Censorship: The Autobiography of R. Eliyahu David Rabinowitz, ADeReT

Censorship: The Autobiography of R. Eliyahu David Rabinowitz, ADeReT

There are a handful of rabbinic autobiographies, R. Yehuda Areyeh of Modena, Hayyei Yehudah, R. Yaakov Emden, Megillat Sefer, and a few others.[1] One of the more recent rabbinic autobiographies is that of R. Eliyahu David Rabinowitz, otherwise known as Aderet. This work, was first published in the journal, Ha-Peles edited by Aderet’s nephew, Eliyahu Akiva Rabinowitz. Only a portion of the autobiography appears in Ha-Peles. However, the editor did give us the title of this work for posterity. Although Aderet did not title the work, in Ha-Peles it appears under the title, Seder Eliyahu, this title remains today.[1a] In reality, Seder Eliyahu is one part of three part work, the second part, Nefesh David, records various customs (and has been reprinted a few times), and the third part, regarding how to handle Aderet’s body after his death, Achar Eliyahu or Acharei David, apparently was never written.

Aderet’s autobiography was first published in its entirety in 1983 by Mossad ha-Rav Kook. The Mossad received the manuscript from Aderet’s grandson. As will become apparent, much of what was written, prior to 1983, regarding Aderet is lacking because prior to its publication in 1983, his autobiography was virtually unknown. As an aside, the New Encyclopaedia Judaica reuses the article on Aderet from the original Encyclopaedia Judaica and is but one example of the shortcomings of the New Encyclopaedia, for more examples see Dr. Leiman’s critique here, and Dr. Havlin’s critique here, and Dr. Richler’s critique here of the New Encyclopaedia Judaica.

The 1983 edition, however, has been out-of-print for years, and this year, some of Aderet’s desendents republished Seder Eliyahu (additionally, they also reprint Nefesh David in this volume). The editors of this new edition thank Mossad ha-Rav Kook for allowing them to reprint this work. But, in their introduction, they argue that Aderet “never intended to publish this work and allow others to read it, instead, it was meant for his family.” Seder Eliyahu, Jerusalem, 2010, at 7 (“Jer. ed.” or “New Edition”). Based upon this assertion, the editors of this edition justify “removing various passages that were never intended for outsiders to read.” Id. at 9. They explain that whenever they removed text “three lines (- – -) serve to indicate missing text.” Id. As we shall see they are inconsistent at best at using the three dash device and many instances of removal are not noted.

Regarding the claim that Aderet never intended this book to be published. The original publication in 1983 includes the entire text with no omissions. Recall that this text was obtained by Mossad ha-Rav Kook from Aderet’s grandson, we have no indication that he objected to publishing the entire text. Moreover, the first time the autobiography (partially) appeared in Ha-Peles much of the “offensive” material was included. Recall that Aderet’s nephew was the editor of Ha-Peles and he saw no need to censore anything. Finally, although there may be some indications that an autobiography was merely written for family members and not intended for broader publication, this device is common in autobiographies. R. Emden also implies that he didn’t intend his autobiography to be widely distributed, but as Dr. Schacter demonstrates, Emden wanted others to read it.[2] Indeed, according to Schacter, R. Emden’s autobiography can be classified as “that of ‘autobiography as polemic.'” As Emden writes of his purpose, “[i]n order that the sun of my righteousness should shine forth . . . [and because] many of [my enemies] libelous writings will certainly remain extant in the world for some time. Therefore, necessity has compelled me to clarify my case before God and man. . . . Behold [this autobiography] will serve as a vindication for me, for my children and my descendants.”[3] Thus, “there is equally no question that the overriding primary impetus behind Megillat sefer was a desire on the part of Emden to clear his name and vindicate himself in his controversy with Eybeschutz,” and “[t]here is no doubt that it is the Emden-Eybeschutz controversy that serves as the ‘center of gravity’ for” Megillat Sefer.[4] Of course, for R. Emden to be publicly vindicated, presumably the public would need to be aware of the work.[5]

With Emden’s motives in mind, it is important to distinguish Aderet’s work. While Aderet includes descriptions of others in his work, and, at times, some of these descriptions are far from flattering, it does not appear that Aderet was looking for vindication or had a polemic motive in mind. While Aderet did not get along with his constituents in Ponovitch, that dispute was mainly surrounding Aderet’s salary and how the community treated him. Aderet wasn’t involved in any global disputes like the Emden-Eybeschutz controversy and thus Aderet wasn’t required to vindicate himself. Moreover, Aderet ultimately came out on top, becoming Chief Rabbi of the Ashkenazim in Jerusalem. Thus, he was well-respected and had no reason to resurrect his image – his image was already good.

Perhaps a better understanding of some of the material as it relates to others in Seder Eliyahu may be better understood by looking at Marcus Mosley’s comments[6] and quote from Rousseau:

Autobiography operates upon an entirely different set of criteria. For the autobiographer, the significance of the other is determined solely by the role that he or she plays in the formation of the self, regardless of social standing. Thus Rousseau, in the “Neuchatel” variant of the preamble to the Confeinddow: “The relationships I have had with several people compel me to speak as freely of them as of myself. I can only succeed in making myself known by making them known also.” Many of the more decisive encounters with the other in the shaping of the autobiographer’s self occur in the years of childhood and adolescence. Parents, teachers, schoolmates, and domestic staff may thus achieve a prominence in the autobiography that would, in the memoir, be reserved for generals and prime ministers, renowned men of letters, and so on. This is not to say that the formative encounters with the other in an autobiography are restricted to the historically obscure. But when the great do drift in and out of the pages of an autobiography, it is often not on account of the qualities that granted them this status that they are recalled.

Thus, Aderet’s comments about others, most notably regarding R. Yitzhak Elchonon Spector, may be understood as merely providing insight into Aderet’s own life rather than commenting on R. Spector, for example.

The new edition of Seder Eliyahu, however, leaves out much of Aderet’s comments about others, depriving the reader of fully understanding the Aderet as well as distorting history. We will provide all the examples of where the new edition has altered or removed material from the 1983 edition.

Biography of Aderet

The basic outlines of Aderet’s biography are not in dispute. Here are the highlights. Aderet was born, with his twin, on the first day of Shavout in 1843. His father was a rabbi and Aderet’s family were descendant from famous rabbinic figures from both his father’s and mother’s side. When he was five, his mother died and his father remarried. At twelve, Aderet began writing his first sefer, and began wearing tefflin for his entire twelth year. At thirteen, he had his bar mitzvah and, contrary to the custom, was allowed to read the haftorah for the first day of Shavout. This haftorah is typically reserved for the rabbi or a talmid hakham due to the content of the haftorah. But, Aderet’s father argued that it was appropriate for his son to read the haftorah. Soon after his bar mitzvah he completed his first work with his twin brother, Shevet Achim. At fifteen he became engaged to girl, and soon after was appointed rabbi of Ragali. The engagement didn’t end well. His fiancee’s mother died and the step-mother was lax in her observance and the marriage was called off. But, in due course, Aderet was engaged again to the daughter of a prominent family in Ponovitch. This time, Aderet went through with the wedding. He remained in Ponovitch, supported by his in-laws, and studied in a small bet midrash. In 1875, Aderet was selected to be the rabbi of Ponovitch. In 1893, the town of Mir approached Aderet to become its rabbi. Aderet accepted. Ponovitch, however, wanted its rabbi to remain, but, after receiving advice from various rabbis, eventually, Aderet left and went to Mir. In 1901 he was invited and accepted to become Chief Rabbi of the Ashkenazim in Jerusalem. On the 3rd of Adar I, 1905, Aderet died in Jerusalem.

Aderet is known as having a phenomenal memory. He was also a prolific author, but much of his writings remained in manuscript. In the last decade or so, many of his books have been published, a bibliography of which will appear soon.

The above provides a basic outline of Aderet’s biography, but a close examination of his autobiography provides additional detail.

Autobiography of Aderet

There are a few important gaps in Aderet’s biography that can be filled only by utilizing his autobiography. For example, Aderet’s father’s second wife. If one reads some of the biographies, she is mentioned only in passing. But, Aderet explains she was no minor figure. To the contrary, it appears that Aderet’s step-mother and his father had a horrible marriage. Indeed, Aderet couldn’t stand her and he was especially bothered the way she treated his father. After Aderet’s father died, Aderet immediately left town as he couldn’t bear remaining with her. He turned down his father’s position as rabbi of Vilkomer because that would mean he would have to live in the same city as his step-mother. Aderet recalls bitterly how he sped home once and therefore missed out on meeting various rabbis only to find out that his step-mother hadn’t told anyone he was coming and no one was there when Aderet returned causing him to miss meeting the rabbis and not seeing family.

Some biographies make it appear that Aderet had a great relationship with the people of Ponovitch. These biographies point to the fact that when Mir approached him, Ponovitch tried its hardest to keep Aderet. But, in his autobiography Aderet explains how horrible the people of Ponovich were to him. They paid him almost nothing and even that little amount wasn’t always timely. He was so poor that he didn’t have his own bed and had to sleep on a few chairs. Although Aderet had some of his children die and others were sick, for the most part, the people of Ponovitch made his life even more difficult. The town didn’t help when he had sick children. One particularly shocking incident was one of the Ponovitch community members became gabbi. Aderet didn’t like waiting between Kabbalat Shabbat and Ma’ariv because waiting only meant that people ended up talking and not acting as one should in Shul. The gabbi, however, wanted to talk and wanted a break. Thus, when Aderet asked the hazzan to immediately begin ma’ariv, the gabbi told the hazzan “it’s not time yet.” This type of maltreatment by the Ponovitch community members was not uncommon. Therefore, when Mir came knocking, and, although Mir was a significantly smaller community, Aderet wanted to get out of Ponovitch and accepted Mir’s offer.

As Aderet was almost always looking to leave Ponovitch, he competed for a job in Riga. And, although he was the most qualified candidate, the position was given to someone else. Aderet lost out on the position because R. Yitzhak Elchonon Spector backed Aderet’s rival. Aderet was extremely upset at R. Yitzhak Elchonon and even sent a very nasty letter to R. Yitzhak Elchonon. R. Yitzhak Elchonon’s reaction was that “the letter was so disrespectful that but for Aderet’s reputation as a talmid hakham, he [R. Yitzhak Elchonon] would see to it that Aderet couldn’t even get a job a beadle in a bet midrash.” Aderet was so embittered by this episode he remarks that he never forgave R. Yitzhak Elchonon. This was not the only time Aderet had a falling out with R. Yitzhak Elchonon. At a rabbinic conference, led by R. Yitzhak Elchonon, there was a miscommunication which R. Yitzhak Elchonon took personally. As such, R. Yitzhak Elchonon refused to entertain anything else during the conference and the conference was totally unsuccessful. Aderet was appalled that R. Yitzhak Elchonon’s personal feelings didn’t allow the conference to produce anything of value.

Aside from making Aderet’s life miserable, the treatment of the town of Ponovitch also forced Aderet to allow his son-in-law, R. Abraham Isaac Kook, to leave and take up his own rabbinic position. Although Ponovitch had promised Aderet a higher salary, the town never came through and thus Aderet couldn’t support his daughter and son-in-law. In his autobiography, he describes how heartbroken he was when his son-in-law and daughter left.

Comparison of the New Edition and 1983 Edition of Aderet’s Autobiography

As noted above, the editors of the New Edition provide that they have removed material from Seder Eliyahu, and that they have noted any time anything is removed. This is false. Although it is true that the editors have removed material but they have not always noted when they did so. At times removed material is noted by “- – – ” in the text, many times there is no indication that anything is missing. Moreover, the editors are inconsistent when they alter the text. That is, in correcting typos or when removing abbreviation, sometimes they note they are altering the text and other times they do not. Of course, this omission is less serious than wholesale removal of text, but consistency is still important. For example, in the 1983 edition many persons are only referred to in abbreviated form, while in the New Edition their full name is used; thus the original reads “my uncle רפ”ק” while in the New Edition it reads “my uncle Rabbi Pinchus Cantor.” The editors don’t note that they have inserted his full name; however, whenever the text uses an abbreviation to refer to R. Shmuel Mohilever – “הגרש”מ” in the New Edition they provide his full name but do so in brackets indicating an insertion into the text. Compare 1983 ed. pp. 84 & 92 & Jer. ed. at 71 & 76. It is unclear why they decided to consistently indicate this insertion and not others.

Turning the censored materials. These materials can roughly be divided into three categories. (1) materials that mention Zionism or are related to Zionism; (2) in this category we include what is best described as negative comments about women and marriage; and (3) personal attacks or observations about other Rabbis. We must note that many of these omissions have been cataloged here as well.

First Category – Zionism

Items from this category include material that appears in the footnotes to the 1983 edition as well as items in the text itself. The New Edition resuses almost all the footnotes that appear in the 1983 edition but leave out information when that information relates to Zionism. Thus:

1983 ed. (p. 17 n.5) provides a footnote when the text mentions R. Moshe Telsher “for more information see Sefer Zikhron le-[Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook] 1945″ Jer. Ed. (p. 15) doesn’t include this note at all.

1983 ed. (p. 28 n.14) contains a citation to Maimon’s Sa’arei ha-Meah, Jer. ed. (p. 26 n. 17) removes citation no notation anything is missing.

1983 ed. (p. 29 n.16) explains that R. Mordechai Gimpel Yaffo “was one who espoused emigration to Israel and himself emigrated in 1888”, Jer. ed. (p. 23 n.19) removes this text without notation.

1983 ed. (p. 59 n.46) regarding R. Mordechai Elisberg, the note explains “one of the leaders of the Hovvei Tzion movement,” Jer. ed. (p. 57 n.55), removes this text, no notation.

1983 ed. (p. 72 n.57) regarding R. Shmuel Mohliver “was the head and founder of the Hovvei Tzion movement,” Jer. ed. (p. 69 n.68) removes this text, no notation.

1983 ed. (p. 102 n.78) explaining that the author of Chavush Pe’ar “is R. Kook,” Jer. ed. (p. 96) the note is missing.

We should noted that the editors of the Jerusalem edition didn’t excise every Zionistic mention. Instead, they retain the sentence “the Hovvei Tzion chapter in Bialystok requested that I [Aderet] give a derasha.” Jer. ed. at 81. Similarly, Aderet describes how heart broken he was when his son-in-law and daughter had to leave because Aderet couldn’t support them and how happy Aderet was when he met up with his son-in-law later that year and spent time together. In the text, however, Aderet doesn’t identify by name his son-in-law. The New Edition retains the footnote from the 1983 edition which identifies the son-in-law as “The Gaon R. Abraham Isaac Kook ZT”L.” Jer. ed. at 60 n.57.

Second Category – comments about women

The vast majority of these changes relate to women, and specifically, when there was martial discord or divorce. There are essentially two women whose mention is censored, Adert’s step-mother and Aderet’s nephew’s first wife. As mentioned above, Aderet had serious issues with his step-mother and he is very vocal about those problems in his autobiography. Additionally, Aderet’s nephew’s first marriage didn’t work out. The first wife was the daughter of R Eliezer the chief rabbi of Anchin but she was uninterested in leading a religious life and thus this marraige ended in divorce. Whenever mention of either of these two women occurs in Seder Eliyahu the Jerusalem edition leaves them out. Thus, there is no mention in the Jerusalem edition that Aderet didn’t get along with his step-mother and that the nephew’s first wife wasn’t religious. Rather than explain what is missing each time, as the excised portions are generally similar, we have indicated where a passage relating to Aderet’s feelings about his step-mother is missing and where the excised passage relates to the non-religious first wife of Aderet’s nephew. We will, however, indicate where there is missing text and the editors of the new edition fail to note that they have removed text.

Step-mother

1983 ed. (18-19) lacking in Jer. ed. (16) noted with – – –

1983 ed. (23) lacking in Jer. ed. (21) no notation

1983 ed. (35) lacking in Jer. ed. (33) noted with – – –

1983 ed. (37) lacking in Jer. ed. (35) noted with – – –

1983 ed. (46) lacking in Jer. ed. (44) noted with – – –

Non-religious wife

1983 ed. (64) lacking in Jer. ed. (60) no notation

1983 ed. (71) lacking in Jer. ed. (68) noted with – – –

There is one final example that arguably fits in this category although it relates to neither of the above mentioned women. Instead, this instance relates to Aderet spening time in Vienna and meet R. Shlomo Netar. As part of their conversation R. Netar related some of his problems to Aderet. One related to his wife who is described – in the 1983 ed. (42)- as “the really horrible woman, may God save us, who is the granddaughter of R. Simcha Bunim Peshischa (or so I [Aderet] recall).” This quote is lacking in the Jer. ed. but is noted with – – -.

We should note that much of the material regarding Aderet’s step-mother appears, in toto, in a separate biography of Aderet that is appended to the beginning of Hiddushei ha-Gaon ha-Aderet, Machon Kitvei Yad ha-Aderet be-Artzot ha-Brit, Israel, 2003. This is somewhat ironic in that this biography is very careful what it mentions, or doesn’t mention. Specifically, although Aderet’s son-in-law (and, ultimately, after the untimely death of Aderet’s daughter and remarrying Aderet’s niece, became Aderet’s nephew), R. Abraham Isaac Kook, wrote a fine biography of Aderet, Adar ha-Yakar, and Kook’s biography is used in the biography appearing in Hiddushei, R. Kook’s name is never mentioned. That is, the mention of R. Kook was controversial (this may be related to the fact that the publisher of this volume is a member of the Satamar sect).[7] But, regarding Aderet’s step-mother, all that material appears in the biography in Hiddushei. See Hiddushei, at pp. 4, 6, 8 and 10 almost all of which are taken, almost verbatim, from the autobiography. Thus, even without access to the autobiography, any reader can find the relevant passages.

Third Category – personal observations or attacks on other rabbis

Some of these negative assesments relate to R. Yitzhak Elchonon although comments about other rabbis are also censored.

1983 ed. (60-61) discussing Aderet’s failed bid to become Riga’s chief rabbi, and, specifically, how R. Yitzhak Elchonon sunk Aderet’s bid. Additionally, Aderet notes that he sent R. Yitzhak Elchonon a very nasty letter explaining how disappointed Aderet was with R. Yitzhak Elchonon’s involvement and decision to pick someone else. Jer. ed. (68) the entire story is missing and there is no notation anything was removed.

1983 ed. (62) Aderet expresses his displeasure with some Ponovitch residents regarding salary negotiations and essentially calls them animals. Jer. ed. (69) lacking the name calling, no notation anything is missing.

1983 ed. (78) Aderet records the comments of a beadle who questioned R. Yitzhak Elchonon’s authority. Jer. ed. lacking but noted with – – – .

1983 ed. (79) Aderet meets someone who is wearing two pairs of teffilin neither of which are in their proper place. Aderet goes on to explain while this person passed himself off as a miracle worker, in reality he was a fraud. Aderet says the person “is the author of the book Kav Chen.” This must be incorrect. The author of Kav Chen, R. Noach mi-Koruv, died in 1855, but Aderet says this meeting took place in 1890. What is more likely is that Aderet was referring to the publisher of Kav Chen, R. Noach’s grandson, R. Hayyim Moshe Ze’ev. In all events, rather than attempting to correct or ascertain who Aderet is referring to, the Jer. ed. (75) “solves” the problem by removing the passage “the author of the book Kav Chen” and replace it with – – -.

1983 ed. (83) Aderet mentions “Leib Grabman” who involved the secular authorities in a communal dispute. Jer. ed. removes “Leib Grabman” and replaced with – – -.

1983 ed. (87-88) Aderet discusses a rabbinic conference he attended. In attendence was also R. Yitzhak Elchonon who became personally insulted after a miscommunication. As such, R. Yitzhak Elchonon refused to allow passage of any of the many “good ideas” the conference attendees offered. To add insult to injury, in the Jewish press, R. Yitzhak Elchonon blamed the poor result on everyone else. Jer. ed. (84) removes the entire story and replaced it with – – -.

1983 ed. (91) Aderet describes some rather insulting behavior directed at him by members of the Ponovitch community, including the gabbi ignoring Aderet. Jer. ed. (85) leaves out these stories and replaces them with – – -.

1983 ed. (93) after the Aderet leaves Ponovitch a very prominent member of the Ponovitch community died suddenly and “some people said his death was because he failed to show Aderet proper respect and to pay Aderet on time. As such Aderet is said to have cursed the dead man and his family.” Jer. ed. (86) removed and replaced with – – -.

1983 ed. (98) discusses a plan, by persons unconnected to Aderet, to trick R. Yitzhak Elchonon that was ultimately unsucessful. Jer. ed. (91) removed and replaced with – – – .

1983 ed. (99) Aderet details how various rabbis/roshei Yeshiva of Mir weren’t completely honest with Aderet. Aderet refers to these persons by name. Jer. ed. (92) removed entirely and replaced with – – -.

1983 ed. (103-04) Aderet details attempts at thwarting him from becoming a teacher at Yeshivat Mir. Jer. ed. (97) removed and replaced with – – -. Inetrestingly, much of the background and history of this incident is found in Pinchus Lipschutz’s – the editor of Ya’ated Ne’eman – book Peneni Chen, Monsey, 2000, p. 17 (thanks to a Seforim Blog reader for this citation).

Additional Comments Regarding Aderet’s Autobiography

Aside from the issues raised above, it should be noted that Aderet’s biography is full of facinating information both about him and his contemporaries as well as of general interest to students of Jewish history, custom, and law. While we intend to devote an entire post to the full contents of Seder Eliyahu we wanted to provide a few particularly interesting passages from Seder Eliyahu. All of the following examples appear in both editions of Seder Eliyahu. As mentioned above, Aderet, when he was in Vienna, met R. Shlomo Netar, who was also bookseller and who studied in the Yeshiva of Hatam Sofer. R. Netar related that he was in class with Hatam Sofer’s son, R. Shimon Sofer (eventual author of Michtav Sofer), was in the same class. R. Shimon Sofer “was often hit with sticks [by the teacher] and this was at the request of R. Shimon’s father,” Hatam Sofer. 1983 ed. at 42; Jer. ed. at 40.

A few halacha/custom related items. Aderet records that when he travelled by ship, once the gangplank was lifted and the ship was underway he recited tefillat ha-derekh. Someone on board the ship questioned this practice arguing that since the ship hadn’t left the city limits, one cannot recite teffilat ha-derekh. Aderet, however, responded by distinguishing between normal overland transport and ships (and presumably airplanes). Aderet explained that when going overland there is a fear that one may decide to return home thus one needs to wait until leaving the city limits, the point of no return. But, once one is onboard a ship and the gangplank is removed one can’t leave and therefore one can immediately recite teffilat ha-derekh. 1983 ed. at 42; Jer. ed. at 40.

Another time, Aderet also advocated for a novel halachic position. In this case, Aderet wanted to personally perform the circumcision of his son. But, the circumcision fell on Saturday, and, as Aderet hadn’t ever performed a circumcision previously, the rule is that one cannot perform their first circumcision on Saturday. Aderet, however, argued that the prohibition on performing one’s first circumcision on Saturday applies if one is circumcising someone other than their own child. That is, as there is a unique obligation to circumcise one’s child that trumps the prohibition against performing the first circumcision on Saturday. Aderet marshalled various sources that supported his position and presented his argument to R. Yosef Zechariah Stern (an equally impressive contemporary) who rejected Aderet’s argument. Aderet concludes that he “decided to refrain from deciding law in way that runs counter to Shulchan Orach and thus would appear strange to the public.” 1983 ed. 52; Jer. ed. at 51.

On one Saturday, there was a communal rift which resulted in the secular authorities confiscating the shul’s sefer torah. Thus, the shul didn’t complete the weekly mandatory reading. Although Aderet ended up hearing the reading in another shul, Aderet argued that the shul whose sefer torah was confiscated was required the next week to make up the reading it missed. He argued this position to R. Aaron Halberstam, son of R. Hayyim Halberstam, the Sanzer Rav. R. Aaron disagreed. He explained that the torah reading obligation is communal in nature and so long as a community shul recited the proper reading, those in the community that missed it need not repeat it. Aderet, however, argued that while one needs a minyan and thus is communal in nature, there is an individual obligation to read the weekly portion and if one shul didn’t hear the weekly portion then they need to recite it the next week. [Hida in his diary/travelouge seems to support Aderet’s postion, see Ma’agel Tov ha-Shalem when he too missed the torah reading]. 1983 ed. at 80; Jer. ed. at 77.

One final story relating to custom. Aderet spends some time on why he picked particular names for his children. One name, however, is particularly noteworthy. Aderet named one of his sons Mordechai Yonah. Aderet explains that he picked Yonah because “of [his] mother’s name” Tova which is the Yiddish equivalent of Yonah. This practice indicates that Aderet wasn’t bothered giving a boy a woman’s name or that naming for someone does not necessarly means using the same form as the original name. 1983 ed. at 51; Jer. ed. at 50.

Post Script Regarding Aderet’s Works & Works About Aderet

Besides for not using the Aderet’s autobiography at all or enough. It is worth pointing out that in the past recent years there has been a virtual explosion of the Aderet’s works which, until now, have remained in manuscript. The Aderet authored over one hundred works although most still remain in manuscript and are scatered all over the world in various collections.

A few notable works of Aderet that have recently been published. Mechon Ahavat Shalom has printed eight volumes of Aderet’s works, and, in addition, have published many shorter pieces in their journal Mekabziel. Worth noting is the recent lengthy correspondence which Machon Ahavat Shalom printed between the Aderet and Yakov Reifman. Mechon Yerushalayim has printed three volumes of the Aderet’s comments on Humash aside from the many pieces they have printed in their journal Moriah. Additionally, there are some other volumes that have been printed from manuscripts. One worth mentioning is the Over Orach which was printed by Mechon Me’or the editor of this work proudly told me how he took out many pieces from this manuscript before printing it for the public as he felt it was not “kovod” for the Aderet. Now this censorship isn’t mentioned anywhere in the work. Besides for the significance of the Torah found in these works which will be the subject of its own post including a in depth bibliography and description of the works. There is also much important material about Aderet’s life that can be gleaned from these recently published works.

Below is a (non-comprehensive) list of articles discussing Aderet’s biography, although some are better than others:

Ehad be-Doro, vol. 1, 191-202
Seder Parsheyot le-Aderet, vol. 1, Machon Yerushalyim, Jerusalem, 2004, 329-99 (includes bibliography)
Shlomo Albert, Aderet Eliyahu, Jerusalem, 2003
Hiddushei ha-Gaon ha-Aderet, Machon Kitvei Yad ha-Aderet be-Artzot ha-Brit, Israel, 2003, Katzman 1-42.
Moshe Tzinovitz, Ishim u-Kehilot, Tel Aviv, 1990 128-30
Moshe Tzinovitz, Mir, Tolodot Yeshivat Mir, Tel Aviv, 1981, 175-83
Rabbotenu she-beGoleh, Jerusalem, 1996, vol. 1, 121-28
Asher Yetzaveh, Mechon Ahavat Shalom, Jerusalem, 2004, vol. 1, pp. 395-425 (Nefesh David is reprinted in this work, however, the editors fail to mention that they copied it from the 1983 ed.).

Notes:

[1] See Jacob J. Schacter, “History & Memory of Self: The Autobiography of Rabbi Jacob Emden,” in Jewish History & Jewish Memory, Essays in Honor of Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi, eds. E. Carlebach, J. Efron, D. Myers, Brandeis University Press, 1998, 429 and nn. 6-8 discussing these autobiographies and providing additional examples. Emden’s autobiography, the Kahana edition is available online at here, and here with Gershom Scholem’s notes. Scholem penned his own autobiography (although it only covers a small portion of his life), Gershom Scholem, From Berlin to Jerusalem, tr. Harry Zohn, New York, 1980. Elliot Horowitz discusses Scholem’s autobiography in Horowitz’s article, “Confessions of a Jewish Autobiography Reader,” in JQR (n.s.), 95 (1), Winter 2005, pp. 74-80 & Saverio Campanini, “A Case for Sainte-Beuve, Some Remarks on Gershom Scholem’s Autobiography,” in Creation & Re-Creation in Jewish Thought, eds. R. Elior & P. Schafer, Paul Mohr Verlag, 2005, pp. 363-400. More recently, Scholem’s diaries have also been published, Lamentations of Youth: The Diaries of Gershom Scholem 1913-1919, ed. & tr. A.D. Skinner, Cambridge, Mass, 2007, a review appears here.

Returning to Emden’s autobiography aside from the Kahana edition linked to above, there is another edition published by Abraham Bick-Shauli in Jerusalem in 1979, however, Schacter has serious reservations about this edition. Schacter’s assesment of Bick-Shauli’s edition is that it “is absolutely and totally worthless.” Schacter, id. at 446 n.13. Of late, someone attempted to question the authenticity of Emden’s autobiography, Schacter’s comments are equally appropriate regarding this work as well.

Regarding Modena’s autobiography, see also Ariel Rathaus, “Leon Modena’s Autobiography & His Realistic Poetics,” in Italia, ed. Robert Bonfil, Conference Supplement Series, 1, Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2003, 131-42. Of course, regarding Modena one should always consult Howard Ernest Adelman, Success & Failure in the Seventeenth Century Ghetto of Venice: The Life of Leon Modena, 1571-1643, unpublished doctoral dissertation, Brandeis Univ., 1985, and this post by Yitzhak and this follow-up post on Ishim ve-Shitos. Modena’s autobiography is available in excellent editions in both Hebrew and English (part of which is online at Google books here), The Autobiography of a Seventeenth-Century Venetian Rabbi: Leon Modena’s Life of Judah, ed. Mark R. Cohen, Princeton Univ. Press, 1998 (English) & Sefer Hayyi Yehuda, ed. Daniel Carpi, Tel Aviv Univ., Tel Aviv, 1985.

Additionally, regarding Jewish autobiography generally this discussion here, and see M. Stanislawski, Autobiographical Jews, Essays in Jewish Self- Fashioning, Univ. Washington Press, 2004. Thanks to both Menachem Butler and Eliezer Brodt for providing many of these sources.

[1a] The Ha-Peles piece has a very nice footnote where Aderet’s sister’s erudition is described. “She knew Hebrew and the Talmudic language. During the winter, on Friday nights, she would sit by the fire and study the responsa literature of the rishonim, such as the responsa of Rashi, Rambam, Rosh and similar titles that don’t contain pilpul. She was fluent in many responsa. She also studied the Sefer Hassidim daily.” She was so well-versed in Sefer Hassidim that her father, when he was unsure of a citation in Sefer Hassidim would ask her. Eliyahu Akiva Rabinowitz also records that after Aderet published an article in Yagdil Torah she read it and asked an insightful question, which Aderet subsequently published, in her name, in Yagdil Torah. See ha-Peles, 720 n.2.

[2] See id. at 438 and nn. 58-59 (Schacter offers citations to other similar works who employ this device).

[3] Id. at 431 quoting Megillat Sefer, Kahana ed. (“with slight corrections from the manuscript”) pp. 54-55.

[4] Id. at 433.

[5] Assuming that Schacter is correct regarding Emden’s motives, the lingering question is why wasn’t Megillat Sefer published during Emden’s lifetime or soon after? Emden had his own press and was not shy about publishing his own works that defended his position, no matter how controversial those works were. Why didn’t Emden do the same with his autobiography? Unfortunately, Schacter doesn’t address this question, perhaps in his forthcoming translation of Megillat Sefer, he will provide more background regarding the publication of Megillat Sefer.

[6] Marcus Mosley, “Jewish Autobiography: The Elusive Subject,” in JQR (n.s.), 95, 1 (Winter 2005), 25.

[7] The author of this biography, however, is not Satmar. The author of the biography portion is R. Eliezer Katzman who is perhaps the only person who has demonstrated the similarities between various positions of R. Abraham Isaac Kook and the Satmar Rebbi. See Eliezer Katzman, in Ketonet Yosef, ed. D. Gotlieb et. al. New York, 2002.

Further Comments by Marc Shapiro

By Marc B. Shapiro

I had thought that this would be my last post of the current batch, but it turned out to be too long. So I have divided it into two parts. Here is part no. 1.

The volumes Shomrei Mishmeret ha-Kodesh, by R. Natan Raphael Auerbach, have just appeared. Here is the cover.

This book is devoted to the Auerbach family, which was one of the great rabbinic families in Germany. They were the “A” in what was known as the ABC rabbinic families (the others being Bamberger and Carlebach). Over 150 pages are devoted to R. Zvi Benjamin Auerbach, who was the most prominent of the Auerbach rabbis. He was also the publisher of Sefer ha-Eshkol, to which he added his commentary Nahal Eshkol. In a number of posts I dealt with Auerbach’s edition of Sefer Ha-Eshkol, and discussed how both academic scholars and traditional talmidei hakhamim have concluded that the work is a forgery.1 Readers who are interested in the details can examine the earlier posts. In this newly published volume, which was called to my attention by Eliezer Brodt, the author speaks briefly about the Sefer ha-Eshkol controversy and responds to those who, in his words, continue to defame a gadol be-Yisrael (p. 382):

הממשיכים לבזות גדול בישראל ולהכפישו באופן אישי

In the note the author refers to Moshe Samet, who earlier had dealt with Sefer ha-Eshkol, and also to one of my posts on the Seforim Blog. While Seforim Blog posts have been cited in English scholarly writings, as far as I know this is the first time that there has been citation in a Hebrew volume.

I understand why members of the Auerbach family might feel obliged to defend him. (Yet one of my college suitemates was a descendant of Auerbach, and it didn’t seem to trouble him when I told him about the controversy.) Why a respected rabbi would forge a book is not something I want to get into now. In the earlier post I assumed that he was schizophrenic, as when it comes to Sefer ha-Eshkol I can’t think of any ideological reason for his actions. (Samet, He-Hadash Assur min ha-Torah [Jerusalem, 2005], p. 152 n. 235, identifies as one of Auerbach’s motivations: מגמה אורתודוקסית).

As for the argument that since he was a leading rabbi we must therefore assume that he couldn’t have done such a thing, this is disproven by all the recent examples of well-known rabbis who were involved in a variety of types of improper behavior. Before they were exposed, no one could ever have imagined what we learnt, and everyone would have been 100 percent sure that these rabbis could not possibly have been involved in such activities. This simply shows that that just because someone is a well-known rabbi we don’t have to automatically conclude that he is innocent no matter what the evidence says.

In many of the recent cases, at least the ones dealing with sexual abuse, the rabbis no doubt suffered from some sort of mental illness, as I can’t imagine that men who did so much to influence people positively and help them were complete frauds. I think that Auerbach must also have had some psychological issues, and this is actually the best limud zekhut. For once we assume this, it means that we don’t have to view the rest of his illustrious career and achievements as fraudulent. In short, he had a problem and it manifested itself in his forgeries. Yet I admit that I can’t prove my supposition, and at the end of the day we will probably never be able to explain definitively why Auerbach would forge the text any more than we can explain how another great figure, Erasmus, forged a patristic work and attributed it to Saint Cyprian.2 Anthony Grafton, who has written an entire book on the subject, sums up the matter as follows: “The desire to forge, in other words, can infect almost anyone: the learned as well as the ignorant, the honest person as well as the rogue.”3

Unfortunately, Shomrei Mishmeret ha-Kodesh does not seriously deal with any of the evidence that has led to the conclusion that we are dealing with a forgery. (For reasons I can’t get into now, I find it completely implausible that someone in medieval times forged the work and Auerbach was duped. But let me make one point: Auerbach claimed to be working from a very old manuscript, and yet this “manuscript” contains material from the 17th and 18th centuries.). Since the author mentions Sefer ha-Eshkol vol. 4, which was published in 1986 together with the Nahal Eshkol, I once again renew my call for this manuscript to be made public and for some explanation to be given as to where it comes from, since Auerbach’s many defenders were unaware of it. The fact that a portion of Auerbach’s manuscript (i.e. his copy of the supposed medieval manuscript) mysteriously surfaced so many decades after Auerbach’s death, and that we are told nothing about it or even shown a picture of it, certainly raises red flags. As I noted in one of my previous posts, the Nahal Eshkol published here has a reference to a book that only appeared after Auerbach died. This means that quite apart from Sefer ha-Eshkol, we also have to raise questions about whether the Nahal Eshkol published here is itself authentic. It could be that it is indeed genuine, and the reference to the later book is an interpolation, but that is why we have to see the manuscript. After all, if the manuscript is written in one hand, and it includes the reference to the later book, then there is no doubt that it too is a forgery. So let the evidence about Sefer ha-Eshkol vol. 4, together with the manuscript, be placed on the Seforim Blog for all to see. Perhaps then we can begin to understand the mystery of this volume.

As long as the topic has been brought up, let me call attention to Shulamit Elitzur’s new book, Lamah Tzamnu (Jerusalem, 2007). On p. 115 n. 2, she gives an example where the Sefer ha-Eshkol forgery was perpetrated by using a quotation from the Shibolei ha-Leket, and cites a comment in this regard from the noted scholar Simhah Emanuel. On p. 235 n. 3,8 she mentions another example of forgery in the Auerbach Sefer Ha-Eshkol. For further instance, see Israel Moshe Ta-Shma’s posthumously published Keneset Mehkarim, vol. 4 (Jerusalem, 2010), p. 183 n. 28.4 In an article in Atarah le-Hayyim (Jerusalem, 2000), p. 292, Neil Danzig also points to a non-authentic interpolation in Auerbach’s Sefer ha-Eshkol. Yet I am surprised to see that he follows Ta-Shma in thinking that R. Moses De Leon might have had something to do with this.

In terms of traditional Torah scholars, I came across a comment by R. Avigdor Nebenzahl in R. Yaakov Epstein’s recently published Hevel Nahalato, vol. 7, p. 157. (Epstein is the grandson of Prof. Jacob Nahum Epstein.5) Nebenzahl comes from a German Orthodox background, so one might expect him to come to the defense of Auerbach, as did a number of prominent German Orthodox figures. Yet that is not what we find. Epstein had cited a passage from Auerbach’s Sefer ha- Eshkol to which Nebenzahl added that it is well known that some question the authenticity of this edition and claim that it is a forgery. In case you are looking for any non-scholarly motivations for this comment, I should mention that Nebenzahl’s sister was Plia Albeck (died 2005), the daughter-in-law of Hanokh Albeck and a significant person in her own right. (She paved the way for most of the Jewish settlements in the West Bank.) Hanokh Albeck, together with his father, Shalom Albeck, published the authentic Sefer ha-Eshkol, and were both very involved in exposing Auerbach’s forgery. In other words, Nebenzahl’s comment shows that families stick together. (Just out of curiosity, does anyone know if there have been any marriages between the two important families, the Auerbachs and the Albecks?)

In a previous post, I mentioned R. Yehiel Avraham Zilber’s belief that the Auerbach Sefer ha-Eshkol is forged. To the sources I referred to, we can add Birur Halakhah, Orah Hayyim 75. Also, R. Yisrael Tuporovitz, who has written many volumes of Talmudic commentaries, is not shy about offering his opinion. Here is what he writes in Derekh Yisrael: Hullin (Bnei Brak, 1999), p. 8:

וכבר נודע שספר האשכול הנדפס עם ביאור נחל אשכול הוא מזוייף ואין לסמוך עליו כלל

He repeats this judgment on pages 38, 53 and 345.

In one of the earlier posts I mentioned that R. Yitzhak Ratsaby denies the authenticity of Auerbach’s edition. I also quoted from his letter to me. At the time, I was unaware that portions of this letter also appear in his haskamah to R. Moshe Parzis’ Taharat Kelim (Bnei Brak, 2002). Another new source in this regard from Ratsaby is his Shulhan Arukh ha-Mekutzar (Bnei Brak, 2000), Yoreh Deah 138:3 (p. 287), where he accuses Auerbach of taking something from the Peri Hadash and placing it in Sefer ha-Eshkol.

Ratsaby discussed the Sefer ha-Eshkol in his haskamah to Parzis’ book because the latter had called attention to the defense of Auerbach in Tzidkat ha-Tzaddik. Here is the title page of the latter work.

Among the defenders of Auerbach was R. Jacob Schorr of Kuty, Galicia. Schorr was a genius and is best known for his edition of the Sefer ha-Itim.6 He also wrote the responsa volume Divrei Yaakov (Kolomea, 1881), and a second volume, culled from various sources, both published and manuscript, appeared in 2006. Here is his picture, taken from Aharon Sorasky’s Marbitzei Torah me-Olam ha-Hasidut, vol. 3, p. 11.

It is an unfortunate oversight that this incredible scholar does not have an entry in the Encyclopaedia Judaica. A list of all of his works can be found in the introduction to his Mavo al ha-Tosefta (Petrokov, 1930). This introduction also contains R. Zvi Ezekiel Michaelson’s biography of Schorr. As with everything written by this amazing bibliophile,7 one learns a great deal, not only about the subject he focuses on, but about all sorts of other things.8 Michaelson was killed in the Holocaust and numerous unpublished manuscripts of his were lost. His grandson was Prof. Moshe Shulvass, and a responsum is addressed to him in Michaelson’s Tirosh ve-Yitzhar, no. 158.

Schorr’s son was Dr. Alexander Schorr, who translated many classic Greek and Latin texts into Hebrew.9 Alexander Schorr’s grandson is the well-known Israeli film director, Renen Schorr.10

Since Prof. Leiman has just written about the Maharal, it is worth noting that Schorr tells an incredibly far-fetched story, which he actually believed, about the Maharal and Emperor Rudolph. According to the tale, Rudolph’s biological father was a Jewish man. What happened was that Rudolph’s mother, the queen, could not have children with the Emperor. She therefore asked a Jewish man to impregnate her or else she would unleash persecution on the Jews in the kingdom. Upon hearing this, the beit din gave the man permission to accede to her wishes. I don’t want to repeat any more of this nonsensical story, but those who are interested can find it in R. Abraham Michaelson’s Shemen ha-Tov (Petrokov, 1905), pp. 60a-b. (R. Abraham was R. Zvi Ezekiel’s son.)

Returning to Schorr, one of the most astounding examples of self-confidence—others will no doubt call it arrogance or foolishness—ever stated by a rabbi (in print, at least) was penned by him. In his Meir Einei Hakhamim, reprinted in Kitvei ve-Hiddushei ha-Gaon Rabbi Yaakov Schorr (Bnei Brak, 1991), p. 177, we find the following:

ואני מעיד עלי שמים וארץ כי לא היה ולא יקום עוד אחרי שום חכם אשר יהי’ בקי בטוב [!] בפלפול תנאים ואמוראים כמותי

This text is often quoted by R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer in his various works.11 This is not the only time Schorr expressed himself this way. On page 129 he writes

ודע דהופיע רוח הקודש בבית מדרשי

(This expression can also be found in other books, and originates in Rabad’s hassagah to Hilkhot Lulav 8:5. But to see this type of language in a sefer written by a someone very young [see below], even a genius like Schorr, is a bit jarring.) Sofer, Shem Betzalel, p. 28, also points to Meir Einei Hakhamim, p. 209, where Schorr writes about one of his ideas:

וזה נכון יותר מפירוש רש”י

(On this page, Schorr alludes to R Zvi Hirsch Chajes, referring to him as אחד מחכמי הזמן. Sofer claims that Schorr’s general practice is to not mention Chajes by name. Sofer wants the reader to think that he doesn’t know why Schorr acts this way. Yet the reason is obvious, and Sofer himself certainly knows that some talmudists were not fans of Chajes.)

Perhaps we can attribute Schorr’s over-the-top comments to his own immaturity. After all, as Sofer, Shem Betzalel, p. 29, points out, Schorr began writing the book I am quoting from at age thirteen, and completed it by the time he was sixteen. A genius he certainly was, yet I think we should assume that his excessive comments were the product of youthful exuberance. Sofer sees Schorr’s youthfulness as also responsible for the very harsh way he criticizes the writings of various gedolim, which is something that is more understandable, and forgivable, in a teenager than in a mature scholar. I think all writers are embarrassed of things their penned in their youth, and that is to be expected.12 An example I often mention in this regard (when not referring to myself) is Hirsch’s harsh criticism of Maimonides. This appeared in Hirsch’s first book, the Nineteen Letters, published when he was 28 years old. Never again in Hirsch’s many writings does he ever express himself this way. My assumption is that he regretted what he wrote, and in his mature years he would not have used such strong language. Similarly, I wonder if in his mature years R. Soloveitchik would have commented to R. Weinberg—as he did in his twenties—that his grandfather had a greater understanding than even the Vilna Gaon. (I have printed Weinberg’s letter where this appears in a few different places, most recently on the Seforim Blog and in the Hebrew section to my Studies in Maimonides.)

In terms of young achievers in the Lithuanian Torah world, I wonder how many have ever heard of R. Meir Shafit. He lived in the nineteenth century and wrote a commentary on the Jerusalem Talmud, when not many were studying it. Here is the title page of one of the volumes, where it tells us that he became rav of a community at the age of fifteen.

The Hazon Ish once remarked that the young Rabbi Shafit would mischievously throw pillows at his gabbaim!13

Returning to Schorr and Sefer ha-Eshkol, Ratsaby is not impressed by Schorr’s defense. He notes that in R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer’s Torat Yaakov, Sofer states that the ideas of Schorr “צריכים בדיקה.”

I found the comment in Torat Yaakov (2002 edition) p. 880. Here Sofer claims that despite his brilliance, Schorr often puts forth unsustainable suppositions, and he calls attention to R. Reuven Margaliot, Ha-Mikra ve-ha-Mesorah, ch. 12. Here Margaliot cites a suggestion by Schorr that the text of Kiddushin 30a should be emended because the vav of גחון is not the middle letter of the Torah. Schorr further states that the editor of Masekhet Sofrim was misled by the error in the Talmud. The implication of Schorr’s comment is that all of our sifrei Torah are mistaken, for they mark this letter as special. Margaliot responds:

ותמה אני על תלמיד חכם מובהק כמוהו איך הרשה לעצמו לחשוב על מסדר מסכת סופרים שהוא טועה ומטעה וגם בודה מלבו מנהגים בכתיבת ס”ת. ב”הגהות” כאלו יכולים לעשות כל מה שרוצים, וכאשר כתב הגר”א [אליהו] פוסק בפסקי אליהו שם: רעדה אחזתני לעשות טעות כזה בגמרא ולחשוב על כל הס”ת שגיונות בדקדוקים דו’ דגחון ודרש דרש.

With regard to Ratsaby, I should also note that his dispute with R. Ovadiah Yosef continues unabated. In his recent Ner Yom Tov (Bnei Brak, 2008), pp. 20-21, he goes so far as to accuse R. Ovadiah of plagiarism.

He also states, with regard to R. Ovadiah (p. 100):

שכבוד התורה אצלו, הוא רק למי שמסכים לדבריו

Ratsaby’s book was written to defend the Yemenite practice of not making a blessing on Yom Tov candles against the criticism of R. Ovadiah. He also deals with R. Ovadiah’s larger point that the Yemenites must embrace the Shulhan Arukh’s rulings now that they are in the Land of Israel. The entire Yemenite rabbinate agrees with Ratsaby’s position, but upon seeing how he attacked R. Ovadiah, the condemnation of him from other Yemenite rabbis was swift. All I can say in defense of Ratsaby is that R. Ovadiah has been criticizing him in a less than respectful way for some time now. But in a sense, Ratsaby got what was coming to him, because for many years he has been writing very disrespectfully about R. Kafih.

In this new book, p. 98, Ratsaby goes so far as to repeat the legend that when Kafih was appointed a dayan in Jerusalem he swore to R. Ovadiah that he accepted the Zohar, and Ratsaby claims that Kafih swore falsely. Kafih, however, denied that he ever took such an oath.14 For a long time Ratsaby has been proclaiming that it forbidden to use Kafih’s books, as he is a member of the kat, i.e., the Dardaim who don’t accept the Zohar or Kabbalah in general. Yet R. Ovadiah has declared that the Dardaim are not to be regarded as heretics.15 This is in contrast to R. Chaim Kanievsky who holds that the Dardaim are heretics who cannot be counted in a minyan.16 R. David Teherani states that since the Dardaim reject the Zohar, their wine is yein nesekh.17 According to Aaron Abadi, R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach also ruled that rejection of the Zohar and Kabbalah is heresy.18

I can understand those who assert that one must believe that the Zohar was written by Rashbi or at the very least that it was written be-ruah ha-kodesh, and if you deny this it is heresy. Yet what is one to make of the following statement, which greatly enlarges the realm of heresy (R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 7, no. 160):

ואם הוא אינו מאמין שהמ”ב [משנה ברורה] נכתב ברוה”ק אזי הוא בכלל אפיקורוס וכופר בתורת ה’ . . . יש בזמן הזה שאין מאמינים שגם בדורינו אנו ישנם חכמי הזמן שיש להם רוה”ק . . . ומי שלא מאמין בזה הרי הוא אפיקורוס וכופר בלי ספק.

Based on this definition, I think the entire Lithuanian rabbinate until World War II would be regarded as heretics. Would such a statement even have been imaginable before twenty years ago? It is, of course, no secret that the Lithuanian rabbinate has been transformed along hasidic lines. This change is undeniable and I can point to many examples of this. Here is one (which was sent to me by R. Yitzhak Hershkowitz).

Would any Jew in Lithuania ever fall for such a thing as magic (or holy) wine? Anyone who tried to peddle this stuff would have been thrown out of the beit midrash. I was actually told an anti-hasidic joke with regard to this picture. I ask all Hasidim not to be offended as neither I nor the management endorse the joke. Yet it deserves to be recorded for posterity, for as we all know, jokes are simply jokes, but the history of jokes (even bad ones), well that is scholarship. The joke goes as follows: “It is incredbible. We now see great Lithuanian Torah scholars doing things that until now only hasidic rebbes did. But even more incredible would be to see the reverse, that is, to see hasidic rebbes write seforim on Shas and poskim.”

With regard to the Zohar, I must mention an amazing point called to my attention by David Zilberberg, from which we see that R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik did not believe that R. Simeon bar Yohai wrote the Zohar, or at least that he didn’t write all of it. I always assumed as much, but as far as I know there was never any proof, until now. In The Lord is Righteous in All His Ways, pp. 206-207, the Rav discusses the Western Wall and says that there is no mention of it in Chazal and very little mention in rishonim. The Wall is mentioned in Shir ha-Shirim Rabbah 2:2219, where it states that the Kotel will never be destroyed, but the Rav says about this Midrash:

I will tell you frankly that I am always suspicious about this midrash, because the classical sources, the Bavli and the Yerushalmi, do not mention the Kotel ha-Ma’aravi. The midrash cited earlier is, perhaps, a later insert. Apparently, Rabbi El’azar ha-Kalir knew the midrash. To my mind, this kinah of Rabbi Elazar ha-Kalir is one of the earliest documents to mention the Kotel ha-Ma’aravi.

Earlier in this book the Rav tells us when Kalir lived:

I do not know why historians have to explore when Kalir lived when he himself states that nine hundred years have passed and the Messiah has not yet arrived. It means that Kalir lived in the tenth century.

Yet as Zilberberg correctly points out, the Western Wall is seen as quite significant in the Zohar (II, 5b), and is referred to as Rosh Amanah.20 The Rav knew the Zohar very well, and therefore, when he tells us that Chazal do not mention the Western Wall, and it is only during the time of the rishonim that we begin to see references to it, he is also telling us that the Zohar (or at least this section of the Zohar) was written in the days of the rishonim.

Returning to Auerbach, let me add in conclusion that he is not the only great rabbi and Torah scholar who was involved in forgery. An earlier case is R. Benjamin Ze’ev of Arta (sixteenth century), author of the well known responsa volume Teshuvot Binyamin Ze’ev. Here is the title page from the first edition (Venice, 1539):

In the midst of a dispute he was involved in, he forged the signature of the Venetian rabbi, R. Baruch Bendit Axelrad, placing it on a document that supported himself. He also forged an entire letter in R. Baruch Bendit’s name. When all this was discovered, it helped lead to R. Benjamin’s downfall.21

Quite apart from the forgery, R. Solomon Luria, Yam Shel Shlomo, Bava Kamma, ch. 8 no. 72, also accuses R. Benjamin Zev of plagiarism. Here are some his words:

כל דבריו גנובים וארוכים בפלפול שאינו לצורך וכנגד פנים מראה אחור . . . ושרי לי מרי אם הוא צדיק למה הביא הקב”ה תקלה על ידו הלא הוא היה הכותב ונתן לדפוס הספר מידו ומפיו.

One big question that needs to be considered is how far removed is forgery from false attribution? When it comes to false attribution there is a long rabbinic tradition supporting it, and in the book I am currently working on I deal with this in great detail. If you can falsely attribute a position to a sage, perhaps you can forge a document in his name as well (assuming it is not done for personal gain). Could that be what was driving Auerbach?

* * *

A few people have sent me a question about my Monday night Torah in Motion classes, so I assume that there are others who have the question as well. Here is the answer: If you cannot be with us at 9PM and you are signed up, the classes are sent to you so that you can watch or listen at your convenience. This is much cheaper than downloading the classes individually.

Notes

1 From my post here you can find all the links.

2 See Anthony Grafton, Forgers and Critics: Creativity and Duplicity in Western Scholarship (Princeton, 1990), pp. 44-45.

3 Ibid., p. 48.

4 As has been noted by many, Auerbach’s edition of Sefer Ha-Eshkol has misled countless talmidei hakhamim. There is another way in which Auerbach misled a scholar, but in this case it was accidental. In the introduction to his edition, p. xv note 9, Auerbach reports in the name of a supposedly reliable person that the Yerushalmi Kodashim was to be found in the Vatican library. This false report led R. Mordechai Farhand to travel there from Hungary in search of this treasure, and he describes his journey. See Farhand, Be’er Mordechai (Galanta, 1927), pp. 154ff. Farhand was a gullible fellow. See ibid. p. 152, where even though it had been a number of years since Friedlaender’s Yerushalmi forgery had been established, he didn’t want to take sides. The legend that there was a copy of the Yerushalmi Kodashim in the Vatican had been disproven already in the nineteenth century. See R. Baruch Oberlander in Or Yisrael (Tamuz 5761), p. 220.

5 In his review of my edition of Kitvei ha-Rav Weinberg, vol. 2, R. Neriah Guttel, Ha-Ma’ayan (Nisan 5764), pp. 82-83, writes that it was improper for me to publish Weinberg’ judgment of Epstein (p. 430). Although they were friends, and Weinberg thought that Epstein was a great scholar, he also pointed out that that Epstein wasn’t a lamdan. What Weinberg meant is that Epstein wasn’t a traditional talmid hakham but an academic Talmudic researcher. As such, while his publications had great value, in Weinberg’s eyes they didn’t get to the heart of what Talmudic scholarship should be about. In Weinberg’s words:

סוכ”ס אפשטיין אינו למדן, ואיננו אלא פילולוג בעל חוש חד. בלא לומדות אי אפשר לחקור לא את המשנה ולא התלמוד.

Statements like these are vital for evaluating Weinberg’s approach to academic scholarship, and I never would dream of censoring such things.

6 In his Sha’ar Yaakov (Petrokov, 1922), no. 16, there is a responsum to “Abraham Joshua Heschel.” Shmuel Glick, Kuntres ha-Teshuvot he-Hadash, vol. 3, s.v. Sha’ar Yaakov, assumes that this is the famous A. J. Heschel, but I don’t think we can conclude this based only on the name, which was shared by a number of others.

7 Eleh Ezkerah (New York, 1957), vol. 2, p. 196 (repeated in the Encylopaedia Judaica entry on Michaelson), states that in Michaelson’s Degan Shamayim (Petrokov, 1901), there are responsa written when he was twelve and thirteen years old. This is a mistake. The earliest responsa dates from when he was seventeen years old. See pp. 10a, 11a.

8 On p. 23 he prints a letter that Schorr wrote to Michaelson’s son, who wanted to translate the Sefer ha-Hinukh into Yiddish. Schorr was strongly opposed to this. He explained as follows, using words that won’t make the women very happy:

רבינו הרמב”ם והחינוך אחריו שהודיעו ברבים טעמי מצות וכו’ יכשלו בזה קלי הדעת לבטל המצוה כפי סכלות דעתם אשר לפי הטעם אין לחוש עוד בזמנינו וכיוצא שבטל בהם טעם זה וכו’ איך ניתן לגלות טעמי מצות גם בפני נשים ועמי הארץ אשר יקראו בו, חלילה לרו”מ לעבור על לפני עור.

9 See here

10 See here

11 Sofer often refers to a similar type of comment by R. Shlomo Kluger, Ha-Elef Lekha Shlomo, Orah Hayyim 367:

אם הייתי זוכר כל מה שכתבתי מעולם לא הי’ שום הערה בעולם שלא הרגשתי בזה.

(I cited both Schorr and Kluger in a footnote in my article on the Hatam Sofer in Be’erot Yitzhak: Studies in Memory of Isadore Twersky. Although other writers also cite this comment of Kluger, as with much else, I believe that I first saw the reference in one of Sofer’s writings.) Kluger wrote so many thousands of responsa, that it is not uncommon for him to contradict himself and forget what he wrote previously. See R. Yehudah Leib Maimon, ed., Sefer ha-Gra (Jerusalem, 1954), p. 99 in the note. R. Solomon Schreiber, Hut ha-Meshulash (Tel Aviv, 1963), p. 19, claims that R. Nathan Adler’s reason for not recording his Torah teachings was due to a belief that the permission to put the Oral Law into writing only applies if one is not able to remember this information. Since, according to Schreiber, R. Nathan claimed that he never forgot any Torah knowledge, he was not permitted to take advantage of this heter.

12 Regarding Schorr being a childhood genius, this letter from him to R. Shlomo Kluger appeared in Moriah, Av 5767.

As you can see, the letter was written in 1860 (although I can’t make out what the handwriting says after תר”ך). We are informed, correctly, that Schorr was born in 1853, which would mean that he was seven years old when he wrote the letter. This, I believe, would make him the greatest child genius in Jewish history, as I don’t think the Vilna Gaon could even write like this at age seven. Furthermore, if you read the letter you see that two years prior to this Schorr had also written to Kluger. Are there any other examples of a five-year-old writing Torah letters to one of the gedolei ha-dor? Furthermore, from the letter we see that the seven-year-old Schorr was also the rav of the town of Mariompol! (The Mariompol in Galicia, not Lithuania.) I would have thought that this merited some mention by the person publishing this letter. After all, Schorr would be the only seven-year-old communal rav in history, and this letter would be the only evidence that he ever served as rav in this town. But the man who published this document and the editor of the journal are entirely oblivious to what must be one of the most fascinating letters in all of Jewish history. Yet all this assumes that the letter was actually written by Schorr. Once again we must thank R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer for setting the record straight. In his recently published Shuvi ha-Shulamit (Jerusalem, 2009), vol. 7, p. 101, he calls attention to the error and points out, citing Wunder, Meorei Galicia, that the rav of Mariampol was another man entirely, who was also named Jacob Schorr.

13 A. Horowitz, Orhot Rabbenu (Bnei Brak, 1991), vol. 1, p. 364.

14 See Avivit Levi, Holekh Tamim (Jerusalem, 2003), p. 133 n. 161.

15 See R. Yosef Pinhasi, Yefeh Toar, p. 116.

16 See his response in Mordechai Alemkayas, Va-Yikhtov Mordechai (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 340.

17 Yayin le-Nesekh (Betar Ilit, 1996), p. 70.

18 See here. According to Abadi, R. Shlomo Zalman’s decision was made with regard to a well-known scholar who is very involved with Artscroll.

19 The Rav doesn’t note that there is a mention of the Wall in Shemot Rabbah 2:2 as well, but his judgment would no doubt be the same. Contrary to the Rav, since these midrashim are found in so many parallel sources, I don’t think there is any question that they indeed originate with Chazal.

20 See Pinchas Giller, Reading the Zohar (Oxford, 2001), pp. 12-13.

21 The event is described in Meir Benayahu, Mavo le-Sefer Binyamin Ze’ev (Jerusalem, 1989), pp. 120ff. Once the dispute got going, all sorts things were said. R. Benjamin was even accused of purchasing his semikhah. See ibid., p.140. The source for this is R. Elijah ha-Levi, Zekan Aharon (Constantinople, 1534), no. 184.

Marc Shapiro: R. Kook on Sacrifices & Other Assorted Comments

R. Kook on Sacrifices and Other Assorted Comments

by: Marc B. Shapiro

1. At the beginning of my previous post (the Gurock review) I mentioned R. Solomon Isaac Scheinfeld (1860-1943). The source of the comment I quote is his Olam ha-Sheker (Milwaukee, 1936), p. 77.1 Scheinfeld was the unofficial chief rabbi in Milwaukee, arriving there in 1902 and serving until his death in 1943. Here is his picture.

He had a traditional education, having studied for three years in the Kovno Kollel under R. Isaac Elhanan Spektor, from whom he received semikhah.2 He also had a very original mind, and wrote a number of books and essays. One of his most fascinating works is the article he published under the pseudonym Even Shayish. In this article he argued that since sacrifices will never be revived, they are now irrelevant to Judaism and all references to them should be removed from the prayer book.

R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg has a lengthy essay in which he critiques Scheinfeld’s position. A Hebrew translation of this essay appears in volume 2 of Kitvei R. Weinberg. Yet Weinberg himself leaves open the possibility that there won’t be a return to sacrifices (p. 255):

אין דנים כאן על עצם הרעיון היסודי של הקרבנות. לו היתה היום קיימת אצלנו שאלה כזאת והיא דורשת פתרון דחוף – אין מספר מצומצם של יהודים בארץ אחת בני סמכות להכריע בענין זה, וכל שכן כאשר הם אינם מייצגים את כלל ישראל. שאלה זאת חייבים להביא לפני הבית דין של כלל ישראל. רק לבית דין כזה הרשות לקבוע אם להשאיר טקס מקודש בעם בתוקפו או לבטלו. היום שאין לנו ארץ ולא בית המקדש ולא כהנים הרי זה מגוחך ומצער כאחת להעלות תביעה לבטל עבודת קרבנות!

Weinberg doesn’t mention Maimonides, but this is usually to where people turn when seeking to argue against a revival of sacrifices. According to the Guide 3:32, Maimonides thought that sacrifices were a concession to the masses’ primitive religious notions, developed in an idolatrous society. While Maimonides is explicit in the Mishneh Torah that there will be a return of the sacrificial order, his reason for sacrifices offered in the Guide led some people to assume that his true opinion was that there will not be sacrifices in the future. One example is R. Simhah Paltrovitch, Simhat Avot (New York, 1917), pp. 7-8, who offers a mystical approach:

אמנם מה נעשה במה שדברי מורנו ורבנו הרמב”ם ז”ל שהוא בסברתו מתנגד לאלה הדברים, ואומר כי בימים הבאים עת קץ משיחנו, יבוטל עבודה בקרבנות ולא יהיה עוד . . . להעולם הזה נתנו הפשט והדרוש, ובעולם השני יקויים הרמז והסוד . . .וכן ממש הוא טעם של הרמב”ם ז”ל שיבוטל הקרבנות, כי אז יהי’ התורה על צד הרמז וסוד כמו שארי המצוות המבוארות בתורה, כי יתחלפון מן הפשט לרמז וסוד שמשונים מן הפשט.

R. Joseph Messas also cites Maimonides’ reason for sacrifices and concludes that there will be no return of the sacrificial order (Otzar ha-Mikhtavim, vol. 2, no. 1305).

לפי”ז יתבטלו לעתיד כל הקרבנות כי זה אלפי שנים משנעקרה ע”ז מישראל, וישראל גוי אחד, עובדים רק לאל אחד ועל ידי ישראל בגלותם נעקרה ע”ז גם מכל האומות.

What about the problem that the abolition of sacrifices would mean a change in Torah law, which is a point that R. Kook will also deal with? Messas answers simply:

ואין בזה שנוי בתורה חלילה, דזיל בתר טעמא

What this means, I think, is that from the beginning sacrifices were only intended to be offered in a society in which people were attached to primitive religious notions associated with idolatry, and the animal sacrifices that went along with this. However, once this era has passed from the scene, then there will no longer be any obligation for sacrifices.

A really shocking comment against sacrfices appears in a supposed letter from R. Yaakov of Lissa to R. Zvi Hirsch Kalischer (published in Ha-Posek, Kislev 5712). Responding to Kalischer’s advocacy of renewing sacrifices even before the coming of the Messiah, R. Yaakov claims that to do so would cause Jews to be a subject of mockery by the Gentiles and the non-religious Jews.

לבי נוקף ונפשי מלא רטט ורעד כי אם ישמעו הגויים והקלים בישראל שאנחנו מקריבים קרבנות ימלאו שחוק פיהם ונהיה
ח”ו ללעג ולקלס וה’ יודע כמה צרות וקלקולים יצמחו מזה

It is very unlikely, to put it mildly, that a gadol be-Yisrael would give this as his reason for not fulfilling a mitzvah. When one realizes that the person who published this letter was the famous forger Chaim Bloch, then all doubts are removed: The letter, like so much else published by Bloch, is a complete forgery. Apparently Bloch had some negative feelings about sacrifices and transferred them to R. Yaakov. Interestingly, when this letter was republished in Dovev Siftei Yeshenim, vol. 1, Bloch made a subtle change in the letter, which as far as I know, no one has yet pointed out. The letter’s authenticity had been attacked by Zvi Harkavy in Kol Torah (Nisan-Iyar 5712), and one of the things he pointed to was this line, and that R. Yaakov could never have written it. So when Bloch republished the letter, in an attempt to bolster its authenticity, he altered it to read as follows (I have underlined the newly added words):

כי אם ישמעו הגויים והקלים בישראל שאנחנו מקריבים קרבנות בזמן הזה לפני ביאת משיח צדקנו ובטרם עומד בית מקדשנו
על מכונו, ימלאו שחוק פיהם ונהיה ח”ו ללעג ולקלס

Had he been smart enough to have added these extra words in the first edition of his forgery, it would have been more believable. Now R. Yaakov is not speaking of the non-Jews and the non-religious mocking the offering of sacrifices, but only mocking the offering of them before the coming of the Messiah and the building of the Temple.

Michael Friedlaender’s The Jewish Religion (London, 1891), was for many years regarded as a standard work of Orthodox belief. As far as I know, it was the first of its kind in English and can still hold its own against many more recently published books. You can see it here. On pages 162-163, 417-418, he speaks of the return of the sacrificial order in Messianic days, and how we should look forward to this, even if it is contrary to our taste. He says that we should not model Divine Law according to our liking, but rather model our liking according to the will of God. Yet despite these strong statements, he was also sensitive to those who were not comfortable with sacrifices. He writes as follows (p. 452):

References to the Sacrificial Service, and especially prayers for its restoration, are disliked by some, who think such restoration undesirable. Let no one pray for a thing against his will; let him whose heart is not with his fellow-worshippers in any of their supplications silently substitute his own prayers for them; but let him not interfere with the devotion of those to whom “the statues of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart” . . . and who yearn for the opportunity of fulfilling Divine commandments which they cannot observe at present.

This passage is quoted by British Chief Rabbi Joseph Hertz in his Authorised Daily Prayer Book, p. 532. Upon seeing this, R. Yerucham Leiner, then living in London, wrote a letter to the Jewish Chronicle (Dec. 17, 1943; I learnt of this from Louis Jacobs, Tree of Life, second ed., p. xxix). Before quoting from his letter, let me reproduce what Wikipedia says about this most incredible figure.

Grand Rabbi Yerucham Leiner of Radzin, son of Likutei Divrei Torah, author of Tiferes Yerucham, Zikaron LaRishonim, Mipi Hashmua, Zohar HaRakiya. Moved from Chelm to London to America. Continuation of the Radziner line in America, and one of the last direct descendants of the Leiner family. After the war, he did not reinstitute the wearing of techeiles as other branches of Radzin did, even though his father, Grand Rabbi Avraham Yehoshua Heschel Leiner of Radzin-Chelm, wore them, as he was a chosid of his older brother, the Orchos Chayim, who had reinstituted the wearing of techeiles. Reb Yerucham believed that the original formula of his uncle was lost during the war. This is the reason that his family doesn’t wear techeiles today, only pairs that were left from pre-war Europe. Reb Yerucham was an expert in all areas of Torah and scholarship. There existed very few admorim/tzaddikim since the beginning of Chassidus who were also lamdanim in both the Polish and Lithuanian styles of learning, bibliographers, Jewish historians, very learned in Kabbalah works, philologists, and masters of both the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds. Reb Yerucham was very close with the Satmar Rebbe, Rabbi Yoelish Teitelbaum ZTVK”L. He always made sure to spend a few weeks vacationing with the him, specifically learning Midrashei Chazal, of which they were both masters. He studied and visited with Rabbi Yitzchok Hutner, and they were good friends in later life. They always treated one another with special respect. He established the Radziner shtiebel in Boro Park. Died 20 Av 5724 (1964). Buried in Beth Israel Cemetery, Woodbridge, New Jersey

Responding to the quote from Friedlaender, Leiner wrote: “This opinion was put forward by the founders of Reform Judaism, Holdheim and Geiger. But it is hardly in accord with Orthodox traditions of Judaism.” The editor of the Jewish Chronicle responsed: “The words quoted with regard to the Musaph are those of the great and sainted scholar, Dr. Michael Friedlander, for 42 years Principal of Jews College: and it is certainly strange to class him with Holdheim and Geiger.”

The most famous of our sages to speak of a Messianic era without animal sacrifices is, of course, R. Kook, who envisions vegetable sacrifices. He writes this in his commentary to the siddur, Olat ha-Reiyah, vol. 1, p. 292. In the preface R. Zvi Yehudah tells us that he began writing this commentary during World War I. I don’t need to go into any detail on this, as I have done so already in The Limits of Orthodox Theology, where I also mention passages in R. Kook’s writings that offer a different approach. The notion that there will only be vegetable sacrifices in Messianic days is, of course, a radical position, and many who don’t know R. Kook’s writings find it impossible to accept that he could have said this. This is what happened when R. Yosef Kanefsky of Los Angeles published an essay in which he mentioned R. Kook’s view.3 He was attacked by some prominent rabbis since they found it impossible to believe that R. Kook could say what was attributed to him. Yet it was Kanefsky who was right, not his opponents.

In my book I dealt with R. Kook’s position on sacrifices, because positing that there will be no sacrifices in the future would seem to be in contradiction to Maimonides’ Principle that the commandments of the Torah are eternal. That consideration is precisely what makes his position so radical. A couple of years ago one of R. Kook’s notebooks dating from his time as rabbi in Bausk, which lasted until 1904, was published. We actually have two publications of this, one by Boaz Ofen called Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 2008), and the other, which comes out of the world of Merkaz ha-Rav, called Pinkesei ha-Reiyah (Jerusalem, 2008).

This is not the first competing publications of the same material by these people, and as I will show in my forthcoming book, the Merkaz editions are tainted by censorship in that “problematic” passages are removed.4 Those who claim to be the greatest adherents of R. Kook have once again taken it upon themselves to save their master from himself, as it were, and decided which writings of R. Kook should appear and which should not. Yet in the passage I am interested in now (no. 8 in the Ofen edition and no. 6 in the Merkaz edition), the two books are identical. The passage is very significant since it shows you that even in his earlier years R. Kook had the same notion later expressed in Olat ha-Reiyah, that the future would only know vegetable sacrifices. (In case people are wondering, R. Kook was not a vegetarian. Yet he did see vegetarianism as part of the eschatological future. His great student, the Nazir, was a vegetarian, as was Nazir’s son-in-law, R. Shlomo Goren, and as is his son, R. Shear Yashuv Cohen.5)

This passage gives us new insight into R. Kook’s view of sacrifices, and how things will change in the future era. He begins by speaking of the abandonment of meat-eating in the Messianic era, since this will not be something that people desire. Recall that in speaking of eating meat, the Torah writes (Deut. 12:6): כי תאוה נפשך לאכל בשר, which means “when thy soul desires to eat meat.” The Messianic era is not a time when people will have this desire, as R. Kook also explains in his famous essay on vegetarianism, “Afikim ba-Negev”.

What about the sacrifices that are required by the Torah? R. Kook offers a few possibilities. One is that sacrifices will still be necessary. Yet he also speculates that perhaps certain animals will be so spiritually advanced that they will on their own offer themselves as sacrifices, in acknowledgment of the great benefit that will come to them and the world through their actions.6 This solves the problem of people deliberately killing animals, which goes against his conception of the eschaton.

What is most interesting for our purpose is another suggestion by R. Kook, namely, that the Sanhedrin will use its power to uproot a matter from the Torah in order to abolish obligatory animal sacrifices. Their reason for doing this will be that the killing of animals will no longer be part of the culture in Messianic days. R. Kook even shows how the Rabbis will be able to find support for this step from the Torah. What he is doing, I think, is imagining himself as part of the future Sanhedrin that abolishes sacrifices, and informing us of the derashah that will be used to support this. This is related to what I wrote in an earlier post, see here, and I repeat it now:

As to the general problem of laws that trouble the ethical sense of people, we find that it is R. Kook who takes the bull by the horns and suggests a radical approach. The issue was much more vexing for R. Kook than for other sages, as in these types of matters he could not simply tell people that their consciences were leading them astray and that they should submerge their inherent feelings of right and wrong. It is R. Kook, after all, who famously says that fear of heaven cannot push aside one’s natural morality (Shemonah Kevatzim 1:75):

אסור ליראת שמים שתדחק את המוסר הטבעי של האדם, כי אז אינה עוד יראת שמים טהורה. סימן ליראת שמים טהורה הוא, כשהמוסר הטבעי, הנטוע בטבע הישר של האדם, הולך ועולה על פיה במעלות יותר גבוהות ממה שהוא עומד מבלעדיה. אבל אם תצוייר יראת שמים בתכונה כזאת, שבלא השפעתה על החיים היו החיים יותר נוטים לפעול טוב, ולהוציא אל הפועל דברים מועילים לפרט ולכלל, ועל פי השפעתה מתמעט כח הפועל ההוא, יראת שמים כזאת היא יראה פסולה.

These are incredible words. R. Kook was also “confident that if a particular moral intuition reflecting the divine will achieves widespread popularity, it will no doubt enable the halakhic authorities to find genuine textual basis for their new understanding.” R. Kook formulates his idea as follows (Iggerot ha-Reiyah, vol. 1, p. 103):

ואם תפול שאלה על איזה משפט שבתורה, שלפי מושגי המוסר יהיה נראה שצריך להיות מובן באופן אחר, אז אם באמת ע”פ ב”ד הגדול יוחלט שזה המשפט לא נאמר כ”א באותם התנאים שכבר אינם, ודאי ימצא ע”ז מקור בתורה.

R. Kook is not speaking about apologetics here, but a revealing of Torah truth that was previously hidden. The truth is latent, and with the development of moral ideas, which is driven by God, the new insight in the Torah becomes apparent.

Ad kan leshoni in the previous post.

In other words, R. Kook sees the Sanhedrin as able to actualize new moral and religious insights that have become apparent. That is why it is important for the Sanhedrin to use derashot when dealing with these matters, as this shows that the idea is not something new that has been developed, but something that was latent in the Torah, and only now has become apparent.

So what derashah can be used to justify an abolishment of animal sacrifices? R. Kook points to Num 28:2: את קרבני לחמי לאשי . This is usually translated as “My food which is presented to Me for offerings made by fire”. Yet the word לחמי actually means “my bread.” Right after this, in discussing the particulars of the sacrifice, the Torah states: “The one lamb thou shalt offer in the morning.” R. Kook’s proposed messianic derashah is: “Whenever animals are killed for personal consumption, you should use them for sacrifices, but when they are not killed for personal use, make sacrifices of bread.”

I don’t think I am exaggerating in saying that this is one of the most provocative and radical texts in R. Kook’s writings. I say this not because of his advocacy of abolishing sacrifices, which I don’t think to be that significant in the larger scheme, but due to how he is envisioning the process by which the Rabbis will actually use derashot to create a Messianic Judaism.

The Rambam, Hilkhot Mamrim 2:1, speaks of laws derived from the hermeneutical principles that can be altered by a future beit din ha-gadol (even one not as great as the one that established the original law). This was the great fear of the opponents of a reconstituted Sanhedrin, that the Mizrachi rabbis would take upon themselves to do precisely this. Since so many of our laws are based on derashot, Judaism as we practice it can be entirely reworked. R. Kook is showing us how this can be done, but he is going further than anything Maimonides envisioned, since sacrifices are not matters that have been established based on a rabbinic derashah but are commanded by explicit biblical verses.

Basically, what R. Kook is doing is recreating the world of the Pharisees, before Judaism was bound to codes (beginning with the Mishnah). It was a time when Jewish law was developing and the biblical verses could be read—some would say “read”— in all sorts of ways. In the days of the Pharisees much of the halakhah as we know it was created, and to a large extent that can be done again in the Messianic era.

Here are R. Kook’s words (note also his exegesis with ריח ניחוח) :

שהסנהדרין אז ימצאו לנכון, ע”פ הכח שיש להם לעקור דבר מה”ת בשוא”ת, לפטור מקרבנות החובה של מין החי, כיון שכבר חדלה הריגת החי מן המנהג של תשמישי הרשות והמקרא מסייע, שקרא הכתוב לקרבן לחם, “את קרבני לחמי לאשי”, ואח”כ אומר “את הכבש אחד”, הא כיצד? כל זמן שבע”ח קרבים לתשמיש הרשות, עשה בע”ח לגבוה, אבל כשבע”ח אינם קרבים לרשות, עשה הקרבנות מלחם, ועל זה רמזו חז”ל: “כל הקרבנות בטלין וקרבן תודה אינה בטלה” שיש בה לחם . . . רק כעת עד זמן ההשלמה תאמר להם שיקריבו כבשים, ומותנה תמיד לריח ניחוח, וכיון שיבורר בזמן ההשלמה שהריגת הבע”ח [אינה ראויה] אי אפשר שתהיה לריח ניחוח.

R. Kook then cites the proof he mentions in Olat ha-Reiyah and in his essay “Afikim ba-Negev” (Otzarot ha-Reiyah [Rishon le-Tziyon, 2002], vol. 2, p. 103), that Malachi 3:4 writes: וערבה לה’ מנחת יהודה וירושלים כימי עולם וכשנים קדמוניות . This verse, in speaking of a sacrificial offering in Messianic days, mentions the minhah sacrifice, which is not an animal offering.

As mentioned, the passage from R. Kook is so interesting because it shows that he was not merely thinking about the Messianic era, but also the actual functioning of the future Sanhedrin. He was imagining the derashot that could be used to “update” Judaism. I am unaware if this aspect of R. Kook’s thought was known before the publication of this latest volume. I also don’t know if any scholars have taken note of it even subsequent to the publication. However, in “Afikim ba-Negev” (Otzarot ha-Reiyah, vol. 2, p. 103), R. Kook also, in an offhand sentence, provides a possible derashah to justify the abolishment of sacrifices. He doesn’t develop the idea, but just puts it out there. Here is the sentence:

והגביל “לרצונכם תזבחהו” (ויקרא יט, ה) שיהיה אפשר וראוי לומר “רוצה אני”. (רש”י על ויקרא א, ג).

The Talmud, Rosh ha-Shanah 6a, which is quoted by Rashi, Lev, 1:3, states that one cannot bring a sacrifice unless it arises from one’s free will. Now the Talmud, which is speaking of one particular sacrifice, actually says that we force him to bring it until he agrees, and this means that he is “willing.” But R. Kook is using this passage to hint at a different matter. In future times, when sacrifices will be so far from human sentiment, it will be impossible to do it willingly. The derashah, לרצונכם תזבחהו , will then come into play. Since this teaches that one can only bring a sacrifice when one is willing, at a time when animal sacrifices are not considered acceptable, and thus not something people “want” to do, animal sacrifices will no longer be a requirement. Remember, R. Kook describes this future era as one in which the animals will be far advanced of what they are now. It is only when the animals are at the low state that they currently are, that we can offer them as sacrifices and eat them. He writes (Otzarot ha-Reiyah, vol. 2, p. 101), in a passage in which animals are compared to one’s children:

מי לא יבין שאי אפשר להעלות על הדעת שיקח האדם את בניו, ברוח אשר יטפחם וירבה אותם להיטיב ולהשכיל, ויזבחם וישפך דמם?

The texts we have seen are important in explaining how his viewpoint of the abolishment of sacrifices relates to the Ninth Principle of Maimonides. As mentioned, in my book I listed R. Kook’s view as being in opposition to the Principle. R. Kook is certainly great enough to disagree with Maimonides in this matter had he chosen to. Yet we see from his newly published writings that he would not have regarded himself in disagreement, because he understands the abolishment of sacrifices to be carried out in a purely halakhic fashion. Since the Rabbis have the exegetical authority to do such things, an authority given to them by the Torah, we are not speaking of a revision of Torah law. This case is then no different than any of the other examples where the Sages interpret Torah law different that the peshat of the verse.

Returning to the newly published text, R. Kook’s imagination continues to run, and he doesn’t stop with sacrifices. In my book I called attention to R. Hayyim Halberstam’s view that in Messianic days the first born will take the place of the kohanim. R. Kook must have been attracted to this view for kabbalistic reasons, and here he provides a possible basis for how this too can be justified by the Rabbis. He also notes that since the change can be justified, “it is not uprooting a Torah matter, but rather fulfilling the Torah.”! In other words, built into the Torah is the notion that the kohanim would only be temporarily in charge of the divine worship. R. Kook argues that since the First Born were removed from their role because of the sin of the Golden Calf, it is impossible for the effects of this sin to last forever, as repentance is a more powerful force. Therefore, when the sin of the Golden Calf is atoned for there will no longer any reason for the First Born to be kept from the Avodah, and it will return to them.

Following this, R. Kook offers another way of explaining why his view of sacrifices should not be seen as a “reform” or as evidence of the Torah changing (he obviously was sensitive to this point). He says ויש לדרוש, in other words, he is once again providing the halakhic justification that can be used by a future Sanhedrin in abolishing sacrifices. His new exegetical reasoning goes as follows: The obligation of animal sacrifices was only intended for an era when the kohanim were in charge of the Avodah. This is how one is to understand the verse (Lev. 11:1) ושחט אותו על ירך המזבח . . . וזרקו בני אהרן הכהנים את דמו. In other words, it is only to the descendants of Aaron that animal sacrifice is commanded,

אבל כשיהיו כשרים ג”כ בכורות, אז מטעם העילוי של בע”ח וכלל המציאות אין הבע”ח נהוגים כ”א לחם ומנחה . . . וכך הוא המדה בכל מקום שנמצא פסוק בתורה וסברא ישרה שיש כח ביד ב”ד הגדול, מכש”כ כבצירוף הנביאים לפסוק הוראת גדולות כאלה.

Note that R. Kook ties together a verse in the Torah with logic. When both are present, then the Beit Din ha-Gadol is able to act in order to make adjustments to Torah law. In this matter, the “sevarah yesharah” is the sense that animal sacrifices will not suitable for the future eschatological era, and the verses in the Torah that he cites give “cover” to the sevarah yesharah. That is, they provide the exegetical justification. (I wonder though, is R. Kook really correct when he implies that the only time the Sages could uproot a commandment was when they also had a biblical verse to justify this?)

R. Kook concludes that all that he is speaking about is a long way off, and it is possible that the Resurrection will come before this and then all sorts of things will change. Yet all his prior ruminations here are about a pre-Resurrection era, when the Beit Din ha-Gadol is functioning and adjusting Torah law by means of derashot and sevarah yesharah. This is not the sort of thing that will be taking place post-Resurrection.7

Finally, lest anyone start using R. Kook’s thoughts in an antinomian fashion, he throws in the following for good measure:

וזה היה מקור תרבות והרע ד”אחר”, שחזי שהמצות יש להן יחש מוגבל ותכליתי, חשב שבאמת אפשר להתעלות למעלה מהמעשים, גם בלא עת, ובאמת הכל אחדות יחיד היה הוה ויהיה, וכל עת וזמן את חובותיה נשמור, בלא נדנוד צל פקפוק.

Earlier in this post, I referred to the implications of R. Kook’s ideas with regard to Jewish law being adjusted because of new moral insights. In fact, I think it is R. Kook who provides the most comprehensive and satisfying approach to this issue. I don’t want to get into that subject at present, as I plan on returning to it, especially as a number of people have written to me about R. Kook’s views. In my future post I will illustrate my point by citing a number of examples of rulings and statements by mainstream halakhists from earlier centuries which could never be made today. The only way to explain this, I will argue, is that there has been a change in societal norms and this has made certain approaches not just practically impossible but simply wrong for our times. (See here where I cite in this regard R. Weinberg and R. Aviner.) However, I promised someone that I would give one example in this post, so here it is. R. Hayyim Benveniste, Keneset ha-Gedolah, Even ha-Ezer 154, Hagahot Beit Yosef no. 59, in discussing when we can force a husband to give a divorce, writes as follows:

ובעל משפט צדק ח”א סי’ נ”ט כתב דאפי’ רודף אחריה בסכין להכותה אין כופין אותו לגרש ואפי’ לו’ לו שחייב להוציא.

Can anyone imagine a posek, from even the most right-wing community, advocating such a viewpoint? I assume the logic behind this position is that even if the man is running after her with the knife, we don’t assume that he will actually kill her. He must just be doing it to scare her, and that is not enough of a reason to force him to divorce her. And if we are wrong, and he really does kill her? I guess the reply would be that this isn’t anything we could have anticipated even if we saw the knife in his hand, sort of like all those who have let pedophiles run loose in the yeshivot, presumably on the assumption that just because a man abused children in the past, that doesn’t mean that he will continue to do so.8

Notes

1 Among other interesting passages in this book, see p. 24, where he objects to people who write “ethical wills.” Quite apart from the frauds who wrote them, in order to show that they were really great people when they were in fact far from it, many tzadikim also wrote these wills. Yet Scheinfeld says that this was a mistake, since many of their children, and even more their grandchildren, assimilated among the Gentiles. He continues by lamenting how much worse things have gotten in his day:

ובימינו אלה בודאי אינו מהראוי לכתוב צוואות, כמעט כל הבנים מתרחקים והולכים מדרכי אביהם, אינם רוצים ואינם יכולים ללכת בדרכיהם: “וכשם שמצוה לאמר דבר הנשמע, כך מצוה שלא לאמר דבר שאינו נשמע.”

On pp. 82-83 he criticizes the “inflation” with regard to rabbinic titles that he saw in his day, and which has increased a great deal more since his time. Here is a very good example of this “inflation,” from responsa written by R. Moshe Malka, Ve-Heshiv Moshe, nos. 34-35. In this case I can guarantee you that the recipient is not deserving of the titles he has been given.

For another example of such exalted titles with regard to a non-rabbinic figure, see R. Michel Shurkin, Meged Giv’ot Olam (Jerusalem, 2005), vol. 2, p. 5, who is speaking of Prof. Samuel Soloveitchik:

כיוצא בזה ראיתי מעשה, כשבשנת תשכ”ז נפטרו במשך תקופה קצרה אחיו של הגרי”ב זצ”ל, הגאון ר’ שמואל זצ”ל . . .

In R. Weinberg’s letter to Samuel Atlas, published in Torah u-Madda Journal 7 (1997), pp. 107-108, he writes: “’Geonim’ sprout up there as grass in the field. Those who were emissaries of the yeshivot and unimportant mashgihim have overnight become outstanding geonim.”

For more on the nonsense of elaborate titles of praise, see the many sources quoted by R. Pinchas Meyers, Nahalat Pinchas (Jerusalem, 1995), vol., 2, no. 41. See also R. Chaim Hirschensohn, Malki ba-Kodesh, vol. 1, p. 90, vol. 6, pp. 198, 200, 237-238.

Returning to Scheinfeld, here is what he has to say on the topic (pp. 82-83):

לרב פשוט מתארים “הרב הגאון”. לרב גדול בתורה באמת מתארים “מאור הגולה, בקי בכל חדרי התורה”. באמעריקא, ארץ החנופה והשקר, מתארים לכל דרשן פטפטן “הרב המטיף הגדול, פה מפיק מרגליות” ועוד. מגוזמים, מגוחכים עוד יותר תוארי-הכבוד של רביי החסידים: “אד”מור, סבא קדישא, בוצינא קדישא, צדיק יסוד עולם, בנן של קדושים, פרי צדיק, גזע ישישים, פטיש החזק, עמוד הימיני” ועוד ועוד. בעולם הקולטורי נוהגים: כשכותבים מכתב לאדם שקבל התואר Ph.D. מאיזה בית מדעים, מתארים אותו בתואר דר. ודי בזה. אפילו כשכותבים לדר. איינשטיין, לא היה שום אדם כותב: “כבוד הדר. החוזה בכוכבים, נהירין לו שבילי דרקיע” ועוד, דברים שהם ראויים לייחס לו באמת.

After seeing what the term “Gaon” has become in our time, it is worth recalling what appears in R. Malachi ha-Kohen, Yad Malachi, Kelalei ha-Geonim 1. If we use the following definition of Gaon, you can count the living geonim on one hand, and perhaps still have some fingers not counted:

ושמעתי אומרים שתנאי הגאון היה לידע ש”ס על פה גמ’ ומשניות.

The Hatam Sofer states (She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer ha-Hadashot, Yoreh Deah no. 33):

ידע מעלתו מיום שהורגלו בני מדינתו בתואר “גאון אמיתי”, גילו ופרסמו שסתם גאון אינו אמיתי, אבל חוששני שגם אמיתי אינו אמת.

The exaggerated titles are most often found in haskamot, and with this in mind see the haskamah published by Jacob Goldman in his book Peret ve-Olelot (Jerusalem, 1930).

This is not the only example of an author giving himself a haskamah (the Aderet comes to mind), but I think it is the only example of an author giving himself a haskamah which tells the world how unqualified he is.

2 See Louis J. Swichkow and Lloyd P. Gartner, The History of the Jews of Milwaukee (Philadelphia, 1963), p. 209.

3 “Willingness to Sacrifice,” Jewish Journal, available here

4 Speaking of editions, I don’t understand why people continue to cite works such as Orot and Orot ha-Kodesh. Now that we are fortunate to have the Shemonah Kevatzim, and can cite R. Kook from the source, why would anyone continue to refer to writings that have been edited, and touched up, by R. Zvi Yehudah and the Nazir?

5 In an earlier post I called attention to Joseph Ibn Caspi’s incredible comments about how we are to treat animals, wherein he notes that “we are very close to them and we both have one father”!

See here.

Elsewhere in Caspi’s writings we see ambivalence towards eating meat. There too he explains that that an animal is אחינו בן אבינו החי

He also writes

עיקר הכוונה שלא נאכל בשר, כי יספיקו לנו הצמחים. ולכן בבראשית לא הותר לנו רק עשב השדה, ואחר המבול נתפשט אכילת בעלי החיים שהוא כאילו נאכל אבינו [!] כי הוא סוגנו [סוג שלנו] הקרוב

Both of these sources, from Caspi’s Gevia Kesef, p. 31, and Metzaref le-Kesef, p. 294, are cited in Hannah Kasher, “‘Eikh Yetzavenu ha-Shem La’asot Toevah ka-Zot:’ Bikoret Akedat Yitzhak al pi R. Yosef Ibn Caspi,” Et ha-Da’at 1 (1997), p. 41.

For an opposing viewpoint to that of Caspi, see R. Gershon Ashkenazi, Avodat ha-Gershuni, no. 13:

צער בעלי חיים לא שייך אלא בבעל חיים כשהוא בחיים חיותו . . . מי שנוחר את הבהמה במקום שיוכל לשחטה אין בזה משום צער בעלי חיים, וכי הבהמה אחינו הוא לברור לה מיתה יפה.

R. Zvi Yehudah Kook, Or li-Netivati, pp. 245-246, expresses himself similarly to Caspi:

בהשקפת האחדות השלמה לא נראה את עצמנו בתור דבר פרטי מיוחד בפני עצמו, וכן לא את כל אחד ואחד מכל יצורי עולם, לא את החי, לא את הצומח ולא את הדומם, אלא כולם וכולנו דבר אחד ממש . . . לא זה אוכל את זה כי אם הכל אוכל את הכל.

For the view, expressed by a couple of rishonim as well as the Aderet, that before his sin Adam was permitted to eat meat, see R. Bezalel Naor, Ma’amar al Yishmael (Spring Valley, 2008), pp. 52ff. (first pagination; there is an enormous amount of learning in this book. In addition, it opens with a Hebrew letter to Naor from Prof. Isadore Twersky.).

6 In the following section (no. 9 in the Ofen edition and censored from the Merkaz edition for reasons unclear), he offers another possible reason for the continuation of sacrifices:

יתכן שימשכו הקורבנות גם בזמן התקופה של השלמת הבעלי חיים רק בתור עזר לתקן הנפשות המגולגלות בבהמות, וכפי המעלה הגדולה של הדעת אז תהי’ הדעת ברורה מי יבוחר לקרבן.

7 Regarding the authority of the Court to uproot a mitzvah from the Torah, see the interesting observation of R. Hayyim Hirschensohn, Commentary to Horayot, vol. 1, p. 3b (Hirschensohn’s numbering):

אמר ר’ יוסי לא שהורו מותר לאכל חלב יודעין היו שאסור לאכול חלב והתורה נתנה רשות לב”ד להורות, וזה לא נקרא לדעת הירושלמי עקירת כל הגוף, שטעו שיש כח לב”ד לעקור דבר מן התורה אפילו בקום ועשה, וזה נקרא הגוף קים רק עקירת מקצת, לאמר שאין נצחיות ח”ו לחוקי התורה שיוכל הב”ד לעקרם כרצונם, כדעת רבני הרפארים היום החושבים שמפני צורך הזמן יכולים להתר איסורים מפורשים וקבועים בתורה, ולא נקראים בזה כופרים בעיקר, רק ב”ד טועים ולו הי’ בהם שאר תנאי פר העלם דבר היו חייבים עדת הראפרים בפר העלם דבר.

8 There is another theory as to why the sectarian hasidic world in particular has had so many cases of covering up and defending child sex abusers. It is that they simply do not regard these people as so terrible. The evidence for this appears obvious, in that in case of after case we see that they continue to allow sex abusers to teach and refuse to turn them over to the authorities and warn the parent body. Had they caught the rebbe eating at McDonald’s, you can be sure he would have been fired, but not so when it comes to fooling around with kids. The question is why do they have this outlook, and how come they don’t regard child sex abusers as so terrible? Here is a possible answer (which a wise person suggested). Look at where these societies get their information about human nature, the information that they regard as authentic and true. It does not come from modern psychology, but from Torah sources and folk beliefs. If you look only at traditional rabbinic literature, you won’t conclude that child sex abuse is as terrible as modern society views it. Yes, it is a sin and the person who commits it must repent as he must do with all sins, but there is nothing in the traditional literature that speaks to the great trauma suffered by the victim. How do we know about this trauma? Only from modern psychology and the testimony of the victims. Yet this type of evidence does not have much significance in the insular hasidic world (unless it is your own child who has been abused). Certainly modern psychology, which is often attacked by figures in that community, is not given much credence, especially not when they are confronted with an issur of mesirah. This theory makes a lot of sense to me and I am curious to hear what others have to say.

Kosher Tube: TV Series on the 13 Principles

TV Series on the Thirteen Principles
by: Marc B. Shapiro

My next post will, God willing, appear after Pesah (in three parts). In the meantime, I wanted to let readers know about the thirteen episodes of a show focusing on the Thirteen Principles. It is called Credo 13 and you can find it here.
It appeared on Canadian television and “stars” myself, David Novak. Benjamin Hecht, Shalom Carmy, Eliezer Breitowitz, Mayer Schiller, and Leib Tropper. (If you can’t tolerate, or figure out, the game played by the girls in the show, just fast-forward through that section. Also, for some reason the quality of parts 10-13 is not perfect).
I was very impressed with the speakers, in particular Rabbi Breitowitz. Unlike the others, I had never heard of him, and found him to be a very insightful and really wonderful member of the “team”. The one weak link, in my opinion, was Leib Tropper, and I say this without any connection to recent events. Apart from the fact that he speaks as if he is talking to yeshiva bochurim rather than the larger community, there are times when he is simply wrong. For example, what he says in part 8 about the text of the Torah is based on a misunderstanding, and contrast what he says with the perceptive comments of Schiller and Hecht.
On this topic, in my book I cited a number of examples of authors who have no knowledge of the history of the Torah text[1] (or perhaps they do have knowledge, but are consciously engaged in the creation of a religious myth). A recent example of this is R. Ezriel Tauber, Pirkei Mahashavah al Yod Gimel Ikarei ha-Emunah (Jerusalem, 2008). This is what he says regarding the text of the Torah (p. 206):

עינינו הרואות כי מסורת זו נשמרה בישראל עד לימינו. ואף על פי שכלל ישראל התפזרו לארבע כנפות הארץ, בכל אופן כל ספרי התורה של כל העדות בכל התקופות ובכל המקומות הם בנוסח אחיד, והם זהים. זוהי תופעה מופלאה מאד שלאחר העתקות כה רבות וטלטולים נותרו כל ספרי התורה באותו נוסח.

What is one to make of such a statement? Can it be that Tauber really knows so little about this matter? Is he ignorant of a number of famous talmudic passages, of numerous teshuvot of rishonim and aharonim that deal with differences in Torah texts, of the famous comment of R. Akiva Eger? Does he not know anything about the Masoretes, and the work of Rambam, R. Meir ha-Levi Abulafia, R. Menahem Lonzano, and R. Yedidiah Solomon Norzi to establish a correct text? Does he not know that as we speak, the Yemenite text is not identical to the Ashkenazic and Sephardic texts?
I don’t for a minute think that Tauber, who is a very learned man, is ignorant of any of this. In fact, elsewhere in his book one finds a different perspective (p. 215):

בכל תפוצות ישראל אין הבדל משמעותי בין ספרי התורה

Is there any way to explain what Tauber is doing other than assuming that in the first passage I cite he is creating a religious myth, but his true opinion is reflected in the second passage?
Perhaps another example of his creation of a religious myth is the following comment, which is designed to illustrate the universal nature of Jewish observance despite the myriad of details in halakhah (p. 216):

אם באנו למנות את כל הדינים וההלכות הכלולים בזוג תפילין, נגיע לכשלושים אלף הלכות!

Correct me if I’m wrong, but it seems to me that this can only be read as לשון גוזמא , in other words, designed to impress and inspire, rather than being factual. Rashbam states (Pesahim 119a):

משוי שלש מאות: לאו דוקא וכן כל שלש מאות שבש”ס

R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes brings a bunch of other talmudic examples where the number 300 is used in an exaggerated fashion.[2] I think we can say the same thing about the number 30,000 in Rabbi Tauber’s book.
With regard to the text of the Torah, in Limits, p. 97 n. 41, I discussed the different readings of the word דכא vs. דכה in Deut. 23:2. I stated that Ashkenazim and Sephardim read it with a heh and Yemenites read it with an aleph. This is also how the matter is described in the responsum of R. Ovadiah Yosef that I refer to in this note. Yet matters are actually more complicated than this. R. Chaim Rapoport informs me that the Chabad practice is to write with an aleph. Furthermore, there was also an old Ashkenazic minhag to write it with an aleph.[3]
Right before I was going to post this, S. of On the Main Line asked me if I could make sense of a sentence that appeared in a Yated Neeman article entitled “Letter by Letter: The Story of the Romm Publishing House and the Vilna Shas”, available here.
The strange sentence reads: “The first manuscript that the Romm family obtained was Rabbenu Chananel’s commentary which now appears alongside the gemora on many masechtos. The manuscript was kept in the Vatican archives but it had not been well preserved. The pages were very worn and were marked by rust stains, while the edges of the sheets had been eaten away. Moreover, the commentary was written in Latin characters, which made deciphering and copying it much harder.”
One doesn’t need to be an expert in Hebrew manuscripts to realize that this is real howler. But S. wondered where they got got the idea that R. Hananel’s commentary was written in Latin characters. Before I was able to examine the matter carefully, Dan replied with the answer. The whole article is taken (and censored) from an earlier article by Shmuel Shraga Feigensohn,[4] as Dan has already shown. See here. As for the information about the Latin characters, Dan points to this passage

בראשית שמנו לבנו להעתיק כתב יד פירושו של רבנו חננאל בר חושיאל ז”ל (מימי המאה השמינית לאלף החמישי) על מסכתות רבות מתלמוד בבלי שנמצאו באוצר הספרים שבוואטיקאן ברומי והכתב הוא באותיות רש”י בצורות איטאליאניות [נוסח איטלקי] אשר רוב ישראל בזמננו לא כהלין כתבא דא למקריה

What this mean is that the manuscript was written in the Hebrew script popular in Italy, which was not easy for non-Italians read. The anonymous person who wrote this article thought that this referred to Latin characters! (Rashi letters in Latin characters!)
When reading this passage I was reminded of another error, this time not by an anonymous Yated writer, but, bi-mehilat kevodo, by Rabban shel Yisrael, R. Moses Isserles. In his responsa, no. 128, he suggests that Rashi’s commentary to the Torah was written in the vernacular, which I assume means French, and only later translated into Hebrew. It is a mystery how he came up with this bizarre idea. R. Asher Siev, in his edition of the responsa, writes about Rama’s suggestion:

השערה תמוהה ומיוסדת על סברת עצמו ולא על שום בסיס היסטורי או עובדתי

In the subsequent responsum, no. 129, R. Samuel Katzenellenbogen writes to Rama:

והס שלא להזכיר שפירוש רש”י לא נעשה בלשון הקדש כאשר כתב אדוני

As I noted in an earlier post, it is possible to find at least one strange idea in even the greatest of our sages.

Notes

[1] I neglected to cite Yosef Reinman, who writes as follows in One People, Two Worlds, p. 119:

[A]n examination of Torah scrolls from all over the world, from Ireland to Siberia to isolated Yemen, all handwritten by scribes, yielded just nine instances of one-letter spelling discrepancies. Nine! And none of them affect the meaning of the text. Why is this so? Because every week we take out the scrolls and read them in public. The people follow the reading closely and if something is wrong, they are quick to point it out.

Unfortunately, Reinman doesn’t realize that it was the invention of printing that unified Torah texts by creating a standard version that soferim could have access to and be guided from. Printed humashim also enabled people listening to the reading to point out errors. Yet let us not forget that most of the differences in Torah scrolls have concerned male and haser. Contrary to Reinman’s implication in his last sentence, there is no way for the people following the reading to catch such an error.
I also must point out that Reinman’s first sentence is an egregious error, and one doesn’t need to go to Ireland or Siberia to prove this (and, of course, no one has ever performed such an examination). If one simply takes fifty Torah scrolls from Lakewood one will find all sorts of discrepancies. I know this because the people who check sifrei Torah by computer claim that the overwhelming majority of scrolls they check, including those that have been in use for decades, have contained at least one error. In other words, contrary to what Reinman is statng, the truth of Torah does not rise or fall because of scribal errors. If it did, then we would be in big trouble because as I just mentioned, almost every Torah scroll in the world has discrepancies. What Reinman doesn’t seem to get is that while contemporary halakhic authorities are in dispute about only nine letters, this has nothing to do with the quality of actual Torah scrolls, which are obviously subject to human errors by scribes.
For the information on errors in Torah scrolls, including eye-opening pictures, see Kolmos, Elul 5748. Here is part of R. Shmuel Wosner’s letter quoted on p. 7

עכשיו שנכנס עבודת הקאמפיוטער בזה למסלולו, ונתברר על ידו לתמהון לבב כולנו, שמבערך ששים ספרים, ס”ת שהיו בחזקת בדוקים יצאו רק תשע ספרים נקיים מכל שגיאה וברובא דמינכר מאד נמצאו שגיאות פוסלות לרוב. וכן בדידן הוי עובדא בס”ת שנכתב ע”ש תלמידים גדולים וצדיקים שנספו בעו”ה, נמצאו ה’ טעיות ממש בחסר ויתר

[2] Mavo ha-Talmud, ch. 30 and his comment to Sotah 34a. For more on rabbinic exaggerations when it comes to numbers, see R. David Yoel Weiss, Megadim Hadashim (Jerusalem, 2008), Berakhot 51b.
[3] For details, see R. Yaakov Hayim Sofer in Mekabtziel 35 (Tishrei 5769), p. 124; R. Avihai Yitzhak, Masoret Teman be-Of (Zichron Yaakov, 2009), pp. 188ff.
[4] Yahadut Lita (Tel Aviv, 1959), vol. 1, pp. 268-296. See also Feigensohn’s Aharit Davar, at the end of the Romm ed. of Nidda.

Update from Dr.Ezra Chwat of the Giluy Milta B’alma blog:
R’ Hananel in the Vilna edition employed three manuscripts. Vatican 126/128 covers all of Moe’d. The missing pages at the beginning of 126 (Yoma 2-8) are also missing in print. This is in a clear, undamaged Ashkenazic square hand, perfectly legible even to laymen. More on Vatican 126/128 here: http://nli.org.il/imhm/vaticanhebmss.pdf Pages 91-92. Bava Qama and Bava Metzia are from London BL Add. 27194 (cat. 408), as both include only BQ 2-37 and BM 2-51. This is manuscript slightly less legible. The rest of Neziqin is from Rome, Angelica (not Vatican) 83. The censor’s erasure of 4 lines on fol. 100 (on Sanhedrin 43b), is described in respective daf in Vilna, in the editors footnote. Had the Vilna editors used the BL copy mentioned above, which continues to the end of Nezikin (except for Horiyot), they would not have omitted the page on Sanhedrin 18, which is missing from Angelica (between fols. 81-82), nor the missing line on Sanhedrin 43a, both are copied in BL. This is in Italian semi-cursive hand, slightly more difficult than the others. More on the uncensored Talmud and R’ Hananel on Sanhedrin 43 (of particular interest to Daf yomi participants, coming up, how hauntingly appropriate, this Shabbat Hagadol)Here: http://imhm.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html

Elliott Horowitz – “”Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids…’ Reading Esther before Bed”

Elliott Horowitz teaches at Bar Ilan University and is co-editor of Jewish Quarterly Review.

This is his fourth contribution to the Seforim blog. We hope that you enjoy.

“”Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids…’:

Reading Esther before Bed”

Elliott Horowitz

“The problem of selecting Bible stories for the early grades is an especially difficult one,” wrote Emanuel Gamoran in his introduction to the first volume of Lenore Cohen’s Bible Tales for Very Young Children (2 vols, 1934-36), of which he was the editor. “Not all stories of the Bible are suited to the needs of little children,” continued Gamoran, who was an American Reform rabbi, and a disciple of the pioneer Jewish educator Samson Benderly,[1] “nor should all those children be told them in their entirety. In some instances certain details should be omitted.” In comes as little surprise, then, that in the second volume of Cohen’s Bible Tales the book of Esther contains only a single casualty – the evil Haman, who by the king’s order is hanged on the gallows he had prepared for Mordecai. No mention is made of the death by hanging of Haman’s ten sons, or of the more than 75,000 non-Jews killed, with the king’s permission, by Mordecai’s coreligionists. This was clearly one of those instances in which, according to Rabbi Gamoran, “certain details should be omitted.”

The identical omissions had been made three years earlier in a biblical anthology for children (The Children’s Bible: Selections from the Old and New Testaments) whose contents were “translated and arranged” by two distinguished non-Jews: Henry Sherman, who headed the “department of religious literature” at Charles Scribner’s Sons, which published the book, and Charles Foster Kent, who, as indicated on the frontispiece, was “Woolsey Professor of Biblical Literature in Yale University.”[2] The same editorial policy had earlier been followed by the American children’s writer Frances Jenkins Olcott (1873-1967) in her delightful Bible Stories to Read and Tell, published by Blue Ribbon Books in 1916.

Cohen and Gamoran, then, followed a venerable tradition in saving their “very young” readers from any knowledge of the sad fate of Haman’s sons. Yet they could arguably have followed the model of their British coreligionist Mrs. Philip Cohen in her two-volume Bible Readings with My Children (2nd ed., 1899). In her retelling of the book of Esther she acknowledged that not only Haman, but also his “ten sons were hanged on the gallows which their father had set up for Mordecai.”[3] Moreover, unlike Frances Olcott, who omitted mention of the permission given the Jews by Ahasuerus to defend themselves, and Messrs. Sherman and Kent, who included “the king’s “command that the Jews who were in every city should gather together and protect their lives,” but said nothing about the consequences thereof, Mrs. Cohen felt that it was safe to tell children that “the Jews, in defending themselves, killed numbers of their enemies.”

Mrs. Cohen’s justly popular anthology went through several editions, the fourth of which appeared in London in 1923. In that same year the future (but now lamented) Bible scholar Nahum Sarna was born in London. Not surprisingly, it was from that anthology that he acquired his earliest knowledge of Scripture. Reminiscing decades later about how he came to devote his life “to the study and teaching of the Hebrew Bible,” Sarna, then recently retired from Brandeis University, recalled that among his “earliest and most agreeable recollections is my father reading to me every Shabbat, with unfailing regularity from a little two-volumed work entitled Bible Readings with my Children by a Mrs. Philip Cohen. I am not certain, but I believe I was about three years old when the regimen began.”[4]

Bible Readings with my Children was not the first such anthology produced for Jewish children in Victorian England. Already in 1877 Ellis Davidson had published The Bible Reader under the explicit “sanction” of Britain’s Chief Rabbi Nathan Marcus Adler.[5] It was intended, as its subtitle indicated for the Use of Jewish Schools and Families, With the Addition of Questions on the Text, and Moral Reflections on Each Chapter. Davidson’s Bible Reader contained material from the popular book of Esther, but not much from the book’s brutal ending. Thus, anticipating Sherman and Kent’s Children’s Bible of 1930 readers were informed of the permission granted the Jews by Ahasuerus “to destroy, to slay, and to annihilate any armed force…that might attack them, with their children and their women,” but learned nothing of the consequences of that permission. Davidson did find a way to include the deaths of Haman’s sons, which both the Children’s Bible and Frances Olcott’s earlier Bible Stories later chose to omit, but he did so at the cost of changing the biblical story. They “were slain in battle,” and only afterwards hanged, wrote Davidson, “to show the people how utterly the whole house of Haman was degraded, and in order that future assaults might be prevented.”[6]

During the 1890’s two graduates of Oxford, each of whom had been at Balliol College when it was headed by the legendary Benjamin Jowett (1817-93), brought out their own biblical anthologies intended – at least in part – for young readers. The first of these to appear was John William Mackail’s Biblia Innocentium: Being the Story of God’s Chosen People Before the Coming of Our Lord…upon Earth, Written Anew for Children (1892). Mackail (1859-1945), who was born on the Isle of Bute and whose father was a minister of the Scottish Free Church, had overlapped as an undergraduate at Balliol with Claude Montefiore (1858-1938), who was a great nephew of the renowned Sir Moses. It is likely that they knew each other, since neither – unlike the bulk of their classmates – was an Anglican product of a posh “public school.” Both were also among the college’s most distinguished students; achieving “firsts” in the demanding course of study known as Greats (Literae Humaniores) in which their classmate George Nathaniel Curzon (a former Etonian and future viceroy of India) received only a “second.”[7]

In 1896 Montefiore, who was presumably familiar with Mackail’s Biblia Innocentium (which had appeared in a second edition in 1893) brought his Bible for Home Reading (1896), a two-volume anthology “with comments and reflections for the use of Jewish parents and their children. ” In certain respects Montefiore’s anthology followed the limitations that both his coreligionist Davidson and his former classmate Mackail had imposed upon themselves. No mention was made, for example, of the rape of Dinah in Genesis 34 or the subsequent massacre perpetrated by her brothers in Shechem. Yet with regard to the book of Esther Montefiore took a diametrically different approach. Whereas both previous Victorian anthologies, the one Jewish and the other Christian, had informed their readers of the permission granted the Jews to defend themselves but not of the bloody consequences thereof, Montefiore decided to include all the chpaters of Esther in their entirety despite what he acknowledged as the “religious and moral deficiencies.” These, he claimed, had been “ignored or explained away” by some, but also “exaggerated and falsely labelled” by others.” The best solution, he believed was to let readers, young and old, judge for themselves.

There were other ways of dealing with the book’s “religious and moral deficiencies” when presenting its contents to young readers. In his Story of the Bible: first published in 1904, Jesse Lyman Hurlbut (1843-1930), a Methodist Episcopal clergyman, reported not only that “Haman died upon the gallows that he made for Mordecai, but also that his sons “were put to death for their father’s evildoing.” He added, however, that this had been done “according to the cruel usage of those times.”[8] In contrast to Ellis Davidson’s clumsy attempt, in 1877, to make the hanging of Haman’s sons more palatable to his younger readers, Hurlbut, a native of New York, showed that it was possible to add without detracting.

Notes:

[1] On both Gamoran and Benderly, see Penny Schine Gold, Making the Bible Modern: Children’s Bibles and Jewish Education in Twentieth-Century America (Ithaca, 2004).

[2] H. A. Sherman and and C. F. Kent, The Children’s Bible (New York, 1933), 223-25.

[3] Mrs. Philip Cohen, Bible Readings with my Children, two volumes (rev. ed. London, 1899), II, 336.

[4] Nahum Sarna, “Ruminations of a Jewish Bible Scholar,” Bible Review 4:3 (June 1988). See also the obituary by Tom Long in the Boston Globe (25 June 2005).

[5] On Davidson, see Geoffrey Cantor, “‘From nature to nature’s God’: Ellis A. Davidson—mid-Victorian educator, moralist, and consummate Designer,” Jewish History 23:4 (December 2009): 263-388.

[6] On Davidson’s work and its treatment of the book of Esther, see Elliott Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence (2nd ed., Princeton, 2008), 24.

[7] On Montefiore at Balliol and the impact on the college of Jowett, see Horowitz, Reckless Rites, 25, and the sources cited there.

[8] Hurlbut, Story of the Bible: For Young and Old (Philadelphia, 1952).

Woe Is Unto Whom?

Woe Is Unto Whom? Christian Censorship of a Sugya in Berachos 3a

(or What Was Bothering the Censor II)

By: David Zilberberg

I. A Censored Text in Berachos 3a

The Vilna Edition of Berachos 3a states as follows:

אמר רב יצחק בר שמואל משמי’ דרב ג’ משמרות הוי הלילה ועל כל משמר ומשמר יושב הקב”ה ושואג כארי ואומר אוי לבנים שבעונותיהם החרבתי את ביתי ושרפתי את היכלי והגליתים לבין אומות העולם

The identical statement is cited by R. Yose in a Braisa that follows the above-cited section. The Braisa records the story of R. Yose’s visit to a ruin in Jerusalem to pray and his subsequent conversation with Eliyahu HaNavi upon leaving the ruin. At the end of the conversation, Eliyahu haNavi asks R. Yose whether he heard a “kol” in the ruin. R. Yose responds as follows:

ואמרתי לו שמעתי בת קול שמנהמת כיונה ואומרת אוי לבנים שבעונותיהם החרבתי את ביתי ושרפתי את היכלי והגליתים לבין האומות

The meaning of the statement reported by R. Yitzchak bar Shmuel and R. Yose seems straightforward: God is expressing the magnitude of the Jewish people’s loss. And, by attributing this loss to the nation’s own sins and repeating this statement on a regular, thrice-nightly, basis, the statement serves as a constant reminder to the nation that their loss is their own fault.[1] While an element of rebuke is not explicit in the statement, it dwells right beneath the surface.

However, as noted in Dikdukei Soferim, the version of the statement appearing in the Vilna edition is incorrect. The version of the sugya that appears in all extant manuscripts (at least those available on the JNUL online repository),[2] the earliest printings of the Talmud and various Rishonim who cite it, does not include the phrase “לבנים שבעונותיהם”. Thus, in the Munich and the Firenze manuscripts and in citations to the sugya in the Menoras Hamaor (which is cited in the Dikdukei Soferim), and the Kuzari,[3] the statement reads:

אוי לי שהחרבתי את ביתי ושרפתי את היכלי והגליתים לבין אומות העולם

Early Talmud printings (e.g., Soncino, Bomberg), the Rosh, Rav Hai Gaon and Rabbenu Chananel have it slightly differently:

אוי שהחרבתי את ביתי ושרפתי את היכלי והגליתים לבין אומות העולם

The Paris manuscript follows the Munich and Firenze version (“אוי לי שהחרבתי”) in the story of R. Yose and follows the Soncino version (“אוי שהחרבתי”) in the statement of Rav. Similarly, the Tosafist R’ Moshe Taku, in Kesav Tamim, cites both versions.

Either alternative has a profoundly different meaning than the Vilna version.[4] A statement casting blame at the nation for their exile becomes a statement of divine mourning or regret. Dikdukei Soferim explains the change as follows:

ובד׳ בסיליאה (של״ט) שינהו הצענזור וממנו בדפוסים האחרונים

Thus, the original text was changed in the notorious Basel edition of the Talmud at the behest of the Christian censors, and this change was retained in subsequent versions.[5]

Why was this statement censored? What did the censors find objectionable about the original version?

II. Overview of Christian Censorship of the Talmud and the Basel Edition

To answer this question, it would be useful to briefly outline the history of censorship of the Talmud by the Church. According to William Popper’s The Censorship of Hebrew Books, from the time it was first committed to writing until the High Middle Ages, the text of the Talmud survived in manuscript form relatively undisturbed by outside scrutiny. The first significant efforts against the Talmud occurred in 13th Century France. These efforts, spearheaded by Jewish apostates, culminated in the the burning of thousands of volumes of Hebrew books in the 1230s and 1240s. Similar but less extreme efforts were taken against the Talmud in Spain as well.

The Golden Age of Hebrew printing that developed in Italy in the late 15th century was abruptly ended by a “golden age” of censorship. Within years of the invention of the printing press, Italy quickly became the center of Hebrew printing. In 1483, Gershom Soncino set up a printing press, and only a year later published Masekhes Berachos. While this volume was not the first printed Talmud, it established the classic tzuras hadaf that has become synonymous with Talmud study until today. During the first half of the 16th century, other Italian printers published volumes of the Talmud, including Daniel Bomberg, who published multiple editions of the Talmud including at least one complete set. These early printed editions encountered little interference by the Christian authorities. In fact, the Bomberg edition was printed with the permission of Pope Leo X (this is not to say that the printers did not engage in self-censorship).

Starting in the end of 15th century, the Church, concerned about the ease with which the written word could now be disseminated unimpeded throughout the Christian world, began to take measures to regulate the publishing industry. The focus of these efforts was initially on books designed for Christian readers. However, as these measures became stricter, they ultimately focused on Hebrew books. In 1550, the events of 13th Century France began to replay themselves in Italy. Accusations against the Talmud by several apostates led to a renewal of anti-Talmud sentiment and ultimately to decrees directing the burning of the Talmud and prohibitions against possessing it. The Talmud benefitted from a reprieve in 1563, when the Council of Trent modified the ban against the Talmud to allow its printing as long as it was renamed (to Gemara) and the “calumnies and insults to the Christian religion” were removed. However, this limited dispensation was not exploited for many years, most likely because the risk of printing even an expurgated Talmud was deemed too great to justify the financial investment. Finally, in 1578, a printer in Basel, Switzerland decided to print a version of the Talmud that would be acceptable to the Church and hired two well known figures with solid censorship credentials — Marco Marino, the papal inquisitor of Venice, and Pierre Chevallier of Geneva — for the task.[6] The Talmud that produced in Basel was a thoroughly butchered work that was considered an utter abomination by the Jewish community. In the words of R. Rabinowitz in Ma’amar al Hadpasas Hatalmud:

ובמגינת לב ודאבון נפש ראו היהודים את התלמוד אשר הוא חיי רוחם וכל מעיינם בו נתון למרמם ביד הצענזור אשר שם בה שמות ופרעות ולזרה היה הדפוס הוה בעיניהם

Certain words were systematically replaced, sections were removed or changed and “explanatory” notes were added. The entirety of Maseches Avodah Zara was omitted. Most shocking were the notes added to Maseches Bava Metzia. An example is the following amud:

The marginal note in the lower left hand corner is a comment on a derasha regarding the purity of a person upon entry into this world. Although difficult to read in the image posted above, Ma’amar cites the text of the note as follows:

רוצה לומר שהאדם בביאתו לעוה״ז עדיין לא חטא בעצמו ואמנם לפי אמונת הנוצרים הכל נולדים בעון אדם הראשון כדכ‘ ובחטא יחמתני אמי

There you have it – the Christian doctrine of Original Sin on a blatt Gemara.

As unconscionable as these notes are, any harm they did was short term. These changes were both clearly gratuitous and easy enough for printers to spot. Accordingly they were removed (for the most part) in later printings. The changes to the text of the Talmud itself were more pernicious because not only were they harder for printers to identify, printers of the 17th and 18th century were content with sticking with a text that passed muster rather than risking problems with the censors by reverting to the pre-Basel text.

III. Explaining the Work of the Censors

Our original questions remains: what did the censors find objectionable about our sugya?

It should be noted at the outset that it is impossible to determine definitively the reasoning of the censors. The censors left no detailed notes explaining the basis for their decisions. In addition, the censorship of the Basel Talmud, and Hebrew books more generally, was not systematic or consistent. Many have pointed out the almost comical examples of censorship revealing the utter incompetence of certain censors, who for example, indiscriminately replaced certain “buzzwords” such as “גוי” or “אדום” without regard to context. In addition, identical or near identical texts that appeared in multiple places received different treatment by the Basel censors for no apparent reason other then lack of diligence (or perhaps due to the use of two censors).[7] Thus, any attempt to divine why a particular change was made involves a bit of guesswork.

A. Anthropomorphism

Some scholars have suggested that the censors objected to the anthropomorphic nature of the original version’s portrayal of a sorrowful or regretful God, as it were.[8] However, this reason appears to be incomplete. The first Chapter of Berakhos is replete of anthropomorphic statements. God wears Tefillin, God davens and God asks for a blessing from the Kohen Gadol. All of these statements escaped the scrutiny of the censors. Anthropomorphism, it would seem, didn’t always bother them. While it might be argued that expressions of regret or sorrow by God was a form of anthropomorphism more troubling to the censor then other “garden variety” forms of anthropomorphism, I find this reasoning unsatisfactory.[9]

B. Supersessionsism

A hint at what I believe is the true reason for the change in our text is found in a book called Sefer HaZikuk. This book was printed in different versions at various times but its purpose was the same: to provide the censors with Hebrew language guidance (which, because the censors were apostates, for the most part, was the only language they could read) as to what kind of passages were considered contrary to Church doctrine.

A. M. Haberman quotes a number of the guidelines printed in one of the versions of the book.[10] Among these guidelines is:

כל מקום שאומר, שהקב”ה מצטער על אבדן של ישראל, ימחק לגמרי

The censored passage in Berachos 3a fits this guideline precisely.

Note that this book was not used by the censors of the Basel Talmud – it was written after the printing of the Basel Talmud. However, Haberman states that this book was based on the censorship standards used for the Basel Talmud. Accordingly, it provides a strong hint as to the kind of concern this passage likely raised with the Church and why it was changed.

While the Sefer Hazikuk doesn’t answer our original question, it certainly points us in the right direction. Why would an expression of divine “pain” over the Churban be objectionable? The answer would appear to be supersessionism. Supersessionism is (or at least was) a central tenet of Church doctrine. It aims to explain the status of various Divine promises to and covenants with the Jewish people contained in Tanach in light of the New Testament. The basic idea is that these promises were superseded by a new covenant with the followers of the Christian faith because the Jews failed to live up to their obligations. Thus, the destruction of the Temple and the exile and persecution of the Jewish people is a fulfillment of Church teachings.

The notion of Divine lament or pain over these events is therefore a direct affront to this brand of Christian theology – if God “replaced” the Jews due to their failures with a new people and a new covenant why would he lament or feel pain over the rejection of the Jews or the destruction of the Temple that facilitated His relationship with them? Supersessionism not only explains the “offensiveness” of the original text, but the rationale for the revised text as well.[11]

While many cases of censorship merely show the ignorance of the censor, the censorship of the passage before us should actually deepen our understanding of it. What set off alarms in the minds of Medieval Church officials should likewise signal to us that the sugya is not merely a puzzling anthropomorphic statement attributing emotions to God but, but an implicit affirmation of God’s relationship with the Jewish people.[12] In fact, this is the precisely the interpretation offered by R. Avraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook in his commentary on our sugya in Ayn Ayah:

III. A Note Regarding Recent Talmud Printings

It’s troubling enough that censored passages continued to be retained in nearly all printings of the Talmud over the several hundred years after the Basel Talmud. But what is completely unconscionable is that many of the “Mifuar” reprintings of the Talmud in recent years have retained these passages as well, including certain editions that boast of teams of editors exerting painstaking effort to fix the text. Most puzzling is the English Schottenstein edition of Berachos which not only retains the censored text and fails to note the correct original text, but includes a note providing a commentary on the censored text:

Accordingly, the statement “Woe to the children because of whose sins I destroyed My Temple…” may be meant to convey that since it is only because of our sins that the Temple was destroyed and our people were scattered among the nations, it is only because of our failure to repent them that the Temple continues to lie in ruins and we remain scattered among the nations. God, however, yearns for our repentance and if only we will cry out to Him in anguish and repent over our sins and return to Him, He will surely restore us to our land and rebuild the Holy Temple.

While the notion that we can extract important lessons from texts written by medieval Christian censors is somewhat peculiar, it is ironic that the explanation somehow manages to retain the hopeful message of the original uncensored text. Thankfully, the Hebrew Schottenstein edition, as well as the Oz v’Hadar and Steinsaltz editions, include the original texts in footnotes.

We are blessed to live in a society where we benefit from nearly absolute freedom of religion. All sorts of expression — even the most vile, hateful and offensive sorts – receive broad protection under law. Why do we continue to print and study editions of the Talmud marred by the fingerprints of the 16th Century Catholic Church?

Notes

[1] The statement is echoed a third time later in the sugya but with somewhat different wording. This post does not directly address this statement, although much of what is said here may apply to it.
[2] The JNUL repository shows three manuscripts of the sugya: Munich, Firenze and Paris.

[3] Saul Lieberman notes that this version of the text also appears in several anti-Talmud polemical texts by Christians and Karaites. Shki’in at 69-70. Lieberman demonstrates that (contra other scholars) these polemic works are valuable and trustworthy sources of Hebrew texts.

[4] More about the difference between the two alternatives below.

[5] Notably, the Firenze manuscript itself reflects the work of the censor. Here is the relevant portion of our sugya below.

As you can see, a censor sought to remove the text under review and a later scribe apparently sought to reinsert it. According to this, this manuscript was censored in Florence in 1472. See below for another example of the expurgation of the passage:

This is an image of an expurgated version of the first page of Ein Yaakov (renamed “Ein Yisrael” due to the listing of Ein Yaakov on the Index Librorum Prohibitorum) taken from the Printing the Talmud website.

[6] See Stephen G. Burnett, The Regulation of Hebrew Printing in Germany, 1555-1630: Confessional Politics and the Limits of Jewish Toleration (available here) for background regarding the printing of the Basel Talmud.

[7] Although not quite a parallel text, Chagiga 5b includes identical themes to the uncensored version of our sugya, namely, God mourning, as it were, over the persecution of the Jews and nonetheless appears in the Basel edition unscathed.

[8] Popper, Censorship at 59; Nehemia Polen, Modern Judaism, Vol. 7, No. 3 (Oct., 1987), “Divine Weeping: Rabbi Kalonymos Shapiro’s Theology of Catastrophe in the Warsaw Ghetto” at n. 18.

[9] While I am no expert on Christian censorship or Christian theology, I don’t understand why the Catholic Church would find expressions of anthropomorphism a basis for censorship. In fact, the use of the uncensored version of this passage and others like it in anti-Talmud polemical texts discussed by Lieberman would seem inconsistent with this argument. Presumably, these texts sought to ridicule and belittle the Talmud based on the anthropomorphism of the passage. Why would anthropomorphism become a reason for Christians to censor these passages a few centuries later?

[10] A. M. Habermann, The Oral Law During the Manuscript Era and the Publishing Era, available here.

[11] Credit for this insight goes to my clinical psychologist wife Penina whose prowess apparently extends to long dead church officials.

[12] Significantly, the Rosh and Rabenu Chananel, both of whom had the version of the sugya without the word “לי”, interpret the expression of woe as applying to the wicked (i.e., that due to the their misdeeds, God is compelled, as it were, to punish the Jewish nation) rather than God Himself. This less radically anthropomorphic interpretation brings the original version of the text (at least the version that the Rosh and the Rabenu Chananel had) closer in line to the Basel text. One can speculate that this line of interpretation provided a rabbinic basis for retaining the Basel text. However, this understanding cannot explain the version of the sugya in the extant manuscripts, which employ the word “לי”, thereby clearly attributing the expression of woe to God Himself.

It should be noted that Lieberman asserts that the “correct” version of the text includes“לי” based on the prevalence of this version in the manuscripts and in anti-Talmud polemical tracts. He speculates that the removal of the word “לי” is an example of Jewish self-censorship resulting from discomfort with the radical anthropomorphism of the original text. Shki’in at 70.