The Meaning of the Word Eduyos in מסכת עדיות

David S Farkas

Mr. Farkas received his rabbinic ordination from Ner Israel Rabbinical College in 1999. He lives with his family in Cleveland, Ohio, where he serves as Senior Corporate Counsel for one of the largest energy distribution companies in the United States.

Masechet Eduyos is a unique volume of the Talmud. It is the only halachic tractate not confined to a single defined area of law. It is, rather, a collection of Mishnayos on diverse topics, some of which appear elsewhere throughout the six orders of the Mishna and the Gemara. It is also, along with Avos, the only volume in Seder Nezikin with no Gemara, neither Bavli nor Yerushalmi.[1]

What exactly does the word Eduyos mean? Two traditional explanations have been offered, one significantly older than the other. Both explanations are not without difficulties. In this brief note I propose, with all appropriate caution and respect, a new explanation – a חדוש that, to my knowledge, has never before been suggested.

The classical explanation is stated by the Rambam in his Introduction to the Mishna, as follows:[2]

ורוב עניין זאת המסכתא הוא לזכור בה כל ההלכות שהעידו עליהם אנשים ברורים נאמנים, ושעדותם ראוי לסמוך עליה… ועדויות הם הודעת הדברים שהעידו בם לפני השופטים בעיתים ידועים וקבלו אותם מהם

Thus, Eduyos means “testimonies”. The volume is a record of various halachic statements made by reliable men in front of judges, assembled into a single volume. To be more precise, as the Rambam also writes at the end of the second chapter of his commentary, based on Berachos 27b, these testimonials took place when R. Gamliel was deposed from his position of Nasi, and replaced by R. Elazar ben Azaryah. This would indeed appear to be the simplest explanation, as the phrase העיד – a Tanna “testified” – appears numerous times in Eduyos. And the plural of the word is, in fact, עדיות, as it appears in Makos 6b הרי אלו שתי עדיות.

And yet the matter is not quite that simple. For these numerous examples all appear only in the last three chapters of the 8-chapter volume. (The word is also used, in a passing and different context, in the third Mishna of the first chapter.) In fact, the majority of the rulings found in the volume were not decided on the basis of any testimony at all. Shouldn’t the name of the masechta reflect the character of the entire masechta?

There is a second interpretation of the word, based on an alternate name for Eduyos found several times in the Gemara: בחירתא. The meaning of this word is “the chosen”, or “the best”. The sense of the word is that these Mishnayos are “the best”, because the halacha follows them, since their content comes from great authorities. See, e.g., Rashi to Brachos 27a and Kiddushin 54b. Noting this, the Tiferes Yisrael commentary of R. Yisrael Lifschitz (1782-1860) writes in the name of his father that the name of the volume should really be pronounced עִדיות (Idiyos) with a chirik under the ayin. The word would thus parallel the term בחירתא, and would also be understood as “the choice ones”, in the same way that word is sometimes used in the Talmud, as in לא בא הכתוב אלא לִגְבּוֹת לנזקין מן העדית (Bava Kama 6b). The scholar Y. N. Epstein, in his מבוא לנוסח המשנה, also prefers this alternative “choice” explanation, citing Geonic spellings of the volume as עידיות which, in concert with the alternative name בחירתא, supports this understanding. (Interestingly, while Epstein cites this explanation in the name of the early Reform leader Abraham Geiger, a contemporary of R. Lifschitz, this view is already found in the Maarich of R. Menachem di Lonzano (1550-1626) under the entry for בחר.)[3]

Nevertheless, after R. Lipschitz records this suggestion he discredits it, based on Rashi in Kiddushin 54b. Rashi thereto, in explaining the word בחירתא, writes: מסכת עדיות קרי בחירתא שכל דבריהם העידו מפי הגדולים והלכה כמותן. Since Rashi deliberately employs the word העידו (rather than אמרו), he feels that Rashi did not agree with his father’s proposal, and instead accepted the traditional explanation that it means “testimony.” Yet this too, is not quite clear. While Rashi does clearly make a point of emphasizing the word העידו, he also uses the words מפי הגדולים, which speaks to “the best”. (And in his commentary to Brachos he does not use the word העידו at all.) The following must be noted as well: In the Rambam cited above, en route to explaining the word to mean “testimony”, Rambam writes that the volume contains “testimony from choice and trustworthy men.” (אנשים ברורים נאמנים). This too, speaks to the alternative “choice” explanation. Thus, both Rambam and Rashi appear to deliberately conflate both meanings – “testimony” and “choice” – in explaining the meanings of עדיות and בחירתא.

The ambiguity in Rashi and Rambam seem to suggest they saw merit in both explanations – which is another way of saying, perhaps, that they also sensed the difficulties in both. The most glaring difficulty, it seems to me, is that neither of the two explanations get to the heart of what Eduyos really is: a miscellany of disconnected and unrelated teachings. If the name of the volume is supposed to characterize the content it contains, surely a more apt appellation could have been chosen.

It is precisely because of this question that R. Yitzchak Rabinowitz, in Doros HaRishonim, posits that strictly speaking, only the last three chapters are called עדיות; these three chapters were added to a pre-existing work written in the early days of Yavneh (as the Tosefta to Eduyos indicates) that contained the first five chapters.[4] Together, the entire work is called בחירתא. R. Rabinowitz proceeds at length, with close analysis, to describe how the work ultimately came together, but of interest here, in doing so notes the following:

המס‘ הזאות היוצאת לגמרי מכל כלל מסכתות כולו, אשר הם ידברו מפרט אחד של שבת או יבמות וכו‘ והיא אין לא פרט כלל מסויים. ולא יכול להיות כזה, לפי שכל ענינה היפך מזה, כי מתחילה נבראה בימי הבירורים להביא שם העוללות מענינים השונים אשר עדיין לא נסדרו אצל יסוד המשנה ובמקומם, העוללות השייכים לדברי ב“ש וב“ה, והעוללות של סוף ימי הבית אשר עדיין לא נסדרו במקומם….יש בהם אשר נשארו כן גם לפנינו רק במס‘ עדיות לפי שהינם [כצ“ל] עומדים לעצמם, ואין להם התלת גמורה אצל יסוד המשנה…והדבר מובן מעצמו כי בעסקם בימי הבירורים כל דברי ב“ש וב“ה היה עליהם להביא את הדברים האלו אשר עדיין לא קנו מקומם ואשר אך במקום הזה הוא גם עיקר מקומם בהמס‘ הזאת, אשר נוסדה לכל העוללות האלה

R. Rabinowitz’s point is that Eduyos was intended as a sort of clearing house to record all sorts of information that did not have a natural home elsewhere in the Mishna.

With this in mind, I draw the reader’s attention to the following verse, Isaiah 64:5:

וַנְּהִי כַטָּמֵא כֻּלָּנוּ וּכְבֶגֶד עִדִּים כָּל צִדְקֹתֵינוּ וַנָּבֶל כֶּעָלֶה כֻּלָּנוּ וַעֲו‍ֹנֵנוּ כָּרוּחַ יִשָּׂאֻנוּ

We have all become defiled, and all our righteousness is like a worn-out garment; we all wither like a leaf, and like a wind, our sins carry us off. (Artscroll translation)

Note the phrase כבגד עדים. Rashi explains: וכבגד עדים – וכלבוש מרחק (ת“י) כבגד מאוס שהכל אומרים הסר. עדים תרגום של הסרה. The phrase means a piece of clothing to be cast out, something repulsive that everyone removes. Idim is the Targum of the word “removal”.

Rashi writes similarly in Genesis 4:19, in explanation of Lemech’s two wives, one of whom was named עדה. After explaining that the custom then was for men to take two wives, one for propagation and one for carnal pleasure, Rashi writes: עדה – היא של פריה ורביה, ועל שם שמגונה עליו ומוסרת מאצלו. עדה תרגום של סורה. Adah was called by this name because she was repulsive to and cast out from her husband. It is the Targum on the word “remove”. Indeed, in Genesis 49:10 the words לא יסור are translated by Targum as לא יעדי.

R. Isaiah D’Trani (רי“ד c. 1165-1240) relates the phrase to Proverbs (25:50) מעדה בגד ביום קרה, and says it means בגד ישן הרבה והוסר כל צמרו a very old cloth from which all the wool has been removed. The JPS translation (1999) renders it “Disrobing on a chilly day”, which retains the sense of discarding or removing.[5]

Radak, in his commentary to Isaiah, explains similarly: תרגום ספחת עדיא, ויש מפרשים מתרגום הרה מעדיא, כלומר כשתלד בגדיה מלוכלכים בדם, ויש לפרש בגד סמרטוט ובלוי, וכן בדברי רבותינו ז“ל המשמשת בעדים עד שהוא נתון תחת הכר, והענין אחד כי בגד מלוכלך הוא מוסר מהבריות.. The Targum of “discoloration” (Leviticus 13:2) is Adia. Some explain it based on the Targum of “pregnant” (Genesis 16:11) which is Mi-Adya, that is, when one gives birth, her clothes are soiled with blood. It should thus be understood here as a used rag. The sages employed a similar usage concerning a woman who cohabits with the use of cloths, i.e, the sheet under the pillow [to determine her halachic status as a menstruant.] The sense of the phrase is thus a dirty rag removed from people.

The concept of הסרה removed is thus common to all these explanations. Stated otherwise, the word עד or perhaps עדי means something cast aside. As noted by Radak (as well as the Aruch; see also R. Hai Gaon to Nidah 1:1, cited in Kohut’s Aruch Ha-Shalem) the word עד used in the laws of Nidah, commonly thought to mean that the use of a cloth bears “witness” to one’s halachic status as a menstruant, actually refers to the cloth itself. In the context of Isaiah, the phrase takes on a connotation of “filth”. However, as both Rashi and the Rid explain, and in view of the examples they cite, it appears that the word itself has no inherent connotation of uncleanliness. (To the contrary, if the rag were already soiled it would be of no use for determining one’s halachic status for purposes of Nidah.) The key point is that it refers to something cast off or discarded – a negligible item of no value by itself.

If so, we may have here the true meaning of the name of this most unusual Masechta. For, as noted by the Doros HaRishonim, what is the volume of Eduyos, if not an eclectic collection of random Mishnayos without any unifying theme in which they could otherwise find a home?

In Bava Basra 14b, after proposing that the prophet Hosea, of the 12 minor prophets, should be written separately, the Gemara rejects the proposal, commenting איידי דזוטר מירכס. Since it is small, if it would be written separately it would be lost.

Just so. The Mishnayos of Eduyos are teachings without a בית אב. They are small, individual items, with no common theme. If they were not assembled together in a single volume, they would have been lost. They would have been discarded and forever removed from the Talmudic cannon, except insofar as some of them found their way into the Gemara in the same way as other Beraisos did. These Mishnayos are all בגדי עידם – outcasts, left outside the other tractates because of their individualized nature. They are, then, to use the word we would use today: Miscellaneous.

It remains to be asked, if the name of the Masechta is based on the meaning of עד or עדי in the sense of “Outcasts”, (or as I prefer, “Miscellaneous”), rather than “Testimonies”, why then is it called עדיות rather than עדים? For this it is sufficient to note that there are many places in which the Sages employed words in grammatical formats different from the way they are found in Tanach. See Chulin 137b. כי סליק איסי בר היני אשכחיה לר‘ יוחנן דקא מתני ליה לבריה רחלים אמר ליה אתנייה רחלות א“ל כדכתיב רחלים מאתים אמר ליה לשון תורה לעצמה לשון חכמים לעצמן. In this example, R. Yochanan directed Issi to use the term רחלות with a feminine suffix, even though the Torah itself uses the masculine, because rabbinic terminology has its own pattern. As noted in the Soncino commentary, “In the speech of the rabbis there is a marked tendency to adopt the plural ending ‘oth’ in place of the ending ‘im’ with which the same words are found in the Bible. Compare the plural of המון, קרבן, עולם etc.” The word עדיות would thus fit neatly within this pattern.[6]

Alternatively, perhaps the sages thought the word עדים might be confused with the word for “witnesses”, and thus chose to use the word עדיות instead. There is precedent for such a suggestion – מסכת ביצה, it has been suggested, is pronounced differently from how the ordinary word ביצה is pronounced, for fear of confusion with a similar-looking word.[7]

Finally, it is entirely possible that the sages deliberately used the word עדיות to give it a broad meaning, so as to encompass all three meanings of the word עד: testimonies, choice, and miscellaneous. To call it עדים would only have given this third, new meaning suggested here. We have already noted above that both Rashi and the Rambam appear to recognize both of the first two meanings within their commentary. If so, and if I am correct in this suggestion that the word carries the connotation of “miscellaneous”, the sages may still have called the volume עדיות to preserve the other two meanings as well.

I acknowledge the inherent risk one undertakes in proposing a new reading in so basic and fundamental a point. Nevertheless, מקום הניחו לנו להתגדר. I believe this rare but well-established meaning of the word עד is, in whole or in part, the source of the name of Masechet עדיות.

Lecture on the Legend of R’ Yehuda Halevi’s Death and more

Eliezer Brodt

Earlier today I had a conversation with Rabbi Moshe Schwed of All Daf.  The conversation was a discussion of the famous Legend of R’ Yehuda Halevi’s death. I also devoted some time to talking about the Cairo Genizah and how some of its discoveries relates to R’ Yehuda Halevi’s final years.

Some of this material appeared earlier on the Seforim Blog back in 2011 (here) and in Hebrew in Yeshurun 25 (2011). A PDF is available (here).

We recorded it and it’s available for viewing here and here, and an audio recording is available here.

This is an experiment which we are trying on the Seforim Blog and we hope to have other presentations from others over time. Feedback or comments of any sort are appreciated.

In addition, one can hear my recent presentation on All Daf, aboutlearning Shas Kotton– Kesuvos Throughout the Ages here and here.

Season One of my series devoted to the seforim of Hagaon Rav Chaim Kanievsky Ztz’l was completed a few weeks ago B”h, and ten episodes are available for viewing here.

IYH Season Two should begin shortly.

Sponsorships are available.

Recommended Summer Reading

By Eliezer Brodt

There are various “agendas” in the following post.

One goal is to continue to inform the Seforim Blog readership of some of the recently published seforim and provide them with descriptive reviews. Another goal is to make some of them available for sale; the proceeds help support the Seforim Blog.

Summertime affords some people a bit more time to relax and read a little. So even though book buying\selling has been dying, seforim & books are still being published at full speed. I have often wondered who is even buying\reading them. However, from various sources on line I see that some people are still interested in at least knowing about the new publications.

R’ David Bashevkin has created a whole following on Twitter discussing books weekly. In his podcast series he has given this month to devote to talking about different aspects related to books. Nachi Weinstein at Seforim Chatter is still going strong between book listings and podcasts, and Tradition has released their Summer recommended reading lists (here and here).

R’ Yoel Catane has just released the latest issue of Hamayan [#242], which includes his regular, excellent column of Book Reviews. This issue also includes an index of over 70 pages of the Books and Seforim reviewed in the Journal over the past twenty years. A PDF of the Journal is available upon request.

The books mentioned bellow are not “light reads” for, let’s say relaxing after the chulent, but are still very worthwhile.

ר’ בנימין ברוך קרלנשטיין, ים ודרום ירשה, גבולי ארץ ישראל, תקלה עמודים +119 עמודים של מפות

The first work I would like to mention is called Yam Udrom Yarsha. Every once in a while, a new topic comes to the forefront. Sometimes this topic has been around for a while, with much literature, but for whatever reason it becomes hot and an explosion happens at which many articles and works on the topic are published all at the same time. The topic in this case is the Boundaries of Eretz Yisroel. In the past few months at least six works have been published on this, all containing valuable material. I wish I had the time to discuss this fascinating subject, the geography of Eretz Yisroel and its importance for various fields such as Halacha, Chumash and Navi at length but my time is very limited. I hope to do a proper write up (or talk) about it in the near future.

This particular work is beautifully produced; it looks like the author has literally left no stone unturned. And it includes over a hundred pages of beautifully produced color maps to help one understand the topic better.

Email me if you would like a PDF of the Table of contents and some sample pages.

ירחמיאל ברודי, פירוש מסכת כתובות מן התלמוד בבלי, ג’ חלקים, 1200 עמודים

The next work I would like to bring the readers’ attention to is Professor Robert Brody’s three volume work on Mesechtas Kesuvot. Professor Robert Brody is recognized as one of the world’s experts on the Geonim. He has authored numerous articles and published materials of and about the Geonim, including numerous lost works.

In recent years he has published a lot on the subject of Academic Talmud. This is a subject which is worthy of its own series of posts which maybe one day I will have time to write. Most people that talk about it do not really have a grasp about what it is exactly. Lately, Academic Talmud has been discussed by various people as one of the famous Scholars of this field, Rabbi Professor David Halivni, recently passed away.

Brody’s articles on this topic were papers read at various conventions, there he discussed and many times disagreed with previous theories of scholars such as Halivni, Shamma Friedman and others. Most of these discussions and publications are read by a small readership who follow the ins and outs of Academic Talmud. In recent years Brody has published two books related to this subject, one in Hebrew (here) and one in English (here). A few weeks ago, and just in time for Daf Yomi learners, his three-volume running commentary on the whole Mesechata was released. It includes a detailed introduction about his method. For those “into” this kind of stuff this is an excellent and important work to be aware of and for some to learn carefully.

Email me if you would like a PDF of the introduction or some sample pages.

ר’ יעקב חיים סופר, מנוחת שלום, ד’ חלקים, כולל מפתחות

Rabbi Yakov Chaim Sofer is one of the most prolific writers of our generation and his expertise in all areas of Torah is legendary. In 2002, his father was Niftar and he decided that for each month of the year of Aveliut he would publish a volume of his writings, calling this work Menuchat Sholom. He successfully completed these 12 volumes, which touched upon a wide range of subjects, including: Shas, Torah, Bibliography, Minhaghim and much more. This special series has just been re-issued in four hardcover volumes with a 299pp. index, making this incredible encyclopedia more user friendly.

ר’ עובדיה זכאי, בקרבך קדוש, ניתוחי קיצור קיבה בהלכה, 350 עמודים

It is well known that many people seek out to write on some exotic/obscure topic and then turn it into a whole work. One such recent work is all about Stomach stapling (Sleeve gastrectomy), an operation that many overweight people consider having. This work literally deals with dozens of areas throughout the Halachic spectrum that could possibly present themselves. It also deals with some of the medical aspects of the procedure. For those into the genre of Medical halacha books this is an important new work worth owning.

Below is the Table of contents of the work

זכור לאברהם, בית מדרש ישיבת אליהו, ג’ חלקים, ב’תעז עמודים

In the early 1990’s one of the important Torah Journals to come out was Zechor LeAvrohom. Articles in the series included materials based on manuscripts alongside influential Halacha and Minhag discussions. Many of the manuscripts are housed in this Yeshivah’s library. About 18 volumes were published at the time; the last of which was published in 2005. A few weeks ago, there was a revival of sorts and three massive volumes were published, totaling over two thousand four hundred pages of new material!

As one can see from the Table of contents posted below, it’s full of interesting material on a wide range of subjects. The last few volumes of this journal are not available electronically and the plan is for this format to continue with these new volumes.

Hard copies of the earlier volumes are still available for purchase.

יעקב צבי מאיר, דפוס ראשון: מהדורת התלמוד הירושלמי ונציה רפ”ג וראשית הדפוס העברי, 265 עמודים

A short description of this book says: This study focuses on one medieval manuscript of the Palestinian Talmud, that served as a printer’s copy for the first edition of the composition, printed in Venice (1523). A detailed philological examination of the preparation of the text for print, drives a comprehensive description of transition of Talmudic literature from manuscript culture to print culture.

This work is technical but very important for people interested in understanding the transformation from a world of Manuscripts to a world with a printing press. In addition, it also helps one understand how exactly the first seforim were published.

Here is the Table of contents

רועי גולדשמידט, דורשי רשומות, רטוריקה, עריכה למדנות ומעמדות חברתיים בספרות הדרוש במזרח אירופה, 311 עמודים

This work is an important addition to the literature about Derush in general, and in particular in the early 1800’s. It also focuses a lot on the famous, popular work Arvei Nachal.

יוסף עופר, המסורה למקרא ודרכיה, פרקי מבוא, 345 עמודים

This latest work from Yosef Ofer, one of the world experts of the Masorah (and more), is meant to serve as an introduction to this complex subject.

קהילת צפרו, דורות ראשונים, סיפורה של קהילת צפרו במרוקו ואישי המעלה שחיו ופעלו בה, 387 עמודים \ קהילת צפרו, תהלה לדוד, סיפור חייו ומפעליו של הרב דוד עובדיה רבה האחרון של קהילת צפרו במרוקו,493 עמודים

These two volumes recently published by Kehillot Yisroel Institute are devoted to the city Sefrou in Morocco. The first volume traces its earlier history and the second volume concludes with an in-depth biography on its last Rav, R’ Dovid Ovadiah. These books are beautifully produced, with great pictures and many rare documents related to this city.

For a PDF of sample pages and a Table of Contents, email me.

משה הלל, מסכת תמורות, תולדות ר’ מרדכי שמואל גירונדי מפאדובה, לקורות הרבנית והקהילות באיטיליה בתקופת האמנציפצית וההשכלה, 592 עמודים

R’ Moshe Hillel has published yet another book via Kehillot Yisroel Institute. Like his previous works, this too is – simply put – incredible. It is meticulous researched and full of new information related to Italian Jewry in the early 1800’s based on manuscripts. The main focus of the book is R’ Mordechai Girondi’s life, a unique and fascinating person, with chapters about his library, his writings, his attitude towards Haskalah and much more. Moreover, materials related to the Ramchal among other personalities can be found in this work. A special section is devoted to R’ Girondi’s bibliographical work Toldos Gedolei Yisroel ViGeoni Italia. This is an important work, well worth owning and reading.

שד”ל, אוהב גר, 251 עמודים , בעריכת יונתן בשיא

In recent years many of Shadal’s works have been made available again (some with new material), some of which have not been easily purchasable for a long time. Some of these works have even been translated into English.

One of the classic works on Targum Onkelos is Shadal’s first book, Ohev Ger. It has now been reissued in a newly annotated edition.

Email me for a PDF of Sample pages.

ר’ משה פרנס, פרשת המלך, על מצות הקהל, תקטז עמודים

This new work, hot off the press, is an encyclopedic work devoted to every aspect of Hakhel. It has literally everything one can possibly think of related to Hakhel and includes a through index.

Email me for a PDF of Sample pages.

Contemporary Uses and Forms of Hasidut. Edited by Shlomo Zuckier. Yeshiva University Press, 2022. 516 pages. ISBN 978-1-60280-398-5.

REVIEWED BY BEZALEL NAOR

When the ‘Ilui of Denenburg was in Lublin, he visited the Rabbi of the city, the Gaon Rabbi Shneur Zalman [Fradkin]. Upon parting, he asked him if there is to be found in Lublin another gaon. Rabbi Shneur Zalman replied: “There resides here Rabbi Zadok HaKohen, a great gaon.” The ‘Ilui of Denenburg went to the “Kohen,” who received him with great honor.

(Shmuel Ungar, Sefer Toledot Hakohen mi-Lublin, ed. Zevi Moskowitch [Jerusalem, 1966], chap. 9, p. 36)

When the famous Gaon, Rabbi Yosef Rosen, may he live, the Rabbi of Denenburg, visited him and wished to engage him in pilpul (Talmudic dialectic), [Rabbi Zadok Hakohen] said to him: “When the Men of the Great Assembly instituted the blessing, ‘You bestow knowledge upon men,’ their intention was not that one should demonstrate ones prowess in pilpul. But since ‘from the LORD a man’s steps are set’ [Psalms 37:23], perhaps it is for this reason that His Honor has come to me. Though His Honor is an ‘ilui, he should know that I was an ‘ilui. While I was yet young, I won over all the gedolim (greats) who engaged me in pilpul. Yet, I saw afterward, that it is impossible to merit to the ‘crown of Torah’ unless we latch onto the door of the disciples of the Ba‘al Shem Tov, may his merit protect us.”

(Shlomo Gavriel Margaliyot, “Toledot Rabbeinu ha-Kohen ha-Mehaber,” Introduction to Rabbi Zadok ha-Kohen, Sihat Mal’akhei ha-Sharet [Lublin, 1927], 2a)

For the better part of the twentieth century, Yeshiva University—under its rashei yeshivah, Rabbi Moshe Soloveichik, his elder son Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (referred to simply as “the Rav”), and younger son Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik—was the vanguard of the much vaunted “Brisker derekh,” the novel method of Talmudic analysis developed by Rabbi Hayyim Soloveichik of Brisk de-Lita (Brest-Litovsk), Moshe’s father. This methodology was later transported to Yeshivat Har Etzion (in Gush Etzion), when Rabbi Yosef Dov’s son-in-law Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein became rosh yeshivah there in 1971. The Soloveichik Family, descendants of Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin, the premier disciple of the Vilna Gaon, carried on the Mitnagdic tradition of Torah li-shemah (study of Torah for Torah’s sake) as outlined in Rabbi Hayyim’s work Nefesh ha-Hayyim, and as put into practice for the better part of the nineteenth century in the Volozhin Yeshivah, ‘the mother of yeshivot.”

And then there was Shagar. ShaGaR (acronym of Shimon Gershon Rosenberg) (1949-2007), himself a product of the Dati-Le’umi (Religious Zionist) world (identified by their knitted yarmulkas, or kippot serugot) posed a challenge to the monolithic world of Brisk. With an impressive armamentarium of spiritual works—Habad, Likkutei Moharan (by Rabbi Nahman of Breslov), Mei ha-Shilo’ah (of the Izhbitser Rebbe)—his teachings found a chink in the armor of the time-hallowed derekh ha-limmud (method of study). One could say, Shagar was a Litvak’s worst nightmare. Students of the Gush, the so-called “Harvard of yeshivot hesder,” who evidently were dissatisfied with the traditional diet of the yeshivah, were taken by the siren song of Shagar, who dispensed a post-modernist presentation of Hasidic thought.

And then the unthinkable occurred. The refracted light of Hasidism bounced back to the “mother ship,” Yeshiva University, and in 2013, Rabbi Moshe Weinberger, an American Hasidic rebbe (a graduate of Yeshiva University), was appointed “Mashpi‘a” of Yeshiva University. (Previously, the title “mashpi‘a,” or “spiritual influencer,” was synonymous with Lubavitcher yeshivot.)

The meeting between the Vilna Gaon’s heirs and the Ba‘al Shem Tov’s heirs was happening.

The present volume, edited by Rabbi Dr. Shlomo Zuckier, a polymath of some distinction, and published under the auspices of Yeshiva University, is testimony to this paradigm shift within the world of Yeshiva University and Yeshivat Har Etzion.

The thought occurs to this writer that the confrontation of Shagar and Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein in the Gush, might have taken place a generation earlier had Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel become faculty at Yeshiva University. (There exists documentation to substantiate the negotiations between Heschel and Yeshiva University.) Within the halls of Yeshiva University there would have held forth the Rav and the Rebbe; the scion of the Beit Harav mi-Volozhin, and the descendant of the Apter Rov (his namesake, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel), author of Ohev Yisrael; Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berdichev, author of Kedushat Levi; the royal house of Ruzhin; and the Rebbe of Novominsk. A generation earlier, the encounter of the Man of Halakhah and the Man of Aggadah might have produced a marvelous cross-pollination.

A single example will illustrate the fecundity of their mutually complementary thought: Prophecy.

Where the Rav, the Ish ha-Halakhah (based on Maimonides, of course) “worked overtime” to glean the halakhic takeaway of the entire prophetic enterprise, and arrived finally at the notion of imitatio Dei (“ve-halakhta bi-derakhav”), the Rebbe, the Ish ha-Aggadah, dismissed imitatio Dei. While the Man of Halakhah sought the dimension of “prophecy needed for generations” (“nevu’ah she-hutzrekhah le-dorot,” b. Megillah 14a), the Man of Aggadah searched for precisely the “teaching of the hour” (hora’at sha‘ah).

After quoting Maimonides’ Hilkhot De‘ot 1:6 (“And in this way, the prophets called God by all those epithets [kinuyim]—“Long Suffering,” “Master of Lovingkindness,” “Righteous,” “Straight,” etc.—to make known that they are good and straight ways, and a man is obligated to conduct himself by them and to emulate Him to his ability”), Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik confides:

I always had difficulty in regard to the role of the prophets of Israel. On one hand, we rule that a prophet may not innovate to add or subtract even a jot; on the other hand, the word of the LORD required prophets, and their prophecy was written down for generations. What is the purpose of their prophecy inasmuch as they were unable to innovate any matter of Halakhah? Certainly, they rebuked Israel, and rebuke was one of the purposes for which our prophets were sent. However, I still have difficulty saying that in their prophecy they told Israel nothing in the Halakhic sense.

But now all is crystal clear. There is an entire Torah in the books of the Prophets—the Torah of the ways of the LORD, the Torah of the epithets that obligates man in imitating his Creator. … Tout court, prophecy came to teach man how to participate in the attributes of the Holy One, blessed be He, and to attain His epithets.

(Yosef Dov Soloveitchik, Shi‘urim le-Zekher Abba Mori [Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 2002], vol. 2, pp. 188-189)

In revolt against Maimonides, and nurtured on the iconoclasm of Pshysucha and Kotzk, Heschel, proponent of divine pathos, searches for exactly the “teaching of the moment,” the prophet’s experience of the moment. (As one of the authors in the collection, the late Ya‘akov Elman, wrote, “Individualism in Przysucha-Kotzk-Izbica-Lublin involves not just individual humans, but also individual moments in time and circumstance” [p. 87].)

Heschel writes:

Prophetic sympathy is by no means identical with the imitation of God, which in the broadest sense is also a biblical motif (cf. Lev. 19:2). The difference is the more significant because the resemblance, too, is obvious. Imitatio, the pattern of which is a concrete life-history, is realized as a practical way of life. Sympathy, whose object is an inner spiritual reality, is a disposition of the soul. The prototype of imitatio is an unchanging model; a constant traditional knowledge of it indicates a ready path to be followed. Pathos, on the other hand, is ever changing, according to the circumstances of the given situation. The content of sympathy is not fixed by any predetermination. What is abiding in it, is simply the orientation toward the living reality of God.

Imitatio is concerned with a past, sympathy with a present, occurrence. Imitatio is remote from history; what is at stake in sympathy is an actual historical situation.

(Abraham Joshua Heschel, The Prophets [Peabody, Mass.: Hendrikson, 2010], Part Two, p. 102)

And again, in even more strident terms:

The goal of sympathy is not to become like unto God, but to become effective as a prophet through approximation to the pathos of God. In sympathy, divine pathos is actually experienced in the moment of crisis; in imitatio, the fixed pattern is transmitted. In the former case, an assimilation or creative understanding is necessary; in the latter, mere knowledge is sometimes sufficient.

In imitatio, the whole being of the deity is often taken as the pattern; in sympathy, only its aspect as pathos is taken as the pattern.

(Ibid. pp. 102-103)

We read that when a meeting was arranged between Rabbis Heschel and Soloveitchik in the 1960s to map out a strategy for confronting the Vatican, at their initial encounter, these two Jewish leaders (whose parallel paths traversed Warsaw, Berlin and New York) discussed (at Rabbi Soloveitchik’s insistence)—Yiddish literature. Perhaps the time has come for the denizens of the worlds of Halakhah and Aggadah to discuss—Prophecy.

On the Ger Tzedek of Vilnius

By Yosef Vilner

This year the holiday of Shavuot occurred right after Shabbat. There were many meals and lively conversations around the table. During one these talks my daughter mentioned a story she read in a weekly supplement to the Hebrew edition of the Orthodox Jewish newspaper Hamodia. The story was about Polish nobleman Graf Potocki, a convert to Judaism who was convicted of apostacy by the Catholic Church and burned alive at the stake in Vilna on the second day of Shavuot on May 24, 1749. As a native of Vilna, I was very pleased to hear that this old, deeply rooted Litvak tradition is still celebrated on the pages of the contemporary Israeli magazines. However, the following day I discovered that Lithuanian Jewish Community in an apparent attempt to commemorate this event as a non-event published an article with a headline: “Ger Tzedek Count Potocki Story is Likely a Myth.” The article is derived from Wikipedia, where it appears under the title “Abraham ben Abraham.”

What prompted the editors of the website to compose such a headline? Most likely the following introductory passage in the Wikipedia article: “Although the Orthodox Jewish community accepts the teachings about Abraham ben Abraham, secular scholars have largely concluded that it is a legend.” But if the editors would take the trouble to continue reading the article they would probably arrive at a different conclusion. Setting aside the question of the reliability of Wikipedia as a source, let me present some of the conclusions of these “scholars” and examine them together with you.

As we read the article, we are informed that: “Historians who have studied the story of Potocki, believe it to be invented although it is unknown when or by whom. Jacek Moskwa points to a possibility that the author was Kraszewski himself, who is known to have invented some tales he claimed were true.” The reference here is to Joszef Ignacy Kraszewski, a well-known Polish writer and historian who published the story about Ger Tzedek from a Hebrew manuscript in his history of Vilna in 1841.

But to our great surprise in the next paragraph we discover that: “Polish historian Janusz Tazbir asserted that the story originated at the turn of the 19th century and was published in a Jewish periodical issued in London as “The Jewish Expositor and Friend of Israel” (vol. 8, 1822).” It does not take a mathematical genius to figure out that if the story appeared in print already in 1822 it could not be an invention of Kraszewski, who published it in 1841.

But what is this mysterious “Jewish periodical issued in London” called The Jewish Expositor and Friend of Israel? And what was exactly published there? A quick Google search produced the following results. “The Jewish Expositor and Friend of Israel” was a monthly periodical published by London Society for Promoting Christianity amongst the Jews, by no means a “Jewish periodical”. The abovementioned volume contains “Extracts from the Journal of Mr. Wolff”, who was a Jewish convert to Christianity and traveled as a missionary in Egypt and Eretz Israel between 1821 and 1826. According to the Jewish Encyclopedia from 1906 he “was the first modern missionary to preach to the Jews near Jerusalem.”  In the spring of 1822, he met with Rabbi Menachem Mendl of Shklov one of the leading rabbis in Jerusalem at the time. A neophyte Christian and a fervent missionary, Joseph Wolff initiated theological discussions with Rabbi Menachem Mendl in a disguised attempt to convert him to Christianity. Rabbi Rabbi Menachem Mendl, on the other hand, intended to bring Joseph Wolff back to the faith of his forefathers, the Judaism. It is the experts from these discussions that Joseph Wolff reported to “The Jewish Expositor and Friend of Israel”. April 14, 1822, Joseph Wolff wrote: “Rabbi Mendel mentioned to me the history of the conversion of a Polish Count, Podozky by name, he turned Jew, and was committed to the flames by the inquisition in Wilna.”

Rabbi Menachem Mendl was one of the outstanding disciples of the Vina Gaon, who immigrated to Eretz Israel in 1808 and settled in Jerusalem in 1816. Born in Shklov in 1750 he came to Vilna in 1795 to study with the Gaon. According to his own testimony: “I did not withdraw from his [the Gaon’s] presence; I held onto him and did not leave him; I remained in his tent day and night.” There is little doubt that he heard the story about the Ger Tzedek from the Rabbis of Vilna who were contemporaries to the trial and the execution of Avraham ben Avraham in 1749. This oral tradition Menachem Mendl related to Joseph Wolff in Jerusalem on the 14 April 1822.

As a result, the assertion of Janusz Tazbir  that the story about the Ger Tzedek “originated at the turn of the 19th century“ is not at all compelling. Moreover, if we scroll back to the beginning of the Wikipedia article, we will read the following passage:

There is also one contemporary written account from 1755, by Rabbi Yaakov Emden, Vayakam Edus b’Yaakov, 1755, p. 25b. A rough translation: A few years ago, it happened in Vilna the capital of Lithuania that a great prince from the family of Pototska converted. They captured him and imprisoned him for many days thinking they could return him to their religion. He knew that he would not escape harsh tortures and a cruel death if he would not return. They wanted to save him from the death and punishment that would await him if he held out. He paid no attention to them or to the begging of his mother the countess. He was not afraid or worried about dying in all the bitter anguish they had done to him. After waiting for him for a long time, they tried to take it easy on him for the honor of his family. He ridiculed all the temptations of the priests who would speak to him every day because he was an important minister. He scorned them and laughed at them, and chose death of long and cruel agony, to the temporary life of this world. He accepted and suffered all from love and died sanctifying God’s name. May he rest in peace.

Rabbi Yakov Emden, one of the prominent European Rabbis of the 18^th century, resided most of his life in Altona, now part of Hamburg, but maintained very close ties with the Jewish community of Vilna, were both of his parental grandparents were born. Known for his critical attitudes, he most certainly verified the credibility of the account before he published it in a book.

If incredulous Janusz Tazbir would be aware of this source, he would never have suggested “that the story originated at the turn of the 19th century.” But would he be convinced that it really happened in the first half of the previous century? Probably not, and this is because: “the tragic fate of Potocki, passed through Jewish oral tradition, remains unconfirmed by 18th-century Polish primary sources .” We must admit, in all fairness, that the lack of the evidence in the Polish sources poses a serious problem. But does it necessarily follow that the alleged event never happened? Or is it possible that the Polish archives of that period possess black holes that conceal certain events? One could speculate that due to the prominence of the Potocki magnate family, the conversion of one its members from Catholicism to Judaism and his subsequent execution was concealed from the public and later obliterated from the Church records.

As we progress with Tazbir’s arguments presented in the article we discover that: “the Polish nobility was guaranteed the freedom of faith and capital punishment was extremely rare.” But the author of the article is quick to note: “though see also Iwan Tyszkiewicz” and links to an entry in Wikipedia were we are told the following. Iwan Tyszkiewicz was well-to-do subject of the Polish–Lithuanian Commonwealth, who became a follower of Socinian doctrines and abandoned Roman Catholicism for a Unitarian sect and was burned alive for blasphemous heresy at the great marketplace of Warsaw in 1611. So much for religious freedom of faith. The second point attributed to Tazbir in above citation “and capital punishment was extremely rare” is even more incredible. How does it exactly invalidate the Jewish tradition that one Ger Tzedek was executed in 1749? Furthermore, according to Magda Teter (The Legend of Ger Zedek of Wilno as Polemic and Reassurance, AJS Review 29:2, 2005) in the span of five-year period from 1748 to 1753, another two such executions occurred in Poland. Abram Michelevich, a Jew from Mohilev, and his Christian partner, Paraska Danilowna, were executed in Mohilev in 1748, Abraham for proselytizing and Paraska for apostasy. And on June 2, 1753, Rafal Sentimani was burned alive for having converted from Catholicism to Judaism on the outskirts of Vilna. By no means it could be called an extreme rarity by the standards of the mid-eighteenth century.

Professor Shaul Stampfer of Hebrew University once commented that it is much easier for a historian to prove what something did happen then to prove that something did not happen. Indeed, to paraphrase the famous motto of Leopold von Ronke, to show wie es eigentlich nicht gewesen ist is extremely difficult. Some of the arguments against the historicity of the Jewish tradition about Count Valentin Potocki presented in the Wikipedia article are false, some are dubious, and others are not compelling. The deafening silence of the Polish sources from the 18^th century could possibly be explained; the Jewish record from 1755 cannot possibly be ignored. Is it legitimate because of this piece of scholarship to conclude that: “Ger Tzedek Count Potocki Story is Likely a Myth”?

If gerbiami journalists from Lithuanian Jewish Community could go back in time for some eighty-five years and then continue for another ten minutes from their fortified headquarters on Pylimo street to attend the morning service at the Great Synagogue of Vilna on the second day of Shavuot, they would hear a special prayer recited in honor of Avraham ben Avraham, the Ger Tzedek. A prayer that is already mentioned by Samuel Joseph Fuenn in his Kiryah ne’emanah ,1860, p.125. And its recital on the second day of Shavuot in the Great Synagogue is attested to by Chaykl Lunski in Mehagito Havilnai, 1921, p.56.

If they would visit the old Jewish cemetery in Shnipishok, they would see a place where the ashes Ger Tzedek were interred. The grave “had an iron shed built over it, with a Hebrew inscription, enclosed with large blocks of stone joined by heavy iron rails” (Israel Cohen, Vilna 1943, p. 74).

If they would visit the old cemetery on the 9^th of Av or on the eve of the High Holidays, they would most likely encounter numerous visitors praying by the grave of the Ger Tzedek. Would they still have courage to say that “Ger Tzedek Count Potocki Story is Likely a Myth”, and the Jews of Vina are paying respect to the product of their own imagination?

The Great Synagogue of Vina was demolished, and the old Jewish cemetery was razed to the ground by the Lithuanian Soviet regime. Most of the worshipers who offered a special prayer in honor of Ger Tzedek on the day of his martyrdom or prayed by his grave themselves became martyrs during the Holocaust. But the story about noble life and tragic death of Count Potocki is still retold by the traditional Jewish periodicals around the time of Shavuot with great admiration and respect. Would it not be more appropriate for the official website of the Lithuanian Jewish Community to honor its glorious past and to do the same instead of calling it “likely a myth”?

Acknowledgment

My understanding of this topic was informed by a lecture of Professor Shnayer Leiman “The Ger Tzedek of Vilna: Fact or Fiction”, available on yutorah.org.

Rashi BaMidbar 22:9- “Taut Sofrim” or “Agadot Chalukot?”

By Eli Genauer

Summary: Here we find polar opposite approaches to a Stirah in Rashi’s commentary to the Torah. One approach maintains that Rashi used two different Midrashic sources for his contradictory comments, and the other solves the Stirah by saying that one of the comments attributed to Rashi is actually a Taut Sofrim.

There is a very perplexing verse towards the beginning of Parshat Balak:

ט:וַיָּבֹא אֱלֹקים אֶל-בִּלְעָם וַיֹּאמֶר מִי הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה עִמָּךְ:

Balak sent messengers to Bilaam asking him to curse the Jewish people. Bilaam retired for the night and Hashem approached him at that time. “Who are these men with you?”, Hashem asked. Certainly, the Omniscient One knew the answer to that question. We look to Rashi to explain the motivation for G-d’s question and surprisingly we find it all the way back in Parshat Breishit (Breishit 3:9). Adam and Chava had just disobeyed Hashem by eating the forbidden food and they heard Hashem walking in the Garden. Hashem asked Adam “where are you?”( איכה), the answer to which Hashem already knew. Rashi comments as follows:

“איכה“. יוֹדֵעַ הָיָה הֵיכָן הוּא אֶלָּא לִכָּנֵס עִמּוֹ בִּדְבָרִים, שֶׁלֹּא יְהֵא נִבְהָל לְהָשִׁיב אִם יַעֲנִישֵׁהוּ פִּתְאוֹם (בראשית רבה),[1] וְכֵן בְּקַיִן אָמַר לוֹ אֵי הֶבֶל אָחִיךָ (בראשית ד), וְכֵן בְּבִלְעָם מִי הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה עִמָּךְ (במדבר כ“ב), לִכָּנֵס עִמָּהֶם בִּדְבָרִים, וְכֵן בְּחִזְקִיָּה בִּשְׁלוּחֵי מְרֹאדַךְ בַּלְאֲדָן:

Hashem knew where Adam was, but He asked this in order to open up a conversation with him that he should not become confused in his reply, if He were to pronounce punishment against him all of a sudden……..Similarly with Bilaam, “who are these men with you?” — to open up a conversation with them.

Rashi in Breishis emphasizes that the reason Hashem asked Bilaam “who are these men with you” was to draw him into a conversation, thereby making him more comfortable in speaking to Him.

However in Parshas Balak (BaMidbar 22:9) Rashi seems to have a different take[2] on why Hashem asked “Who are these men with you?”

מי האנשים האלה עמך. לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא, אָמַר פְּעָמִים שֶׁאֵין הַכֹּל גָּלוּי לְפָנָיו, אֵין דַּעְתּוֹ שָׁוָה עָלָיו, אַף אֲנִי אֶרְאֶה עֵת שֶׁאוּכַל לְקַלֵּל וְלֹא יָבִין (תנחומא):

“Who are these men with you?” G-d’s question led Bilaam to conclude “Sometimes, not everything is revealed before Him, for He is not always omniscient. I will find a time when I am able to curse, and He will not realize it.” The words “ לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא” with which Rashi begins, seem to indicate that Hashem was trying to mislead Bilaam into thinking that He was not all knowing, and not to draw him into a conversation . Here are a few attempts to translate לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא.

1. “To cause him to err did He come” – Linear Translation of Rashi – S.S. and R Publishing Company Brooklyn, NY 1949
2. “It came to delude him“ – Chabad website for Parshat HaShavua based on translation of Rabbi A.J Rosenberg for Judaica Press
3. He intended to delude him (1) – Chumash with Rashi of A.M. Silbermann and M. Rosenbaum, Jerusalem 1934

The Silbermann Chumash directs you to a footnote which reflects the approach of many of the Meforshai Rashi on the contradiction between the two comments of Rashi. “Rashi on Genesis 3:9 has already pointed out that sometimes G-d puts a seemingly superfluous question to a person to open a conversation. One of the instances he cites there is Bilaam. The heathen soothsayer did not understand the purpose of this question, and it suggested to him that G-d was not omniscient at all times”

The Artscroll Sapirstein Rashi does a much better job in encapsulating this approach by replacing “cause him to err” with “gave him room to err”.[3] Artscroll adds a footnote summarizing the approach of Gur Aryeh by saying that Hashem intended to gently open the conversation with Bilaam, but worded the question in an ambiguous way. Bilaam could have understood the question as Hashem’s way of entering into a conversation with him, but he instead chose to interpret it to indicate that Hashem was not always aware of all the details of a situation.

Professor Yeshayahu Maori Z”L in his book “Sugyot B’Nusach HaMikrah U’B’Parshnato”[4] advances the idea that the Stirah stems from the fact that Rashi accessed two different Midrashic sources, one for his comment in Breishit and one for his comment in BaMidbar.[5] This is based on the idea which was advanced by Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi that sometimes Rashi used “Agadot Chalukot”.[6] The author of “Tzaidah L’Derech” (Prague 1623) sees this case as one where Rashi used “Agadot Chalukot” and that is why Rashi’s comment on “מי האנשים האלה עמך “is different in Breishit and BaMidbar.[7] Here are the words of Rav Yissachar Ber Eilenburg (1570-1623) author of “Tzaideh L’Derech”

אלא מאי אית לך למימר שאגדות חלוקות הן ורש״י רגיל לפרש פעמים אחר אגדה אחת ופּעמים אחר אגדה אחרת כמו שכתב הרא״ם ז״ל בהרבה מקומות אין מספר

“But what can you say but that Rashi used different Aggadot here. Rashi is accustomed to explaining matters by using one Aggadah here and another Aggadah there as Rav Eliyah Mizrachi has stated in many places”[8]

Rav Yosef Ben Yissachar Miklish (1580-1654) is one who is very bothered by the fact that this comment in Rashi seemingly contradicts what he wrote in his commentary on Hashem’s question of “where are you?” to Adam ( Breishit 3:9).[9] He addresses this Stirah in a completely different manner. He maintains that he had a manuscript which was 315 years old in which the words “לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא” did not exist, nor did it contain the words that followed. Rather, it had a completely different Girsa in this Rashi. The website Alhatorah.org attributes a very similar Girsa to a manuscript called Berlin 1221[10] along with material from other manuscripts.[11] It also notes that Wolf Heidenheim attributed the comment to Rav Yosef Kara.

היידנהיים ייחס את התוספת לר׳ יוסף בר׳ שמעון ז״ל,[12] ואפשר שכך היה כתוב בכ״י שלפניו, אך בכל עדי הנוסח שבידינו, אין ייחוס מפורש לר״י קרא. והשווה רש״י בראשית ג׳:ט׳.[13]

The comment attributed to Rashi in this manuscript in general matches the words quoted by Yosef Daat for “his” version of Rashi. The main thrust is that Hashem addressed Bilaam in a way to engage him in the way one addresses someone to make them feel comfortable כשיבוא לתפוס את האדם מתוך דבריו, and not to delude him (ְלהַטְעוֹתוֹ)

Berlin 1221

https://digital.staatsbibliothek-berlin.de/werkansicht?PPN=PPN666097542&PHYSID=PHYS_0160&DMDID=DMDLOG_0001

Yosef Daat

The author of Yosef Daat even speculates that the words “לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא” are a Taut Sofrim inserted by printers “to cause people to err” as Rashi himself would never have written such a comment.

כי גירסת “לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא” היא גירסא בא בדפוס להטות את הבריות

However, the overwhelming majority of manuscripts contain the wording of Rashi as we have it today, something which the author of Yosef Daat would not have known.[14] Here is the important manuscript known as Leipzig 1.[15]

The three Defusim Rishonim (Rome, Alkabetz and Reggio di Callabrio) do not contain the Girsa cited by Yosef Daat. There is no indication in any early printed edition from the 1400’s and 1500’s that any other Girsa existed.

Avraham Berliner (Berlin 1867) normally notes the Girsaot of Yosef Daat but here completely ignores it.[16]

There was another approach taken a bit over 400 years ago in trying to explain what Rashi meant when he wrote לְהַטְעוֹתוֹ בָא and that is to insert an explanatory remark in parentheses embedded into the text of Rashi. The first time I could find it in a printed edition was in one printed in Hanau 1611-1614. This is how it looks:

)ר“ל ישרים דרכי ה‘ צדיקים ילכו בם ופושעים יכשלו בם כוונת הש“י שאמר מי האנשים היתה לטובה ליכנס עמו בדברים כמ“ש רש“י בפ‘ בראשית בתיבה איכה אך בא לבלעם לטעות כי הוא טעה)

This portion in the parentheses is clearly not part of Rashi and it makes no attempt to hide it as it states clearly כמ“ש רש“י בפ‘ בראשית בתיבה איכה. It tries to explain what Rashi means by first quoting a Pasuk, (ישרים דרכי ה׳… ) something Rashi could have done himself if he so desired.

The Hanau edition contained many other comments like this. The Bibliography of the Hebrew Book notes that this was an edition which featured additions to Rashi from some of the Meforshai Rashi.

ככל אשר נדפס בויניציאה [ש”ן-שנ”א] -מעבר לשער הקדמה קצרה (“אל עין הקורא”) ובה רשימת “כמה מעלות” שבהוצאה הנוכחית. בין השאר נאמר שהחומש והתרגום ובפרט פירוש רש”י הוגהו “מתוך חומש של … רּ ישעיה הלוי” (הורוויץ, בעל השל”ה).

After the Hanau edition, the embedded comment in parentheses had a very strong run. I consulted my personal collection of Chumashim from the 1700’s and 1800’s and, beginning with a Chumash printed in Amsterdam in 1729 to one printed in Pressburg in 1868, 13 have the comment and 6 do not. The comment also appears in practically all the Chumashim from the 1900’s that I looked at. This might be because many of them are photo offset of what is known as the Netter Mikraot Gedolot of Vienna of 1859 which served as the model for many editions that followed.[17]

Vilna Netter 1859

It is included on the Chabad website for the portion of the week, but only on the English side!

However, many new editions such as Oz Vehadar, Mosad HaRav Kook and HaMaor (2005) do not include this parenthetical comment, a practice which returns this Rashi to its original form.[18]

 

[1] בראשית רבה י״ט: י״א