is how much the American anthem was inspired by ancient Israel’s hymn, the Song at the Sea.[2]

Both the Song at the Sea in Exodus 15 and the Anthem were triggered by a wondrous upset. As America surprisingly eluded the British effort to resubjugate them at Chesapeake Bay, so Israel miraculously eluded the Egyptian onslaught to resubjugate them at the Re[e]d Sea.

Each of these events inspired songs that liturgize the baffling reversal by compressing the past into the present, where the singers bear witness to their astonishing deliverance. More than mirroring the event, the songs re-enact it, placing singer and listener at the event.

Seeing the parallel with the ancient Israelites, Francis Scott Key composed an Anthem reverberating with echoes of the Song as he composed other biblically-nourished hymns including “Lord, with Glowing heart I’d Praise Thee” and “Before the Lord We Bow.”[3]

Both Anthem and Song begin with a double reference to visualizing the victory thereby transforming the vocalists into eyewitnesses:

The Anthem begins: “O say can you see”; “O’er the ramparts we watched”; whereas Exodus introduces the Song with “Israel saw Egypt dead on the shore of the sea” (14:30). And “Israel saw the wondrous power which God had wielded against the Egyptians” (14:31).

Both focus twice on the visibility of morning: The Anthem opens with “O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,” and then notes synonymously in the second stanza: “Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam in full glory reflected now shines in the stream.” Similarly, the Song notes, “At the morning watch, God looked down upon the Egyptian army from a pillar of fire and cloud and threw the Egyptian army into panic” (Exod. 14:24), then noting “at dawn the sea returned to its normal state” (Exod.14:27).

Both emphasize the impact of seeing the dead on the shore:

The Anthem begins its second stanza with “On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes.” The Song says: “And that the enemy was seen dead on the shore of the sea” (Exod. 14:30). The Anthem and the Song refer to the enemy’s arrogance similarly: The Anthem says: “The foe haughty host” (second stanza); whereas the Song quotes the “foe” arrogantly screaming his sevenfold murderous intentions “I, I, I, my, I, my, my” (Exod. 15:19).

Both focus listeners’ imaginations on the waters of the deep and the blowing of the wind in describing the battle: The Anthem notes “the mists of the deep” and “the breeze … fitfully blows” (second stanza); whereas the Song states: “The deeps covered them” (Exod. 15:4); “You made Your wind blow, the sea covered them” (Exod. 15:10).

A line added to the Anthem during the Civil War underscores the ramifications of those saved: “By the millions unchained, who our birthright have gained”; whereas the middle of the Song states: “In Your love You lead the people You redeemed” (Exod. 15:13).

Finally, both paeans place their trust in a saving God. The Anthem concludes with: “Praise the power that hath made and preserved us a nation,” saying “our motto – “In God is our trust”; whereas the Song is introduced, proclaiming: “On that day, God saved Israel from the hand of Egypt” (Exod. 14:30) initiating the Song with: “They trusted in God” (Exod.14:31).

As the Song begins, so the Anthem ends.

Indeed, the title itself, “The Star-Spangled Banner,” harks back to Israel’s triumph over Amalek in the next scene where it states: “God is my banner” (Exod. 17:15)

Unbeknownst to the millions who have sung the Anthem. The Star-Spangled Banner serves as the American version of the liturgized biblical Song at the Sea, emblazoned in our memory and abiding on our lips.

Key Words in the Narrative of Aaron’s Death

Itamar Warhaftig

Rabbi Dr. Itamar Warhaftig is professor of Jewish law (emeritus) at Bar-Ilan University and affiliated with the Zomet Institute in Alon Shvut.

In the account of Aaron’s death (Numbers 20:22–29), several leitwort-style expressions appear—that is, words or phrases that recur at least twice. Let us trace these occurrences and examine their significance.

The phrase “Aaron shall be gathered to his people” appears in verse 24, and again in verse 26: “And Aaron shall be gathered and shall die there.”

This expression—“to be gathered to his people”—demands explanation, even aside from its repetition.

This phrase appears in the Torah in four other death-related contexts:

Regarding Abraham: “and he was gathered to his people” (Gen. 25:8);

Regarding Isaac: “and he was gathered to his people” (Gen. 35:29);

Regarding Jacob: “and he was gathered to his people” (Gen. 49:33);

Regarding Moses: “and be gathered to your people, as Aaron your brother died” (Deut. 32:50); and in that same verse, the phrase is reiterated in reference to Aaron: “as Aaron your brother died on Mount Hor and was gathered to his people.”

In other words, only the national leaders—the Patriarchs, Moses, and Aaron—were granted this particular form of epitaph.[1]

What does this expression mean? Ibn Ezra, commenting on Genesis 25:8, writes:

“He was gathered to his people”—some say this refers to the honor of the soul: as long as it is preoccupied with the body, it is as if divided or separate. When the body is separated, the honor is gathered to its people.

Others say that this is simply an idiom, meaning he followed the path of his ancestors, as in: “and you shall go to your fathers in peace” (Gen. 15:15).

The first interpretation requires further elucidation. Let us cite the explanation of R. David Zvi Hoffmann (on Genesis ad loc.), who follows Ibn Ezra:

“All of these expressions indicate that among the people of Israel, there always existed a belief in life after death. Death was not perceived as annihilation, but rather as a reunion with one’s ancestors or with members of the nation who had already departed, all of whom become united in the World of Truth. The punishment incurred by one who transgresses certain sins is: “that soul shall be cut off from his people” (Leviticus 17:9)—that is, he will no longer be united with the rest of his people after death. It is worth noting that this punishment is generally directed at the soul, whereas the aforementioned expressions concerning death do not explicitly reference the soul. It may be that this is because the punishment targets the soul in particular, whereas the body is in any case gathered to the ancestral grave. By contrast, the phrase “he was gathered to his people” pertains, from the outset, to both body and soul together.”

One may further infer from this a veiled allusion to the World to Come, in the sense of a realm of souls. Moreover, this realm of souls exists in the collective gathering of the people of Israel. There is, as it were, a kind of spiritual center of souls, into which the great leaders of the nation are especially gathered—namely, the Patriarchs, Moses, and Aaron.[2]

The second recurring expression is “Mount Hor” (Num. 20:22), repeated in verse 23: “at Mount Hor.”

Rashi comments: “A mountain atop a mountain, like a small apple atop a large one.”

It seems to me that there is here an allusion to Aaron’s persona. He is a leader elevated above his people—yet a small leader in two senses. First, he stands in the shadow of the great leader, Moses. Second, he lowered himself to the people during the episode of the Golden Calf—he seemingly joined them, for he did not want the people to descend entirely into ruin, to a point of irreparable damage (see below). As is well known, Aaron was also one who loved peace and pursued peace[3]—and for this reason the parashah concludes with the verse: “And all the house of Israel wept for Aaron for thirty days” (Num. 20:29). Rashi comments: “The men and the women, because Aaron pursued peace and instilled love between disputants and between husband and wife.”

That is, a small mountain directly joined to the larger section beneath it.

Another recurring expression is “kol ha‘edah”—“all the congregation.”

“And the children of Israel, all the congregation, came” (Num. 20:22); again in verse 27: “before the eyes of all the congregation”; and a third time in verse 29: “and all the congregation saw.”

Several questions arise here: What is the meaning of the term ‘edah (“congregation”)? What is the significance of the emphasis on “kol ha‘edah” (“all the congregation”)? And in the first verse, another difficulty emerges: what is the import of the redundancy “the children of Israel, all the congregation”?

Let us begin with the first question. The initial occurrence of this expression is in Exodus 12:3: “Speak to all the congregation of Israel, saying: On the tenth of this month, let each man take a lamb for his father’s house, a lamb for each household.”

R. Samson Raphael Hirsch explains: “‘Adat’, ‘edah’ derives from the root יעד (ya‘ad) – to designate a purpose; it denotes a collective bound together by the unity of its function.”[4]

Thus, the designation ‘edah also carries the connotation of unity. In this context, the Torah emphasizes that the entire congregation was united in accompanying Aaron at his departure, for Aaron was beloved by all—one who loved peace and pursued peace.

Rashi infers the same from the redundancy of “the children of Israel” and “the congregation”, as cited above.

Since one could already derive this from the threefold repetition of the word “all” (kol), I would like to propose a different resolution for the redundancy of “the children of Israel” and “the congregation.”

The distinction between Israel and Jacob is well known. The name Israel connotes those of distinction; the name Jacob, the less significant. Thus writes Malbim in his commentary to Isaiah 43:1:

“There is a difference between Jacob and Israel:
Jacob is used when they are in a lowly state,
Israel is used when they are elevated and conduct themselves above nature, miraculously.”

That is, with regard to their origins—which in allegory relate to the material substance of the nation—they are Jacob. But with respect to their essential form, they are Israel: princes and sovereigns over nature and its affairs.

The Torah wishes to indicate that at this moment, the death of Aaron, the children of Israel in some measure repaired the sin of the Golden Calf. Aaron had attempted to dissuade them from sinning. At first he said, “a festival to the Lord tomorrow” (Exod. 32:5). Rashi comments: “He meant to delay them… perhaps Moses would return before they served it.” When that failed and he requested the golden earrings, Rashi explains: “He said, better the sin be attached to me than to them.”

The Talmud had already noted Aaron’s self-sacrifice. In Sanhedrin 7a we read:

“R. Tanchum bar Chanilai said: This verse was said only in reference to the Golden Calf. As it is written: “And Aaron saw and built an altar before it”—what did he see?”

R. Binyamin bar Yefet said in the name of R. Elazar: He saw that Hur had been slaughtered before him. He said: If I do not obey them now, they will do to me what they did to Hur (whom they murdered), and the verse will be fulfilled in me: “Shall a priest and prophet be slain in the Temple of the Lord?”—and they will never be able to be repaired.

Better that they should serve the calf, and then perhaps they can still repent. (Targum ad loc.)

In his commentary Ha‘ameq Davar to Exodus 32:5, the Netziv explains Aaron’s thought process:

And although he knew that he would not escape judgment—having caused many people to sin in idolatry—nonetheless this righteous man gave over his soul and spirit out of love for Israel.”

Now, they remembered his kindness and came together to honor him. And they elevated themselves to the level of “Israel”. The entire congregation now came to part from Aaron—who had never parted from them, even in their hour of sin.[5]

To summarize: the Torah employs several key words and guiding expressions that are attuned to the spirit of the passage.

If I am correct, it is worth investigating whether this phenomenon recurs in other passages of the Torah.

Notes:

This article is a translation of Itamar Warhaftig, “Key Words in the Narrative of Aaron’s Death,” Daf Shvui (Bar-Ilan University), no. 1625: Parashat Chukat (5 July 2025): 3-4 (Hebrew).

[1] It is true that Ishmael too is described as being “gathered to his people” (Gen. 25:17), which perhaps intimates that he repented.
[2] In contrast to this, not only those liable for karet (spiritual excision) are excluded, as R. David Zvi Hoffmann notes, but even other sinners—for example, a priest who marries a divorcée loses his sanctity, as it is written: “He shall not defile himself as a husband among his people so as to profane himself” (Lev. 21:4); see Rashi there.
[3] Mishnah Avot 1:12: Hillel and Shammai received [the tradition] from them. Hillel says: “Be of the disciples of Aaron—one who loves peace and pursues peace, who loves all creatures and draws them near to the Torah.”
[4] In his commentary to Exodus 16:1, R. Hirsch also remarks on the phrase “all the congregation of the children of Israel”:

“The phrase kol adat benei Yisrael denotes the entirety of the Israelite public in its loftiest sense—the whole people unified in its common purpose. It is the entire nation destined to be the congregation of the Lord. The emphasis on the designation ‘edah at the outset of the narrative prepares the reader’s heart for the coming events, which are of great importance to the collective destiny of the congregation of Israel.”
[5] One should also mention that Aaron halted the plague following the sin of Korah and his assembly, by undertaking a perilous act as he ran with the incense. This deed deserves separate analysis, which is beyond the scope of this discussion.

The Rising Lion: From Balaam to Leibowitz and Back Again

Warren Zev Harvey

Warren Zev Harvey is Professor Emeritus in the Department of Jewish Thought at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. He is the author of numerous studies on medieval and modern Jewish philosophy and the recipient of the EMET Prize in the Humanities (2009).

The great prophet of the gentiles, Balaam son of Beor, blessed the people of Israel with a blessing for military success: “Behold, a people shall rise up as a lion [labiʾ], and exalt himself as a regal lion [ari],[1] and shall not lie down until he eat of the prey and drink the blood of the slain” (Numbers 23:24).[2] Israel shall leap up like a lion and not rest until it has fully conquered its enemies. The prophet’s blessing is raw, forceful, and not politically correct. It is just because of verses like this that Friedrich Nietzsche so admired the Hebrew Bible. Indeed, what is the lion rising up and exalting himself if not the terrible blonde Bestie? Such is the morality and style of ancient Hebrew Scripture.

But “the language of the Torah is one thing, and that of the Sages something else” (BT ʿAbodah Zarah 58b). The Sages took Balaam son of Beor’s militaristic prophecy and turned it into a prophecy concerning a spiritual “rising up.” They changed “prey” and “blood” to “Torah” and “mitzvot.” In Midrash Tanḥuma (Mantua, Balak [14], 88b; Buber, Balak 23, 73a; cf. Numbers Rabbah 20:20), we read: “Behold, a people shall rise up as a lion – there is no nation in the world like them. Although they had been asleep to the Torah and the mitzvot, they awoke from their slumber like lions, eagerly recited the Shemaʿ, and proclaimed the kingship of the Holy One, blessed be He.”[4] The midrash speaks of a metaphorical slumber (cf. Maimonides, Laws of Repentance 3:4),[5] that is, a period during which Jews neglected the Torah and the mitzvot, such as the Babylonian exile, but in the end they awakened from their slumber and arose like lions to proclaim the unity of God and to crown Him as King.

In his Commentary on Numbers 23:24, Rashi quotes this text from Midrash Tanḥuma, but with significant changes. First, he does not interpret the Israelites’ sleep as metaphorical, but as literal. Second, he understands the lion to refer not to the Israelite “nation,” but to the individual Jew. Third, he conceives the character of the lion in light the Mishnah: “Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a gazelle, and mighty [gibbor] as a lion to do the will of your Father in heaven” (Abot 5:20).[6] Rashi writes: “‘Behold, a people shall rise up as a lion — when they awake [ʿomdin] from their sleep in the morning, they rise up mightily [mitgabberin] like a lion or regal lion [ke-ari] and eagerly perform the mitzvot: donning the tallit, reciting the Shemaʿ, and laying tefillin.”[7] In Rashi’s artfully revised midrash, the subject is not a historical event in which the people of Israel have sinned but now repent and return to monotheism, but rather it is the daily routine of the individual Jew who arises mightily each morning as a lion to perform the mitzvot. Rashi adroitly shifts the focus from nation to individual, from national morality to personal morality. Inspired by the Mishnah, he employs the verb mitgabberin (“they rise up mightily / valorously / heroically”). The Jew awakens every day at dawn and as a mighty lion he eagerly performs the mitzvot. In the words of Maharal, commenting on Rashi: “The mitzvot are acts of valor” (Gur Aryeh, ad loc.).[8]

When Rabbi Jacob ben Asher sought an opening for the “Laws of Conduct in the Morning” (Hilkhot Hanhagot ha-Adam ba-Boqer) at the beginning of his Arbaʿah Turim, he selected the Mishnah: “Be bold as a leopard, light as an eagle, swift as a gazelle, and mighty [gibbor] as a lion to do the will of your Father in heaven” (Oraḥ Ḥayyim, 1). But when Rabbi Joseph Karo sought an opening for his analogous “Laws of Conduct in the Morning” (Hilkhot Hanagat ha-Adam ba-Boqer) at the beginning of his Shulḥan ʿArukh, he recalled Rashi’s Commentary on Numbers 23:24, and wrote: “One should be mighty as a lion to arise [yitgabber ke-ari laʿamod] in the morning for the service of one’s Creator, and one should awaken the dawn! [cf. Psalms 57:9]” (Oraḥ Ḥayyim, 1).[9] The first three Hebrew words here reflect three words in Rashi’s Commentary: mitgabberin, ke-ari, and ʿomdin. Rabbi Joseph Karo thus transformed Rashi’s descriptive account of one’s morning conduct into an explicit command: One should be mighty as a lion to arise in the morning for the service of one’s Creator!

This stirring opening of the Shulḥan ʿArukh made a profound impression on the Israeli philosopher Yeshayahu Leibowitz. He quoted it frequently in his writings and lectures. In one passage he writes: “The slogan of theocentric religion is ʿabodah, the service of God, and its purpose is formulated in the first paragraph of the Shulḥan ʿArukh: One should be mighty as a lion to arise in the morning for the service of one’s Creator! In contrast to a religion conceived in terms of what it endows a person, there stands a religion conceived in terms of what it demands of a person. No opposition is deeper than this!” (Yahadut, Am Yehudi, u-Medinat Yisrael, Tel-Aviv 1975, p. 338).[10] The purpose of the demanding religion of Torah and mitzvot, Leibowitz emphasizes, is articulated in the imperative: Yitgabber! Be mighty, be valorous, be heroic! He further clarifies: “Life according to Torah and mitzvot is a life of heroism [geburah] in which a human being conquers his natural inclinations and needs and subjugates them to the service of his Creator” (ibid., p. 61).[11] The heroism of Rashi, Maharal, Rabbi Joseph Karo, and Leibowitz is that of performing the mitzvot.

At present the State of Israel has embarked on a difficult war against the Islamic Republic of Iran, and has named its campaign “Operation Rising Lion” (ʿAm ke-Labiʾ). During the long years of Exile, our Rabbis, like the homilists of Midrash Tanḥuma, Rashi, and Rabbi Joseph Karo, creatively developed a spiritual exegesis of the prophecy of Balaam son of Beor. They had a different morality and a different style. Now, with the independence of the sovereign State of Israel, we have – for better or for worse — returned to the original interpretation of the great prophet of the gentiles.

Notes:

* A Hebrew version of this article appeared in Yashar Magazine, 20 June 2025.

[1] It is difficult to translate labiʾ and ari. Hebrew has at least a half-dozen words for “lion” (ari, aryeh, kefir, labiʾ, layish, and shaḥal), while English has only one. Labiʾ may have influenced the Greek léōn, the Latin, leo, the English lion, and the Yiddish leyb. I have translated labiʾ as “lion” and ari as “regal lion” (cf. Rashi on Genesis 49:9).
[2] הֶן עָם כְּלָבִיא יָקוּם וְכַאֲרִי יִתְנַשָּׂא, לֹא יִשְׁכַּב עַד יֹאכַל טֶרֶף וְדַם חֲלָלִים יִשְׁתֶּה.
[3] לשון תורה לעצמה, לשון חכמים לעצמן.
[4] הֶן עָם כְּלָבִיא יָקוּם. אין לך אומה בעולם כיוצא בהם. הרי הם ישנים מן התורה ומן המצות, ועומדין משנתן כאריות, וחוטפין קריאת שמע וממליכין לקב”ה. I thank Rabbi Dr. Yaakov Jaffe, who has noted the very many places where the Rabbis turn military descriptions into spiritual ones; e.g., BT Berakhot 4a and 18b, Shabbat 63a, Pesaḥim 68a, Sanhedrin 7b, and 93b, and 111b, and Ḥagigah 14a.
[5] עורו ישנים משנתכם ונרדמים הקיצו מתרדמתכם וחפשו במעשיכם וחזרו בתשובה וזכרו בוראכם

(“Awake, you who sleep…from your slumber, search your deeds, return in repentance, and remember your Creator”). Cf. Immanuel Kant, Prolegomena to Any Future Metaphysics, ed. L.W. Beck, New York 1950, p. 8: “David Hume…interrupted my dogmatic slumber and gave my investigations in the field of speculative philosophy a new direction.”
[6] הווי עז כנמר, וקל כנשר, ורץ כצבי, וגיבור כארי, לעשות רצון אביך שבשמים.
[7] הֶן עָם כְּלָבִיא יָקוּם. כשהן עומדין משנתם שחרית, הן מתגברין כלביא וכארי לחטוף את המצוות, ללבוש טלית, לקרוא את שמע, ולהניח תפילין.
[8] ומפני שהמצוות הן גבורה, לפי שמי שעושה מצוה פועל פעולה אלוהית נפלאה (“The mitzvot are acts of valor, for whoever performs a mitzvah performs a wondrous divine act”).
[9] יתגבר כארי לעמוד בבוקר לעבודת בוראו, שיהא הוא מעורר השחר!
[10] סיסמתה של הדת התיאוצנטרית היא ‘עבודה‘, עבודת השם, ותכליתה מנוסחת בסעיף הראשון של שולחן-ערוך: ‘יתגבר כארי לעמוד בבוקר לעבודת בוראו‘. מול הדת הנתפסת מבחינת מה שהיא מעניקה לאדם, מוצגת הדת הנתפסת מבחינת מה שהיא תובעת מן האדם. ואין לך ניגוד עמוק מזה.
[11] החיים במסגרת של תורה ומצוות – הם חיי גבורה, שבהם האדם מתגבר על נטיותיו הטבעיות ועל צרכיו הטבעיים ומשעבד אותם לעבודת בוראו.

Book review – Nafshi BiShe’elati: The Halakhot of Mental Health

Ben Rothke

 

T.J. Hooper was a precedent-setting tort case[1] in 1932. Two tugboats, one of which was The T.J. Hooper, were towing barges. During a storm, the barges sank, and their cargoes lost. The owners of the cargo sued the barge owners, who in turn sued the tugboat owners. The barge owners claimed that the tug operators were negligent because they failed to equip their tugs with radios that would have warned them of the bad weather.

The tugboat companies defended under the prevailing practice theory. They claimed that because no other tugboat operators in the area were using radios, this constituted the industry standard of care.

Judge Learned Hand found the tugboat companies liable because they did not use readily available technology, radio receivers, to listen for broadcast weather reports, even though radio use was not yet standard industry practice 

Judge Hand observed, “Indeed, in most cases, reasonable prudence is, in fact, common prudence, but strictly it is never its measure. A whole calling may have unduly lagged in the adoption of new and available devices. Courts must in the end say what is required. There are precautions so imperative that even their universal disregard will not excuse their omission”.

I thought of the T.J. Hooper case when reading a most remarkable new book Nafshi BiShe’elati: The Halakhot of Mental Health[2] by Rabbi Yonatan Rosensweig and Dr. Shmuel Harris. Mental health is virgin ground in halacha and requires the subtle judgment of the most seasoned poskim. When Rav Asher Weiss used the term OCD in his teshuva in 1994 (Minchat Asher 2:134), it was, as I understand it, the first usage by a posek of the term OCD.

The authors quote Rav Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (1910-1995) who was asked if one may turn on an electronic device on Shabbat to play music for a choleh sheyesh bo sakana who likes it. Rav Auerbach responded, “My son may permit this, but I have difficulty.”

He explained, “When I was growing up, a sick person needed warmth, food, and drink. While I can understand these new psychological needs, like music, are in fact needed—of course you are right—it is very difficult for me to permit them.”

A century ago, giving the sick person, be it one who was physically ill or with a mental malady, warmth, food, and drink was all one could do. This was an era where ear infections were fatal, and those with mental illnesses were considered incapable of being productive members of society or even counted as part of a minyan.

Today, with far-reaching advances in mental health care and pharmacology, a rabbi today who provides a congregant with warmth, food, and drinks instead of a referral for psychological care may have blood on his hands. The authors write that rabbis should avoid trying to provide psychological treatment in place of a licensed professional.

This is required even though the rabbi’s role throughout history as a spiritual guide in whom his disciples and community can confide is still as crucial as ever. He should differentiate between someone in need of sage counsel or an attentive ear and someone with a mental illness who needs professional care. Consequently, it is imperative that rabbis receive mental health training so that they can adequately distinguish between mental states and identify signs that warrant referral for professional treatment.

The authors are a remarkable pair with Rosensweig, the accomplished rabbinic scholar, and Harris, the physician. Rosensweig serves as the Rabbi of the Netzach Menashe synagogue in Beit Shemesh, Israel. He also teaches in various post-high school institutions and is the author of a number of books. In 2021, he founded Maagalei Nefesh[3], on an organization that deals with issues about mental health and halakha.

Harris is a psychiatrist who has served as the former head of psychiatric services at Hadassah Mt. Scopus. He is also the founder of Machon Dvir[4], a mental health organization servicing the English-speaking community in Israel.

The late Chicago-based posek Rav Gedalia Dov Schwartz said when dealing with transgender issues, “They didn’t really prepare me for this in yeshiva.” Schwartz echoed the sentiment that what was studied in the pristine study halls was often theoretical and abstract and didn’t match what was occurring in the real world.

When it comes to mental health, many communal rabbis are finding that yeshiva didn’t prepare them to deal with congregants who have mental health issues. Many of which can be exacerbated by halacha. These rabbis must be educated in various areas and understand the many mental health issues to properly and effectively minister to their congregants.

Eating, for example, plays a large part in Jewish life. Between the weekly Sabbath meals, the Passover seder, and various holiday meals, nearly 20% of the Jewish calendar revolves around meals or a fast.

So when a rabbi has a congregant with anorexia nervosa or other types of eating disorders, how they respond can have life or death repercussions as eating disorders have one of the highest mortality rates in comparison to other psychiatric illnesses, as 20% of anorexia nervosa deaths, are due to suicide. In addition, those with eating disorders are much more likely to engage in self-harm and experience suicidal ideation.

Anorexia nervosa is germane not just to eating but to fasting also. The authors detail situations where a person suffering from anorexia nervosa would be obligated to eat on a fast day, including Yom Kippur.

Most rabbis will wear out their copies of Hamadrich, The RCA Lifecycle Guide[5], as it is the go-to guide for various lifecycle events. Yet when it comes to mental health and halacha, there is no Hamadrich. And that is precisely the gap that Nafshi BiShe’elati brilliantly fills.

The book deals with every area where mental health and halacha intersect: Shabbat and holidays, marriage, divorce, relationships, prayer, kashrut, and much more.

As the authors live in Israel, they quote heavily on Israeli poskim. Readers will be introduced to poskim such as Rabbis Eliyahu Abergel, Reem Hacohen (Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Otniel), Yuval Cherlow (Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Hesder Amit Orot Shaul), and more.

In many areas, halacha addresses the status of the shoteh, someone not in total control of their mental facilities. The concept of shoteh is a difficult one to define and has been applied in relation to many different cases. The most common uses of the term have been reserved for and most closely describe the clinical phenomenon of psychosis, the state in which the individual lacks the ability to distinguish reality from fantasy.

With that, the book open with an analysis of shoteh, and the different levels it entails, including shoteh gamur, general shtut, shoteh ledavar ehad, and more. Defining what and who a shoteh is not an academic exercise. It can, in fact, have life-and-death consequences.

One is allowed to violate the sabbath for someone as the presumption is that it will enable them to observe many sabbaths in the future. One could argue, although the halacha is not like this, that Shabbat may not be violated to save a shoteh, as it will not bring them to observe more Shabbatot.

While a shoteh is exempt from the performance of mitzvot, the Maharil writes that if a man has a son who is a shoteh, he has fulfilled the mitzva of procreation, as writes that the shoteh has a soul, is a bar mitzva, and those of sound mind are cautioned about him.

The authors quote heavily from the late Rav Nahum Rabinovitch (former Rosh Yeshiva of the hesder yeshiva Birkat Moshe in Ma’ale Adumim). Rav Rabinovitch’s genius was matched by his sensitivity to the human condition.

Rav Rabinovitch believed that the very act of performing a mitzva can preserve a sense of being in good health for the shoteh, so it is important for them to perform mitzvot with or without assistance.

In Rupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy[6] Professor Haym Soloveitchik writes of the swing to the right, where a significant increase in chumras has had significant consequences for Jewish society and the nature of Jewish spirituality.

When dealing with the halachic needs of those with mental health issues, the authors quote valid halahic sources which show how far right and strict things have become as normative halacha. This includes countless things from running and jumping on Shabbat, having non-Jews play instruments on Shabbat for newly married couples (which was the custom in Ashkenaz during the Middle Ages), certain aspects of mikvah usage for women, and more.

As to mikvah use, women with anorexia suffer intensely whenever they must attend to their body or appearance. Cleaning the body and preparing it for mikvah immersion is not a simple affair for them, as it brings negative feelings about their body, sometimes including disgust, to the surface.

The authors write that it is very important for rabbis answering questions from women with eating disorders to be sensitive to their tremendous difficulties and instruct them to go easy on the mikvah preparations and do only the absolute minimum required by Halacha.

Similarly, the mikveh attendants must be aware when someone has an eating disorder and should respect their privacy and do their best to create a pleasant and relaxed environment for them.

The concept of yeridat hadorot is the belief in the intellectual inferiority of subsequent and contemporary Torah scholarship and spirituality compared to that of the past. Yet when it comes to dealing with those who are deaf, mute, or both; and those with mental health issues, one can certainly say it is aliya hadorot. Our ability today to deal with and integrate Jews with those maladies pales in comparison to how they were handled and treated in generations past.

This is a book of unique erudition on a crucial topic, and Nafshi BiShe’elati: The Halakhot of Mental Health is a remarkable guide that is required reading not just for every rabbi but for everyone. Most of us know someone who has a mental health issue or is just one degree of separation from those who do.

It wasn’t that long ago that those with Down Syndrome were never let out of the house, and those with severe mental issues were lobotomized. Society in general, and Jewish society specifically, has come a long way in terms of mental health and how to deal with it. The book shows how Halacha is more than able to deal with these mental health situations. It’s incumbent on every rabbi and member of the Jewish community to understand how to deal with our brothers and sisters suffering from mental health issues.

This extraordinary book should be read by those looking for a serious and scholarly guide about halacha and mental health, a reference completely dedicated to halacha’s fealty.

[1] http://itlaw.wikia.com/wiki/T.J._Hooper
[2] https://korenpub.com/products/nafshi-bisheelati-halakhot-of-mental-health
[3] https://mnefesh.org
[4] https://machondvir.org/
[5] https://korenpub.com/products/hamadrikh-the-rca-lifecycle-guide
[6] https://traditiononline.org/rupture-and-reconstruction-the-transformation-of-contemporary-orthodoxy/