In Praise of the Soncino Talmud
By David S Farkas*

Not long ago one of our local schools hosted a Giveaway day in its library, making many of the older seforim in its considerable collection free to a good home. As expected, the local citizenry plundered and pillaged, carrying off large numbers of books, many still in quite good condition. I was only able to attend towards the end, “after the last of the gleaners had gone.”[1] Only a few scattered Siddurim and Chumashim were left, when I spotted a box in a corner of the room, filled with small red volumes. Close inspection revealed that the books were none other than the Soncino Talmud, a complete set. My heart sank a little to see this classic work, neglected and abandoned. I felt, in a small way, as though I had seen the tongue of Chutzpith the Translator lying in the dust.[2]

The Soncino Press sees no press at all these days, it seems. Its groundbreaking complete English translation of the Talmud has almost entirely been supplanted by Artscroll’s Schottenstein edition. Indeed, studying with the latter presents a very much different type of engagement with the Gemara, and Artscroll has undoubtedly done a master job of it. Yet for all of its depth and analysis, Soncino to this day brings to the table things that Artscroll does not. What follows, then, is not an attempt to sing the praises of one at the expense of the other, but only to point out some of the unique features of the now-neglected Soncino, and to suggest some of its alleged flaws may have been greatly exaggerated.[3]

To begin with, the canard so many of us heard in our yeshiva days – that Soncino was edited by less than fully-religious Jews – is a terrible misimpression that, to the best of my knowledge, seems to be based purely on the evidence that it was edited by a man named Isidore. Yet Rabbi Yechezkel Epstein (as he is in fact identified, in Hebrew, on the opposite front-page of most volumes) was very much an observant Jew, who attended the Pressburg Yeshivah founded by the Chasam Sofer, and was said to know Shas by heart. The project began with Seder Nezikin in 1935 with a heartfelt prayer to Almighty God, capped with the traditional phrase יה”ר מלפני ה’ כשם שעזרתני לסיים סדר נזיקין, כן תעזרני להתחיל סדרים אחרים ולסיימם.  It concluded in 1948, as printed in Seder Kodshim, with a heartfelt תם ונשלם שבח לבורא עולם, and the traditional Hadran written out nearly in full. We can certainly say of Soncino, if we may modify R. Yosi’s summation of Kelim, “Happy art thou, Soncino – thou began in purity, and finished in purity.”[4]

Moreover, a review of the individual contributors to each volume – a list that, to my knowledge, has never before been assembled – reveals that each and every one of them were strictly orthodox, and not identified with any other stream of Judaism.[5]

The entire series is written in the best of the King’s English. Somewhat amusingly, this itself has sometimes been offered as a reason not to use the Soncino, as though students today are incapable of understanding proper English. It is true that the series occasionally uses words no longer current (such as “dam” for a mother bird or animal, or “usufruct”.) It also actually translates Biblical or Talmudic concepts, rather than simply transliterating them, a device that has become popular today. Still, the language is eminently readable to anyone devoting to it the proper attention, and it is precisely the insistence upon proper translations that sometimes leads to a better grasp of the text.[6]

Turning to more substantive matters, one key item that jumps out is the brevity of the work. In its most compact English-only edition, the entire set – and that includes all sixty tractates, plus a full-length Index volume – comes in at a trim eighteen volumes. Even with the facing Hebrew page, the set numbers no more than 30 or 35 volumes, depending on the edition.[7] Artscroll, by contrast, which incudes only those tractates with Bavli (plus Shekalim, Eduyos, and Midos) comes in at a jaw-dropping, new-bookshelves-requiring, 73 volumes.[8]

And there is something to be said for concision. At times, when I have encountered a difficulty in the (original) text, checking with Artscroll has only made things more difficult. The Artscroll method is generally to translate or paraphrase the entirety of Rashi, and doing so in English sometimes leaves the reader confused. By contrast, Soncino tends to collapse the entirety of every question and answer into one or two lines. Keeping things short and to the point, I have found, often leads to better understanding of the basic give and take of the Gemara.

This brevity is especially important – and here is a key distinction between the two translations – for those who can learn the Gemara in the original, but either lack the time or the patience to do so. Artscroll effectively prevents the user from doing anything on his own. The text is spoon-fed to the user, and because of the interlinear format, the reader never gets entirely away from the English. Though one can go to the full Hebrew text, the Hebrew woven into the English also means users can – and do – simply use the translation.  It is quite often tedious and time consuming to read, in part because the sentences are broken up every few words, and in part because of the copious long and involved footnotes. Soncino, on the other hand, rather than leading the reader by the hand, simply gives him a head start. Quickly perusing a few English-only paragraphs provides the reader with an overview of the upcoming sugya, and allows him to go back into the regular text and then read everything on his own. In essence, it requires the reader to still go back to the traditional Hebrew text, especially if he wants to fully understand the discussion.

That, of course, might well be considered a flaw, rather than a feature. As noted by R. Gil Student, the Soncino does have “limited value in helping one understand the “sugya” (progression of ideas at large).”[9] Artscroll does an excellent job of laying out for the reader where the passage is heading, and identifying what the Gemara intends to accomplish with each step of the discussion. Soncino does none of this, expecting the student to do this on his own. In some volumes, however, the text is broken up into shorter paragraphs, which on their own help the astute reader realize the Gemara’s direction.

Footnotes help, too.  Soncino very often paraphrases Rashi, only without calling attention to the fact. Moreover, it also regularly cites traditional commentators. As noted in the Introduction, these include, in addition to Rashi, “the Tosafists, Asheri, Alfasi, Maimonides, Maharsha, the glosses of BaH, Rashal, Strashun, the Wilna Gaon, etc.” I have also seen cited Rishonim like Rabbeinu Chananel or Ritva, and Achronim like R. Yaakov Emden and R. Tzvi Hirsch Chajes. Of course, and again, in no way does it approach the information provided by Artscroll. Readers with questions will often find them addressed in the lengthy notes of Artscroll, and will even more frequently encounter issues they had never considered. For sheer depth of analysis, Artscroll stands alone. Still, it is a mistake to think that Soncino gives the reader only the bare Gemara by itself.

Yet Soncino also provides information often absent from Artscroll. As the Chief Editor wrote, while he did not attempt to secure uniformity among the several authors – more on that in a moment – he himself added footnotes in brackets containing matters of historical and geographical interest. (To be sure, R. Epstein also added in many pshat based comments, though both functions noticeably decline in frequency as the series progresses into Kodshim.)

Citations to journals like the Jewish Quarterly Review or other German-language periodicals abound. Where parallels to the Gemara exist in Josephus or Apocrypha like Ben Sira, we are informed.  Likewise, parallels in Greek and Roman sources are also frequently noted.[10] Most place names are identified via Obermeyer’s 1929 geographical guide to Talmudic Babylon. Textural variants from the Septuagint are sometimes noted. Herford is also cited on anything that relates to Christianity, though, it may be said, Soncino displays somewhat of an obsession on this topic, and often perceives statements of the sages to be a disguised polemic, with very little justification.[11]

Each of the six Sedarim has its own introduction. The introductions to each of the individual volumes contain very useful summaries of the topic of each chapter, an important feature for learning the Talmud (and quite helpful for review), where the forest can easily be lost sight of. An appendix to Gittin gives what I believe to still be the best short summation of the Talmudic-era medicine described in the 7^th chapter of that Masechta, as well as a similar lengthy passage in Avoda Zara. In one of the volumes (Eruvin) diagrams are gamely used, though the technology of the time did not permit anything much more than rudimentary line drawing and shading. Similarly, the anatomical skeleton of an ox is presented in Chulin.

I noted above that the editor did not seek to achieve uniformity of style, and the uneven quality shows. Some volumes are simply better than others. In one or two cases the translation can only be called wooden, and the notes do little more than add an emphatic “Surely not!” after obviously rhetorical questions. Happily, though, in most cases the individuality of the authors accrues to the benefit of the overall translation, providing different perspectives and viewpoints. Thus, for example, the translations of Chulin and Menachos done by Eli Cashdan, a European-born Talmid Chacham of note, are particularly lucid and clear. The translation to Moed Kattan by Dayan Lazarus preserves the poetry of the original in the elegies of the third chapter by translating them into English poetry, in the classic British style of Israel Zangwill and Nina Salaman,[12] The work to the first half of Kesubos by Samuel Daiches, the only barrister at law to participate in the series (though also an ordained rabbi), is particularly rich with citations to both Roman Cannon law and English jurisprudence.[13] And a number of these highly-educated authors find parallels in Talmudic sayings to classics of literature. [14]

In short, there is much to say in favor of the Soncino Talmud. It contains many gems of scholarship and interpretation, some of them not found, to my knowledge, in any other sources. If it is not perfect – no translation ever is – it is far better than it is often given credit for. The Soncino Talmud was, and fill forever remain, a landmark of Torah literature. To echo (via paraphrase) the words of Dr. Shnayer Leiman in these pages a number of years ago, said in connection with a different classic series thought to be out of date: “Hold on to your Soncino Talmuds! Public libraries and private collectors will do well to retain them and keep them precisely on the same shelves they have now occupied these many years.”[15]

Note from the Seforim Blog editors: Prof. Saul Lieberman refers to “responsible English translations of rabbinic texts (like those of Soncino Press)” at the end of his classic poison-pen review of Jacob Neusner’s acumen as a talmudic translator. See Lieberman, Saul. “A Tragedy or a Comedy?” Journal of the American Oriental Society, vol. 104, no. 2, 1984, pp. 315–319.

* 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 a large energy company.   

[1] See Peah 8:1, Bava Metzia 21b

[2] See Chulin 142b.

[3] I have used the device of contrasting with Artscroll to highlight certain aspects of the Soncino. It should be self-understood that these points of preference are in no way intended to derogate that outstanding work, which enjoys deserved worldwide popularity. In the same vein, I use Artscroll as a contrast simply because of its wide-spread use, and not from any intent to disregard the also excellent Koren and Steinsaltz editions.

[4] The foreword and epilogue to the set – what we might today call הסכמות – contain similar sentiment. They are cited, along with brief comments on the Soncino series, in Words, Meaning, and Spirit: The Talmud in Translation (A. Mintz, Torah U’Maddah Journal 1995).

[5] The Complete list of Contributors to the Gemara include the following Rabbis, Doctors, and Misters, in alphabetical order: I. Abraham (Chagigah); Eli Cashdan (Menachos, Chulin); Abraham Cohen (Sotah, Avoda Zara); Samuel Daiches (Kesubos); H. Freedman (Sabbath, Pesachim, Nedarim, Kiddushin, Bava Metzia, Sanhedrin, Zevachim); M. Ginsberg (Betzah); L. Jung (Yoma, Arachin); E. W. Kirzner (Bava Kama); B. D. Klein (Nazir); L. Miller (Bechoros, Temurah); I. Porusch (Kerisos, Meilah); J. Rabinowitz (Taanis)  Jacob Shachter (Sanhedrin) H. M. Lazarus (Moed Kattan, Makkos); A. E. Silverstone (Shevuous);  Maurice Simon (Brachos, Eruvin, Rosh Hashana, Megilah, Gittin, Bava Basra, Bechoros, Tamid); and Israel Slotki (Sukah, Yevamos, Horayos, Bava Basra, Nidah).

The additional Mishnayos were translated by the aforementioned Israel Slotki, and Rabbis/Dcotors H. Bornstein, Phillip Cohen, Isidore Fishman, J. Israelstam, S. M. Lerhrman, and M. H. Segal.

Biographical data is available for many of these figures in Encyclopedia Judaica or Wikipedia. Information can also be found in the Jewish Communities and Records of the United Kingdom database, by clicking on the “rabbinic profiles” tab. (Available here: https://www.jewishgen.org/jcr-uk/Profiles) Note that all the figures listed here are found in the section designated for Orthodox Ministers & Cantors.

I am grateful to Dr. Marc Shapiro, who provided me with very interesting information on some of these men, and who also referred me to Rabbi Benjamin Elton, of the Great Synagogue in Australia, who likewise did the same. R. Elton, in turn, referred me to Professor David Newman, who sent me some photographs of some of the contributors – looking very rabbinic indeed.

[6] This is particularly true for the realia of the Gemara. See for example Pesachim 37a, סריקין מצויירין  which Soncino translates as “Syrian cakes”, but Artscroll transliterates as “decorated Sirikin”; Yoma 38a נחושת קלוניתא which to Soncino is Corinthian Bronze, but to Artscroll, “refined copper.”; In Moed Kattan 27a, in the context of items a mourner may sit upon, such as the chair or ground, אודייני גדולה is listed and translated by Artscroll simply as a “large mortar”, with no additional comment. Soncino translates it as “a large bench for water jugs”, footnoting to the Roman Uranariun and showing the term in parallel passages as אורנריי. Many such examples can be cited.

[7] For more on these different editions see Words, A. Mintz, Id., at fn. 49.

[8] Though this set too, now looks small, compared to the complete Hebrew-language Mesivta edition – a stupendous 136 volumes.

[9] “Tackling the Talmud: One Daf at a Time” (Jewish Action, Fall 2012)

[10] See for example Nazir 4b, showing parallels to the story described therein to the tale of Narcissus found in Ovid.

[11] See, for example, the Commentary to Sukkah 5a, Nedarim 38a and 64b. (I hasten to add, as someone once observed, “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.” I myself recently wrote, of a Mishna in Beitzah, that it too, contained a hitherto unnoticed reference to Christianity. See my article Of Fish and Fishermen: An Unknown Christian Passage in the Talmud (Tradition 52:3 2020).)

[12] See also his nifty rendering of the phrase found there on 9b בת שיתין כבת שית לקל טבלא רהטא : “As sixty as six: the sound of a timbrel makes her nimble.”

[13] See there, for example, 17b and 20a.

[14] See Chagigah 13b, in connection with Sandalphon, referencing Longfellow’s similarly named poem; Avoda Zara 4a, comparing R. Chanina’s advice to pray for the government for without it men would swallow each other alive to a phrase in Shakespeare’s Coriolanus.

[15] The New Encyclopedia Judaica: Some Preliminary Observations. (Shnayer Leiman, Seforim Blog, June 5, 2007)

The Palestinian setting of the book is also fictional, and, in the main, has no basis in fact. The Zohar relies on geographical and topographical ideas about Palestine taken from older literature. Sometimes the author did not understand his sources, and created places which never existed, e.g., Kapotkeya, as the name of a village near Sepphoris, on the basis of a statement in the Jerusalem Talmud (Shev. 9:5), which he combined with another statement in the Tosefta, Yevamot 4. He produces a village in Galilee by the name of Kefar Tarshi, which he identifies with Mata Meḥasya, and tells in this connection of the rite of circumcision which is based on material quoted in geonic literature with regard to Mata Meḥasya in Babylonia. Occasionally a place-name is based on a corrupt text in a medieval manuscript of the Talmud, e.g., Migdal Ẓor at the beginning of Sava de-Mishpatim. In the matter of scene and characters there are very close links between the main body of the Zohar and the stratum of the Midrash ha-Ne’lam, which follows the same path of mentioning places which do not actually exist. In this section Simeon b. Yoḥai and his companions already constitute a most important community of mystics, but other groups are mentioned as well, and particularly later amoraim or scholars with fictitious names who do not reappear in the Zohar. In recent times, several attempts have been made to explain the geographical difficulties, and to give a non-literal interpretation of statements in the Talmud and the Midrashim in order to make them fit the Zohar, but they have not been convincing.

Zafenat Pane’ah—A Further Example in the Titling of Hebrew Books
by Marvin J. Heller[1]

Pharaoh called Joseph’s name Zafenat Pane’ah and he gave him Asenath daughter of Poti-phera, chief of On, for a wife. Thus Joseph emerged over the land of Egypt (Genesis 41:45). Zafenat: Zafenat Pane’ah. This name means decipherer of the cryptic (revealer of secrets). There is nothing similar to pane’ah in Scripture (Rashi).

The titling of Hebrew books is a beguiling subject. It has been addressed in several works and I too have addressed the subject in a number of articles. My articles differ, however, from the other studies which are concerned with the titling of books in an overview or general manner, that is, in the manner in which books are titled.[2]

Hebrew book titles often do not reflect the contents of a book, for as Dr. Joshua Bloch observes, that among the most curious characteristics of Hebrew books is that titles “frequently conceal the contents of important works which might otherwise be consulted in the course of research.” As an example, he quotes “Isaac Samuel Reggio (1784-1855), an eminent Italo-Jewish scholar, in his edition of the Behinot HaDaat (Examination of Religion) by Elijah Del Medigo (1460-1497), significantly observed that the book in addition to its other good qualities carries a title corresponding to its contents – a distinction rare among Hebrew books.”

In contrast, my articles explore the various and multiple uses of single titles, themed book titles, as well as titles from Shir ha-Shirim (Song of Songs).[3] In these cases, as Bloch observed, the subject of the book is not immediately obvious from the book title, indeed it might be considered concealed. This article focuses on a title from a unique biblical verse, employing a name that implies cryptic meaning, making its employ by varied books all the more intriguing.

The books with the cryptic title we are concerned with are entitled Zafenat Pane’ah, from the verse noted above “Pharaoh called Joseph’s name Zafenat Pane’ah.” Sixteen varied books, as well as two books with the expanded title Ẓafenat Pane’aḥ Hadash, are recorded in the Bet Eked Sefarim, a bibliography of titles set in Hebrew letters printed from 1474 through 1950.[4] In addition to the works recorded in the Bet Eked Sefarim there have been several additional printings of books with that title as well as books printed under other titles that are composites of several works, some including parts entitled Ẓafenat Pane’aḥ or with subsections or commentaries so entitled.

The examples of books entitled Ẓafenat Pane’aḥ follows, in chronological order, in two parts. The first part is comprised of expansive descriptions of books with our title, the second is concise descriptions of examples of other works with our subject title. In neither case are the titles to be considered comprehensive but rather an example of the varied and expansive uses made by authors in entitling their books Ẓafenat Pane’aḥ.

I

Abraham Menahem Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport) Ashkenazi, Sabbioneta , 1555: Our first title, appropriately enough, is a work on cryptography by R. Abraham Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport) Ashkenazi, 1520-c.1594). Abraham Menahem served as rabbi in Verona, as well as heading a famed yeshiva in that location. Prior to accepting his rabbinic position, Abraham Menahem studied secular as well as rabbinic subjects, particularly medicine, and worked as an editor in Hebrew print-shops. His wide scholarship is evident from his other works, particularly his Torah commentary based on Midrashim, Minhah Belulah (Verona, 1594).

1555, Zafenat Pane’ah Abraham Menahem ha-Kohen Rapaport
Courtesy of the Jewish Theological Seminary 

1555, Zafenat Pane’ah
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Abraham Menahem spent two years preparing Zafenat Pane’ah. It is a small work, actually a small booklet, described as either a duodecimo (12⁰) or an octavo (8⁰) consisting of [6ff]. In the absence of the place of publication, locations such as Venice (Steinschneider), Ferrara (BenJacob), and Sabbioneta (Sonne) have been suggested. Avraham Yaari, following Sonne, records Zafenat Pane’ah as a Sabbioneta imprint, including it among the books published by the Foa press in that location.[5] The National Library of Israel records Zafenat Pane’ah, giving the location as Sabbioneta but also notes Riva di Trento as a possible place of publication.[6]

The title-page, perchance intentionally cryptic, does not identify the publisher, place of printing, or author, although the latter is evident from the text. Zafenat Pane’ah was, as noted above, published as a small booklet. The text of the title-page, again, lacking the date and place of publication, as well as having no ornamentation, states,

“See, this is new!” (Ecclesiastes 1:10); “In a levelled way” (cf. Jeremiah 18:15); “that they should do according to every man’s pleasure” (Esther 1:8); to write letters to one’s companion as a sealed book that will not be intelligible to those who see it. Even if alien eyes peruse the writing, in this manner it will be a great marvel, that tens of thousands of men all together should write in this way, that one should not understand the thinking of his companion. Even if “all go to one place” (Ecclesiastes 3:20) and hew from one quarry, something impossible to be heard and from intelligence withheld. If not after searching this page, confirming its great benefit as “your eyes uphold righteousness” (cf. Psalms 17:2).

The title-page is followed by Abraham Menahem’s lengthy effusive dedication to his uncle, R. Jacob Mugil, in which he also discusses the need for and value of cryptography, concluding with the date Tuesday, 15 October, 1555, Venice, signed Menahem of Porto. Next is a brief introduction in which the rules of encryption are discussed. He writes that there should be a sign between the writer and the recipient, whether in Hebrew, Ashkenaz, or whichever language the writer chooses, and it does not matter if the signs are numerous or few in number. “‘One who does much sacrifice and one who does less, as long as’ (Berakhot 5a, 17b) he places one letter with another as I will explain.” After some brief instructions on spacing Abraham Menahem signs his name as Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen from Porto.

Abraham Menahem’s name follows given in a bold, brief statement referring to the coding of his name, and, also in bold letters, the verse “If you had not plowed with my heifer, you would not have found out my riddle,” (Judges 14:18 ) This is followed by an example, in which Porto’s name appears as Menahem bar Jacob ha-Kohen mi-Porto, followed by the verse. His name is then spelled out over the verse as an encryption example. The text follows, discussing the subject of cryptography.[7]

Abraham Menahem was an eyewitness to the burning of the Talmud in Venice in 1553, which tragic event is reported in the Minhah Belulah, on the phrase “. . . a fiery law unto them,” (Deuteronomy 33:2), where he writes “I fixed these days for myself, for each and every year, for fasting, weeping, and mourning, for this day was as bitter for me as the burning of the House of our God (the Temple).

Anonymous, Prague, [1617]: Our second Zafenat Pane’ah, also a small work, is a very different type of book from Abraham Menahem’s Zafenat Pane’ah. This Zafenat Pane’ah is an alphabetical listing of the chapter heads of Mishnayot in the Babylonian Talmud. It was published at the press of Moses ben Joseph Bezalel Katz in Prague ([1617]) as a quarto (4⁰: 4 ff.). Neither the compiler’s name nor the date are given, the latter being an estimate only. The anonymous author provides a detailed title page in lieu of an introduction, writing:

1617, Zafenat Pane’ah, Prague
Courtesy of the Jewish National and University Library

“O taste and see” (Psalms 34:9) this book, small in size but of great value. “The bed is too short” (cf. Isaiah 28:20) the presentation is long. Many run to and fro, seeking but do not find, “for it was not seen to this day” (I Kings 10:12). How do I think to reset that “which the early ones marked out” (cf. Deuteronomy 19:14), to establish markers and to wrap myself in a tallit stolen from its owner. Who is the man who would think so, to think of me an unfit thought, that I draw waters that are not mine, and I had already “hidden myself among the baggage” (I Samuel 10:22) to avoid the complaints of the mockers. However, the majority urgings of my associates and their desire convinced me to fulfill their requests, because “He who withholds grain [the people will curse him]” (Proverbs 11:26). As not everyone is able to acquire every book which is included and mentioned in this work, all is included here, and whatever time would be lost in trying to locate whichever chapter in all of the books, for it is a spread table (shulhan arukh) with all the savory food from which all the house of Jacob will be fed and nurtured. And I say concerning it, “fortunate is he who comes here and has the learning of all his books is in his hand” (cf. Pesahim 50a, Mo’ed Katan 28a, Ketubbot 77b, Bava Batra 10b). . . .

He concludes that that it is Zafenat Pane’ah (revealer of secrets, Genesis 41:45) for it reveals that which is hidden in the hearts of man. One should acquire this book, honor the Lord, and merit to see the coming of the Messiah speedily in our day.

The text follows in three columns in square letters. Each entry is comprised of the initial words of the first Mishnah in a chapter, the chapter umber, and the tractate name, arranged alphabetically by the first word in a Mishnah. At the end of the volume is a brief colophon summarizing the contents.

Joseph di Trani’s (Maharit), Venice, 1648: In 1648, the Venentian Vedramin press published a folio (2⁰: [2], 236, 13 ff.) edition of R. Joseph ben Moses di Trani’s (Maharit, 1568–1639) discourses on the weekly Torah portion and festivals, entitled Zafenat Pane’ah. Trani was born in Safed under auspicious signs. On the night that he was born R. Moses Alshekh reputedly saw a great light over his house; his name was selected prior to his birth by R. Moses Cordevoro; his father noted that the year of his birth equaled איש חי (329 = late 1568; a valiant man, II Samuel 23:20), and he received a blessing from R. Joseph Caro prior to the latter’s death. Plague forced him to leave Safed for Egypt, returning, spending some time in Damascus and Jerusalem, but, by 1594 in Safed for an extended period of time where he headed a yeshivah. In 1599, he was sent as an emissary from Safed to Constantinople, and after a second visit, in 1604, heading a yeshivah, and eventually becoming chief rabbi. Among his students were R. Hayyim Benveniste, R. Joshua Benveniste, R. Hayyim Algazi, and R. Solomon ha-Levi.

The title page says that it is Zafenat Pane’ah, “satisfied with favor, and full of” (Deuteronomy 33:23) discourses on the Torah, updated, that were written and corrected by the great man . . . Printed “In the year of this הזאת (5408 = 1648) jubilee you shall return” (Leviticus 25:13).

The title page is followed by two quatrains of verse from the author’s son, R. Moses di Trani, with the heading, “I am the poorest of the poor” (cf. Judges 6:15) “my mouth shall praise you with joyful lips” (Psalms 63:6). Next is Moses’ introduction, the introduction of R. Yom Tov ben Yaish, and verse in praise of the author from his young pupil R. Isaac Alankowa, each paragraph beginning with the word kol (voice), all in a single column in rabbinic letters. At the end of the volume is the introduction of the second editor, R. Jacob ben Moses ha-Levi. The last introduction is printed twice, once with and once without Moses’ name and with variant headings. Zafenat Pane’ah concludes with indexes of verses, Midrashim, and rabbinic sayings. In his introduction Moses begins paragraphs two through nine with the phrase “before the light of the Torah became submerged” due to the destruction of the first Temple; decrees of the wicked Greek kings; destruction of the second Temple; etc. The following ten paragraphs begin “This” is in praise of his father and his work.

1648, Zafenat Pane’ah, Joseph ben Moses di Trani (Maharit), Venice
Courtesy of the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad Ohel Yosef Yitzhak

Zafenat Pane’ah is comprised of two to three sermons on each parashah and on festivals. Each homily begins with a quote from a Midrash or equivalent source in square letters, which is then explicated. Sources are given in the margins. The only decorative material is the frame about the heading of the first discourse and a design after the introduction of Jacob ben Moses with his name.

This is the only edition of Zafenat Pane’ah. Other works, excepting di Trani’s responsa and novellae, are no longer extant.

Samuel ha-Kohen di Pisa Lusitano, Venice, 1656: Controversial commentary on the difficult passages in the books of Ecclesiastes and Job by R. Samuel ha-Kohen di Pisa Lusitano (16th-17th cent.). Printed as a quarto (4⁰: [4], 3-33 (should say 31) ff.) in 1656 by the Vendramin press in Venice, this is the only edition of this Zafenat Pa‘ane’ah, the only work of Lusitano, a scholar of Portuguese origin. The title, appropriately, reflects Lusitano’s purpose, to be, appropriately enough for our title, a revealer of secrets (Rashi on Genesis 41:45). Zafenat Pane’ah’s title page states that it is “on the unusual terms in Ecclesiastes and an explanation of Job, ‘a blameless and upright man, one who fears God and turns away from evil’ (Job 1:1, 8, 2:3). Also included are correct allusions on the precept of Parah Adumah (red heifer, Numbers 19:2).”

1656, Zafenat Pa‘ane’ah, Samuel ha-Kohen di Pisa Lusitano, Venice
Courtesy of Virtual Judaica

The title page is dated in the month Sivan in the year 416 (1656). Nevertheless, some bibliographic works, such as the Hebrew Bibliographic Project, based on references in the text, record it as a [1640] imprint. There are several pages of verse (2a-4a) in praise of the book by R. Leone (Judah Aryeh) Modena, R. Jacob ben Moses Levi, יא”ק (R. Joshua Abraham Kalimoni), אמ”ט (I, Moses Treibush of the seed of Jacob), and R. Jacob ben Abraham Shalom, nephew of Lusitano. Next is a warm letter ([4b]-4a) to Lusitano from R. Simhah Luzzatto, who raises the question of whether Job, at the time of his afflictions, denied reincarnation. Lusitano’s brief introduction (4b) follows, in which he notes that it is incumbent upon every Jew to learn Torah and to delve into the books of the Bible. He has turned to the works of “the sage Solomon” in the deep work Ecclesiastes and portions of Job and also to the precept of Parah Adumah. It is not Lusitano’s intent to bring novel interpretations but to elucidate the explanations of the sages.

Zafenat Pane’ah, in a single column in rabbinic letters, is divided into fourteen chapters, one through seven on Ecclesiastes, eight through thirteen on Job, and fourteen on Parah Adumah. Several chapters deal with the Messiah, or other controversial subjects: for example, 2) the time of the Messiah, 3) whether a person born after his coming will die, 4) if after reincarnation the Lord will renew the world in such a manner that they will be angels, 8) whether Job is Job ben Issachar ben Jacob, and 11) allusions to Leviathan on the war of Gog and Megog and whether the Lord revealed to Job his ways, wisdom, and knowledge.

Lusitano’s positions, particularly on reincarnation, incurred opposition from several rabbis. Most notable is R. Samuel Aboab (1610-94), who in his responsa, Devar Shemu’el (Venice, 1702), writes that when he saw the manuscript of Zafenat Pane’ah he was greatly pained and wrote to Lusitano attempting to prevent its publication. Attempting to explain the coming of the Messiah and reincarnation from the verses in Ecclesiastes is like attempting to “make an elephant pass through the eye of a needle” (Berakhot 55b) and attempting to determine these times is in opposition to the Rambam. Worst of all, he endangers the people by confirming that for this generation is written the end of days and Moses’ promise of redemption.

Joseph (Ashkenazi), Frankfurt on the Oder, 1693-94: Zafenat Pane’ah Hadash, homilies on diverse subjects by R. Joseph ben Moses (Ashkenazi), darshan of Przemyslany and rabbi and dayyan in that location (17th cent.) was printed in Frankfurt on the Oder in 1693-94 at the press of Michael Gottschalk as a quarto (4⁰: 60 ff.). Joseph ben Moses was also the author of Keter Torah (Berlin, 1699), and a commentary on the Haggadah included in Haluka de-Rabbanan (Amsterdam, 1695). The title page describes it as:

Discourses, pleasing and delightful, a “work well set” (cf. Isaiah 3:24), a work of great sharpness, “more precious than fine gold” (cf. Isaiah 13:12) and pearls. His Torah was expounded with forty-nine faces, and within each and every entry you will find many views. Written by the great rav, the darshan of Przemyslany, R. Joseph ben Moses, grandson of the gaon R. Abraham Ashkenazi, descended from Rashi, son-in-law of R. Naphtali of Przemyslany, and author of Ketonet Passim.

Beginning of work is dated to Tuesday, the day that it states two times “it was good טוב (15)” (Genesis 1:10, 12) Kislev “And Pharaoh called Joseph’s name Zafenat-Pane’ah (he who explains what is hidden) שם יוסף צפנת פענח (454 = December 5, 1693)” (Genesis 41:45). The colophon (59b) dates completion of the work to Thursday, 2 Shevat, “One law shall be for him who is native born, and for the stranger who sojourns among you תורה אחת יהיה לאזרח ולגר הגר בתוככם (454 = January 28, 1694)” (Exodus 12:49). There is an approbation signed by nine rabbis from the Va’ad Arba Aratzot (1b); Joseph’s introduction (1b-2b), beginning that the Torah is expounded in 49 ways and concluding that the book is named Zafenat Pane’ah for it reveals that which is concealed; the text (3a-59b) in two columns in rabbinic letters; concluding with errata (60a-b) and a list of abbreviations (60b).

Zafenat Pane’ah Hadash is comprised of 60 discourses on diverse subjects, most discourses addressed in several homilies, varying in number from one homily (17 discourses) to sixteen (1) entries and in length from several pages to brief paragraphs The subjects are Adam and Hava, explained in sixteen entries; Patriarchs and Matriarchs; Eretz Israel; first-born; creation; blessing; exile and redemption; robbery; redemption and David (15 Shir ha-Ma’alot); judgment, mercy, and David; hekdesh; confession and repentance; merit and obligation; sin and punishment; tohorah and tuma; Jacob and tribulation; Judah, yibum and halizah; priesthood; honor of Torah and Torah scholars; honor, praise, and rising; learning the written and oral Torahs; Mizraim; Tabernacle and Temple; Moses and Aaron; flood and dispersion; angels; damages, marital property (melog and zon barzel); marriage and divorce; Sodom and Gomorrah; Sanhedrin; witnesses; slaves; Pesah, removal of hamez; Pharaoh and Mizraim; zaddikim; curse and blessing; Korah and his assembly; Cain and Abel and the splitting of the Reed Sea; Kri’at Shema; betrothal; considerable possessions; the wicked; Shabbat; representatives; tribes; oaths; reward and punishment; reward of mitzvah and Torah; resurrection; repentance; and terumot and ma’aserot.

1693-94, Tzofnat Pa’aneah Hadash, Joseph ben Moses of Przemyslany, Frankfurt am Oder
Courtesy of the Society for the Preservation of Hebrew Books

The title-page has an elaborate pillared form comprised of two cherubim at the top blowing horns and at the bottom an eagle with spread wings. Within the wings is a carriage and figures, and in the middle of this scenario is a depiction of the Patriarch Jacob meeting Joseph in Egypt, recalling “And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up to meet Israel his father, to Goshen, and presented himself to him; and he fell on his neck, and wept on his neck a good while” (Genesis 46:29).[8]

Jacob Joseph ha-Kohen Katz, Koretz, 1782: A commentary on Exodus by R. Jacob Joseph ben Zevi ha-Kohen Katz of Polonnoye (d. c. 1782). Among the foremost disciples of the Baal Shem Tov, Jacob Joseph was a scion of the kabbalists R. Samson ben Pesah of Ostropol (Ostropoler, d. 1648) and R, Joseph Katz (17^th century), and of R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller (1579–1654). Jacob Joseph’s most famous work is Toledot Ya’akov Yosef (Korets, 1780), discourses on the weekly Torah readings and the first Hassidic book to be published.[9]

1782, Zafenat Pa‘ane’ah, Jacob Joseph of Polonnoye, Koretz
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Jacob Joseph’s Zafenat Pane’ah was printed in Koretz ([1] 35 ff.) at the press of Tsevi Hirsh ben Aryeh Leib Margolis (Margoliot), the first of two of Jacob Joseph’s works printed there at this time. Zafenat Pane’ah was preceded by Ben Porat Yosef (1781), on Genesis. The title-page, dated “How abundant is the good that You have in store [for those who fear You] מה רב טובך אשר צפנת (542 = 1782)” (Psalms 31:20) references Jacob Joseph, noting his Toledot Ya’akov Yosef and refers to the man of God, ISRAEL [Ba’al Shem Tov], informing that it was brought to press by his, Jacob Joseph’s, son-in-law R. Abraham Dov Ber, av bet din Hamaltzik.

The title-page is followed by the introduction which has an interesting and unusual heading, stating that the introduction to this work “has been printed before, twice in two of the author’s books, and is included here so as not to have a blank page. Printed here is an omission from Parasha Ki Sisa (Exodus 30:11-34:35).” It is not only the introductions that are alike, for Ya’aḳov Shemuʼel Shpigel informs that the title-page of Zafenat Pane’ah and Ben Porat Yosef, are also alike. He suggests that Jacob Joseph was not present and it is difficult to know who was responsible for the title-pages. Shpigel does note, however, that the reference to Jacob Joseph’s son-in-law is modified and either he or the printer might be responsible. The reference to the Ba’al Shem Tov is unchanged.[10]

Jedaiah ben Abraham Bedersi (Ha-Penini); Isaac Eisig ben Isaiah Auerbach (Reis) 1797: Classical ethical work, Beḥinat Olam (Examination of the World), by R. Jedaiah ben Abraham Bedersi (Ha-Penini, c. 1280 – c. 1340) with the commentary Zafenat Pane’ah by R. Isaac Eisig ben Isaiah Auerbach (Reis, early 18^th century). A popular work, the Bet Eked Sefarim records as many as many as seventy-three printings of Beḥinat Olam, including editions with varied commentaries, three with Zafenat Pane’ah.[11] This printing of Beḥinat Olam, with the commentary Zafenat Pane’ah, was published in Brunn at the press of Joseph Karl Neiman as an octavo (8⁰: 45 ff.). It was preceded by a Sulzbach edition (1744). Parenthetically, Beḥinat Olam was first printed in Mantua in 1478. This is the twenty-fifth edition of that work.

Jedaiah ben Abraham Bedersi (Ha-Penini), was a poet, physician, and philosopher. Among the other works credited to him is Baḳḳashat ha-Memim (The Mem Prayer) composed when he was fifteen. A versified prayer of 1,000 words each of which begins with the letter mem. He also wrote a commentary on the Haggadah, Ohev Nashim (In Defense of Women), Sefer ha-Pardes on such various subjects as isolation, worship, science, and grammar. Beḥinat Olam, Bedersi’s best known work, written after the expulsion of the Jews from France in 1306, is a versified examination, in thirty-seven chapters, of the vicissitudes and vanities of life, with religious and philosophical insights.

This Zafenat Pane’ah is a commentary on Beḥinat Olam by Isaac Eisig ben Isaiah Auerbach. Auerbach was a German grammarian and commentator. He was the author of several books on Hebrew grammar, reputedly motivated by his inability to understand Rashi, causing him to study philology. He eventually wrote Be’er Reḥovot (Sulzbach, 1730), a commentary on the Rashi on the Torah. He was the author of this Zafenat Pane’ah, a Yiddish translation and adaptation of Beḥinat Olam.[12]

1789, Beḥinat Olam with Zafenat Pane’ah, Brunn
Courtesy of the Jewish National and University Library

The title-page is followed by Auerbach’s introduction in which, at both the beginning and the end he describes Zafenat Pane’ah as being an explanation and interpretation (Zafenat Pane’ah). It is followed by the text which is in two columns, the inner columns the text of Beḥinat Olam in square vocalized letters, the outer column Zafenat Pane’ah set in Yiddish in Vaybertaytsh, a type generally but not exclusively reserved for Yiddish books, so named because these works were most often read by the less educated and women.[13]

II

Zafenat Pane’ah, as noted above, is an intriguing title for a book. Based on the rare appearance of the verse “Pharaoh called Joseph’s name Zafenat Pane’ah . . . (decipherer of the cryptic (revealer of secrets), a name that appears once only in the Bible. Zafenat Pane’ah is a name of Egyptian origin, it being the name given by Pharoah to Joseph, albeit one recognizing his rare ability to decipher Pharoah’s dreams. As a title, Zafenat Pane’ah has had an allure for authors. Of the books described above one only deals with cryptography, while several of the first group of books’ authors are named Joseph. Perhaps the allure of the name, Zafenat Pane’ah, decipherer of the cryptic (revealer of secrets) is seen by the authors as being applicable to their works, finding meaning in their interpretations of obscure passages in scriptures and other challenging works.

Our Zafenat Pane’ahs, the subject matter of this article, are early printings. It is important to note that later publications with our title, beyond the scope of this article, while not addressed in any detail, are also of interest. Indeed, note should be taken that several of these later works are, valuable and noteworthy. Below are concise examples of several later works entitled Zafenat Pane’ah

R. Elijah Guttmacher (1795–1874), a student of both Kabbalah and general studies, served as rabbi in Pleschen and Grodzisk Wielkopolski, attracting followers who came to him for amulets, cures, and guidance. He was unusual, in contrast to both Orthodox and assimilationist rabbis, in being a supporter of the Ḥibbat Zion movement. Author of works on Mishnayot and the Talmud, Guttmacher’s titles also include a Zafenat Pane’ah (Brody, 1875, below) “devoted to the tales of Rabbah b. Ḥana as told in Bava Batra.”[14] R. Saul Nathan Nathansohn, in his approbation to this work, writes that Zafenat Pane’ah is so entitled because it is an explanation of the aggadah of Rabbah bar Ḥana which is “obscure and sealed,” all the earlier geonim put their hearts to elucidating it and even the Vilna Gaon wrote a commentary on it.

A sad, tragic Zafenat Pane’ah is the eulogy by R. Asher Nissan ben Judah Leib Levinsohn for his only son, R. Menahem Nahum Nathan. Printed in Vilna (1875), the title-page describes Menahem Nahum Nathan as a gaon, gadol, and sage, and informs that Asher Nissan was the author of such works as Gan Ne’ul, Afikei Yehudah, and Likkutei Shoshanim. In a preface to the reader, Asher Nissan informs that he has entitled the eulogy Zafenat Pane’ah “Because his name is becoming נאה to him and he is becoming to his name, for my son, the gaon.”

Among the later editions of Zafenat Pane’ah are several books entitled Zafenat Pane’ah by the illustrious R. Joseph Rozin (Rosen, Rogachover, 1858–1936). A prolific author, all of his numerous and varied works on the Torah, Talmud, Rambam, and responsa have the title Zafenat Pane’ah.[15]

Our final Zafenat Pane’ah is a commentary on the Torah and festivals by R. Pinchas Shapira ben Shalom, published in Jerusalem (1964). A resident of Kozakonyha, Marmaros from from 1905, he was deported by the Hungarians during World War I to Galicia, settling, in 1918, in Felsovisso. He perished in the Holocaust.[16] His Zafenat Pane’ah was published by his son-in-law, R. Menahem Mendel Taub, the Kaliver rebbe. In the introduction Pinchas Shapira writes that he has entitled this work Zafenat Pane’ah because it alludes to his name and to the names of his father and of his mother. The initial numerical values of Zafenat Pane’ah צפנת פענח are, together with the number of its letters and general number (828 + 8 + 1 = 837), equal to Pinchas פינחס (208) ben במוה”ר (253) Shalom שלום (376 = 837). A second example is Pinchas פינחס ben Hanna Sarah בן חנה שרה (208 + 620 = 828).

III

Our Zafenat Pane’ahs and a [Hadash], noted both in some detail and concisely, encompass such varied subjects as cryptography, an alphabetical listing of Mishnayot chapter heads, biblical interpretations, a eulogy, an ethical work, and other diverse subjects. All reflecting the authors’ concerns with clarifying, making clear, that which is not clear, not immediately obvious without insightful interpretation. What then, could be more appropriate than the title Zafenat Pane’ah, “decipherer of the cryptic (revealer of secrets)”?

1875, Zafenat Pa‘ane’ah, Elijah Guttmacher, Berlin
Courtesy of Ozar ha-Hachms

Sukkah 4a “What’s Wrong with This Picture?”

By Eli Genauer

This post is is l’zecher nishmas my uncle and rebbe, Rabbi Sam Genauer ZT”L whose yahrtzeit is the second day of Av. Rabbi Genauer was a talmid of Rabbi Moshe Soloveichik at RIETS.

מסכת סוכה ד׳ עמוד א׳

The maximum height of a Sukkah is twenty Amot. The Gemara discusses a situation where the Sukkah is slightly more than twenty Amot high and one builds a raised platform inside the Sukkah.

היתה גבוהה מעשרים אמה ובנה בה איצטבא כנגד דופן האמצעי על פני כולה ויש בה הכשר סוכה כשרה

If a Sukkah was more than twenty Amot high and one built a platform (איצטבא) in it opposite the middle wall, and the platform (איצטבא) is the minimum area required for a Sukkah to be kosher, (7 Tefachim by 7 Tefachim) the Sukkah is kosher

ומן הצד, אם יש משפת איצטבא לכותל ד׳ אמות, פסולה, פחות מארבע אמות ,כשר.

And along the side wall: If there are four (or more) Amot from the edge of the platform to the opposite wall, it is Pasul. However, if there are less than four Amot, it is kosher

The Vilna Shas has two pictures embedded within the text of the Gemara which illustrate these cases. The first picture illustrates the case of איצטבא כנגד דופן האמצעי על פני כולה and the second picture illustrates the case of מן הצד איצטבא.

Updated Illustration in Vilna HaChadash (2006)

Were these two pictures part of the original text of the Talmud as written down by Rav Ami and Rav Asi?

The website Hachi Garsinan which belongs to the Freidberg Manuscript Society (https://bavli.genizah.org/?lan=heb&isPartial=False&isDoubleLogin=False) has a number of manuscripts of Gemarah Sukkah and none of them have these diagrams included within the text. They include:

British Library Harley 5508
Munich Codex heb. 140
Munich Codex heb. 95
JTS Rab. 218, JTS Rab. 1608
Oxford heb. 2. 51

It is extremely unlikely that any other written manuscript of this section of Talmud contained these two images.[1]

Nevertheless, we do get the impression from the Vilna Shas that these diagrams are part of the body of the Gemara.

The Vilna HaChadash edition (2006) even ties the two modified pictures 1) and 2) to specific words in the Gemara.

Where do these two pictures belong, if not in the body of the Gemara text?

It turns out that there are three sources (a manuscript, the Dfus Rishon of Soncino Pesaro, and Chochmat Shlomo) which point to these illustrations properly being included in Rashi’s commentary. We will then look at how they ended up in the text of the Gemara.

In a manuscript identified as JTS, New York Rab. 832 (JTS, New York, Ms. 6648), pictures illustrating איצטבא בדופן האמצעי ואיצטבא מן הצד are placed alongside two other illustrations on the next page.

Dr. Aharon Arend attributes these pictures to the Rashi on 4a.[2]

Additionally, the Dfus Rishon of Soncino Pesaro (c.1515) places the diagrams in the body of Rashi’s commentary. One diagram is situated next to the Rashi which speaks about the איצטבא being in the middle and the other diagram is in the Rashi which speaks about the איצטבא being on the side.

Bomberg Venice 1521 left empty spaces in the same two comments of Rashi. Bomberg and Pesaro clearly saw them as separate drawings and situated them in the same comments of Rashi:

This Chochmat Shlomo (Cracow 1582) agreed that the two illustrations belonged in Rashi and placed them in the Rashi immediately preceding the first one of Soncino Pesaro (which is the beginning of the Halacha):

Berman Frankfurt an der Oder 1698 used the same shapes as Chochmat Shlomo but, despite clear instructions in Chochmat Shlomo of where to place the pictures (דבור המתחיל דופן האמצעי), inserted them in the text of Gemara.

Amsterdam 1717 finally placed the two pictures where they are today.[3]

The Amsterdam imprint imputed much importance to the Chochmat Shlomo of Rav Shlomo Luria (MaHarshal) in fixing the text and format of its edition.

On the Shaar Blatt it lists the Chochmat Shlomo first in terms of what sources were used for Hagahot:

Additionally, the publisher, Judah Aryeh Leib ben Josef Samuel in his introduction to Masechet Shabbat, writes how corrupt the text of printed editions had become in his time, but that he was able to correct his edition based on the editing work of MaHarshal, MaHarsha and MaHaram Lublin. There is no diagram in Meier Einai Chachamim of MaHaram Lublin or Chiddushei Halachot of MaHarsha on this Gemara so it is most puzzling as to what source he used to overrule the instructions from MaHarshal of whom he writes ״ונתן ה׳ חכמה בלב שלמה הוא ניהו רבינו הגדול הגאון מהרש״ל זצ״ל שהגיה רוב התלמוד״

It seems as if these diagrams were somehow destined to be embedded within the text of the Gemara which is studied today, but I feel that a reference letter or number should be placed above these pictures, and an explanatory note placed on the side of the Gemara which says

בדפוס ראשון הציורים מופיעים ברש״י, ומהרש״ל גם כותב שהם שייכים לרש״י

I recommend specifically that such a notation be placed in the הגהות וציונים section of the next Oz Vehadar edition of Masechet Sukkah just as there are other references to דפוס ראשון and מהרש״ל on the same Amud.[4]

Rav Shmuel Ashkenazi: a Hidden Genius
By Eliezer Brodt

This Monday night is the first yahrzeit marking the passing of a unique Talmid Chacham, R’ Shmuel Ashkenazi of Yerushalayim, at the age of ninety-eight. R’ Shmuel was one of the hidden giants of the seforim world, in both ultra-orthodox and academic circles. I had the Zechus to learn much from him and in this article, I wish to describe this fascinating but hardly known Gaon and what we can learn from his life. An earlier abridged version of this article appeared in the Ami Magazine last year. IY”H in the future I will expand this essay.

One day back in 2000, while learning in the Mir as a Bochur, I was having a conversation with a friend, R’ Yaakov Yisrael Stahl, and R’ Shmuel Ashkenazi’s name came up, R’ Yaakov described him as an extraordinary Talmid Chacham. A little while later, during one of my daily seforim store trips I noticed a recent arrival, a very heavy sefer (844 pp.) with a peculiar title, Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira. I opened it up and immediately put two and two together, realizing that the author is the same R’ Shmuel Ashkenazi I just heard about. Upon purchasing it, I could not put it down. Learning through it I was immediately able to tell that my friend had not exaggerated in the slightest way. It appeared that this person knew literally everything about anything connected to Torah.

First Meeting

At the time, I had been working on researching and publishing my first article which dealt with tracing everything about the custom of not sleeping on Rosh Hashanah. One of the earliest sources quoted was in the name of a Yerushalmi which appeared to have been lost at some point. I had been searching all over for any information on this topic, and it was then that I noticed that R’ Ashkenazi was planning on writing about this topic in the next volume of his. I am not sure why but at the time I did not make an effort to speak with him about this. I returned to the US for a few years, and while in the US I drafted a letter to him listing all of my issues on this topic but I never got around to sending it. When I returned to Eretz Yisroel in 2004, one of the first of my planned stops was to visit R’ Shmuel Ashkenazi. Almost immediately upon returning a newly made friend, R’ Duvid Vieder, a Toldos Aharon Chossid who was close to R’ Ashkenazi, brought me into him to visit. From then on, I began to visit him regularly, this custom continued until a few weeks before the 2020 coronavirus lockdowns. At times I visited him once a week for an hour or so, other times once a month, other times I would speak to him on the phone.

I must preface my reminiscences by saying that, sadly, I did not heed the advice of the Chasam Sofer who told his children and talmidim that since he won’t be around forever, they should “chap arein” and listen to his stories. Unfortunately, this is not the first person with whom this has happened to me. I took for granted that Rav Ashkenazi would be around forever, (he did die at the age of 98!) and assumed I would always be able to ask him again for a particular story or an idea that he mentioned.

What was the connection?

Basically, each visit I would prepare lists of questions to ask him. I would also bring him new seforim or articles (printed out in big letters, to help him read it easier). Sometimes when I would ask him something, he would say he is old and his head does not work, other times it was amazing what he remembered – on the spot. Sometimes he would pull down a file of material stored in – no jokes here – old cornflakes boxes.

I would then scan some of the material. Other times he offhand did not have anything to add on a particular topic but when looking at a particular sefer I would find a note written on the side or in a paper stored in the sefer that would be related to what I was searching. Other times I would find something else which was of great importance. Rarely did I leave his house empty handed. We both shared a love for seforim and information on a wide range of topics.

Love of Seforim

What drew me to him, and particular developed my relationship with him, was our shared love of seforim. I would update him on new seforim. At times he would ask me to purchase it for him or would borrow my copy for a bit. He told me numerous times how he enjoyed visiting and buying seforim from various shops for many years and that he started collecting when he was seven years old! Now he could not go to stores as he was too old; I got to know him when he was over eighty.

When I joined the editorial board of the journal Yeshurun, I would bring him each new volume as it was printed. Each visit he would ask me to check on the shelf where he kept them, to see if he was up to date and if needed, to update him with any missing volumes. A true lover of seforim, his face would lit up at each new volume. I would then point out some of the articles I thought he would enjoy and he would put in markers to read them.

I always wondered if he read the various volumes of Yeshurun I brought him. After he was niftar, while going through his seforim, I found inserted in one rare book a small paper which he wrote: “for more information about this author see the article in Yeshurun”. Then in a different pen he added another cite from another issue from Yeshrun from a few years later.

This small story also demonstrates a bit of his methodology; he would collect all kinds of information and store them at times in a related sefer and would constantly update these notes.

His love for seforim was something unique, the glow on his face when he opened up a new sefer, especially of someone he was into, was simply priceless. He would look carefully at the Shaar and if it was a reprint of an older sefer he would immediately check if they included the front page of the older edition to compare. He had seforim in every space possible in the four rooms of his apartment, including his porch. Many visitors noticed how even his kitchen was lined with seforim!

Dikdueki Sofrim Haskomot

An interesting story happened with me and his library. While working on an article about the Dikdueki Sofrim I was unable to track down some recorded Haskomot that the author R’ R.N.N. Rabinowitz had received for the first edition of his work. I, along with other scholars, had searched numerous copies of the first edition, but with no luck. Late one night, I came to R’ Ashkenazi’s house and mentioned to him my problem. He said “show me the issue inside,” keeping with his custom to take care to always view the source material firsthand (Osiosi Machkemios – a topic he wrote a lot about). I took down his copy of the sefer, and lo and behold it was a first edition with the missing Haskamot! I published these missing Haskamot in my article on the Didukei Sofrim, and attributed this rare and miraculous find to his extraordinary library.

His History:

Where this unique Talmid Chacham came from is simply a mystery. He was born in Yerushalayim and lived in Batei Ungarn. He learned by Rav Yosef Tzvi Dushinsky of the Edah HaChareidis. Originally, his name was Deutsch but, at some point changed it to Ashkenazi. He had four children with his wife who died over forty years ago. Since then, he lived alone in his apartment near some of his children. His son did an excellent job of Kibud Av bringing him food every day and looking on him a few times a day. Yom Tov and Simchos he spent time with his family.

When I and others asked him, who was his Rebbe, he would just smile and say no one in particular. The truth is the Mishnah in Avos states: Knei Lecha Chaver. Aside from the simple peshat, Rashi explains this Mishnah by citing some who say it means via Seforim others commentators explain this as ‘buying a pen’ (see R’ Ashkenazi’s in-depth article on this for sources). R’ Ashkenazi employed all of these methods; his friends and teachers were his seforim and his pen.

R’ Ashkenazi was a short, quiet and unassuming person. Most, having seen him walking on the street, would never believe he was such an erudite Gaon. Many times, R’ Ashkenazi did not express much emotion except to give a pleasant smile and was friendly and polite in conversation. But there were times he got very excited; for example, when he recalled a good story from his younger years or something unique that he discovered years ago. He was very polite and was a real Yekeh; for example as soon as they bentched Rosh Chodesh Kislev his Menorah was already prepared in the window.

R’ Yechiel Goldhaber, a Talmid Chacham and author of numerous articles and seforim had a close relationship with R’ Ashkenazi for many years. He recalled when he was introduced to R’ Ashkenazi for the first time by his father-in-law, he thought to himself who is this simple looking man? He soon learned that this man was a master of all of Torah and swiftly became a close Talmid of his.

Many times, he would tell me he wishes he could come visit my library. In Later years he would spend his Yomim Tovim at his daughter. One Chol Hamoed Succos, when he was over ninety, he made the difficult trek from her house to mine in order to spend time in my library.

He would love to read everything he could get his hands on. I visited him at many different times of day, even late at night and I always found him learning a sefer – even when he was over ninety. He read everything newspapers, books – he was just curious about everything with an incredible thirst for knowledge.

I recall visiting him a few times when he eighty-five and noticed he was learning the Shelah Hakodosh very carefully. I asked him why (of course he had learned through this sefer numerous times before!) and he responded that someone is reprinting the sefer and asked him to go through the sefer and send comments. He therefore sat down to learn the whole sefer, line by line, after which he wrote a ten-page letter with his comments on the sefer.

Over time, I learned again and again that R’ Ashkenazi personally believed his purpose in this world was to help people with the incredible amounts of information that he had gathered over the years of intense learning. This incredible Middah can be seen in this light; he did not feel that he was the “owner” of this extraordinary wealth of information he had collected, and thus gave very willingly without any conditions. He never asked me to cite him when he gave me some rare source even – although I always told him I would; he just was so happy to help someone else.

He would collect and catalog much of what he read. He had all kinds of systems to file the information he had gathered over eighty plus years of learning. When he would read an important article in a magazine or journal, he would cut out the parts and store them in their appropriate place. He gathered information on thousands and thousands of subjects (not an exaggeration in any form) which had some connection to our rich heritage. What’s more astounding is that R’ Ashkenazi never used a computer or the internet; all of his erudition came about simple by learning through thousands of seforim; a great many of them rare or unknown.

Over the years he helped so many people and for many years after he retired, he would visit the National Library of Israel on Tuesdays, where throngs of people would line up in wait to speak with him about all kinds of subjects.

Many years ago, he received a call from a young chassidish Talmid Chacham living in Monsey who was starting to work on publishing a new edition of the classic historical work Seder Hadorot. He started asking him questions about various issues he had. Over many phone-calls R’ Ashkenazi answered many of his difficulties while training him in proper research and writing skills. This year some volumes finally were published (see here). And this was not a onetime occurrence – he helped so many more people. He used to remark to me that when he was younger so many people would come to visit him – until the late hours of the night.

He was an expert in so many different topics, whether it was the standard ones like Tanach, Chazal, Halacha, Minhag or Chassidus or less commonly studied subjects such as Tefilah, Piyut, Dikduk, Kabbalah, Philosophy, Machshavah, History and Bibliography. In all of these areas his expertise was remarkable.

His Uniqueness

A sample of his bekius; one time I noted that the Maharsha often quotes a “Sefer Yoshon Noshon” and asked if we have any idea which sefer this is? He immediately responded that he found it usually refers to R’ Todros Abulafiah’s Otzar Hakavod.

His incredible Bekius was bolstered by an almost photographic memory, as the following story demonstrates. Once someone used the Bar-Ilan Responsa search engine to locate a passage in the Tana DeBei Eliyahu to no avail. He went to ask R’ Ashkenazi who immediately told him where the passage could be found. Checking the Bar-Ilan text, it was discovered that when the sefer was being entered into their database the passage in question had been mistakenly omitted. I first heard this story from someone else, so to make sure it was accurate I asked him about it and he confirmed it. A similar story happened with him and a passage from the Shut Chasam Sofer.

A few years back a friend was working on publishing out an esoteric Rishon on Mesechet Megillah. He thought no one ever heard of this author and randomly mentioned this to R’ Ashkenazi – without batting an eyelash – replied “of course, and one can find material by this author in the work of Rav Shlomoh Alkabetz on Megillas Esther (Manos Halevi). The fellow was stunned in elation; he had just been gifted new and important material for his project.

This remarkable Bekius which even beat out computer search engines, was just one aspect that made him remarkable. He would receive numerous calls and letters from all over the world from people of all walks of life seeking his assistance in tracking down a statement. He had an incredible knowledge of all of Chazal. I do not just mean the “standards”; Bavli, Yerushalmi and Midrash – even all the numerous and very often almost unknown Midrashim printed over the years. He was also expert in what is known as the lost Midrashim. Over the years many Midrashim we had were lost but some traces of them can be found in various Piyutim, cited by Rishonim or in other obscure places. Through his incredible amounts of learning and his phenomenal memory he was able to recall so much in this field.

To illustrate this with some samples. A few years back someone who was editing for publication a never before printed pirush of a Rishon on Avos came across a few statements in the name of Chazal. This person, a Talmid Chacham in his own right and familiar with tracking down such material, could not locate sources for these statements. Immediately he penned a letter to R’ Ashkenazi. A few days after he received a letter from R’ Ashkenazi with various incredible sources for his questions. This was a very common occurrence.

Piyut, Tefilah and language

Earlier, I mentioned his expertise in Piyut, Tefilah and language. A bit of background is needed to explain this. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, when describing Rabbi Elazar Hakalir’s greatness, (Koren Mesorat Harav Kinot (pp. 386-388) wrote the following:

The piyutim of Rabbi Elazar HaKalir, including his kinot, serve two purposes. The first is limmud, learning. Every sentence of the piyut quotes m’aamarei Chazal… The second purpose is tokhaha, rebuking the people for their misdeeds and instructing them in the proper way to act. These piyyutim deal with… repentance… acknowledgment of God’s justice. The shali’ah Tzibbur was not merely a chazan…, but was one of the great scholars of the generation who was the principal… moral critic of the people… Rabbi Elazar HaKalir was (also) a master of the Hebrew language and very creative in his use of Hebrew. If not for him, modern Hebrew could not have come into existence. Before HaKalir, the Hebrew language was very rigid. For example, the noun and verbs were fixed in their form… But HaKalir made a critical contribution to the development of the Hebrew language by endowing the language with flexibility… Rabbi Elazar haKalir’s piyutim served two purposes: limmud, study… As for the element of study, one of the dimensions of HaKalir’s piyyutim is that they are compilations of the statements of the sages. Most of us, who are expert in neither Hebrew nor aggadot Hazal, find HaKalir’s corpus of piyutim boring. But it is not boring at all; it is like a gold mine. His piyutim for Yom Tov explain the essence of the Yom Tov. The midrashim concerning Sukkot are replete with information about the sukka, etrog and lulav, and all the explanations in the Midrash, all the ta’amei sukka, the reasons for the sukka, all of the ma’amarei Hazal, are together in the HaKalir’s piyutim for the first day of Sukkot… If one were to study carefully and thoroughly the piyutim of Rabbi Elazar HaKalir for Rosh HaSahana, Yom Kippur, Sukkot, and Pesah, one would find many applicable halakhot and the entire pertinent Midrash, including many midrashim that are unknown to us from any other source.

Rav Ashkenazi was an expert on everything related to Tefilah and Piyut. He somehow read it all and retained it. But in addition, he was able to use his expertise in Chazal and Hebrew language to understand it on a much higher level and as a result was often contacted by the world experts on Tefilah and Piyut for his assistance. These requests came from experts such as Professor Shalom Speigel, Chaim Schirmann, Avraham Haberman, Ezra Fleischer and Daniel Goldschmidt who constantly sought his assistance while working on their Tefilah and Piyut related projects.

In an interview with Ami Magazine printed a few years back, Professor Shulamit Elitzur mentioned:

“there’s another amazing thing I find when doing research. I am constantly coming across midrashim that were lost to the ages… example, everyone knows that Haman was referred to as ‘the Agagi’ because Shaul allowed Agag to live one extra night, which allowed Haman’s ancestor to be born. However, the earliest makor we find in writing in the 16th century; this fact was discovered by Rav Shmuel Ashkenazi of Yerushalayim. But I found a ktav yad of a piyut about Purim that describes this very story and explains how Haman’s ancestor was born, which gives us a source from 1,000 years earlier! And there are many similar examples of lost midrashim being kept alive through unknown piyutim.”

R’ Ashkenazi wrote some articles on Piyut and Tefilah, but we have found much more among his papers and hopefully if I can raise enough funding all his fascinating material on Tefilah will come to light.

When the important Siddur Ezer Eliyahu (sponsored by his late friend Yeshaya Vinograd) was first printed, one can see R’ Ashkenazi’s name in the introduction, thanking him for his assistance (he assisted them for some of the later additions) and his great knowledge in this field.

I mentioned that he had an incredible knowledge of Dikduk and the Hebrew language and used it towards better understanding Piyut and Tefilah. He also authored articles on these subjects and in 1967, when reviewing an important dictionary, wrote a long article demonstrating this very point – and article that garnered much praise. He was very proud of this essay and mentioned it to me many times. A few years ago, I reprinted it with additions he had made in his own copy and a nine-page topical index.

One of the ways he developed this expertise was via learning Tanach so many times. He was an expert in Tanach and all the Rishonic commentaries (including the unknown ones); he even authored a small book of Riddles of Tanach.

He also used his extraordinary skills to become a master editor. However, in addition to the work he was born with an incredible innate sensitivity for text and language which made him one of the best editors out there. For many years he worked at the famous publishing house Mossad HaRav Kook, editing various works. He told me more than once how there was an expert there who would brag (jokingly) that after he read through an article it was impossible to find mistakes. The only person who could still find mistakes was R’ Ashkenazi. He had razor-sharp vision and could immediately spot a mistake.

Many times, I would bring an edited piece of mine to read. As soon as I put it down in front of him, he would take out a red pen and start marking it up and say to me “are you sure it’s been edited?”. He told me he had to mark up everything before he could read it properly, errata were so painful for him to see that it was hard for him to read something on Shabbos! He told me he was punished; when his work Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira came out, although he had edited it numerous times, he still found mistakes.

During his learning over the years, he found many people, great Gedolim as well as famous academics, had made mistakes, sometimes quite basic ones. At one point he printed two articles about this. However, he prefaced his articles that his intent was not to mock those who erred but to vividly illustrate that people are human and mistakes will happen. He was a master of humility and never held it over anyone that they did not know what he knew.

He was not only a great expert in all aspects of the Hebrew language but was an expert in Aramaic and Yiddish, both of which he displayed in various publications of his. Related to his expertise in Aramaic, which is very important for learning Gemara, is a very unique essay which he authored related to the Rambam as a translator of the Gemara. One of the world experts in old Yiddish is Professor Chava Turniansky, who has noted on many occasions that one of the people who have always helped her from her days as a student, was R’ Ashkenazi.

Related to this was another talent of his, which at first appears trivial; he was an expert on acronyms. This led to authoring a thesaurus of acronyms together with Dov Yardan, called Otzar Roshei Tevot, with a multitude of obscure and often almost impossible entries. His sensitivity to the text and work in the field of editing drew him to this field. Anyone who learns a lot, especially older material comes across abbreviations, and many times they cause great difficulty in understanding various passages. Abbreviations were employed in writing, sometimes as mnemonic devices and other times simply to save on printing costs. But over time many meanings were forgotten. This work is an extremely useful tool for solving this issue.

Ghostwriting

One day I was in a used bookstore and I noticed a small sefer titled Harif Umishnaso about the Rif. I recalled that this title appeared in the list in beginning of his work, Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira which listed out the various works he helped with over the years. I asked R. Ashkenazi if it’s worth buying and what his connection to the book was, as a different name appears on the cover.

R’ Ashkenazi replied “I can tell you it’s an important sefer and worthwhile to buy.” I noticed he was hesitant to continue the conversation. He then said “I will tell you something I did not tell anyone in over forty years – I wrote the whole sefer from beginning to end and it was one of the most important works I ever wrote.” The original plan was to for him to write a series of biographies on various Rishonim – in this book he already references a work on the Ri Migash – but due to a lack of funding this series was discontinued. However, not all of this remained unpenned; he wrote numerous entries in various encyclopedias. It turns out that R’ Ashkenazi had over fifteen different pen names!

I would like to elaborate on this work a bit more and thus cast further light upon R’ Ashkenazi’s uniqueness and greatness. The Rif’s Halachic work is one of the most important sources in Halacha, but what exactly makes it so unique has remained a mystery. R’ Ashkenazi sought to answer this question by collecting and collating all the authentic information we have about the Rif, from the Rif and from other Rishonim. He went through the Rif carefully examining what he did to each Gemara evaluating if remarks or material was added or not and to figure out why, allowing the reader to begin to understand the Rif’s significance. R’ Ashkenazi’s writing methods were honed to precision. He had an uncanny ability to utilize every piece of information without writing an extra letter and assemble it all in perfect order sans speculations commonly found in historical works. At times one does not need grand theories to understand something; just seeing all the known material in proper order helps one understand things. The wealth of material that Rav Ashkenazi commanded in producing this work is outstanding; this book was written in 1967 – long before any of the various search engines used today.

Haggadah Sheleimah

Similar to this is another work by R’ Ashkenazi, Haggadah Sheleimah. I hope to publish an article about this work in the near future, including the numerous additions R’ Ashkenazi found over the years and kept in his files. This work is highly unique for the following reasons. The collected bibliographies by Avraham Ya’ari and Yitzchak Yudlov bear witness to thousands of Haggados written throughout the generations in a multitude of styles, such as Pilpul, Peshat, Kabbalah, Derush and more. However, until 1955 there was no one work on the Haggadah which collected all the sources for each and every Halacha and minhag related to the Seder night. There was no volume which dealt with the various manuscripts of Geonim and Rishonim and at the same time to deal with the exact text of the Haggadah. Haggadah Sheleimah set out to fill those needs, and at the same time offer a running collection of Pirushim culled from over fifty different commentators focusing just on Peshat. In order to produce such an exacting work, it’s not good enough to just be a talented writer, one must also possess a keen understanding of all the material and relay this with incredible clarity. R’ Ashkenazi was such a person; one who sought out the simple Peshat, able to put this myriad of information together in so beautiful a fashion, and with tremendous clarity. His work in Haggadah Sheleimah is so clearly organized and always straight to the point that it is no wonder that to this day Haggadah Sheleimah remains a classic in both the Torah and Academic worlds.

Rav Ashkenazi once explained to me that one has to write precisely and to the point, not lengthily. He said he believed that one of the reasons Rashi’s works survived was due to his concise way it was written, as opposed to various works of Geonim which did not really survive as they were written in a much lengthier format.

Why didn’t he publish his material?

A few years ago, a partial bibliography of his writings was printed in his Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira. The listing is close to three hundred articles and seforim that he wrote or assisted in on some level. He started writing under various pen names over eighty years ago. The background to the publication of this volume was, as I mentioned previously, R’ Ashkenazi had been writing and collection information on thousands of topics for over eighty years. Unfortunately, he did not print much of what he gathered. The main reason for this was R. Ashkenazi’s “weakness”; he demanded incredible levels of perfection from himself. Although he strived for great perfection, nonetheless he stressed to me numerous times that he was mistaken in that approach and that I should not follow in his path. In his words it is better I print my work to the best of my current abilities and that worse comes to worse you can always reprint with additions and corrections. Over twenty years ago, R’ Teflinsky somehow convinced R’ Ashkenazi that his material needed to be printed. Together they began compiling some of his material for print, resulting in a volume over eight hundred pages!

After that experience both R’ Ashkenazi and R’ Teflinsky stopped, with no plans of continuing this project. A few years later my good friend, R’ Yaakov Yisrael Stahl and myself were able to convince him to continue. R’ Stahl took upon himself the daunting task to prepare the material for publishing; since, than three more volumes were printed.

Here is a small video clip of R’ Ashkenazi, when we brought him copies of the second and third volumes of his writings, ten years ago.

The topics that these works deal with cover, on some level, virtually everything; sources for expressions and idioms, for minhag, Halacha, the evolution of famous stories, bibliography, corrections of authors’ errors, encyclopedic style information on thousands of topics culled from thousands of seforim – many of them very rare or unknown. (A PDF of the Table of contents of this work is available upon request).

His Letters

Earlier I mentioned the story of someone who wrote him a letter seeking help. This was not a one-time occurrence. He authored well over a thousand such letters in response to such questions. Some requests were for sources to various Halachos or Minhagim, numerous others are various queries related to out rich literature. R’ Ashkenazi always invested his time to answer properly and clearly. Recently, R’ Stahl and I collected these letters for publication and the result is a three-volume set, available for purchase.

Over seventy years ago he purchased a typewriter which he used until his passing.

In an article written by the late Gaon R’ S. Deblitsky, he writes out various proper actions a Rav should “observe.” One of them is to respond to people who write to him, whether the issues are big or small. R’ Ashkenazi was very careful to try to respond promptly. Many people would send him their seforim after they were printed asking him for his comments. He would usually respond with a multi-page letter, beginning by thanking the author for sending it to him, then listing out some criticisms, usually written delicately, while adding all kinds of comments. He always tried to look to say something positive. Some people who heard of him through various channels over the years contacted him before they printed their works. Many times, he would write a collection of comments and corrections to such works. A sample listing of some of those works that benefited from him before going to print include recent editions of: Sefer Zechirah, Kav Hayasher, Sefer Hachayim and many others.

Thanks to the efforts of my special friend Menachem Butler, various academics wrote some praises about the significances of these letters; to partially quote one letter written by the esteemed Professor Shnayer Z. Leiman:

Reb Shmuel was

“bibliographer, bibliophile, and book collector, and his encyclopedic knowledge of all of Hebrew and Yiddish literature remains unparalleled in our time.” His collected writings are an intellectual treasure trove, “covering a wide range of topics in the field of Jewish Studies. Aside from his scholarly distinction, R. Shmuel Ashkenazi wrote in an elegant Hebrew with its own special charm. Not only did he advance discussion, but he did so in an aesthetically pleasing manner. Let it be said openly: this… set will enlighten every reader and will significantly advance scholarship. Anyone concerned with advancing the cause of quality Jewish scholarship will take special delight in the publication of these volumes…During his lifetime [Ashkenazi] corresponded with the greatest Jewish scholars and bibliographers the world over. They wrote to him, for only he could solve the countless historical and literary problems that stumped them…”

Another person to whom Menachem Butler reached out to via his numerous contacts was former editor of Mekizei Nirdamim’s journal Kabez Al Yad, Professor Shulamit Elizur of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem. In her aforementioned interview in Ami Magazine several years ago she said this:

“I am unequal to the task of adequately singing the praises of Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi, an erudite bibliophile. His familiarity with rabbinic writings from throughout Jewish history is unparalleled, and he is well-versed in the research literature of academic Jewish studies as well. I first met Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi through my teacher, the late Professor Ezra Fleischer. Prof. Fleischer, who was one of the greatest scholars of all time, would often chat with Rabbi Ashkenazi on scholarly topics, and he was careful to send Ashkenazi every article or book he published, knowing that in return he would receive enlightening comments on his work. When I began my own research, Prof. Fleischer instructed me in turn to send my publications to Rabbi Ashkenazi, and I too was privileged to learn a great deal from his comments. It once happened that I was searching for a particular midrashic theme which was alluded to in a liturgical poem (piyut), and although I consulted the leading scholars of Jerusalem who responded that it was a well-known homily, I was unable to locate its specific source. In my hour of need, I turned to Rabbi Ashkenazi, who immediately gave me several references. It emerged that every one of these references post-dated the piyut by almost a thousand years, and that this ancient tradition alluded to in the poem had been transmitted orally for that long period before being committed to writing in the later midrashim. Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi’s correspondence is a tremendous resource of Torah and scholarship. Every paragraph encapsulates a great deal in just a few words, and sometimes even with allusions whose explication require deep learning.”

Here is a short letter from Professor Gershom Scholem to R’ Ashkenazi:

Expressions and famous stories

In his writings some of the topics of these are about tracing expressions or the evolution of famous stories. Based on his knowledge, he was able to contribute a lot to these areas even editing some works on these topics.

One such story related to a supposed legend of a portrait of Moshe Rabbeinu which caused a great controversy over a century ago. In 1830, Rav Yisroel Lipschutz started printing his magnum opus, a commentary on the Mishnah titled Tiferes Yisroel. In the section on Maseches Kiddushin first printed in 1843, he brings a story about a king who lived in the time of Moshe, who, after hearing incredible things about this great leader, hired a painter to paint a picture of him so he could have his features analyzed by experts. The people who analyzed the picture reported that the person pictured was evil. The king went in person to visit Moshe Rabbeinu in the midbar and asked him how was it that an analysis of his pictures showed him to be of such wicked character. Moshe told him that the analysis was indeed true; however, after much work, he changed his character and became the great Moshe Rabbeinu.

In 1894 a booklet by the Vilkomir Maggid was printed railing against this story. This booklet presented numerous sources stating that Moshe Rabbeinu was born a kadosh and it was unthinkable to print such a story about him. Indeed, this story was censored out of the 1956 edition of the Tiferes Yisroel. In truth, this ancient legend can be found in various sources and in regard to different luminaries, some claiming it about Aristotle others, Socrates. In fact, R’ Ashkenazi documented it was long used in various Musar and Chasidus sefarim cited as an important lesson that one can change one’s born nature for the good, but not that it actually was true about Moshe Rabbeinu.

Another such story relates to a famous legend about the site where the Beis Hamikdash was built. Told in short, two brothers inherited a field, one brother had a family one did not. At the end of the harvest they divided up the wheat equally. That night the childless brother felt bad for his brother with a large family and said to himself “it’s unfair that while my brother needs more than I, we shared equally”, so he brought over from his pile to his brothers. The other brother thought that since his brother was childless, he should have a larger share of the crop, as consolation, so he added from his share to his brother’s. In the morning each brother realized their piles remained the same and this went on for two more nights. On the third night they met, realized each of their intentions was out of deep consideration for the other and hugged. Numerous people have searched for the early sources for this story. I decided to ask R’ Ashkenazi if he had any material on the subject. He found his file on the story and within was a letter from R’ Yudlov who had been asked by someone in the Education Ministry for the sources on this story. R’ Ashkenazi traced its first appearance in print to 1832 and from there he traced it to other sources.

Bibliography

I would like to conclude with just one more area in which R’ Ashkenazi was truly a legendary master: Bibliography. For many years, R’ Ashkenazi worked in the (now) National Library’s Bibliography of the Jewish Book Project. He also contributed to some of the important bibliographical works and journals written in the past century such as Kiryat Sefer, Otzar Sefer Haivri (Vinegrad) and Sifrei Yerushalyim Harishonim.

A few years back, while working on an article about the origins of eating Hamantaschen (see here), I found an important article from Dov Sadan containing sources on this topic. One of the sources was the interesting, controversial work Machberet Emanuel. I had a nice conversation with R’ Ashkenazi about this work – he had helped Dov Yardan prepare a critical edition of the work and even wrote a long book review on it (which he said he received a lot of Kovod for).

He mentioned two points of interest which will serve as a sample to some of his expertise. One, he noted that Emanuel of Rome wrote a commentary on sefer Mishlei. Interestingly, the preface to the Mishlei commentary sefer is signed Emanuel son of Yaakov, whereas Emanuel’s father’s name was Shlomo. Some have noted that this discrepancy and explained it is a mistake. R’ Ashkenazi suggested this was not a mistake, rather an intentional typo intended by the author to hide his connection to his controversial Machberes Emanuel. The second point he made to me was how the Chida writes in Shem Hagedolim that the best commentary to learn on Mishlei that by Emanuel of Rome. R’ Ashkenazi said he checked into the words of the Chida and he learned through all the works on Mishlei and concluded that the Chida was quite correct. He once had a dream to write a whole work on Mishlei, he even started to pen his comments in a special notebook, but the plans never worked out.

One final last story about R’ Ashkenazi’s bibliographic acumen. In 2009 my special friend Dr. S. Sprecher z”l (about him see this article on the seforim blog here) wished to reprint and distribute a small work called Tshuvah Be’Inyan Kriat HaKetubah, in honor of his son’s upcoming wedding, under that assumption that, just as the title page and the publisher’s introduction indicated, it represented an actual Halakhic Responsum issued in 1835 by the Chief Rabbi of Bialystok, one Rabbi Nechemiah. Sprecher wrote:

However, our close reading of this Tshuvah led us in an entirely different direction. To us, the work’s style manifested clear Maskilic echoes, and its arguments rejecting the binding nature of centuries-old Minhagim were clearly not in accord with 19th–century Halakhic thought. Our reaction was that the work must certainly be pseudepigraphal and could not have arisen from the pen of the Chief Rabbi of Bialystok. In fact, a quick perusal of the reference literature demonstrated that there never was any Chief Rabbi of Bialystok named Nechemiah.

At an impasse, we reached out to Professor Shnayer Z. Leiman, who suggested that the scholar most likely to solve the mystery would be the doyen of Israeli bibliographers, Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi. We were rewarded thanks to the tireless efforts of Eliezer Brodt who, on our behalf, pestered the aged Jerusalem sage until he successfully unmasked the name, but not quite the identity, of the author. Rabbi Ashkenazi concluded that the first line of the introductory poem that prefaced the Halakhic query contained the acrostic – “Meir Ish-Shalom”. (His initial contention was that this could not be the noted 19th–century Viennese scholar, Meir Ish-Shalom, because his heretofore known literary output began only some five years later, with his publication of the Sifre in 1864.)

Once Rabbi Ashkenazi had provided the key to the author’s name via the acrostic, it became apparent that all along the title page had been proclaiming that very same message. Let us recall the passage in Bavli Eruvin 13b where it is recorded that the celebrated Tanna, known to us as Rabbi Meir, was actually named Nehorai, according to one opinion; or alternatively, that both Meir and Nehorai were laudatory appellations reflecting his enlightening wisdom, whereas his actual name was Nechemiah. Recall also that the query first originated with Rabbi “Shalom” of Novgorod, and the word “shalom” appears twice more on the title page and is highlighted by the placement of a circle above one of its appearances.

In his copy of this work that Dr Sprecher printed for the Chasunah which I brought him, I found this paper inside:

A few weeks after R’ Ashkenazi’s Petirah the national library held a session devoted to him where Professor Zev Gries, Professor Chava Turniansky and R’ Yechiel Goldhaber spoke about him (here is a link to the whole session). I too had the privilege of being interviewed about him that night (Here is a link to my interview).

Publication of his writings

Last year, immediately after Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi was niftar I, along with my special friend Menachem Butler, initiated a campaign to raise funds to publish R. Ashkenazi’s letters via the Seforim blog. Baruch HaShem, and thanks to the help of some readers, enough money was raised to go to print and in the beginning of this past January copies of the book, coming in at over 1,700 pages, (three volumes!) arrived as announced (here). The Letters sold out in a few days. A second edition was printed right before Pesach (see here). Currently copies of the second edition are available for sale.

Future volumes

Already during the Shivah, R’ Stahl began going through the materials of R’ Ashkenazi to sort out what materials are print worthy.

Here is a picture of R’ Stahl taken during one such session which a friend of his humorously put side by side a famous picture of Solomon Schecter when working on Geniza documents.

An Illustrated Life of an Illustrious Renaissance Jew Rabbi Doctor Shimshon Morpurgo (1681-1740)

By Rabbi Edward Reichman, MD

Shimshon (AKA Samson or Sanson) Morpurgo is a classic Italian Renaissance personality- physician, rabbi, liturgist/poet, author. Born in 1681 in Gradisca d’Isonzo, close to Gorizia, Morpurgo was brought by his father to Venice as a young boy. He spent his entire life in Italy, training to be a rabbi and physician, practicing medicine, composing prayers and poems, engaging in debate and dialogue with some of the generation’s prominent figures, and ultimately serving as the rabbi of the city of Ancona for the last twenty years of his life. While a definitive biography of Morpurgo remains a desideratum, he has been the subject of a number of dedicated essays.[1] Scholars have addressed his medical practice,[2] his philosophical work,[3] and his lengthy correspondence with Moshe Chagiz regarding the controversies involving both Shabtai Tzvi and Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto.[4] A collection of his halakhic responsa, Shemesh Tzedakah, was published posthumously by his son, Moshe Hayyim Shabtai,[5] and manuscript examples of his personal correspondence, halakhic responsa, and occasional poems can be found in various libraries.[6]

The present contribution is not primarily intended to expand upon Morpurgo’s narrative biography, though it will enhance it, but rather as a visual supplement. Here we bring to light previously unknown or little-known documents from significant chapters of his life, including his medical diploma, his semikhah and his portrait. It is a rarity to possess such a group of documents for any one figure in the pre-modern era.

Medical Diploma

Morpurgo graduated the famed University of Padua Medical School in 1700 at the age of nineteen. Padua was the first university in Europe to officially open its doors to Jewish students,[7] and hundreds of Jewish students studied there between the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries. A number of diplomas of Jewish graduates from this period are extant in libraries, museums and personal collections.[8] The full text of Morpurgo’s diploma is printed in Edgardo Morpurgo’s book on the Morpurgo family history,[9] but he provides neither a picture of the diploma nor any context to compare this diploma to that of other Padua medical graduates. Indeed, based on the question marks in the text and the occasional misspellings, it leads me to wonder if he had access to the original diploma when writing this text.[10] The original medical diploma, a portion of which is pictured below, is housed in the U. Nahon Museum of Italian Jewish Art in Jerusalem.[11]

The diplomas of the Jewish graduates of the University of Padua Medical School possess unique features which are reflected in Morpurgo’s diploma. For example, the invocation for a standard issue medical diploma from Padua in this period, “In Christi Nomine Amen” (in the name of Christ Amen), is replaced with the non-Christian substitution, “In Dei Aeterni Nomine Amen” (in the name of the Eternal God, Amen). Morpurgo is referred to as Hebreus, typically added for the Jewish graduate. Other changes include the writing of the date as “current year,” as opposed to the typical forms of dating which included Christian reference (e.g., Anno Domini), and the location of the graduation ceremony, which was in a nondenominational venue, as opposed to a church. 

While similar to other Jewish diplomas in form, this is not the case with respect to style. In this regard, Morpurgo’s diploma stands apart from his peers. Most of the diplomas we possess of Padua graduates form this period, whether Jewish or not, are ornate elaborate works of art with magnificently illustrated borders, often including a portrait of the graduate and a family coat of arms. Indeed, Padua University hired its own staff of artists and calligraphers for this purpose. The Morpurgo family had a coat of arms- a depiction of the prophet Jonah in the clutches of the jaws of the whale- which appears in documents and tombstones of the family throughout the centuries.[12] Below are some examples:

Morpurgo’s diploma contains no portrait, no coat of arms, no illustration whatsoever. It is a simple calligraphic text.

Below are some example pages from the diplomas of two Jewish students, both of whom graduated within a year or two of Morpurgo. These diplomas were more the norm.[13]

Diploma of Lazarus De Mordis (1699)[14]

Diploma of Samuel Coen (1702)

Rabbinic Ordination (Semikhah)

As recorded in the preface to his responsa Shemesh Tzedakah, Morpurgo received his rabbinic ordination from Rabbi Yehudah Briel in 1709. Meir Benayahu records the text of the semikhah document in his article on Morpurgo.[15] Rabbi Briel was a mentor to other Padua medical graduates, including Yitzhak Lampronti.[16] 

The original document is housed in the National Library of Israel[17] and is reproduced below. The ordination is handwritten on a simple piece of paper (?parchment) with no ornamentation. 

This stands in stark contrast to the semikhah of Rabbi Brill himself, which is quite ornate.[18] 

The unembellished nature of both Morpurgo’s medical and rabbinic certificates, especially in the historical context of Renaissance Italy, may reflect a preference for simplicity or trait of humility.

Papal Privileges

In 1730, during a severe Influenza outbreak, Morpurgo distinguished himself by providing medical services to both Jew and Christian alike. This was particularly remarkable in light of the Papal decrees prohibiting Jews from treating Christians and reciprocally forbidding Christians from being treated by Jews. At the time, this earned him the approbation and commendation of Cardinal Prospero Lambertini.[19] Lambertini would later go on to become Pope Benedict XIV (1740 –1758). In gratitude, Morpurgo and his heirs received rights to act as superintendents of merchandise arriving at the port of Ancona and intended for use in the Apostolic Palace.[20] I have discovered three extant documents issuing privileges to Morpurgo’s heirs. None of the current bearers of these documents notes the existence of the others examples.

1. 1787

The earliest example of a Papal privilege for the Morpurgo family dates from 1787. The document, a picture of which appears below, was sold by Sotheby’s Auction House on December 22, 2015.[21] The catalogue entry is titled as follows: Privileges Accorded to the Heirs of Samson Morpurgo, Granted by Filippo Lancellotti, Prefect of the Apostolic Palace, Rome: 1787.

1. 1793

The second example is from the year 1793. This document is not found in any auction house or museum, but rather on the ancestry research website, MyHeritage.com, accompanying a Morpurgo family tree. While it is not as high quality a reproduction, it is clearly of the same origin as the other two issuances, similar to the third example below. These type of ancestry sites, which include elaborate family trees, often with accompanying historical documents (photos, paintings, etc.), represent an untapped resource for historical research. I will leave it to scholars to debate the use of such material, which may be unprovenanced. 

1. 1794 

The final example comes from the Umberto Nahon Museum (Jerusalem).[22]

Cardinal Lancellotti, the Prefect who issued the first document above, died in 1794. The latter two were issued by Giuseppe Vinci, assumedly another Prefect of the Apostolic Palace. All three of the documents above were issued under the auspices of Pope Pius VI (1775-1799). It is quite possible that more such documents will surface in the future. 

Portrait of Shimshon Morpurgo

As mentioned above, the diploma of Morpurgo bears no illumination, and thus, no portrait, as is found in the diplomas of some other Jewish graduates. Be it for principled or financial reasons, Morpurgo elected not have his portrait adorn his certificate of medical school completion. He did however sit for a portrait later in life,[23] which represents his rabbinic pursuits exclusively, without allusion to his medical practice.[24]

He is pictured at his desk, with his hand on an open Hebrew book. The top line, spanning across both pages is legible, and reads, “ach bi-zelem yithalekh ish,” a phrase from Tehillim (39:7) with kabbalistic overtones. 

The remaining open pages of the book consist of scrawled lines. Inscriptions in Hebrew characters can be found in the works of European artists of the early modern period.[25] Behind Morpurgo are shelves lined with Hebrew books. Some of the titles are legible, including Rambam and Levush, though I cannot make out the others. 

The artist for the Morpurgo portrait is not known, though it is remarkably similar to the portrait of another rabbi physician of this period, Chakham David Nieto (1654- 1728).[26]

There are so many similarities in fact – the curtains, the chair, the bookshelf,[27] the desk, the quill, the book with a legible Hebrew top line- that I am inclined to suggest that they were either drawn by the same artist, or at the very least one was directly inspired by the other.[28]

The book under Nieto’s hand is an accurate representation of his own Mateh Dan, published in 1714, while the book under Morpurgo’s hand does not appear to be that of his own authorship.[29] This may explain why Nieto is holding a quill as if writing the text before him. 

The artist for Nieto’s portrait is David Estevens, a Dutch Jew. Though we do not know the exact date of Nieto’s portrait, Landsberger writes that inasmuch as the portrait shows certain books written by him in 1714 and 1715, it follows that the portrait must have been painted at a time subsequent to then.[30] He does not identify the books to which he refers. A number of books of Nieto’s clearly appear in the portrait. Mateh Dan was published in 1714 and Pascalogia in 1702. Esh Dat was published in 1715, and though not clearly completely visible, the word “Dat” in English appears on a book resting on its side on the bookshelf. Perhaps Landsberger was referring to this. What Landsberger did not know, is that there is a more obtuse reference to another work of Nieto’s which may bring the date of our portrait forward by a few years. On the notebook behind the book Mateh Dan appears the word “Noticias.” Cecil Roth suggests that this one word was used by Nieto to cleverly claim authorship of an anonymously published controversial work beginning with the same word.[31] This work was published in 1722. Thus, this portrait must have been drawn between 1722 and 1728. 

While there is no way to determine the exact year of Morpurgo’s portrait, we can likewise limit it to within a certain time period based on the internal aspects of the portrait. The card sitting on Morpurgo’s desk displays the name of the city Ancona, though unfortunately I cannot make out the other words on the card. It is in Ancona that Morpurgo settled for the later portion of his life, marrying the daughter of Rabbi Fiametta, the rabbi of Ancona, whose position he filled after the latter’s death. Thus, it is fair to assume that the portrait was drawn somewhere between 1710[32] and 1740.

Parenthetically, this portrait depicts Morpurgo without a beard. Recent discussions have addressed the issue of the beardless rabbis of the Renaissance period and have included Morpurgo’s portrait.[33]

Portrait of Morpurgo’s Son

While researching the portrait of Shimshon Morpurgo, I came across a portrait identified as Joseph Leon Morpurgo (d. 1786), the son of Shimshon.[34]

What makes this portrait of particular interest is less its connection to his father than its correlation with Joseph’s ketubah, presently in the Jewish Theological Seminary Library.

This spectacularly ornate renaissance ketubah is unique in that it contains miniature illustrations of a bride and groom. 

Ketubah of Morpurgo’s son Yosef

Ancona 1755[35]

Are these simply generic representations of a bride and groom, or are they actual portraits of the wedding party? A “head” to “head” comparison between the portrait and the ketubah may provide some insight. 

I will leave it to the reader to decide on the extent of the similarities. The Morpurgo coat of arms also appears on the top of the ketubah.[36]

Morpurgo’s Participation in Weddings and Circumcisions

In addition to his scholarly exploits, we have record of Morpurgo’s social activities as well. Like many of his Jewish Italian Renaissance peers, he wrote occasional poetry, including for the wedding of Shabtai Marini, a fellow medical graduate of the University of Padua, though some fifteen years earlier.[37] Marini has also been identified as a rebbe of Ramchal, though evidence is scant,[38] and translated Ovid’s Metamorphosis into Hebrew.[39]

Morpurgo also wrote a wedding poem for another Marini family wedding in 1721, the union of Benjamin ben Matzliach Rava and Elena bat Gemma and Isaac ben Solomon me-Marini.[40]

We also have record of Morpurgo serving as a witness for the Ketubah of two weddings in the year 1722,[41] with one example below.[42]

We can compare Morpurgo’s signature on the ketubah to that found on the inside cover of Morpurgo’s personal copy of Rashba’s commentary on Kiddushin.[43]

A Pinkas Mohel, or circumcizor’s ledger, from his time (1705- 1736) documents his involvement in varying capacities in the circumcisions of the time, including those of his children.[44]

Conclusion

Shimshon Morpurgo is one of the more remarkable figures in Jewish history, a true Renaissance personality. From an archival perspective, he may possibly be the only pre-Modern Jewish figure for whom we possess a copy of his rabbinic ordination, medical diploma and portrait, in addition to the other notable material included here. These visual supplements to Morpurgo’s biography will hopefully further enhance our appreciation of his illustrious life. 

[1] On Morpurgo, see Edgardo Morpurgo, La Famiglia Morpurgo di Gradisca sull’Isonza 1585-1885 (Premiata Societa Cooperativa: Padova, 1909), 32–34, 65–69, 77, 104; Yeshayahu Sonne, “Letter Exchange Between R. Moshe Chagiz and R. Shimshon Morpurgo,” (Hebrew) Kobetz al Yad, 12 (1937), 157–96; M. Wilensky, “On the Rabbis of Ancona,” (Hebrew) Sinai, 25 (1949), 68–75; M. Benayahu, “Rabbi Shimshon Morpurgo,” (Hebrew) Sinai 84 (5739), 134-165; David Ruderman, “Kabbalah, Science and Christian Polemic: The Debate Between Samson Morpurgo and Solomon Aviad Sar Shalom Basilea,” in his Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery in Early Modern Europe (Yale University Press: New Haven, 1995), 213-228; A. Salah, La Republique des Lettres: Rabbins, Ecrivains et Medecins, Juifs en Italie au XVIIIe Siecle (Brill: Leiden, 2007), 455-460. On his graduation from the University of Padua, see A. Modena and E. Morpurgo, Medici e Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati e Licenziati nell’Università di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Forni Editore: Bologna, 1967), 62, n. 147. In the eighteenth century, the Inquisition in Mantua routinely confiscated Hebrew books for expurgation. Some of Morpurgo’s books were confiscated in 1732, only to be returned six years later. See S. Simonsohn, The History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua (Kiryath Sepher: Jerusalem, 1977), 694, n. 398.
[2] Abraham Ofir Shemesh, “Two Responsa of R. Samson Morpurgo on Non-Kosher Medicines: Therapy vs. Jewish Halakhic Principles,” Journal for the Study of Religions and Ideologies 18:52 (Spring 2019), 3-16. In his introduction to his philosophical work Eitz Ha-Da’at (Venice, 1704), 3b, Morpurgo mentions his plans to write a manual on the laws of treifot which would include extensive anatomical discussions and illustrations. We have no record of this idea ever coming to fruition. Chaim Meiselman wrote a brief article for the University of Pennsylvania Library blog (Pennrare.wordpress.com) entitled, “An Illustrated Manuscript for Terefot: CAJS Rar Ms 480,” (February 27, 2019). Here he discusses an anonymous Italian manuscript on treifot with detailed illustrations and anatomical notes. Could this somehow be related to Morpurgo?
[3] Ruderman, op. cit.
[4] See Sonne, op. cit; Yaakov Shmuel Speigel, “The Beginning of the Ramchal Polemic: Four New Letters from the Manuscripts of Rabbi Shimshon Morpurgo,” (Hebrew) HaMa’ayan 231 (Tishrei, 5780), 324-355; idem, “The Ramchal Polemic: The Complete Letter Sent by R’ Moshe Chagiz to R’ Shimshon Morpurgo,” (Hebrew) Da’at 89 (2020), 371-404. I thank Eliezer Brodt for this source.
[5]  (Vendramin: Venice, 1743).
[6] See the National Library of Israel’s International Collection of Digitized Hebrew Manuscripts, https://web.nli.org.il/sites/nlis/en/manuscript, s. v., “Samson Morpurgo.”
[7] See E. Reichman, “The Valmadonna Trust Broadsides: A Virtual Reunion for the Jewish Medical Students of the University of Padua,” Verapo Yerapei 7 (2017): 55-76.
[8] See E. Reichman, “The ‘Doctored’ Medical Diploma of Samuel, the Son of Menasseh ben Israel: Forgery or ‘For Jewry’,” Seforim Blog (here), March 23, 2021; idem, “Confessions of a Would-Be Forger: The Medical Diploma of Tobias Cohn (Tuvia HaRofeh) and other Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua,” forthcoming in K. Collins and S. Kottek, eds., Ma’ase Tuviya (Venice, 1708): Tuviya Cohen on Medicine and Science (Jerusalem: Muriel and Philip Berman Medical Library of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2019), in press.[9] Morpurgo, op. cit., 65-68.
[10]  For example, the name of one of the witnesses is written in the book as “Sabbetteo. Vith [?] Marini hil.” while it appears clear in the original- Sabbatheo Vita Marini Phil (short for philosophy and medicine degree).
[11] I thank Dr. Andreina Contessa, former Chief Curator of the museum, for kindly providing me with the images of this diploma.
[12] The pictures of stone below appear on the cover of Marjetka Bedrac and Andrea Morpurgo, The Morpurgos, the Descendants of the Maribor Jews (Center Judovske Kulturne Dediscine Sinagoga, 2018). The fourth image appears at the top of a ketubah for the wedding of Zechariah ben Shemariah Morpurgo and Luna bat Isaac ben Shemariah Morpurgo in Venice on Wednesday, 14 Nisan 5472 (April 9, 1712). The item was auctioned by Sotheby’s, Important Judaica (December 19, 2018), item 153. There is an author named Michael Morpurgo who wrote a book titled, “Why the Whales Came.” I wonder if this is more than coincidence.
[13] For further discussion of these students and their diplomas, see Reichman, “Confessions,” op. cit.
[14] If the graduate requested, a portrait would be drawn in the medallion. There was an addition fee for this service
[15] Benayahu, op. cit., 157.
[16] For more on Briel and his circle of medical students, see Reichman, “Valmadonna,” op. cit.
[17] System n. 990001800790205171.
[18] Venice (1677) JTS B (NS) PP489
[19] The text is preserved in Edgardo Morpurgo, op. cit., 69.
[20] Awarding a person and his heirs for exceptional behavior was common practice in Europe at this time. Other Jewish families benefitted from this practice. For example, Benjamin Ravid writes, “In 1616, in accordance with the privilege granted by the Council of Ten 150 years earlier to David Mavrogonato of Crete that in return for his untiring services to Venice he and his heirs were, among other favors, to be exempted from the special Jewish distinguishing sign, the Cattaveri granted the request of Elie Mavrogonato of Crete to be allowed to wear a black capello.” See Benjamin Ravid, “From Yellow to Red: On the Distinguishing Head-Covering of the Jews of Venice,” Jewish History 6:1-2 (1992), 179-210, esp. 196. Ravid mentions other family members who benefitted from these privileges.
[21]  http://www.sothebys.com/en/auctions/ecatalogue/2015/important-judaica-n09447/lot.14.html (accessed April 17, 2021).
[22] Item number: ICMS-EIT-0825.
[23] C. Roth, The History of the Jews in Italy (Jewish Publication Society: Philadelphia, 1946), opposite p. 401. Roth identifies the portrait as an oil painting in the possession of the Morpurgo family. I have as yet been unable to identify the location of the original work. I have consulted museums, libraries and members of the Morpurgo family to no avail. All the copies of this portrait I have identified all seem to be from this one source. I have found no discussion or source detailing the whereabouts of the portrait or the identity of its author.
[24] A copy of this picture is pinned to the inside cover of Morpurgo’s original medical diploma in the U. Nahon Museum.
[25] Pawel Maciejko has recently added to the scholarship on this topic, which has included studies on the works of Rembrandt. See P. Maciejko, “A Portrait of the Kabbalist as a Young Man: Count Joseph Carl Emmanuel Waldstein and His Retinue,” Jewish Quarterly Review 106:4 (Fall 2016), 521-576, esp. 529-537. Maciejko notes that, “While Hebrew inscriptions were commonplace in Western paintings, representations of Hebrew books were rare.”
[26] On Nieto’s portrait, see Macienko, op. cit., 533-536; OntheMainline Blog, “David Nieto, an Art Mystery and the Joys of Digitized Books”  (October 9, 2009) http://onthemainline.blogspot.com/2009/10/david-nieto-art-mystery-and-joys-of.html (accessed April 17, 2021); F. Landsberger, “The Jewish Artist Before the Time of Emancipation,” Hebrew Union College Annual 16 (1941), 321-414, esp. 387-388.
[27]  A few books on the shelf of Nieto’s portrait appear to bear a title, though I cannot decipher them.
[28] The clarity and detail of the Nieto portrait appears far superior, but this may simply be a reflection of the quality of the reproduction.
[29] The phrase from Tehillim does not appear in his work, Eitz ha-Da’at, or in his responsa, Shemesh Tzedakah, published posthumously by his son, Moshe Hayyim Shabtai.
[30] According to Landsberger, op. cit., the reproduction here in mezzotint, done by I. MacArdell, did not appear until 1728, the year of Nieto’s death. The original oil painting upon which this work is based is lost today.
[31] See OntheMainline blog, “David Nieto, an Art Mystery and the Joys of Digitized Books”  (October 9, 2009) http://onthemainline.blogspot.com/2009/10/david-nieto-art-mystery-and-joys-of.html (accessed April 17, 2021); Cecil Roth, “The Marrano Typography in England,” The Library 5:2 (1960), 118-128, esp. 121-122.
[32] According to Benayahu, op. cit., 139, the earliest documentation placing Morpurgo in Ancona dates from July, 1711.
[33]See http://onthemainline.blogspot.com/2011/01/beards-and-beardlessness-in-italian.html (accessed April 17, 2021). Here the author writes, “apparently the native Jews of Salonica were scandalized by the closely trimmed beards of the Francos who lived among them. They demanded that they grow them or be expelled. The situation of the ex-pat Italians came to the attention of the Italian rabbis, including one of the foremost ones,  Samson Morpurgo (Shemesh Tzedakah #61). Morpurgo interceded on their behalf attempting to prevent the Salonica community from expelling those not sporting a full beard. It is pointed out that Morpurgo himself, as per the above portrait, was beardless.”

There is a portrait on myheritage.com which is identified as being that of Dr. Samson Morpurgo. Attempts to contact the curator of the site to learn more about the portrait were unsuccessful.

It depicts an older man with a salt and pepper beard. This man is dressed in garb similar to Morpurgo and is likewise seated at a desk with a feather and quill. I have no additional information to corroborate this identification and have seen no reference to this portrait elsewhere. If indeed verified, this would not only add to our visual history, it would also alter the discussion about Morpurgo’s beardlessness.
[34] The portrait is found on the MyHeritage.com website. Attempts to contact the curator of the site to learn more about the portrait were unsuccessful.
[35] JTS Library Ketubah 5 record # 265985. I thank Sharon Liberman Mintz for bringing this ketubah to my attention.
[36] Apparently as both the bride and groom were members of the Morpurgo family only one coat of arms was included.
[37] David Kaufmann Collection of Medieval Hebrew manuscripts in the Oriental Collection of the Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences, n. 580, p. 21. I thank Kinga Devenyi from the Kaufmann Collection in Budapest for providing a copy of this poem. While the poem is unsigned, Benayahu provides definitive proof that Morpurgo is the author. For additional information on Marini and this poem, see M. Benayahu, “Rabbi Avraham Ha-Kohen Mi-Zanti U-Lehakat Ha-Rof ’im Ha-Meshorerim Be-Padova,” Ha-Sifrut 26 (1978): 108-40, esp. 110-111.
[38] See OntheMainline blog (October 20, 2010), http://onthemainline.blogspot.com/2010/10/ramchals-rebbe-rabbi-sabbato-marini-of.html (accessed April 17, 2021). There, the rebbe of Ramchal, as well as the picture below are identified as Rabbi Dr. Shabtai Aharon Chaim Marini (1685-1762).

According to Laura Roumani, whose dissertation is on Shabtai Hayyim Marini, both the picture and rebbe of Ramchal are Shabtai Hayyim Marini (1662-1748). In addition, according to Roumani, “Shabbetay Aharon Hayyim Marini is not the one born in 1685 who died in 1762. That is Shabbetay son of Aharon Marini who got his degree in medicine in 1705. He belongs to another lineage of the family. Shabbetay Aharon Hayyim Marini passed away in 1809 and was a rabbi in the Spanish synagogue of Padua. He was the son of Shelomoh Marini son of Shabbetay Hayyim and the father of Armellina Stella Rahel Marini who married Avraham Sevi HaLevi who inherited all the autographs of Shabbetay Hayyim Marini.” See Laura Roumani, “Le Metamorfosi di Ovidio nella traduzione ebraica di Shabbetay Hayyim Marini di Padova” [Ovid’s Metamorphoses translated into Hebrew by Shabtai Ḥayim Marini from Padua] (PhD diss., University of Turin, 1992). See also L. Roumani, “The Legend of Daphne and Apollo in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Translated into Hebrew by Shabbetay Ḥayyim Marini” [in Italian], Henoch (Turin University) 13 (1991): 319–335.
[39] Joseph Almanzi composed an ode to Marini in his Nezem Zahav:

[40] JTS Ms. 9027 V2:29. The poem is signed זה שמ”י לעלם and the author is not identified in the JTS catalogue. As per correspondence with Laura Roumani, “The author is Shimshon Morpurgo (who used to sign as Shmi, shin mem being the initials of his name). Elena was the daughter of Gemma second wife of Yishaq Marini, Shabbetay Hayyim Marini’s father. The wedding took place after 1721 (Yishaq was deceased). Though Shelomoh Marini is mentioned, he was not Yishaq Marini’s father. Yishaq was the son of Shabbetay Marini the doctor, brother of Shelomoh.”
[41] National Library of Israel, system number 000301332 and system number 004092777.
[42] system number 004092777. The wedding of Shmuel Moshe Hakohen and Diamante Hakohen.
[43] This sefer is part of the Shimeon Brisman Collection in Jewish Studies at Washington University in St. Louis. http://omeka.wustl.edu/omeka/exhibits/show/brisman/item/6997 (accessed April 16, 2021).
[44] See University of Pennsylvania Library, CAJS Rar Ms 503 (https://franklin.library.upenn.edu/catalog/FRANKLIN_9969495443503681). The catalogue notes references to Morpurgo on pages 16r and 24r. There is an additional mention of Morpurgo on page 32v (item 167), which is pictured here. The name Morpurgo spans across two lines.