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Young Rabbis and All About Olives

Young Rabbis and All About Olives

Marc B. Shapiro
I am currently working on a book focused on the thought of R. Kook, in particular his newly released publications. A book recently appeared titled Siah ha-Re’iyah, by R. David Gavrieli and R. Menahem Weitzman. It discusses a number of important letters of R. Kook. In addition to the analysis of the letters, each of the letters is printed with explanatory words that make them easier to understand. We are also given biographical details about the recipients of R. Kook’s letters. Here is the title page.
In reading the book, I once again found myself asking the question, how can intelligent people sometimes say nonsensical things? On p. 252 the book states that R. Menahem Mendel Cohen studied in yeshivot in Tiberias and Safed, and was appointed as chief rabbi of the Ashkenazic community of Cairo in 1896 when he was only ten years old!

How is it possible for anyone to write such a sentence, that a ten-year-old was appointed as a communal rabbi? Let me explain what happened here, but first, I must note that the name of the man we are referring to is not R. Menahem Mendel Cohen, but R. Aaron Mendel Cohen. Here is his picture, which comes from a very nice Hebrew Wikipedia article on him.

As for R. Cohen being appointed rabbi at age ten, whoever prepared the biographical introduction must have had a source which mistakenly stated that R. Cohen was born in 1886. Since this source also said that he became rabbi in Cairo in 1896, this means that he was ten years old was he was appointed rabbi. Yet we can only wonder how the authors did not see the obvious impossibility of a ten-year-old being appointed rabbi of Cairo, which should have led them to investigate a little further. Simply by googling R. Cohen’s name in Hebrew, the Wikipedia article will come up, and it tells us that R. Cohen was born not in 1886 but in 1866. Thus, instead of a ten-year-old rabbi he is now thirty years old.

With regard to young rabbis, let me repeat, with some slight edits, something I wrote in an earlier post here.

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 Sefer Nir, 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![1]

Regarding R. Jacob Schorr [mentioned earlier in the original post] 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 R. 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 R. Schorr had also written to R. Kluger. Are there any other examples of a five-year-old writing Torah letters to one of the gedolei ha-dor? From the letter we also see that the seven-year-old Schorr was also the rav of the town of Mariampol! (The Mariampol in Galicia, not Lithuania.) I would have thought that this merited some mention by the person publishing this letter. After all, R. 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. Unfortunately, the man who published this document and the editor of the journal are entirely oblivious to what, on the face of things, must be one of the most fascinating letters in all of Jewish history.

Yet all that I have written assumes that the letter was actually written by R. 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, Galicia was another man entirely, who was also named Jacob Schorr.

This is what I wrote in the prior post. Let me now add some additional information about R. Shafit, the fifteen-year-old communal rav. The first thing I want to point out relates to the city in which R. Shafit became rav at age fifteen. If you look at the title page you can see that its name is מיצד. This is actually an alternate way of spelling the city which is better known as מייצ’ט. Anyone who knows their Lithuanian rabbinic history will recognize this city as Meitchet (Molchad in English), made famous by the great R. Solomon Polachek, known as the Meitcheter Iluy. (R. Polachek was not actually born in Meitchet, but in a small town nearby.) There is so much to say about R. Polachek, but it will have to wait for a future post.

Returning to R. Shafit, although he is hardly a household name, in his day he was actually quite a well-known rabbi. He contributed to R. Israel Salanter’s journal Tevunah,[2] and those who study the Jerusalem Talmud know that his commentary is a very important work.[3] R. Adin Steinsaltz, who is from R. Shafit’s family, even took time away from his own work on the Talmud to publish from manuscript a commentary of R. Shafit on the Jerusalem Talmud. Here is the volume that appeared in 1979.

 

In the preface, R. Steinsaltz writes:

כל החכמים הלומדים בירושלמי בכל השיטות, למן חכמי בית המדרש נוסח ליטא העתיקה עד לאנשי המדע המובהקים, כולם כאחד הודו שפירוש “הניר” הוא מחשובי הפירושים שנכתבו אי פעם על התלמוד הירושלמי
I do not need go into more detail on R. Shafit since in 2014 Hillel Rotenberg published an entire book on him.[4] And while it is true that, as mentioned already, R. Shafit is not a household name, there are today people who celebrate his hillula. See here. In case you are wondering what a Lithuanian rabbi is doing with a hillula, R. Shafit was actually a Slonimer Hasid.

In response to my earlier comments about the young R. Shafit, Seforim Blog contributor R. Ovadiah Hoffman sent me another example of a young rabbi: Avigdor Aptowitzer. Aptowitzer, who was one of the twentieth-century’s leading academic scholars of rabbinic literature, is best known as the editor of R. Eliezer ben Joel Halevi’s halakhic work Ra’avyah, concerning which he published another important volume as an introduction to the Ra’avyah, and a book called Hosafot ve-Tikunim le-Sefer Ra’avyah (Jerusalem, 1936). 

According to Abraham Meir Habermann, when Aptowitzer was around seven years old his father, the rabbi of Tarnopol, became ill. Young Avigdor took the place of his father as rabbi. During the week he taught students and on Shabbat people carried him to the synagogue so that he could deliver the derashah.[5] As far as I know, this makes Aptowitzer the youngest person ever to serve as a communal rabbi, even though he was never officially appointed to the position.

It is also reported that R. Shimon Sofer, the son of R. Abraham Samuel Sofer (the Ketav Sofer), was so learned as a child that he received the title חבר from R. Judah Aszod when he was only nine years old.[6]

In speaking about young rabbis, it is also important to mention a passage in R. David Abudarham’s[7] commentary on the Haggadah, s.v. אמר רבי אלעזר הרי אני כבן שבעים שנה. Abudarham cites the Jerusalem Talmud, Berakhot 4:1, that R. Elazar ben Azariah was appointed nasi of the Sanhedrin at age 13. Our version of the Jerusalem Talmud has “age 16”, but the version cited by Abudarham appears in other early sources.[8]

Regarding age 16, R. Solomon Ibn Gabirol wrote his azharot for Shavuot when he was that old. At the beginning of the azharot he wrote (with great self-confidence, I might add):[9]

והנני בשש עשרה שנותי ובי שכל כמו בן השמונים
Avodah Zarah 56b tells about a child who learned Tractate Avodah Zarah when he was six years old. The Talmud describes how he was asked halakhic questions on the tractate, and his replies apparently signify that he was deciding halakhic matters at the age of six.

He was asked, ‘May [an Israelite] tread grapes together with a heathen in a press?’ He replied, ‘It is lawful to tread grapes together with a heathen in a press.’ [To the objection] ‘But he renders it yein nesekh [10] by [the touch of] his hands!’ [he answered], ‘We tie his hands up.’ [To the further objection] ‘But he renders it yein nesekh by [the touch of] his feet!’ [he answered], ‘Wine touched by the feet is not called nesekh.’  

Although not an example of a child rabbi, I think it is worthwhile to mention R. Jacob Berab’s statement that when he was only eighteen years old, and did not yet have a beard, he was the rabbi and halakhic authority for a community of 5000 families in Fez.[11]

Returning to Aptowitzer, R. Meir Mazuz directs a comment at him in a recent issue of his weekly Bayit Ne’eman.[12] In discussing the proper size of a kezayit, R. Mazuz notes that the Ashkenazic rishonim did not have any personal knowledge of olives, and thus did not know how big they were.[13] He cites R. Eliezer ben Joel Halevi, the Ra’avyah, who writes as follows:[14]

וכל היכא שצריך כזית צריך שיהיה מאכל בהרווחה, לפי שאין אנו בקיאין בשיעור זית כדי, שלא תהיה ברכה לבטלה
You cannot get any clearer than this that R. Eliezer, who lived throughout Germany, had no idea how big an olive was.[15] Yet in Aptowitzer’s note to the words לפי שאין אנו בקיאין בשיעור זית, he writes:

כלו’ אלא ע”י מדידה וחשבון, וכאן שבברכה אחרונה אנו עסוקין וכבר אכל ואי אפשר לחשוב ולמדוד, לכן יזהר שיאכל מתחילה שיעור גדול שאין להסתפק בו שהוא כזית
He explains the Ra’avyah to be saying that we do not know how large our portion of food is without measuring it. Since we are dealing with the final blessing and the food is already eaten and thus can no longer be measured, people should eat enough so that there is no doubt that they ate an olive’s worth and thus no problem with a berakhah le-vatalah.

It is hard to understand how Aptowitzer could have written something so obviously incorrect, as there is no doubt as to the passage’s meaning. R. Mazuz writes:

איזה “חכם”, שנכון שאחרי שכבר אכל את הזית לא יכול למדוד, אבל לפני שאכל הוא רואה את הגודל אז למה צריך לאכול בהרווחה?! אלא לא היו מכירים את הזיתים
Here is something else relevant to Aptowitzer. Nahmanides, Commentary to Genesis 31:35, writes (Chavel translation):

The correct interpretation appears to me to be that in ancient days menstruants kept very isolated for they were ever referred to as niddoth on account of their isolation since they did not approach people and did not speak to them. For the ancients in their wisdom knew that their breath is harmful, their gaze is detrimental and makes a bad impression, as the philosophers have explained. I will yet mention their experiences in this matter. And the menstruants dwelled isolated in tents where no one entered, just as our Rabbis have mentioned in the Beraitha of Tractate Niddah: “A learned man is forbidden to greet a menstruant. Rabbi Nechemyah says, ‘even the utterance of her mouth is unclean.’ Said Rabbi Yochanan: ‘One is forbidden to walk after a menstruant and tread upon her footsteps, which are as unclean as a corpse; so is the dust upon which the menstruant stepped unclean, and it is forbidden to derive any benefit from her work.’”

Baraita de-Masekhet Niddah is a strange work, with all sorts of extreme statements not found in mainstream rabbinic literature. This is not the place to review in any detail the various scholarly views about the text’s origin.[16] Suffice it to say that Saul Lieberman thought that the author was a sectarian, but not a Karaite.[17] Aptowitzer, however, took issue with Lieberman and argued that Baraita de-Masekhet Niddah is a Karaite forgery designed to insert Karaite views into the Rabbanite community, and also to make the Sages look like fools. As an example of the latter, Aptowitzer quoted the “halakhah” recorded in Baraita de-Masekhet Niddah that a kohen whose family member – by which it means one he lives with – is a niddah cannot offer a sacrifice or perform birkat kohanim.[18] Aptowitzer concluded that it is “very unfortunate” that some rishonim were misled by this forgery, thinking it an authentic work.[19]

Aptowitzer’s work, Mehkarim be-Sifrut ha-Geonim, in which he expressed this judgment, was published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook. R. Hayyim Dov Chavel also published his commentary on Nahmanides with Mossad ha-Rav Kook, and on the just-mentioned passage of Nahmanides to Genesis 31:35, R. Chavel quotes Aptowitzer’s view.

It is easy to see why, from a traditional perspective, what Aptowitzer said is problematic. After all, he posits that Nahmanides, one of the greatest of the medieval sages, was taken in by a heretic’s forgery. His apology, as it were, that Nahmanides and other medieval sages were not critical scholars, and thus it is not a cause for wonder that they were fooled in this matter, is not the sort of thing that will be seen as respectful in traditional circles. It is one thing to write about more recent sages being fooled by Besamim Rosh and the Yerushalmi on Kodashim, but when dealing with a figure like Nahmanides such a position is bound to be more controversial.

This is exactly what happened, and R. Chavel must have been subjected to criticism for citing Aptowitzer in this matter. In the second edition of his commentary, vol. 1, p. 554, R. Chavel backtracks from what he wrote. Had he been able to reset the type and delete the entire note from the text of the commentary I am sure he would have done so. However, he had to settle for a comment in the hashmatot u-miluim, which most people never bother to look at. He writes as follows:

על דעת בקורתית זו יש להוסיף: אף כי חכם גדול היה ר’ אביגדור אפטוביצר, ונאמן רוח לתורה ולחכמה, נתפס כאן לסברה בעלמא, שלא שזפה עינו החדה כי הברייתא הזאת (ברייתא דמסכת נידה) היא עדות מוכחת עד כמה גידרו קדמונינו עצמם להתרחק מטומאת הנדה. כטומאת הנדה היתה דרכם לפני (יחזקאל לו, יח). ואף שלא היו הדורות נוהגים למעשה בכל החומרות הנזכרות בברייתא זו, הלא כבר כתב ה”חתם סופר” [או”ח  סי’ כג] שאולי נשתנו הטבעים והמקומות, או כיון שדשו בה רבים שומר פתאים ה
As readers can see, R. Chavel’s point is completely dogmatic without any scholarly argument. 

Returning to Nahmanides’ comment to Genesis 31:35, he tells us that he will have more to say on this matter. This is found in his commentary to Leviticus 18:19, where he writes that the blood of menstruation “is deadly poisonous, capable of causing the death of any creature that drinks or eats it.” He further states:

If a menstruant woman at the beginning of her issue were to concentrate her gaze for some time upon a polished iron mirror, there would appear in the mirror red spots resembling drops of blood, for the bad part therein [i.e., in the issue] that is by its nature harmful, causes a certain odium, and the unhealthy condition of the air attaches to the mirror, just as a viper kills with its gaze.

I find it noteworthy that such a great figure as Nahmanides, who was also a doctor, was able to be taken in by these fairy tales. He certainly had never seen any red spots showing up on a mirror so why did he believe such a story without attempting to confirm its accuracy himself? I realize that in medieval times people were much more credulous, and repeated all sorts of far-fetched things that they heard.[20] Nahmanides himself repeats that people in Germany would make use of demons, and he had no reason to doubt this report.[21]

שמעתי בבירור שמנהג אלמניי”ו לעסוק בדברי השדים ומשביעים אותם, ומשלחים אותם ומשתמשים בהם בכמה ענינים
He also believed a report that travelers to the east had discovered the Garden of Eden, but were then killed by the flaming sword that guards the Garden.[22]

 ובספרי הרפואות היונים הקדמונים, וכן בספר אסף היהודי סיפרו כי אספלקינוס חכם מקדוני וארבעים איש מן החרטומים מלומדי הספרים הלכו הלוך בארץ ועברו מעבר להודו קדמת עדן למצוא קצת עלי הרפואות ועץ החיים למען תגדל תפארתם על כל חכמי הארץ, ובבואם אל המקום ההוא ויברק עליהם להט החרב המתהפכת, ויתלהטו כלם בשביבי הברק, ולא נמלט מהם איש
However, when dealing with red spots on a mirror this was something that Nahmanides could have easily confirmed, and yet instead he relied on what he heard, or perhaps read. In seeking to understand how Nahmanides could have been misled in this matter, it helps to be reminded of Bertrand Russell’s famous comment made with reference to Aristotle’s assertion that men have more teeth than women.

To modern educated people, it seems obvious that matters of fact are to be ascertained by observation, not by consulting ancient authorities. But this is an entirely modern conception, which hardly existed before the seventeenth century. Aristotle maintained that women have fewer teeth than men; although he was twice married, it never occurred to him to verify this statement by examining his wives’ mouths.[23]

Returning to the matter of olives, it is noteworthy that the halakhic authorities, including those in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, who argued that olives have shrunk since the days of the Sages did not actually seek to prove this with historical evidence. Had they done so they would have found that the size of olives has not changed. However, concerning another measurement we find that the Steipler was indeed interested in what the historical record revealed. R. Avrohom Marmorstein and Jacob Djmal both called my attention to a letter of the Steipler that was recently up for auction. Here is the item from Kedem’s January 2018 auction catalog (catalog no. 59), pp. 269-270 (item no. 298).

This letter already appeared in Aleh Yonah (Jerusalem-Bnei Brak, 1989), p. 134.

We see that in trying to determine the size of a cubit, the Steipler actually wrote to the archaeology department at “the university” (i.e., Hebrew University). This sort of effort is exactly what is required when trying to investigate a matter such as this. Yet look what happened when this letter was published in the Steipler’s Karyana de-Igarta, vol. 2, no. 402. The section showing that the Steipler reached out to the academic world was simply deleted, with no indication given that anything has been removed from the letter.

Finally, it is worth mentioning the Hazon Ish’s position that although the various measurements go back to Sinai, the actual size of the measurements required in order to fulfill an obligation was established by the Sages. In other words, while the measurement of a kezayit is mi-deoraita, how big this olive is – as there are different size olives – was given to the Sages to be determined.[24]

וכשנאמרו שיעורין בסיני נאמרו על האומד ומה שנראה לו לאדם זהו שיעורו, ואמנם הדבר מסור לחכמים לקבוע גדרי השיעור לכל ישראל וכמו שאמרו חכמים כזית שנאמרו זה אגורי כשעורה זו מדברית כעדשה זו מצרית לא שנאמרה למשה כך אלא נאמרה סתם והיא הבינונית אלא חכמים עיינו בדבר וקבעו לכל ישראל שכזית אגורי ושעורה מדברית ועדשה מצרית הם הבינונים, וכשם שמסור לדעתו של רואה להכריע על הבינוני של הפרי בין חביריו הגדולים והקטנים כן מסור לחכמים לקבוע את המדידה שיש להגיד עליה שפירותיה הם הבינונים בהגלילים והארצות השונות
Regarding the kezayit measurement, there is one other point worth mentioning. Everyone knows that one is required to eat a kezayit of maror at the Seder. Nevertheless, the practice of the Ropshitz hasidim used to be precisely the opposite, as they were careful not to eat a kezayit of maror. This strange practice goes back to the founder of the Ropshitz dynasty, R. Naphtali Zvi Horowitz (1760-1827). (I don’t know if the practice continues today.) Not only is the lack of a kezayit problematic, but there is the other issue regarding whether one can even say a blessing on the maror with less than a kezayit

R. Aryeh Zvi Frommer deals with Ropshitz practice, and also mentions that he heard that R. Shalom of Belz and R. Ezekiel of Shinova also told people to eat less than a kezayit of maror and to make the blessing on it.[25] R. Frommer attempts to justify this practice halakhically, and he states explicitly that he is doing so in order that the actions of these hasidic masters not be in contradiction to the Mishnah, Pesahim 2:6, the meaning of which appears to be that a kezayit is the minimum amount required for maror.[26] He also notes that he wants to justify the practice of “most of Israel” who use horseradish for maror and also do not eat a kezayit. His justification is only of eating less than a kezayit of horseradish, so it does not seem that this will be of any help with regard to the view of the Ropshitzer, as his avoidance of a kezayit of maror apparently applied to all types of maror, even lettuce. 

Many people probably remember their grandparents telling them that in Europe they used horseradish for maror, but that unlike today there was no concept of being careful to eat a kezayit. If you had any doubts about what your grandparents reported, R. Frommer tells us the exact same thing. Are we to say that most Jews in Europe did not fulfill the mitzvah of maror? This is a conclusion that no rabbi wants to reach, and that is why R. Frommer is motivated to find some justification for the practice.

כנלע”ד ליישב דברי הצדיקים ז”ל שלא יסתרו למשנה מפורשת הנ”ל וליישב מנהג רוב ישראל שאוכלין למרור חריין פחות מכזית ומברכין עליו על אכילת מרור
R. Frommer was obviously concerned that what he wrote would be regarded as too radical. Thus, on the very last page of the book, where one finds the corrections, he stressed that his words were only a limud zekhut because most people do not eat a kezayit, but le-khathilah one cannot rule this way.

כ”ז כתבתי רק דרך למוד זכות מחמת שרוב ההמון ונשים נוהגין כן אבל לכתחלה אין להורות כן וכ”מ באבני נזר סי’ שפ”ג

R. Frommer has another relevant comment on this matter:[27]

ביום ג’ שמות חלם לי, שהגידו לי בשם הרה”צ ר’ פינשע ז”ל מפילץ דאף מי שמגיע לו יסורים ר”ל, סגי ביסורים כ”ש [כל שהוא], דלא עדיף ממרור דלא בעי כזית, ומה”ת סגי במשהו כמ”ש הרא”ש פ”י דפסחים סי’ כ”ה, כמו בזה סגי במשהו
There is no need for me to go into this matter in any detail, as it has been comprehensively analyzed in a wonderful article by Levi Cooper.[28] I would just like to call attention to some sources not mentioned by Cooper. 

1. R. Mordechai Shabetai Eisenberger, Berurei Halakhot (Netanya, 2006), no. 51, offers a halakhic justification for the Ropshitzer, and claims that it is only applicable to horseradish.

2. The following story, quoting R. Aaron Rokeach, the Belzer Rebbe, appears in Aharon Pollak, ed., Beito Na’avah Kodesh (2007), vol. 2, p. 482:

פ”א, בליל הסדר שנת תש”ט, נכח דודי הר”ר יוסף צבי וועבער ז”ל (לאחר שניצל מגיא ההריגה במלחמה  באירופה, וזכה לעלות ארצה אחר החורבן שם), והנה כ”ק מרן זי”ע נתן לו בידו מעט מאוד מה”מרור”. אחד מן הנוכחים שם, הרהיב עוז והעיר למרן זי”ע, ש”זה רק כל שהוא”. נענה מרן זי”ע והתבטא בלשונו “ער האט  שוין געהאט גענוג מרירות”! – (בשם בעל העובדא
3. The following story, that R. Joel Teitelbaum of Satmar refused to follow his father-in-law’s practice of eating less than a kezayit of maror, appears in Aharon Perlow, Otzroteihem shel Tzadikim al ha-Torah ve-ha-Moadim (2006 edition), p. 323, quoting Moshian shel Yisrael, vol. 4, p. 17:

בליל התקדש חג הפסח בעריכת הסדר היה המנהג בבית דזיקוב לברך על אכילת מרור בשיעור פחות מכזית, וכן נהגו גם בפלאנטש. אולם רבינו (כ”ק מרן אדמו”ר מסאטמאר) ז”ל נהג כפשטות לשון הפוסקים וכנהוג בבית אבותיו הק’ לאכול שיעור מרור כזית כדאיפסקא הילכתא. וכשהיה רבינו ז”ל סמוך על שולחן חותנו (מזיוו”ר – הרה”ק רבי אברהם חיים הורביץ מפלאנטש זצוק”ל) לא נתנו לו שיעור מרור כראוי. ורק פחות מכזית – כמנהגם – ולא רצו שרבינו ז”ל יתנהג אחרת ממנהגם. אבל רבינו ז”ל השכיל להכין ולהצניע מראש מקדם בכיס הגלימא שלו שיעור כזית לאכילת מרור, ובעת עריכת הסדר כשהגיע לקיים מצות אכילת מרור אכל רבינו כשיעור
  
4. Matityahu Gutman, Belz (Tel Aviv, 1912), p. 31, states:

רבי יהושע מבלז אמר: אבי היה פוסק, והוא אמר שאין צריך לאכול כזית מרור, ובתשובות הנדפסות בסו”ס אמרי נועם למועדים כותב שמקובל כך מזקנו הק’ מרופשיץ וכן היו נוהגין כל בני ביתו, מחמת אי בריאות

The words I have underlined are how later generations mistakenly attempted to reconcile the practice of the Ropshitzer and his descendants with the halakhah.

Excursus

Another proof that the medieval German sages never actually saw olives is provided by R. Hayyim Benish – the expert in all matters of halakhic measurements and times – in what is still probably the best discussion of the history and halakhah of the kezayit measurement (and he did not need an entire book to make his points). See Benish, “Shiur Kezayit: Berur Da’at ha-Rishonim ve-ha-Aharonim,” Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 50 (Kislev-Tevet, 5754), pp. 107-116. 

R. Benish calls attention to a medieval Ashkenazic series of halakhic rulings published by Shlomo Spitzer in Moriah 8 (Sivan 5738). On p. 4, in discussing the size of an olive and the problem created by the medieval Ashkenazic assumption that two olives equal one egg, the unknown author writes:

ולי הכותב אינו קשה כי ראיתי זיתים בא”י ובירושלים אפילו ששה אינם גדולים כביצה
From this we see that the medieval Ashkenazic sages did not know what an olive looked like, and because of this they were mistaken in their assumption that two olives equal one egg. The author himself, who had journeyed to Eretz Yisrael and had seen actual olives, was able to correct his Ashkenazic contemporaries. Yet his statement that an olive is not even one sixth the size of an egg is not in line with the Rashba, Torat ha-BayitMishmeret ha-Bayit, Mossad ha-Rav Kook ed., vol. 2, col. 52 (bayit revi’i, sha’ar rishon), who had olives at his disposal and describes them as less than one fourth the size of an olive. (See R. Benish, p. 109, for the common view that according to Maimonides an olive is one third of an egg.) See also R. Jacob Moelin, Sefer Maharil, ed. Spitzer (Jerusalem, 1989), Likutim, no. 55, that whereas two olives equal one egg, three dried figs also equal an egg. In other words, he believed that a fig is smaller than an olive, which could only be said by someone who never saw an olive. Perhaps he never saw a fig either, but the measurement of three figs equaling one egg is held by the geonim and Maimonides. See R. Eliyahu Zini, Etz Erez, vol. 3, pp. 201-202.
There are, of course, different types of olives, and R. Benish, p. 114, has a chart with the different measurements. Regarding the anonymous medieval Ashkenazic author, who stated that an olive is not even a sixth the size of an egg, it is possible that when he returned to Germany he forgot the exact size, and recalled them as being smaller than they actually were.
The editor of Torat ha-Bayit, R. Moshe Brun, finds the Rashba’s statement that an olive is not even a quarter of an egg so significant that he remarks:

חדוש גדול חידש לנו רבינו בהלכות שיעורין, דיותר מד’ זיתים בכביצה
R. Benish concludes that the size of a kezayit is 7.5 square centimeters. Recognizing that this is a good deal smaller than what people are told today, he concludes with the following important words which explain why a kezayit by definition must be a really small size.[29] What he says would appear to be basic to all of the Sages’ measurements, but for some reason I was never taught this in yeshiva:

רבים יתמהו ודאי, האם בשיעור זעיר כל כך מקיימים מצוות אכילה הכתובה בתורה. תמיה זו יסודה בחוסר הבנה במושג שיעורי תורה בכלל, ובשיעור אכילה בפרט. בסיס השיעורים בכל מקום ומקום הוא השיעור המזערי ביותר שעליו ניתן לומר שיש לו מהות. וכמו שיעור רוחב אגודל במדות האורך – מדה מחייבת בענינים התלויים במדות אורך (כמו לאו דהשגת גבול. ראה רמב”ם הל’ גנבה פ”ז הי”א), ושיעור פרוטה, שיעור מתחייב בממון, למרות שהוא שיעור זעיר ביותר . . , ואם יקדש אשה בשיעורי ממון זה – מקודשת. וכן הוא ה”כזית” – שיעור אכילה: השיעור המיזערי ביותר שיצא מכלל פירור ויש בו חשיבות אוכל . . . ואין תנאי במצות אכילה שיהיה בו שיעור מיתבא דעתא או שביעה
See also Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 53 (Sivan-Tamuz 5754), pp. 91ff., where R. Benish responds to criticisms of his article. On p. 96 he mentions that one person criticized him by saying that the information he wrote about should not be made public!

והנה אמר לי חכם אחד: לא חידשת במאמרך מאומה, הדברים הינם ידועים, אלא שנאמרו, אפילו ע”י גדולי הפוסקים, מפה לאוזן, ואתה הוצאת זאת שלא כדין ושלא לצורך לרשות הרבים
Finally, no mention of the size of an olive would be complete without referring to R. Natan Slifkin’s essay on the topic available here.
One complicating factor in any discussion of the kezayit is that R. Joseph Karo, Shulhan ArukhOrah Hayyim 586:1, writes:

שיעור כזית יש אומרים דהוי כחצי ביצה
R. Karo knew what an olive looked like, so why in his codification of the Passover laws would he record the view that it is the size of half an egg? Furthermore, why does he ignore the views of R. Isaac Alfasi, Maimonides, and R. Asher who held that a kezayit is less than this? And finally, how come in Orah Hayyim 210 when he discusses the kezayit he does not define it as half an egg? 

These points are all raised by R. Hadar Yehudah Margolin in support of R. Benish’s position that when, in the laws of Passover, R. Karo mentions the view that a kezayit is half an egg, this is only to be regarded as a humra. However, R. Karo himself holds that the basic law is that a kezayit is really the actual size of an olive (which is certainly smaller than half an egg). See Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael 51 (Shevat-Adar 5754), p. 119.

In the recently published De-Haziteih le-Rabbi Meir (Jerusalem, 2018), vol. 1, p. 399, we see that R. Meir Soloveitchik did not like the suggestion that medieval Ashkenazic sages did not know how big an olive was.

אמר על כך הגר”מ שהרי ההגהות מיימוניות (פרק א’ ממאכלות אסורות אות מ’) מביאים שרבינו תם נתקשה בסימני עוף טהור, ואז עף אל שולחנו עוף טהור, ועל ידי זה ידע את הסימנים. ומזה רואים כמה סייעתא דשמיא היה להם שלא יטעו לומר דבר שאינו נכון, וא”כ איך אפשר לומר שכיון שלא ראו זיתים לכן לא ידעו מה שיעור כזית
* * * *

My Torah in Motion 2019 summer trips will be to Morocco, Central Europe, and Greece. Information about them will soon be up on the Torah in Motion website.

Notes

[1] A. Horowitz, Orhot Rabbenu (Bnei Brak, 1991), vol. 1, p. 364. Horowitz adds that he asked the Steipler how they could appoint a fifteen-year-old rabbi when it says in Shulhan Arukh, Hoshen Mishpat that a dayan has to be eighteen-years-old. The Steipler replied that a rabbi is not a dayan, as he only decides halakhic questions and is not on a beit din. Horowitz also asked the Steipler about what appears in the Beit Yosef, that semikhah should not be given to anyone under eighteen. The Steipler replied that this is only a general rule, but there are exceptions.

Regarding eighteen as the minimum age of a dayan, contrary to what Horowitz states, this is actually not recorded as halakhah in the Shulhan Arukh. R. Karo writes as follows inHoshen Mishpat 7:3:

יש אומרים שאינו ראוי לדון אלא מבן י”ח ומעלה והביא שתי שערות. וי”א דמבן י”ג ומעלה כשר ואפילו לא הביא שתי שערות
This is actually a case of יש אומרים ויש אומרים, and according to R. Yitzhak Yosef the general rule in such a case is that the second opinion is the one we accept. See Ein Yitzhak, vol. 3, pp. 438ff. (Kelalim be-Da’at ha-Shulhan Arukh, no. 28).

Sefer Meirat Einayim explains the position that allows a thirteen-year-old dayan as due to the fact that being a dayan is only dependent on חריפותו ובקיאותו .
R. Kook refused to give semikhah to a young man as he believed that semikhah should only be given to one who was knowledgeable in the entire Torah (!). See his responsum published in Peri ha-Aretz 5 (1982), pp. 6-9.
[2] Tevunah (1861), nos. 39, 40.
[3] Sections of this commentary that have not yet appeared in print were recently offered for sale at an auction. See here.
[4] Ha-Gaon ha-Hasid Rabbi Meir Marim Shafit. See also the very nice story about R. Shafit recorded here.
[5] Habermann, Anshei Sefer ve-Anshei Ma’aseh (Jerusalem, 1974), p. 139.
[6] R. Asher Anshel Yehudah Miller, Olamo shel Abba (Jerusalem, 1984), p. 181.
[7] The common pronunciation of his name as “Abudraham” is a mistake. See here.
[8] See R. Menahem Kasher, Haggadah Shelemah, p. 17 n. 141.
[9] Israel Davidson, Otzar ha-Shirah ve-ha-Piyut (New York, 1924), vol. 1, p. 303. As Davidson notes, this is the correct version of the text.
[10] This is how the words are pronounced, not yayin nesekh.
[11] See R. Levi Ibn Habib, Teshuvot, no. 147 (Kuntres ha-Semikhah, no. 4), s.v. ומתחלה. R. Baruch Rabinovich, about whom I have written a good deal in recent posts (and more is to come) was appointed גאב”ד of Munkatch immediately upon his marriage, when he was only eighteen years old. See R. Nathan David Rabinowich, ed., Hashav Nevonim (N.Y.-Jerusalem, 2016), p. 9.

This post deals with young rabbis, not precocious children. However, regarding children wise beyond their years, I just came across the following from R. Hayyim ben Bezalel, Be’er Mayim Hayim (London, 1964), vol. 1, p. 165:

ואני בעודי נער כמו בן ז’ שנים פעם אחת בליל שבת של פרשה זו הסיבו יחד זקנים בעלי הוראה ונתנו ונשאו בזאת הקושיא והייתי מקשיב לקולם לאחר דבריהם אמרתי לחוות דעי גם אני ברשותם . . . והודי לי רבותיי והנהתי להם מאד

[11] No. 99 (18 Shevat 5778), p. 6 n. 35. Regarding R. Mazuz, I think readers will enjoy the song devoted to him that recently appeared.


Here are other songs devoted to him


Here is Lipa Schmeltzer on Sukkot 2018 singing before R. Mazuz and R. Shlomo Amar. The first song he sings is a poem that R. Mazuz wrote about Maimonides.

[13] R. Mazuz also shows that the medieval French sages never saw a date, and this explains why they describe it incorrectly. See Bayit Ne’eman, Orah Hayyim, no. 25 (pp. 135, 137-138).

[14] Berakhot no. 107.
[15] See Excursus.
[16] Interested readers can consult the numerous sources listed by R. Eliezer Brodt, Likutei Eliezer, pp. 38ff.
[17] Sheki’in (Jerusalem, 1939), p. 22.
[18] See R. Moses Sofer, She’elot u-Teshuvot Hatam Sofer, Orah Hayyim, no. 23, who discusses the matter of birkat kohanim, as it is also quoted by Rabad in his commentary to Tamid 33b from Sefer ha-Mikzto’ot. R. Efraim Zalman Margulies, Beit Efrayim, Orah Hayyim no. 6, explains the Ashkenazic practice of not reciting birkat kohanim every day as due to the concern that there might be a niddah in a kohen’s house. With reference to the notion that a kohen does not recite birkat kohanim if there is a niddah in his house, which as just noted is quoted by Rabad from Sefer ha-Miktzo’ot, R. Joseph Kafih writes (commentary to Moreh Nevukhim 3:47, n. 31):

והדעות הללו חדרו גם לשכבות מסוימות של היהדות והחלו להתנהג במנהגותיהם, ראה לדוגמא פירוש הראב”ד למסכת תמיד הפרק האחרון בשם ספר המקצעות
In other words, R. Kafih is in agreement with Aptowitzer that this is an example of sectarian ideas finding their way into the writings of rishonim

The late Yaakov Elman even saw Zoroastrian influence in a practice that would become part of the Niddah laws. He wrote the following here:

As to the non-elitist Babylonian Jews, we have a report regarding the ordinary Babylonian Jewish women. Rabbi Zera reports that the “daughters of Israel had undertaken to be so strict with themselves as to wait for seven [clean] days [after the appearance] of a drop of blood the size of a mustard seed [although biblically they are required only to separate for seven days from the onset of menstruation]” (Berakhot, fol. 31a; Megillah, fol. 28b; Niddah, fol. 66a). It is clear from Niddah (fol. 66a) that this stringency was a popular practice and not a rabbinic prohibition, probably in response to a “holier than thou” attitude perceived by the populace as emanating from their Persian neighbors. It seems that Babylonian Jewish women had internalized their Zoroastrian neighbors’ critique of Rabbinic Judaism’s relatively “easy-going” ways in this regard.
[19] Mehkarim be-Sifrut ha-Geonim (Jerusalem, 1941), pp. 166-168.
[20] Of course, in modern times people can also be quite credulous. Since we are discussing menstruation, here is another myth repeated by R. Hayyim David Halevi, Mekor Hayyim, vol. 5, p. 70:

וכבר הוכח שאחיזת יד האשה הנדה בפרחים ממהרת נבילתם
[21] Kitvei Ramban, ed. Chavel, vol. 1, p. 381. See also ibid., p. 149, that he believed it is possible for necromancers to raise the spirits of the dead.
[22] Kitvei Ramban, vol. 2, p. 296. Nahmanides wrote this in the thirteenth century when all sorts of tall tales were believed. Yet I still recall how surprised I was when told by a high school rebbe in the 1980s that he believed that the Ten Tribes were hidden somewhere on earth, waiting to be discovered. Perhaps relevant to this, R. Aharon Leib Steinman writes that the reason we cannot find the Sambatyon river is because of hester panim. See Ayelet ha-Shahar, Devarim, p. 190.
In general, it never ceases to amaze me how even very great figures have been taken in by phony stories. For one example (and I could provide a very long list of similar examples), here is a story about the power of the evil eye that R. Joseph Zechariah Stern records inZekher Yehosef, vol. 4, Tahalukhot ha-Agaddot, p. 13a. It actually upset me when I saw this, as I am a big admirer of R. Stern and was disappointed that he, too, readily accepted a phony story as fact.

ובענין עין הרע שנמצא באגדות הנה גם אנשים שאין להם חלק בתלמוד מחכמיהם ענו אמן על התאמתם וכנודע ע”פ מ”ע [מכתבי עת] כי הרופאים בע”מ פ”ב [בעיר מלוכה פטרבורג] עשו נסיון מבחינה שעשו שהניחו ככר לחם לפני אחד מחייבי מיתות ושהרעיבו אותו שלש ימים מקודם, ואותו חלק מהלחם שהניחו לפניו מבלי ליתן אותו לנגוע בו רק במבטי עיניו נהפך אח”כ לסם המות
This source, and the one from R. Steinman mentioned earlier in this note, are referred to in the recently published Otzar Hemdah (n.p., 2018), pp. 81, 150. See also ibid., p. 219, which cites R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim, Over Orah (Jerusalem, 2003), p. 237:

כבר נודע שבעת פריחת הגפנים אז גם היין שכבר הוא מכמה שנים במרתפים תוסס, (וכן אנו רואים בעת פריחת התבואות אז העיסה תוססת), ודבר זה נעלם מחכמי הטבע, אבל הכל רואים דבר זה בחוש, וא”כ ודאי שגם מה שכשאומרים דבר שמועה בשמו גורם ששפתותיו דובבות בקבר אין להתפלא כלל, אף שאין אנו מבינים דבר
How is it that R. Rabinowitz-Teomim can write that everyone sees the phenomenon with grapes and wheat he describes when the entire description is completely without basis? Otzar Hemdah, p. 219, cites a similar passage from R. Hayyim Joseph David Azulai,Homat Anakh (Jerusalem, 1986), parashat Matot (p. 67a):

הלא תראה היין שהוא במרתף ומונח בחבית סתומה בעת שדורכים הענבים אף שהוא רחוק מאד היין שבחבית מתנועע והוא פלא
Again, we have to ask, how is it that so many people believed that they saw something which never occurred?
[23] The Impact of Science on Society (London and New York, 2016), p. 6.
[24] Hazon Ish, Hilkhot Shabbat 39:1 (Kuntres ha-Shiurim).
[25] Eretz Tzvi, vol. 1, no. 85.
[26] I say the meaning “appears to be,” as there is a famous comment of R. Asher ben Jehiel, Pesahim, ch. 10, no. 25, which some understand to be suggesting a different approach to maror and the obligation of kezayit. See R. Aryeh Leib Gunzberg, Sha’agat Aryeh, no. 100; R. Mordechai Shabbetai Eisenberger, Berurei Halakhot (Netanya, 2006), no. 51; R. Samuel Pardes, Avnei Shmuel (Jerusalem, 1993), no. 13; R. Asher Weiss, Minhat Asher: Haggadah shel Pesah (Jerusalem, 2004), pp. 203ff.
[27]  Eretz Tzvi, vol. 2, p. 401.
[28] “Bitter Herbs in Hasidic Galicia,” Jewish Studies Internet Journal 12 (2013), pp. 1-40.
[29] See also R. Naphtali Zvi Judah Berlin, Meromei Sadeh, Pesahim 39a, who states that a kezayit is very small:
וזה ברור דשיעור כזית המבואר בשו”ע הוא שיעור קטן מאד



The Ze’enah –Re’enah and its Author

The
Ze’enah –Re’enah
and its Author
Morris
M. Faierstein, Ph.D.
It has traditionally assumed that Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac of Yanova was the author of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah. Every edition of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah lists him as the author on the title page. Recently, this assumption has been questioned and the suggestion made that there may have been another author of this seminal work in addition to Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac. This article will consider two aspects of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah and its author. First, the two-author theory and its evidence. Second, who was the author of a section of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah entitled “Hurban ha Bayit [Destruction of the Temple]”, which is found immediately following the commentary on Lamentations?
1. The two-author theory.
The second volume of the earliest extant edition of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah (Basel/Hanau, 1622) begins with the following statement:
“The five Megillot and the Haftarot. In addition, Hurban ha-Bayit [Destruction of the Temple] in Yiddish which was weighed and researched by the noble and pious Rabbi Jacob, the son of Rabbi Isaac, of blessed memory, from the family of Rabbino, who erected his tent and dwells in the holy community of Janova. He is the man who has already authored the five books of the Torah in Yiddish with nice midrashim and innovative interpretations.”
The same or similar statement can be found in all subsequent editions of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah. Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac was also the author of several other books, published both during his lifetime and posthumously by family members. A statement of his authorship of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah is also found in these books.[1] The first one to question the authorship of the whole Ze’enah U-Re’enah by Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac, was Simon Neuberg in his book, Pragmatische Aspekte der jiddischen Sprachgeschichte am Beispiel der Zenerene.[2] More recently, Jacob Elbaum and Chava Turniansky have reiterated
Neuberg’s argument and supported it.[3] The Elbaum/Turniansky article provides a clear summary of Neuberg’s argument. It would be helpful to begin with this summary:
In a meticulously systematic analysis of the language of the Tsene-rene Simon Neuberg has demonstrated that the vocabulary of each of the three sections (Torah, Megillot, haftarot)  differs clearly from that of the of the two, a phenomenon that becomes particularly prominent in the section khurbn in loshn ashkenaz, which, together with Ruth, differs in its linguistic features most conspicuously from that of the other four Megillot in the Tsene-rene.[4] The conclusions of the linguistic analysis seem to indicate clearly that Rabbi Jacob, the author of the first volume of the Tsene-rene (on the Torah), was not the author of the various components of the second volume of this book (Megillot and Haftarot).
The discussion of the questions about the integration of the two volumes into one opus is beyond the framework  of this article.[5] It is, however, relevant that an earlier printed Yiddish booklet on the destruction of the Temple has been inserted directly after the Yiddish translation and explanation of Lamentations. The difference between the Tsene-rene’s treatment of Lamentations and that of the other four Megillot leads to the
conclusion that whoever included the booklet in the second volume of the Tsene-rene wished to differentiate Lamentations from the other Megillot. Since the khurbn booklet consisted of midrashim, the preceding rendition of Lamentations required no more than a Yiddish translation and explanation of the text, as has been done in
the section of the Haftarot. Indeed, there is a great similarity between the manner of rendition of the haftarot and the methods used in the rendition of Lamentations.[6]
Neuberg bases his conclusions on the basis of his study of the vocabulary of the various sections of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah and the variations that he has found. This mode of philological analysis is ancient, going back to Alexandrian studies of Homer and revived in the study of the Biblical text in the Early Modern and Modern periods. The starting point of this mode of analysis is the concept that a certain text is considered to be a unitary product of one author, whether Homer or Moses, and the scholar endeavors to show that in fact there is more than one hand discernable in the production of the final product. The most famous example of this type of analysis is the “Documentary Hypothesis” relating to the Five Books of Moses. The fatal flaw in Neuberg’s analysis is that he assumes this unitary authorship, that Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac was the author in the way one thinks of someone being the author of a novel or a monograph, the intellectual product of one mind and one style. In fact, the Ze’enah U-Re’enah is a very different sort of work, one composed of passages from a wide variety of texts of different periods and styles that were collected, reworked, paraphrased and abbreviated by Rabbi Jacob to form a bricolage, an anthological commentary based on a diversity of sources.
As an integral part of my English translation of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah[7] I have endeavored to document the sources that Rabbi Jacob utilized and show how he built his commentary.[8] My conclusion is that Rabbi Jacob built his text from the whole panoply of Talmudic, Midrashic, and medieval and early modern Biblical commentaries. He even cites the Torah commentary Keli Yakar (Lublin, 1602) of Rabbi Ephraim Lunshits of Prague, which was most likely published while he was at
work on the Ze’enah U-Re’enah.
Rabbi Jacob had no specific model that he followed, but rather was guided by the commentaries that were available for a particular text. To
take the most obvious example, the number and type of commentaries
available for the Humash
is dramatically greater than what is available for the Megillot,
which is greater than what is available for the Haftarot.
As a result, the Humash
commentary is richer, has greater depth and is more extensive than
the other sections. Even within the Humash
commentaries, it is a well-known phenomenon that the quantity of
comments on Genesis and Exodus is much greater than those on
Leviticus, Numbers and Exodus. This pattern follows through from
Midrash and through all post Talmudic commentaries, from the earliest
medieval commentaries to those being written in the present. This is
also reflected in the allocation of space in the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
. For example, the number of
pages devoted to Genesis is double the number of pages devoted to
Deuteronomy. It is a reflection of the available resources and not a
deliberate decision by Rabbi Jacob to privilege one part of the Torah
over another.
The
differing level of resources is much greater when one goes from the
Torah to the Prophets and Writings. In the Jewish tradition in
contrast to the Christian tradition, the Torah (Humash)
has been the center of study and interest, while the rest of the
Bible plays a secondary role. This is particularly true in the
Ashkenazi tradition and is evidenced by the paucity of commentaries
on the Prophets and Writings. The great exception is Rashi, whose
commentary encompasses the whole Bible and much of the Talmud. Thus,
we find that Rabbi Jacob has more than a dozen commentaries that he
regularly quotes and cites, not to mention the whole of Midrashic
literature that is largely focused on the Humash
and in the case of Midrash Rabbah,
also includes the Megillot.
The Talmud is also a rich source of comments and stories that are
interspersed in the Torah commentary. In contrast, when one comes to
the Haftarot,
the only commentaries that he relies on regularly are Rashi and Rabbi
David Kimchi.[9] Rabbi Jacob tries to leaven the commentary on the Haftarot
by adding to the end of most of the Haftarot,
a group of three stories taken from the medieval anthology, Yalkut
Shimoni
. It is noteworthy that this
group of stories is quoted in the same sequence that they are found
in the Yalkut Shimoni.
Rabbi
Jacob does not have a fixed form or pattern in his commentary. Each
verse or part of a verse is approached on its own merits. He appears
to have examined the universe of comments on that passage and then he
chooses those things that appeal to him. The range can be anything
from one sentence to several paragraphs, from one commentator to a
medley of several comments that expand on each other or they might
offer conflicting perspectives. Sometimes he ends a commentary with
the phrase, “from here we can learn”, which is a sign that he is
adding his own insights. In addition to the commentaries, or
occasionally in place of a commentary, he might cite a Talmudic or
midrashic passage. Not only do his sources vary widely, but his mode
of citation also varies. Sometimes he translates the Hebrew original,
more or less precisely. Other times, he might paraphrase a text or
summarize an argument from a source. It is also worth noting that he
does not comment on every verse. This too follows the pattern of the
commentaries that he relies upon, in that they also do not feel the
need to comment on every verse. The same applies to the Megillot
and Haftarot,
with the proviso that the universe of sources is smaller and
therefore the variations in form and style will not be as dramatic.
In
summary, any literary analysis of the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
must take into account the
nature of the sources that underlie the text, how the author utilizes
the sources and the methods of composition. Without a thorough
knowledge of rabbinic literature in the broadest sense and the
ability to deal with these texts, both in the Hebrew/Aramaic original
languages and a solid ability to understand the Yiddish text of the
Ze’enah U-Re’enah, it
would be impossible to make any judgments about this work that have
merit and should be taken seriously.
Another
argument raised by Neuberg is the fact that the Basel/Hanau, 1622
edition of the Ze’enah U-Re’enah was
published in two volumes, with the Torah in one volume and Megillot
and Haftarot
in the second volume. He ascribes great significance to this fact but
does not provide any evidence to support his argument that there is
significance to this fact beyond the things that have already been
discussed. Since this was the first extant edition, we cannot learn
anything from the three preceding editions that have not survived. We
can only look at subsequent editions and see if this pattern is
repeated. The next edition of the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
was published in Amsterdam,
1648. Rabbi Jacob’s son wrote in the Introduction of his edition of
his father’s small book Sefer Shoresh
Yaakov
that he was publishing this book
to raise funds to enable the publication of a new edition of his
father’s Ze’enah U-Re’enah.[10] The Amsterdam edition retained the same
format as the 1622 edition. That is, the Torah came first, followed
by the Megillot,
and ending with the Haftarot.
The one important change was that the work was published in one
volume and in a folio format. The first edition to break this pattern
was the Amsterdam, 1711 edition, which placed the Haftarot
for the Torah portions immediately behind the respective Torah
portion, in the same way that one would find it in a printed Hebrew
Humash.
This was probably the reason for the change and nothing more
significant. All subsequent editions followed the model of the 1711
edition. In addition, all editions of the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
beginning with the
Amsterdam, 1648 were published in one volume.[11] The Basel/Hanau, 1622 edition is the only one that was published in
two volumes. It is most likely that the two volumes had simple
internal reasons related to practical aspects of the printing
process. Without additional evidence it would be inappropriate to
make assumptions about this fact.
2.
The authorship of Hurban ha-Bayit.
 
Immediately after the commentary on
Lamentations in the Ze’enah U-Re’enah
there is a separate section entitled, “Hurban
ha-Bayit
[Destruction of the Temple].” An examination of this section shows
that it is a Yiddish translation/paraphrase of a famous passage from
the Talmud about the causes of the destruction of the Second Temple,
found in tractate B. Gittin
55b-58a. After the passage from Gittin
until the end of this text there is a combination of passages taken
from Yalkut Shimoni,
Lamentations, Remez
995 and 996, and selections from Lamentations
Rabbah,
Petihtah
24.
In
1979, Sara Zfatman published an article about a pamphlet by an
anonymous author that was published in Cracow, before 1595.[12] The text of this pamphlet is identical to the “Hurban
ha-Bayit
[Destruction of the Temple]” material in the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah.
[13] Two pamphlets containing this material were reprinted in the
nineteenth and twentieth century[14] and it was even translated into German.[15] It is likely that they were extracts from the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
, and not from the Cracow
pamphlet.

The
question that concerns us is the authorship of this pamphlet and the
section in the Ze’enah U-Re’enah.
The similarity of both versions of the text is strong evidence that
one person is the author of both. The title page of the second volume
of the Basel/Hanau, 1622 begins with the following statement. “The
five Megillot
and the Haftarot.
In addition, the destruction of Jerusalem in Yiddish which was
weighed and researched by the noble and pious Rabbi Jacob, the son of
Rabbi Isaac, of blessed memory.” Having argued that there is one
author of the whole Ze’enah U-Re’enah,
Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac, it naturally follows Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac is
also the author of this pamphlet and the text in the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah.
 
It
is not hard to understand why Rabbi Jacob might have felt the need to
create a supplement for Lamentations, where there is no similar need
or the other Megillot.
Tisha B’Av
when Lamentations is read in the synagogue became the date to
commemorate and mourn a variety of destruction and catastrophes in
Jewish history. The text of Lamentations is so specific to the
situation of the First Temple that over the centuries a whole
literature developed to supplement the Book of Lamentations and
better express the emotions engendered by later events being
commemorated and mourned. I would suggest that Rabbi Jacob first
wrote this pamphlet as an additional text for Tisha
B’Av
observances and later
incorporated it into the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah.
The sparse nature of his
commentary on Lamentations points to this. There is virtually no
effort to add commentary. Aside from a few references to Rashi, the
commentary on Lamentations is no more than translations or
paraphrases of the Biblical text.
[1]
Melitz Yosher
(Lublin, 1622; Amsterdam, 1688); Sefer
ha-Magid
(Lublin,
1623-1627); Sefer
Shoresh Ya’akov
(Cracow, 1640). The relationship of Rabbi Jacob ben Isaac to Sefer
ha-Magid
is
complicated. See, R. Hayyim Lieberman, “Concerning the Sefer
ha-Magid
and its
Author [Yiddish].” In idem. Ohel
RH”L.
3 vols.
(n.p.: Brooklyn, 1984), 2: 231-248. A Hebrew version of the article
is found in idem. 3: 365-382. The article was originally published
in Yidishe Shprakh,
vol. 26 (1966): 33-38.
[2]
Neuberg,
Simon. Pragmatische
Aspekte der jiddischen Sprachgeschichte am Beispiel der Zenerene.

Buske: Hamburg, 1999, 109-115.
[3]
Elbaum,
Jacob. and Turniansky, Chava. “The Destruction of the Temple: A
Yiddish Booklet for the Ninth of Av.” In Midrash
Unbound, Transformations and Innovations
.
Ed. Michael
Fishbane and Joanna Weinberg. Oxford: Littman Library, 2013,
424-427.
[4]
See Neuberg,
Pragmatische
Aspekte
,
109-115.
[5]
At this point there is a lengthy footnote about the significance of
the title pages of the two volumes and the fact that there are two
volumes. I will address the issues raised here in my response.
[6] Elbaum
and Turniansky, “The Destruction of the Temple,” 425.
[7] Faierstein, Morris M. Ed. Ze’enah
U-Re’enah: A Critical Translation into English
.
2 Vols. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2017 (Studia Judaica, 96).
[8] The Index of Sources in my translation is a vivid example of the
wide variety of sources found in the Ze’enah
U-Re’enah
.
[9] Rabbi David Kimchi was a member of the medieval Spanish school of
Biblical commentary that emphasized grammar and logic rather than
the more midrashic and mystical approach of many of the Ashkenazi
commentaries. It is noteworthy that neither Kimchi nor the other
great Spanish commentator Rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra are mentioned in
the Torah commentary. It is only in the Prophets where Kimchi is
consulted, because the number of commentaries is limited.
[10] Sefer Shoresh
Yaakov
, Cracow,
1640, Introduction.
[11] A complete bibliography of Ze’enah
U-Re’enah

editions can be found in Morris
M. Faierstein, “The
Ze’enah U-Re’enah
:
A Preliminary Bibliography”, Revue
des etudes juives
,
172, 3-4 (2013), 397-427.
[12] On this pamphlet and its history see, Sara Zfatman, “The
Destruction of the Temple, Cracow, before 1595 – An Additional
Yiddish Text from the Sixteenth Century [Hebrew],” Kiryat
Sefer
54 (1979):
201-202.
[13] Zfatman, “The Destruction of the Temple,” 201 n. 5.
[14] The nineteenth century edition was published in Johnnisburg
(Prussia), 1862. See,
Faierstein, “The
Ze’enah U-Re’enah
:
A Preliminary Bibliography,” 411 no. 121. The twentieth century
edition was Brooklyn, 2007. See, idem. 422, no. 240.
[15] The German translation is, Die
Zerstörung Jerusalems: aus dem Buche Zeena u’reena. Deutsch von
Alexander Eliasberg

(Berlin: F. Gurlitt, 1921). See, Faierstein, “The
Ze’enah U-Re’enah
:
A Preliminary Bibliography,” 424 no. 264.



Another “Translation” by Artscroll, the Rogochover and the Radichkover

Another “Translation” by Artscroll, the Rogochover and the Radichkover
Marc B. Shapiro
1. As I discuss in Changing the Immutable, sometimes a choice of translation serves as a means of censorship. In other words, one does not need to delete a text. Simply mistranslating it will accomplish one’s goal. Jay Shapiro called my attention to an example of this in the recent ArtScroll translation of Sefer ha-Hinukh, no. 467.  
In discussing the prohibition to gash one’s body as idol-worshippers so, Sefer ha-Hinukh states:

אבל שנשחית גופנו ונקלקל עצמנו כשוטים, לא טוב לנו ולא דרך חכמים ואנשי בינה היא, רק מעשה המון הנשים הפחותות וחסרי הדעת שלא הבינו דבר במעשה הא-ל ונפלאותיו.

The Feldheim edition of Sefer ha-Hinnukh, with Charles Wengrov’s translation, reads as follows:

But that we should be be destructive to our body and injure ourselves like witless fools—this is not good for us, and is not the way of the wise and the people of understanding. It is solely the activity of the mass of low, inferior women lacking in sense, who have understood nothing of God’s handiwork and his wonders.

This is a correct translation. However, Artscroll “translates” the words המון הנשים הפחותות וחסרי הדעת as “masses of small-minded and unintelligent people.” This is clearly a politically correct translation designed to avoid dealing with Sefer ha-Hinukh’s negative comment about the female masses. I will only add that Sefer ha-Hinukh’s statement is indeed troubling. Why did he need to throw in “the women”? His point would have been the exact same leaving this out, as we can see from ArtScroll’s “translation.” Knowing what we know about the “small-minded unintelligent” men in medieval times, it is hard to see why he had to pick on women in this comment, as the masses of ignorant men would have also been a good target for his put-down.

2. In my post here I wrote:

One final point I would like to make about the Rogochover relates to his view of secular studies. . . . Among the significant points he makes is that, following Maimonides, a father must teach his son “wisdom.” He derives this from Maimonides’ ruling in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5:

הבן שהרג את אביו בשגגה, גולה. וכן האב שהרג את בנו בשגגה, גולה על ידו, במה דברים אמורים. כשהרגו שלא בשעת לימוד, או שהיה מלמדו אומנות אחרת שאינו צריך לה. אבל אם ייסר את בנו כדי ללמדו תורה או חכמה או אומנות ומת פטור

He adds, however, that instruction in “secular” subjects is not something that the community should be involved in, with the exception of medicine, astronomy, and the skills which allow one to take proper measurements, since all these matters have halakhic relevance. In other words, according to the Rogochover, while Jewish schools should teach these subjects, no other secular subjects (“wisdom”) should be taught by the schools, but the father should arrange private instruction for his son.

 רואים דהרמב”ם ס”ל דגם חכמה מותר וצריך אב ללמוד [!] לבנו אבל ציבור ודאי אסורים בשאר חכמות חוץ מן רפואה ותקפות [!] דשיך [!] לעבובר [צ”ל לעבור] וגמטרא [!] השייך למדידה דזה ג”כ בגדר דין

He then refers to the Mekhilta, parashat Bo (ch. 18), which cites R. Judah ha-Nasi as saying that a father must teach his son ישוב המדינה. The Rogochover does not explain what yishuv ha-medinah means, just as he earlier does not explain what is meant by “wisdom,” but these terms obviously include the secular studies that are necessary to function properly in society.

Dr. Dianna Roberts-Zauderer takes issue with my assumption that “wisdom” (חכמה), the word used by Maimonides, includes what I have termed “secular studies”. (The Touger translation also has “secular knowledge”). She correctly points out that when the medievals used the word חכמה it means philosophy. She adds: “Does it not make sense that Maimonides would advocate the learning of philosophy? Or that the Rogochover would forbid the learning of philosophy in yeshivot, but only permit it at home with a teacher hired by the father?”
Although the term חכמה often means philosophy, I do not think we must assume that this is its meaning in Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5. Based on parallel passages in Maimonides’ writings where the same halakhah is mentioned, R. Nachum Eliezer Rabinovitch claims that the word חכמה in this case actually means good character traits.[1] He sums up his discussion as follows:
כוונת רבינו אחת היא בכל המקומות, דהיינו לימוד מדות הנקרא חכמה
Quite apart from this, in my discussion I was dealing with how the Rogochover understood the passage in Maimonides. We have to remember the context of the Rogochover’s letter. He was asked about the study of secular subjects, as was the practice among the German Orthodox. He was not asked about the study of philosophy per se. Furthermore, in the passage cited from manuscript by R. Judah Aryeh Wohlgemuth,[2] which I referred to in the previous post, the Rogochover specifically understands Maimonides’ term חכמה in Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5 as meaning שאר החכמות, which he identifies with what R. Judah ha-Nasi calls ישוב המדינה. 
Regarding the Rogochover, there are a few things people mentioned to me after seeing my post which I think are worthwhile to record. Dr. Rivka Blau, the daughter of R. Pinchas Teitz, told me that her uncle, R. Elchanan Teitz, would on occasion cut the Rogochover’s hair.
In the post I mentioned how the Rogochover acknowledged that his learning Torah while sitting shiva was a sin, but he did so anyway as the Torah was worth it. R. Yissachar Dov Hoffman called my attention to the following comment about this by R. Ovadiah Yosef, Meor Yisrael, Berakhot 24b:
לפע”ד לא יאומן כי יסופר שת”ח יעבור על הלכה פסוקה בטענה כזו. והעיקר דס”ל כמ”ש הירושלמי פ”ג דמ”ק שאם היה להוט אחר ד”ת מותר לעסוק בתורה בימי אבלו, דהו”ל כדין אסטניס שלא גזרו בו איסור רחיצה מפני צערו.
In the post I mentioned that the Shibolei ha-Leket appears to be the only rishon who adopts the position of the Yerushalmi referred to by R. Ovadiah. R. Yissachar Dov Hoffman called my attention to R. Yehudah Azulai, Simhat Yehudah, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah no. 40, which is a comprehensive responsum on the topic of a mourner studying Torah. R. Azulai notes that a few recently published texts of rishonim record the position of the Yerushalmi. He also mentions that according to some rishonim the prohibition is only to study on the first day of mourning. In studying R. Azulai’s responsum, I found another source that could be used to defend the Rogochover’s learning Torah during shiva. R. Meir ben Shimon ha-Meili writes:[3]
ונראה לומר דלדברי כל פוסקים העיון מבלי הקריאה מותר, שאינו אלא הרהור בעלמא, ולא חמיר אבלות משבת דאמרינן דבור אסור הרהור מותר, וכל שכן הרהור בדברי תורה לאבל שהוא מותר . . . והלכך מותר לו לאבל לעיין בספר, ובלבד שלא יקרא בו בפיו.
R. Meir ben Shimon adds that despite what he wrote, the common practice is for a mourner not to read any Torah books. Yet as we can see, he believes that this is halakhically permitted as long as one does not read out loud.
R. Chaim Rapoport called my attention to the following passage in a new book about the late rav of Kefar Habad, Ha-Rav Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi (Kefar Habad, 2017), p. 546:
יצוין בהקשר זה למעשה משעשע, ששח הרב אשכנזי בשם הרה”ח ר’ אליהו חיים אלטהויז הי”ד, אודות אסיפה שכינס הרבי הריי”ץ עם הגיעו לריגה שבלטביה. הרוגצ’ובר נכח באותה ישיבה, ומשנמשכו הנאומים, התקשה הגאון לשבת במנוחה, והוא הסיר את כובעו והשליכו על הבקבוקים שניצבו על השולחן, תוך שערם כוסות שורה על שורה בפירמידה, וכן שפך מים מכוס אחת לשנייה וכדומה.
הרב ד”ר מאיר הילדסיימר [!] ע”ה מברלין, שהיה יקה מובהק, תהה לפשר התופעה והתקשה להכילה. הרבי הריי”ץ חש בפליאתו וציין באוזניו, כי הרוגצ’ובר הינו “שר התורה, וכל רז לא אניס ליה”. השיב הרב הילדסהיימר: “הכול טוב ויפה, אולם נורמאלי זה לא”.
I am surprised that such a passage, using the words “not normal” about behavior of the Rogochover, was published, especially in a Habad work. As is well known, there is a special closeness in Habad to the Rogochover, as he himself was from a Habad family (although it was not Lubavitch but from the Kopust branch of Habad).[4]
Ha-Rav Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi also has a number of other stories about the Rogochover. The following appears on p. 211: Once R. Jacob David Wilovsky of Slutzk visited R. Meir Simhah of Dvinsk and told him that he wanted to also visit the Rogochover. R. Meir Simhah attempted to dissuade him, saying that the Rogochover would put him down like he puts everyone down. Yet R. Wilovsky visited him and the Rogochover did not put him down. He said to the Rogochover, “I heard that you put down everyone, but I see that you treat me with respect.” The Rogochover replied, “I put down gedolim, not ketanim.”
In my post on the Rogochover, I showed this page from R. Menahem Kasher’s Mefaneah Tzefunot (Jerusalem, 1976), p. 2.

I wrote:
Look at the end of the first paragraph of the note on p. 2. The “problematic” quotation of the Rogochover, saying that he will happily be punished for his sin in studying Torah, as the Torah is worth it, has been deleted. Instead, the Rogochover is portrayed as explaining his behavior as due to the passage in the Yerushalmi. While all the other authors who discuss this matter and want to “defend” the Rogochover claim that his real reason for studying Torah was based on the Yerushalmi, in R. Kasher’s work this defense is not needed as now we have the Rogochover himself giving this explanation!
Yet the Rogochover never said this. R. Zevin’s text has been altered and a spurious comment put in the mouth of the Rogochover. By looking carefully at the text you can see that originally R. Zevin was quoted correctly. Notice how there is a space between the first and second paragraphs and how the false addition is a different size than the rest of the words. What appears to have happened is that the original continuation of the paragraph was whited out and the fraudulent words were substituted in its place. Yet this was done after everything was typeset so the evidence of the altering remains.
I had forgotten that the 1976 edition of Mefaneah Tzefunot, which is the one found on Otzar ha-Hokhmah and hebrewbooks.org, was the second publication of the book. I thank David Scharf for reminding me of this and for sending me copies of the following pages. Here are the Hebrew and English title pages of the first edition.

Notice how the two title pages have different publication dates. At that time, Yeshiva University was helping to fund R. Kasher’s work on the Rogochover.[5]
Here is page 2 of the preface.

As you can see, in the original publication the text from R. Zevin appears in its entirety. It is only in the second edition that R. Kasher altered what R. Zevin wrote.
There is a good deal more to say about the Rogochover, so let me add another point. In 1892 R. Dov Baer Judah Leib Ginzberg published his Emunat Hakhamim. Included in it, on pages 23b-24b, is a report of how the Rogochover understood the time of death. I believe that what he states can be used to support the argument that brain death is equal to halakhic death. Here are the pages.

The matter of antinomianism, and in particular the Rogochover violating halakhah in the name of a higher purpose, is of interest to many people. In a future post I will cite an example concerning which I think everyone (or most everyone) will agree that even though the halakhah is clear, nevertheless, even the most pious will not hesitate to violate the halakhah in this particular case, again, because of a larger concern.
For now, I want to call attention to another who, like the Rogochover, was very unusual. R. Shlomo Aviner writes as follows:[6]

בישיבת “מרכז הרב” היה גאון אחד בשם הרדיצ’קובר, שהיה מתנהג בצורה משונה. הוא היה נכנס לשירותים עם ספר הרמב”ם. אמרו לו: אסור! ותשובותו: “הרי גם הרמב”ם עצמו היה נכנס לשרותים!”כשנפטר, היו האנשים נבוכים בהספד שלו, שהרי היה תלמיד חכם, אך התנהג בצורה מוזרה מאד. הרב נתן רענן, חתנו של מרן הרב, הספיד אותו ואמר, שגדולתו היתה אהבת התורה, ומרוב אהבת התורה עשה דברים שלא יעשו. הוא חטא חטאים שנבעו מאהבת התורה.

R. Aviner speaks about a gaon known as the Radichkover who was quite strange. He would go into the restroom holding a copy of the Mishneh Torah. When he was told that this is forbidden, he replied that Maimonides himself went to the restroom! In other words, if Maimonides could go into the restroom then certainly his book can be brought into it. The Radichkover actually tells this story himself about bringing R. Reuven Katz’s book, Degel Reuven, into the restroom.[7]
When he died, people did not know how to eulogize him, because on the one hand he was a great talmid hakham, but on the other hand he acted in a very strange manner. R. Aviner tells us that R. Natan Ra’anan, the son-in-law of R. Kook, delivered the eulogy and said that his greatness was his love of Torah, and due to this great love he did things that were improper. “He sinned yet these sins arose from his love of Torah.”
It is obviously not very common that a eulogy mentions improper things done by the deceased. It is also understandable why, due to his unconventionality, the Radichkover reminds people of the Rogochover. For those who have never heard of him, his name was R. Yaakov Robinson (1889-1966), and before coming to Eretz Yisrael he studied with R. Baruch Ber Leibowitz. You can read more about him here and here. Two responsa in R. Moshe Feinstein’s Iggerot Moshe were sent to the Radichkover. Both of these responsa are from 1933, when R. Moshe was still in Russia.[8]
If you look at the Wikishiva page on the Radichkover here, it says that he died in 1977. So how do I know that this is incorrect and that he died in 1966? Because he died at the same time as R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg. Here is a page from Beit Yaakov, Shevat 5726, p. 31, and you can see the announcement of both of their funerals.

It is typical of an Agudah publication like Beit Yaakov that it would falsely state that R. Weinberg was connected for many years with Agudat Israel. This is as false as the newspaper’s statement that he served as rosh yeshiva in Montreux.
A number of sharp comments of the Radichkover became well known in the Jerusalem yeshiva world and are mentioned in the two sites I linked to above. See also here for more of his sayings. Here is one I liked, which was written by the Radichkover in one of his works (mentioned here).[9]
הבוקר אחרי התפילה ניגש אלי יהודי ושאל אותי למה אני יושב ב”ויברך דוד”. חשבתי לעצמי, זה שאני יושב בלי אשה, זה לא מפריע לו, זה שאני יושב בלי פרנסה, זה לא מפריע לו, מה כן מפריע לו, שאני יושב בויברך דוד . . .
Here is another great story dealing with the Hazon Ish (mentioned here)
ר’ יענקל היה נתון תדיר בתחושת רדיפה. מעולם לא אכל אוכל שלא הכין בעצמו ועוד שאר דברים ע”ז הדרך. פעם נזעק לביתו של החזון אי”ש בטענה כי אחדים מבני הישיבה ניסו להרעילו. מה עליו לעשות. שאלו החזון אי”ש: “מה שמו בכוס קודם – את התה או את הסם”. הרהר ר’ יענקל קלות וענה: “קודם את התה ואח”כ את הסם”. נענה החזו”א: “אנחנו הרי פוסקים שתתאה גבר”. ונח דעתיה.
In the recently published conversations of the late R. Meir Soloveitchik, Da-Haziteih le-Rabbi Meir, vol. 1, p. 159, the Hazon Ish’s wife is quoted as saying as follows about the Radichkover: 

מה”שברי לוחות”, אפשר לראות ולשער מה היו הלוחות השלמות, כאשר היה בריא

While the Radichkover never published any full-length books, he published a number of short pieces. Here is the first page of his Masa Dumah.

Here is the first page of his Olam Gadol Oleh ve-Olam Katan Shokea.

A short glance at either of these works should suffice to show that we are not dealing with a “normal” talmid hakham. In Olam Gadol, p. 10, he reports that the Rogochover said about him that he was the greatest Torah scholar alive! Here is page 15 of Olam Gadol. It hardly needs to be said that what he includes here about the locked rest rooms is not the typical material found in seforim.

In Masa Dumah, p. 8, he makes the following sharp comment about R. Joseph Kahaneman. “They asked me in the Ponovezh yeshiva, what I have to say about the Ponovezher Rav. I said to them that he is greater than the Maharal of Prague. The Maharal created one golem and he created three hundred golems. The Ponovezh Yeshiva is a factory for am ha’aratzut.”
Excursus
The people who saw the Radichkover sitting during Vayvarekh David were bothered since everyone knows that this is recited standing. The ArtScroll siddur states: “One must stand from ויברך דויד until after the phrase אתה הוא ה’ הא-להים, however there is a generally accepted custom to remain standing until after ברכו.” I don’t like this formulation. On what basis can ArtScroll state that “one must stand”? The word “must” means that we are dealing with a halakhah, i.e., an obligation. But that is not the case at all. Standing in Vayvarekh David is only a minhag, like much else we do in the prayers.[10] As such, I think it would have been proper for ArtScroll to write, “The generally accepted practice is to stand from ויברך דויד” etc.
R. Moses Isserles, Shulhan ArukhOrah Hayyim 51:7, refers to standing in Vayvarekh David, and his language is as follows:[11]
ונהגו לעמוד כשאומרים ברוך שאמר ויברך דוד וישתבח

On this passage, the Vilna Gaon writes: לחומרא בעלמא, “it is only a stringency”. R. Jehiel Michel Epstein, Arukh ha-Shulhan, Orah Hayyim 51:8, also writes that there is no halakhah to stand for Vayvarekh David.
ומצד הדין אין שום קפידא לבד בשמ”ע ומחויבים לעמוד וקדושה וקדיש וברכו.
R. Epstein returns to this matter in Arukh ha-Shulhan, Yoreh Deah 214:23. This passage is not well known as this volume of Arukh ha-Shulhan was only printed in 1991 and is not included in the standard sets of Arukh ha-Shulhan that people buy. R. Epstein writes:
מדינא דגמ’ מותר לישב בכל התפלה לבד שמונה עשרה דצריך בעמידה ושיש הרבה נוהגים ע”פ מה שנדפס בסידורים לעמוד כמו בויברך דוד וישתבח ושירת הים וכיוצא בהם גם זה אינו מנהג לקרא למי שאינו עושה כן משנה ממנהג וראיה שהרי יש מן הגדולים שחולקים בזה.
According to R. Epstein, one does not even violate a minhag by sitting for Vayvarekh David and the rest of the prayers through Yishtabah.
So we see that when it comes to standing, Vayvvarekh David has the same status as Yishtabah, i.e., standing for both is minhag. Yet ArtScroll mistakenly separates the two, regarding the standing for Vayvarekh David as halakhah and the standing for Yishtabah (and everything in between) as “a generally accepted custom.” It is worth noting that the Mishnah Berurah, Orah Hayyim 51:19, only mentions the custom of standing in Vayvarekh David, not the current practice of standing until after Yishtabah. I must note, however, that the Kaf ha-Hayyim, Orah Hayyim 51:43, quotes R. Isaac Luria that one has to stand, צריך לעמוד, during Vayevarekh David. This is similar to ArtScroll’s formulation, but I find it hard to believe that ArtScroll’s instructions are based on kabbalistic ideas.
R. Jacob Moelin (the Maharil) did not stand for Vayvarekh David. See Sefer Maharil, Makhon Yerushalayim ed., Hilkhot Tefilah, no. 1, p. 435, and R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach, Mekor Hayyim 51:7. See also R. Jacob Sasportas, Ohel Yaakov, no. 74, for a report that in Hamburg they did not stand for Vayvarekh David.
R. Samuel Garmizon (seventeenth century), Mishpetei Tzedek, no. 70, was asked about someone who was accustomed to stand in Vayvarekh David (and also in Barukh She-Amar) but now wishes to sit. Is he allowed to? R. Garmizon states that if he mistakenly thought that it was an obligation to stand and has now learned that it is only a pious practice (minhag hasidim), then he is permitted to sit and it is not regarded as if he took on a stringency as an obligation. The Yemenite practice is also not to stand for Vayvarekh David. See R. Yihye Salih, Piskei Maharitz, ed. Ratsaby, vol. 1, p. 118.
While readers might find this all interesting, they might also be wondering what it has to do with the Radichkover, since hasn’t Ashkenazic practice in the last few generations been universally to stand? Actually, this has not been the case. R. Israel Zev Gustman stated that in the Lithuanian yeshivot the practice was to sit for Vayvarekh David, and also for Yishtabah. They only stood for Barukh She-Amar and the kaddish after Yishtabah. See Halikhot Yisrael, ed. Taplin (Lakewood, 2004), p. 117.
R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach said that the general practice is to sit for Vayvarekh David. See R. Nahum Stepansky, Ve-Alehu Lo Yibol, vol. 1, p. 61:
יש הרבה דברים שכתוב שנהגו לעמוד בהם, ואנחנו רואים שנוהגים שלא לעמוד בהם. ב”ויברך דוד” כותב הרמ”א שנהגו לעמוד – ולא עומדים.
I find this astounding. I have been to Ashkenazic synagogues all over the word and I have never seen people sit for Vayvarekh David. Yet R. Shlomo Zalman says that this is what people do. This passage comes from a discussion of how R. Shlomo Zalman dealt with a young yeshiva student who pressed him that people in the synagogue should stand when someone gets an aliyah and recites Barkhu. R. Shlomo Zalman replied that the minhag is to sit, adding, “You don’t see what people do?!” In other words, the fact that people sit when someone gets an aliyah shows us that this is the minhag and it should not be changed, despite what might appear in various halakhic texts.
Regarding standing during prayers, I have noticed something else. When I was young many of the old timers would sit for the various kaddishes. Today, in the Ashkenazic world, it seems that everyone stands for every kaddish, and this is in line with what R. Moses Isserles writes in Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 56:1. Also, it seems that for the communal mi-sheberakh for sick people everyone also stands, and in some shuls they announce that everyone should stand. Why is this done? I cannot think of any reason to stand for this mi-sheberakh unless it is a way to get people to stop talking. 

Michael Feldstein recently commented to me that in the last ten years or so he has seen something that did not exist in earlier years, namely, people standing for Parashat Zakhor. I, too, noticed this in my shul, but it has only been going on for a year or two. This year, no one announced that people should stand. Some just stood up on their own and pretty much the entire shul then joined in. Unless the rabbis start announcing that people can sit down, in a few years it will probably become obligatory to stand for Parashat Zakhor, much like it now seems to be obligatory to repeat the entire verse, whereas when I was young the only words to be repeated were תמחה את זכר עמלך. (I always paid attention to this as Ki Tetze is my bar mitzva parashah.) Today, if the Torah reader tries to repeat only these words, they will tell him to go back and repeat the entire verse. What we see from all of this is that customs are constantly being created, and they often arise from the “ritual instinct” of the people, without any rabbinic guidance.

Two final points: 1. In the word ויברך the yud is a sheva nah (silent shewa). 2. The accent is on the second to last (penultimate) syllable, the ב, not on the final syllable, the ר. This word also appears in Friday night kiddush, and it is very common to hear people, including rabbis, make the mistake of treating the yud as a sheva na (vocal shewa) and also putting the accent on the last syllable. Many people also make a mistake at the beginning of kiddush by pronouncing the word ויכלו with the accent on the second to last syllable, the כ, when it should be on the last syllable, the ל. Another common pronunciation mistake is found in the Shabbat morning kiddush. וינח has the accent on the second to last syllable, the י, not on the final syllable, the נ.

Regarding the instructions in the ArtScroll siddur, another example of confusion is found in the commentary on Av Ha-Rahamim, pp. 454-455. ArtScroll writes:
As a general rule, the memorial prayer [Av ha-Rahamim] is omitted on occasions when Tachanun would not be said on weekdays, but there are any numbers of varying customs in this matter and each congregation should follow its own practice. During Sefirah, however, all agree that אב הרחמים is recited even on Sabbaths when it would ordinarily be omitted, because many bloody massacres took place during that period at the time of the Crusades. Here, too, there are varying customs, and each congregation should follow its own.
In the second-to-last sentence, ArtScroll says that “all agree”, but in the very next sentence it states that “there are varying customs.” If there are varying customs, then obviously not “all agree”. Incidentally, R. Zvi Yehudah Kook said Av ha-Rahamim every Shabbat, i.e., even when the accepted minhag is to omit it, since he felt that after the Holocaust this was the appropriate thing to do. See Va-Ani be-Golat Sibir (Jerusalem, 1992), p. 298.
Finally, since I have been speaking about different customs in prayer, I should mention something that I forgot to include in my post here, dealing with China. I believe that, outside of Israel, there is only one Ashkenazic synagogue in the world that has birkat kohanim every day.[12] This is Ohel Leah in Hong Kong. (R. Mordechai Grunberg, who has traveled all over the world as an OU mashgiach and currently works in China, told me that as far as he knows this statement is correct. I had the pleasure to spend Shabbat with him and three mashgichim from the Star-K at the wonderful Chabad House in Shanghai in June 2018.)  
I have no doubt that the reason for the Ohel Leah minhag is because its nineteenth-century community was Sephardic. At some time in the twentieth century (no one was able to tell me when) the liturgy became Ashkenazic, but the daily birkat kohanim was kept. Interestingly, although the liturgy is Ashkenazic, it is nusah sefard. I assume the reason for this is that when they decided to adopt the Ashkenazic liturgy they wanted it to still have a Sephardic flavor, and that is why they chose nusah sefard.
* * * * * * *
2. Simcha Goldstein called my attention to how earlier this year the 5 Towns Jewish Times “touched up” a picture of Ivanka Trump.

3. Here is a painting of the Rav, R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik. It was commissioned by his wife when he was fifty years old. The Rav later gave this painting to Rabbi Julius Berman, and it is currently hanging in his home. I thank Rabbi Berman who graciously allowed me to publish a picture of the painting.

4. Tzvi H. Adams contributed three fascinating and thought-provoking posts to the Seforim Blog dealing with the impact of Karaism on rabbinic literature. He has now published a comprehensive article on this matter in Oqimta, available here. Its title is “The Development of a Waiting Period Between Meat and Dairy: 9th-14th Centuries.” There is a good deal to say about this article, but let me just make a couple of comments. On p. 4 he writes:

Even many minhagim extant today were arguably initiated as a response to the Karaite movement. For example, many historians agree that the recital of the 3rd chapter from Mishnat Shabbat, “Bamme Madlikin,” on Friday evenings following the prayer service was introduced during the time of the geonim with the intent of reinforcing the rabbinic stance on having fire prepared before Shabbat, in opposition to the Karaite view that no fire may be present in one’s home on Shabbat.[13] Similar arguments have been made for the origins of the custom of reading Pirkei Avot, the introduction of which traces rabbinic teachings to Sinai, on Shabbat afternoons. Recent scholarship has demonstrated that the creation of Ta’anit Esther in geonic times was likely a reaction to Karaite practices. 
Later in the article, p. 57 n. 141, Adams mentions what might be the most prominent example of a response to Karaite practices, namely, reciting a blessing on the Shabbat candle. This blessing does not appear in the Talmud.[14] It is a geonic innovation, and according to R. Kafih it was instituted in opposition to the Karaite view that no fire should be burning in one’s home on the Sabbath.[15] He argues that by adding a blessing to the candle lighting, the geonim created an anti-Karaite ritual. While the Karaites would sit in the dark every Friday night, not only would the Jews have light, but they would recite a blessing before lighting the candle,[16] thus showing their rejection of the Karaite position.[17] R. Meir Mazuz makes the exact same point,[18] as does R. Abraham Eliezer Hirschowitz,[19] Isaac Hirsch Weiss,[20] Jacob Z. Lauterbach,[21] and Naphtali Wieder.[22]
In fact, some have argued that not only the blessing but the candle lighting itself was instituted in response to heretics who did not use fire on the Sabbath. As Lauterbach states, “It was as a protest against the Samaritans and the Sadducees.”[23] R. Kafih sees R. Joseph Karo as sharing this opinion. He writes as follows, quoting Maggid Meisharim (and assuming that what the Maggid says represents R. Karo’s view).[24]
וכתב מרן בספרו מגיד מישרים ר”פ ויקהל ואמר ביום השבת, למימר דדוקא ביום השבת גופיה הוא דאסור לאדלקא, אבל מבעוד יום לאדלקה ליה ויהא מדליק ומבעיר ביומא דשבתא שרי. ולאפוקי מקראים דלית להו בוצינא דדליק ביומא דשבתא ע”ש. נראה שגם מרן ראה בחובת הדלקת נר בשבת גם פעולה נגד דעות הכופרים בתורה שבע”פ שעליהם נאמר ורשעים בחשך ידמו.
Regarding the Shabbat candle, it is also worth noting that R. Judah Leib Landsberg actually stated that the practice of candle lighting was adopted from the Persians. Since the Jews were so attached to what was a pagan practice, Ezra and Nehemiah directed this practice towards a holy purpose, much like the origin of sacrifices was explained by Maimonides.[25]
ואפילו היה דומה למנהגי הפרסיים, לא היה ביד עזרא ונחמיה הכח והרצון לעקור המנהג הנשתרש באומה משנים קדמוניות, ולכבה האש זר “החברים” מבית ישראל. ובכל זאת למען תת לו איזה חינוך קדושה קדשוהו ותקנוהו להדליק האש של חול לנר קודש לקדושת השבת, כסברת הרמב”ם ז”ל בענין קרבנות כנודע.
He later acknowledged that this was not a serious explanation and claimed that the practice of candle lighting went back to Moses.[26]
One final comment about Karaites: Rashi, Sukkah 35b, s.v. הרי יש, has a strange formulation. In discussing the prohibition to redeem terumah so that an Israelite could eat it, Rashi writes:

הרי יש בה היתר אכילה לכהן, וישראל נמי נפיק בה, או לקחה מכהן הואיל ויכול להאכילה לבן בתו כהן, אבל פדיון אין לה להיות ניתרת לאכילת ישראל, והאומר כן רשע הוא


How is it that Rashi refers to one who makes a mistake in this matter as a רשע? Many people have attempted to explain this passage. R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik noted that there must have been a sect that believed that it was permitted to redeem terumah, and that is why Rashi responded so sharply.[27] Regarding this suggestion of R. Soloveitchik we can say, חכם עדיף מנביא.

R. Tuvya Preschel’s Ma’amrei Tuvyah, volume 3, recently appeared. On p. 67 it reprints an article that appeared in Sinai in 1966. Preschel points out that the notion that terumah can be redeemed is stated by none other than Anan ben David in his Sefer ha-Mitzvot. It appears that Rashi knew of this Karaite opinion and this explains his harsh reaction. This was a great insight by Preschel, Unfortunately, while this insight has been cited by many in the last fifty years, Preschel is almost never given credit.
5. Many countries in Europe have Stolpersteins. These are brass plates, created by the artist Gunter Demnig, commemorating martyrs of the Holocaust. They are put in the pavement in front of buildings where the martyrs lived. A few years ago Demnig also started doing this for survivors of the Holocaust. I arranged to have one made for R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg.
After almost two years of waiting, I am happy to report that on June 18, 2018, a Stolperstein was placed at Wilmersdorfer Strasse 106, in Berlin. There was a little ceremony when the Stolperstein was inserted. Here is a picture of Demnig installing it as well as some other pictures that I think people will find moving.

[1] Yad Peshutah, Hilkhot Rotzeah 5:5.
[2] Yesodot Hinukh ha-Dat le-Dor (Riga, 1937), p. 250.
[3] Sefer ha-Meorot, Moed Katan, ed. Blau (New York, 1964), pp. 73-74 (to Moed Katan 20a).
[4] For a great story about the Rogochover told by R. Menahem Mendel Schneerson, see Likutei Sihot, vol. 16, pp.  374-375.
[5] Yeshiva University’s Gottesman Library also has a large archive of over 2500 letters and postcards sent to the Rogochover. This material was sent to the United States before World War II by the Rogochover’s daughter. I published a lengthy letter from this collection in my article on the dispute over the Frankfurt rabbinate. See Milin Havivin 3 (2007), pp 26-33.
The Zaphnath Paneah Institute at YU no longer exists. When I look at old material from YU, I often come across things that are now only a memory. Here is something I think people might find interesting.

(Unfortunately, the picture I took is not so clear.) The Beit Midrash li-Gedolei Torah was the name of a kollel at YU in the 1940s and 1950s headed by R. Avigdor Cyperstein. I thank his daughter, Mrs. Naomi Gordon, for allowing me to go through his papers where I found the stationery with the name of the kollel. R. Gedaliah Dov Schwartz was actually a member of this kollel. See Ha-Pardes, Tevet 5751, p. 58 and Kislev 5752, p. 1. Today YU has a number of kollels, see here, but none with this name. Does anyone know when this kollel stopped functioning?

[6] Mi-Shibud li-Geulah mi-Pesah ad Shavuot (n.p., 1996), p. 87.
[7] See his Masa Dumah, p. 4.
[8] Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah, vol. 1, nos. 4, 74. The first responsum mistakenly has the place of authorship as London, when it should say Luban. The city name appears correctly in the second responsum, which was written on the same day as the first. See here.
[9] See the Excursus where I discuss standing for Vayvarekh David.
[10] Saying Vayvarekh David is itself only a minhag. See Tur, Orah Hayyim 51:7:
ובתקון הגאונים כתוב יש נוהגים לומר ויברך דוד את ה’

[11] In Darkhei Moshe, Orah Hayyim 51 he writes:

המנהג עכשיו לעמוד מויברך דוד עד תפראתך
From his words we see that people only stood for the first half of Vayvarekh David.
[12] There is a lot of confusion as to how to pronounce the word ברכה in both the singular and plural construct: ברכת and ברכות. The first is pronounced birkat, as there is a dagesh in the כ. The second is pronounced birkhot, as there is no dagesh in the כ, and is parallel to the word הלכות – hilkhot. Interestingly, ברכתי (“my blessing”) does not have a dagesh in the כ even though ברכת does. I don’t think that there is any grammatical rule that can adequately explain all this. We know how the words related to ברכה are pronounced because they are attested to numerous times in Tanakh.

The word הלכות does not appear in Tanakh, and the Yemenite tradition is actually to pronounce it as hilkot, with a dagesh in the כ. See here. When not quoting from Tanakh, the Yemenite tradition is also to pronounce ברכת as birkhat, as in birkhat ha-mazon. See here.
[13] It is not only historians who say this. See R. Yitzhak Yeshaya Weiss, Birkat Elisha (Bnei Brak, 2016), vol. 3, p. 37, and see also R. Shimon Szimonowitz, Meor Eifatekha, p. 4, who cites R. Jacob Schorr and R. Serayah Deblitsky.
[14] A number of Ashkenazic rishonim quote a passage from the Jerusalem Talmud that speaks of a blessing on the Sabbath light, yet this is not found in any extant text and scholars agree that it is not an authentic Yerushalmi text. See the comprehensive discussion in R. Ratzon Arusi, “Birkat Hadlakat Ner shel Yom Tov,” Sinai 85 (1979), pp. 63ff. See also Jacob Z. Lauterbach, Rabbinic Essays (Cincinatti, 1951), p. 459 n. 98 and Sefer Ra’avyah, ed. Aptowitzer, vol. 1, p. 263 n. 10.
[15] See Teshuvot ha-Rav Kafih le-Talmido Tamir Ratzon, ed. Itamar Cohen (Kiryat Ono, 2016), pp. 162-163, and R. Kafih’s commentary to Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Shabbat 5:1, n. 1.
[16] I use the word “candle”, rather than the plural, “candles”, as the practice of lighting two candles only originated later, in medieval Ashkenaz. See R. Gedaliah Oberlander, Minhag Avoteinu Be-Yadenu: Shabbat Kodesh (Monsey, 2010), pp. 11ff. I was surprised to learn that R. Meir Soloveitchik’s daughters each lit a Shabbat candle and recited the blessing from the time they were three years old. See Da-Haziteih le-Rabbi Meir, vol. 1, p. 323.
[17] In later years we find that some Karaites adopted the practice of lighting candles on Friday night. Se Dov Lipetz, “Ha-Karaim be-Lita,” in Yahadut Lita (Tel Aviv, 1959), vol. 1, p. 142
[18] Bayit Ne’eman 38 (25 Heshvan 5777), p. 3, Bayit Ne’eman 118 (10 Tamuz 5778), p. 2 n. 9. In She’elot u-Teshuvot Bayit Ne’eman, p. 190, he does not present this approach as absolute fact, but states that it is “nearly certain”.

וקרוב לודאי שברכת נר שבת נתקנה בימי הגאונים להוציא מדעת הקראים

[19] Otzar Kol Minhagei Yeshurun (St. Louis, 1917), p. 232.
[20] Dor Dor ve-Doreshav (Vilna, 1904), vol. 4, p. 97. Weiss points to other examples of practices that he suggests were a response to Karaites, such as counting the omer at night, betrothing a woman with a ring, and reciting רבי ישמעאל אומר in the morning prayers. R. Judah Leib Maimon claims that the practice of a Saturday night melaveh malka was instituted by the geonim in opposition to the Karaites, who saw the Sabbath as a difficult and depressing day, in contrast to traditional Jews who find it difficult to part with the Sabbath. See Sefer ha-Gra, ed. Maimon (Jerusalem, 1954), vol. 1, p. 80.
[21] Rabbinic Essays, p. 460. He writes that the blessing was “probably intended as a more emphatic protest against the Karaites.”
[22] “Berakhah Bilti Yeduah al Keriat Perek ‘Bameh Madlikin,’” Sinai 82 (1978), p. 217.
[23] Rabbinic Essays, p. 459. See also Yehudah Muriel, Iyunim ba-Mikra (Tel Aviv, 1960), vol. 2, p. 131.
[24] Commentary to Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Shabbat 5:1, n. 1.
[25] Hikrei Lev (Satmar, 1908), vol. 4, p. 84.
[26] Ibid, pp. 84, 86ff.
[27] Shimon Yosef Meler, Uvdot ve-Hanhagot mi-Beit Brisk (Jerusalem, 2000), vol. 4, p. 310.



The Satmar Rebbe and a Censored Mishnah Berurah, and R. Baruch Rabinovich of Munkács

The Satmar Rebbe and a Censored Mishnah Berurah, and R. Baruch Rabinovich of Munkács

Marc B. Shapiro

1. In my recent interview in Der Veker, available here, I said that I hope to discuss how the Satmar Rebbe was mistaken in identifying a Zionist censorship in the Mishnah Berurah.

In Ha-Maor, Elul 5716, p. 30, M. Abramson tells the following story that appears under the heading על זיוף המשנה ברורה. The Satmar Rebbe was away from home and asked his assistant, R. Joseph Ashkenazi (who is the source of the story), to bring him a book. Ashkenazi brought the first book that came to his hand. It was a Mishnah Berurah printed in Israel. After investigating the history of the printing of the Mishnah Berurah at the National Library of Israel, I concluded that the copy the Satmar Rebbe was given was published by Pardes in 1955 (one year before the event described). Here is the title page.

Later the Rebbe returned the book to Ashkenazi and said that as far as he remembers, the language in section 156 of this copy of the Mishnah Berurah differs from what appears in other editions. Ashkenazi checked an older edition of the Mishnah Berurah and discovered that the Israeli edition had altered the original text.

The original Mishnah Berurah 156:4 reads:

מצוה על כל אדם לאהוב את כ”א מישראל כגופו שנא’ ואהבת לרעך כמוך וכו’ ודוקא רעך בתורה ומצוות אבל אדם רשע שראה אותו שעבר עבירה המפורסמת בישראל ולא קיבל תוכחה מצוה לשנאתו.

I have underlined the words that Abramson calls attention to. While the original text reads: לאהוב את כ”א מישראל, the Pardes edition has לאהוב את עמיתו. Abramson notes, “In this they wanted to show their support for democracy, that one needs to love not just the Jews but also the Arabs.” The Pardes edition also omits the second series of words that I have underlined, which express sentiments that are not very tolerant of the irreligious,[1] as well as some other words.

Here is the uncensored page in the Mishnah Berurah.

Here is the censored page in the Pardes edition.

Upon looking again at the Abramson article, I see that I misremembered, as it does not actually say that the Satmar Rebbe attributed this censorship to the Zionist publisher. He simply noticed the problem in the Israeli edition and said that this Mishnah Berurah is not like the others he has seen. It is Abramson who explicitly blames the Zionists (although perhaps the Rebbe agreed with Abramson). Abramson sarcastically writes that apparently they also provide copies of the Mishnah Berurah “to the children of Mapai and Mapam,” and this explains why they altered and censored the text.

Yet the truth is that what we have just seen has nothing to do with the Israeli publisher, Pardes. I found the same censorship in a Mishnah Berurah that appeared in Warsaw in 1895, and interestingly, it is this very edition that is found on hebrewbooks.org here. In other words, the changes we have seen were inserted under Czarist rule, and the Israeli publisher simply reprinted a copy of the Mishnah Berurah without realizing that it was a censored version.[2]

I know of another example where the altering of a text was blamed on the Zionists, and this time the one doing the blaming was a Mizrachi rabbi, R. Avigdor Cyperstein. In the Mossad ha-Rav Kook Archive of Religious Zionism there is a letter from R. Cyperstein to Dr. Yitzhak Rafael dated May 14, 1967. The relevant section reads as follows:

ידידי היקר – אני רוצה לזכות אותך בזכות הרבים, ובטח לא תחמיץ את המצווה הזו: כעת בכל העולם נפוצים הסידורים תוצרת הארץ הוצאת “בית רפאל”, ת”א – “סדור התפלה השלם” – והנה מצאתי בסידור זה דבר נורא: במעמדות של יום הששי מובא הגמ’ מנחות מד. המעשה באדם אחד שהי’ זהיר במצוות ציצית וכו’ ושם כתוב “באה לבית מדרשו של ר’ חייא, אמרה לו רבי צוה עלי ויעשוני גיורת וכו’, – והמולי”ם הללו העיזו לשלוח יד בגירסת הגמ’, ובמקום ויעשוני גיורת – השליכו את הגיורת החוצה, והכניסו במקומה “עברית” . . . והמרחק-התהום בין גיורת לעברית – אין צורך לבאר, וגם כוונתם הטרופה, בוקעה מזה, ומעלה סרחון, בכי’ לדורות. דומני שאין מי שהוא שהעיז לכבוש את המלכה בבית וכל ישראל – מתפללים מסידור זה, וע”כ מצווה לפרסם זה ברבים, ולתקן בהוצאות החדשות.

It is hard to know whether what R. Cyperstein refers to was indeed a Zionist inspired alteration. I say this because the version ויעשוני עברית is also attested to in a few sources that pre-date Zionism. I think it is more likely that the publisher just assumed that this is a more authentic reading.

Since I have been discussing the Satmar Rebbe, here is as good a place as any to note that contrary to popular belief, the name Satmar does not come from St. Mary. The original meaning seems to be a personal name, and in popular etymology the word came to mean “great village.”[3] Yet even in the Satmar community some believe that the word comes from St. Mary, and because of this they pronounce it as “Sakmar”. In pre-war Hungary this pronunciation was common among many Orthodox Jews, not only Satmar hasidim.[4] For one example of this, here is Samuel Noah Gottlieb’s entry on Satmar in his rabbinic encyclopedia, Ohalei Shem (Pinsk, 1912), p. 425. As you can see, while “Szatmar” appears in the vernacular, in the Hebrew the city is spelled “Sakmar”. There are many more such examples.

This avoidance of saying the word “Satmar” is similar to the way Jews referred in Hebrew and Yiddish to the Austrian town Deutschkreutz. Unlike the case with Satmar, when it came to Deutschkreutz the universal Jewish name was Tzeilem (Kreutz=cross=tzelem). On the other hand, there was a significant Jewish community in the Lithuanian city of Mariampole, whose name comes from Mary. Yet I am not aware of anyone who avoided saying the name of this city. Shimon Steinmetz emailed me as follows:

We might also note other cities with Christian-y names, like Kristianpol. Kristianpoler was a name used even by rabbis, cf. Rabbi Yechiel Kristianpoler, and his son Rabbi Meir. In addition, the Lithuanian town Kalvarija, which has a very Christian association, Jews used it without any issue. On the other hand, the Jews called St Petersburg, “Petersburg,” without the “St.”

One other point about Satmar: In a lecture I mentioned that one of the old-time American rabbis met with the Satmar Rebbe and concluded that when it came to the State of Israel, you simply could not speak to him about it. He was like a shoteh le-davar ehad when it came to this in that no matter how much you tried to convince him otherwise, he refused to listen to reason. Someone asked me which rabbi said this. It was R. Ephraim Jolles of Philadelphia (as I heard from a family member). I don’t think his formulation is too harsh, as anyone who has read the Satmar Rebbe’s writings can attest. It does not bother me if he or anyone else wants to be an anti-Zionist. However, the anti-Zionist rhetoric found in the Satmar Rebbe’s writings, and those of his successors, is often more extreme than what we find among the pro-Palestinian groups. Take a look at this passage from Va-Yoel Moshe, p. 11.

אם נקח כל פירצות הדור והעבירות המרובות הנעשות בכל העולם וישימו אותם בכף מאזנים אחת, ומדינה הציונית בכף מאזנים השני’, [המדינה הציונית] תכריע את הכל, שהוא השורש פורה ראש ולענה של אבי אבות הטומאה שבכל אבות הנזיקין שבכל העולם כולו, והן המה המטמאים את כל העולם כולו.

By what logic can one claim that such an outrageous passage would be anti-Semitic if said by Mahmoud Abbas, Linda Sarsour, Tamika Mallory, or Max Blumenthal, but not so if the very same thing is said in Satmar?

If anyone wants to see the results of this rhetoric, here are two videos with kids from Satmar. In this one the children are being taught that the Zionists started World War II and to hope for the destruction of the State of Israel.


In this video children were told that Netanyahu was in the car and they were to throw eggs at it.

It is very painful to see how children are being indoctrinated with such hatred. Again I ask, if such a video surfaced from a leftist camp, there would be no hesitation in labeling it anti-Semitic. So why are people hesitant to conclude that Satmar is also involved in spreading anti-Semitism?

The general assumption is that the Satmar Rebbe hated Zionism and the State of Israel so much, that he was inclined to believe even the most far-out anti-Semitic canards against the State. I have always found this difficult to believe. Say what you will about the Rebbe, there is no denying that he was very intelligent. Thus, I have a hard time accepting that he could have really believed in Zionist control of the media and other anti-Semitic tropes found in his polemical writings. In other words, I think it is more likely that he did not believe in any of these things but said them anyway in order to convince his followers not to give up the fight against Zionism, a fight that had been abandoned by so many former anti-Zionists after the Holocaust and the creation of the State of Israel in 1948. In such a battle it was necessary to turn Israel not only into something bad, but actually the worst sin imaginable.

R. Nahum Abraham, a Satmar hasid and prolific author, has recently written that the Satmar Rebbe would deny things that he knew were true. He regarded his denials as “necessary lies,” in order to prevent people from being led in the wrong direction.[5] If the Rebbe thought that it was permissible to deny the truth of certain hasidic stories in order to prevent his followers from being influenced by them, isn’t it possible that he would exaggerate the evils of the State of Israel in order to best indoctrinate his followers with an anti-Zionist perspective?

This approach also would explain a big problem that no one has been able to adequately account for. How was the Satmar Rebbe able to have friendly and respectful relationships with people who, based on what he writes, he should have regarded as completely out of the fold due to their involvement with the State of Israel? This includes even men like R. Aharon Kotler who supported voting in the Israeli elections, which the Satmar Rebbe claimed is “the most severe prohibition in the entire Torah.”[6] Yet we know that the Satmar Rebbe respected R. Aharon and others who had a very different perspective.[7] Can’t this be seen as evidence that there is a good deal of ideologically-driven exaggeration in the Satmar Rebbe’s writings, and that not everything he says really reflects his actual views? After all, if he really thought that voting in the elections was the most severe prohibition in the Torah and the State of Israel was completely destroying Judaism, would he still be able to be on good terms with rabbis who instructed their followers to vote and be part of the State?

2. Since I mentioned Munkács in this post, let me return to another recent post here where I discussed R. Baruch Rabinovich, the son-in-law of R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira and his successor as Munkácser Rebbe. When I wrote the post I was unaware of the fact that R. Baruch’s grandson, R. Yosef Rabinovich, recently published Ner Baruch, which is a collection of Torah writings and letters from R. Baruch. He includes in the volume the haskamot written by R. Baruch. I examined new printings of the volumes with haskamot that I was unaware of and found that R. Baruch’s haskamah to the first edition of R. Yitzhak Adler, Seder Shanah ha-Aharonah (Munkács, 1937) was deleted in subsequent printings. The same thing happened with R. Baruch’s haskamah to R. Judah Zvi Lustig’s Yedei Sofer (Debrecen, 1938). Here is how the page with the haskamot looks in the original printing.

Here is how the page with the haskamot looks in the reprint, where R. Baruch’s haskamah has been deleted.

Another point about R. Baruch: In 1946 he tried to become chief rabbi of Tel Aviv but lost out to R. Isser Yehudah Unterman. This is discussed in Samuel Heilman’s Who Will Lead Us? From a letter that appears in the archive of R. Isaac Herzog, and was sent to an unknown rabbi, we see that in 1950 R. Baruch was also interested in becoming av beit din in Tel Aviv.

This information is, to the best of my knowledge, not recorded anywhere else. In this letter, which I found here (a site that contains more interesting information and pictures about R. Baruch) we that R. Herzog, R. Unterman, and R. Yaakov Moshe Toledano were strongly opposed to R. Baruch receiving this appointment. Although the reason for this opposition is not mentioned, it is perhaps because they felt it was an abomination that someone from the anti-Zionist Munkács dynasty should have such a position in the State of Israel. However, as I have mentioned in my previous post, it is doubtful that R. Baruch ever really shared his father-in-law’s strong anti-Zionism. It is possible that the anti-Zionist statements he made in the pre-war years might not have reflected his actual beliefs but were due to his position as rebbe. That is, as the successor of R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira he felt that he had to make such statements. It is also the case that had he not continued his father-in-law’s anti-Zionist stance he would not have retained much of a following in Munkács.

When R. Baruch wanted to become chief rabbi of Tel Aviv, a letter in opposition to this was published by Chaim Kugel, head of the Holon Municipal Council:

Is it conceivable that this man . . . who hounded Zionism and Zionists . . . who loyally continued the line of the Munkács court, which cursed and banned any Jew who pronounced the word Zion on his lips . . . is it conceivable that this man will appear as a representative and moral leader in the first Hebrew city, and be a guide to its residents and Zionists?[8]

In those days it was obvious that positions of chief rabbis of important cities would go to Zionist rabbis. Here, for example, is a letter to R. Unterman from David Zvi Pinkas, an important Mizrachi figure and signatory of Israel’s Declaration of Independence.[9] Note how Pinkas tells R. Unterman that the Mizrachi expects him to follow the Mizrachi approach in everything he does. If R. Unterman could not commit to this, then Pinkas would have found another rabbi who could.

In my earlier post I neglected to mention R. Baruch’s Hashav Nevonim that appeared in 2016. This book is full of interesting material, and the more I read from R. Baruch, the more impressed I am. He really was a fascinating figure in so many ways.

There is a good deal I can say about Hashav Nevonim, but let me just call attention to the first essay that appears in the book, focused on conversion. Conversion is a matter often in the news. I have said on numerous occasions that what currently passes as the standard approach to conversion was not the case at all in previous years. To begin with, among the rabbis there were different understandings of what kabbalat ha-mitzvot entailed, and the currently accepted view that a prospective convert must commit to become fully halakhically observant, as practiced today in Orthodox communities, was not the view of many, and perhaps not even the view of most. The notion that a conversion could be annulled after the fact was hardly ever put into practice, although even this is found on occasion and R. Baruch cites some authorities who speak about this very point. Thus, it is not, as has often been alleged, a modern haredi idea with no historical basis although, as mentioned, it was very rare.

After going through the various views on conversion, R. Baruch concludes as follows (p. 47).

מנהג העולם נראה כמקבל דיעה זו, וכל מי שנתגייר, בין ששומר מצוות, ובין שחוזר ועובר עבירות, דינו כישראל, כל שקיבל עצמו עול מצות עם גירותו.

I have underlined the words which are not currently accepted by many (most?) conversion courts and which are at the heart of the controversy regarding voiding conversions. Today, the assumption of many conversion courts is that if someone who converts is later seen violating halakhah in a serious way, we can assume that this person never really accepted the mitzvot at the conversion, and the conversion is therefore not valid. It is this argument which was hardly ever put into practice in previous years and now appears to be quite common, so much so that converts claim to feel that their conversions are always “on condition,” namely, that even many years after converting there is the possibility that the conversion will be declared invalid because of a lack of proper kabbalat ha-mitzvot.

On pp. 27-28, R. Baruch calls attention to the novel view of R. Isaac Benjamin Wolf, author of Nahalat Binyamin (Amsterdam, 1682), a book reprinted a number of times and which carries the haskamah by R. Jacob Sasportas. Here is the title page.

R. Isaac is described as rabbi of מדינת מרק. This refers to the German county of Mark, about which see here.

Here is page 89a in Nahalat Binyanim

According to R. Isaac, in places such as Spain and Portugal, where one could not practice Judaism openly, if a Jewish man marries a non-Jewish woman, and the woman chooses to practice Judaism, both she and her children are regarded as Jewish. How can she be Jewish when she never immersed in the mikveh and there was no beit din to preside over the conversion? R. Isaac says that there is no obligation to immerse in the mikveh when there is danger (as there would be in a place with the Inquisition looking to find Crypto-Jews). Although he does not elaborate, it is obvious that according to R. Isaac kabbalat ha-mitzvot in front of a beit din is not an absolute requirement. In other words, he holds that in a she’at ha-dehak one can convert on one’s own, without a beit din.

This is a fascinating position that is at odds with accepted halakhah, so much so that most people won’t even believe that such a position is possible. R. Baruch is not able to cite anyone who agrees with it. The position of Nahalat Binyamim is discussed by R. Eliezer Waldenberg, who not surprisingly completely rejects it.[10] However, he does cite a medieval view that has some similarity to Nahalat Binyamim:

היה מקום להביא סמוכין לזה משיטת האביאסף שהובא במרדכי ביבמות סו”פ החולץ שמפרש דברי הגמ’ שם שאומרת מי לא טבלה לנדותה שמשמע דבדיעבד הוי גר גמור גם בטבילה בלי ג’.

Unlike R. Waldenberg, R. Hayyim Amsalem, Zera Yisrael, p. 290, does not reject Nahalat Binyamin out of hand. Instead he writes:

חזו דברי גאון קדמון זה לאיצטרופי, ולדון להקל בבני האנוסים ובבני יהודים לענין גיורם וחזרתם לדת, שכל שימולו ויטבלו לשם יהדות בהודעת מקצת מצוות כהלכה, סגי להו אף לכתחילה, אע”פ שאנחנו לא יודעים מה שהיה אח”כ לענין קיום המצוות, וזה אתי אפי’ למ”ד קבלת מצוות מעכבת.

See also Jacob Sofer, Sipurei Yaakov (Lvov, 1913), vol. 2, pp. 7ff. (no. 42), for a lengthy story starring the Maharal. The tale is obviously fictional, but of importance for our purposes is that the story, reported in a hasidic text, tells of a woman who ran away from her non-Jewish husband and married a Jewish man, had children, and was a righteous woman. However, this woman never converted with a beit din, and yet on p. 8a it specifically states that she and her children are to be regarded as Jewish. R. Nahum Abraham points to this as an example of an anti-halakhic hasidic story that cannot be true.[11]

Finally, Nahmanides in his commentary to Yevamot 45b has an interesting view and I do not know if it is accepted.

ואיפשר לומר דגבי קבלת מצוות צריך שלשה אפילו בדיעבד דמשפט כתיב ביה מה התם שנים שדנו אין דיניהן דין אף כאן אינו גר אפילו בדיעבד, אבל מי שהודיעוהו מקצת ענשן של מצות ומתן שכרן של מצות וקיבל עליו בב”ד לטבול ולמול, אם הלך ומל וטבל שלא בפני ב”ד הרי זה כשר ולא פסלינן לזרעיה

3. There are many new books to speak about. One of them is Chaim I. Waxman, Social Change and Halakhic Evolution in American Orthodoxy. The content of the book can be seen from the title. I will be reviewing this book in an academic journal, so I do not need to speak about it here. I would, however, like to call attention to one point that will not be mentioned in my review. Chapter 5 is titled “Tensions Within Modern Orthodoxy.” Not surprisingly, it deals with women rabbis. On pp. 109-110, Waxman refers to R. Jeremy Wieder’s view on the matter (the name is misspelled “Weider”). He quotes from an article in the Yeshiva University Commentator, which summarizes R. Wieder’s position as follows: “[I]n light of the success of the yoetzet halacha program in increasing overall observance in the communities that he has observed, it may be very beneficial to have women rabbis.”

I was quite surprised to see such a liberal position expressed by a YU Rosh Yeshiva, and I checked the source which appears here. R. Wieder is indeed quoted saying, among other things, that there is no binding tradition on the matter of women rabbis since the issue of women in leadership positions is a new question, thus preventing the development of a “stream of Jewish tradition.” However, when I read the article I did not find anything about how it may be “beneficial to have women rabbis.” I then noticed the following at the beginning of the article. “Editor’s Note: This article has been edited to more precisely convey the opinions represented.” In this case, I think the meaning of “more precisely convey” is that what originally appeared was altered (presumably at R. Wieder’s request) in order to prevent controversy. Yet even with the removal of R. Wieder’s view that it may be “beneficial to have women rabbis,” the current text of the article does not alter the substance of R. Wieder’s opinion. Thus, we find the following:

Lastly, Rabbi Wieder talked about the issue from a philosophical standpoint. He argued that expanding the pool of rabbinic students could lead to an increase in qualified rabbinic candidates. Rabbi Wieder added that he has observed the yoetzet halacha program increase overall halachic observance in the communities it serves and he expressed his optimism that women rabbis could generate similar improvement.

These words are certainly in opposition to the OU’s recent statement on women and religious leadership which is available here.

The question I have been asked a few times is if in the current political climate it is possible for a rabbi at a mainstream Modern Orthodox synagogue, or a teacher at a mainstream Modern Orthodox school, to feel free to express support for the ordination of women. Would such a rabbi or teacher risk censure from his colleagues or even the possibility of losing his job? The answer to these questions will determine if we are dealing with a real wedge issue (as I think we are).

Another new book is R. Bezalel Naor’s Shod Melakhim. R. Naor is well known as an outstanding interpreter of R. Kook. His great knowledge of the entire scope of Jewish thought (not just R. Kook) is apparent to anyone who examines his writings. Yet I do not know how many are aware of R. Naor’s achievements when it comes to rabbinic literature. This latest book is a collection of R. Naor’s studies on various halakhot in the Mishneh Torah. As part of R. Naor’s explication of these halakhot, he offers the reader wide-ranging enlightening discussions using numerous sources, both traditional and academic. For those who can appreciate the synthesis of the traditional and the academic approaches to the study of Maimonides, R. Naor’s new book is a real treat.

In the past I have spoken about the late R. Mordechai Spielman’s great work on the Zohar, Tiferet Zvi. The seventh volume of Tiferet Zvi has recently appeared, and can even be purchased on Amazon. Anyone who is interested in how the Zohar has been interpreted, and the impact of the Zohar on later rabbinic literature, will benefit greatly from of R. Spielman’s writings.

A new book (over 600 pages) by Benjamin Brown has appeared. It focuses on the Karlin hasidic dynasty. When I received the book in the mail, the first thought that came to my head is that Brown is a phenomenon. There is no other way to put it. It is not just the quantity of his literary output that is astounding, but also the quality, as everything he writes is worth reading.

____________

[1] Regarding the Hafetz Hayyim’s view of the non-religious, which is very much at odds with current approaches in the Lithuanian yeshiva world (at least in America), see Benjamin Brown, “Ha-‘Ba’al Bayit’: R. Yisrael Meir ha-Kohen, he-‘Hafetz Hayyim,’” in Brown and Nissim Leon, eds., Ha-Gedolim (Jerusalem, 2017), pp. 127ff. Brown also shows that in a few letters the Hafetz Hayyim adopts a more moderate perspective.
[2] In future posts I hope to say a good deal more about the Satmar Rebbe’s writings. For now, let me just respond to someone who emailed me and compared R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, the Munkácser Rebbe, to the Satmar Rebbe. It is true that they are similar in terms of their strong opposition to Zionism, and the Satmar Rebbe can be seen as the Munkácser Rebbe’s successor in this matter. However, in terms of their scholarly approach, they are quite different, as the Satmar Rebbe did not have the Munkácser’s critical sense. In fact, I was quite surprised to learn that the Satmar Rebbe accepted as authentic the forged anti-Zionist letters published by Chaim Bloch in his three volume Dovev Siftei Yeshenim. See R. Dov Schwartz, Meshiv Devarim (New York, 2011), pp. 140-141.
[3] See here.
[4] Shimon Steinmetz called my attention to סאקמאר appearing as the name of the city as early as 1859 in R. Hayyim Meir Ze’ev ha-Kohen, Sha’arei Hayyim (Pressburg 1859), in the list of subscribers at the beginning of the book. (You can find this on Google books, but the version of the book on hebrewbooks.org is missing these pages, as well as other pages.) This shows that referring to the city as “Sakmar” was already common. Steinmetz also called my attention to the same thing in the list of subscribers found at the end of R. Hayyim Joseph David Azulai, Kise Rahamim (Ungvar, 1870). In this case, you can see the subscribers in the copy on hebrewbooks.org, but it has been removed from the copy on Otzar ha-Chochmah. If this was removed intentionally, on the assumption that it is not really part of the sefer, it is a big problem, as the subscriber information can be of great historical importance. It is vital that both hebrewbooks.org and Otzar ha-Chochmah scan books in their entirety, without making any changes whatsoever.

R. Yoel Teitelbaum used the term Satmar all the time, and it was on his stationery, but I did find a number of places where he wrote Sakmar, spelled סאקמער and סאקמיר. See e.g., his approbations to R. Abraham Hayyim Reinman, Va-Yetze Perah (Satmar, 1940), R. Asher Steinmetz, Mikveh Yisrael ha-Shem (Jerusalem, 1961), and his letter in Divrei Yoel: Mikhtavim (Brooklyn, 1981), vol. 2, p. 81. See also Esther Farbstein, Be-Seter ha-Madregah (Jerusalem, 2013), p. 862, for a 1949 letter from Budapest to R. Yoel in which the word Sakmar is used. Shimon Steinmetz wrote to me as follows:

I think you can see by his [R. Yoel’s] correct spelling in Latin letters that he didn’t take it seriously, and perhaps not too many Jews did. After all, R. Joel Teitelbaum himself, who I think most people would consider fairly zealous, did not insist or use it very much. . . . This tells me that when people did call it Sakmar, most of them were probably just calling it that because it was already what Jews called it. Perhaps it was even a sly joke to begin with.

[5] Peti Ya’amin le-Khol Davar (n.p., 2017), p. 31
[6] Divrei Yoel, Mikhtavim, no. 90.
[7] In a future post I will publish a letter I received from Moshe Beck dealing with this point. Beck is the chief rabbi of the U.S. Neturei Karta.
[8] Translation in Heilman, Who Will Lead Us?, p. 45.
[9] The letter is found in the Israel State Archives, David Zvi Pinkas collection, 3070/15-פ.
[10] Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 17, no. 42:11.
[11] Heikhal ha-Besht 18 (Nisan 5767), p. 18. For an Arabic version of this story, see Bayit Neeman 96 (26 Tevet 5776), pp. 4-5.



Approbations and Restrictions: Printing the Talmud in Eighteenth Century Amsterdam and Two Frankfurts

Approbations and Restrictions:
Printing the Talmud in Eighteenth Century Amsterdam and Two Frankfurts
by Marvin J. Heller
Approbations designed to protect the investment of printers and their sponsors when publishing a large work such as the Talmud were well intentioned. Unfortunately, the results were counter-productive, resulting in acrimonious disputes between publishers within and between cities. This article discusses the first approbations, issued for the Frankfurt on the Oder Talmud (1697-99), and the resulting dispute with printers in Amsterdam in 1714-17. The background of the presses and the pressmarks utilized by the printers are discussed, giving a fuller picture of the printing of the Talmud in the subject period, as well as addressing antecedent (Benveniste) and subsequent editions.
Approbations for books have multiple purposes, among them commendations, indicating approval or praise for the subject work, confirming that a book’s contents do not contain forbidden or prohibited matter, and to protect a publisher’s investment from competitive editions for a fixed period of time. This article is concerned with the last purpose, here rabbinic approbations (hascoma, pl. hascomot) limiting or preventing rival editions of the Talmud published in the last decade of the seventeenth century into the first half of the eighteenth century.
The restrictive approbations discussed here are unlike those issued previously, such as the first approbations for a Hebrew book, R. Jacob Barukh ben Judah Landau’s (15th cent.) concise halakhic compendium, Sefer Ha-Agur (Naples, 1487), one of seven approbations, that of R. Judah ben Jehiel Rofe (Messer Leone, 15th cent.) stating he has examined ha-Agur, and, “it is a work that gives forth pleasant words. . . . I have, therefore, set my signature unto these nectars of the honeycomb, these words of beauty,” or those in Italy or in Basle, which assured the authorities that nothing untoward or offensive to Christianity was included in the book, or to current approbations, which assure the reader that a work’s contents are in conformity with the community’s religious standards. In contrast, the approbation issued for the Frankfurt on the Oder Berman Talmud, and to subsequent editions, was a license for a fixed number of years, prohibiting other publishers from printing competitive editions that would prevent the printer and his sponsor(s), who would otherwise be reluctant to make the substantial investment required to print such a large multi-volume work as the Talmud, from realizing a return on their investment.
The discord arising from restrictive approbations for printing the Talmud were not the first such disputes. In Amsterdam, disputes between printers arose over editions of the Bible. Johannes Georgius Nisselius and Joseph Athias competed in the mid-seventeenth century over a Sacra Biblia (Hebrew Bible) for the use of students and several years later Athias and Uri Phoebus were involved in controversy over their translations of the Bible into Yiddish, competing for the Jewish market in Poland. Arguing over the right to publish for and sell to that market, they sought to reinforce their positions by seeking approbations from the Polish, as well as the Amsterdam rabbinate.[1] Nevertheless, their competition pales in contrast to the recurring altercations over the right to print the Talmud, which spanned several centuries and much of the European continent.
Raphael Natan Nuta Rabbinovicz writes that the intent in granting this and subsequent approbations was for the good of the community, to insure investors a reasonable return on their investment. The result, however, was that the Talmud was printed only eight times in the century from 1697 to 1797, and the price of a set of the Talmud was dear. Prior to that the Talmud had been printed several times in Italy and Poland within a relatively short period of time, the primary impediment then being the opposition of the Church and local authorities. Rabbinovicz concludes that after 1797 the use of restrictive approbations declined, with the consequence that within four decades, to 1835, the Talmud was printed nine times.[2]
During last decade of the seventeenth century into the first half of the eighteenth century several rival editions of the Talmud appeared, beginning with the Frankfurt on the Oder Talmud (1697-99) followed by two incomplete editions in Amsterdam (1714-17 and 1714), the Frankfurt on the Main Talmud (1720–22), again in Amsterdam (1752–1765), and finally the Sulzbach Red (1755-63) and Black (1766-70). We are concerned with and focus on the early editions, that is, on the dispute between the Frankfurt on the Oder and Amsterdam printers, their dispute resulting from restrictive approbations issued to presses printing the Talmud. This article discusses the background of the Hebrew presses that published these Talmud editions in the seventeenth and eighteenth century; its primary focus, being the disputes resulting from the restrictive approbations.
I Amsterdam – Benveniste Talmud
Amsterdam has a distinguished place in Jewish history. Among the notable features of that city’s Jewish community are its printing-houses, among the foremost in Europe for centuries. Highly regarded, Amsterdam imprints were distributed and sold throughout all of Europe. The preeminence of Amsterdam as a European book center is evident, for it is estimated that the output of the Dutch presses in the seventeenth century exceeded the combined production of all the presses of all other European countries. The number of book-printers totaled 273 at its peak in 1675-99, employing at its height in excess of 30,000 people supported through some facet of the book trade.[3] The important works published by its presses include editions of the Talmud, beginning with the Benveniste Talmud of 1644-47, through the much praised Proops’ Talmud of 1752-65. In addition to complete editions of the Talmud individual treatises, frequently in a smaller format, were also published for students and individuals who did not require or who could not afford a complete Talmud.[4]
The printing of Hebrew books in Amsterdam by Jews begins in 1627, when two printers published books, Manasseh (Menasseh) Ben Israel (1604-57) and Daniel de Fonesca. The former’s press was the first to publish with a Sephardic rite prayer-book, completed on January 1, 1627. Manasseh Ben Israel would achieve acclaim that, together with its founder’s many other achievements, is still recalled today. Manasseh did not publish Talmudic tractates but his press did issue three critical editions of Mishnayot (1632, 1643, and 1646). He also intended to publish an edition of the Talmud but that did not come to pass.
The next printer of Hebrew books of import in Amsterdam was Immanuel (Imanoel) Benveniste. Benveniste is believed to have been among the Jewish refugees from Spain or Portugal, and that he was descended from the illustrious Sephardic family of that name.[5] Beneveniste relocated to Amsterdam because, by the mid-seventeenth century that city offered better opportunities for the distribution of Hebrew books than any city in Italy.[6] Beneveniste was the publisher of the first Amsterdam Talmud, printed from 1644-47. The Benveniste Talmud is in a smaller (c. 260:195 cm.) quarto format than the usual large folio editions.[7]

Fig. 1
Although not subject to restrictive approbations it is included here due to its relevance to the history of the printing the Talmud in Amsterdam and because the title-pages of Benveniste’s publications are distinguished by his escutcheon, an upright lion facing inward towards a tower; a star is above the lion and the tower. The lion is on the viewer’s right, the tower on the left. At least six forms of Benveniste’s device have been identified. In all cases, excepting his Talmudic treatises, Benveniste’s insignia is set in a crest above an architectural frame surrounding the text of the title page. On the title-pages of the Benveniste tractates his mark appears at the bottom of the page in an ornamental shield, with a helmet in the crest (fig. 1). Given the high regard of most Benveniste imprints this device was subsequently used by several printers in Amsterdam, including two of the following subject editions, as well as by other presses in various locations.[8]
This Talmud has been has been praised for restoring expurgated material. Unlike Benveniste’s other publications, however, the Beneveniste Talmud is not highly regarded. Raphael Natan Nuta Rabbinovicz quotes from an approbation given by R. Moses Judah ha-Cohen, Av Bet Din, of the Ashkenazi community in Amsterdam, for the Berman Talmud (Frankfurt on the Oder, 1697-99) which states that Benveniste, due to his concern over expenses, printed a Talmud edition which was, due to its small size, difficult to learn from. Furthermore, Benveniste used letters that were “the smallest of the small and blurred so that the users eyes become heavy and his sight wanders as if from old age.”[9] This notwithstanding, no less a personage than the Vilna Gaon (R. Elijah ben Soloman Zalman, Gr”a, 1720-70) made use of the Benveniste Talmud, Rabbinovicz writing that “he had heard from a great Talmudic scholar who related that he had seen a Talmud from which the Gr”a had learned by R. Judah Bachrach (1775-1846) av bet din Seiny with his (Gr”a’s) handwritten annotations, brief and varied from his printed annotations, and that it was a Benveniste Talmud.”[10]
II – Frankfurt on the Oder – Michael Gottschalk
Printing with Hebrew letters in Frankfurt on the Oder begins when the Christian printers Joachim and Friedreich Hartmann (1594-1631), who, using new Hebrew fonts and vowels cast by Zechariah Crato (?) of Wittenberg, published a Hebrew Bible in 1595-96. While there are references to an even earlier Bible, half a century earlier, that is uncertain. More than a century later, Johann Christoph Beckmann (1641-1711), professor of Greek language history, and theology at the University of Frankfurt on the Oder, operated a printing-press in Frankfurt on the Oder from 1673 to 1717, which he acquired from his brother Friedreich on June 1, 1673 for 400 Thaler; Friedreich, in turn, had purchased the press for a like amount. Beckmann obtained a travel scholarship from the Brandenburg Elector and, during his travels in Europe came to Amsterdam. In 1663, in that city, Beckmann met Jewish students, the renowned R. Jacob Abendana (1630-85), and studied Talmud. In 1666, Beckmann returned to Frankfurt, where he obtained a position at the university (Viadrina), teaching there until his death in 1717 and serving as rector eight times. Because of the admission of Jewish students, the Viadrina became the “Amsterdam of the East,” both Hebrew and oriental studies being of importance.[11]
Beckmann was granted, initially, on May 1, 1675, a license to employ two Jewish workers, under the direct protection of the university, to print a Hebrew Bible, this despite of the protests of Frankfurt city. By 1693, however, Beckmann found that his responsibilities at the university left him with insufficient time to manage the press. Therefore, he contracted with Michael Gottschalk, a local bookbinder and book-dealer to manage the printing-house, transferring all of the typographical equipment and material to Gottschalk. Their arrangement was noted on the title-pages of the books issued by the press, which stated “with the letters of Lord Johann Christoph Beckmann, Doctor and Professor . . . at the press of Michael Gottschalk.” Gottschalk became the moving spirit of the press for almost four decades.
After printing several varied Hebrew titles Gottschalk approached Beckmann, requesting that he obtain permission to reprint the Talmud. Beckmann petitioned Friedreich III, Elector of Brandenburg (1657-1713, reigned 1688-1713, from 1701 King of Prussia), requesting a license to print the Talmud. Friedreich, in turn, sought the counsel of the Berlin professor Dr. Daniel Ernest Jablonski (1660-1741), from 1691, court preacher at Königsberg for the elector of Brandenburg, Friederick III. Jablonski, a Christian German theologian of Czech origin, an orientalist, had been associated with universities in Holland and England, settling in Lissa in 1686, and from there moving to Berlin. In 1700, Jablonski became a member of the Academy of Sciences in Berlin. Jablonski established a Hebrew press in Berlin, publishing a scholarly edition of the Hebrew Bible based on the Leusden edition (Amsterdam, 1667, Atthias) and a translation of Richard Bentley’s A Confutation of Atheism into Latin (Berlin, 1696). Jablonski, was to become personally involved with Hebrew printing in Berlin, and would be participate in the publishing of two later editions of the Talmud.
When a sponsor was sought for the Frankfurt on the Oder Talmud, Beckmann found one in the Court Jew Issachar (Ber Segal) ha-Levi Bermann (1661-1730) of Halberstadt, known as Bermann Halberstadt or, in his commercial dealings with the non-Jewish world, as Behrend Lehmann. It was Bermann who bore the cost of this Talmud, and whose name is associated with it. Selma Stern observes that Bermann was a pious and observant Jew throughout his life. He was held in high regard by his fellow Jews; and was described as “a second Joseph of Egypt” and “the chosen of the Lord, who warns him about the machinations of his enemies and miraculously rescues him when he is in dire straits.” Bermann was known among his people as “the founder of the Klaus in Halberstadt, the publisher of the Talmud, the man who defeated the first Prussian king at chess and who even in the glittering world of the Court never forgot Eternal Truth, corresponded to the ideal which Jews have had of their great men leaders.”[12]
Beckmann and Bermann entered into an agreement to publish the Talmud, Beckmann transferring his rights to Bermann, and the latter accepting responsibility for publishing the entire edition, making an initial payment of three hundred reichsthalers at the time of the agreement.[13] The printer was to be the Christian, Michael Gottschalk. Approximately half of the sets of this Talmud, known as the Berman Talmud, were distributed by Bermann to yeshivot and penurious scholars who could not otherwise have acquired a complete Talmud. Not only did he spend fifty thousand reichthalers of his own money to publish the Talmud, from which he apparently saw no financial gain, distributing copies to Talmudic students, but afterwards granted permission to the Amsterdam and Frankfurt on the Main printers to publish a complete Talmud, this in spite of the fact that he had approbations preventing republication of competitive editions.[14]
Fig. 2
Each volume of this Talmud has two title-pages. The first, a volume header page, has an engraved copper plate title-page (fig. 2) by the craftsman Martin Bernigeroth (1670-1733), Dt. Kupferstecher u. Zeichner (engraver and illustrator).[15] This initial title-page consists of an upright lamb with a pitcher on top of a portico. Below it, on the sides of the page, are Moses to the right and Aaron to the left. Beneath them, similarly situated, are King David with a harp, and King Solomon. Above each figure is that individuals’ name. Avraham Habermann and Avraham Yaari both write that the sheep and laver represent Bermann, who was a Levi. Yaari adds that the sheep further represents Bermann’s “mazel” or constellation, for Bermann was born on the 24th of Nissan (April 23), 1661, the astrological symbol for that month being a sheep.[16]
The second textual tractate title-page follows immediately after the volume title-page. The tractate title-pages are basically copied, with several modifications, from the Benveniste Talmud; but also includes some features characteristic of the Basel Talmud, which is supposed to be the source of this edition. The text concludes in Latin, informing that it is “in accordance with expurgations of the Council of Trent. . . .” and that it was printed in conformity with the Basle edition (1578 – 1581). Between the Hebrew and Latin text is Michael Gottschalk’s printer’s mark (fig. 3), which appears on the title-pages of this Talmud. It is a mirror-image monogram (cipher) of his name, the first usage of such a monogram in a Hebrew book.[17]

Fig. 3
Printed with this Talmud are approbations for the edition. When Johann Christoph Beckmann secured permission in 1695 from the Kaiser, Leopold, and from Friedreich Augustus, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, to print the Talmud, he was given not only authorization to print the Talmud, but was also granted the sole and exclusive right to do so for twelve years. Leading rabbinic figures, according to Rabbinovicz, issued restrictive approbations, the first instance in which such rabbinic licenses were granted. The rabbis who signed the approbations were R. Naftali ben Isaac ha-Kohen Katz, av bet din (head of the rabbinical court) of Pozna, R. Joseph Samuel of Cracow, av bet din of Frankfurt on the Main, R. David ben Abraham Oppenheim, av bet din of Nikolsburg, and R. Moses Judah ha Kohen and R. Jacob Sasportas of Amsterdam concurred in granting this monopoly, issuing approbations (hascomas) for twenty years.
These approbations were unlike those issued previously in Italy, which assured the authorities that nothing untoward or offensive to them was included in the book, or current approbations, which assure the reader that a work’s contents are in conformity with the community’s religious standards. The approbation issued for this Talmud, and to subsequent editions, was a license for a fixed number of years, prohibiting other publishers from printing competitive editions that would prevent the printer and his sponsor(s), who would otherwise be reluctant to make the substantial investment required to print the Talmud, from realizing a return on their investment.
Oppenheim refers to the burning of the Talmud and other Hebrew books in the Chnielnicki massacres tah ve-tat (1648–49), fires that resulted in the loss of many Hebrew books, resulting in a dire need for Talmudic tractates. Indeed, he writes that the entire Jewish educational system was endangered due to insufficient copies of the Talmud. He praises Lehmann, noting his benevolence in distributing half of the copies to needy students free of charge.[18] Towards the end of his long and flowery approbation Oppenheim forbids the printing of the Talmud by anyone without the permission of Issachar Bermann SG”L, from the day that printing commences until twenty years have elapsed from its completion. This prohibition is “whether for all or for part, even for one tractate only, whether for oneself or for others, and is not to be done by means of guile or ruse.” To enforce his decree R. Oppenheim states that “this decree falls equally upon the purchaser as well as the seller, for that which a rabbinic court declares ownerless is ownerless. Any [such tractate] found in a person’s possession without license, is to be taken forcibly, without payment or deed . . .”[20]
Similarly, R. Joseph Samuel of Cracow begins by praising Berman, noting that all realize that these many days many thought to print the Talmud due to its being unavailable, not to be found, except one to a city and two to a family. He notes, however, that although many wanted to print the Talmud it was to no avail, for it is a large project of much work and difficult to complete, until the Lord aroused the spirit of R. Berman of Halberstadt for the public benefit and the honor of the Torah, to print an entire Talmud on good paper, with fine ink, and diligent workers, well edited. Lest there be many who “bear gall and wormwood” (Deuteronomy 29:17) who also wish to print the Talmud and therefore cause great harm R. Berman’s interests, and “lock the door before him” (cf. Bekhorot 10b) who performs a great mitzvah to benefit the public, for “such is such theTorah, and such is its reward” (Berakhot 21b, Menahot 21b)? He therefore, concurs with the other leading rabbis to decree,
Excommunication and a ban on each and every person who should take it upon himself to print the Talmud in its entirety or in whole or in part without the agreement and knowledge of the noble R. Berman, except for a section needed to learn in yehivot, which is not included in the ban. It is permitted to print only that section and not a complete tractate in order to “magnify the Torah, and make it glorious” (Isaiah 42:21). A blessing should come upon he who hearkens to our words, may blessings of good come upon him and may he receive good from God Who is good. But “he who breaches through a fence, shall be bitten by a serpent” (Avodah Zara 27b) . . . and all the curses written in the Torah shall come upon him. . . .
Even before the privilege for this Talmud had expired the need for a new edition became apparent, numerous appeals being made to Issachar Bermann to republish the Talmud. Gottschalk, who had the rights granted to Beckmann, was also favorable to reprinting the Talmud. The Talmud had sold well and Gottschalk, as a result, had become a wealthy man.[20] Frederick William I of Prussia acceded to their request on May 23, and a new privilege, dated October 13, 1710, was granted to Gottschalk by Joseph I, successor to Leopold, in 1705, to print the Talmud and sell it throughout his domain, albeit with the customary restrictions and with the provision, as with all Hebrew books, that five copies be brought to the Imperial court. Similarly, on January 11, 1711, Frederick Augustus I (Augustus II), Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, also granted such a privilege. Nevertheless, these privileges were not immediately acted upon by Gottschalk and it would be several years before he printed the second of his three editions of the Talmud.[21]
III – Marches and de Palasios and Solomon Proops
Individual tractates were frequently published in Amsterdam, to address the continuing communal need for treatises for study purposes. The printers of these tractates include Moses Mendes Coutinho, Asher Anshel and Issachar Ber, Issac de Cordova, Joseph Dayyan and Moses Frankfurter, the latter two dayyanim (judges) of the Ashkenaz religious court. During the interval between the Benveniste and the Frankfurt on the Oder editions of the Talmud no complete Talmud had been printed. It must have appeared unseemly, however, that in Amsterdam, the center of Hebrew printing, with the greatest number of, and the largest, Hebrew printing-presses, that no Talmud edition had been issued for over six decades.
An attempt to correct this, even if that was not the printers’ primary intent, occurred during the interval between the first and second Frankfurt on the Oder editions of the Talmud. two independent editions of the Talmud were begun in Amsterdam in 1714. The first was published by the partners Samuel ben Solomon Marcheses and Raphael ben Joshua de Palasios, the second by Solomon Proops. Both publishers began to print in 1714; both editions are in attractive large folio format; the title-pages of both Talmuds have, as a printer’s device, copies of the Benveniste escutcheon (figs. 4, 5). Most importantly, neither Talmud edition was completed.
Except for a Sephardic rite prayer-book, printed by Samuel Marcheses at the press of Joseph Athias, neither partner, prominent members of the Amsterdam Sephardic community, had previously published any works. Their motivation in establishing a press was for the specific purpose of printing the Talmud. Furthermore, they intended to do so in such a manner as to produce an especially fine and accurate edition. The workers would not be hurried, so that they could work with care, reducing errors, supervised by R. Moses Frankfurter, who would help establish the correct text.[22] Marcheses and de Palasios did so under the influence of R. Judah Aryeh Loeb ben Joseph Samuel Schotten ha-Kohen (1644-1719), av bet din of Frankfurt on the Main, and his father-in-law R. Samuel Settin of Frankfurt n Main. Judah Aryeh Loeb had previously attempted to have a Talmud printed in Frankfurt in 1710 but, due to the prior approbations granted to the Frankfurt on the Oder Talmud his efforts were to no avail, and he was unable to get authorization from the emperor to print the Talmud. In 1713, Judah Aryeh Loeb explored the possibility of obtaining permission to print in Frankfurt from the Kaiser in Vienna, but did not even receive a response to his inquiries. Judah Aryeh Loeb next turned to Amsterdam where, with the assistance of his father-in-law and the agreement of R. Issachar (Ber Segal) ha-Levi Bermann who had the prior approbation he commenced to print the Talmud.[23] Subsequently Samuel Settin arranged for Samuel Marches and Joshua de Palasios to undertake this venture, arranging for R. Zvi Hirsh of Sharbishin, at the time a resident of Amsterdam, to visit various Jewish communities, seeking subscribers to defray the cost of publication.[24]
Printing began with tractate Berakhot in 1714; the following tractates are recorded by Rabbinovicz as having been printed: 1715 – Shabbat and Seder Zera’im: 1716 – EruvinPesahimHagigahMo’ed KatanYomaShekalimMegillah, and Ketubbot: 1717 – BezahRosh Ha-ShanahSukkahTa’anit, and Yevamot.[25] Printing was discontinued in 1717 due to the approbations issued to the Frankfurt on the Oder printer for the Berman Talmud.
The approbations for this edition appear in tractate Shabbat. They are from R. Solomon ben Jacob Ayllon, R. Gabriel ben Judah Loeb of Cracow, R. Samuel ben Joseph Schotten ha-Kohen, R. Baruch ben Moses Meir Rappaport, R. Ezekiel ben Abraham of the house of Katzenellenbogen, R. Menahem Mendel Ashkenazi, R. Isaac Aaron ben Joseph Israel of Metz, and R. Phineas ben Simeon Wolff Auerbach of Cracow. The approbation of R. Menahem Mendel Ashkenazi, at the time Landesrabbiner in Bamberg and Baiersdorf, subjected anyone who violated the copyright to excommunication, placing a
ban, and anathema, and death on anyone who would reprint the Talmud during twenty years from the completion of this edition without the knowledge or permission of the above [Judah Aryeh Loeb] in any manner, whether in its entirety or in part, even a single tractate, excepting a section needed for learning in the yeshivot according to the requirements of the times, whether by himself or by his agent or his agent’s agent, directly or indirectly, whether a member of his household or not a member of his household . . . and he who heeds our words shall be blessed . . .
Marcheses and de Palasios acknowledge the existence of the prior restrictive approbation for the Berman Talmud on the title-pages of their tractates, which note that most of its benefits can be attributed to the Talmud of R. Issachar Bermann of Halberstadt, and also state
[And even though] most of the qualities to be found in this Talmud were acceded to me by the noble, the eminent, the distinguished R. Issachar Bermann Segal of Halberstadt even though the time restricting publication established by the geonim of the land for the above noble (Berman) for printing his Talmud has not yet elapsed. An palanquin to the above eminent noble for this. Now “My eyes and my heart are always toward the Lord” (cf. Psalms 25:15) . . .

Fig. 4. 1714, Berakhot, Marches and de Palasios 

Fig. 5. 1714, Berakhot, Solomon Proops
In the same year, 1714, that Berakhot was published a second Talmud was begun in Amsterdam. The publisher of that edition was Solomon ben Joseph Proops, then a book dealer, Maecenas to numerous Amsterdam publishers, and the founder of the famous Proops press. He had been a book-dealer and financed and partnered in a number of works published at other presses before establishing his own press in 1704. The printing-house founded by Solomon Proops would become one of the most illustrious in the history of Amsterdam Hebrew printing. It issued, almost simultaneously with the Marches and de Palasios edition, a copy of Berakhot with Seder Zera’im, possibly followed by Bezah.
Proops was unable to continue with his proposed Talmud edition, publishing one (two) volume(s) only. Judah Aryeh Loeb, relying on the approbations given his Talmud prior to the Proops edition, objected to the publication of a rival Talmud, and brought the matter before a rabbinic court. The court’s enjoined Proops from printing additional tractates, and trespassing on Judah Aryeh Loeb’s rights as a printer. To avoid further difficulties of this sort, Marques and de Palasios secured approbations from leading rabbinic authorities for their Talmud, prohibiting other printers from publishing a Talmud.
Rabbinovicz observes that Proop’s defense, that he was unaware that Samuel Marches and Joshua de Palasios were already engaged in the publication of the Talmud, was untenable. Proops had to know that R. Judah Aryeh Loeb was publishing tractates in Amsterdam. Proops might argue that he had begun Berakhot prior to the other press, was unaware of their approbations, and having begun, should be allowed to complete his work.
This was not the last law suit concerning the Talmud that Judah Aryeh Loeb had to contest. Although we can sympathize with Judah Aryeh Leib’s difficulties with Solomon Proops, there is a certain poetic justice to his situation, for just as he protested the Proops Talmud in Amsterdam, so too did he face objections from the Frankfurt on the Oder printer. As noted above, Michael Gottschalk, the Berlin and Frankfurt on the Oder printer, who had printed his first Talmud (1697-99) and would subsequently print two additional two editions of the Talmud (1715-22, 1734-39), brought a suit to force Judah Aryeh Loeb and the partners to cease printing their Talmud. In addition to his prior approbations Gottschalk claimed that he had obtained the sole authorization to print his second Talmud, again for twenty years, from Kaiser Joseph I of Germany in 1710, King Frederick Augusta of Poland and Saxony in 1711, Kaiser Karl VI and King Frederick Wilheim in 1715. Gottschalk filed his complaint in mid-1717.
Rabbinovicz writes that he does not know why Gottschalk waited so long to exercise his rights to stop the printing of this edition. Gottschalk had obtained royal permission, as well as rabbinic approbations, as early as 1715. Instead, he permitted Judah Aryeh Loeb to print a number of tractates over a period of several years before he acted. According to Friedberg, in that year, Samuel Schotten took tractates from the Amsterdam Talmud to the book fair in Lippsia (Leipzig).
There were several book fairs of importance in Germany, among the most important being those of Frankfurt on the Main from as early as 1240 and the Leipzig (Lippsia) fair, which predates it, from 1170. Both locations were centers of the printing industry, Frankfurt midway between north and south, Lippsia in the north. Although Frankfurt initially overshadow Leipzig, it later “was forced to yield to the Saxon city. . . . which became . . . the centre of German book publishing.” Leipzig’s importance can be further credited, “not in its number of presses but in its number of shops, its number of book dealers, and publishing houses.” Furthermore, although many German cities had book fairs, “Leipzig was one of the most important fairs eastern and south Eastern Europe and soon utilized the advantage of her connections for the development of the book trade.”[26] It is not surprising then, that Moses Schotten, the son of Samuel Schotten, attended the book fair.[27]
Returning to Friedberg’s account of events, Moses Schotten attended the Leipzig book fair, bringing samples of the tractates printed in Amsterdam. Gottschalk “waited for him and then ambushed him in secret.” Immediately after Schotten arrived in Leipzig Gottschalk contacted the fair officials, that the tractates brought by Schotten should be confiscated. The fair officials did not act, however, instead awaiting instructions from the prince of the district capital, Dresden, who delayed until the conclusion of the fair. In the interim, Schotten was able to sell the tractates that he had brought without hindrance.
Gottschalk returned home, bitter, and submitted a complaint on January 3, 1716 to the king. In it Gottschalk related what had occurred at the fair and petitioned the king for recourse against those who had trampled “with their feet” on his legal rights. The king responded to affirmatively to Gottschalk on February 12, 1716, prohibiting the sale of the Talmud at the fair by anyone except Gottschalk. Several additional tractates were printed in Amsterdam and Schotten returned, in October 3, 1717, to the fair. Gottschalk, when he became aware of this, informed the officials of their obligations and this occasion all the books (tractates) that Schotten brought with him were seized. Moses Schotten justified his actions, stating that he had come only as an agent of his father, Samuel Schotten, from Frankfurt on the Main. If the fair officials had complaints they should bring them to that city. Although Gottschalk was successful in preventing the sale at the fair and the further publication of tractates from this Talmud in Amsterdam ceased in 1717, his victory was short lived. Soon after Judah Aryeh Loeb was able to resume printing in Frankfurt on the Main, publishing a fine and complete Talmud.[28]
III
Frankfurt on the Main Talmud
Printing was relatively late in coming to Frankfurt on the Main, partly due to its proximity to Mainz, an early center of printing. The first Frankfurt printer was Beatus Murner, who printed nine books in 1511-12. Among those nine titles are the first books printed in Frankfurt with Hebrew letters, a 1512 editions of a Birkat ha-Mazon Benedicite Judeorum’ (Hebrew in woodcut) and Hukat ha-Pesach Ritus et celebrate phase judeorum’ by Beatus Murner’s better known brother, Thomas Murner, a Maronite brother and enemy of Martin Luther.
The printing of a significant number of Hebrew books begins in the last decades of the seventeenth century, in about 1675. Four hundred ninety titles, albeit some questionable, are ascribed to Frankfurt in the hundred-year period from 1640 to 1739.[29] Johann Koelner (1708–28), who published a complete Talmud (1720-22) is credited with more than one hundred titles, although that number includes each of the tractates in his edition of the Talmud.[30] This Talmud was initially the completion of the Talmud begun in Amsterdam in 1714 by R. Judah Aryeh Loeb together with Samuel Marches and Joshua de Palasios interrupted by the suit, based on approbations for his edition, brought by Michael Gottschalk
Judah Aryeh Loeb now attempted, successfully, to complete the Talmud he had begun in Amsterdam in Frankfurt on the Main. Given that Gottschalk, based on the approbations he had received for his second Talmud, was able to prevent publication of Judah Aryeh Loeb’s Talmud in Amsterdam, only three years earlier, how was Judah Aryeh Loeb able to publish a complete Talmud only three years later in Frankfurt? Friedberg writes, tersely, that “the eminent, the prominent R. Samson Wertheimer from Vilna, court Jew of Karl VI, influenced him to give Aryeh Loeb ben Joseph Samuel av bet din Frankfurt on the Main authorization to print a new edition of the Talmud. The sovereign acceded to his request and authorized publication of the Talmud in Frankfurt from 1720.”[31] Rabbinovicz remarks that the interruption in the work on the Amsterdam edition and the ensuing great expense, as well as the bribes in the courts until Aryeh Leib succeeded, left him in reduced financial condition, until Samson Wertheimer, became involved, making it possible to continue and publish this fine edition.[32]

Fig. 6
Approbations were also published with this Talmud, primarily reprints from the Amsterdam edition and with one new approbation, from R. Jacob ben Benjamin Katz (Poppers, Shav Ya’akov) (1719). Another example of the continuity of the two editions is that the volumes issued in both cities are alike, the title pages showing minor textual variations only, such as the new place of publication, and on some but not all of the Frankfurt tractates, the inclusion of accompanying Latin text, confirming that it was printed in accordance with the text of the censor Marco Marino (Basle Talmud, 1578-81) and variations of the printer’s mark. Whereas the treatises printed in Amsterdam have a new woodcut of the Benveniste printer’s mark, the Frankfurt volumes, although retaining the outer crest with helmet, replace the lion and tower with the double headed eagle of the Hapsburgs (fig. 6).
Printing began in Frankfurt on the Main in 1720 with tractate Kiddushin, it having been anticipated that they would be allowed to bring the tractates printed previously in Amsterdam to Frankfurt. However, this was not permitted, so that they began to print the remainder of the Talmud, beginning with Berakhot completing the Talmud until Kiddushin that year, except for Seder Zera’im and tractate Ta’anit which were printed in 1722. Another possibility, suggested by Rabbinovicz, is that they were allowed to publicly sell the tractates printed in Amsterdam in Germany, but the market for the tractates printed in Frankfurt exceeded expectations, so that, to complete sets of the Talmud it was necessary to reprint those tractates printed earlier in Amsterdam.[33]
IV Aftermath
The next controversy over rival editions of the Talmud occurred with the second printing of the Talmud by the Proops’ press in 1752 – 1765. This edition, published by Solomon Proop’s sons, Joseph, Jacob, and Abraham, is a large, very fine folio edition. Publication was interrupted for several reasons, but primarily due to the publication of rival editions of the Talmud in Sulzbach by Meshullam Zalman Frankel and afterwards by his sons, Aaron and Naphtali, that is, the Sulzbach Red (1755-63) and the Sulzbach Black (1766-70). The first Sulzbach Talmud is known as Sulzbach red because the first title-page in the volume was printed with red ink, in contrast to Sulzbach black, in which the first title-page in the volume is printed entirely in black ink. Both the red and the black are smaller folio and not highly regarded.
Resolution of the dispute between the two publishing houses was settled by a rabbinic court that determined, among its findings, that despite Proops’ prior approbations the Sulzbach printer did not have to desist from publishing, for the Sulzbach Talmud was less expensive and therefore available to individuals who could not afford the larger and finer Amsterdam Talmud, the latter marketed to a more affluent market.
One other dispute of significance, that embroiled leading rabbis in Europe, was over the rival editions of the Talmud printed by the Shapira press in Slavuta and the Romm press in Vilna of their respective editions of the Talmud in 1835. Both the Amsterdam-Sulzbach and Slavuta-Vilna disputes are beyond the scope of this article. However, they, as well as the controversy surrounding the Frankfurt on the Oder and Amsterdam editions of the Talmud, the subject of this article, confirm Raphael Natan Nuta Rabbinovicz’s observation as to the negative and disruptive results of restrictive approbations.
Even though the intent in granting approbations was for the good of the community, to insure investors a reasonable return on their investment, the result, as noted above, was detrimental. The Talmud was printed only eight times in the century from 1697 to 1797, and the price of a set of the Talmud was dear. Prior to that the Talmud had been printed several times in Italy and Poland within a relatively short period of time, the primary impediment then being the opposition of the Church and local authorities. After 1797 the use of restrictive approbations declined, with the consequence that within four decades the Talmud was printed nine times, this notwithstanding the Slavuta-Vilna rivalry. Given these controversies and their negative outcomes, perhaps a better course for all would have been to apply Hillel’s admonition in Avot.
Be of the disciples of Aaron, loving peace and pursuing peace.
(Avot 1:12)
[1] L. Fuks and R. G. FuksMansfeld, Hebrew Typography in the Northern Netherlands 1585-1815, (Leiden, 1984-87), I pp. 45-48, II pp. 237-40, 297.
[2] Raphael Natan Nuta Rabbinovicz, Ma’amar al Hadpasat ha-Talmud with Additions, ed. A. M. Habermann pp. 100, 155-56 (Jerusalem, 1952) [Hebrew].
[3] H. I. Bloom, The Economic Activities of the Jews of Amsterdam (Port Washington, 1969), p. 45.
[4] Concerning individual tractates not printed as part of a Talmud in this period see Marvin J. Heller, Printing the Talmud: A History of the Individual Treatises Printed from 1700 to 1750 (Leiden, 1999).
[5] The Benveniste family, distinguished and widespread in Spain and Provence, is mentioned as early as 1079 in documents from Barcelona. After the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492 the family was widely dispersed, but primarily throughout the Ottoman Empire where many eminent rabbis were named Benvensite. (“Benveniste,” Encyclopaedia Judaica. Ed. Michael Berenbaum and Fred Skolnik. 2nd ed. Vol. 3 (Detroit, 2007. 382. Gale Virtual Reference Library. Web. 4 Jan. 2012).
[6] A. M. Habermann, The History of the Hebrew Book. From Marks to Letters; From Scroll to Book (Jerusalem, 1968), p. 155 [Hebrew].
[7] In addition to the well-known commercial edition, there was also a deluxe edition, measuring 310 x 225 mm. This was brought to my attention by of Daniel Kestenbaum of Kestenbaum and Company.
[8] Concerning the widespread use of the Benveniste device see my “The Printer’s Mark of Immanuel Benveniste and its Later Influence,” Studies in Bibliography and Booklore XVIII (Cincinnati, 1993), pp. 3-14, reprinted in Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book (Brill, Leiden/Boston, 2008), pp. 54-71. Parenthetically, among the first to employ the Benveniste escutcheon on a tractate title-page was the press of Asher Anshel ben Eliezer Chazzen and Issachar Ber ben Abraham Eliezer of Minden in their edition of Bava Batra (1702). Their other tractate, Bava Mezia (1699) does not have the Benveniste escutcheon.
[9] Rabbinovicz, pp. 95-6.
[10] Rabbinovicz, p. 129 no. 1. Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, Amudim be-Toldot ha-Sefer ha-Ivri: Hagahot u-Megihim (Ramat-Gan, 1996), pp. 404-05 [Hebrew] adds that the Vilna Gaon learned from and made annotations on the Berlin – Frankfurt on the Oder Talmud of 1715-23. 
[12] Selma Stern, The Court Jew. A Contribution to the History of Absolutism in Central Europe (Philadelphia, 1950), pp. 55-59.
[13] Friedberg. History of Hebrew Typography of the following Cities in Central Europe: Altona, Augsberg, Berlin, Cologne, Frankfort M., Frankfort O., Fürth, Hamberg, Hanau, Heddernheim, Homberg, Ichenhausen, Neuwied, Wandsbeck, and Wilhermsdorf. Offenbach, Prague, Sulzbach, Thannhausen from its beginning in the year 1513 (Antwerp, 1935), p. 37 [Hebrew].
[14] Manfred R. Lehmann, “Behrend Lehmann: The King of the Court Jews” In: Sages and Saints, ed. Leo Jung (Hoboken, 1987), p. 205; Ya’akov Loyfer, Mi-Shontsino ve-ad Ṿilna (Jerusalem: ha-Modia, 2012), p. 139 [Hebrew].
[15] A highly regarded engraver, Martin Bernigeroth is known to have done as many as 1600 engravings, many portraits. His sons, John Martin (1713-1767) and Johann Benedict (1716-1764), were also worked noted engravers. Concerning the former see, Joseph Strutt, A Biographical Dictionary, containing an historical account of all the engravers, from the earliest period of the art of engraving to the present time, and a short list of their most esteemed works . . . I (London, 1785), p. 88.
[16] Avraham Habermann, Title Pages of Hebrew Books, (Tel Aviv, 1969), pp. 63, 130 no. 47 [Hebrew]; Yaari, Printers’ Marks, pp. 49, 152 no. 78.
[17] Avraham Yaari, Hebrew Printers’ Marks (Jerusalem, 1943), pp. 50, 152 no. 79 [Hebrew]; Marvin J. Heller, “Mirror-image Monograms as Printers’ Devices on the Title Pages of Hebrew Books Printed in the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries,” Printing History 40. Rochester, N. Y., 2000, pp. 2-11, reprinted in Studies, pp. 36-38, 363, figs. 21-23.
[18]  Menahem Schmelzer, “Hebrew Printing and Publishing in Germany, 1650-1750,” in Leo Baeck Institute Year Book XXXIII (London, Jerusalem, New York, 1988), p. 375.
[19] “That which a rabbinic court declares ownerless is ownerless’ is discussed in Yevamot 89b, Gittin 36b and Jerusalem Talmud Shekalim 3a. The source for this concept is Ezra 10:8 “And anyone who will not come within three days, as according to the counsel of the princes and the elders, all his property will be forfeited and he will be separated from the congregation of the captivity.”
[20] Institut für angewandte Geschichte – Gessellschaft und Wissenschaft im Dialog e. V. http://www.juedischesfrankfurtvirtuell.de/en/en_C.php
[21] Friedberg, Central Europe, pp. 40-41; William Popper, The Censorship of Hebrew Books (New York, 1899, reprint New York: Burt Franklin, 1968), pp. 111-12.
[22] Ch. B. Friedberg, History of Hebrew Typography of the following Cities in Europe: Amsterdam, Antwerp, Avignon, Basle, Carlsruhe, Cleve, Coethen, Constance, Dessau, Deyhernfurt, Halle, Isny, Jessnitz, Leyden, London, Metz, Strasbourg, Thiengen, Vienna, Zurich. From its beginning in the year 1516, (Antwerp, 1937), p. 43[Hebrew].
[23] Friedberg, Central Europe, pp 44-45; William Popper, The Censorship of Hebrew Books (New York, 1899, reprint New York: Burt Franklin, 1968), p. 115.
[24] Friedberg, Amsterdam, p. 43.
[25] Rabbinovicz, p. 101.
[26] James Westfall Thompson, The Frankfort Book Fair. The Francofordiense Emporium of Henri Estiene: Edited with Historical Introduction Original Latin Text with English Translation on Opposite Pages and Notes (Chicago, 1911, republished New York, 1968), pp. 10-11, 15, 42.
[27] Jewish attendance at book fairs appears to have been common place. It was at the Frankfurt on the Main book fair in 1577 that Ambrosius Froben met R. Simon Guenzburg (Simon zur Gemze) of Frankfurt, a meeting that eventually culminated in the Basle Talmud (1578-81). Concerning this see my Printing the Talmud: A History of the Earliest Printed Editions of the Talmud (Brooklyn, 1992), p. 244-45.
[28] Friedberg, Central Europe, p. 46.
[29] Yeshayahu Vinograd, Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book. Listing of Books Printed in Hebrew Letters Since the Beginning of Printing circa 1469 through 1863 II (Jerusalem, 1993-95), pp. 579-90 [Hebrew].
[30] Vinograd, I p. 459.
[31] Friedberg, Central Europe, p. 67.
[32] Rabbinovicz, p. 111.
[33] Rabbinovicz, pp. 109-10.



Augsburg and its Printers

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

Chaim Meiselman catalogs rare books for the Joseph Meyerhoff Collection, originally at Baltimore Hebrew Institute, now at Towson University. He is a bibliophile and intermittently a book dealer. This is his first contribution to the Seforim Blog.

Last summer, I was at Yale University for a conference. Those who have spent time at Yale University will know that their libraries are separated by major subject, and therefore are situated in different buildings. While I was spending a good amount of the time at the Beinecke Rare Book & Manuscript Library for material covering manuscripts, I was able to use downtime for perusing their Rare Book Collection.
This library is a breathtaking edifice erected for books. For those who haven’t had the opportunity to visit it, I highly recommend going, even for a non-research purpose. The reason why I recommend it is because one can see a modern-day example of something which used to be more common during the previous centuries – a temple dedicated to literary craft. As is with many commercial buildings built during the last century, libraries have evolved into storage containers of some kind; this building is built exhibiting manuscripts and books in rich light. Six of the seven stories of volumes are visible from the balcony, where they exhibit items and one can tour the inside.
Here is a picture of the vantage from the inside.
Among their collection of hebrew books is a copy of the very rare imprint of the Machzor ke-seder ha-Ashkenazim, the volume of Machzor printed in Augsburg in 1536 by Haim “ha-mehokek” b. David Shahor (see here). This is a rare and revolutionary title for a number of reasons, some of which I’ll write here.
While I own a facsimile of the Shahor volume, I’ve never before held it in hand. It is about the size of a large size Mechon Yerushalayim Tur, thinner though. The pages were darkened by light exposure but the type was still fresh. More below on his imprint of Tefillos.
The first question (which is relevent to what discovery i will share here) is – who is Haim Shahor. Hayyim b. David Shahor was among the earliest printers of Hebrew books north of the Alps; born in the late 15th century, likely in Ashkenaz, he was involved earlier in Hebrew print than Bomberg and Giustiani, and earlier than Bak, Prosstitz, and Jaffe in ‘Ashkenaz’. He is documented as having printed in tiny hamlets earlier than 1535 – Heddernheim, Oels (Schliesen), yet more famously Augsburg.
Augsburg was where Shahor printed his Siddur, his Machzor, and his Turim. Comparably few copies were created; for every Augsburg volume, Moritz Steinschneider (CLHB) writes “fol. Rara” or “ed. Rara”. Libraries which contain volumes of Hebrew Incunabula often don’t contain a print of Shahor, certainly not an Augsburg volume – they are extremely scarce.
There have been claims that Shahor may have been a Christian printer disguising himself as a Jew. These are very unlikely, and probably aren’t true; in one of the Augsburg printings, a long Tefillah and colophon puts this claim in doubt.
I am pasting copies of the one scanned on Hebrewbooks.org. However, this scan is extremely low resolution, even for HB. If there is a high resolution scan done of the volume, one will be able to see the precise and sharp magnificence of this font, almost like that of Ketav Ashurit. This is an adaptation of the Ashkenazic script from manuscripts centuries older, and it carries that appearance somewhat.

As I see it, it is highly unlikely that this was a Christian family printing – Yosef b. Yakar writes to his brother in law, Ya’akov b. Baruch that he has emended the printing format of the Luach ha-Simanim (in which the Mare’h ha-Mekomot are brief and added are a longer Luach preceding each of the Seder ha-Turim). Many of the examples of the “Luach Gadol” in this Tur no longer exist, making full examples of these even more rare – but they were written in heavy “Rashi script” – and if they aren’t the first tables of contents in printed Hebrew Books, they are almost certainly are the most lengthy and encompassing.
Briefly referenced is a disagreement (regarding this format) with Avraham of Prague, who is a noted editor on the other Augsburg volumes (and selected other Shahor printings).
I will quote a passage from this here: אמנם ראה ידידי … כי לא שמעתי לקולך להדפיס בספר הזה כל אותם ההגהות הארוכים אשר חידש בהם הרב הנ”ל … וכמעט אומר שרוב ההוגותיו “מכלכלים” (מקלקלים) על התלמידים בו … וכן הסכימו עמי. Below, he details exactly what the differences were, and he immediately offers words of thanks for being able to put out this edition, the first Tur to be printed in Ashkenaz, but one which is “without defects”: על כל שבח תהלה והוראה. שהחיינו וקיימנו לזאת השעה. להשלים הטורים ארבעה. אשר אין בו מאומה רעה. It is clear that the novelty of the printed Turim is paramount in the thought of the printers, however what is mentioned and repeated is לחדד התלמידים, כדי שלא יקלקלו התלמידים, and such scripts on the idea of studying the Tur and teaching it to students. This theme isn’t one of Christian influence, especially being that there already was a debate on the proper methods of studying Halacha raging at the time – this language feeds to this writing. Although it was at this time of a smaller scale (because of the not-yet published Bet Yosef and Shulchan Arukh and the later writings on the subject of Rama, Maharal, Maharshal, and R. Yoel Sirkis), the statement completing the enormous printing process was like the one above is directly showing a Rabbinic influence, not a Christian one.
After the letter of Yosef b. Yakar, Shahor writes a “Shevach Tehilla” for finishing the volume. He repeats this theme: בחור תראה | הן תשתאה | ספר נאה | בהדורים |רבה הון מה | לך תתהמה | פן יהיו מה | הד נמכרים … ישמח יסגא | כל בם הוגה | כי ממשגה | הם נשמרים | קונים מהם | יהגו בהם | הם ובניהם | עד דוד דודים | As before, I see it that this is related to the theme of the debate of the proper methods to learn Halacha, and not to neglect the study of Gemara (as it had been in Ashkenaz at the time, according to some accounts.)
Another reason it is highly doubtful that Shahor was a crypto-christian was that his granddaughter married the printer Kalonymus Jaffe, famously as printer (including the printing of the Shas and the Turim) in Lublin. He was the first cousin to R. Mordechai Yaffe, known as the Ba’al ha-Levush; his father Mordechai printed the first copies of the Levushim. This is another hint that Shahor was from a learned Jewish background, not that of a Christian printer. As is documented, from Shahor’s family descended generations of printers in Prague, Krakow, and other centers of printing in Central Europe. See Marvin J. Heller, Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book, pg. 149-151.
In the entry for the Encyclopedia of Hebrew Language and Linguistics (Brill, 2013) title “Hebrew Printing” by Brad Sabin-Hill, it is recorded that Shahor was working among presses owned by Christian humanists; this is likely, in the light of what I will record below.
Leaf 7, the opening leaf of the text of the Tur, is supposedly illustrated by Hans Holbein the Younger (1497-1543), an important late-Renaissance artist originally from Augsburg. I’m not certain where this information is from. Here is the catalog entry from the Selected Catalog of the Valmadonna Trust Selections, which sold at Kestenbaum’s on November 9th.
Back to the Mahzor. Among the differences this Mahzor has with the other editions, one that should be noticeable (as relating to the editor and printer) is the self-censorship of a Piyyut. For the Yom Kippur Piyyutim recited during Shacharit, a Piyyut is supplicated in after אדיר אדירנו. Even though in the Mahzor it is recorded after ובכן יתקדש … ועל מכונך והיכלך, it follows the heading האדיר, and opens another acrostic lines into the Piyyut מי אדיר אפסיך – perhaps this is because of the re-use of the text block for the repeating paragraphs of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur davening.
This is how it appears:
For the Piyyut headed by האדיר, an acrostic begins using Jer. 10:7, מי לא ייראך מלך הגויים, כי לך יאתה: כי בכל-חכמי הגויים ובכל-מלכותם, מאין כמוך. In that Piyyut, there is a portion which was censored in virtually every text. However, the Augsburg Mahzor self-censors three blocks, which would’ve likely been offensive in the eyes of the Church. Although it is possible that he did it out of consideration not to offend the Humanists who had granted him the rights to print (if it is true that this was the case for this printing), it is entirely plausible that he wanted the text to be supplemented by a scribe and didn’t want the internal work of a censor to be involved (both at the time of print and the future viewers).
This is how they look:

Back to the copy at Yale. In the copy I was holding, I saw that it was inscribed with the missing pieces.
There was a scribe who wrote in the margins, crossed through printing mistakes, and marked pieces which would be relevant to a Shaliach Tsibbur. Examples of פזמון, קהל, בניגון, and a type of cantillation abound in the volume by his hand. At the end, he signs his name as ‘Shelomoh b. Ya’akov halevi’ .
The script appears to me to be from the time the volume was printed. It utilizes flourishes and specific criteria of script that I recognize from the hands of (and from the time of) R. Yoel Sirkis, R. David Halevi (Ta”z), and other handwriting of the era.
The themes of the Piyyutim with the inscription additions are now complete, as you can see with my writing below. The paragraphs, especially the second one, are very harsh in their ‘attack’.
First, I will paste photos of the pages:

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

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

Paragraph one:
הגוים

אפס ותהו נגדך חשובים: בחוניך בדודים לעם לא נחשבים: הגוים גדילים מעשיהו תעתוע והבלים

דבקיך בדולים מסגרי מסגודי לעץ בולים: הגוים הכין פסל מבקשים חרשים: ותיקיך בשהכים והערב [ייחודיך
פורשים: הגוים זהבם לאפדת מסכה מכינים: חרדי דבריך לעבדיך ליראה מוכנים: הגוים]
[שועגים טוענים בכתף יתר כליתם: ידועיך כורעים לך בפיקוק חליותם: הגוים כסף מצפים עץ  מסגריהם]– פסלם
לקחיך בחביון עזך ישימו כסלם: בגוים מכנים קדשתך לעול הזימה: נשואיך משקצים ייחוס ע[רוה]-
וזמה אשת הזמה : הגוים סמל תמונת נאלח מאליהים: עמך מעידים אדנותך אלהי האלהים: הגוים
פגר מובס בחנות פחזות תכליתם צבאך קדוש אתה יושב תהלותם: הגוים קוראים ללא מושיע ומוע—יל
רעך נשענים בך מלמד להועיל : הגוים שקר נכסם לא אמון תמימיך אומן אמונתיך בועד(ם)
ינעמון

ובכן מי לא ייראך מלך הגוים וכו

Paragraph two:

יאתה כי בכל חכמי הגוים הגוים-אמים (זמזומים)
קדר לאדומים. ואדומים
בלעם קלעים גמומים דמומים. הגוים גומר ומגוג אשכנז ורומים. דכאם הכאם זעומים
למוחרמים הגוים הגרים כעורים טורים קטורים לודים ואראמיים. ייכחם וכחם שכחם מתחת רמים. הגוים
זרם נחת מקיצים מזים ושמים. חמסם כרסמם שימם שוממים. הגוים טבח ליתר ראומים. ייסרם
סדם הסירם מהיות אומים. הגוים כפתורים כסלוחים כפלתחים לטושים לאומים . לפתם כפתם
צערם סעורים רעועים. הגוים מבשם ואדבאל משמעים ודומים. נפצם הפילם הפיצם שיתם
הדווחים הדמים. הגוים סבא וחבילה סבתכא ורעמים. ישרם עקרם קרקרם דומים דוויים נמומים. הגוים
פלשת אמון אשור בין אשור לעילמים
צמתם המיתם תנם ייתם למהלומים
—– (לירדם)
קיר ומואב לודים וענמים רטשם נטשם דקים צנומים
שישך ומדי כמים ולב-קמים תעבם העיבם לאין תקומים
זקשם —- לדמים. חכים ששך למדי כיתים ולב רשעים. תבעם תעיבם לאין

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

Paragraph three:
ובכן מי לא יראך מלך הגוים כי לך יאתה
כי ככל חכמי הגוים ובכל מלכותם
מלכותם באבדך עבדי ניטנים פסילי נסכים: תוכן מלכותם תיכון מלכותך מלך מלכי המלכים
מלכותם [בבלעך] בוטחי הבל תעתועים: שמים לארך שבחך יהוי אביעים
מלכותם בצרעך בגדעך מקימי אשירים לחמנים: רומותיך יקראו בגרון המונים המונים
מלכותם בדכאך דורשי קטב תהו ובעלים: קדושה ועוז תיסד כמפי עוללים?
מלכותם בהרסך המתהללים באללילים : צדקתך באיים יגידו באיים אל אלים
מלכותם בווכיך המטהרים והמקדישים: פאר מלוכה ינחלו ככוכבי נטעי כנת קדושים
מלכותם בזעמך שטי כזב פוני אל רהבים: גלו עלוי כבוד שמך יתנו כל באהבים
מלכותם כחסדך בחשפך סוגרי מעשה חדשים: סיפור מעשיך ברינה יפצחו מארישים
מלכותם בטחטאח שועגי טועני עצבים עשוים ברקים ברקים פרקים : וינעם דינו דע יראתך יתממון יתמאלון זורקים
מלכותם בידך כורעי נסבל אשא לעייפה: משתחוים כל בשר לפניך עושה שחר עיפה
מלכותם בכעותך בכלותיך  לנער רשעים מארץ: לכן יכוממו במלכו רשמי —-
ישמחו השמים ותגל הארץ
ובכן מי לא יראך וגומר
I wrote down the notes in my facsimile copy of the Mahzor with a fountain pen using these transcriptions. This part of the Piyyut will survive.

I saw that the Artscroll Mahzor published a heavily censored element of the first paragraph in the back of the book, with the remaining Piyyutim (which avoids translating it into English, although it had been censored far too much to have posed a problem for them.) It appears truncated, because the other paragraphs of the Piyyut are consistently as long as the above quoted. For example, they write for stanza Daled : דבקיך דבוקים באלהים חיים, which poses grammatical and stylistic problems (eg. no other stanza is four words, it should’ve written דבוקיך, etc.) The stanza above reads: הגוים גדילים מעשיהו תעתוע דבקיך בדולים מסגרי לעץ בולים, which follows the ebb-and-flow, הגוים, and מי לא ייראך.
I also saw in the recently printed Mahzor h-Gra the same few stanzas as Artscroll are published, but also with confusions and clearly censored items.
Finally, this Mahzor contains an interesting addition to another Piyyut, that of היום תאמצינו. In this Mahzor, another stanza is added: היום תדרש דם עבדיך השפוך.
I conclude that among the treasures that have been found, that we find (or are waiting to be discovered) the history awaits in the elements that were in the full view of the public (Jewish and Christian alike) and the censored items, which wait to be discovered and to live new life.