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New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 5

New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 5
by Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
The next post (or perhaps the one following) will return to my analysis of R. Kook’s recently published Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor with which this series began. Yet before doing so, there are a number of other points I would like to make and respond to some comments and questions.

1. In previous installments I have mentioned how R. Kook compares the Torah scholars and the masses, and how the masses have elements of natural morality that are not to be found among the scholars. This is not the only provocative distinction R. Kook makes. He also distinguishes between the great tzadikim and everyone else. These two groupings are, of course, different in many ways. Yet one of the most interesting distinctions R. Kook makes—and one can find parallels to this in Ibn Caspi and hasidic texts— is that for the elites the nitty-gritty of halakhic study can have a negative affect on their spiritual life. Here is what he writes in Shemonah Kevatzim 1:412:

האדם הגדול כשהוא מכניס את עצמו יותר מדאי במדת הפרטים, בין בלימודם בין בחרדתם, הרי הוא מתקטן, ומעלתו מתמעטת, וצריך לשוב בתשובה מאהבה, מתוך גדלות הנשמה, לקשר את תוכן חיי נשמתו בענינים גדולים ונשגבים.

R. Kook goes so far as to say that for these elites the very practice of mitzvot is not part of their spiritual identity per se. They have, as it were, moved beyond this, and their involvement with the practical sphere of mitzvot is based on their connection to the larger world.[1] I think that this passage, from Shemonah Kevatzim 1:410, is the most antinomian in all of R. Kook’s writings. In it we also see how problematic the halakhic details of life are to the special personality who wants to soar the heights of spirituality and yet has to be involved with practical halakhic matters. I think it obvious that R. Kook is reflecting his own personal spiritual struggle here. On the one hand, he wants to lose himself in love of and experience of God, to bind his soul with the divine. On the other hand, as a practicing rabbi he was called upon day in and day out to answer all sorts of everyday halakhic questions. One can imagine him alone in his study, enraptured in mysticism, even nearing prophetic insights, and someone comes to his door asking him to determine the kashrut of a dead chicken. With this he is brought down to the mundane halakhic world.[2]
ישנם אנשים גדולים כאלה, שמהלך רוחם הוא כל כך נשא, עד שמצדם אם כל העולם היה במעמדם, היו המצות בטלות כמו שיהיה לעתיד לבוא, לימות המשיח או תחיית המתים. והם בכל זאת מקושרים הם במצות הרבה מאד, לא למענם, כי אם למען העולם כולו, המקושר עמם. וכשהם באים אל הפרטים, לעסוק בהם מצד עצמם, מוצאים הם סתירות נפשיות גדולות האלה, שהם נמוגים מרוב יגונם. וכשבאים לעסוק בתורה ובמצות בפרטיות בשביל העולם, יושפע עליהם מעין של גבורה ושל קדושה, שאין דומה לו.
Let me also return to the issue of the Jewish masses’ natural morality vs. the rabbinically tuned morality of the scholars, and how according to R. Kook the former is superior to that of the latter. I was asked if I can provide some examples of this. I think the most obvious such example is the response to sexual abuse that we have witnessed in the Orthodox world. While the natural impulse of the masses was that abusers must be immediately removed from any contact with children, many of the learned rabbis were able to come up with all sorts of reasons why this was not necessary, and why the police should not be called. Over time the view of the rabbinic class has evolved and many of them now advocate a strong response to sexual abuse. However, what took them a long time to get to was immediately understood by the Jewish masses, and they understood it intuitively. Years from now people will wonder how it was that rabbis refused to protect children. It will be incomprehensible to them how this could have happened. We who lived through this experience know that it was precisely the pressure on the ground, from the Jewish laypeople (and the bloggers and newspapers), that forced changes in this matter.[3] Here I think is a good example where talmudic learning led scholars לטהר את השרץ בק”ן טעמים, while the Jewish masses, with their intuitive natural morality, saw that evil must be exposed and they emerged victorious.[4]

The same phenomenon was seen in the Leib Tropper affair, where once again it was the masses, together with a couple of indefatigable bloggers, who saw what was really going on, and forced the issue. This happened while many leading rabbis continued to stand by Tropper. They were oblivious to what was unfolding before their eyes and what was obvious to everyone but them.[5] And let’s not forget about all the gedolim who signed a letter in support of the monster Elior Chen.[6] It is difficult to make sense of these terrible lapses of rabbinic judgment with a haredi Daas Torah perspective, but with R. Kook’s analysis all becomes clear.

I thought of R. Kook’s comments on the intuitive morality of the masses after hearing a few shiurim on the subject of lo tehanem. One of them has since been removed from the site. Listening to these shiurim was shocking to me, not simply because I found the views discussed at odds with what everyone in my community regards as basic Jewish values (and matters about which we would be quick to criticize non-Jews if they ever spoke this way). What was particularly surprising was how the speakers, all learned talmudically, have fallen into what I would call the textualist trap of Centrism. What this means is that the written word has become so sanctified that they feel it is their obligation to resurrect every halakhah recorded in the standard codes in order improve the masses’ behavior.

Yet for all their learning, these rabbis don’t appreciate that there are some halakhot that simply fell out of practice. This happened in pre-modern times, before there were Reform and Conservative movements. In other words, it happened at a time when communities had the status of kehillah kedoshah. Because of this, historically the poskim generally tried to be melamed zekhut on the actions of the people, on the assumption that kol hamon ke-kol sha-dai, which is in line with how R. Kook understood the pious Jewish masses. That explains why, to give just one example, confronted with the fact that pious people did not wash before eating wet food, the vast majority of poskim tried to find a justification for this. They did not lecture the people about how they were sinning and try to resurrect a practice that had fallen out of fashion. Their assumption was that there must be some justification for the practice of the masses, even if it is not readily apparent.[7]

As Haym Soloveitchik discussed in “Rupture and Reconstruction,” there is today no faith in the practice of the masses. Therefore, instead of justifying the practices which oppose the textual tradition, the rabbis are attempting to reestablish the textual tradition. The problem with this is that there is also what I call an aggadic tradition, where values and morality were passed on, and this sometimes was in tension with the letter of the law. The Jewish people, acting with their innate Torah-intuitive morality, developed an approach, and this was recognized as legitimate until recent times.[8] So we now have a situation where shiurim are being given on the prohibition of lo tehanem telling people all sorts of things about how to relate to non-Jews that no one, and this includes great rabbis, ever paid attention to (e.g., one can’t say that X is a good baseball player!).

I am not going to get into the halakhic justification which can be offered as to why the pious Jewish people didn’t follow the letter of the law. There is indeed halakhic justification. (See R. Eliezer Waldenberg, Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 15 no. 47.) Yet my point is that the Jewish people didn’t need any specific halakhic justification, because they knew from their intuitive natural morality what was proper. This is what R. Yehudah Amital meant when he said that growing up in Hungary he never heard anyone talk about “halakhah this, and halakhah that”.[9] As R. Amital pointed out, the people who speak like this, who have an endless focus on halakhic particulars, are those who have lost touch with the tradition. In a traditional society there is no need for one to delve into endless halakhic details, as simply by growing up in this society one knows how to conduct oneself. In a traditional society, you don’t need books to tell you, for example, how big the matzah needs to be and how much water you need to wash your hands, and by the same token you don’t need books to tell you what you can and can’t say about the Mets’ leading slugger or whether or not you can give your maid a gift on her birthday. There has been so much discussion about how Haredism is a modern invention, but the truth is that Centrism, with its Pan-Halakhism, is just as much a modern invention as haredism. Looking around, it is actually some groups of Hasidim who are the only real traditionalists, the ones who have a mesorah and who don’t need to constantly look into a book to tell them how they should live. As the great Hungarian scholar Ludwig Blau put it, “A drop of tradition is worth more than a ton of acumen.”[10]

2. In my last post I summarized R. Eleazar Ashkenazi’s position in his Tzafnat Paneah, pp. 29-30, as follows:

He also offers another explanation for the lengthy lifespans [in the Torah], namely, that the Torah recorded what the popular belief was, no matter how exaggerated, and Moses was not concerned about these sorts of things. In other words, just like today people say that the Torah is not interested in a scientific presentation of how the world was created, R. Eleazar’s position is that the Torah is not interested in a historically accurate presentation.
Dr. Eric Lawee, who has a chapter on Ashkenazi in his forthcoming book, wrote to me that he reads Ashkenazi differently than I did. I went back to the text and thanks to Lawee, I would like to clarify some of what I wrote.[11] It appears that the first part of Ashkenazi’s comment is merely stating that the Torah recorded exaggerated numbers as figures of speech, much like the Land of Israel is described as flowing with milk and honey which was never meant to be understood literally. Although it is true that people understand the lifespans literally, Ashkenazi sees this as a misinterpretation of the Torah. In other words, it is not correct to say that the Torah recorded the exaggerated numbers because that was what the people believed.

Yet in this very discussion, Ashkenazi also states that the exaggerated numbers are only found in the very ancient stories. However, with regard to events closer to Moses’ time the latter was more careful about recording the details accurately. It is because of this comment that I wrote that Moses left the stories of the distant path cloaked in legend. I should have also clarified that Ashkenazi is only referring to the ענייניהם ושנותיהם of the ancients who are not part of the prophetic tradition which includes Adam, Noah, and the Patriarchs. Here Ashkenazi does seem to be saying that the Torah records popular conceptions, for if not from these conceptions, where did Moses get the inaccurate information that he recorded?

It is possible to explain that the lengthy lifespans of people like Adam and Noah, whom Ashkenazi stresses were of concern to Moses and he was therefore careful with regard to their details, were always intended be understood figuratively. However, with regard to the others mentioned in the early chapters of Genesis, Ashkenazi speaks of הגוזמות הספוריים הבלתי מדוקדקים , and here it seems that he does advocate the notion that the Torah is including material that was popularly believed, even if not accurate.[12] He also writes about how certain matters in the Torah were recorded בבלבול ובקיצור מופלג ומקומותיהם ומקריהם שלא בדקדוק One such matter is the genealogies, about which he writes: לא היתה הכוונה לדקדק במספר שנות חיי כל איש כי אם על דרך כלל

Ashkenazi’s viewpoint is interesting because he acknowledges that in certain factual matters the Torah is not exact, and indeed this is not a concern of the Torah. This sounds very similar to how many people explain the first few chapters of Genesis. Yet it is much less common for Orthodox spokesmen to extend this approach to later chapters of the Torah, e.g., to say that say the genealogies recorded are not accurate. But is there a conceptual difference between saying that the Torah is not interested in presenting creation in a historically accurate form, and that is why there is no mention of billons of years or of evolution, and saying that the Torah is not interested in exact genealogies, but simply presents what was commonly thought and this explains the lengthy lifespans? If there is no conceptual difference, where does one draw the line? Surely there are some parts of the Torah in which factual history must be assumed. This is an issue that has not yet been adequately dealt with, and I will soon be publishing a letter by a great Torah scholar which refers to this problem.

3. In the last post I cited an example where R. Shalom Messas was criticized for not understanding an Aggadah literally. More than one person thought that I should have cited sources showing how foolish it is to take bizarre aggadot literally. It is, of course, easy to cite such sources, beginning with the Rambam’s Introduction to Perek Helek.[13] Most of these are quite famous, so let me call attention to a book not so well known. It is R. Eliezer Lippmann’ Neusatz’ Mei Menuhot, published in 1884. Here is its title page.

Neusatz was a student of the Hatam Sofer, and this book appears with the approbation of R. Simhah Bunim Sofer (the Shevet Sofer).


Here is the first page of the approbations to his book Be-Tzir Eliezer. Pay careful attention to how R. Abraham Samuel Sofer (the Ketav Sofer) describes Neusatz’ standing as a student of the Hatam Sofer.
On p. 16a, after citing Maimonides’ words that the majority err in understanding aggadot literally, Neusatz comments that this was the situation in earlier times, which were less religiously sophisticated than later generations. The proof that the earlier generations were religiously naïve is that belief in divine corporeality was widespread then. According to Neusatz, people who were so mistaken about God that they imagined him as a corporeal being would obviously not be able to understand Aggadah in a non-literal fashion. He contrasts that with the generation he lived in, which was able to properly understand Aggadah.

אמנם בדורנו זה נזדככו יותר הרעיונות ונלטשו הלבבות והמושגים האלהיים הנשגבים האלה מצטיירים בלבות המאמינים בטוהר יותר ורוב זוהר, ונתמעטו אנשי הכת הזאת, ותה”ל רובם יודעים שחז”ל כתבו אגדותיהם ע”ד משל ומליצה וחדות וכפי הצורך אשר היה להם לפי ענין הדורות אשר היה לפניהם, פנימיותם הם ענינים אמתיים נשגבים עומדים ברומו של עולם.
I assume that Neusatz would say that the traditional notion of the generations declining only refers to the scholars, as it is obvious from his words that when it comes to the masses the generations have been getting better.

Neusatz also has an interesting explanation as to why certain prophecies, in particular those of Ezekiel, are not written in proper grammatical Hebrew. This was already commented on by Abarbanel. Abarbanel simply attributes this to Ezekiel’s and Jeremiah’s unpolished Hebrew skills![14] He further claims that this is why there are an abundance of keri u-khetiv, ketiv ve-lo keri etc. in the book of Jeremiah. The original Hebrew had to be corrected!

Neusatz has a different approach to explain certain prophets’ apparent deficiencies in the Hebrew language. He explains that since the prophets were speaking to the lower classes, and they wanted their message to sink in, they adjusted their language accordingly. (Mei Menuhot, pp. 13b, 34b). This is also how he explains certain passages in the book of Ezekiel which would appear to be at odds with modest and proper speech. Since the prophet was speaking to the masses, he had to use their coarse language (p. 35a). This is no different than politicians today, who adopt a certain mode of speech to connect with the listeners. It also explains many of R. Ovadiah Yosef’s outrageous comments. In speaking to the masses he forgets who he is, and uses the sort of lower class language that allows him to connect with his listeners, but that is not acceptable for someone in his position.

Neusatz calls attention to R. Joseph Albo’s comment, Sefer ha-Ikarim 3:25, that even the Torah was written so as to speak to its various audiences, which included not just the wise people but also the foolish ones:

לפי שהתורה לא נתנה לחכמים ולמשכילים בלבד, אבל לכל העם מקצה גדולים וקטנים חכמים וטפשים, ראוי שיבואו בה דברים מוכנים [צ”ל מובנים כמ”ש במהדורת הוזיק] לכל.
Neusatz is also explicit that very few aggadot are actually the result of the Sages’ ruah ha-kodesh (p. 32a). He states that Maimonides’ astronomical views in the Mishneh Torah do not come from a holy source, but from the Greeks, and in our day must be rejected (p. 38a). He also acknowledges that at times the Sages’ opinions were based on the best scientific knowledge of their time, which we now know is mistaken (pp. 36a-36b, 38a-38b). On page 39b he discusses Maimonides’ rejection of astrology. The problem with Maimonides’ position is that the Talmud clearly accepts astrology. In Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters I argue that Maimonides must have assumed that the greatest of the Sages rejected astrology. Yet the problem is that although Maimonides might assume this, is there any rabbinic source to justify this assumption? Neusatz argues that there is. There is a famous rabbinic statement in Shabbat 156a: אין מזל לישראל This means that Israel is not under the planetary influence. However, the statement is not a denial of the efficacy of astrology per se, and indeed assumes that the nations of the world are under the planetary influences. In very original fashion, Neusatz argues for a different understanding of the statement that he believes was shared by Maimonides:

והנה ידוע דעת הרמב”ם שהמזל אינו פועל כלל ונ”ל דס”ל שזה הוא כונת ר’ עקיבא ור’ יוחנן ורב ושמואל ורב נחמן ב”י בסוף מסכת שבת שאמרו אין מזל לישראל, וכונתם שאין ראוי לישראל עם חכם להאמין שמזל פועל.

In other words, אין מזל לישראל means that it is not proper for a smart people like the Jews to believe in the efficacy of astrology!

Neusatz also discusses Maimonides’ general attitude towards superstition, and argues that today, when all the superstitious beliefs have been proven false, it is a religious requirement to advocate Maimonides’ approach in these matters (p. 40b). As to why the Sages appear to believe all these superstitions, Neusatz assumes that they had to deal with the masses who were enmeshed in these notions, and that as long as the superstitious ideas were not idolatrous, the Sages were willing to tolerate them (p. 41ff. This is exactly Meiri’s view with regard to Zugot, but Neusatz had no way of knowing this as this section of the Meiri had not yet appeared in print.) Neusatz adopts the same view with regard to demons, which like Maimonides he too sees as non-existent (pp. 43ff.).[15]

Neusatz sees no harm in the Sages using common figures of speech if they never actually took them literally. Just as today we use expressions such as “the devil is in the details,” so too the Sages would refer to phenomena as due to a demon even though they didn’t believe this literally. To support this assumption, he brings a very interesting example where the Sages even used a mythological image (p. 45a). Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 6, in speaking of the sun, writes: “The sun rides in a chariot and rises, crowned as a bridegroom.” This is obviously taken from the Greek myth of Helios, the god who drives the chariot of the sun across the sky every day. Yet despite this mythological origin, which Neusatz assumes must have been known to the Sages, the image appears in a Midrashic text. Neusatz writes:

ומי לא יבין? שרק על צד יופי הדבור והמשל אמרו כן לציירה כפי פעולתה, באשר מימי קדם ועד היום מפורסם משל זה לפעולת השמש ניתן לה מאת בעלי הממשילים (קראם הרמב”ם טלסמאות ובל”א מיטאלאגיע) ועד היום מציירים הממשילים את פעולת השמש בתמונה זו וכנודע.
It is in his discussion of demons that Neusatz brings amazing testimony from the Hatam Sofer, rejecting the authenticity of the vast majority of what is included in the book known as the Zohar.[16] Before quoting it, let me repeat that this book has the haskamah of the Hatam Sofer’s grandson, R. Simhah Bunim Sofer (the Shevet Sofer). Here is what Neusatz writes on p. 43b:
בפירוש שמעתי כן מפה קדוש אדומ”ו גאון ישראל קדוש ד’ מכובד מוהר”ר משה סופר זצוק”ל אב”ד ור”ם דק”ק פרעשבורג שאמר בפני רבים מתלמידיו, אלו היה יכולת ביד אדם להעמיד מדרשי רשב”י על טהרתן לבררם מתוך מה שנתחבר אליהם מחכמי הדורות שאחריו לא יהיה כולו רק ספר קטן הכמות מאד מחזיק דפים מעוטים.
The Hatam Sofer is often portrayed as both a religious extremist as well as lacking a critical sense. The first assumption, that he was an extremist, is absolutely false and is a creation of the nineteenth-century Reformers. I won’t go into it here, but suffice it to say that the Hatam Sofer was often a very lenient posek, the exact opposite of what people mean by “extremism”.

As for not having a critical sense, this too is false. I am not saying that he viewed matters as did R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes or R. Solomon Judah Rapoport,[17] but the quotation from Neusatz shows that the Hatam Sofer was much more complex than he was caricatured by his opponents. There are numerous examples that could be cited to illustrate this. In Limits of Orthodox Theology I mentioned that the Hatam Sofer leaned towards Ibn Ezra’s view that the entire last chapter of Deuteronomy was not written by Moses. He also wondered whether the Targum on Ruth was of Sadducean origin.[18] Another example relates to what was discussed in this post regarding the Jerusalem Talmud’s view that there is a mistake in the book of Jeremiah. (I neglected to mention that the J. Talmud there also states that there is a mistake in the book of Ezekiel.) According to the Hatam Sofer, the mistake in our book of Jeremiah is due to an erroneous emendation that dates back to biblical times.[19]

4. In my last post I quoted what R. Itzele of Ponovezh said about the superiority of the religious masses’ outlook to the Daas Torah of the gedolim. I had originally quoted this in an earlier post and referred to what R. Avraham Shapiro said about it. R. Avraham, before he became known as the Rosh Yeshiva of Merkaz ha-Rav and Chief Rabbi of Israel, had published R. Itzele’s teshuvot, Zekher Yitzhak, in 1949. Here is the title page of the book (taken from hebrewbooks.org).
Unfortunately, the version on Otzar ha-Hokhmah has been censored. Here is the title page at it appears on Otzar ha-Hokhmah, with no indication as to who brought the book to publication.

The Otzar ha-Hokhmah version is also missing R. Avraham’s learned introduction. I have no doubt that Otzar ha-Hokhmah is innocent in this matter, and was unaware that the volume it put online had been tampered with. (If you have Otzar ha-Hokhmah there is actually no reason to use the first edition of Zekher Yitzhak, as a second edition, with an additional volume, was published by Machon Yerushalayim in 2000, and this is also found on the Otzar.)

All this is by way of introduction to saying that a couple of people wondered if R. Avraham had any interesting ideas in addition to being a posek and Talmudist.. Many people indeed only see him in the latter mold. I remember some years ago when I asked an acquaintance in Israel how it was possible that some people in Merkaz ha-Rav were willing to go against the Rosh Yeshiva, R. Avraham, and establish Yeshivat Har ha-Mor. It was explained to me that “if you want to know if something is muktzeh, then you should ask R. Avraham. But in terms of hashkafah, R. [Zvi] Tau is the one to follow.”

Yet I think this is an exaggeration, and those who are interested in R. Avraham can find lots of interesting things in his book Morashah, as well as in the two volumes published on R. Avraham by R. Yitzhak Dadon, Imrei Shefer and Rosh Devarkha. (Dadon is the man – ספרא וסייפא – who killed the terrorist who attacked Merkaz a few years ago.) I have also given two lectures on R. Avraham at Torah in Motion that can be downloaded.

R. Avraham knew an enormous amount about the history of great Torah scholars, and while he didn’t have a critical sense, he knew when a story was nonsense.[20] For example, R. Shalom Schwadron told a story about how when R. Kook, R. Isser Zalman Meltzer, and R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein were together once, they decided that each one should repeat a tractate of Talmud by heart.[21] That was the extent of their conversation. R. Avraham thinks that the story is, to put it bluntly, crazy. No normal person could sit and listen to someone else rattle off an entire tractate. Furthermore, are we supposed to think that these gedolim had no Torah to speak to each other about and that they would be happy to just sit and listen to the other repeat the Talmud? (Imrei Shefer, p. 269).

A valuable story is recorded in Imrei Shefer, p. 34. One of the students asked as follows: If when peeling a cucumber he mistakenly took off some of the cucumber itself, is that is regarded as ba’al tashhit? The students started laughing upon hearing this question, but R. Avraham became very serious. He replied:
זו שאלה של “עצבנות”, יש עצבנות ביראת-שמים, לכן מגיעים לשאלות כאלה. אדם נורמאלי מקלף וזהו! אסור לבחורים להגיע למצב של שאלות כאלה.
We see from here that R. Avraham was aware that there is a fine line between religious practice and obsessive-compulsive behavior. Many readers have probably come into contact with individuals who unfortunately have crossed the line. It is interesting to speculate if observance of halakhah can sometimes lead to obsessive-compulsive behavior or if it is simply that an obsessive-compulsive personality is able to function very well in the halakhic system. As for humrot and hiddurim, which many critics see as connected with obsessive-compulsive behavior, R. Avraham had a simpler approach. He believed that the humrot we see are simply because people have more money today than in the past. When you have money, you can adopt hiddurim that no one dreamed about years ago.[22]

Since many people who read this blog are very interested in R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik and his family, let me mention something fascinating in Imrei Shefer, p. 251. R. Yehoshua Magnes, one of R. Avraham’s leading students, is quoted as follows (and the information certainly come from R. Avraham): R. Moses Soloveitchik supported R. Isaac Rubenstein. The extremists wanted to put R. Moses in herem until R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz told them in no uncertain terms that one doesn’t put “the son of the Rebbe” in herem!

This is referring to the great dispute in Vilna over the chief rabbinate in the late 1920s. The Mizrachi decided to put forth their own candidate, Rubenstein, who emerged victorious. This was seen as a terrible slap in the face to R. Hayyim Ozer Grodzinski, who until then was regarded as the unofficial chief rabbi of Vilna. The election of Rubenstein was also a rejection of the tradition that, since the late eighteenth century, there was no chief rabbi in Vilna.[23]

This story, assuming it is true, answers a perplexity I had for some time. Making of a Godol, p. 749, relates how some Polish rabbis were so upset at R. Moses Soloveitchik that they threatened to put him in herem. In response to this threat, R. Baruch Ber is quoted as saying that one doesn’t put the son of the Rebbe in herem. The story quoted by Kamenetsky has to do with a rabbinical dispute between a certain Agudist rabbi and a Mizrachi shochet. We are told that R. Moses opposed R. Zvi Hanokh Levin’s support of the rabbi. Yet why would this occasion a herem? Others have assumed that the rabbis may have wanted to place him in herem for accepting the position at the Warsaw Takhkemoni, the Mizrachi school. Yet again, why would this lead to a herem? R. Hayyim’s great student, R. Shlomo Polachek, the Meitchiter, also taught at a Mizrachi school.

Assuming the information in Imrei Shefer is correct, all is understandable. If R. Moses supported R. Isaac Rubenstein, then the herem would make perfect sense. Here was an issue in which the entire rabbinic world had joined together to support R. Hayyim Ozer. The great dayan of Vilna, R. Henokh Eiges, the Marheshet, resigned from the Mizrachi on account of the slight to R. Hayyim Ozer’s honor. R. Aaron Rabinowitz, the son-in-law of R. Reines, the founder of Mizrachi, did likewise.[24] To support Rubenstein would thus be viewed as a terrible betrayal of rabbinic solidarity, which in the rabbinic mind would be deserving of a herem.

Why would R. Moses have supported Rubenstein? Presumably this was tied in with his opposition to Agudat Israel. It is known that he was quite opposed to the Agudah, claiming that in this opposition he was simply following in the path of his father, R. Hayyim .[25] In fact, this opposition explains another interesting point. In Keneset Yisrael 10 (1932), a journal published by the Hazon Ish’s brother and brother-in-law, there appears an article by “Shlomo Kohen.” Kohen was one of the Hazon Ish’s students, but the article was by the Hazon Ish. Why did the Hazon Ish not want to sign his own name to it? The article is directed against another article published by R. Moses Soloveitchik in Ha-Pardes, in which he cited the hiddushim of his son, R. Joseph Baer. As the Steipler explained, the Hazon Ish wanted to disprove what R. Moses wrote (in the name of his son) because R. Moses was associated with the Mizrachi (teaching at Takhkemoni) and he therefore wanted to diminish his stature (לבטלו).[26] In other words, the fact that the Hazon Ish decided to dispute with R. Moses (and he rarely disputed with contemporaries) was not because he so respected the latter, but the exact opposite.[27]

With regard to Mizrachi rabbis, let me quote something else repeated by R. Avraham Shapiro: The Hafetz Hayyim once wrote to a certain Mizrachi rabbi with all sorts of elaborate titles. When R. Velvel Soloveitchik was asked how the Hafetz Hayyim could write with such respect to a Mizrachi rabbi, R. Velvel responded that this is what happens when you don’t listen to any lashon ha-ra! (Imrei Shefer, p. 271). He said this as a criticism of the Hafetz Hayim. In other words, sometimes you need to listen to lashon ha-ra in order to know how to properly evaluate people. (R. Avraham was very upset with this story and doubted its veracity, although the comment is very much in line with how R. Velvel would express himself.)

Regarding Imrei Shefer, I was very happy to see on p. 267 that R. Avraham studied Kitvei R. Weinberg, which I published a number of years ago. Both volumes of this work are now available on hebrewbooks.org.

5. People continue to write to me about my earlier posts on R. Kook.[28] Many are fascinated with R. Kook’s position on sacrifices that I discussed here.
Let me therefore call attention to another recently published text, found in R. Tsuriel’s Peninei ha-Re’iyah, p. 212. (It earlier appeared in Meorot ha-Re’iyah, Haggadah shel Pesah, p. 225.). This is actually the text from which R. Kook’s famous words in Olat ha-Re’iyah, p, 292, are taken. There R. Kook envisions a future of vegetable sacrifices.


Olat ha-Re’iyah was published in 1939, after R. Kook’s death. Now that the original text of R. Kook’s words has been published, we can see how R. Zvi Yehudah did not merely “abridge” his father’s text, as Tsuriel puts it, but clearly censored it to soften its radicalism, which is a pattern seen again and again in R. Zvi Yehudah’s editing.

What appears in R. Kook’s original text is further elaboration about how in Messianic days the animals will be raised in intelligence to the level of man, and he even brings a biblical verse in support of this notion. Isaiah 43:20 reads: “The beasts of the field shall honor Me, the jackals and the ostriches.” The fact that animals are portrayed as honoring God shows that they will move beyond behavior based purely on instinct. Then R. Kook writes as follows, and pay careful attention to what I have underlined, which is undoubtedly the reason why R. Zvi Yehudah thought he had to censor the text.
אם כן יהיה כערך האדם עכשיו. על כן לא יהיה צריך לקרב מהם ולהקריב, ויהיה איסור בזה, ותהיה ההקרבה רק מנחה מהצומח, שהוא לא ישכיל עוד על שיעלהו בפועל. על כן תערב המנחה, ולא שאר קרבן מהחיים.

Here R. Kook isn’t just expressing a preference for vegetable sacrifices, but telling us that it will actually be forbidden to offer animal sacrifices.

Regarding Tsuriel’s Peninei ha-Re’iyah, some of the passages from R. Kook cited from manuscript are quite valuable. See e.g., p. 385, where R. Kook states that when it comes to a war to defend the Jewish people even the tribe of Levi goes out to fight. What this means, of course, is that R. Kook would be opposed to any draft exemption for yeshiva students.

In addition, Tsuriel has selected passages from R. Kook’s writings and arranged them in order of the various parshiyot, so that one can always find a good piece for a devar Torah. For parashat Metzora (p. 231), he quotes R. Kook’s statement in Ezrat Kohen, no. 21, that even if one expresses heretical thoughts, this doesn’t mean that he really is a heretic. Rather, it could be that he is simply trying to show that he is in line with what “the world” is saying, but it doesn’t mean that he really believes it.

This is just one more angle whereby R. Kook tries to defend the modern free-thinkers. His most famous defense is that modern heretics have the status of onsin, in that the environment today almost forces them into their false beliefs so that they cannot be held responsible for their views. He also states that those who express heretical beliefs are not really certain of their heresy, and it is only one who is certain in this who is to be regarded as a heretic.

With the publication of Shemoneh Kevatzim we see that R. Kook goes even further and completely removes the orthoprax individual from the status of heretic. I quoted the relevant passage here.
We see from R. Kook that one who holds a heretical belief, but lives as an observant Jew in his daily life, is regarded as part of the Torah community. As I put it in my earlier post: Two important things stand out. First, while not condoning orthopraxy, R. Kook states that one who is observant, despite the fact that he denies ikkarim, is to be regarded as an erring Jew, not as a heretic. R. Kook’s position is a complete rejection of the idea that people who are shomrei Torah u-mitzvot can be read out of the fold and be regarded as heretics because of their incorrect beliefs. The second important point is that he rejects the Rambam’s entire theological conception of Principles of Faith and aligns himself with the Ra’avad, showing once again that the Rambam’s position has not attained unanimity.[29]

Had R. Zvi Yehudah printed this text, we might have been spared some of the heresy hunting in the religious Zionist world, and discussions of whether one can drink this or that observant Jew’s wine due to the fact that he might have some heretical thoughts. In fact, it is only with the publication, uncensored, of R. Kook’s writings that the “lights” of his soul are revealed in all their grandeur. What other spiritual leader with unconventional views could declare that he is ready to fight the entire world for the truth as he sees it, to proclaim his views without any compromises and without worrying about what the “world” will say? While I greatly respect R. Herzog, R. Weinberg, and R. Soloveitchik, they certainly could never say the following (Pinkasei ha-Re’iyah [2010], vol. 2, p. 201):

“אם אני מוכרח להיות איש ריב לכל העולם מצד הנטיה של האמת העמוקה שבנפשי, שאינה סובלת שום הטיה של שקר, אי אפשר לי להיות איש אחר. וצריך אני להוציא מן הכח אל הפועל רק את יסודות האמת העקריים הצפונים ברוחי, בלא שום התחשבות עם מה שחושב העולם בכל הסכמותיו.” זהו הפתגם של דורש האמת, המתעורר בגבורתו העליונה.

See also ibid., p. 208, where we see his self-image as a prophet of old, and that no one other than he can see clearly what is taking place in the world:

מה יש עכשיו בעולם? וכי מפני שאין שום איש, ושום למדן ביחוד, רוצה להביט מה שיש עתה בעולם, וכי בשביל כך, גם אנכי לא אביט? לא! אני אינני משועבד להרבים. הנני הולך במסילתי, בדרך הישרה, ישר אביט.
R. Kook’s commitment to his path, despite the controversy that ensued, was a trait also seen in R. Shlomo Goren, with all the tragic consequences, both personal and professional. Perhaps the Lubavitcher Rebbe is the only one after R. Kook who was able to successfully chart a path undisturbed by the opposition, and without any need for compromise.

One other passage from R. Kook’s recently published Pinkasei ha-Re’iyah vol. 2, p. 207, is worth noting. While tolerance of opposing viewpoints is often viewed as characteristic of a watered-down commitment to one’s own belief, R. Kook adopts a different perspective:

הסבלנות בדעות, כשהיא באה מלב טהור ומנוקה מכל רשעה, אינה עלולה לקרר את להבת רגש הקודש שבתוכן האמונה הפשוטה, מקור אושר החיים כולם, כ”א להרחיב ולהגדיל את יסוד ההתלהבות המקודשת לשמים.


To be continued.
[1] For a different perspective, see the recently published Pinkesei ha-Re’iyah, vol. 3, p. 69, where R. Kook states that one might have expected non-Jewish philosophers, since they are not involved with practical mitzvot, to be able to attain a higher grasp of theological truths, as they can devote themselves exclusively to this. Yet R. Kook explains that this is not the case.
[2] In R. Soloveitchik’s Halakhic Man we also see his dissatisfaction with practical halakhic decision-making. His alternative to this is theoretical halakhic study, which is very different than what R. Kook saw as his goal. In the hasidic world, the communal rav was relegated to the role of halakhic technician, while the focus of spiritual leadership was the Rebbe, who did not involve himself in practical halakhic rulings.
[3] Together with the crackdown on sexual abuse, there have been other changes as well. In my youth there were teachers who would punish students physically. This was, in fact, the traditional method of disciplining students, and is mentioned in Makkot 2:2, Bava Batra 21a, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Talmud Torah 2:2, Rotzeah u-Shemirat ha-Nefesh 5:6, and Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 551:18, Yoreh Deah 245:10. See also the picture from the 1395 Coburg Pentateuch, of a teacher with his whip, available here.
It is clear from the rabbinic sources that the physical punishments were not designed to inflict real pain, although one wonders whether the picture from the Coburg Pentateuch reflects a harsher reality. See Elliot Horowitz, “The Way We Were: ‘Jewish Life in the Middle Ages,’” Jewish History 1 (Spring 1986), pp. 81-82. In any event, today, what parent will allow the teacher to lay a hand on his child, even if the pain is minor?
Even though, as mentioned, teachers were never supposed to inflict real pain, I think it is fair to say that the physical punishments over the generations sometimes did get out of hand (see next note). I recall vividly one rebbe who would squeeze kids’ arms and even throw them against the wall. Today, in every Modern Orthodox school and even some haredi schools, that type of behavior would be grounds for immediate termination. Regarding how students were physically punished in the great yeshivot, we have reports of Roshei Yeshiva and mashgichim who would slap students in the face. See e.g., Moshe Tzinovitz, Mir (Tel Aviv, 1981), p. 464; Shaul Stampfer, Ha-Yeshivah ha-Litait be-Hithavutah (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 335 n. 76. Even R. Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, who was a very gentle person, would occasionally slap a student in the face. On one occasion this even led to the students going “on strike” (i.e., ceasing all Torah study) in protest against the Netziv’s action. They viewed the slap as an insult to the entire student body since this was the sort of thing one would expect a melamed to do in a heder, not the rosh yeshiva of the great Volozhin. The Netziv was forced to publicly apologize to the entire student body. See M. Eisenstadt, “Revolutzyah ba-Yeshivah,” Ha-Tzefirah, 1 Sivan 5676; Stampfer, Ha-Yeshivah ha-Litait, pp. 128-129, 149.
On at least one occasion, a student certainly deserved being slapped in the face. It happened at Telz in 1905. At this time there were two mashgichim, and as was often the case at the great yeshivot, the students were very opposed to the mashgichim. (A few years earlier the students had gone on strike due to the invasive actions of a previous mashgiach, R. Aryeh Leib Hasman. See Stampfer, Ha-Yeshiva ha-Litait, p. 334.). One of the students waited above and when given the signal poured a bucket of fish sauce upon the mashgiach. R. Eliezer Gordon, the Rosh Yeshiva, slapped the suspected student on the face. Simcha Assaf, who records the story, tells us that this was the only time Gordon ever did such a thing. See Assaf, “Shenot ha-Limudim sheli bi-Yeshivat Telz (5665-5668),” in Immanuel Etkes and Shlomo Tikochinski, eds., Yeshivot Lita (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 235.

I have seen haredi authors who argue that opposition to physical punishment in school is a sign that people have moved away from “Torah values” in favor of modern psychology. See R. Chaim Rapoport’s response to this approach in his wonderful discussion of the issue in Datche 41 and 41 (2008). See also R. Avraham Steinberg, Encyclopedia Hilkhatit Refuit, vol. 6 cols. 767-768.

Another change in our era is that signs of physical affection between a rebbe and student, which at one time were very important especially as the rebbe served as a father figure, are no longer acceptable. A student cannot even sit on his rebbe’s lap, as was done in years past. It is reported that when R. Hayyim Soloveitchik visited his great student, R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz, who at this time was serving as rosh yeshiva of Keneset Beit Yitzhak in Slobodka, R. Baruch Ber sat on R. Hayyim’s lap. Just like he sat on R. Hayyim’s lap when he was a young student, R. Hayyim wanted R. Baruch Ber to sit on his lap when he was a grown man. See Making of a Gadol, p. 87. The fact that we could never imagine something like this happening today shows how different our mindset is. There are loads of stories of rebbes kissing their students. R. Zvi Yehudah Kook was known in particular for this. See e.g., Iturei Yerushalayim, no. 55 (2011), p. 4. Here are three stories from R. Shlomo Riskin’s recently published memoir, Listening to God, which also bring us back to a more innocent time.
I couldn’t wait to share my discovery [of Darwin’s theories and how they could help explain the Torah] with my rebbe, Rav Mandel, that Monday morning. I brought him the book, and showed him the relevant passages—totally ignorant of the “red flag” raised in religious circles by the mere mention of Darwin. Rav Mandel barely took the book in his hand; he slapped my face, and then kissed my forehead. “Your interpretations are magnificent, but it is forbidden to read such heretical literature,” he said gently. I smarted at the slap, felt vindicated by the kiss, and continued to adore my rebbe. . . . “ (p. 51)
Riskin describes being tested by Dr. Samuel Belkin.
He asked me which Talmudic tractate I was studying, spoke to me “in learning,” and gave me a section of Gemara and the Tosafot commentary to read. He then came around the desk where I was sitting, kissed me on the forehead, and said to Tante, “you’re right, He can have a full scholarship to Yeshiva University.”(pp. 67-68)
After Riskin passed the examination to become a city rabbi in Israel, “Rabbi [Shaul] Yisraeli rose—and visibly moved—kissed me on the forehead.” (p. 369)
In general, I have to say that Riskin’s book is quite interesting. I must note, however, that in a number of places where he is critical of people or tells a story that might be embarrassing, Riskin refers to individuals by their initials. If he did so in order to leave the figures anonymous, he was not entirely successful, since in a few cases it is not that hard to figure out whom he had in mind.
[4] Unfortunately, refusal to protect children is not a new thing. See this post where I mentioned even allowing rapists to go free.
What is new is that parents are now beginning to stand up. Here is a passage from a nineteenth-century memoir from which we see that in the past even murder was covered up. (The case described is definitely not manslaughter, which is what is described in Makkot 2:2 and Rambam, Hilkhot Rotzeah u-Shemirat ha-Nefesh 5:6. Incidentally, the latter two sources are only speaking about a society in which teachers were permitted to hit the students, and have no applicability today vis-à-vis most of the Orthodox world.)
One of the angry teachers I mentioned was nicknamed David with the tangled hair, as his head was covered with a mass of knotted hair. He was hot-tempered and frightening, and often came to within an inch of killing a pupil. When particularly enraged, he would lift a child up and ferociously throw him to the ground, so that he landed like a corpse. That actually did happen once. After the funeral the parents of the deceased never dared accuse him of murdering their child. They accepted it as preordained that their son should die while learning Torah, and so did the rest of the community. No one considered the melamed a murderer. Even the sons of M.S. who made it their business to ferret out sinners in the town, in order to cause strife and contention, kept silent on this matter, and David the melamed kept on teaching as if nothing had happened.
Yekhezkel Kotik, Journey to a Nineteenth-Century Shtetl (Detroit, 2002), p. 145. On p. 431, David Assaf, the editor, calls attention to a different memoir which tells of a child dying as a result of his melamed’s beating. On p. 145, Kotik also speaks of another melamed who “would take all his anger out on that particular part of the boy’s anatomy that is generally not mentioned in print.”
(In some segments of the hasidic world the cover-ups unfortunately also continue. Had the New Square madman succeeded and killed the five people in the house he was intent on burning down, does anyone think that the community would have assisted the police in finding the murderer? In a future post I will mention cases of murder and attempted murder carried out for “pious” reasons.)
After my previous post on ultra-Orthodox tolerance of sexual abuse, there were some who doubted that there is any rabbinic support for this. Those who can read Hebrew, please read the following responsum from R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 16, pp. 169-171.
According to Klein, there is never a time when sexual abuse can be reported to the police, even if a child is being continuously raped. That is because there are never two male witnesses who see the abuse. If someone does report the abuse, it is a mitzvah to kill the moser. If anyone has a difficult time understanding why a segment of the hasidic world time and again offers support for the perpetrator and ostracizes the victim, this is all the explanation you need. From their perspective, the victim who goes to the police is worse than the sexual abuser. Based on Klein’s understanding, I don’t think there is a “heter” for a woman who has been raped by a Jew to go to the police, because there is no halakhic evidence of a crime. (He also says that it is forbidden to turn in a murderer. In case anyone needs to be reminded how crazy this viewpoint is, I am writing these words only a few hours after the monster who killed Leiby Kletzky was identified.)

A friend insists that there is no difference between Klein’s position and that of Agudat Israel. This is not true at all. Whereas Klein states that someone can never be turned in to the police, the Agudah position is that a molester can be turned in, but only after a rabbi gives approval. The Agudah position continues to develop, and I have no doubt that in the end the Agudah will end up holding a position identical to that of the RCA. I also think that it is public pressure that will move Agudah in this direction, as public pressure has been responsible for all the adjustments in the Agudah’s position that we have seen until now.
Yet even without public pressure, the current Agudah position is so untenable, that it will have to be updated. For one, it asks people to violate the law. The law is clear that some people are obligated to contact the police when they suspect child abuse. By insisting that a rabbi be consulted before doing so, mandated reporters are being put in the position of being told by a rabbi to refrain from doing something that the law requires. Do the Agudah constituents realize that listening to the rabbi in these circumstances can open them up to both criminal and civil penalties?

As for the rabbis, I can’t imagine who would agree to be on the Agudah’s panel of rabbis that will examine accusations of abuse in order to determine if it is permitted to go to the police. If one of these rabbis rules that the evidence is not compelling and it is therefore forbidden to go to the police, and the rabbi is wrong, he opens himself (and the mandated reporter) to a lawsuit by the parents of the molested child. Whatever the ultimate verdict, the lawyer fees alone will end up bankrupting the rabbi. Is the Agudah prepared to set up a fund to defend rabbis sued by parents of molested children? Certainly not, which is why no rabbi who is thinking straight will ever agree to put himself in such a circumstance. The Agudah’s position also leaves the organization itself vulnerable to a lawsuit by parents of victims.

Finally, unlike so many of the cynics in our community, I don’t think the Agudah position is all about protecting rabbis, guilty or not. I really do believe that the Agudah recognizes that there is a problem. It is convinced that the rabbis it will charge with examining abuse cases will indeed make sure that molesters are turned in. The problem, however, is that we have seen all this before. We have seen over and over again that it is precisely the rabbis who have failed in this matter, often because they are not willing to turn on their own. It was precisely because of this that the community of laypeople rose up and said “No more.” One doesn’t need to be a prophet to see that by relying on individual rabbis to determine if an accusation of sexual abuse is credible, there will continue to be cover-ups. (Am I wrong in assuming that these cover-ups never would have happened if women were in charge? Would mothers ever have permitted child molesters to continue to prey on the young?)
The Agudah position is thus both a public relations and legal disaster in the making. The Church tried such an approach already and it doesn’t work. I don’t understand why such smart people in the Agudah don’t see how their new position is doomed to failure.
[5] See here where I attribute the rabbinic silence to the money Tropper was handing out. I also brought proof that even great rabbis are not immune to being influenced by money. Regarding this point, see the recent biography of R. Zvi Pesach Frank written by Shabbetai Dov Rosenthal, Geon ha-Hora’ah (Jerusalem, 2011),, vol. 1, pp. 410-411. A letter from R. Frank is published in which he criticizes members of the Israeli Chief Rabbinate (of which he was a member). The subjects of his criticism were gedolei Yisrael, and yet he accuses them of being improperly influenced by Israeli government money. He adds:
מי לנו גדול מהכהן הגדול שלא צירפוהו לדון בענין עיבור השנה, שהיה חשש נגיעה שמפני הקור יכריע שלא לעבר השנה
[6] See e.g., here.
[7] I hope to treat this phenomenon in great detail when I am able to complete my article on contemporary halakhic practices in opposition to the Shulhan Arukh.
[8] There are loads of sources that speak of the great weight to be assigned to the practices of the Jewish people, even when these practices appear to violate the textual halakhah. For one example, see R. Solomon Laniado, Beit Dino shel Shlomo (Jerusalem, 1986), Orah Hayyim no. 17 (p. 96): שכל מה שנהגו ישראל שכינה מוסכמת עמהם
Laniado (died 1793) was the chief rabbi of Aleppo.
[9] See my post here.
[10] Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, ed., The Rabbinical Seminary of Budapest 1877-1977 (New York, 1986), p. 77.
[11] I would also like to mention a recent article by Lawee that deals with some issues relevant to earlier installments of this series, such as the possibility of errors in the biblical text. See Lawee, “Isaac Abarbanel: From Medieval to Renaissance Jewish Biblical Scholarship,” in Magne Saebo, ed., Hebrew Bible/Old Testament (Goettingen, 2008), vol. 2, p. 210, who calls attention to Ibn Ezra, Ex. 25:29, who claims that there is a mistake in the Book of Chronicles. He also notes Abarbanel’s commentary to I Kings 10:22, which suggests another error in Chronicles, due to Ezra misunderstanding a verse in the Book of Kings.
[12] Elsewhere, Ashkenazi speaks of Moses having access to historical records, but there he assumes that these records are accurate. See Epstein, Mi-Kadmoniyot ha-Yehudim, p. 136:
כי כל התורה ברוח הקדש כתבה משה וידע שמות אלופי אדום ומשכנותם ומלכיהם ידועה [!] גמורה מפי ספרים ומפי סופרים ונודע לו האמת ונכתב בספר.
[13] See also this earlier post of mine.
[14] See Abarbanel’s introductions to Jeremiah, p. 298, and Ezekiel, p. 434. In the latter source he writes:
הן אמת שיחזקאל הנביא לא היה בקי בלשון הקדש ולא בכתיבתו
For other references, see Eric Lawee, Isaac Abarbanel’s Stance Toward Tradition )Albany, 2001), p. 276 n. 46.
[15] On p. 46a he offers a different perspective which I don’t think can be brought into line with what he says earlier. Here he accepts the existence of some sort of demonic beings, and claims that the superstition is only that humans can interact with and influence them. Neusatz’ book was published posthumously, and it is possible that had the author been alive he would have worked out a more consistent theory.
[16] In the next issue of Milin Havivin, I deal with Orthodox views of the Zohar. In the meantime, I was surprised to find that R. Berel Wein describes the Zohar in an unsympathetic manner. Although some may claim that Wein was only presenting the history, his less than reverential attitude towards the book comes across very clearly, even if he didn’t consciously intend this. See the video here.

For another surprising piece by Wein (called to my attention by Mel Barenholtz), see here.
Wein describes Midrash as “legend.” While this might be a term used by academics (and is in the title of Louis Ginzberg’s great work), the Yeshiva World has always rejected the word as a proper description. Wein’s entire article can be seen as a reflection on the fact that rabbis, in their sermons, quote all sorts of Midrashim as if they are historical, which they are of course not. So what value do these “legends” have, and why should we use them to fill in the “missing parts” of the biblical text? That is the question Wein deals with.
In fact, Wein’s entire article, with its demand for truth in history and the need to abandon fantasy, is the sort that in today’s day and age could generate a herem. Here, for example, is one very provocative sentence: “Many times legend becomes myth. Myth is a sense of human recognition that the story being told is not factual but it nevertheless changes legend from history or biography into literature and philosophy – sometimes sacred holy literature and philosophy.” (emphasis added). And how about this paragraph, which uses the word “mythology,” certainly knowing the knee-jerk reaction it will provoke among people.

The Torah does not deal with myth per se. Yet the Flood and Noah’s ark, the Tower of Babel, the centrality of the land of Israel, factual as they all are in the biblical narrative, nevertheless were all combined to create a basis for the holy mythology of the Jewish people. In addition, the idea that the “events of the works and decisions of our founders, the fathers of Israel, are a sure guidepost for their descendants” helped strengthen a mythology that binds the Jewish generations together and gives us insights into the values of Judaism and historical events, past and present (emphasis added).

In speaking of the Flood, Noah’s Ark and the Tower of Babel, Wein states that they are factual “in the biblical narrative.” Does this mean to imply that they are really not historical events, but it is only in the biblical narrative that they are regarded as factual? Since these events, Wein tells us, are among the great myths of Judaism, and he just finished telling us that myth is not factual, this seems to be what he is saying.
[17] These two scholars would never have said, as did the Hatam Sofer, that Yiddish was invented by the medieval Jewish sages to keep Jews separate from non-Jews. See She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Even ha-Ezer, vol. 2 no. 11. There are many other examples that show that the Hatam Sofer was still very much part of the medieval worldview, which is why I state that he is a complex figure. For instance, he still leaned towards Ptolemaic astronomy, centuries after Copernicus (although he acknowledged that the issue was complicated). See Eliezer Brodt’s post here.
Another example is the Hatam Sofer’s famous comment that he doesn’t understand the value of Jews training to be doctors in medical schools where they dissect non-Jewish bodies. Since Jews keep kosher, how can the information obtained from non-Jewish bodies be applicable to them? See Hiddushei Hatam Sofer, Avodah Zarah 31b. Yet I think it is more important is that in this very passage the Hatam Sofer also laments how there is no Jewish medical school.
[18] See Lishkat Soferim to Even ha-Ezer 17:43 (found in standard editions of the Shulhan Arukh).
[19] Derashot Hatam Sofer, vol. 1, p. 331b. This text is discussed here.
[20] The same was true with R. Moshe Feinstein. See R. Aharon Felder’s recently published Rishumei Aharon, pp. 18-19. This book has lots of interesting stories about R. Moshe. Felder is not afraid to point out how R. Moshe, unlike other Roshei Yeshiva, had a more moderate viewpoint when it came to attending college. See pp. 19-21. See also p. 21 for the following story, which shows R. Moshe as a real down-to-earth person, who was far removed from “frumkeit” and had little patience for the aspiring pietist:
פעם ניגש למו”ר זצ”ל חתן ביום חתונתו וביקש לדעת איזו כוונה צריך לכוין בשעת ביאת מצווה. פנה אליו מו”ר זצ”ל וענה “איני מאמין שתוכל לכוין כלל וכלל”. והוא לא הסתפק והמשיך לשאול שוב את שאלתו, אם אני יכול לכוין מה הכונה הראויה לאותו זמן? ומו”ר זצ”ל לא הגיב, ורק המשיך ללכת לדרכו.

For another such story, see p. 20 where he records how R. Moshe told a certain Rosh Yeshiva that it was inappropriate for him to refuse to be mesader kidushin just because there would be mixed seating at the wedding. See also p. 22 that R. Moshe refused to write a letter to the judge on behalf of one who was to be sentenced for drug dealing. R. Moshe told the criminal’s father that his son damaged people’s lives and therefore “Let him sit in prison.” On p. 28 he quotes R. Moshe’s positive view of R. Kook. On p. 73 he quotes R. Moshe that a male massage therapist can massage a woman if he does not have a continuing professional relationship with her (!), a man can cut a woman’s hair, and a male teacher or principal can be present when girls in the school sing as the assumption is that he is involved with other things and not paying attention.
What many will regard as a surprising pesak appears on p. 36:
מותר להיות Wine Tester ולטעום סתם יינם, באופן שפולט ואינו בולע
I assume this pesak is based on Rama, Shulhan Arukh, Yoreh Deah 108:5, who is speaking about יין נסך, implying that it is permitted to taste but not swallow סתם יינם. See also Pithei Teshuvah, Yoreh Deah 98:1, for the view that it is permitted to taste, but not swallow, things forbidden by the Sages.
(Regarding tasting without swallowing, see Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 567:1-3. Based on the Rama in 567:3 it would appear that it is permissible to chew gum on a fast day other than Yom Kippur.)
Although I can’t be certain, I find it hard to believe that R. Moshe would require the wine taster to make a blessing on the non-kosher wine. If so, then R. Moshe would presumably agree with those poskim who have ruled that one does not make a blessing on gum and that you can chew it before morning tefillah. See what I wrote here.
See R. Yitzhak Barda, Yitzhak Yeranen, vol. 2, no. 11, and R. Moshe Levi, Birkat ha-Shem, vol. 2, pp. 41ff., vol. 5, pp. 537ff., for complete discussions of the topic. R. Meir Mazuz also holds that one does not make a blessing on gum. See Or Torah, Tamuz 5771, p. 973. The logic of this viewpoint is explained by the Beit Yosef, Orah Hayyim 210:
ולי נראה דברכה לא בטעימת חיך תליא אלא באכילה תליא כדכתיב ואכלת וברכת ואכילה היינו הנאת מעיים כדברי הרא”ש ז”ל
Speaking of gum, I wonder if R. Moshe would agree with R. Yitzhak Abadi that all the standard gums (Wrigleys, Trident, etc.) are kosher. See Or Yitzhak, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 24:
כפי שבררנו החלק הטעים והמתוק שבו אין בו שום שאלה, ומה שנשאר הגומי אח”כ וממשיכים ללועסו אין בו לא טעם ולא ריח, והרי הוא כעץ בעלמא ושרי ללועסו כל היום כולו אף אם עירבו בו מדברים האסורים.
The kashrut organizations assume that gum needs a hashgachah. Here is what R. Zushe Blech has to say on the subject
The need for reliable Hashgacha for gum stems from many ingredient concerns. Plasticizers can be pure lard or tallow and emulsifiers are also often made from animal fats. Flavors and glycerin can also be completely non-Kosher. Even if all of the ingredients in a Kosher gum were acceptable, the equipment on which the product is made requires a Kashering from non-Kosher productions. Although the gum itself is not swallowed, these fats and flavors migrate from the gum into the mouth.
See here. (What does Blech mean by “reliable Hasghacha”? Does it mean that hashgachot that disagree with his understanding are not “reliable”?)
Let’s leave flavors out, as none of the flavors in the major gums are non-kosher. Let’s also leave out the issue of equipment, since this is not a real halakhic concern (as anyone who has ever lived in a place other than Israel and America, and thus has to buy foods without hashgachah, is well aware.) The issue is glycerin, emulsifiers etc. I don’t understand why this should be a problem. Even assuming that it is forbidden to swallow these things as part of a food, why would it be prohibited to simply chew on these tasteless items? Is there any kashrut problem when my son chews on his pigskin baseball glove while waiting patiently for a ball to be hit to him?
Returning to Felder, I give him credit for not being embarrassed to tell us how he once asked R. Moshe the following idiotic question (p. 20):
פעם הלכתי עם מו”ר זצ”ל לניחום אבלים, ולפני שנכנסנו לרכב ביקש ר”מ אחד מישיבת “רבינו יצחק אלחנן”, אם יכול להצטרף לנסיעה כי בית האבלים היה בקרבת מקום לשכונה של הישיבה הנ”ל. ושאלתי את מו”ר זצ”ל האם מותר לנו לקחת את אותו ר”מ לאותה ישיבה? וענה לי “למה לא, הרי נמצאים שם הרבה גדולי ראשי ישיבה שמלמדים תורה”.
Could it be that Felder didn’t know that R. Moshe’s great student, R. Nissan Alpert, taught at YU, or that his son-in-law, R. Moshe Tendler, likewise did? Did he not know that R. Moshe had close relationships with many of the Roshei Yeshiva at YU, and was colleagues with them in Agudas ha-Rabbonim?
While on the subject of teachers at YU, here is a page of a letter, never before published, by R. Yaakov Kamenetsky. It was sent to his son, R. Nosson, whom I thank for giving me permission to publish it. (The notations on the side of the letter are by R. Nosson.) In the letter, R. Yaakov admits that it would have been better for him to teach at YU, since the YU musmachim have a much more significant role in American Orthodoxy than those he was teaching. However, what prevented him from doing so is how this would appear to his sons. They would wonder, if YU was good enough for him to be part of the faculty, why did he think it so important to send his sons to haredi yeshivot?
[21] Kol Hotzev (Jerusalem, 1999), pp. 178-179.
[22] Among my children’s generation, many kids believe that there is a halakhic requirement to have two sinks. Some of these kids have literally never been to a kosher home which doesn’t have this. If they saw such a home, they would probably assume that there must be a heter for one sink, but only for those who can’t afford to redo their kitchens.
[23] R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik wrote of the difficulties R. Hayyim Ozer had, and strongly identified with the latter. See his hesped for R. Hayyim Ozer in Divrei Hagut ve-Ha’arakhah (Jerusalem, 1982), p. 194:
הגאון ר’ חיים עוזר לחם על זה בחרוף נפש. הוא סבל הרבה בעטיה של שיטה זו, סבל יסורי נפש ורוח. בשעה שהרבה מאחינו נכונים היו למסור את החושן לידי זרים ולהסתפק בציץ. עמד הוא בפרץ ומחה נגד זה.
The truth is that R. Soloveitchik is incorrect when he writes עמד הוא בפרץ ומחה נגד זה R. Hayyim Ozer did not protest the slight to his honor, or lead the opposition to Rubenstein. It was the other sages, including the Hafetz Hayyim and the Hazon Ish, who took the reins in this matter. Regarding the Hazon Ish, see Binyamin Brown, Ha-Hazon Ish (Jerusalem, 2011), p. 53.
[24] See Aharon Sorasky, Rabban shel Yisrael (Bnei Brak, 1971), p. 115; Moshe Tzinovitz, Ishim u-Kehilot (Tel Aviv, 1990) p. 240. Rabinowitz was the father-in-law of R. Avigdor Zyperstein, who taught at YU. In Vilna, the center of European Jewish scholarship, an Agudah rav, Grodzinski, and a Mizrachi rav, Eiges, sat on the same beit din and worked closely together. In Europe, every small town had a rav. Sometimes the rav was an adherent of Agudah, and other times a follower of Mizrachi. But as far as the townspeople were concerned, that didn’t matter. He was the rav and if there were halakhic questions in the town he was the one to decide them. If you were an Agudist and the rav was a Mizrachi man, when you had a halakhic question you would go to your rav. The politics of the Jewish world did not interfere when it came to halakhah. Furthermore, the various Agudat Rabbanim in Europe (and also in the U.S.) welcomed all rabbis, regardless of where one stood in the Agudah-Mizrachi dispute. In the post-World War II world, however, the haredi world has entirely changed all this and rewrote the rules. They were able to convince their followers that unless a rav follows the haredi Daas Torah he is not a reliable rav, and therefore he should not be consulted on halakhic matters. In other words, the halakhic competence of a rav was made dependant on his political outlook. This is a complete break with Jewish tradition, as it existed in Europe. While some might regard this development as simply another example of haredi “shtick”, I think it is more significant as it illustrates once again that haredi Judaism can be just as modern and revolutionary as that which it sees itself as fighting against.
[25] See Zvi Weinman, Mi-Katovitz ad Heh be-Iyar (Jerusalem, 1995), pp. 52ff.
[26] E. Horowitz, Orhot Rabbenu (Bnei Brak, 2005), vol. 5, p. 169
[27] See Brown, Ha-Hazon Ish, pp. 55-56.
[28] One well-known haredi rav wrote to me as follows:
I just read your post . . . regarding the abolishment of animal sacrifices. Barukh sheKivanti l’Da’ato shel Harav Kuk when I once told my students at . . . (and advised them to keep it under wraps) that perhaps a future Sanhedrin will find a drash to do that. But I had a caveat in that our present moral sensitivities were formed during the Exile in which we were enslaved to general, non-Jewish thinking. Therefore, after the Messiah arrives and we are able to think independently, and until we are on own long enough to form our own, Jewish ideas, all we will be able to do is continue from where we left off at the Destruction of Ba’yit Sheni. Only after some time has passed may the Sanhedrin decide that animal sacrifices ought to be abolished. This approach explains why the Rambam sets down Hilkhot Korbanot though he may have been prepared to abolish them had he been sitting on the Sanhedrin. It’s for that interim time — between the arrival of Mashiah and whenever the Sanhedrin makes its Judaism-inspired [changes].
He then added the following critical note:
Within the blog you used a term which ruffled my sensibilities: “Messianic Judaism.” Simply because that term has been usurped and corrupted by Christians who call themselves “Messianic Jews,” you should have written “Messianic-Era Judaism”.
[29] R. Isaac Hutner is quoted saying something very similar to that of R. Kook.. See R. Yitzhak Alster, Olat Yitzhak (Jerusalem, 2003), vol. 1, p. 188 (referred to by Bezalel Naor, The Limit of Intellectual Freedom [Spring Valley, 2011]):
שאין דנים הכופר עפ”י מחשבתו ודבורו לחוד עד שעושה מעשה מומרות. וכך היה לשונו: איך וואלט ניט געפסקנט אויף אימיצר אז אעהר איז אן אפיקורס סיידן איך וואלט געזעהן א ריעותא אין זיין מצוות מעשיות, כאיטש אפילו אפיקורסוס איז נישט תלוי אין מעשים, אבער מעלע וואס א מענטש רעדט – ער גלויבט אליין נישט וואס ער רעדט



On the Plagiarism of a Tach-ve-Tat Chronicle

On the Plagiarism of a Tach-ve-Tat Chronicle

During this period, between the 17th of Tamuz and the 9th of Av, there is an increased focus upon various historical calamities that befell the Jewish people. Jewish history is unfortunately replete with such examples. Some instances have spawned specific days of commemoration while others have produced whole bodies of literature. And, while the literature surrounding these events is diverse, covering liturgy, poetry, history, we focus on one type: the chronicle. Additionally, our focus is the Chmielnicki Massacres, or Gezerot Tach ve-Tat. The Hebrew refers to the dates – 1648-49 – when the majority of Jew-killing took place. While these events took place hundreds of years ago, its effects including the total number of Jews killed is still being debated by scholars. (See Jits van Straten, “Did Shmu’el Ben Nathan and Nathan Hanover Exaggerate: Estimates of Jewish Casualties in the Ukraine During the Cossack Revolt in 1648,” Zutot 6:1 (2009), 75-82, calling into question the lower estimates of Shaul Stampfer, “What Actually Happened to the Jews of Ukraine in 1648?” Jewish History 17:2 (May 2003), 207-27.)
The most well-known chronicle describing the events is that of R. Nathan of Hanover, Yaven Metzulah. There is an English translation of Hanover’s work, Abyss of Despair, translated by R. Abraham J. Mesch. The translation includes a “traditional drawing of Maharsha.”
While it is not noted, this illustration, that has Maharsha with long flowing hair first appears in the Vienna, 1814 edition of the Maharsha’s commentary (vol. I, vol. II). While Mesch indicates this is the “traditional drawing” we know of no earlier instance than the Vienna edition. This was not the only Vienna edition that includes a questionable portrait. The 1804 Vienna edition of R. Yitzhak Alfasi’s Halakhot also includes a portrait that is claimed to be R. Alfasi. Again, we know of no earlier evidence that would confirm such a rendering.
A collection of these chronicles was published most recently Gezerat Tach ve-Tat, Jerusalem, 2004. Additionally, Joel Raba, Between Remembrance and Denial, Columbia Univ. Press, 1995, discusses these chronicles as does the collection of articles that appears in the journal, Jewish History 17:2 (May, 2003).
We turn our attention, however, to a lesser known work from this period, Tzok ha-Itim. Tzok was actually the first chronicle regarding the 1648-49 events published. It was first published in Krakow, 1650 (link). Indeed, some have argued that Hanover relied heavily on Tzok in compiling Yaven Metzulah (first published in 1653).
Tzok was republished in Constantinople in 1652. This edition is exceedingly rare. According to Ya’ari, there is but one complete copy extant. (See Ya’ari, Kiryat Sefer, (16) 1939-40). This edition was published by R. Shmuel ben R. Shimson who on his way to Israel after fleeing the massacres. At the end of the book he includes a dirge (kinnah) about the events. He also penned his own introduction which describes his own suffering. He says that “I am the only remaining survivor in my family as the rest were killed sanctifying god’s name . . . although I was spared . . . my wife and children I buried, I lost all of my possessions . . . .” He explains that “all I wanted was to dwell in the bet midrash and therefore I decided to travel to Jerusalem” and that while he was on his journey he came across Tzok and decided to reprint it in Constantinople “so that what has occurred shall not be forgotten.” (Ya’ari, Mechkerei Sefer, Jerusalem, 1958 p. 16 reprints the entire introduction, he also provides other accounts of people, who, on their way to Israel, issued works related to 1648-49 massacres.)
Tzok was then reissued in Venice in 1656.
The first two editions list R. Meir ben Shmuel of Szczebrzeszyn as the author. The 1656 edition, however, lists a completely different author, R. Joshua ben David of Lemberg. It is not only on the title page that a different author is listed. The work itself is not composed as traditional narrative. Instead, it is written in verse. The first verses in all the editions spell out the author’s name in an acrostic. Thus, the 1650 and 1652 editions have an acrostic that spells out R. Meir of Szczebrzeszyn’s name while the 1656 edition acrostic spells out R. Joshua’s name. In some instances words are added to create the “new” acrostic, while in other instances, the highlighted letters are changed.
Here is the introduction to the Constantinople edition:
And here is the introduction to the Venice edition:
As an aside it is worth noting that this is not the only time a plagiarizer has been forced to change the acrostic to hide his stolen goods. (See Kitvei Pinchas Turburg, ed. A. R. Malachi, 24-36 for additional examples of acrostic changes, and see this earlier post discussing similar changes to hide the identity of the true author, and see this post where the plagiarizer was caught in the act and forced to admit his guilt and apologize). Additionally, at least in one instance the acrostic was able to demonstrate authorship. In the Siddur Bet Ya’akov (although attributed to R. Y. Emden, this siddur contains numerous additions as compared to R. Emden’s actual siddur called Ammudei ShamayimSha’arei Shamayim; this is one of them) the Belzer Rebbe asserts that the author of the zemer Yom Shabbat Kodesh Hu had his song stolen. He came across the plagiarizer and challenged him to prove authorship. Specifically, the real author showed that his name, Yonatan, could be seen in the acrostic, and with this he vanquished the thief. R. Emden uses this story to explain the meaning behind the final verse which loosely translated as “all the talk [about authorship] should [now] end now that I have enlarged the song [and demonstrated my authorship] . . . and that no one should ever steal from me as this song is my property.”
An example where the acrostic actually has the opposite effect, obscuring the original author is also a zemer, Yom Zeh le-Yisrael. At times, this song can be confusing depending upon which bencher one is using. This so, because some version have a shorter version while others have a longer ( see here for example). Some argue that the two versions are indicative of two authors, one, the original author which only spelled out Yitzhak (and then lamed vav) to which all the other verses were added, now spelling Yitzhak Luria Hazak. (Regarding this zemer see Naftali ben Menachem, Zemirot shel Shabbat, Israel, 1949, 144-45; I. Davidson, Thesaurus of Mediaeval Hebrew Poetry, Ktav, 1970, vol. II, 348.)
Returning to Tzok, because the acrostic lends support for either author, some didn’t know who the “real” author was. In the 1890s, a number of these chronicles regarding bad events in Jewish history were collected and published under the title Le-Korot ha-Gezerot ‘al Yisrael by C. Gorlin. Included is Tzok. But, instead of a traditional introduction, he prefaces Tzok with a section “Who is the real author?” Gorlin argues that the real author is indeed R. Meir and not R. Joshua. This is not the first time that there is some confusion regarding who is the real author and who is the thief, for another example see here and for another example of modern day plagiarism see here.
With regard to the Constantinople edition, Ya’ari demonstrates that this edition is better than the first, in that many of the typos and the like have been corrected. Unfortunately, perhaps due to its rarity, the 2004 edition of Tzok relies upon the 1650 edition and not the better 1652. Additionally, the 1652 edition is one of the works published by a convert. Of course, this is probably what first got Ya’ari interested as he provides a bibliography of works published by converts.
It should be noted that Tzok was rather popular even if it is no longer. When R. David ha-Levi Segal, author of the commentary on Shulhan Orakh, Turei Zehav, sent a delegation to the false messiah, Shabbatai Tzvi, when the delegation entered, they record that Shabbatai Tzvi had a copy of Tzok on the table. (See G. Scholem, Sabbati Sevi, Princeton Univ. Press, 1976, p. 623 quoting Leib Ozer, Sippurei Ma’ashi Sabbati Tzvi, p. 81 and Sefer Tziz Nobel Tzvi, ed. I. Tishby, pp. 77-79.)
Finally, we note that the most recent edition, the 2004 op. cit., uses the Krakow first edition, even though Ya’ari has already shown that the rare Constantinople edition corrected numerous errors that appear in the Krakow edition.



Attribution and Misattribution: On Computational Linguistics, Heresy and Journalism

Attribution and Misattribution: On Computational Linguistics, Heresy and Journalism
by Moshe Koppel

Prof. Moshe Koppel is on the faculty of the Computer Science Department at Bar-Ilan University. He has published extensively on authorship attribution, as well as on a diverse array of topics of Jewish and scientific interest.

A few days ago, newspaper readers from New Jersey to New Zealand read about new computer software that “sheds light on the authorship of the Bible”[1]. By the time the news circled back to Israel, farteitcht and farbessert, readers of Haaretz were (rather gleefully) informed that the head of the project had announced that it had been proved that the Torah was written by multiple human authors[2], just as the Bible critics had been saying all along.
I’m always skeptical about that kind of grandiose claim and this is no exception, even though the person who allegedly made the claim in this particular case happens to be me. The news reports in question refer to a recently published paper[3] in computational linguistics involving decomposition of a document into authorial components. A brief reference to application of the method to the Torah (Pentateuch) is responsible for most of the noise.
In what follows, I’ll briefly provide some background about authorship attribution research, sketch the method used in the paper, outline the main results and say a few words about what they mean. My main purpose is to explain what has actually been proved and, more crucially in this case, what has not been proved.
Authorship Attribution
One of my areas of research for over a decade has been authorship attribution, the use of automated statistical methods to identify or profile the author of a given text. For example, we can determine, with varying degrees of accuracy, the age, gender and native language of the author of a text[4]. Under certain conditions, we can determine, with varying degrees of certainty, if two texts were written by the same person[5]. Some of this work has been applied to topics of particular interest to students of Jewish texts, such as strong evidence that the collection of responsa Torah Lishmah was written by Ben Ish Chai[6] (although he often quoted the work as if it were written by someone else) and that all of the letters in Genizat Harson are forgeries[7].
Whenever I have lectured on this topic, the first question has been: have you ever analyzed the Bible? The honest truth is that I never really understood the question and I suspect that in most cases the questioner didn’t have any very well-formed question in mind, beyond the vague thought that the Bible is of mysterious provenance and ought to be amenable to some sort of statistical analysis. I would always mumble something about the question being poorly defined, Bible books being too short to permit reliable statistical analysis, etc. But, while all those excuses were quite true, I also had a vague thought of my own, which was that whatever well-formed research question I could come up with regarding Tanach, it would probably land me in hot water.
One research question that I have been working on with my graduate student, Navot Akiva, involves decomposition of a document into distinct stylistic components. For example, if a document was written by multiple authors, each of whom presumably writes in some distinct style, we’d like to be able to identify the parts written by each author. (Bear in mind this is what is known in the jargon as an unsupervised problem: we don’t get known examples of each author’s writing to analyze. All we have is the composite text itself, from which we need to tease apart distinctive looking chunks of text.) The object is straightforward: given a text, split it up into families of chunks in the best possible way, where by “best” we mean that the chunks that are assigned to the same family are as similar to each other as possible.
Even I could see that this could have some bearing on Tanach. So when Prof. Nachum Dershowitz, a colleague with whom I share a number of research interests, introduced me to his son, Idan, a graduate student in the Tanach program at Hebrew University, we agreed to consider how to apply this work to Tanach (sort of fudging the question of whether this meant Torah or Nach). It happens that, apart from being the most studied and revered set of books ever written, Tanach offers another advantage as an object of linguistic analysis: precisely because it has been the subject of so much study, there are many available automated tools that we could exploit in our research.

The Method
Here’s how our computerized method works. Divide a text into chunks in some reasonable way. These chunks might be chapters or some fixed number of sentences or whatever; the details aren’t critical and need not concern us at this stage. I’m going to call these chunks “chapters” (only because it is a less technical sounding word), but bear in mind that we are not assuming that a chapter is stylistically homogeneous; that is, the split between authors might take place in the middle of a chapter.
Our object is to split our collection of chapters into families of stylistically similar chapters. (The chapters in a family need not be contiguous.) All the chapters that look a certain way, please step to the left; all others, please step to the right.
As a first step, for any pair of chapters, we’re going to have to measure the similarity between them. The trick is to measure this similarity in a way that captures style rather than content.
The way we do it is as follows: we begin by generating a list of synonym sets. For example, for the case of Tanach, we would consider synonym sets such as betoch, bekerev; begged, simla; sar, nasi; makel, mateh, shevet; and so on. There are about 200 such sets of Biblical synonyms. We generate this list automatically by identifying Hebrew roots that are translated by the same English root in the KJV. Note that not every occurrence of, for example, shevet (which can mean either “staff” or “tribe”) is a synonym for makel (which is always “staff”). We use online concordances to disambiguate, that is, to determine the intended sense of a word in a particular context. (In this respect, Tanach is especially convenient to work with.)
For every chapter and every such set of synonyms, we record which synonym (if any) that chapter uses. The similarity of a pair of chapters reflects the extent to which they make similar choices from among synonym sets. The idea is that if one chapter uses – for example – betoch, sar and mateh and the other uses bekerev, nasi and makel, the two chapters have low similarity. If a chapter doesn’t use any of the synonyms in a particular synonym set, that set plays no role in measuring the similarity between that chapter and any other chapter.
Once we know the similarity between every pair of chapters, we use formal methods to create optimal families. Ideally, we want all the chapters in the same family to be very similar to each other and to be very different from the chapters in other families. In fact, such clean divisions are unusual, but the formal methods will generally find a near-optimal clustering into families. (What we call families are called “clusters” in the jargon, and the process of finding them is called “clustering”. The particular clustering method we used is a spectral approximation method called n-cut.)
A key question you should ask at this point is: how many families will we get? You might imagine that the clustering method will somehow figure out the right number of families. Indeed, there are clustering methods that can do that. But – note this carefully – the number of families we obtain is not determined by the clustering method we use. Rather it is given by us as an input. That is, we decide in advance how many families we want to get and the method is forced to give us exactly what we asked for. This is a crucial point and we’ll come back to it when we get to the meaning of all these results below.
In any case, at this stage, we have a tentative division of chapters into however many families we asked for. (For simplicity, let’s assume that we have split the chapters into exactly two families.) This is not the final result, for the simple reason that we have no guarantee that the chapters themselves are homogeneous. The next step is to identify those chapters that are at the core of each family; these are the chapters we are most confident we have assigned correctly and are consequently the ones most likely to be homogeneous. (Note that when I say “we are confident” I don’t mean anything subjective and wishy-washy; all this is done automatically according to formal criteria a bit too technical to get into here.)
Now that we have a selection of chapters that are assigned to respective families with high confidence, we use them as seeds for building a “model” that distinguishes between the two families. Very roughly speaking, we look for common words (ones not tied to any specific topic) that appear more in one family than in the other and we use formal methods (for those interested, we use SVM) to find just the right weight to give to each such word as an indicator of one family or the other. We now use this model to classify individual sentences as being in one family or the other.

Results
Wonderful, so we did all sorts of geeky hocus-pocus. Why should you believe that this works? Maybe the whole synonym idea is wrong because we ignore subtle differences in meaning between “synonyms”. Maybe the same author deliberately switches from one synonym to the other for literary reasons. Maybe we are biased because we believe something wicked and we subtly manipulated the method to obtain particular results.
These are legitimate concerns. That’s why we test the method on data for which we know the right answer to see if the method gives that right answer. In this case, our test works as follows. We take two books, each of which we can assume is written by a single distinct author, mix them up in some random fashion, and check if our method correctly unmixes them. In particular, we took as our main test set random mishmashes of Yirmiyahu and Yechezkel.
We found that the method works extremely well. About 17% of the psukim could not be classified (no differentiating words appeared in these psukim or their near neighbors). Of the approximately 2200 psukim that were classified into two families, all the Yirmiyahu psukim went into one family and all the Yechezkel psukim went into the other, with a total of 26 (1.2%) exceptions. We obtained similar results on a variety of other book pairs.
So maybe we should have left well enough alone. But with a power tool like this in hand, how could you not want to see how it would split the chumash? Shoot me, but for me, like Rav Kahana hiding under his rebbe’s bed, Torah hee velilmod any tzarich. We did the experiment. I should hasten to mention, though, that the chumash experiment is only briefly mentioned in the published paper, which focuses on proving the efficacy of the method (it’s a computational linguistics paper, not a Bible paper).
Now, I should point out that until I got involved in this, I was a complete am haaretz in Bible Criticism, a perfectly agreeable state of affairs, as far as I was concerned. However, Idan Dershowitz immediately observed that our split was very similar to the split between what critics refer to as the Priestly (P) and non-Priestly portions of the Torah. Bear in mind that there are ongoing disagreements among the critics about precisely which psukim should be regarded as P and which not. We took two standard such splits, that of Driver and that of Friedman, and refer to the set of psukim for which they agree as “consensus” psukim. (They agree just over 90% of the time.)
Here’s the result. Our split of the Torah into two families corresponds with their split for about 90% of all consensus psukim.
Let me say a few words about the main areas of disagreement. To a significant extent, our split runs along lines of genre. One family is mostly – not completely – legal material and the other is mostly narrative. Since what the critics call the Priestly sections include pretty much all of Vayikra (which is mostly laws), as well as selected portions of Bereishis, Shemos and Bemidbar, their split also corresponds somewhat to the legal/narrative split. Most of the cases where our split is different than theirs involve narrative sections that they assign to P and our method assigns to the family that corresponds to non-P, for example, the first chapter of Bereishis. (The rest of the disagreements involve P sections that scholars now refer to as H and consider some sort of quasi-P, but I don’t want to get into all that, mostly because I’m still pretty clueless about it.)
Before you dismiss all this by saying that all we did was discover that stories don’t look like laws, let me point out there are plenty of narrative sections that the computerized analysis assigned to the P family (or, more precisely, to the nameless family that turns out to be very similar to what the critics call the P family). Two prominent examples are the story of Shimon and Levi in Shechem and the story of Pinchas and Zimri.
One more point: when we split the Torah into three or more families, our results do not coincide with those of the critics. In the case of three families, Devarim does seem to split off as its own family, as the critics claim, but there are a fair number of exceptions. And even with four or more families, no hint of the critics’ E/J split shows up at all.

Interpreting the Results
So does all this mean that we have proved that the Torah was written by at least two human authors, as the breathless reports claim? No.
First of all, as I noted above, our method does not determine the optimal number of families. That is, it does not make a claim regarding the number of authors. Rather, you decide in advance how many families you want and the method finds the optimal (or a near-optimal) split of the text into that number. If you ask it to split Moby Dick into two (or four or thirteen) parts, it will do so. Thus the fact that we split the Torah into two tells us exactly nothing about the actual number of authors.
Having said that, I want to temper any religious enthusiasm such a disclaimer might engender. First of all, with a few improvements to the method we could probably identify some optimal number of families for a given text. We simply haven’t done so. Second, the fact that – for the case of two families – the results of our method coincide (to some extent) with those of the critics would seem to suggest that the split the method suggests is not merely coincidental.
But, the deeper reason that our work is irrelevant to the question of divine authorship is simply that it does not – indeed, it could not – have a thing to say on that question. If you were to have some theory about what properties divine writing ought to have and close analysis revealed that a certain text probably did not have those properties, then you might have to change your prior belief about the divine provenance of that text. But does anyone really have some theory about what divine texts are supposed to look like? Several press reports about this work referenced the idea that “God could write in multiple voices”. I find that formulation a bit simplistic, but it captures the fact that any attempt to map from multiple writing styles to multiple authorship must be rooted in assumptions about human cognition and human performance that are simply not relevant to the question of divine action[8].
In short, our results seem to support some findings of higher Bible criticism regarding possible boundaries between distinct stylistic threads in the Torah. These results might have some relevance regarding literary analysis of the Torah. Taken on their own, however, they are not proof of multiple authorship. Furthermore, there is nothing in these results that should cause those of us committed to the traditional belief in divine authorship of the Torah to doubt that belief.
[3] M. Koppel, N. Akiva, I. Dershowitz and N. Dershowitz, (2011). Unsupervised Decomposition of a Document Into Authorial Components, Proceedings of ACL, pp. 1356-1364.
[4] S. Argamon, M. Koppel, J. Pennebaker and J. Schler (2009), Automatically Profiling the Author of an Anonymous Text, Communications of the ACM, 52 (2): pp. 119-123 (virtual extension).
[5] M. Koppel, J. Schler and E. Bonchek-Dokow (2007), Measuring Differentiability: Unmasking Pseudonymous Authors, JMLR 8, July 2007, pp. 1261-1276.
[6] M. Koppel, D. Mughaz and N. Akiva (2006), New Methods for Attribution of Rabbinic Literature , Hebrew Linguistics: A Journal for Hebrew Descriptive, Computational and Applied Linguistics, 57, pp. 5-18.
[7] מ. קופל, זיהוי מחברים בשיטות ממוחשבות: “גניזת חרסון”, ישורון כג (אלול ה’תש”ע), תקנט-תקסו.
[8] I realize that this argument comes close to asserting that the claim of divine authorship is unfalsifiable, which for some might cast doubt on the meaningfulness of that claim. A proper response to that concern would involve a discussion of the nature and content of religious belief, a discussion that is well beyond the scope of this brief peroration.



A Printing Mistake and the Mysterious Origins of Rashbi’s Yahrzeit*

A Printing Mistake and the Mysterious Origins of Rashbi’s Yahrzeit*
by Eliezer Brodt
In this post I would like to deal with tracing the early sources for the great celebrations that take place worldwide on Lag Ba-Omer, specifically at the Kever of Rashbi (R. Shimon b. Yochai) in Meron.[1] A few years back on the Seforim Blog I dealt with some of these issues (link). More recently in Ami Magazine (# 22) I returned to some of the topics. This post contains new information and corrections that I have found which were not included in those earlier articles.
The period of Sefirat ha-Omer is traditionally considered a time of great mourning. The most well-known reason given for the mourning – offered by the Geonim and Rishonim – is due to the death of twenty-four thousand students of R. Akiva who, according to the Gemara in Yevamot 62b, died during this time of the year for not having accorded respect to each other. Because this is deemed a mourning period, we refrain from shaving, taking haircuts, dancing, listening to music, and making weddings.[2] Sefer Ha- Tadir[3] writes:
ומנהג בין פסח לעצרת לומר מסכת אבות בכל שבת ושבת קודם המנחה משום מעשה תלמידי ר”ע… י”ב אלפים זוגות תלמידים היו לו לר”ע… שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה… (ספר התדיר, עמ’ רכב).
However, the prohibitions associated with sefirah are suspended on Lag Ba-Omer, and many early sources offer reasons for additional levels of simcha on Lag Ba-Omer, which includes omitting tachnun on that day. Additionally, there is a custom to celebrate Lag Ba-Omer at the kever of Rashbi in Meron, amidst great celebration, complete with music, dancing, and bonfires. The remainder of this post at the Seforim Blog will offer some reasons for this practice.
R. Yehoshuah Ibn Shu’eib, a student of the Rashba and a great Mekubal, was unsure of the reason for the custom in his day of taking a break from mourning on Lag Ba-Omer, until he heard some say that it is because the students of R. Akiva stopped dying on that day.[4] He writes:
ולכן נהגו לגדל שפם עד עצרת, ואין כונסין נשים בזה הפרק, ואף על פי שיש טעם אחר במדרש על אותן שנים עשר אלף זוגות תלמידי דר’ עקיבא שמתו מן הפסח עד העצרת. ומה שנהגו רוב העם להגדיל שפם עד ל”ג לעומר לא מצינו בו ענין, ובתוספות פי’ כי מה שאמר ל”ג אינו כמו שנוהגין, אלא ל”ג יום כשתסיר שבעת ימי הפסח ושבעה שבתות ושני ימי ראש חדש שהן ששה עשר יום שאין אבלות נוהג בהם, נשארו מן הארבעים ותשעה ימים ל”ג, וזהו מאמרם ל”ג יום לעומר. שמעתי שיש במדרש עד פרס העצרת והוא חמשה עשר יום העצרת באמרם פרס הפסח פרס החג שהם חמשה עשר יום בניסן ובתשרי, וכשתסיר חמשה עשר יום מארבעים ותשעה יום נשארו שלשים וארבעה, והנה הם שלשים ושלשה שלימים ומגלחין ביום שלשים וארבעה בבקר כי מקצת היום ככולו. (דרשה לפסח יום ראשון)
Some other Rishonim, including the Manhig and Meiri, also give this reason, while others say that the students only stopped dying on the thirty-fourth day of the Omer, the day after Lag Ba-Omer. Thus, according to them, there would be no reason for festive celebrations on Lag Ba-Omer.[5] See, for example, the Tashbetz who writes:
וכן אירע לר’ עקיבא שהעמיד ארבעה ועשרים אלף תלמידים וכולם מתו מן הפסח ועד פרס העצרת אחר עבור ל”ג לעומר, כי פרס הוא חצי חדש שהם חמשה עשר ימים, כמו שנזכר בפרק מעשר בהמה בבכורות [נח א]. וכן בתוספתא [שקלים פ”ב מ”א] אמרו, איזהו פרס, אין פחות מט”ו. וט”ו ימים קודם עצרת, הוא יום ל”ד לעומר. ולזה נהגו להתאבל באותם ימים שהם מהפסח עד ל”ג לעומר ולא נהגו איסור ביום ל”ד לפי שמקצת היום ככולו. וכולם מתו מפני שהיתה עינם צרה זה לזה (מגן אבות, אבות, א:א).
If one looks in the Tur, the Shulhan Arukh as well as the various early commentaries, one will not find any other reason as to why there should be simcha on Lag Ba-Omer, other than that the students of R. Akiva stopped dying on Lag Ba-Omer. Be that as it may, this particular reason offers no insight into the connection between Meron, and more specifically Rashbi, and Lag Ba-Omer.
The most well known explanation to the connection between Rashbi and Lag Ba-Omer is that Rashbi died on that day, and he was one of the students of R. Akiva. Assuming for a moment that this is factually correct, it is quite strange that we celebrate Rashbi’s death. We don’t celebrate the yarzheit of Avraham Avinu, Moshe Rabbeinu, David HaMelech, or any other great people with bonfires. Rather, halakha states the opposite – to fast on a yahrzeit, especially on those days that great people died. This problem is addressed by the Sho’el u-Meshiv (5:39) and because of this question and others, he was very skeptical of the celebration that takes place at Meron. R. Aryeh Balhuver, in his Shem Aryeh (no. 13), points out that because of the celebration that takes place at Meron for Rashbi, people began to be lenient about fasting on the yarzheit of their parents.
Another problem is that neither Chazal nor any of the Rishonim mention Rashbi dying on Lag Ba-Omer; and as a general rule we do not make any form of a Yom Tov on a day that is not mentioned in Chazal. This issue was addressed by the Chatam Sofer in his teshuvot (Y.D. 233) and because of this, he too was very skeptical of the way Lag Ba-Omer is celebrated.
So what is the source that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer? R. Yehosef Schwartz writes in his Tevuot Ha-Aretz (p.224) that he searched all over for the reason for the great simcha at Meron on Lag Ba-Omer, and concluded that it must be because Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer. R. Jonathan Eybeschutz, the Ba’al ha-Tanyah, Reb Zadok ha-Kohen, and the Arukha ha-Shulhan also say that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer.
The Shem Aryeh (no. 14) writes that when we celebrate the yahrzeit of Rashbi, we are celebrating that he died a natural death, at the proper time and place, and not at the hands of the Romans, who did not bury the people they killed. The Gemara in Shabbat 33b–34a relates that the Romans wanted to kill Rashbi, and he ran away and hid in a cave for many years until the Romans stopped hunting him.
What appears to be an earlier source for some who say that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer is R. Hayyim Vital, quoting in the name of the Arizal, found in the Peri Etz Chaim. Indeed, R. Hayyim Vital states that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer, and he was one of the students of R. Akiva who died during Sefirah. In truth, it is a mistake to give R. Vital credit for this. The source of this mistake was based on a simple printing mistake in two edition of the Peri Etz Chaim. One was printed in Koretz 1785 (p. 108a).
The other was printed in Dubrowno 1802 (p. 124b).

In the first printed edition of the Peri Etz Chaim, which was printed in 1782 (p. 101a), it does not say that at all. Instead of saying “she-meit” (that he died) it has a very similar, but entirely different word, samach (was joyous). The letter chet was apparently confused for a tav in the later version, causing the whole mistake![6] (Interestingly, the Aderes in his work Zecher Davar has a whole collection of cases where a problem arose due only to a קוצו שלו יוד.)
In the Shaar ha-Kavanot from R. Vital first printed in 1752, where the same piece appears, it also reads samach (p. 127) like the first edition of Peri Etz Chaim. In a later edition of of Peri Etz Chaim printed in 1819 it also reads samach. These would seem to confirm that the error is indeed she-met rather than samach.
The late Meir Benayahu z”l and, more recently, R. Yaakov Hillel, confirmed, based on many early manuscripts that this reading that does not have Rashbi dying on Lag be-Omer, is the correct reading from the writings of R. Chaim Vital. Recently, R. Yaakov Hillel printed the Sefer Shaar Ha-Tefilah from a manuscript of R. Hayyim Vital’s actual handwriting, and in that location (p. 312), as well, the passage states that it was the day of Simchat Rashbi, not the day he died.[7]
Interestingly, the Chida in his work Birkhei Yosef, printed in 1774, writes that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer. But in a later work of his, Ma’aret Ayin, printed in 1805, he writes that the Prei Etz Chaim is full of mistakes and this statement regarding Lag Ba-Omer and Rashbi’s death day is one of them. So the Chida’s conclusion is that it is not a reference to Rashbi’s day of death at all. This conclusion is accepted by later authorities, including Takfo Shel Nes (p. 59a), Shu”t Rav u-Po’alim (1:11), and Tziyun LeNefesh Chayah (no. 65).[8]
The Lubavitcher Rebbe[9] wrote in a letter to R. Zevin that there is a printing mistake in the Peri Etz Chaim.

הרה”ג הוו”ח אי”א נו”מ וכו’ מהורשי”ז שי’
שלום וברכה!
במקרה ראיתי, בספרית כ”ק מו”ח אדמו”ר שליט”א, את ספרו “המועדים בהלכה” מהד”ת, ומצאתי שם בפרק ל”ג בעומר העתקת לשון הפרע”ח (דפוס דובראוונע ודפוס לאשצוב) שער ספה”ע פ”ז בהערה, וז”ל: והטעם שמת רשב”י ביום ל”ג בעומר כי הוא מתלמידי רע”ק שמתו בספה”ע.
והנה ידוע, אשר קטע זה מוקשה הוא הן בנגלה, כי רשב”י הוא מהחמשה תלמידים שסמך רע”ק אח”כ, הן מצד הנסתר ע”פ המבואר, בפע”ח שם ובסידור האריז”ל, מדריגת הכ”ד אלף תלמידים שמתו ומדריגת ה’ תלמידים הנ”ל. וכבר עמד ע”ז בשו”ת דברי נחמי’ חאו”ח סל”ד סק”ז. וסיים: ואולי יש ט”ס בפע”ח שם במ”ש כי הוא כו’ כנ”ל וצ”ע בדפוס קארעץ ששמעתי ששם נשמט זה.
ואמת כן הוא, אשר בפע”ח דפוס קארעץ לא נמצא קטע הנ”ל. וכן בסידורי האריז”ל ובשני פע”ח כת”י, שישנם באוסף הכת”י אשר לכ”ק מו”ח אדמו”ר שליט”א, חסר כל ענין זה. כן לא מצאתי לביאור הנ”ל בכל דרושי דא”ח שראיתי לע”ע.
וז”ל ספר הכוונות (ענין ספה”ע דרוש יב) בטעמי מנהגי ל”ג בעומר: כי הרשב”י ע”ה הוא מחמשה תלמידיו הגדולים של רע”ק ולכן זמן שמחתו ביום ל”ג בעומר. ועד”ז הוא במשנת חסידים.

– ובעהמ”ס ד”נ כנראה לא ראה את סה”כ, מדאינו מביאו – ומכמה טעמים מהנכון, לפענ”ד, לתקן את הנ”ל בספרו, או עכ”פ להעיר על הספקות שבדבר, בהזדמנות הראשונה. ..

The question then is, what is the earliest printed source that Rashbi died on Lag Ba-Omer. Avraham Yaari and Meir Benayahu demonstrate that the earliest source to mention Lag Ba-Omer as the yarzheit of Rashbi is none other than the Chemdat Yamim. R. Yaakov Hillel also confirms this in his Aid ha-Gal ha-Zeh (p. 13).
The Chemdat Yamim was first printed in the 1730s and has been the source of controversy and debate until today. Some go out of their way to attack it, claiming it has strong ties to Shabbetai Tzvi. Others strongly defend it, saying it is a very special work. Whatever the case is, Chemdat Yamim has been established by many as the source of many different customs that we observe today. It is not necessarily the earliest source, but in the first few years after it first appeared, Chemdat Yamim was printed many times, becoming a bestseller as it were. Because of this, many customs contained therein became widespread. One notable example is the celebration of Tu Be-shevat. After the Chemdat Yamim was printed, many works about the customs of Tu Be-shevat were printed based on it. What is very interesting is that Chasidim, who are principally against the Chemdat Yamim, are very into this concept that Lag Ba-Omer is the yarzheit of Rashbi.[10]

If one looks at all early mentions of Lag Ba-Omer and the Arizal one will not see any mention of it being the yarzheit of Rashbi. Here are some examples:
The Magen Avraham, first printed in 1692, writes when talking about days when we do not say Tachanun writes:
מעשה באחד שנהג כל ימיו לומר נחם בבונה ירושלים ואמרו בל”ג בעומר ונענש על זה מפני שהוא י”ט [כונת האר”י] (מגן אברהם סי’ קלא ס”ק יז)
When talking about Lag Ba-Ome , the Magen Avraham writes:
ומרבים בו קצת שמחה – וכתו’ בכוונות שגדול אחד היה רגיל לומר נחם בכל יום ואמרו גם בל”ג ונענש (מגן אברהם סי’ תצג ג)
We see that he makes no mention of it being the yarzheit of Rashbi when he referencing to the Arizal and Lag Ba-Omer. It is generally accepted that the Magen Avraham is responsible for bringing the writings of the Arizal into the world of halakhic discourse. The question, however, is regarding the Magen Avraham’s source for this specific Arizal. In general R. Yosef Avivi shows that the Magen Avraham when quoting from the Arizal was using the work Shulhan Arukh Shel Arizal.[11] There are many works similar to this work, one was called Nagid U-metzaveh; another was called Lechem Min Hashamayim. In both of these works, the whole story with the Arizal and Nachem appears with the version that this was the day of Simchat Rashbi, and not the day he died.
Now in this work, the story as quoted above appears and no mention of it being the yahrzeit of Rashbi, but rather that it was the day of Simchat Rashbi. However we cannot say, for certain, that his source was the Shulhan Arukh Shel Arizal because he specifically quotes the Sefer Hakavanot as his source. Now the problem with this is, which Sefer Hakavanot was the Magen Avraham referring to? The only edition printed before the Magen Avraham was from R. Moshe Terniki printed in Venice in 1620. In that edition of Sefer Hakavanot, there is nothing about Lag Ba-Omer. In a personal communication, R. Yosef Avivi suggested to me that it was the Sefer Hakavanot that was written in Cracow in 1650 and the Magen Avraham had it in manuscript. This edition of Sefer Hakavanot was later printed under the name Peri Etz Chaim in 1785.[12]
Another example of an early source who quotes the Arizal about Lag Ba-Omer but makes no mention of it being his yahrzeit can be found in the Ateret Zekenim from R. Menachem Auerbach, first printed on the side of the Shulhan Arukh in 1702 (it was written much earlier). He also cites the story of the Arizal:
מנהג ארץ ישראל שנוהגין לילך על קברי רשב”י ז”ל ור”א בנו ביום ל”ג בעומר והעיד ר”א הלוי שהוא היה נוהג תמיד לומר נחם בברכת תשכון וכשסיים התפלה א”ל ר”י לוריא ז”ל משם רשב”י הקבור שם שאמר לו אמור לאיש הזה למה הוא אומר נחם ביום שמחתי ולכן הוא יהיה נחם בקרוב וכן היה שמת לו בנו הגדול (סי’ תצג).
Here too we see a version of the story that has nothing about it being the yahrzeit of Rashbi.
Another example of an early source that quotes the Arizal about Lag Ba-Omer, but makes no mention of it being his yahrzeit can be found in the Sefer Shirei ha-Levim. This work was first printed in 1677; it includes anything having to do with the topic of Shir Shel Yom including the Arizal’s custom that he found in different sources.[13] When talking about Lag Ba-Omer he writes:
ל”ג בעמור שייך מזמור לז על שם שנאמר בו צופה רשע לצדיק וגו’ וזה שייך על רשב”י וחבריו שנשארו מתלמידי ר”ע כמבואר בגמרא ולא שלט בהם המלאך המות ביום ההוא וכן מיום ההוא והלאה כי קצת דיעות. וכתב בספר כוונת האר”י הנדפס שהלך האריז”ל עם אשתו ובניו לגלח על קבר רשב”י ועשה משתה ושמחה ג’ ימים לג לד לה ולמדו ספר הזוהר על קברו לכבודו של רשב”י וחביריו שנשתיירו והעמידו תורה באותו שעה, וע”ש מעשה נפלא על אחד שנענש על שאמר נחם בתפילת יח בעת שמחתו אבל ספר כוונת של הקדוש ר’ חיים וויטל…
I am not sure which printed edition of Sefer Hakavanot he was referring to that contains this passage. However we see here also no mention of it being yahrzeit of Rashbi.
The Mishnat Chassidim, first printed in 1727, collected lots of material from the Arizal. When talking about Lag Ba-Omer, also makes no mention of it being the yarzheit of Rashbi.[14] He just writes:
ועל ידי ר’ שמעון בן יוחאי שהיה אף הוא תלמידו נתקיים העולם לפיכך אין להתאבל ביום זה כלל על החרבן שלא יענש אל מצוה לשמח שמחת ר’ שמעון בן יוחאי ואם דר בארץ ישראל ילך לשמוח על קברו.
Next is the historical work Divrei Yosef from R. Yosef Sambary, completed in 1672 but only printed a few years ago, (although parts were printed by Adolf Neubauer in 1887). When he records the story with the Arizal about someone saying Nachem at the kever of Rashbi, he does not even mention it was on Lag Ba-Omer; he, too, records the story stressing that it was a day of Simcha not the yahrzeit of Rashbi (p. 188).
It is also worth pointing out that the Shelah ha-Kadosh, an earlier work that was influenced by the Arizal, when talking about Lag Ba-Omer, also makes no mention of it being the yahrzeit of Rashbi.
The Divrei Nechemiah, written by the grandson of the Ba’al ha-Tanyah, writes (no. 34) that there is a printing mistake in the Peri Etz Chaim when he says that it was the yahrzeit of Rashbi. However he concludes:
אך המפורסמות אין צריך ראיה שכבר נתפרסם בכל העולם מכמה דורות ע’ הלולא דרשב”י בל”ג בעומר ומסתמא יש מקור לזה בזוהר או בכתבי האר”י ז”ל.
In short it is quite amazing that the whole source for Lag ba-Omer being the day of Rashbi’s death is based on a printing mistake found in only one version of the story with the Arizal, while all other versions I have found of the story does not say anything about it being the yahrzeit of Rashbi!
Returning to the origins of going to Meron on Lag Ba-Omer, Avraham Yaari, has a very detailed article where he collects many early sources[15] for going to Meron in general[16] from famous travelers such as R. Binyomin Me-Tudela in the 1170s, R. Pesachyah Me-Regensburg, but these early sources make no mention of going to Rashbi’s Kever, only to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai[17] who are also buried in Meron.[18] The first source that Avraham Yaari found that mentions going to Rashbi’s kever is from the twelfth-century in the travels of R. Yaakov HaKohen. After that, he found it in other sources.[19] None of these sources mention to these kevarim at a specific time. In the beginning of the fourteenth century, however, a student of the Ramban mentions going to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai in Meron on a specific date in the month of Iyar, on Pesach Shnei. We have other early sources that mention going to those kevarim on Pesach Sheini. In the famous letter of R. Ovadiah me-Bertinoro (1488) and the travels of R. Moshe Basola (1521-1523), we also find mention of going to Meron to visit the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai on Pesach Sheini. From many of these sources, we see that the reason they went was to daven for water, and that at times, water would miraculously appear from the caves. However, it is important to stress that while we have many accounts of going to Meron even during the month of Iyar none mention going to the kever of Rashbi during that time of year.
Avraham Yaari and Meir Benayahu cite many sources that clearly demonstrate that the Mekubelei Tzefat would go to Meron to the kever of Rashbi a few times during the year to learn Zohar. However, the first source we have for someone going to Rashbi’s kever specifically on Lag Ba-Omer, is the Talmdim of the Arizal, who say that the Arizal once went to the kever of Rashbi on Lag Ba-Omer while still living in Egypt. When recording this testimony, R. Hayyim Vital writers that he is not sure if this occurred before the Arizal was well versed in Kabbalah. But he stresses that he was doing something done by others before him. We do not know to whom R. Hayyim Vital referred. Meir Benayahu concluded that the custom of going to Meron on Lag Ba-Omer was begun by the Mekubelei Tzefat.
Although Yaari concedes that Mekubelei Tzefat were very into going to the kever of Rashbi, that is not how the minhag to go specifically on Lag Ba-Omer developed. Yaari shows that the custom of going to Meron was taken from an earlier custom of going to Shmuel Hanavi’s Kever on his yahrzeit, which was on the twenty-eighth day of Iyar.[20] The Tur brings down from the Behag that one should fast on this day. We have many early sources of prayers that were recited on this day at Shmuel Hanavi’s Kever.[21] In the travels of Meshulem Me-Volterrah from 1481, the travels of R. Ovadiah me-Bertinoro (1488) and the travels of R. Moshe Basola (1521-1523) we also find mention of going to Shmuel Hanavi’s Kever on his yarzheit. In these sources, we also see that they used to light many big flames. Avraham Yaari believes this to be the source of the minhag to go to Kever of Rashbi.
In sum, the above indicates that there are early sources for people going to Meron during the month of Iyar, on Pesach Sheni, to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai. The Mekubelei Tzefat went to Rashbi’s kever throughout the year and Meir Benayahu feels that the minhag of going Lag Ba-Omer originated from them too. While Yaari feels that the custom of going to Meron on Lag Ba-Omer was taken from an earlier custom to go to Shmuel Hanavi’s Kever on his yahrzeit, it is also clear that the Arizal did, in fact, go to the kever of Rashbi on Lag Ba-Omer at least once.
However it appears to this writer that it is more likely that the custom of going to Meron to the Kever of R. Shimon Bar Yochai on Lag Ba-Omer grew out of the earlier minhag of going to Meron in the month of Iyar, to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai on Pesach Sheini which is only a few days before Lag Ba-Omer, and not from the Minhag of going to Shmuel Hanavi’s Kever on his yahrzeit, which was on the twenty eighth day of Iyar, which is not even in Meron. Possibly support to this can be found in the travels of R. Moshe of Basola who writes that after going to kevarim of Hillel and Shammai on Pesach Sheini, the crowd would go to the cave where Rashbi and his son hid for thirteen years and they would spend a few days and nights celebrating in Meron.[22]
In the work Arugat Ha-Bosem, written in 1234, I found a very interesting version to the earlier quoted, famous Gemara of why the sefirah period is considered a time of mourning. He writes:
מה טעם מנהג בישראל אין עושין מלאכה בין פסח לעצרת, משתקשע החמה עד למחרת שחרית, ואמרו לנו שני טעמים אחד על פטירת תלמיד הילל ושמאי, דאמ’ שמוני’ אלף תלמיד’ היו להילל הזקן ושמאי מגבת ועד אנטיפרס, וכולן מתו מפסח עד עצרת על שאלה ונוהגים כבוד זה לזה… [ערוגת הבשם, א, עמ’ 75].
This version would be possible additionally support, that originally in Iyar Jews went to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai on Pesach Sheini. However I was unable to find any other manuscript that records such a reading of this Gemara.[23]
R. Shemaryhu Adler has a very interesting insight into the deaths of the talmdim of R. Akiva during sefira and when they start dyeing. In this piece he also says as a fact that Rashbi died on Lag B’Omer.
נראה טעם הגון ונכון לעצומו של יום לג בעומר דהוא בכלל יום טוב. ובהקדם להבין עוד מה דלכאורה תמוה דלמה לכולהו הני שיטות ליכא התחלה לאבילות כי אם מזמן התחלת ספירת העומר והיינו מיום ב’ דפסח דאיזה שייכות יש לאבילות ךדלמידי ר”ע לזמן התחלת ספירת העומר כיון דיבמות ס”ב ע”ב אמר כולם מתו מפסח ועד עצרת וסתמא תנא מפסח מנ”ל דזהו מיום ב’ דפסח ולא מיום א’.
נראה ע”פ דאמר במנחות סח ע”ב יתיב ר”ט וקא קשיא ליה מה בין קודם לעומר לקודם שתי הלחם אמר לפניו יהודה בר נחמיה לא אם אמרת קודם לעומר כשן לא הותר מכללו אצל הדיוט כו’ שתק ר”ט צהבו פניו של רבי יהודה בר נחמיה אמר לו ר”ע יהודה הבצו פניך שהשבת את זקן תמהני אם תאריך ימים אר”י ב”ר אלעי אותו הפרק פרס הפסח היה עשעליתי לעצרת שאלתי אחריו יהודה בן נחמיה היכן הוא ואמרו לי נפטר והלך לו עכ”ל הגמרא יעו”ש
ומזה נראה דהי’ קודם פסח ט”ו יום ונשאו ונתנו בענינא דעומר וע”י דצהבו פניו של יהודה בן נחמיה במה דהשיב את ר”ט ועי”ז קפד ר”ע מסברא לומר דבעת שהגיע זמן הקרבת העומר דהוא זמן התחלת ספירת העומר ביום ב’ של פסח מצאה הקפידה מקום דתיחול כיון דעיקר דהשיב לר”ט היה בענינא דעומר וכיון דקפידת ר”ע היה על מה דתלמידו יהודה בן נחמיה התכבד בתשובתו לר”ט ולא נהג בו כבוד כראוי ומצאה הקפידה מקום לנוח בזמן הקרבת העומר דזהו היתה סיבה להא דהשיב הזקן ר”ט שפיר התפשטה קפידת ר”ע ג”כ על כל תלמידיו שלא נהגו כבוד זה לזה והלכך שפיר התחילה פטירתן מאותו זמן דעיקר הקפידה חלה והיינו מיום ב’ דפסח שהוא זמן הקרבת העומר והלכך שפיר שייכא אבילות דתלמידי ר”ע לזמן התחלת ספירת העומר וכנ”ל
ועיין כי רשב”י היה מתלמידי ר”ע והיה קפדן גדול וכדאמר במעילה יז ע”ב… וא”כ הו”א כיון דר”ש ג”ג נפטר ביום ל”ג בעומר נהי דכבר היה זה זמן טובא אחר שמתו תלמידי ר”ע כיון דאמר ביבמות ס”ב והיה… מ”מ כיון דקפידת ר”ע על מניעת נהיגת כבוד חלה בזמן בעומר שוב פטירת ר”ש דהיתה בזמן ימי העומר והיינו ל”ג בעומר ג”כ מקפידת ר”ע רבו על דהיה קפדן ובודאי לא נהג כבוד, והלכך לשלילת מחשבה כזו עושים קצת שמחה להראות דפטירת רשב”י אינו בגדר קפדנותו של ר”ע רבו ומטעמא דנהי דרשב”י היה קפדן מ”מ לא היתה לבד התכבדות בקלונו של חברו ח”ו דז”א דרשב”י הי צדיק גמור ועיקר קפדנותו לא היתה כ”א לכבוד השי”ת וקנאותו וזהו עיקר הלולא דרשב”י (שו”ת מראה כהן, סי’ כט אות ג).
R. Eliezer Dunner, in his work Zichron Yosef Tzvi, offers a very novel reason for the celebration on Lag Ba-Omer. He says that we know that R. Akiva was a strong supporter of Bar Kochba. He suggests that R. Akiva students were soldiers in his army to fight the Romans and they died in this time period of Sefirah. During this time, on Lag Ba-Omer, the Jews were winning, that is why they turned this day into a great day of celebration.
ידענו כי ר’ עקיבא היה הולך ונוסע ומלמד בכל תפוצת הארץ ובכל מקום היה לו תלמידים הרבה מאוד ועין שחושב לבר כוזבא כמשיח קרא כל תלמידיו להלחם בצד בר כוזבא ותחת רגליו נגד חיל האויבים… ואף על פי שבתחילה חלשו היהודים את אויביהם לפי חרב אחר כך גברו הרומיים ולכדו מישראל עיר ועיר ובאותה זמן היתה מלחמה בכל יום יום ובכל מלחמה נפלו ומתו הרבה אנשים מחיל בר כוזבא ובהן כמה תלמידי ר’ עקיבא וכששקעה החמה בכל יום ויום פסקה המלחמה ואז נקברו כל המתים. ואפשר שבתוך כל המלחמות הללו שהיו יום יום ושבהם גברו האויביהם על ישראל היה יום אחד והוא ל”ג בעומר שגבר בו ישראל אותו יום שבו היה להם ישעות ה’ בעת צרתם יום גבורה ותשועה אותו יום קבעו ליום שמחה לדור דורים וכמו כן שמעתי גם מפי הרב דק”ק פוזנא מוהר”ר זאב פיילכענפעלד ז”ל (זכרון יוסף צבי, סי’ תצ”ג).
However, this original explanation, while giving us new insight into the mourning period during sefirah does not help us understand the connection to Rashbi. Avraham Korman in his Pinu’ach Aggadot (pp. 190-210) cites others (not R. Dunner) that tie the death of the talmidim of R. Akiva to the rebellion of Bar Kochba and he goes further to explain the connection between this and Rashbi and other minhagim of Sefirah.
There is a custom in many chasidic courts to use bow and arrows on Lag Ba-Omer. Many explanations are offered, but Korman says that perhaps the bows and arrows serve as a reminder of the war that the students of Rebbe Akiva fought against the Romans. As an aside, although most sources for bow and arrows on Lag Ba-Omer are found in chasidic seforim, I have found a possible source that in Vilna in the early 1800’s they also used bow and arrows on Lag Ba-Omer.[24]
R. Mordechai Ha-Kohen suggests based on this connection between the students of R. Akiva and the battle of Bar Kochba, that we can understand another issue. The Tur brings an old minhag that woman would refrain from doing work at night from after sunset the whole sefirah. He says the reason was the woman too participated in the battles against Bar Kochba they acted as nurses and helped the fallen soldiers and buried the dead every day after sunset when the fighting stopped. Therefore he says a custom developed that woman today do not do work after sunset.[25]
The earliest source who ties the mourning period during sefirah period for the deaths of the students of R’ Akiva and the battle of Bar Kochba that I found was in the magnum opus of the famous Galician maskil, Nachman Krochmal, who write in his Moreh Nevuchei Ha-zman:
אכן נראה כי גברה עתה המחשבה והעצה למרוד גם בין קצת החכמים וביחוד בין התלמידים והבחורים, ויש זכר לדבר גם בתלמוד ובמדרשות, ד”מ השנים עשר אלף תלמידים שהיו לר’ עקיבא מגבת ועד אטניפרוס וכולם מתו מפסח ועד עצרת (כלומר שעזבוהו כולם בזמן קצר לעת המרידה ולבסוף ספו תמו במלחמה) [מורה נבוכי הזמן, שער י, עמ’ קט].
Support to this theory can possibly be found in the Iggeret R. Sherirah Gaon according to Gedaliahu Alon. R. Sherirah Gaon writes:
והעמיד ר’ עקיבא תלמידים הרבה והוה שמדא על התלמידים של ר’ עקיבא והות סמכא דישראל על התלמידים שנייים של ר’ עקיבא דאמור רבנן שנים עשר אלף תלמידים היו לו לר’ עקיבא מגבת ועד אנטיפטרס וכלם מתו מפסח ועד עצרת (אגרת ר’ שרירא גאון, ב”מ לוין, עמ’ 13).
Alon suggests that the words and “there was a Shemad” implies they were killed by the government.[26] However, it is not so simple that this is all historically true as there are many different discussions to what extent was R. Akiva was actively involved in the rebellion. It is well known that the Rambam writes:
וביתר שמה והיו בה אלפים ורבבות מישראל והיה להם מלך גדול ודימו כל ישראל וגדולי החכמים שהוא המלך המשיח, ונפל ביד גוים ונהרגו כולם והיתה צרה גדולה כמו חורבן המקדש (הל’ תעניות ה:ג).
Elsewhere he writes even more clearly:
אל יעלה על דעתך שהמלך המשיח צריך לעשות אותות ומופתים ומחדש דברים בעולם או מחיה מתים וכיוצא בדברים אלו, אין הדבר כך, שהרי רבי עקיבא חכם גדול מחכמי משנה היה, והוא היה נושא כליו של בן כוזיבא המלך, והוא היה אומר עליו שהוא המלך המשיח, ודימה הוא וכל חכמי דורו שהוא המלך המשיח, עד שנהרג בעונות, כיון שנהרג נודע להם שאינו… (הל’ מלכים יא:ג).
The Meiri writes:
וכן בדבור הזה עמד בן עוזיבא ועשה עצמו משיח, וטעו רבים אחריו, ואף ר’ עקיבא היה נושא כליו (סדר קבלה, מה’ אופק, עמ’ 77).
R. Hamberger in his Meshichei Sheker u-Mitnageidheim (pp. 676-681) has a long list of people who agree with the Rambam.
Zecharia Frankel in Darkei HaMishna (p. 128) concludes that he did not really have much to do with the rebellion[27]. Y. Derenberg concludes that R. Akiva and his students were very involved with Bar Kochba.[28] R. Issac Halevi in his Dorot Ha-Rishonim (5, pp. 602- 628) downplays R. Akiva’s role completely saying he did not really endorse Bar Kokhba for that long. From the Rambam and Meiri quoted above it seems they disagree. Aharon Heyman concludes that R. Akiva and his students were actively involved with Bar Kochba (Toledot Tanaaim ve-Amoraim 3, pp. 1002-1004).
To conclude with a well-known cute story related to R. Akiva and Bar Kochba: R. Zevin brings from R. Chaim Soloveitchik:
פעם אחת נסע רבי חיים ברכבת… היה שם איש אחד מן המסיתים, שהירבה דברים להוכיח שאותו האיש הוא המשיח… בתוך הויכוח נענה אחד ואמר להמסית וכי מי יודע יותר בטיבו של אותו האיש התנאים, שהיו בדורו והכירו אותו ואת מעשיו או אתה שאתה רחוק ממנו כאלפיים שנה? והרי התנאים של אותו דור דנוהו ותלוהו. השיב המסית אותם התנאים הרי אנו רואים, שטועים היו שכן טעה רבי עקיבא וחשב את בר כוכבא למשיח. נסתתמו טענותיו של היהודי ורבי חיים כשראה שיד המסית על העליונה, נענה ואמר וכי זו מנין לך שרבי עקיבא טעה בבר כוכבא? נתלהב המסית הרי הרגו את בר כוכבא! אם כן משיב רבי חיים בנחת הרי אתה מודה שמשיח שנהרג אינו משיח. (אישים ושיטות, עמ’ ס).
* Thanks to R. Yosef Avivi for his help with some of the issues related to the writings of the Arizal.
[1] Much has been written about all the customs of Lag Ba-Omer. The best collections of material on the topic appear in Avraham Yaari, Tarbiz 22 (1951); Meir Benayhu, Sefunot 6 pp. 11-40, summarized in Sefer Vilnai 2:326-330] and R. Betzalel Landau, Maseh Meron (1966). See also David Tamar, Eshkolet Tamar, pp. 116-120]. See also R. Shelomo Joseph Zevin, Moadim Bahalcha pp. 359-64; Shmuel Ashkenazi, Avnei Chain pp. 103-11. For more recent collections of sources see: R. Yaakov Hillel, Aid ha-Gal ha-Zeh, pp. 3-29; Moshe Blau, Yeshurun 15 (2008), pp. 854-872; Tuviah Freund, Moadim le-Simcha; Pardes Eliezer s.v Lag ba-Omer;Yitzhak Tessler, Pinnenei ha-Chag.
As I have noted in my previous post at the Seforim blog on the topic of Lag ba-Omer, Freund and Blau have each plagiarized greatly from the works of Landau, Yaari, and Benayahu.
[2] For a detailed discussion, see R. Gedaliah Oberlander, Minhag Avoteinu be-Yadeinu (Merkaz Halakhah, 2005), pp. 528-547.
[3] On this work see R. R.N. Rabinowitz, Ohel Avraham (1898) pp. 14-15; Y.Yudolov, Yeshurun 24 (2011), pp. 893-919.
[4] Dershos Ri Ibn Shu’eib, 1, p. 222.
[5];Peri Chadash, 493:2. See also Beis Yosef and Aruch Ha-shulchan.
[6] For more on this edition, see R. Yosef Avivi, Binyan Ariel, pp. 68-71 and his Kabbalat Ha-Ari, 2, pp. 705-06.
[7] One can see pictures of the manuscripts in the article from Moshe Blau cited in footnote one.
[8] It would appear to me that Reb Yosef Engel also did not think that Rashbi died on Lag B’omer as in his work Otzros Yosef he has many pages on Lag b’omer and talmidei R. akiva etc and he makes no mention that it was the day he died.
[9] Thanks to an anonymous commenter for pointing to this letter.
[10] For a partial list of sources regarding the Chemdat Yamim controversy, see my Likutei Eliezer, p. 2. It’s worth mentioning that a new three volume edition of the Chemdat Yamim has just been printed in Benei Brak. The edition is very nice and was based upon the first edition. However, the 250 page introduction is extremely amusing.
[11] See R. Yosef Avivi, Kabbalat Ha-Ari, 2, pp. 752-753.
[12] See R. Yosef Avivi, Kabbalat Ha-Ari, 2, pp. 593-598, 670-672, 705-06. See also Zeev Gries, Safrot Ha-hanhaghot, pp. 81-84, 87-90; Yaakov S. Speigel, Pitchei Tefilah u-Moed, pp. 308-309.
Edit 6.22.11: However after reading this post R. Bentzion Meisles (In a personal communication) showed me that this whole piece with the Arizal going to Meron does indeed appear in the Sefer Hakavonos of R. Terniki, (In the 2006 edition it appears on pp. 5-6) and it too says שמחתי.
[13] On this work see here and here.
[14] See R. Yosef Avivi, Kabbalat Ha-Ari, 2, pp. 757-759.
[15] The actual sources can be seen in his works Masaot Eretz Yisrael and Iggerot Eretz Yisrael.
[16] Much has been written about davening at kevarim in general see Yehezkal Lichtenstein, Me-Tumah Le-Kedusha, pp. 218-242, 293-386.
[17] M. Zulay published very early Piyutim that seem to show that Hillel and Shammai were brothers! See his Eretz Yisrael u-Piyuteh, pp. 539-545.
[18] On going to the kevarim of Hillel and Shammai see M. Weiss, Kivrei Avos, 129-132; Elchanan Reiner “Pilgrims and Pilgrimage to Eretz Yisrael (1099-1517),” (PhD dissertation, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 1988), 295-320.
[19] General sources for going to the Kever of Rashbi can be found in M.Weiss, Kivrei Avos pp. 179-81; Z. Vilnai, Mazavos be-Eretz ha-Kodesh pp. 117-150.
[20] On this being his date of death see the Tur (O.C. 580); S. Elitzur, Lamu Tzamnu, pp. 177-180.
[21] M. Zulay, Eretz Yisrael U-piyuteh, pp. 401-412. For more regarding Shmuel ha-Navi and visiting his grave, see M. Weiss, Kivrei Avot, pp. 113-16; Lamu Tzamnu pp. 177-80; Reiner op. cit. pp. 306-20; Y. Lichtenstein, Me-Tumah Le-Kedusha, pp. 298-230.
[22] The Itinerary of R. Moses Basola (David ed.) p.91.
[23] See Makhon Talmud Yisraeli, Yevamot 62b.
[24] Kundes p. 49. For more on this 1824 parody see here. For more sources on using bow and arrows on Lag Ba-Omer: see the sources listed by Landau, ibid pp. 124-26; Moadim le-Simcha pp. 155-59; Pardes Eliezer pp. 229-49; ha-Koton ve-Halachosov chapter 24 p. 59 n. 22; Zikhronot Av u-Beno p. 231; A.S. Sachs, Worlds that Passed (Philadelphia, 1928), p. 112.
[25] Ishim Utekufot, pp. 102-105.
[26] Toldos Hayehudim Beretz Yisroel, 2, pp. 43-44.
[27] See also J. Brull in his Mavo Le-Mishna, 2. pp. 121-122. For more sources on all this see: G. Alon, Toldos Hayehudim Beretz Yisroel, 2, pp. 16-47; S. Safrai, R. Akiva Ben Yosef, pp. 26-33; M. Cohen, Ishim Utekufot, pp. 92-112; R. Y. Tamar, Alei Tamar, Tannis, pp. 390-392;C. Kulitz, Rosh Lechachochim; Ibid, Ben Ha-aliyah; collection of articles in Mared Bar Kochba, Ed. A. Oppenheimer; R. Hamberger, Meshichei Sheker U-misnagdim, pp. 138-155, 665-681.
[28] Maseh Eretz Yisroel, pp. 220-228.



New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 4

New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 4
Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
Returning to the issue of creation, I found an interesting comment in R. Hayyim Hirschensohn’s commentary on Rashi, Nimukei Rashi. For those who are unaware of this commentary, I recommend that you examine it. You can order a bound copy (even soft-cover) very cheaply at hebrewbooks.org. I think that this is one of Hirschenson’s greatest works.[1]
In his comment to Gen. 1:13 Hirschensohn writes that belief in eternity (which here apparently means eternal matter in the Platonic sense, not an eternal universe in the Aristotelian sense) is not heretical, just foolish. He explains that something foolish by definition cannot be heretical, and gives an example: If you say that 2+2=5 this is false, but it is not heretical. It would be interesting to develop this theme further, and to see to what conclusions it takes you.
Also regarding creation, see his comment to Gen. 2:6 where he explains how evolution fits in with Torah, and where he differs with Darwin.[2] He sees support for his view in Rashi, although he acknowledges that Rashi himself didn’t have evolution in mind. Rather, one can explain Rashi in accord with modern views even though Rashi himself had no knowledge of modern science. Here is an example where a book, in this case Rashi’s commentary, is explained with no concern given to original intent, the notion being that a book has a life of its own and is not bound to the interpretations of its author. I cited material on this theme in Studies in Maimonides, and there is a good deal more I can add from traditional Jewish writings. (In my Hakirah response to Buchman, I promised to explore this issue in a future Hakirah article).
Here is Hirschensohn’s passage:
אל יחשוב הקורא שדעתי שרש”י ז”ל ידע מענין ההתפתחות והי’ לו שיטה מצוינה מיוחד בזה, שאהי’ בזה לצחוק לכל שומע, אמנם דעתי שרוח הקודש הופיע בבית מדרשו ופירושו בהפסוקים מתאימים לפרש על ידיהם שיטות פילוסופיות וטבעיות לפי אמתתם
Quite apart from his main point, I find Hirschensohn’s opening words here fascinating. We get a sense of whom he felt he was writing for when he says that if he were to claim that Rashi knew of the most advanced scientific thought, that it would be regarded as laughable. I think that even today if someone were to attribute prophetic-like scientific knowledge to Rashi, there are some circles where this would not occasion laughter, but great respect, on the assumption that as with Hazal, Rashi’s knowledge in these matters is all-encompassing.
I could have an entire post on the provocative material in Nimukei Rashi, but let me just give a couple of more examples. In his commentary to Gen. 4:16, Hirschensohn says that prophets can make mistakes, just like the rest of the people of their time. He says that they can even make such errors when it comes to principles of faith:
כי לא כל הנביאים ידעו הפילוסופיא האלקות האמתית . . . יכולים לטעות בטעותים אשר בני אדם בדורם טועים
He applies this insight to prophets who lived before the giving of the Torah. However, those prophets who lived after the Revelation at Sinai and were able to study Torah in a proper philosophical fashion were spared these types of errors.
ורק נביאי ישראל אשר למדו תורת ה’ עמדו מן התורה ומן החכמה ודעת על אמתת הפילוסופיא האלקות . . . כי הנבואה לא בא להודיע רק את הדבר אשר הודיעה מפורש ובשאר דברים יכול האדם להשאר בטעותיו הקדומים ורק התורה עם החכמה והדעת המה מודיעים את האמתית [!] ועקרי האמונה והפילוסופיא . . . כי הקב”ה חפץ שהאדם יהי’ דורש למצא את האמת לא ליתן לו את האמת בנבואה בלתי דרישה וחקירה.
In a previous installment of this series I dealt with Maimonides’ view that prophets can make errors, with the proof being how Ezekiel’s prophecy was based on incorrect science. I also noted Ralbag’s claim that one of Abraham’s prophecies contained an error. In other words, Hirschensohn’s basic point has an honored precedent.
However, as far as I know, no one prior to Hirschensohn claimed that prophets could make errors in basic theological points. Yet Hirschensohn’s argument is very strong, for his proof is from Cain. Cain must be regarded as a prophet, as God spoke to him. Yet Cain also erred in a basic theological point, as he didn’t think that God’s knowledge was all-encompassing. This incidentally illustrates why according to Maimonides the entire Cain and Abel story cannot be understood as historical. While Hirschensohn is able to say that “not all prophets knew the true divine philosophy,” for Maimonides this is the basis of prophecy and the only way it comes about. The notion that Cain, or Adam for that matter, could have developed his mind philosophically in order to achieve prophecy is obviously not a serious proposition. Therefore, according to Maimonides, it is clear that God never spoke to Cain. In other words, from Maimonides’ perspective the story never actually happened, and must be understood as a philosophical or moral tale.
This interpretation of Maimonides is nothing new. Lawrence Kaplan has already noted that the standard commentaries on Maimonides’ Guide—Efodi, Shem Tov, Falaquera, Ibn Caspi, and Narboni—leave little doubt that in their mind Maimonides’ position is that the births of Cain, Abel, and Seth are to be understood allegorically.[3] When it comes to the Cain story I think the matter is fairly clear-cut, for if a brute like Cain can be regarded as a prophet this would contradict Maimonides’ entire philosophical understanding of what prophecy is.
R. Hananel Sari makes an interesting point that is relevant to what we are discussing.[4] He calls attention to the fact that matters which Maimonides does not regard as having been real historical events are treated as such, for educational or spiritual purposes, in the Mishneh Torah. Maimonides himself writes about how this was the practice of ancient courts in dealing with the Wayward Woman (Hilkhot Sotah 3:2):
ומגידין לה מעשה יהודה ותמר כלתו, ומעשה ראובן בפילגש אביו על פשטו
Sari offers two examples of this phenomenon in Maimonides’ writing. One is the story of the angels coming to visit Abraham, which Maimonides famously understands to have taken place in a dream. Yet from Hilkhot Evel 14:2 the reader would assume that Maimonides understood this event to have actually occurred. The second example Sari offers relates to Cain and Abel. According to the standard medieval commentators to Guide 2:30, Maimonides understands the Cain and Abel episode allegorically. Yet as Sari points out, in Beit ha-Behirah 2:2 Maimonides treats the Cain and Abel story as historical: והוא המזבח שהקריב עליו קין והבל
In fact, it is not only in the Mishneh Torah that we find the phenomenon Sari discusses, but in the Guide as well. Thus, while in Guide 2:42 Maimonides tells us that the entire story of Balaam and the donkey happened in a vision, in Guide 2:6 he speaks of the movements of the donkey as if this was an actual event.[5]
With regard to the story of Cain and Abel, Shalom Rosenberg has explained how Maimonides understood it allegorically:
Cain and Abel embody two types of life which epitomize the fullest development of human potential in man before he has reached his rational level. Maimonides refers here to the legend which says that before Adam begat his third son, Seth, his children for 130 years were demons.[6] For Maimonides, there is no doubt that the demons mentioned in this legend are none but Cain and Abel. Both Cain and Abel stand, for Maimonides, as symbols of types of life which have not reached their full perfection. This is the meaning of demons. For what, after all, is a demon? A demon is created when reason and thought, which are devised for protecting man’s perfection, are exploited by all sorts of devices which produce evil consequences. Thus, Maimonides sees the existence of demons as the most widespread sort of existence, the existence of human beings who are endowed with reason, but use their reason for evil purposes. Thus, a demonic existence is that of Abel, who—as one of Maimonides’ commentators remarks—stands for the fool, or for foolishness. But Cain, too, stands for man who had arrived at many technological achievements, but the purpose of these achievements is evil. When this evil predominates, it becomes the source of murder and war. These are the devices of human reason when used for evil purposes.[7]
Herbert A. Davidson writes:
Maimonides had hinted that the scriptural story of the creation of adam has in view the bringing forth of the entire human species, in other words, mankind in general; that in the rabbinic account of the formation of Eve out of Adam’s side, the male aspect of the original Adam symbolizes the human intellect, and the female aspect, man’s nonintellectual nature; that the serpent’s temptation of Eve and Eve’s temptation of Adam are an allegory for the deflection of the human intellect by the lower faculties of the human soul; that the names of Adam’s first sons, Cain and Abel, have allegorical significance, and that there is significance in Seth’s being the son of Adam from whom the entire species is descended.[8]
In 2000 R. Nissim of Marseilles’ commentary on the Torah, Ma’aseh Nissim, ed. Kreisel, was published, and it too deals with Cain and Abel. R. Nissim states explicitly (p. 271):
וכן שלשה בני אדם: קין והבל ושת – משל. או אם נמצאו ונולדו לאדם, יש בקריאת שמותם רמז והערה לשלש שלמויות האדם.
I think everyone who reads R. Nissim’s commentary will conclude that his preference is for the first possibility, namely, the non-historicity of Adam’s three children.
* * *
1. In this post I referred to what I termed an anti-intellectual comment from R. Kook’s Shemonah Kevatzim. I noted the radical nature of this comment, as it places the Jewish masses, and their natural morality, on a higher plane than the talmudic scholars.[9] I also noted that it is not surprising that R. Zvi Yehudah, recognizing the subversive nature of the comment, did not publish it.
R. Ari Chwat called my attention to the fact that, unlike R. Zvi Yehudah, the Nazir actually published the same sort of comment in Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 2, pp. 364-365 (=Shemonah Kevatzim 1:140). While here too R. Kook speaks of how the masses need the Torah scholars, again we see that it is actually the Torah scholars who have more to learn from the masses then the reverse. Note how R. Kook privileges the masses, not only when it comes to natural morality, but in a whole host of areas. We see here how R. Kook felt that excessive book learning, with all of its details, had a negative effect on the pure Jewish soul.
הצד הבריא של היושר מצוי הוא באנשים גסים יותר ויותר ממה שהוא מצוי במלומדים ומוסריים, בעלי מחשבה. יותר מובהקים הם המלומדים בדברים הפרטיים של המוסר, בחוקיו ודקדוקיו, אבל עצם הרגשתו זאת היא מצויה באנשים בריאים טבעיים, שהם הם המון, עם הארץ. ולאו דוקא בהרגשת המוסר השרשית עולה הוא ההמון על אנשי הסגולה. גם בהרגשת האמונה, הגדלות האלהית, היופי, החושיות, הכל אשר לחיים בדרך ישרה, בלתי מסוננת על ידי הציורות המלאים שכר אגמי נפש של הדעה והחכמה הוא יותר בריא וטהור בההמון
Again I ask, is this not incredibly subversive? Since the writings of the early hasidic masters, have any of our great sages written anything that so undermines the status of the rabbinic elite? I will have more to say about this, with additional citations in R. Kook’s writings, in future installments to this series.
While not going to the extreme of R. Kook, let me mention a couple of other non-hasidic examples where book learning is “put in its place”, as it were. The late R. Mordechai Elefant told the following story: R. Chaim Ozer Grodzinski once asked R. Elijah Hayyim Meisels, the rav of Lodz, why a man of his stature didn’t publish a book. R. Elijah got up, went into the other room, and came back with ledgers full of lists of widows and orphans whom he had helped. He told R. Chaim Ozer, “This is my sefer. All my life I was like you. I thought the important thing was to write a sefer on the Rambam. But as I got older, I realized this sefer is more important.”[10]
R. Hayyim Haikel Greenberg[11] recorded the same lesson in the name of another sage:
שבעת שהיה צעיר חשב שכל העולם זהו ספרים – ועכשיו לעת זקנותו העלפען א ארימע אלמנה אוף שבת און אאידען, וויכטיקער ווי אלע ספרים.
Greenberg mentions that after publishing this he was criticized by many important rabbis, but R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg supported him:
מי כמוני שאוהב ספרים ומחברים וכל העולם שלי זהו רק ספרים – ואני אומר בפה מלא ובלב שלם יישר כח שהדפיס והעתיק זאת.
In speaking of opposition to book learning, here is a text that is simply unbelievable, and which I have never seen mentioned in the scholarly literature.
It is from Midrash ha-Gadol on Genesis (Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition). I don’t understand how the lesson is derived from the verse, but the lesson itself is clear enough: too much Torah study will lead to heresy. This is the sort of thing that one might expect to see in a medieval Catholic source, in justification of keeping the laity ignorant. Yet here we find the same attitude in a Jewish source. There are examples in rabbinic literature where we see that Torah study can have a negative result,[12] but I don’t know of any other text that is so blatant in its opposition to “excessive” Torah study. In the highly unlikely event that there are any high school students reading this who have been slacking off in Torah study, and have been challenged by their rebbe or parents to explain their inaction, see what happens if you pull out this text to explain matters.
I had seen this text a few years ago, and wanting to include it in the post I ordered the volume from interlibrary loan. The copy sent to me was from the University of Pennsylvania, and was originally found in the personal library of the late Dr. Judah Goldin. On the page we are looking at, Goldin underlined the strange passage (and also noted it on the first page of the book). On the side he added a reference to Targum Ps. Jonathan, Num. 22:5. Here it says that Balaam (who is identified with Laban) acted foolishly “from the greatness of his wisdom.” In other words, it was Balaam’s great wisdom that led to his thinking that he could curse the Israelites. Yet this passage only refers to Balaam’s general wisdom. It says nothing of Torah knowledge leading him astray.
With regard to R. Kook’s comments about the natural morality of the simple Jew, Joel Rich sent me chapter 4 of R. Soloveitchik’s Reflections of the Rav, ed. Besdin. The chapter is entitled “The Profundity of Jewish Folk Wisdom,” and is well worth reading. Yet you don’t find in R. Soloveitchik the notion expressed by R. Kook, that the natural morality of the simple Jew is superior to that of the scholar. For R. Kook, the simple Jew has something that the scholar does not have, and the scholar has that which the simple Jew lacks (halakhic knowledge). In this way, each can learn, and indeed is dependant, on the other. In dialectical fashion, the result of this will be a new type of Jew who combines in himself the best of both the scholar and the simple Jew. This is parallel to R. Kook’s discussion of the role of the non-religious. In the creation of the new Eretz Yisrael Jew the non-religious have that which is lacking among the religious, namely, the attachment to the physical world and the strength which Jews used to have when they lived on the Land, but which was forgotten during the long Exile. So the non-religious will bring that to the table, and the religious Jew will obviously bring Torah and spirituality. The result with be a synthesis of the two and the creation of an Eretz Yisrael Jew who, while being both Torah observant and spiritually enlightened will also be strong physically, able to build roads and fight wars. This is how Jews lived in days of old and how they are supposed to live when they return to the Land of Israel.
While R. Soloveitchik might have been attracted to dialectical-type thinking, there was no way that he would see the masses as having anything to give the halakhic scholar. The most the Rav speaks of in this essay is that the common man, even in his speech, reflects Torah values, but not that he is superior in any way to the learned ones.[13]
In this essay the Rav offers a beautiful interpretation of the aggadah in Niddah 30b that before birth a fetus learns all of the Torah and then forgets it when he is born:
Rabbi Simlai is apparently saying that every Jew comes into the world with a natural responsiveness to Torah teaching. Every Jew begins with a share in Torah was vested him before his birth, and, though he is made to forget it, it is preserved in the deep recesses of his soul, waiting to be awakened by study and a favorable environment. Scholars, of course, convert this latent knowledge into actual living knowledge; but the simple Jew also has a share. Some members of the Massorah[!][14] community are scholars whose knowledge is well formulated and codified, while others, though unlearned, may be endowed with inspired and intuitive Torah wisdom . . . [W]hen a Jew studies Torah, he finds it native to his spiritual personality and he responds to it readily.
R. Shalom Messas[15] also offers an interpretation of this Aggadah. According to him, it means that before birth God planted in the fetus the ability to study all of the Torah. The angel, who causes him to forget, represents the yetzer hara which distracts people from studying Torah[16]:
אלא האמת דאין כאן לא מלאך ולא שו”ד, והכל רמז ומשל בעלמא, והכוונה היא כמו שאמרנו, שבשעה שיצר השי”ת את העובר, נתן בו כחות עצומים באופן שיכול לעתיד ללמוד כל התורה אם ירצה . . . ויש בכחו ללמוד את כולה, וכשיוצא לאור העולם בא מלאך הוא הטבע, שכאשר מתחיל לצמוח מתערב עמו היצה”ר ומראה לו יופי הטבע והבריאה ונמשך אחריהם, ומעכבים עליו מללמוד תורה
This, too, is a beautiful perspective. I think people will therefore be surprised to learn that R. Messas was actually criticized by two separate authors, each of whom thought that his allegorical understanding of the Talmud was incorrect. In their opinions the Talmud should be taken literally, that the child really does know all of the Torah. Both of these authors refer to a “yeshivishe story” (with minor discrepancies between them) about how a certain baby was born knowing all the Torah, and from the moment of his birth began “talking Torah.”
I always wonder when I hear Torah knowledgeable Jews repeat such nonsense as this yeshivishe story. What does this say about the Torah they learnt that they can be so gullible? I think the best we can say is that there is a difference between having book knowledge and being wise, and it is the latter that appears to be in such short supply. R. Messas replied to one of the authors in Shemesh u-Magen, vol. 2 pp. 322ff, and here is his reply to the second one, from Shemesh u-Magen vol. 3, p. 325.
I think R. Messas deserves a lot of credit for responding in such a polite fashion. Yet I have no doubt that if you spoke to him privately about this, his words would be much harsher in reflecting on how Torah students can be so foolish in believing such nonsensical stories.[17]
2. I have often been asked if I have pictures of R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. As a matter of fact I do, and here are two that I was given by Moshe Weisz of Zurich, who in the 1960’s was a student in the Montreux yeshiva. In the second picture, Weisz is the one handing Weinberg his coat.
There is actually an amazing picture of Weinberg from his time in the prisoner of war camp. I would have loved to include this in my book, but the person who showed it to me refused to allow me to do so. He didn’t think it was respectful to a great Torah sage for people see him in this state. Yet why is this disrespectful? How was Weinberg supposed to look in such circumstances? Was he supposed to have a black suit and hat? Obviously, Jews did not look their normal selves during the years of the Holocaust. Here, for instance, is a picture of the Belzer Rebbe, R. Aharon Rokeach, with R. Herzog. It appears in Shaul Maizlish, Rabanut be-Sa’arat ha-Yamim, p. 61.
The Belzer Rebbe was one of those rebbes who, for religious reasons, did not like to have pictures taken of himself. Yet because R. Herzog exerted so much effort in order to secure permission for the Rebbe to enter the Land of Israel, he agreed to have his picture taken when R. Herzog requested this. (Or Yisrael 21 [5761]. p. 257). This last source also records the following great story, told by R. Aharon about his father, the previous Rebbe R. Yissachar Dov.
פ”א דיבר מרן מוהר”א מענין זה בשם אביו זצ”ל שאמר שבספר יערות דבש כתוב דברים חריפים אודות עשיית תמונה, אבל היות שכל היהודים אינם מקפידים ע”ז אין ברצוני להיות פרוש מהם, שכלם יהיו בגיהנום ואני יחידי יהיה בגן עדן, טוב לי להיות עם כלל ישראל ביחד
(Yes, I know that someone will point out the irony of R. Yissachar Dov saying that he would rather be in gehinnom with the Jewish people when his son chose precisely the opposite course, and left the gehinnom of Europe. Here is not the place to go into this story. Suffice it to say that I find Monday morning quarterbacking very distasteful. In this case it is even worse, as R. Aharon’s children and grandchildren were all murdered.)
Here is a picture of R. Jacob Avigdor, whom I believe was a Belzer, from those difficult days (together with happier pictures).[18] Does anyone think this reduces him by showing how he looked during the Nazi years?
Incidentally, Moshe Weisz also told me about how in November 1965 Weinberg gave a hesped for four recently deceased rabbis, among them R. Yerucham Warhaftig and R. Eliezer Yehudah Finkel. These latter two were good friends of Weinberg, and Weinberg’s friendship with Finkel went back to their youth. After the eulogy Weinberg asked everyone in the room to stand up. They stood silently for around ten seconds and then he asked them to sit down. I presume this was intended as a show of respect rather than as a moment of silence, since the latter could be done sitting down.
Since I have spoken about pictures in this post, let me also include this picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe. It appears courtesy of the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary, and I thank Rabbi Jerry Schwarzbard who first showed it to me a few years ago.
As you can see, it is an Israeli stamp from 1999, and it can now be added to Shnayer Leiman’s collection of stamps of rabbis.[19] Yet for some reason the stamp was never put into circulation. I have been unable to find the reason for this, and there is no mention of the stamp in Maya Balakirsky Katz’s recently published The Visual Culture of Chabad (Cambridge, 2010). There are many Lubavitchers who read the Seforim Blog. Perhaps one of you knows the story of this stamp and why it was never released.
As for Balakirsky Katz’s book, I urge Lubavitchers to read it, without preconceptions, and offer their opinions. It appears, to me at least, to be a quite interesting book. I stress the need for no preconceptions since Balakirsky Katz has now been placed by Lubavitchers in the “enemy camp”, along with other contemporary authors such as R. David Zvi Hillman z”l, David Kamenetsky, David Berger, Bryan Mark Rigg, David Assaf, Menachem Friedman, and Samuel Heilman. Balakirsky Katz angered Chabad with her recent article in the AJS Review 34 (2010; “An Occupational Neurosis: A Psychoanalytic Case History of a Rabbi”), and this article is summarized in the new book (but is only a very small part of the book). She argued that the Rebbe R. Shalom Dov Baer Schneersohn (Rashab) was the rabbi who visited the psychoanalyst Wilhelm Stekel in 1903. In those meetings the rabbi spoke about being sexually molested from his youth until his marriage. He also told about his sexual dreams and how he masturbated,[20] and described how his own brother carried on an improper relationship with his (i.e., the rabbi’s) wife (although it does not appear to have led to actual adultery).
I understand that Lubavitchers will regard Balakirsky Katz’s argument as beneath contempt. They will also regard as scandalous the fact that her essay was published in such a prestigious journal as AJS Review. I would not even ask them to dignify the argument with a response, any more than a non-Lubavitcher should be asked to respond to such claims about a close family member; for a hasid, the feelings for a Rebbe are just like those of a close relative. Yet there is a lot more to the book than the few pages dealing with the rabbi and Stekel, and I wonder how Habad insiders will appraise the rest of what she says.
Appendix
It is common to hear among YU figures the expression “hakhmei ha-mesorah,” referring to authoritative rabbinic spokesmen. Readers can correct me if I am mistaken, but I don’t think that this expression, with the meaning currently applied to it, is part of the traditional rabbinic vocabulary. I also don’t recall ever seeing it in haredi writing. (When the words appear in rabbinic literature they refer to Masoretes.) The first mention of it that I know of appears in R. Soloveitchik’s famous attack on R. Emanuel Rackman regarding nullification of marriage. Needless to say, the expression makes an appearance in R. Schachter’s new book, Divrei ha-Rav. See e.g., p. 233.
This latter reference is part of an article that R. Schachter earlier published in Beit Yitzhak 38 (2006). The reprint in Divrei ha-Rav has two changes from the original. On p. 237 a sentence is added, according to which the Rav stated that in Europe he never heard the expression “Daas Torah.” The second change is that one entire paragraph, on pages 5-6, has been removed. Here is the paragraph.
From this paragraph we see that the Rav’s strong personal opposition to prayer in a synagogue without a mechitzah was not shared by all other rabbis, and that the Rav was willing to show some flexibility in this matter. The case discussed here was not like the other times that the Rav gave permission for a rabbi to take a position at a synagogue without a mechitzah. In those cases the heter was for a rabbinic appointment designed to be for a few years, and during that time the rabbi was supposed to try to convince the synagogue to install a mechitzah. The issue discussed in the Beit Yitzhak article was simply a High Holiday position at a non-mechitzah synagogue in order to make some money.
This paragraph provides important testimony that can balance some of the Rav’s more strident statements in this matter. If anyone can get a straight answer from R. Schachter as to why the paragraph has been removed, please share it with us. I would hate to think that we have here an example of revisionism—in other words, R. Schachter decided to delete the paragraph because he concluded that it is best that people not know this information, or he was responding to others who criticized him for including the paragraph.
With regard to the larger issue of how R. Schachter presents the Rav, Lawrence Kaplan has already noted that there are revisionist aspects of R. Schachter’s presentation of the Rav’s legacy. See his “Revisionism and the Rav,” Judaism, summer 1999, available here.
One aspect of this revisionism that Kaplan does not mention is that while Nefesh ha-Rav has an entire chapter on the State of Israel, there is no mention of the Rav’s view—which was expressed on a number of occasions, as well as publicly before hundreds of people—that there is no halakhic prohibition for Israel to return land to the Arabs.
It certainly says something about the transformation of American Orthodoxy in the last generation that R. Schachter became the one to carry on the Rav’s legacy. Unlike the Rav, R. Schachter is a talmudist and posek, and has no involvement with the broader philosophical and cultural issues of Western Civilization. Yet despite this, he is, by far, the most important and influential rabbi in Modern and Centrist Orthodoxy. When it comes to matters of halakhah, I wonder if there is anyone in the American haredi world who can compare to his wide-ranging knowledge. I have heard him in person and on tape many times, and I continue to be amazed at how he can speak for long periods, without notes, on literally any topic of halakhah. I have never seen anything like it. It is all at his fingertips, and he presents it in a fashion that keeps the audience’s attention. As for the liberal Orthodox, who oppose R. Schachter because of his strong stand against feminist innovations, even they must applaud his leading role in dealing with husbands who refuse to give their wives gittin. This has earned him the opprobrium of the Orthodox lunatic fringe, and one member of this group, Abraham Samuel Judah Gestetner, who styles himself a dayan, has even placed R. Schachter in herem (together with two well-known California rabbis). See here.
Gestetner is also the author of the ridiculous book Megilat Plaster, which attempts to show that R. Jacob Emden’s Megilat Sefer is a forgery perpetrated by the evil maskilim. Here is the title page.
His argument is completely demolished by R. Menachem Mendel Goldstein in Etz Hayyim (Bobov), no. 8(Shevat 5769), pp. 239-266. (Goldstein resides in that bastion of Haskalah known as Kiryas Yoel.). On the very first page of his article, Goldstein complains that the various publishers of Emden’s Megilat Sefer did not consult with gedolei Yisrael in order to determine what should have been censored. In other words, he takes it as a given that the masses need to be protected from what Emden has to say.
הספר מגילת ספר נדפס על ידי אינשי דלא מעלי שאין רוח חכמים נוחה מהם, ולא נתיעצו בגדולי חכמי ורבני דור דור האיך ומה להדפיס ומה להשמיט
To be continued.
[1] There is still a good deal more I plan to say about the whole Garden of Eden story. For now, let me respond to one question. We have seen the medieval philosophical approach that the episode with the snake is to be understood allegorically, and the snake represents the evil inclination. A few people want to know if we can find such an approach in Hazal. I actually think we can. In Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer, ch. 13 (referred to by Maimonides in Guide 2:30), it mentions that the serpent had a rider, Samael (Satan). Since at least some of the Sages identify Satan with the evil inclination, this opens the possibility that the snake in our story is also to be understood this way. Yet I think that most of the Sages probably understood the passage literally. For one example, see Bereishit Rabbah 19:1, where R. Hoshaya states that the snake stood up like a reed, and that he had feet. Whereas the medieval philosophers were reluctant to take literally a text that spoke of a talking snake (and donkey), this did not seem to bother the talmudic Sages.
[2] A fuller discussion of Hirschensohn’s view of evolution will appear in a future post. In the meantime, see his Seder la-Mikra, vol. 1, pp. 76-77:
אין השיטה הדארוונית מתנגדת כלל להתורה בדבר הבריאה בששה ימים, כי הימים בעצמם כל אחד הוא יום שכלו אורך תקופה שלמה . . . כי עדיין לא הי’ עוד השמש לאור יומם לראשון השני והשלישי ובכל זאת נקראים ימים וגם אחרי בריאת המאורות לא ידענו כמה לקח זמן התפתחותם לאותות למועדים לימים ושנים שלנו, ואריכת ימי בראשית לא נדע לנו שכל יום הוא תקופה שלמה
In another twenty years, I wonder if the younger generation will believe us when we tell them that Hirschensohn’s position was accepted throughout the haredi world, and was standard fare in the kiruv movement and in “science vs. Torah” discussions. There was a time when I, and so many others, would never have believed that “young earth” fundamentalism could ever become a binding principle of faith in the wider haredi world, precisely because it would mean rejecting a position that had been so central to the haredi Torah-science reconciliation.
[3] Link”Rationalism and Rabbinic Culture,” pp. 240ff.
[4] Mesorah le-Yosef 4 (2005), p. 183.
[5] This point was noted by Kaplan, Link”Rationalism,” p. 300 n. 225.
[6] See Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, p. 111.
[7] Good and Evil in Jewish Thought (Tel Aviv, 1989), p. 63.
[8] Moses Maimonides (Oxford, 2005), p. 407.
[9] See also my post here where I noted R. Itzele of Ponevezh’s statement that how the Jewish masses feel is more important than what the rabbis think: וכלל ישראל הוא גבוה ונעלה מגדולי התורה . This is obviously diametrically opposed to the haredi conception of Da’as Torah. In my Torah in Motion lectures I discussed how R. Itzele’s conception parallels the Catholic notion of “sense of the faithful.”
In addition to the passages of R. Kook referred to in my earlier post, there are many other sources that one could quote. One that comes immediately to mind is Haym Soloveitchik’s understanding of medieval Jews committing suicide. He sees this as an example of the “sense of the faithful” which was not in line with established halakhah, but which ex post facto had to be justified. Even the murder of one’s children to prevent them from being forcibly apostatized could not be judged according to halakhic texts, or else people regarded as kedoshim would lose this status, an untenable possibility under the circumstances of medieval Jewish life. See ‘Religious Law and Change: The Medieval Ashkenazic Example,’ AJS Review 12 (1987), pp. 205-221. Soloveitchik writes (p. 209):
The magnitude of this halakhic breach is enormous. Whether one is permitted to suffer voluntary martyrdom is highly questionable; suicide is forbidden beyond question, and the permissibility of murder needs no discussion. Thus, if the law were to be followed, the scholars of these communities would have had to rule that all the martyrs—qedoshim, or “holy ones,” as they were called—were not only not “holy,” but they were “self-killers,” and murderers; that not only should they not be buried with honor, but perhaps they should even be denied burial, or at best be buried in the far end of the cemetery where the most vile criminals are interred. Such a conclusion, needless to say, was an emotional impossibility.
After speaking of the “sense of the faithful,”—or what Jacob Katz and Soloveitchik describe as “ritual instinct,” “religious intuition,” and “religious sense”—this article concludes with a couple of paragraphs that I think readers will find very interesting:
I remember my own shock when, after studying Yoreh Deah, I realized that there is no need for separate milk and meat dishtowels, separate dishracks or cabinets, and that if food is served cold, there is no need for separate dishware altogether. Again, there is all the difference in the world between not having hamets in the house (בל יראה ובל ימצא) and the house being what we call pesahdiq.
The simple truth is that the traditional Jewish kitchen and pre-Passover preparations have little to do with halakhic dictates. They have been immeasurably and unrecognizably amplified by popular religious intuition. We all know this, but our religious sense, our religious experience belies this knowledge, and our instincts reject this fact out of hand. To serve cold cuts on a “dairy” dish is treif—everything in Yoreh Deah to the contrary notwithstanding.
The prevalent has not here expanded the normative, it is the normative, and anything less is inconceivable.
Upon hearing one of my TIM lectures, R. Yonasan Rosman sent me a nice example of how the “sense of the faithful” operates independently of, and sometimes even in opposition to, halakhic particulars. It comes from Making of a Godol, p. 1188:
My father also was fond of quoting an interpretation of the Mozhirer Maggid, R. Shmuel Rabinowitz, of the gemara in Massekheth Brakhoth that
כנור היה תלוי למעלה ממטתו של דוד וכו’ ומנגן מאליו
(a fiddle hung above the bed of King David, etc., and it played on its own) to mean that Jewry senses what policy is vital for its existence and does not probe whether the course of action (or inaction) is halakhically sound or not. One of the several examples he gave was by asking rhetorically, “Who gave the Slabodka Yeshiva bahurim the halakhic permission [היתר] to marry at so late an age?” and in answer, he paraphrased the gemara (which he translated into Yiddish), “און דער פידעלע שפילט פון זיך אליין (and the little fiddle plays on its own.”) He was out to prove that when some position is of crucial importance to Jewry—such as increasing the number of intelligent Jews getting in more years of Torah study before going off into their occupations—halakhic minutiae are set aside.
It is precisely sources like this, and the others I have quoted, that are crucial for anyone wishing to challenge the pan-halakhic understanding of Judaism that has taken root in Centrism.
(Regarding yeshiva students marrying later, see R. Shlomo Sofer, Hut ha-Meshulash [Munkacs, 1894], p. 7b, that in late eighteenth-century Frankfurt, yeshiva students would sometimes wait until age thirty to marry.)
[10] For R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg’s essay on Meisels, see Seridei Esh, vol. 4, pp. 345-352.
[11] See Ahiezer: Kovetz Rabani-Torani, vol. 4 (1969), p. 17.
[12] Sotah 21b states: “R. Eliezer says: Whoever teaches his daughter Torah teaches her obscenity. . . . Read, rather: as though he had taught her obscenity” Rashi explains: שמתוכה היא מבינה ערמומית ועושה דבריה בהצנע
Meiri, Sotah 20a explains (and as with the Ralbag quoted in a prior post, apologies to the women reading): שמתוך הבנתה ביתר מגדרה היא קונה ערמימות מעט, ואין שכלה מספיק להבנה הראויה והיא סבורה שהשיגה ומקשקשת בפעמון להראות את חכמתה לכל
[13] There are, of course, many other differences between R. Soloveitchik and R. Kook. From the excerpt printed in The Rav Thinking Aloud, pp. 155-156, we see that the Rav regarded R. Kook as a saintly figure, but not as an intellectual great. Yet this impression was derived from one short conversation. All the gedolim who knew R. Kook had the exact opposite impression. They correctly saw that R. Kook was a master of the entire Torah, in all of its facets. I think you have to go back to Maharal, or perhaps even Nahmanides, to find such a wide-ranging Torah scholar as R. Kook.
Experts on the Rav’s writings can correct me, but the only place I recall where he mentions R. Kook is in On Repentance, p. 161 (and this was not actually published by the Rav himself, but by Pinchas Peli). See incidentally, ibid., p. 224, where the Rav states, referring to the State of Israel: “Bondage to the State can also become idolatry.” When this appeared in 1975, in the original Hebrew edition Al ha-Teshuvah, R. Zvi Yehudah Kook responded with a very sharp statement (later reprinted in Le-Hilkhot Tzibbur):
The Rav in turn said about R. Zvi Yehudah: “If you follow the philosophy of Tzvi Hirsch [!] Kook a Jew outside of Eretz Yisrael is a non-Jew. And this is exactly against the passuk of כי לי כל הארץ. A Jew outside of Eretz Yisrael can be a perfect Jew. Where you accomplish more is up to the individual. . . . Kook comes out with the Ramban [who says that mitzvah observance in the Diaspora is not at the same level as in the Land of Israel] as if he is the only one to whom the Ramban has entrusted the text.” The Rav Thinking Aloud, pp. 225, 229. See also, ibid., p. 154, where he says that R. Zvi Yehudah “has an aura of kedushah about him.”
[14] See Appendix.
[15] Introduction to his Tevuot Shemesh, Even ha-Ezer, and Shemesh u-Magen, vol. 2, p. 321.
[16] See also Maharsha, Niddah 30b.
[17] With regard to what else fetuses are said to be doing in the womb (aside from learning Torah), there is a very strange passage in Otzar ha-Geonim, Berakhot 28b (p. 71). I hesitate to elaborate on it lest this post be blocked by internet filters:
כשאדם כורע במודים צריך לו לכרוע עד ברכיו לפי שהילד בעודו במעי אמו ראשו מונח בין שתי יריכיו והמילה שלו בתוך פיו ובעבור זה צריך לשוח עד ברכיו.
[18] The picture comes from Esther Farbstein’s Be-Seter Ra’am (Jerusalem, 2002).
[19] See here.
[20] With regard to masturbation, R. Simcha Ross called my attention to the responsum printed here by an unnamed talmid hakham. He argues that masturbation is permissible. When Rabbi Ross first alerted me to this (and also expressed his disagreement with the arguments of the author), I thought this was some sort of Purim Torah. But then I examined the responsum, and other responsa on the site, and I could see pretty quickly that this was a serious man, whose arguments were carefully thought out. There are so many books published today that simply repeat what others have said, without offering anything new, that it is a pleasure to see original thinking, Based on his permission to masturbate, he also concludes that homosexual activity is permissible, as long as there is no mishkav zakhur. See here.
(This anonymous author has also placed on his website his commentary on R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz’s Birkat Shmuel, and also many posts discussing talmudic sugyot.)
I showed this responsum to someone. Yet instead of examining the arguments, all he was interested in was the identity of the author, who, as can be seen from various responsa on the site, is clearly from the haredi world. Maybe some readers know who he is, but I think that someone like this has to be in “deep cover.” We all know how the powers that be would destroy anyone who argued that masturbation is permissible. Since this involves a halakhic matter, I am certain the response would be even more severe than how they dealt with Slifkin and Kamenetsky. This talmid hakham would be branded not merely a heretic and a Reformer, but also a sexually dissolute degenerate. So yes, I understand why the author chooses to remain anonymous. My request to readers is as follows: The argument permitting masturbation is so far removed from anything I have ever seen that I would like those with more halakhic learning than myself to examine his teshuvah and let us know if you think there is anything to his argument.
Also, please look at other material on his site. Is it possible that instead of a “progressive” talmid hakham we are dealing here with a Trojan Horse? That is, someone who aims to undermine traditional Judaism from within, much like Saul Berlin attempted to do.



New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 3

New Writings from R. Kook and Assorted Comments, part 3

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.
As I have dealt in this post with Maimonides and the Genesis story, it is as good a time as any to mention what I believe it to be an error that is repeated very often. I saw it most recently in Nathan Aviezer’s article “When Torah and Science Collide” (Tradition, Fall 2009). He writes as follows:

Did God create the universe? Seemingly a simple question, with the answer given in the very first verse of the Torah. Not so, writes Rambam (Guide 2:25), asserting that Torah hashkafa does not require one to believe that God created the universe. But what about the first chapter of Bereshit, which clearly states that God did create the universe? Rambam writes that one may interpret this chapter metaphorically, as an allegory that never happened, because “the paths of interpretation are not closed to us.”

What Maimonides actually says in Guide 2:25 is that it is a religious requirement to believe that God created the universe. He goes so far as to say that if it could somehow be proven that God did not create the universe, this would give the lie to miracles and Torah itself. In Maimonides’ words: “If the philosophers would succeed in demonstrating eternity as Aristotle understands it, the Law as a whole would become void.” In other words, Torah Judaism stands or falls on this issue, for acceptance of Aristotle’s view means the end of miracles, prophecy, and Torah. Fortunately for Rambam, he believes that eternity of the universe cannot be proven, because if it could be proven, that would be the end of Torah Judaism.[1]

What else does Maimonides say in this chapter? He says two things. 1. If Plato’s view, that the world was created from eternal matter,[2] were to be proven, then this would not destroy the Torah, and in fact the Torah could be interpreted in accordance with this.[3] 2. Even Aristotelian eternity of the world could be reinterpreted in accordance with the biblical verses, just as the verses that speak of God’s corporeality are reinterpreted. This is the context in which Maimonides says that “the paths of interpretation are not closed to us.” Maimonides then explains that because of this, we do not reject eternity of the world because of the simple meaning of the biblical verses (which could be reinterpreted). Rather, we reject it because 1. It has not been proven (and indeed Maimonides does not think that it can be proven). 2. Eternity of the world destroys the foundation of the Torah.

In truth, Aviezer’s understanding is not unique to him but is shared by many. They all assume that if Aristotelian eternity was proven, Maimonides would then reinterpret the Torah in accordance with this, for he says that he is indeed able to do so. This viewpoint is held by some of the top Maimonides scholars alive today. From greats of previous years who hold this position, I can add R. Elijah Benamozegh:[4]

ומה מאד הפריז על המדה הרמב”ם שכתב במורה (ח”ב פרק כה) שאלו נתבאר הקדמות במופת הגיוני היינו מחויבים לפרש הכתובים באופן שלא יכחישו המופת
Centuries earlier, Ralbag advanced the same (what I believe to be incorrect) viewpoint.[5] See Milhamot ha-Shem 6:2:1:
גם כן אמר שאם היה מתבאר חיוב קדמות העולם מדרך העיון שכבר יוכרח לפרש מה שבא בתורה שיראה חולק עם זה הדעת באופן שיאות אל העיון.
As I mentioned, all Maimonides says is that if eternity is proven, the words of the Torah could be reinterpreted to accord with eternity. But according to Maimonides, there would be no reason for doing so. This is so for if eternity could somehow be proven, that would be the end of Judaism, as it would be the end of both miracles and divine providence and thus no possibility of a revelation of the Torah. Thankfully, Maimonides believes that eternity cannot be proven.

I don’t understand why so many scholars—whose knowledge of Maimonides is much greater than mine— interpret this chapter to mean that Maimonides would accept Aristotelian eternity when he says specifically that he wouldn’t. (Again, I am speaking of the exoteric meaning of Maimonides’ words, not about any esoteric interpretation of Maimonides.) When I challenged a number of these scholars on this point, they all acknowledged that Maimonides doesn’t actually say that he would accept eternity. However, in defense of what they wrote they stated that if eternity really was proven, what choice then would Maimonides have? He would have to reinterpret the Torah to agree with eternity since we can never imagine him rejecting the Torah. In this, I agree with them. Faced with the reality that eternity has been proven, and despite what he says in Guide 2:25, he would be forced to reinterpret the Torah. Of this, I have no doubt, simply because Maimonides was a very religious man and I can’t imagine him living without the Torah. Yet my point is that he does not say this in the Guide. In fact, he says the exact opposite, that the Torah cannot co-exist with eternity.[6]
Since I have mentioned Aviezer’s article, let me discuss some other things he says. Aviezer writes:

[Stephen J.] Gould was preceded in this approach by Galileo, who is credited with the famous aphorism: “The Bible teaches us how to go to heaven, whereas science teaches us how the heavens go.” (I can’t believe that Galileo really said these words because, while snappy in English, they make no sense in Latin or Italian.)
I don’t know on what basis Aviezer insists that these words don’t make sense in Latin or Italian. If someone said them in Latin or Italian, why shouldn’t they make sense? In fact, the original text is Italian, and is found in Galileo’s “Letter to Grand Duchess Christina.” In it, Galileo writes:

I would say here something that was heard from an ecclesiastic of the most eminent degree [Cardinal Baronius]: ‘That the intention of the Holy Ghost is to teach us how one goes to heaven, not how heaven goes.’”[7]

Here is the original Italian, and one can indeed see that the words are snappy:

“Io qui direi che quello che intesi da persona ecclesiastica, costituita in eminentissimo grado, ciò è l’intenzione delle Spirito Santo essere d’insegnarci come si vadia al cielo, e non come vadia il cielo.”

Even Pope John Paul II adapted this saying, in a passage that looks like it could have been written by R. Hirsch,[8] R. Kook, or R Natan Slifkin:

The Bible itself speaks to us of the origin of the universe and its make-up, not in order to provide us with a scientific treatise, but in order to state the correct relationships of man with God and with the universe. Sacred scripture wishes simply to declare that the world was created by God, and in order to teach this truth it expresses itself in the terms of the cosmology in use at the time of the writer. The Sacred Book likewise wishes to tell men that the world was not created as the seat of the gods, as was taught by other cosmogonies and cosmologies, but was rather created for the service of man and the glory of God. Any other teaching about the origin and make-up of the universe is alien to the intentions of the Bible, which does not wish to teach how heaven was made but how one goes to heaven.[9]

Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, whose prolific writing continues to astound, has recently said the same thing: “There is a difference between science and religion. Science is about explanation. Religion is about interpretation. The Bible simply isn’t interested in how the universe came into being.”[10] R. Chaim Navon put the matter as follow[11]:

התורה אינה מתעניינת במידע מדעי, אלא בערכים רוחניים. לא כך כך אכפת לתורה מנוסחאות מדעיות; אכפת לה הרבה יותר מדרכי התנהגותו של האדם, מאורחות חייו ובעיקר מעבודתו של האדם את בוראו. משום כך, לא כל כך חשוב לדעת האם האדם היה שייך פעם לעולם החיות; מה שחשוב באמת הוא האם האדם הצליח להיחלץ משם.

In other words, the Torah has nothing to tell us when it comes to science. Therefore, there can be no such thing as a conflict between Torah and science.[12] With such an approach, all of the reconciliations between science and the Book of Genesis (e.g., a “day” is really an eon, the dinosaurs are from prior worlds, etc.), which for awhile were popular in Orthodoxy, are really missing the point. The old apologetics assumed that the Torah was in accord with science, and was even teaching scientific truths. It was just that we had to read the text differently than it had been read until now. Yet as with R. Kook, from Sacks’ and Navon’s perspective the creation story is a myth, namely, a tale designed to impart cosmic truths.[13] Although this position has been argued most forcefully by Slifkin, and has found a very receptive audience at synagogues (as I can attest, having tag-teamed with Slifkin as scholars-in-residence), are there any high schools that teach the Creation story in this fashion?

Returning to Aviezer, he writes:

But what about the geocentric theory of the solar system? Wasn’t that scientific theory universally believed for nearly 1500 years, until finally shown by Copernicus and Galileo to be wrong and then replaced by the very different heliocentric theory? The answer is “no!” The geocentric theory was not a scientific theory at all; it was pure theology, unsupported by any scientific evidence. The theory was universally accepted for over a millennium on religious grounds alone. The beliefs of the Church demanded that man’s place must be at the center of the universe.

This is completely incorrect. First of all, the Ptolemaic system of geocentrism was as much science as the Copernican system, and had nothing to do with theology.[14] Secondly, geocentrism long predates the second-century Ptolemy. Aristotle himself was a geocentrist, and in Aristotle’s view, the most important part of the world is not the center! “For the medieval mind, under the influence of Aristotle, the earth as the center of the world was not a position of honor. On the contrary, as Prof. Lovejoy put it, it was ‘the place farthest removed from the Empyrean, the bottom of creation, to which its dregs and baser elements sank. The actual center, indeed, was Hell; in the spatial sense, the medieval world was literally diabolocentric.’”[15]

Aviezer “blames” geocentrism on the Church, and yet Maimonides (and every other Jewish and Islamic thinker of his day) was a geocentrist. Maimonides also had a strong anti-anthropocentric view, as he did not regard man as the central purpose of the universe. This view of Maimonides was an important source for Norman Lamm in his famous article “The Religious Implications of Extraterrestrial Life.” [16] Only those who are convinced that they are the center of the universe would be troubled by the discovery of other inhabited worlds, and that is why Maimonides’ outlook came in so handy for Lamm.

Returning to Maimonides and creation, I want to call attention to a very interesting article by R Meir Triebitz. It appears in Reshimu, vol. 1 no. 2 (2008), the journal of the so-called Hashkafa Circle. See here.

As explained in the preface to the first volume, this “Circle” aims to fill a gap in haredi yeshiva education by focusing on the classics of medieval Jewish philosophy which are pretty much ignored in contemporary haredi society. We thus have a situation where great talmudists and halakhists ignore major themes of Jewish philosophy, which were dealt with at length by the medieval sages. When there are theological discussions in haredi literature, they invariably reflect a very conservative position, often at variance with the major rishonim. I already touched on this issue in my conclusion to The Limits of Orthodox Theology, and if Triebitz and his group are successful this situation could be reversed.

However, they won’t be successful for the simple reason that the outlook of the medieval Jewish philosophers is opposed in so many ways to haredi ideology that it will never become part of the haredi curriculum. In fact, I don’t think it is possible to be a serious student of medieval Jewish philosophy and at the same time identify with any of the regnant haredi worldviews. (You might dress the part and send your children to haredi schools, but that is not the same thing as identifying with a worldview.) This is so for many reasons, primary of which is that medieval Jewish philosophy is about the search for truth. The papal model of haredi society, where the quest for truth is subordinated to the dictates of the religious authority figure, is diametrically opposed to what our great medieval philosophers taught.

Furthermore, the haredi notion that contemporary gedolim can sit in judgment of the views of the Rambam and other greats, and determine that their views are no longer “acceptable”, will be rejected out of hand by all followers of the philosophic tradition. It is therefore not surprising that when Artscroll was presented with a plan to publish Maimonides’ Guide in English, the response was a resounding no, with the explanation given that the Guide should not be found in a haredi home.[17]

Until now, three issues of Reshimu have been published, all available on its website, and it is refreshing to see haredi writers grappling with important philosophical problems. While in many cases the writers are unaware of basic academic studies in these areas, and the journals could be edited in a better fashion (eliminating typos and stylistic problems), there is a great deal to learn from some of the essays. This is especially the case for Rabbi Triebitz, who because of his wide-ranging knowledge and keen insight deserves to be better known. I encourage all to read his articles and those who have time can also watch numerous videos of his shiurim here.

In his article referred to above, Triebitz offers a commentary on Guide 2:13, where Maimonides discusses the various views of creation. It is a very challenging essay which, unless I have overlooked an academic article, presents a new perspective, not an easy task in Maimonidean scholarship. In this essay Triebitz takes his place with the esoteric readers of Maimonides. He concludes that Maimonides does not really believe in creation ex nihilo, since for Maimonides this is a mental concept, not a scientific fact. From a scientific perspective, Maimonides adopts Aristotle’s view of the eternity of the world, but this is not something that could be communicated to the non-sophisticated reader. However, those who grasp what Maimonides is saying will realize that “Creation ex nihilo is not a contending theory of creation . . . but rather a product of man’s thought which introduces a dimension other than the objective physical world pictured by Aristotelian physics.” (p. 145)

Needless to say, this approach of Triebitz also turns Maimonides’ fourth principle, which insists on creation ex nihilo (including the creation of time), into a “necessary belief.” Here is another selection from the essay:

Rambam is therefore intimating that in order to posit God’s complete incorporeality it is necessary to extend the physical world ad infinitum. Since physical infinity is impossible, it is time which must be infinite. Monotheism demands eternity. Law and ethics, however, are based upon Divine free will and Divine free will in turn demands creation ex nihilo. Since creation ex nihilo, as Rambam has already pointed out, cannot have taken place at any time, it cannot be a theory of creation. The antinomy between eternity theories, particularly Aristotle’s, and the irreducible creation ex nihilo is in fact no other than the dichotomy between ontology and ethics (p. 161).

Triebitz returns to Maimonides and creation in Reshimu vol. 1 no. 3 (2009) and once again explains that in his opinion Maimonides doesn’t really believe in creation ex nihilo.

As a consequence, while Rambam’s discussion of creation begins by asserting that the opinion of Torat Moshe is that the world was created by God ex nihilo, by the time that discussion concludes eighteen chapters later (II. 30), he makes the subtle point, casually dropped as if merely incidental, that one of the terms referring to creation in the Torah (qinyan, qeil qoneh) itself “tends toward the road of the belief in . . . eternity” (71b/358). To the astute ear honed to his method of paradoxical exposition, the underlying thrust is clear: He begins with the assertion he believes to be obvious and most fundamental—namely, creatio ex nihilo—after which, following long diversions, he introduces the contrary premise—creatio continua aeterna—by which time the less aware, less initiated reader will likely not notice the subtle discrepancy and the controversial nuance therein entailed: that creation ex nihilo is not creation in time, chiddush nifla. (p. 82)[18]

I now want to return to the Creation story, and how some have argued that it should not be taken literally. I dealt with this in my previous posts and received some e-mails by people referring to other sources that say so, including R. Gedaliah Nadel. I am grateful for all the e-mails, but the reason I didn’t mention these sources, including R. Nadel, is because all of these sources are well known. Since I was not trying to write a comprehensive study of approaches to creation, I didn’t see any need to cite them. In general, my posts here are not like my articles or books, in that I am trying to call attention to interesting ideas and texts, rather than producing complete studies of any topic.

Yet since people are obviously interested in this topic, and took the time to send me the sources, let me thank you by citing a source that has never been referred to in all of the discussions of creation and biblical literalism. It is R. Shlomo Zalman Shag’s Imrei Shlomo, published in Frankfurt in 1866. (I have transliterated his last name as “Shag”, since that is how the Harvard catalog has it.) Here is the title page, where you can see that he identifies himself as a student of R. Isaac of Volozhin.

Worthy of note is that among the subscribers one finds, right next to each other on the list, R. Marcus Lehmann, Abraham Geiger, and Ludwig Philipson.

On p. 5 Shag refers to the trees in the Garden of Eden and the snake and says that it is obvious that none of this can be taken literally:

ואם נקח הפרשה הזאת במאזני השכל, ונפלס את הדברים נראה בעליל שהוא רק דברי רמז וחידה, וכפשוטו לא יכנסו כלל בגדר השכל.

On page 10 he explains how the snake represents the evil inclination, an identification pretty standard among the medievals, and he beautifully explains the connection between the two:

והנחש הוא היצר הרע והתאוה . . . היצה”ר נמשל לנחש מה הנחש כשהולך להזיק אינו ברעש ובהלה רק זוחל על הארץ בלחש ומזיק כן הוא היצר הוא בא לאדם בעצה ותחבולה ומראה עצמו כאוהב עד שיפתה, ואח”כ רובץ על צווארי בני אדם כנחש הסובב על הדבר מכל צדדיו.

On p. 21 he even understands the Tower of Babel in non-literal fashion:

ונאמר לראות את העיר ואת המגדל. את העיר זו יושבי העיר כמו העיר ננוה, העיר שושן, הכונה הוא על יושביה, והמגדל הוא המעשים שעשו, נגד רצון השי”ת, כי הם היו מתגאים לעשות להם שם בארץ. והשי”ת שונא גאים ומשפיל אותם, לכן ויפץ ה’ אותם משם על פני כל הארץ.

There have been many understandings of the Tower of Babel, and I don’t want to go into that now, but let me at least mention one of the strangest interpretations out there. R. Menachem Tziyoni (fifteenth century), in his commentary on the episode, claims that the Tower was actually a flying object[19]:

והמגדל הוא הפורח באויר אשר ראו בשמים

At least this is how Tziyoni is usually understood. Yet it is possible that it is not to be taken literally, and I found a post that says precisely this. See here.

Pre-modern man had many stories of those who were able to rise above the ground, either by flying or being transported by God. We find this in Jewish literature as well. See, for example, Bereishit Rabbah 44:8 which focuses on the words in Gen. 15:5 ויוצא אותו החוצה. What does it mean that God brought Abraham outside? The Midrash first quotes R. Joshua in the name of R. Levi:”Did he then lead him forth outside of the world . . . It means, however, that He showed him the streets of heaven.” In response to this R. Judah b. R. Simeon said in the name of R. Johanan: “He lifted him up above the vault of heaven.” Seen in context, as a response to R. Joshua’s explanation, it seems to me that R. Judah b. R. Simeon’s statement must be understood literally. In other words, Abraham was literally transported into the Heavens. See Etz Yosef ad loc: ס”ל דהחוצה כמשמעו שהוא ממש חוץ לעולם

The most famous example of human flight in Jewish literature is that of Jesus. As described in Toledot Yeshu, Jesus was able to use God’s holy name in order to fly, and was brought down by Judas Iscariot who could also fly and defiled Jesus (which caused Jesus to lose his special powers). According to one tradition, he defiled Jesus by urinating on him, but another version has him engaging in homosexual sex while in the air, which in context certainly means rape.

וטנפו במשכב זכור . . . שטנפו במשכב זכור וכיון שטנפו ונפל הזרע על יש”ו הרשע נטמאו שניהם ונפלו לארץ שניהם כאחד

Incidentally, according to Toldot Yeshu this explains why Judas Iscariot is so hated in Christianity:

וכל חכמי הגוים יודעים סוד זה וכופרין אותו ומקללים ומחרימים יהודה אסקריוטו

See Samuel Krauss, Das Leben Jesu nach Juedischen Quellen (Berlin, 1902), pp. 48, 74.

As Morris Goldstein has noted, the second century Acts of Peter describes how Simon Magus flew over Rome, astounding all the onlookers. But Peter, through his prayer to God, was able to force Simon down, a crash landing that caused him to break his leg.[20]

Samael (Satan) can also fly, at least so we are told in the Targum to Job 28:7: סמאל דפרח היך עופא

This should not surprising as according to Isaiah 6:2 the Seraphim fly (with wings), and Hagigah 16a tells us that both angels and demons fly (also with wings).

Midrashic texts speak of two Egyptian magicians who created wings for themselves that enabled them to fly.[21] Rabbinic sources also tell us that Balaam knew how to fly.[22]

With reference to Jesus, it is interesting to note that many Jews actually believed that he performed wonders. However, they attributed it to his knowledge of God’s holy name. Why didn’t they simply assume that all the stories about him were fiction, as modern Jews do? I think the answer is that since all of their neighbors believed the stories, and the miracles Jesus performed are said to have been done before crowds of people, many Jews therefore assumed that these tales must be historically accurate.

In general, it is a common pre-modern assumption that if a group of people, even a group from generations ago, claimed to have witnessed something, that this is a sign that it indeed took place. Today, however, we know how false this argument is. We can cite many examples of mass delusion, not to mention the fact that stories of what people in previous generations witnessed are not actually examples of many people testifying to something, but of one person, the writer, claiming as much.

The stories of Jesus that are found in Toldot Yeshu do not appear in the Talmud, but there are other stories of him found there. However, these stories place Jesus a good 150 years before he actually lived. I say this because the Talmud identifies Jesus as a student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah, who lived circa 120 BCE. In Nahmanides’ disputation, paragraphs 22, 57, he points out that the Christians are wrong on their dates. (R. Judah Halevi, Kuzari 3:65 mentions that Jesus was the student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah and says nothing about the chronological problem. The standard Hebrew edition of the Kuzari is censored [self-censored?], but the reference to Jesus can be seen in the original Arabic published in Kafih’s edition, and also in Hirschfeld’s English translation.)

Others, such as R. Jehiel of Paris in his debate, used the chronological discrepancy to argue not that the Christians are wrong on their dates, but that the Jesus of the Talmud is not Jesus of Nazareth. I used to think that no one actually believed this, but resorted to this argument because it was a good way to deflect the Christian attacks that the Talmud defamed Jesus. However, I recently saw that Tosafot ha-Rosh, Sotah 47a, in a completely non-apologetic comment, assumes that the Talmud refers to two different men named Jesus. See also Meiri, Seder ha-Kabbalah, ed. Havlin (Jerusalem-Cleveland, 1992), pp. 69-70, and especially Havlin’s lengthy note. This was also Rabbenu Tam’s opinion, although it has been censored out of our Talmud. Take a look at Shabbat 104b, Tosafot s.v. Ben Stada in the Bomberg Venice 1520 edition, and compare to the standard Vilna edition.



Why does the Babylonian Talmud identify Jesus as a student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah if Jesus lived more than a century later? I think the answer is obvious, namely, that the Talmud had very little knowledge of who Jesus was, and thus did not know when to date him.[23] In fact, the famous story of R. Joshua ben Perahyah pushing Jesus away (Sanhedrin 107b, found in the Soncino translation) is actually a later development of an earlier story that is found in the Jerusalem Talmud. The Jerusalem Talmud’s version does not mention Jesus.[24]

This raises the question of the Talmud as a source of history, which is too large to go into here. But I do want to call attention to what R. Hershel Schachter states in a recent shiur, which I am sure will be surprising to many. The shiur (“Jewish Heritage Tour of Italy, part 2) can be found here.

Beginning at minute 66 R. Schachter acknowledges that the Talmud can err in matters of history. In support of this viewpoint, he cites R. Zerahyah ha-Levi (the Baal ha-Maor) at the beginning of Rosh ha-Shanah and R. Solomon Luria to Sanhedrin 52b. Here is an excerpt:

Today you have people [who] are considered Orthodox and they say [that] the Gemara made a mistake in history. There are a lot of people like that. . . . This is an ongoing debate. Just seventy years ago, before the Second World War, some of the rabbanim in Europe wrote in their seforim [that] it’s a well known fact that the bayit sheni was much more than 420 years. There is 150 years missing there. . . . We are used to this already. When Rabbenu Azariah min ha-Edomim (De Rossi) came out with his sefer Meor Einayim . . . and he said that maybe the chachmei ha-Gemara were wrong in history . . . many rabbanim were so upset they wanted to make a herem against him. I think they did make a herem; I am not sure. . . . Today, everybody is used to this. We assume that the Gemara is not necessarily expert on history, The Gemara can make mistakes in history. Today it’s not assumed to be apikorsus to say [this]. . . . If Azariah De Rossi would have printed his sefer today, no one would have been so excited about it.

For a hasidic perspective on this matter, which is very much in line with modern approaches to Aggadah, see R. Shlomo of Radomsk, Niflaot ha-Tiferet Shlomo (Petrokov, 1923), nos. 73-74. R. Shlomo stresses that when the Talmud tells a story, it does not matter if the facts are contradicted by other talmudic stories, because what is important is not the story itself, which need not be historically accurate, but rather the lesson to be instilled.

ובזה יש ליישב פליאה גדולה אשר יש לשאול, מה זה שמצאנו בכל הש”ס ומדרשים מסופרים מעשיות ומופתים מתנאים ואמוראים בשינוי נוסחאות מאד, זה יאמר כן היה המעשה, וזה יאמר כן . . . דאין אנו דנין על החומר, רק על הצורה, ולפי הצורה המוכנת בענין הזה, באופן זה מספרים חז”ל את המעשה והסיפור, וממ”נ אם להלל ולשבח ולפאר את התנא, או בהיפוך לגנות הרשע, הלא הצורה מוכנת לכ”א . . . ואם להשיג מטרת ותכלית ענין הנרצה בהסיפור הזה לעורר רושם ורעיון להשומע להבין דברי תורה ולעורר אמונת השגחה וכחן וגבורתן של הצדיקים, ג”כ האיכא, ומאי איכפת לן אם החומר מונע, החומר בטל לגבי הצורה, לכן אין נ”מ בין אופן זה לנוסחא אחרת כי הכל תורת אמת.

Returning to the subject of Jesus and R. Joshua ben Perahyah, I think readers might find another text interesting. It is by the kabbalist R. Moses Valle, who was an older colleague of R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto in Padua. (Although Luzzatto was the leader of their circle, and Valle was thus subservient to him, I don’t know if it correct for the title page to describe Valle as a “student” of Ramhal. I grant that even Italian texts describe Valle as such. See R. Mordechai Samuel Ghirondi, Toledot Gedolei Yisrael [Trieste, 1853], p. 230.)

Without seeing the actual text, I don’t think people will believe me if I tell them what he writes, so here is the relevant page from Sefer ha-Likutim p. 242.

According to Valle, Jesus was meant to be Mashiach ben Joseph, but the needless hatred of the Jewish people prevented him from assuming this role. This is such a strange passage that I am impressed that the editor did not censor it prior to publication. For discussion of it, see here.

Interestingly, R. Abraham Abulafia appears to also have identified Jesus as Messiah ben Joseph. See Moshe Idel, Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah (Albany, 1988), p. 53.

To be continued.



[1] I have explained Rambam according to the exoteric meaning, which is the level that Aviezer is arguing on. Aviezer makes no reference to a possible esoteric teaching.
[2] In the recently published The Rav Thinking Aloud on the Parsha: Sefer Bereishis, p. 8, the Rav misspoke and referred to this conception as the Aristotelian theory.
[3] Thus, I believe that both Rabad in his hassagah to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7 and also Kafih in his commentary ad loc., are mistaken in thinking that Maimonides, in listing different types of heretics, is referring here to one who believes in creation from eternal matter. When Maimonides writes about one who does not believe that God is ראשון וצור לכל he is not referring to time but causation. In fact, this formulation of Maimonides is also in accord with Aristotle’s view (that is, how Aristotle was understood by the medievals) that the world is both eternal and ontologically dependant on God. Nowhere in the Mishneh Torah does Maimonides affirm creation, ex nihilo or otherwise. This was recognized by R. Jacob Emden who sees the Mishneh Torah as more radical in this regard than the Guide. See Mitpahat Sefarim (Lvov, 1870) pp. 64-65 (where he also accuses Ibn Ezra of believing in eternity). See also Emden, Otzar ha-Tov (in Birat Migdal Oz [Zhitomir, 1874], p. 22a, who writes, regarding Maimonides’ use in the Mishneh Torah of a proof that assumes the world’s eternity:

לו ידעו הרבנים התלמודיים בפלוסופיא לא היה [!] שותקים לו בכאן

The Maharal, Netivot Olam,p. 224, writes:

והנה בנה עיקר ראייתו על התנועה הנצחית וזהו הפך האמונה שאין אנו מודים בזאת ההנחה. וא”כ כבר נפל הבנין בכללו

That the Guide is actually a theologically more conservative work than the Mishneh Torah has recently been argued by Charles Manekin, “Possible Sources of Maimonides’ Theological Conservatism in His Later Writings,” in Jay M. Harris, Maimonides After 800 Years (Cambridge, 2007), pp. 207-230. One should not forget that the Maimonidean controversy was precipitated by the Mishneh Torah, in particular Sefer ha-Mada, not the Guide.

[4] See the passage quoted from him in Yitzhak Shouraqui, Masoret be-Idan ha-Moderni (Tel Aviv, 2009), p. 34. On p. 44, Benamozegh writes that Ralbag, R. Hasdai Crescas, and R. Nissim did not believe in creation. What he means is that Ralbag did not believe in creation ex nihilo. Crescas did not really believe in creation at all, seeing the universe as eternal, that is, eternally created by God. This means eternal ontological dependence of all existence on the Creator. However, Crescas does believe that our world, as opposed to the universe as a whole, was created at a certain instant. See Warren Zev Harvey, Physics and Metaphysics in Hasdai Crescas (Amsterdam, 1998), pp. 18-19. As I pointed out in Limits, both Ralbag and Crescas stand in opposition to Maimonides’ Fourth Principle. Yet I am unaware of R. Nissim expressing a radical view regarding creation. Does anyone know what he is referring to?
[5] R. Judah Alfakhar also seems to make this error. See Kovetz Teshuvot ha-Rambam ve-Iggerotav (Leipzig, 1859), vol. 3, p. 1b.
[6] I thank Lawrence Kaplan for discussing this matter with me, although this should not imply that he agrees with what I have written.
[7] See here.
[8] Here is what Hirsch writes in Collected Writings, vol. 7, p. 57 (cited by Slifkin, here):

Jewish scholarship has never regarded the Bible as a textbook for physical or even abstract doctrines. In its view the main emphasis of the Bible is always on the ethical and social structure and development of life on earth; that is, on the observance of laws through which the momentous events of our nation’s history are converted from abstract truths into concrete convictions. That is why Jewish scholarship regards the Bible as speaking consistently in “human language;” the Bible does not describe things in terms of objective truths known only to God, but in terms of human understanding, which is, after all, the basis for human language and expression
[9] See here.
[10] See here.
[11] See here.
[12] On this issue, I find mid-twentieth-century Orthodox reconciliations of Torah and science very interesting in that the authors do not seem to be looking over their shoulders, worried about the reaction of the more literalist segment of Orthodoxy. R. Joseph Hertz’s essays following the book of Genesis in his edition of the Pentateuch are a good example of this. Another is R. Samuel Rosenblatt, Our Heritage (New York, 1940), pp. 174-181, in essays entitled “How the World Came Into Being” and “The Garden of Eden, Fact or Fiction.” You can see the essays here, or below.


While reading Rosenblatt’s essays, ask yourself if they could be published in an Orthodox newspaper or shul bulletin today. Note in particular Rosenblatt’s assumption that the Torah makes use of “theories about the nature of the physical world and the details of its generation that were current at the time the Bible was written.” Also relevant to the general issue are his essays on Noah and the Flood, and the Tower of Babel.
[13] For more on “myth”, see my earlier post.

There I wrote:

While in the popular mind myth often is identical with fairy tale, this is not how scholars understand myths. For them, myths communicate cosmic truths in non-historical story form, and they are not synonymous with legends. My dictionary explains myth as “a usually traditional story of ostensibly historical events that serves to unfold part of the world view of a people or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon.”

S. of On the Main Line called my attention to Shadal’s letter in Iggerot Shadal, p. 661, where he speaks about the religious value of “illusions,” that is, matters that are not factual, but nevertheless have great religious value. In this letter we see Shadal, the great opponent of Maimonides, nevertheless adopting his own version of “necessary truths.”

שאין הריליגיאון חביבה לא-ל בשביל אמתתה, רק בשביל תועלתה בתקון המדות, ועל כן אין צורך שיהיו כל דבריה אמתיים, ושאין לנו עכ”ז להרחיק א-להיותה, ושאין להרחיק מהא-ל הגדת דברים בלתי אמתיים כי להגיד כח מעשה בראשית לבשר ודם א”א, ולא יתכן קיום החברה והצלחת האדם בידיעת האמת, אלא באיללוזיון, כי כן הטבע (אשר הוא בלא ספק רצון הא-ל) מרמה אותנו בענינים הרבה.

[14] Rather than refer to any number of books on the history of astronomy, here is what the Wikipedia entry on “Geocentric Model” has to say:

Adherence to the geocentric model stemmed largely from several important observations. First of all, if the Earth did move, then one ought to be able to observe the shifting of the fixed stars due to stellar parallax. In short, if the earth was moving the shapes of the constellations should change considerably over the course of a year. If they did not appear to move, the stars are either much further away than the Sun and the planets than previously conceived, making their motion undetectable, or in reality they are not moving at all. Because the stars were actually much further away than Greek astronomers postulated (making movement extremely subtle), stellar parallax was not detected until the 19th century. Therefore, the Greeks chose the simpler of the two explanations. The lack of any observable parallax was considered a fatal flaw of any non-geocentric theory. Another observation used in favor of the geocentric model at the time was the apparent consistency of Venus’ luminosity, thus implying that it is usually about the same distance from Earth, which is more consistent with geocentrism than heliocentrism. In reality, that is because the loss of light caused by its phases compensates for the increase in apparent size caused by its varying distance from Earth. Once again, Aristotle’s objections of heliocentrism utilized his ideas concerning the natural tendency of earth-like objects. The natural state of heavy earth-like objects is to tend towards the center of the earth and to not move unless forced by an outside object. It was also believed by some that if the Earth rotated on its axis, the air and objects in it (such as birds or clouds) would be left behind.

[15] Norman Lamm, “The Religious Implications of Extraterrestrial Life,” Tradition 7 (Winter 1965) pp. 27-28.
[16] A more academic version of this article appeared in JQR 55 (Jan. 1965), and some points in it were subjected to strong criticism by Harry Wolfson, ibid., 56 (Jan. 1966). Lamm told me that he felt it was a great honor for a young scholar like himself to be criticized by Wolfson. Similar sentiments have been expressed by students who were criticized in class by the Rav and Saul Lieberman.
[17] See here and here (note how the mention of R. [David] Feinstein has been removed from the first source).
[18] One reader asked me if there are traditional sources that speak of God creating things in the world after the initial creation. As a matter of fact, Isaiah 65:17 reads: “For, behold, I create new heavens and a new earth; and the former things shall not be remembered, nor come into mind.” A midrash quoted in R. Kasher’s Torah Shelemah, vol. 1, p. 123, reads as follows:

באותה שעה [כשעברו את הים] ברא להם הקב”ה ארץ חדשה כמו בבריאת העולם בששת ימי בראשית.

These two sources are cited by R. Judah Leib Zlotnick, “Bereishit” bi-Melitzah ha-Ivrit (Jerusalem, 1938), p. 27.

[19] Interestingly, R. Jonathan Eybschuetz, Tiferet Yehonatan, parashat Noah (p. 11a in the standard edition), claims that the builders of the tower were trying to make it so high that they could then launch a spaceship from it that would reach the moon (or perhaps I should say “the sphere of the moon”). This would then become their new home!

וזה היה כונת דור הפלגה ג”כ שבקשו לקבוע מושבם בכדור ירחי ששם יהיו נצולים ממבול וחשבו לעשות ע”י ספינה הנ”ל אפס כיצד יגביהו אותו הספינה למעלה מאויר העכור ולזה חשבו לבנות מגדל גבוה כל כך עד למעלה האויר ההוא ומשם יוכלו להשתמש בספינה הנ”ל לשוט באויר עד כדור הירחי.

[20] See Goldstein, Jesus in the Jewish Tradition (New York, 1950), p. 302 n. 34.

[21] See Louis Ginzberg, Legends of the Jews, vol. 3, p. 28.
[22] See Targum Ps.-Jonathan, Numbers 31:8, Zohar, vol. 3, pp. 194a-194b, Ginzberg, Legends, vol. 6, p. 144.
[23] For more on R. Joshua and Jesus, see Markham Judah Geller, “Joshua B. Perahyah and Jesus of Nazareth: Two Rabbinic Magicians” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Brandeis University, 1974).
[24] See Peter Schäfer, Jesus in the Talmud (Princeton, 2007), ch. 3. Some readers might also enjoy Herb Basser’s lecture, “How Reliable are the Talmudic Teachings on Jesus,” available here.

The original version of Sanhedrin, which mentions Jesus, is not found in the Artscroll edition. In other words, the Artscroll Talmud, including the Hebrew version, is still a censored, and thus defective, edition. I find this quite amazing. Is there a valid reason why Artscroll has not returned the Talmud to its pristine text? Speaking of internal censorship, here is another amazing example. Gittin 57a has a reference to Jesus, and this is preserved in the Munich manuscript and other uncensored mss. (and recorded in the Soncino translation). Here is a copy of the Munich manuscript. Look three lines above the large word אתרנגול

It states that Jesus was raised from the dead through incantations: אסקי’ לישו בנגיד’. In the standard text this has been altered to read, instead of Jesus, לפושעי ישראל. Now here is a copy of Meir S. Feldblum’s Dikdukei Soferim on Gittin. See how he wouldn’t even record what the Munich edition stated, and instead advises the reader to examine Hashmatot ha-Shas!


This book was published in 1966 and he was afraid to give us the reading in the Munich ms., yet Rabbinovicz in nineteenth-century Germany has no problem giving us the correct reading in the earlier mentioned story from Sanhedrin (as well as in the other talmudic passages where Jesus is mentioned). Does Feldblum’s action make any sense? I wonder if some future historian will be led to mistakenly conclude that anti-Semitism was more of a problem in 1966 America than nineteenth-century Germany. Fortunately, last year a new edition of Dikdukei Soferim on Gittin was published. Here is the relevant page where we are told what the Munich ms. really says.