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The Illusory Portrait of R. Yom Tov Lipmann Heller: Deceptive Art and Jewish Images in Vienna

The Illusory Portrait of R. Yom Tov Lipmann Heller: Deceptive Art and Jewish Images in Vienna

By: Dan Rabinowitz

For if I am deceived, I am.
for he who is not, cannot be deceived;
and if I am deceived,
by this same token I am.

Wolfgang Kemp after St Augustine of Hippo
(Epigraph to Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion)

On October 8, 2024, Vienna’s Museum of Fine Arts, the Kunsthistorisches Museum, opened the exhibit “Rembrandt – Hoogstraten Colour and Illusion.” The museum’s permanent collection features remarkable works by Rembrandt, including a self-portrait and a now-confirmed portrait of his son, Titus van Rijn. This exhibit showcased many more items from its collection and loans from other museums. The term “illusion” in the exhibition’s title primarily refers to Samuel van Hoogstraten, a student of Rembrandt, and his exceptional use of the trompe-l’oeil technique. Trompe-l’oeil, from French, “fools the eye,” is an art that typically uses architectural elements, light, and perspective to trick the viewer into seeing a three-dimensional image, even when rendered on a single plane. Hoogstraten was one of the most skilled practitioners of this technique. It remains among the canonical approaches to art. Most recently, the Metropolitan Museum of Art recently held an exhibition, “Cubism and the Trompe-l’oeil Tradition,” featuring works by Picasso and his contemporaries.

In the lead-up to the Vienna museum’s exhibit, the city’s Morris columns were adorned with posters, and large billboards were scattered throughout the city announcing the exhibit. There were three variations of these advertisements: one featuring a Rembrandt self-portrait and two “illusory” portraits, Rembrandt’s “Girl in the Window” and Hoogstraten’s “Old Man at a Window.” In Rembrandt’s painting, the girl gazes directly at the viewer, gripping the exterior window frame, with her fingers extending beyond it. Combined with Rembrandt’s unparalleled usage of light and color, the image is unsettlingly realistic, even when reproduced in books.

Hoogstraten’s painting, “Old Man at a Window,” depicts an old, wizened, bearded man, crowned with a round fur hat, seemingly poking his head out of the window like a gargoyle protruding from the building. While the exhibit’s advertisements are silent about the man’s identity, many Orthodox Jews might recognize him as R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller, the author of, among other works, the Tosefos Yom Tov commentary on the Mishna. Heller is associated with Vienna, having served as its Chief Rabbi in the early 17th century; however, art historians and Jewish scholars have conclusively shown the impossibility of this being an authentic representation of Heller. Nonetheless, much like the trompe l’oeil technique, the Old Man at a Window continues to deceive, and many still believe it is Heller.

Figure 1 Samuel Von Hoogstraten, Old Man at a Window, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Rabbi Heller’s Chronicle of Imprisonment & Redemption

Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman Heller was born in 1578 in Wallerstein, a small village in Southern Germany, home to around twenty Jewish families (Davis 21). As a teenager, he married into a prominent family in Prague. His perspicacity and deep knowledge were quickly recognized, and at 19, he was appointed to serve on the Prague Beis Din, overseeing the largest Jewish community in Christian Europe (Davis 25-33). A year later, he published his first book, a somewhat unusual choice for a traditional rabbinic scholar, a commentary on the philosophical work Behinas Olam. He subsequently authored dozens of books across varied genres, completing his magnum opus, Tosefos Yom Tov in Heshvan 1616 (Davis 225-231). His identity quickly became bound up with this work, and even on the epitaph of his daughters’ headstone from 1639, he is referred to by the book and not his given name (Muneles 321). (The book’s original title is Tosefes Yom Tov, and later Tosefos Yom Tov. While some posit that this change was first documented in 1653, it already appears on the epitaph. (cf. Haberman 125n1)). He also “left ample records of himself… books, letters, archival documents, responsa, poems, prayers, sermons, commentaries, and even a memoir” (Davis 1). Nevertheless, there are no surviving portraits or other images.

Rabbi Heller spent time in Vienna on two occasions. The first, in 1625, he was induced to leave Prague for Vienna’s chief rabbi position. Despite his short tenure of only two years, he scored a significant victory for the Viennese Jewish community. Until then, it was dispersed throughout the city, and Heller secured the right for the community to reside in a single area and strengthen its ties. That cohesion was shattered in 1670 when Emperor Leopold I expelled them (one of the many expulsions Viennese Jews suffered), and the area was renamed after its extirpator, Leopoldstadt. Prague, however, drew him back, and in 1627, he took on the role of chief rabbi there.

Just two years later, some of the city’s Jewish community bristled at his involvement in tax collection, accusing him of determining tax rates unfairly. In June 1629, they denounced him to the government, which resulted in his arrest and summons to Vienna. He recounts the events in his autobiographical work, Megilas Eivah—an allusion to the first letters of the first four words of Megilas Eicha, written between 1644 and 1648. Initially placed under house arrest, he was imprisoned on the 17th of Tammuz and confined in a common jail with prisoners awaiting execution. He was denied visitors and remained isolated, “no one could speak with him, even via the window.” Two days later, following appeals from the Jewish community, he was transferred to a special prison and granted visitation rights. After forty days, the community agreed to pay a substantial fine, and he was released, almost immediately departing for Prague, never to return to Vienna. By 1643, he arrived in Krakow, where he served as chief Rabbi until his death in 1654. 

Megilas Eivah circulated in various manuscripts but was published only in 1836 (Davis 228 n31). While its authenticity is beyond doubt, the additional section that first appeared in the Hebrew 1880 edition is considered a forgery. Allegedly written by Heller’s son Samuel, it “has a quality reminiscent of Dumas and The Three Musketeers: [Heller] saves a young woman from a bull, and her husband, the French ambassador, intercedes on behalf of Rabbi Yom-Tov.” In 1905, “Moritz Steinschneider identified the source as based on a short story written by Ludwig Philippson (1811‒89), a rabbi and journalist, and the author of a series of Jewish historical novelettes and stories for young readers” (Davis 146 n36).

Samuel van Hoogstraten, Master of Illusion

Samuel van Hoogstraten was born in Dordrecht, one of the oldest cities in the Netherlands, on August 2, 1627. He was the eldest child of the artist Dirk van Hoogstraten and Maeiken de Coninck. Samuel started his art studies with his father, continuing until his father passed away in 1640. Around 1642, Samuel moved to Amsterdam and began studying under Rembrandt. He rapidly proved himself to be a standout student, leading classes, reviewing his classmates’ work, and so effectively absorbing his teachers’ lessons, that some of his works were mistakenly attributed to Rembrandt (Brusati 16-31). As part of the preparation for the current exhibit, “Young Woman at an Open Half-Door” (1645) has been reassigned to Hoogstraten (Illes; Van Sloten 125).

In 1651, Samuel traveled to Vienna, the epicenter of power and prestige within the Hapsburg Empire, seeking to enhance his reputation and standing among elite society. He succeeded almost immediately. Samuel’s student, Arnold Houbraken, recounted how, on August 6, 1651, Samuel presented three of his paintings to the emperor. The first two were well received, but “the third piece,” in the trompe l’oeil style, was a still life that captivated the Emperor, who appeared to be completely taken by it. He looked at it for a long time and, finding himself still deceived, said, ‘This is the first painter who has deceived me.’ And he went on to say that he would not get the picture back as a punishment for that deception, for the Emperor wished to keep it forever.” (Houbraken 2:157-58). However, Samuel did not leave empty-handed. The Emperor awarded him an imperial medallion and a gold chain, which he took immense pride in; this would become a standard element in his subsequent self-portraits and among the items he viewed as symbolic of successful artists (Hoogstraten 371-72; Brusati 54).

Hoogstraten broadly characterized art as a form of deception. In his magnum opus on the theory of painting and color, Inleyding tot de hooge schoole der schilderkonst: anders de zichtbaere werelt (Introduction to the Academy of Painting; or, The Visible World), he describes what he considers the “perfect painting.” It “is like a mirror of nature; it makes things that are not there appear to exist and deceives in a permissible, pleasurable, and praiseworthy way” (Hoogstraten 79). One way to achieve this effect is by combining architectural elements such as open doors or windows and adding “some figures” to the composition, “by which many have been artfully deceived” (Hoogstraten 304). He takes pride in having accomplished this with his paintings completed in Vienna. One is “Old Man at a Window,” painted in 1653. (Brusati 65).

The Religious Conversion and Reversion of the Old Man at a Window 

The earliest catalogs describing the painting Old Man at a Window do not mention the man’s religious affiliation. It was not until the 19th century that two scholars suggested a Jewish connection, and even then, there was no mention of Heller. Nonetheless, this association never gained traction, and the painting continued to be described without any reference to Jews. We must wait until the 1950s for Heller’s connection to emerge. However, that link lacked any supporting evidence, leaving us in the dark about what prompted the change from an Old Man to Heller. Even that association was quickly dismissed due to the significant gap between when Heller was imprisoned and when Hoogstraten painted Old Man at a Window.

The 1653 painting is one of the first works by Hoogstraten that Emperor Charles II acquired for his castle in Prague, possibly commissioned specifically for him. The painting is described in detail in an early catalog:

No. 4. By Samuel van Hoogstraten. A lifelike, grey-bearded old man looks out of a window. His fur hat, the furrows on his face from his age, and his grey beard are so well painted that one believes one can see nature itself in each one. Hoogstraten, who did not only paint as a mere colorist, showed his deep insight into the subject and reflected light in the chiaroscuro and the deep and penetrating shadows. Just look at the head . . ., and you will find that in it, the master’s hand, which . . . expresses itself quite magnificently. The lead on the round window pane, the wooden frame, that is the glass frame, is also very well painted, but the window’s stone frame makes you believe entirely that it is the work of a mason, almost as if you can see the mason’s hand on it. The straw stalk lying on the window stone, the feather, and the bottle standing there are no less well-painted and serve to prove the excellence of the whole. This picture is painted on canvas, 3 feet 6 inches high, 2 feet and 9 inches wide. The head is life-size. The artist has engraved his monogram and the year 1653 on the window stone of this painting” (Rigler 163-164).

During the 17th century, two inventories were created for the collection. In both, the painting is described as “a man sticking his head out of the window through the shutter,” without any reference to the man’s religious affiliation or any connection to Rabbi Heller (Köpl clvnn330; Brusati 361n76). Hoogstraten’s Old Man at a Window was relocated to Vienna after the Habsburgs acquired the Belvedere Palace in the 1730s. The Palace is perhaps best known today for Gustav Klimt’s “The Kiss” and other notable Viennese Expressionists. In one of the earliest catalogs of the Belvedere by Christian van Mechel from 1783, the subject is referred to simply as a “grey-bearded man with a round fur hat on his head, looking out curiously from a window” (Mechel 84n4). That is how the description remained, unadorned with any religious identity until the 19th century.

In the 19th century, two descriptions of the Old Man at a Window added his religion: he was a Jew. In 1839, German art historian Georg Rathgeber, in his study of Netherlandish art, asserts that “this picture’s title is “Böhmischen Juden,” “Bohemian Jew.’” Rathgeber disputes the identification not for its lack of historicity but because “the character of the facial features does not seem to correspond very well to” his antisemitic views on Jewish physiognomy (Rathgeber 147). Similarly, in 1861, French art critic Charles Blanc, in his encyclopedic work Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles, asserts that the Belvedere catalog now refers to the painting as “Un vieux juif (dit le Catalogue)” or “an old Jew (as it appears in the Catalog)” (Blanc 4). This portrait impressed Blanc and is among the few he reproduced in his discussion of Hoogstraten (Blanc 1). However, Blanc is notorious for identifying Jews in Rembrandt’s and his school’s works without any supporting evidence (Knotter and Schwartz 7-9). Contrary to the “catalog’s identification,” Blanc, like Rathgeber, asserts that the face “is not Israelite” (Blanc 2). Neither Blanc nor Rathgeber mentions Rabbi Heller.

 

Figure 2 Charles Blanc, Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles

Blanc’s and Rathgeber’s Jewish association did not take hold. For example, G.H. Veth, in his 1889 article discussing artists from Dordrecht, including Hoogstraten, cites Blanc and notes his reproduction of Old Man. However, Veth describes it without mentioning any Jewish connections (Veth 145). Similarly, a 1903 tour guidebook of Vienna confirms that at the Belvedere, the painting’s title remains unchanged as “Old Man at a Window” (Baedeker 73; cf. Gerson, 282).

Despite the absence of objective evidence and the dismissal of Blanc’s and Rathgeber’s 19th-century Semitic connection, one scholar in the 1950s cryptically associated Rabbi Heller with Hoogstraten’s painting. Margarethe Poch-Kalous, the head of the Academy of Fine Arts in Vienna (Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien), in her 1959 survey of Dutch art in Vienna, refers to the figure as “ein bärtiger alter Mann (Rabbi Heller),” “a bearded old man (Rabbi Heller)” (Poch-Kalous 198). The basis for her identification is opaque. Poch-Kalous’ two citations offer no support; neither mentions Heller nor suggests that the figure is even Jewish, nor does she reference Blanc or Rathgeber (Poch-Kalous 198 citing Engerth 207n928 and Köpl clvnn330).

Oddly, unlike other personalities, artists, and subjects discussed in her article, which consistently include personal names and birth and death dates, Poch-Kalous provides nothing beyond “Rabbi Heller.” This is especially puzzling for an article in the Jahrbuch der Kunsthistorische Sammlungen, whose readership is unlikely to be sufficiently familiar with the history of 17th-century Bohemian rabbis to provide the missing details.

Whatever the basis for Poch-Kalous’s connection between Hoogstraten’s painting and Heller, it was swiftly dismissed. In 1972, Klaus Demus, the art historian and curator at the Kunsthistorisches Museum, demonstrated that it was impossible for Heller to be the model. He explains that Heller was imprisoned in 1629, and by 1644, he was serving as a rabbi in Krakow, where he remained until his death in 1654. Hoogstraten, who was only two years old when Heller was imprisoned in Vienna, painted Old Man at a Window in 1653, long after Heller had left Vienna (Demus 47-48). Today, the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s website alludes to Poch-Kalous’ attribution and rejection: “According to a tradition that is now presumed to be mistaken, the man is Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller.” Hoogstraten’s “deception” and “illusion” did not extend to rendering persons he never saw.

Illustrious Jews and Illusionary Jewish Sources

Jewish sources similarly are not more persuasive in linking Heller to Hoogstraten’s painting. Generally, rabbinic portraits prior to the 19th century lack authenticity (Cohen), and Heller is no exception. Most of the few early verifiable images exist as frontispieces in books rather than as paintings, and none depict Eastern European rabbis. Heller’s image first appears in Jewish sources in the early twentieth century. It depicts an old man, yet he is completely different from Hoogstraten’s version. The first instance of Heller masquerading as the Old Man at a Window is over a decade after Demus debunks that theory!

Figure 3 Bader, Drasig Doyres, 175

The first Jewish source of an alleged portrait of Rabbi Heller appears in a Yiddish collection of stories and hagiographies of rabbis in Gerson Bader’s Drasig Doyres Yiden in Poylen, published in 1927 (Bader 175). Bader’s depiction of Rabbi Heller does not resemble the individual shown in Hoogstraten. Bader claims that his source is an “old drawing,” yet he does not provide any further details, such as where or when it was published.

Bader’s book features other alleged rabbinic images from “old drawings” that are demonstratably false. For example, Bader’s portrait of R. Aaron Shmuel Kaidanover, author of the Birkas ha-Zevach on Kodshim, is of the Karaite and forger Avraham Firkovich (1787-1875) (Bader 185). It is undoubtedly Firkovich, as it appears in his Avnei Zikaron, published in 1872, during his lifetime. Similarly, Bader misattributes Joseph Delmedigo’s (1591-1655) portrait from the frontispiece of his Sefer Elim (Amsterdam, 1629), and the photo of R. Shmuel Salant by Zadok Bassan, assigning them to alternative rabbinic figures (Bader 204, 321). Nonetheless, Bader’s depiction of Heller was often reproduced, to the extent that in a 2000 biography of Heller, it is referred to as “iyur amimi nafuts shel ha-Tosefos Yom Tov,” “the widespread folk image of the Tosefos Yom Tov” (Herskovics 32).

Figure 4 Bader, Drasig Doyres Yiden in Poylen, 175.

Figure 5 Firkovich, Avnei Zikhron, From the Gross Family Collection, The Center for Jewish Art

It was only in 1984 that a Jewish source connected the Hoogstraten painting to Rabbi Heller. The cover of the book The Feast and the Fast: The Dramatic Personal Story of Yom Tov Lipman Heller, a translation of Megilas Eivah, depicts Rabbi Heller in prison and is modeled on the figure in the Hoogstraten painting. To eliminate any doubt about the source of the cover art, the back of the book features reproductions of title pages from Heller’s works and his gravestone, along with a photo “of the drawing in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna, Austria, entitled ‘Man at the Window’ (1653) by Samuel Van Hoogstraten (1627-1678)” (Lipschitz and Rosenstein). A similar image was used for the cover illustration of another translation of Megilas Eivah published in 1991 (Heller). The English section of the 2000 biography of Heller reproduces the cover of The Feast and the Fast, describing it as “featuring a picture of the Tosefot Yom Tov” (Herskovics 101). However, it does not attempt to reconcile this image with the clearly different “widespread folk image” presented in the Hebrew section of the biography. Although not mentioned in any of these sources, they were presumably misled by the bars on the window. However, those are not prison bars; rather, as was common in that era, the windows were supported by these architectural elements (Hermans 249).

Figure 6 Cover, Feast and the Fast, 1984

By 1999, however, Jewish sources also recognized the impossibility of associating Heller with the painting. R Ya’akov Yeruchum Wreschner republished Megilas Eivah based on four editions and two manuscripts and includes a comprehensive introduction regarding Heller. In two footnotes within the introduction, Wreschner briefly addresses Heller’s connection, or lack thereof, to Old Man at a Window. Like Demas, Wreschner contends that the nearly twenty-five-year gap between Heller’s departure from Vienna and Hoogstraten’s painting of Old Man renders it impossible for Heller to have been the model. Wreschner asks rhetorically, how could Hoogstraten “paint Rabbenu [Heller] when he never set eyes on him?” (Wreschner Megilas 48n3). Wreschner also contacted the Kunsthistorisches Museum and received a response confirming that “not only is it not the Rabbi, but it is not even a Jew” (Wreschner Megilas 17n4). As a result, Wreschner refused to reproduce that portrait in his book. Similarly, despite being titled Portrait of a Seventeenth-Century Rabbi, the most recent academic biography of Heller by Joseph Davis includes neither the Hoogstraten portrait nor any other image of Heller (Davis).

In 2024, Wreschner published a significantly revised and retitled edition of his book. Despite discrediting Heller’s connection to the painting over twenty years ago, various Jewish books, newspapers, and other ephemera continue to publish Old Man at a Window and link it to Heller (e.g., Alfasi 137; Stern 184-86; Berman). Wreschner was, therefore, compelled to revisit the painting, presenting additional arguments and greater detail regarding his discussions with the Kunsthistorisches Museum.

Wreschner, in 1999, first spoke telephonically with the Director of the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Dr. Karl Schütz, who confirmed that the painting was not connected to Heller. Schütz followed up with a letter detailing the sources for his rejection. Schütz stated that, with one exception, from the earliest catalogs to contemporary analyses of the painting, it was never associated with any specific individual, Jewish or otherwise. This is consistent with Hoogstraten’s intent, showcasing the trompe l’oeil technique rather than portraiture. The only time it appears – in Demus’s “detailed catalog of Dutch painters from 1972”—is solely to repudiate Poch-Kalous’s chronologically impossible and otherwise undocumented connection to Heller. Schütz also discredited the claim that following the Anschluss, the painting was categorized as Jewish art and consigned to the museum’s basement. On the contrary, a coterminous catalog lists the painting among those on display.

Despite Wreschner’s certitude about Schütz’s rejection, for unclear reasons, Wreschner attributes an otherwise unrecorded episode to Schütz. This alleged event appears to offer some support for linking Heller to the painting, but it is completely absent from the letter. According to Wreschner, the letter references an event in 1972 when an unidentified Jew approached the museum and claimed there was “a tradition that it was Tosefos Yom Tov” (Wreschner 2024, 24-26). The museum expressed skepticism about that tradition but did not completely dismiss it. In Wreschner’s retelling, it suggested the possibility that “a Jew conjured up Heller’s image and Hoogstraten copied it.” The actual text of the letter directly contradicts Wreschner’s account. Schütz references 1972 not as the date of an important meeting that supports the “legend” but as the first substantial discussion – by Demus – and his definitive rebuttal without mentioning a meeting with the Jew.

Beyond Schütz’s letter, Wreschner adds internal reasons why the painting cannot depict Heller in jail. The window is large enough for the man to stick his head out and features high-quality glass, an uncommon design for a prison. Furthermore, the expensive fur hat worn by the Man at a Window is an unlikely accessory in a prison housing hardened criminals sentenced to death and an incongruous headpiece for the July heat when Heller was imprisoned. Wreschner could have included another element in the painting that contrasts with a prison – the wall behind the Old Man has patterned wallpaper.

Following his earlier edition, Wreschner learned of an earlier source linking Heller to the painting, which is summarily dismissed. R. Shimon Fuerst, who lived in Vienna before 1940, in his book, Shem mi-Shimon, published in 1967, recalls visiting the museum where he saw firsthand “the painting made during the imprisonment” (Fuerst 426). Wreschner is unmoved by Fuerst’s identification. First, Fuerst was not an expert on Heller. Fuerst writes that Heller left Vienna to assume the Chief Rabbi position in Krakow, which is false. After his release, Heller returned to Prague, only leaving for Krakow fifteen years later. Aside from this obvious mistake, Fuerst’s opinion is irrelevant. Wreschner does not dispute Fuerst’s rabbinic bona fides, yet he is not an art historian. When faced with questions of rabbinic law, we defer to rabbis, but, according to Wreschner, “when it comes to questions of attribution of art, we look to experts in that field” (Wreschner 2024, 26). Regardless of the reliability of Fuerst’s claim, the mystery of Poche-Kalous’ source remains unsolved as her work predates Fuerst’s by four years.

Going Once, Twice, Three Times – Sold!

The identification of Heller with the Old Man at a Window is not the first, nor likely the last portrait erroneously attributed to a well-known Jew. One such example is the “traditional” portrait of the founder of the Hassidic movement, R Yisrael Ba’al Shem Tov. This portrait depicts a Ba’al Shem, a Wonderworker, but not Yisrael; rather, it is of Ya’akov Falk of London (Oron). He was an alchemist and an eccentric, and according to R Ya’akov Emden, a crypto-Sabbatian. However, evidence does not always prevail. Books and numerous sukkah decorations continue to utilize this portrait.

There is even another Hoogstraten portrait that falls into this category. A 1670 Hoogstraten portrait now in the Jewish Museum in New York was previously associated with Baruch (Bento, Benedictus) Spinoza. This is just one of many alleged portraits of Spinoza. Yet, most, if not all, lack independent verification or directly contradict the existing evidence (Ekkart). Indeed, “It is the same with the portraits as with so many other aspects of Spinoza’s life: little can be said with any certainty” (qtd. in Ekkart 25). This portrait was first linked to Spinoza in 1929, partly based on “a slip of paper on the back bearing the scholar’s name” (Ekkart 5). It is unclear who made that determination or even when the paper was inserted into the back of the painting. Consequently, the Jewish Museum now describes the painting as “Portrait of a Man (previously thought to be Baruch Spinoza).”

Similarly, despite art historians and Jewish sources resoundingly rejecting Heller’s connection to the Old Man at a Window, it seems unlikely that the idea of Hoogstraten depicting Heller will be dislodged in the collective Jewish consciousness. The attribution is so deeply ingrained that someone spent a staggering $120,000 before fees on a late 19th-century reproduction of Hoogstraten’s painting.

Figure 7 Lot 318, Kestenbaum Auctions, March 12, 2014

In 2014, the American Judaica auction house Kestenbaum & Company listed an 1887 painting described as “Yom Tov Lipman Heller, Portrait: Imprisoned in Vienna,” with a $12,000-$18,000 estimate. The portrait also served as the front cover image of the catalog. It is described as “the celebrated portrait of the Tosefos Yom Tov” and claims that Hoogstraten “painted Rabbi Heller in 1653 and entitled it ‘Old Man in the Window.’” The catalog warns that “it is not known if van Hoogstraten ever met or saw [Heller]; however, it is likely that he was aware of the Rembrandt (School) painting of 1643 entitled ‘Portrait of an Old Jew’ (today in the National Gallery of Denmark) – where a similar, bearded Jewish man, with head cocked, looks emotively at the viewer.” Scholars acknowledge that elements of Man at a Window and other Hoogstraten paintings evoke “the face studies of costumed figures routinely produced in Rembrandt’s studio,” but this does not transform the man into a Jew, let alone Rabbi Heller. The Jewish identification of the painting in the National Gallery of Denmark is also of questionable relevance. Some aspects of that painting, most notably the chain around the man’s neck, make it highly unlikely that it depicts a Jew (Alexander-Knotter 80-81). The catalog’s only citation for attributing the subject to Heller is the 1984 book, The Fast and the Feast, mentioned earlier. It does not reference Demus’ or Wreschner’s discussions that challenge that attribution. 

The significance assigned to the artistic rendition of the original is also debatable. The 1887 reproduction bears the signature of the artist “Paul Krüger.” However, Krüger was not a recognized artist; instead, it was a commercial reproduction company in Vienna that commonly attached its labels to the works. Its full name is “Paul Krüger Atelier für Porträtmalerei in Wien” (Paul Krüger Studio for Portrait Painting in Vienna). The studio functioned in the late 19th century and reproduced numerous paintings from the Kunsthistorisches Museum. Today, for those wanting to display a similar commercial reproduction of the painting on their wall, it is available through many websites that specialize in creating highly accurate copies of famous artworks. One such site offers a hand-painted version, almost the exact size of the original, with a similar frame, for about $1,400.

 

If the buyer had waited a year, they could have acquired an earlier reproduction by a recognized and significant artist. On May 18, 2015, Ferdinand Waldmüller’s (1793-1865) painting “Old Man at the Window,” modeled after Hoogstraten and executed in 1819, was auctioned with an estimate of €22,400 to €28,000. Unlike Krüger’s shop, which served as a commercial entity, Waldmüller is regarded as one of “the most important Austrian painters of the Biedermeier period.” Nevertheless, the lot remained unsold.

The Krüger copy may not be the best reproduction, but the auction catalog description proved worthwhile for reproduction. Rabbi Moshe Bamberger is the author of a series of books on “Great Jewish” items published by Artscroll. One book focuses on letters, another on important Jewish books, and another titled Great Jewish Treasures, is “A Collection of Precious Judaica, Associated with Torah Leaders.” This work contains a chapter dedicated to “Artwork” that discusses some well-known examples of rabbinic images. He ably covers several of these topics and discusses the traditional portrayal of Yisrael Ba’al Shem Tov, accurately aligning it with London’s Ba’al Shem, Jacob Falk.

Bamberger also includes a section focused on the “famous depiction of Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller (1579-1654) peering through the window of his prison cell” and reproduces a version of the Hoogstraten painting. Bamberger tries to reconcile the inconsistency between the dates of imprisonment and the time when Hoogstraten painted Old Man. Bamberger’s source is the auction catalog, yet he seems to disagree with one item: which of Rembrandt’s “Jews” Hoogstraten supposedly used as a model for Heller. Rather than the 1643 “Portrait of an Old Jew” attributed to Rembrandt’s school and currently housed in the National Gallery of Denmark; according to Bamberger, the model was the subject of a painting by Rembrandt, also titled “Portrait of an Old Jew,” now held in the Hermitage Museum in Leningrad. Bamberger does not provide a rationale for selecting the Hermitage painting over the one in the National Gallery. Nevertheless, the Hermitage painting is equally unlikely to depict a Jew and is now referred to generically as “Man in an Armchair.” (Schwartz 371-373). Ironically, Bamberger’s use of the Hermitage painting only reinforces the unlikelihood that Heller served as a model for Hoogstraten. The Hermitage Rembrandt originates from 1654, one year after “Old Man in a Window.” Hoogstraten certainly did not use a nonexistent painting to model his artistic expression.

Whether we will ever fully explicate to our satisfaction the enigmatic history of Hoogstraten’s 1653 painting Old Man at a Window, Hoogstraten’s masterful execution of the Trompe l’oeil technique makes the painting worth seeking out on its own. The exhibition closed in Vienna on January 12, 2025, but relocated to Rembrandt House in Amsterdam, “The Illusionist. Samuel van Hoogstraten,” from February 1 to May 4, 2025. The Amsterdam exhibition is entirely dedicated to Hoogstraten. To accompany the Vienna exhibit, the Kunsthistorisches Museum published a collection of articles titled Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Dr. Sabine Pénot, the Curator of Netherlandish and Dutch Paintings at the museum. This book is of excellent quality, beautifully reproducing many of the exhibit’s paintings and etchings. One article is a detailed study of Hoogstraten’s process and technique in Old Man at a Window (Hermens). While it employs various infrared and other technologies to uncover what lies beneath the surface, no rabbi is lurking behind the layers of paint.

* I want to thank Dr. Shnayer Leiman for bringing to my attention Gershom Bader as the earliest source of Heller’s representation within Jewish sources. I also wish to thank Professor Marc Michael Epstein, Professor Marc Shapiro, Dr. Lara Lempertienė, and Menachem Butler for their thorough review of the draft and invaluable feedback, Dr. Sabine Pénot for scouring the Kunsthistorisches Museum’s collection for information regarding Heller’s link to the painting, and Shaul Seidler-Feller for his expertise in translating Yiddish. Additionally, I am grateful to Rabbi Yaakov Yeruchum Wreschner for sharing his correspondence with the Kunsthistorisches Museum, and, as always, Eliezer Brodt, whose enviable encyclopedic knowledge, which he freely shares, ensured I did not overlook crucial materials.

Sources:

Alexander-Knotter, Mirjam, et al. The ‘Jewish’ Rembrandt, The Myth Unraveled. Waanders Publishers/Jewish Historical Museum, [2006].

Bader, Gershom. Drasyig Doyres Yiden in Poylen. Oriom Press, 1927.

Bamberger, Moshe. Great Jewish Treasures. Artscroll, 2015.

Blanc, Charles. Histoire des Peintres de Toutes les Écoles, vol. 2, “Samuel van Hoogstraten”. Paris, 1861.

Brusati, Celeste. Artifice and Illusion: The Art and Writing of Samuel Van Hoogstraten. University of Chicago Press, 1995.

Cohen, Richard I. Jewish Icons: Art and Society in Modern Europe. California UP, 1998.

Davis, Joseph M. Yom-Tov Lipmann Heller: Portrait of a Seventeenth-Century Rabbi. Littman Library of Civilization, 2004.

Demus, Klaus. Friderike. Katalog der Gemäldegalerie: Holländische Meister des 15., 16., und 17. Jahrhunderts. Kunsthistorisches Museum, 1972.

Ekkart, Rudi. Spinoza in Beeld: Het onbekende gezicht/Spinoza in Portrait: The Unknown Face. Amsterdam Vereniging het Spinozahuis, 1999.

Engerth, Eduard van. Gemälde Beschreibendes Verzeirchness, vol. 2. 1884.

Gerson, Horst. Ausbreitung und Nachwirkung der holländischen Malerei des 17. Jahrhunderts. De erven F. Bohn n. v, 1942.

Haberman, A.M. “Piyutav ve-shirav shel R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller.” Le-Kovod Yom Tov, edited by Judah Leib Maimon. Mosad HaRav Kook, 1956, pp. 125-145.

Heller, Yom Tov Lipmann. A Chronicle of Hardship and Hope. Translated by Avraham Yaakov Finkel, C.I.S. Publishers, 1991.

Hermens, Erma, et al. “Samuel van Hoogstraten’s Illusionistic Paintings for Emperor Ferdinand III – Two Case Studies.” Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Sabine Pénot. Hannibal, 2025, pp. 232-51.

Herskovics, Mayer. Two Guardians of the Faith: The History and Distinguished Lineage of Rabbi Yom Tov Lipman Heller and Rabbi Areyeh Leib Heller. Graphit Press, 2000.

Hoogstraten, Samuel Van. Introduction to the Academy of Painting; or, The Visible World. Edited by Celeste Brusati and Translation by Jaap Jacobs. Getty Research Institute, 2021.

Illes, Angelina. “List of Works.” Rembrandt Hoogstraten: Colour and Illusion, edited by Sabine Pénot. Hannibal, 2025, 258.

Knotter, Mirjam, and Gary Schwartz, editors. Rembrandt Seen Through Jewish Eyes: The Artist’s Meaning to Jews from His Time to Ours. Amsterdam UP, 2024.

Lipschitz Chaim Uri, and Neil Rosenstein, The Feast and the Fast: The Dramatic Personal Story of Yom Tov Lipman Heller. Moriah, 1984.

Mechel, Christian van. Verzeichniß der Gemälde der Kaiserlich Königlichen Bilder-Gallerie in Wien, Vienna, 1783.

Oron, Michal. Rabbi, Mystic, or Imposter. Translated by Edward Levin. Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2020.

Poch-Kalous, Margarethe. “Das Legat Wolfgang van Wurzbach-Tannenberg an die Gemäldegalerie der Akademie der bildenden Künste in Wien,” in Jahrbuch der kunsthistorischen Sammlungen in Wien vol. 55, 1959.

Rathgerber, Georg. Annalen der Niederländischen Malerei und Kupferstecherkunst: Van Rubens Abreise nach Italien bis auf Rembrandt’s Tod. Gotha, 1839.

Rigler, Hieronumus. “Beschreibung und Beurtheilung verschiedener Gemälde der S.S. Bildergalerie in Belvedere van Hieronymus Rigler aus dessen 1783 herausgegebenen, ausser Wien wenig bekannten und bereits geendigten mächentlichen Anzeigen van Künstlern und Kunstsachen,” in Miscellaneen artistischen Innhalts, 21, 1784, pp. 158-177.

Schwartz, Gary. The Rembrandt Book. Abrams, 2006.

Stern, Yechiel Michel. Gedoli Ha-Doros. Minchas Yisrael, 1996.

Van Sloten, Leonore and David de Witt. “Challenged by Rembrandt,” in Samuel van Hoogstraten, The Illusionist. Edited by Nathalie Maciesza and Epco Runia. WBOOKS, 2025.

Wreschner, J. Megilat Eivah le-Ba’al Ha-TY”T.  [], Jerusalem, 1999.

Wreschner, J. Ha-Tosefos Yom Tov u-Megilaso. [], Beni Brak, 2024.

Appendix:

Hoogstraten’s painting was copied and reinterpreted multiple times, with variations in style and even gender. (See Brusati 361, which discusses two copies in royal collections.)

A few more examples:

A more compact version with a whiter and shaped bear is attributed to a Dutch painter of Hoogstraten’s school and possibly one of the versions mentioned by Brusati.

Described as 18th Century Flemish School, without identification of a specific artist, sold for CHF 800.

Two versions: a man that is a crude likeness of Old Man in a Window and a woman wearing a linen cap sold for $2,000.

An alternative version of a woman was painted by Josef Hauzinger, (1726-1787), currently at the Pushkin Museum in Moscow. A later version of this rendering appeared at auction in 2022.

Old Woman in a Window

Another example of a woman at the window is a 1936 Picasso painting.




Sale: Sefer on the Manna

Sale: Sefer on the Manna

By Eliezer Brodt

This week, we read Parshas Beshalach, and one of its key sections focuses on the Manna. As is well known, we live in a generation where there’s an explosion of information, and it’s simply impossible to know or read it all. Countless seforim have been written on virtually every topic, and the subject of the Manna is no exception.

In an upcoming podcast (to be released this week) from my Musings of a Book Collector Series, IY”H, I will delve deeper into the subject of the Manna and some of the recent literature about it.

One recent work I’d like to highlight is a remarkable sefer by Rabbi Abish Dachs, titled Otzar HaParshah: Parshas HaMan (Soft Cover, 435 pages), first published in 2024. This comprehensive, encyclopedic exploration covers every aspect of the Manna in great detail.

The sefer is currently available for purchase exclusively through me, while supplies last, as it has yet to be sold anywhere else. For more information or to order a copy, please contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.

Below is the Table of Contents, which provides a glimpse of the vast range of topics addressed in the book.




New Books from Kodesh Press

New Books from Kodesh Press

By Eliezer Brodt

The Seforim Blog is proud to announce the publication of our frequent contributor Mitchell First’s newest book From Eden to Exodus: A Journey into Hebrew Words in Bereshit and Shemot. It comprises short essays on the parshas in Bereshit and Shemot, mostly related to words.

Here is the table of contents:

 

Available for purchase from Kodesh Press here

I would also like to point out two other special recent new books from Kodesh Press:

  1. Rabbi Gil Student’s Articles of Faith: Traditional Jewish Belief in the Internet Era.

Here is the table of contents:

Available for purchase from Kodesh Press here

2. Dr. Moshe Sokolow’s Pursuing Peshat:

Here is the table of contents:

Available for purchase from Kodesh Press here




Half Faith, Half Heresy: Between S.Y. Agnon and Gershom Scholem

Half Faith, Half Heresy: Between S.Y. Agnon and Gershom Scholem

Jeffrey Saks

The bonds of friendship between S.Y. Agnon and Gershom Scholom are well documented in their writings and in the copious scholarship on the celebrated Nobel laureate and the revered professor of Jewish mysticism. In this context, the interview that Dan Miron conducted with Scholem about Agnon (broadcast on Israeli television in February 1981, a year before Scholem’s death) is noteworthy. The recording (part 1 not preserved; part 2 and 3 available) and the transcript of the interview (in Hebrew or translation) are available online.

Agnon and Scholem met during the First World War, in the reading room of the Jewish Community Library in Berlin. Last summer, we marked the centennial of the burning of Agnon’s house in Bad Homburg, an event that brought the writer’s fruitful stay in Germany to an end. On the night of June 4-5, 1924, Agnon’s fellow tenant set fire to his apartment in the shared building in an act of arson and insurance fraud, thus proving the Sages’ adage, “Woe to the wicked, woe to his neighbor” (M. Negaim, 12:6). The Agnon family lost almost all of their possessions in this fire. In addition to the manuscripts of two almost-finished books, “four thousand Hebrew books, most of which I inherited from my ancestors and some of which I bought with money I scrimped from my daily bread,” went up in flames, as Agnon later recounted in his speech at the Nobel Prize ceremony in 1966. Among these 4,000 books was at least one that Agnon had received as a gift from Scholem: the young scholar’s first publication, Das Buch Bahir, a product of Scholem’s doctoral dissertation. It was an annotated German translation of a Hebrew manuscript from 1298 of that ancient Kabbalistic text. The book was published by Druglin in Leipzig in 1923, and subtitled Ein Schriftdenkmal aus der Frühzeit der Kabbala auf Grund der kritischen Neuausgabe, which means: “A written monument from the early days of Kabbalah based on a new critical edition.” It appeared in a series called Quellen und Forschungen zur Geschichte der Jüdischen Mystik (Sources and Researches on the History of Jewish Mysticism). On the cover, decorated with a woodcut image of a Kabbalist next to a diagram of the Ten Sefirot, is the title “Qabbala.” The backstory of the publication of this dissertation—published at the height of the German inflationary period on a rather esoteric subject—is told by Scholem in From Berlin to Jerusalem: Memories of My Youth (Schocken Books, 1980), 142-143.

Gerhard (Gershom) Scholem, Das Buch Bahir (Leipzig, 1923).

In the same year that he published his edition of the Bahir, Scholem left Germany for the Land of Israel, arriving on Yom Kippur 1923. A little over a year later, Agnon also left Germany and returned to Jerusalem on Friday, erev Shabbat Parashat Noah 1925. Upon renewing their relationship, Scholem gave Agnon another copy of his book in place of the original, which had been consumed by the flames in Bad Homburg. As an inscription Scholem wrote:

Scholem inscription to Agnon on Das Buch Bahir (Agnon House Library, #2473).

A gift to my friend S.Y. Agnon
May this enter the treasury of his books
Instead of Replacing the first one that was burned
From me, his faithful loving [friend]
Gershom Scholem

Like many new arrivals he was self-conscious of his Hebrew, making occasional errors in his speech (less so in writing). The inscription shows that Scholem had written and crossed out the word bimkom, replacing it with the more poetic tahat. Is there a hint in this edit (on a note to one he considered master of the Hebrew language) to this self-consciousness on the part of the new immigrant to the Hebrew Republic? Upon his arrival in Jerusalem, Scholem deliberated between two job offers: teaching mathematics in a high school or working in the National Library. It was clear that librarianship was a better fit for his personality and interests, but he himself admitted that he was afraid that in school “who could say whether my pupils would not laugh at my Berlin-accented Hebrew?” (From Berlin to Jerusalem, 163).

The Agnon House library in Jerusalem preserves dozens of books, booklets, and offprints by Scholem, many of which bear dedications from the author to Agnon. Agnon, for his part, paid tribute to Scholem and he too inscribed books in exchange (see, for example, an enigmatic dedication from 1952 to his book Ad Henah, published by David Assaf on the Oneg Shabbat website).

One of the most interesting dedications is written on an offprint of Schalom’s well-known article “Mitzvah Ha-ba’ah be-Aveirah,” which was first printed in Knesset: Divrei Sofrim in Memory of H.N. Bialik, vol. 2, edited by Fischel Lachower (Bialik Institute, 1937), 347-392.

The article appears in English as “Redemption Through Sin,” translated by Hillel Halkin, in The Messianic Idea in Judaism and Other Essays on Jewish Spirituality (Schocken Books, 1971), 78-141 (the acknowledgment on p. 365 misstates the publication date as 1937 rather than the correct December 1936).

This is one of Scholem’s most important studies that broke new ground in understanding Sabbateanism, and it shaped all subsequent research on the subject. Later, the article was republished at the beginning of his collection Mehkarim u-Mekorot le-Toldot ha-Shabtaut (Bialik Institute, 1974), and just last year in a new edition edited by Yonatan Meir, supplemented with an introduction, a comparison of the article’s manuscripts and published versions, notes, and appendices (Blima Books, 2024).

In this broad-ranging article, Scholem sets Sabbateanism as a touchstone through which the continuity of Israel’s history should be reassessed. In his opinion, that false messianic movement led to a disconnect between Halakha and Rabbinic Judaism, on one side, and Kabbalah and Jewish mysticism on the other. The vacuum created in the space in between allowed the rise of modern movements such as the Jewish Enlightenment, secularism, and Zionism. One of Scholem’s well-known assertions in this article is that Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz was a believer in Shabbtai Zvi, as his contemporary Rabbi Yaakov Emden had claimed (see the Y. Meir edition, p. 52 and especially in n. 15). This claim provoked the ire of scholars from the rabbinical world, which may explain the Hebrew rhyme that Scholem wrote on the offprint he gifted to Agnon:

Scholem inscription to Agnon on “Mitzvah Ha-ba’ah be-Aveira” (Agnon House Library).

Half-faith and half-heresy
Almost completely undisguised
To S.Y. Agnon, with friendships’ blessing
From me, Gershom Scholem

In the 1981 interview with Dan Miron, Scholem mentioned the fact that Agnon stood by him when he was attacked by religious and Haredi scholars who were upset by what he wrote in “Mitzvah Ha-ba’ah be-Aveirah” and in subsequent articles. Miron asked about this and the extent of Agnon’s interest in academic research in Jewish studies in general. Scholem replied:

He was interested, he wanted to hear details, understand my grounds for saying what I did. The details were what interested him, the research. He stood up for me when rabbis came and said to him: He’s such an aberration, that Scholem—a perfect ignoramus where the Torah is concerned, Talmud he knows nothing of—and he says the most outrageous things about Sabbetaians, and so on and so forth. Because so long as I wrote about the Zohar, nobody cared a bit, you see, but when I happened to mention in one line—after being convinced of the truth of it—that Rabbi Jonathan Eybeschutz had been a Sabbetaian—Heaven help me! Agnon’s friends from Poalei Agudat Yisrael—that was a large part of Agnon’s theatrics, his friendship with the Poalei Agudat Yisrael people—well, their rabbis called on him and they said whatever it was, and Agnon told them: “You don’t understand what it’s all about, you don’t understand what Scholem is doing.” So when I came to see him, he told me: “Rabbi So-and-So just left here ten minutes ago, and he called you a…” And he told me what his answer to the rabbi had been too. In a word, Agnon could have regard for a scholar when he considered there was some point to his work. And in all, it was a matter of individuals—respecting some, and some not—because research as such didn’t frighten him, because what did he care whether the Zohar was written at the time of the Tannaim so and so many centuries later. Agnon would have been the first to understand a thing like that. But the world of research in general—that, I think, did not exist for Agnon.

“Gershom Scholem on Agnon: Interview by Dan Miron—Part Two,” Ariel 53 (1983), 62-63.

It is unclear who Agnon’s Haredi “friends from Poelei Agudat Yisrael” were. It is possible that at the time of the interview, 45 years after the publication of “Mitzvah Ha-ba’ah be-Aveirah,” Scholem confused them with members of Mizrachi and the Religious Zionist Community, since among his staunch critics were Yitzhak Werfel (later Yitzhak Raphael, who also went under the penname A. Hashiloni) and Rabbi Reuven Margolies (1889-1971), both of whom were identified with Religious Zionism.

After Scholem deepened and substantiated his assertion regarding R. Eybeschutz’s Sabbatean beliefs (in a critical review of a psychoanalytic biography of R. Emden written in English by Mortimer Cohen), Margolies published a harsh response against Scholem. Margolies, who authored dozens of Torah books, was then the chief librarian of the Maimonides Library in Tel Aviv (now part of Beit Ariella) and was a distinguished Torah scholar. The current librarian, R. Avishai Elbom, published a column “Rabbi Reuven Margolies vs. Professor Gershom Scholem” (Am HaSefer Blog, 2021) reviewing the controversy that spilled over into adjacent topics in Zohar research.

Rabbi Reuven Margolies (1967)

Scholem, for his part, authored a twenty-page pamphlet published by Schocken in 1941 and titled Leket Margaliot (whose English subtitle would be: Assessing the New Defense of Rabbi Yonatan Eybeschutz). It is reprinted in his Mehkarei Shabtaut, edited by Yehuda Liebes (Am Oved, 1991), 686-706, with a bibliographical appendix reviewing the substance and stages of the debate. The pamphlet was a sharply worded response to Margolies’ criticisms.

A copy of the pamphlet with an inscription from Scholem to Agnon survives in the Agnon House collection:

Scholem inscription to Agnon on Leket Margaliot (Agnon House Library, #2839).

To S.Y. Agnon, my friend and comrade in the war against the ignoramuses (amei ha’aretz).
With blessings, Gershom Scholem

Agnon appreciated Scholem’s dual personality: an open faith and an almost undisguised heresy. As far as we know, he had little or no relationship with R. Reuven Margolies, who was also a native of Galicia, despite their common affinities. The years of Agnon’s and Margolies’ lives overlapped almost entirely. Margolies, a Lviv native studied in Agnon’s hometown of Buchach, receiving semikha from Rabbi Meir Arik (1855-1925), the town’s dayyan and posek, who appears a number of times in Agnon’s ‘Ir u-Meloah (A City in Its Fullness), a collection of his tales of Buchach. The Agnon House library has thirteen of Margolies’ books in its collection, but unlike the inscriptions that memorialize the warm friendship between Agnon and Scholem, there is not a single dedication to Agnon in Margolies’ books.

Rabbi Jeffrey Saks, Director of ATID and its WebYeshiva.org program, is Director of Research at Agnon House in Jerusalem and editor of the journal Tradition. Thanks to Profs. David Assaf and Yonatan Meir for their assistance.




‘And Moses Hid His Face’: Isaac Abarbanel and Maimonides on the Nature of Prophecy

‘And Moses Hid His Face’: Isaac Abarbanel and Maimonides on the Nature of Prophecy
Eric Lawee

Eric Lawee is a full professor in the Department of Bible at Bar-Ilan University, where he teaches the history of Jewish biblical scholarship. His *Rashi’s Commentary on the Torah: Canonization and Resistance in the Reception of a Jewish Classic* (2019), published by OUP, won the 2019 Jewish Book Award in the category of Scholarship of the Jewish Book Council (Judges’ Remarks below) and was finalist for a Jordan Schnitzer Book Award of the Association for Jewish Studies in 2021. He holds the Rabbi Asher Weiser Chair for Medieval Biblical Commentary Research and directs Bar-Ilan’s Institute for Jewish Bible Interpretation.

Throughout his life, the great commentator on the Torah of the “generation of the expulsion,” Isaac Abarbanel, engaged in a searching, fruitful, and at times highly conflicted dialogue with Moses ben Maimon (Maimonides), the medieval predecessor whom he most admired. Some elements of the Maimonidean legacy Abarbanel greatly esteemed but others he strongly rejected. One teaching of Maimonides on a fundamental issue that Abarbanel considered dangerously wrongheaded lay in the sphere of prophetology. Maimonides understood prophecy as a natural occurrence. On this view, anyone who fulfilled the necessary conditions for prophecy would prophesy. Concomitant with this approach was Maimonides’ notion that a prophet had to engage in “preparations,” moral and especially intellectual, to attain prophecy, which Maimonides viewed as the highest form of human perfection.[1]

In discussing the nature of prophecy, Maimonides outlines three positions. The first is the belief held by the vulgar (pagan as well as some simpler adherents of the Torah) that God can transform whomsoever God chooses into a prophet. On this view, prophecy is a miraculous phenomenon and an expression of the sovereign will of God. Since the prophet is chosen by God’s will without precondition, there is no need for “preparations” to become a prophet. By contrast, Maimonides claims that there is consensus between the philosophers and the Torah that prophecy is a natural phenomenon. Those who, over the course of their lifetimes, attained the requisite moral perfection and, above all, intellectual perfection, would necessarily achieve prophecy, as it was not contingent in any way on the volitional intervention of God. From this understanding, it followed that prophecy demands arduous preparation.[2]

In responding to this presentation of the matter in his commentary on The Guide of the Perplexed, Isaac Abarbanel departed from the role he assigned to himself exclusively as an expositor of Maimonides. Unable to hold back, he sharply criticized Maimonides’ positions on the subject:

I say that the first principle upon which the Rabbi built his “line of confusion and a plummet of emptiness” (cf. Isa. 34:11)—that is, that prophecy is a natural perfection that comes to one prepared for it […]—is false.” Prophecy is a miraculous occurrence, contends Abarbanel, “that comes directly from God.”[3]

Put otherwise, Abarbanel’s view aligns with that of “the multitude of ignorant individuals among those who believe in prophecy,” whom Maimonides dismissed with derision. Since, according to Abarbanel, prophecy is a supernatural occurrence, it does not require preparation on the part of its recipient, though it does require moral rectitude on the part of the prophet.[4]

While, however, vehemently rejecting Maimonides’ understanding of prophecy in his commentary on The Guide of the Perplexed, Abarbanel strikes a different note in his commentary on Exodus in the course of explaining a midrashic debate concerning Moses’ behavior at the burning bush: “And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God” (Exod 3:6). Abarbanel quotes a disagreement between R. Joshua ben Korḥah and R. Hoshaya:

One [R. Joshua ben Korhah] said: Moses did not act properly when he hid his face, for had he not hidden his face, the Holy One, blessed be He, would have revealed to him what is above and what is below, what was and what is to come. Later, Moses requested to see, as it is stated: “Show me, I pray, Your glory” (Exod 33:18). The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “When I wished [to show you], you did not wish [to see]; now that you wish [to see], I do not wish [to show you],” as it is stated: “For no man shall see Me and live” (Exod. 33:20). And R. Hoshaya said: Moses acted properly when he hid his face. The Holy One, blessed be He, said to him: “I came to show you My face, and you honored Me by hiding your face. By your life, as a reward for this, you shall sit on the mountain for forty days and forty nights and enjoy the radiance of the Divine Presence,” as it is stated: “And Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone” (Exod. 34:29).[5]

At this point, in a pattern widely attested in his biblical commentaries, Abarbanel diverges from his task of engaging in running exposition of the Torah to offer a detailed interpretation of the midrash that he cites, stating: “It is fitting that we understand in what these sages disagreed and what the intention of each of them was.”

Beginning with Joshua ben Korḥah, Abarbanel explains the somewhat elusive dispute in terms of the debate over the nature of prophecy that so sharply divided him from Maimonides:

It seems that the dispute between these two perfect ones was about whether prophecy requires some sort of prior natural educational preparation or does not, it being from the divine will alone, [these two views being] in accordance with those opinions mentioned by the master and guide in chapter thirty-two of part two [of the Guide]. R. Joshua ben Korhah would then be saying that training is not a necessary precondition for [achieving[ prophecy since it is by the will of God that the prophet prophesies.[6]

Abarbanel attributes the opposing view to R. Hoshaya:

However, R. Hoshaya praised Moses for what he did, for he held the view that prophecy requires prior preparation in the prophet […] as the master and guide [Maimonides] wrote. Therefore, Moses, being at the beginning of his prophetic journey, hid his face because he was not yet prepared for the great perfection he would later attain.[7]

Bearing in mind the implacable opposition that Abarbanel expresses in his commentary on the Guide to the claim that prophecy is a natural occurrence requiring “preparations” (“line of confusion and a plummet of emptiness”), it is nothing short of astonishing that Abarbanel utters no criticism of this view when explicating the midrashic controversy over Moses’ conduct at the burning bush.[8] Indeed, by ascribing what he considers Maimonides’ wholly deviant view to one of the “perfect” sages, Abarbanel gives the naturalistic understanding of prophecy that he finds so repellent a grounding in classical Jewish tradition. The result of such forays into interpretation of rabbinic sayings is twofold: a midrash whose meaning is unclear is made to speak to profound issues of theology and, as noted, by engaging in such interpretations, Abarbanel will at times give a home in the Jewish tradition to a philosophically informed position of Rambam that he otherwise strongly contests.[9]

Notes:

This essay is based on an article that appeared in Daf Shvui (Bar-Ilan University), no. 1602: Parashat Shemot (18 January 2025): 1-2 (Hebrew).

[1] Many have analyzed Maimonides’ teaching on prophecy. For a comprehensive discussion, see Howard Kreisel, Prophecy: The History of an Idea in Medieval Jewish Philosophy (Dordrecht, 2001), 148–315.
[2] Guide of the Perplexed, 2:32 (in the Hebrew translation of Michael Schwarz [Tel Aviv, 2003], vol. I, pp. 373–376). Maimonides does claim a second-order distinction between the philosophic teaching and that of the Torah, stating that according to the latter even one who has completed all the necessary preparations for prophecy might yet not attain prophecy due to divine intervention that prevents that person from prophesying. Most classical commentators on the Guide—Joseph Ibn Kaspi, Moses Narboni, Isaac ben Moses Halevi (Profeyt Duran / “Efodi”), and Shem Tov ben Joseph—argue that Maimonides’ esoteric opinion on the matter aligns with the philosophers. In contrast, Abarbanel claims that Maimonides’ view is the one he casts as “the opinion of our Torah.” See David Ben Zazon, Nevukhim hem: masa‘ be-be’uro shel don Yiṣḥaq ’Abravanel le-‘moreh ha-nevukhim’ (Jerusalem, 2015), 215–217; Kreisel, Prophecy, 227–229.
[3] Moreh nevukhim le-ha-rav Moshe ben Maimon… be-ha‘ataqat ha-rav Shemu’el ibn Tibbon ‘im ’arba‘ah perushim (1872; photo offset Jerusalem, 1961), part II, chapter 32, 69r.
[4] See Alvin J. Reines, Maimonides and Abrabanel on Prophecy (Cincinnati, 1970), lxxiv.
[5] Isaac Abarbanel, Perush ‘al ha-torah, 3 vols. (Jerusalem, 1964), Shemot, 28. See Shemot Rabbah 3:1.
[6] Perush ‘al ha-torah, Shemot, 28. On Abarbanel’s tendency to interpret midrashim in his biblical commentaries, see Eric Lawee, Isaac Abarbanel’s Stance Toward Tradition: Defense, Dissent, and Dialogue (Albany, 2001), 119–122.
[7] Perush ‘al ha-torah, Shemot, 29.
[8] This even-handedness may partially reflect Abarbanel’s dilution of Maimonides’ teaching: he ascribes to R. Hoshaya a weak version of the insistence that prophecy has preconditions that plays down the need for “preparationsof a specifically philosophic sort.
[9] For another example in which Abarbanel, in effect, projects a medieval controversy involving him and Maimonides onto a midrashic screen in a way that finds a home in classical tradition for a view of Maimonides that he rejects, see his interpretation of the maxims in the second chapter of tractate Avot, which he presents as a running dispute between sages over the crucial question of the path that leads a person to perfection. In particular, Abarbanel asserts that the issue at bar is whether Judaism’s approach to this question is enhanced by incorporating elements of philosophical ethics. See Perush ’Abarbanel ‘al mesekhta de-’avot (= Naalat -’avot), ed. Aron Golan (Ashkelon, 2012), 62–107.




A World War II Liberator’s Letter to his Hometown Rabbi

A World War II Liberator’s Letter to his Hometown Rabbi

By Rabbi Akiva Males

I recently realized that this year, January 26th will correspond to the 26th of Teves. That date marks the tenth Yahrtzeit of a remarkable man — who lived through some extraordinary experiences exactly eighty years ago. I had the honor of knowing Mr. Charles Press (1920 – 2015) for the last eight years of his life. However, others in Harrisburg, PA (where I served as a pulpit Rabbi from 2007 – 2016) enjoyed his friendship for over nine decades. Over the course of those many years, Charlie (as he was lovingly known) was a very active member of his synagogue (Kesher Israel Congregation) and the Jewish community that had nurtured him. With his devoted wife Eunyce (1924 – 2023) at his side, Charlie was also among the most dedicated volunteers that his Shul ever knew.

Charlie was a member of the heroic cohort which journalist Tom Brokaw reverently labeled as “The Greatest Generation”. On several occasions, I had the opportunity to hear him speak about some of his World War II experiences. As the 80th anniversary of those events approaches, I believe some of what Charlie told me needs to be shared with a broader audience.

Measuring over six feet, Charlie was a very tall man — yet one of the gentlest people I ever met. As much as I try, it is hard for me to imagine him as a strapping young man in his early twenties, struggling to stay warm under his olive drab steel helmet, and spending sleepless nights in frigid fox holes, while slugging it out with the Nazis. However, that is exactly what the early months of 1945 were like for Charlie Press.

After the US entered World War II in December of 1941, Charlie saw many of his childhood friends leave Harrisburg to join the fight in both the European and Pacific theaters of war. As an employee of the Pennsylvania Railroad, the powers-that-be saw Charlie’s role as essential to the US war effort. As much-needed personnel and war supplies were constantly being shipped through Pennsylvania from other states, he received a draft deferment. In fact, his superiors pleaded with Charlie to remain at his railroad position in the Keystone State. Nonetheless, as a proud Jewish-American, Charlie yearned to play a more direct role in the fight against the Nazis. Unable to continue observing from the sidelines, he quit his job, enlisted in the US Army, and left the safety of Pennsylvania behind.

Charlie trained to be part of a two-man bazooka team and was assigned to the 90th Infantry Division, 357th Battalion. The bazooka (a shoulder-fired rocket launcher) was a relatively new — and highly-appreciated — weapon which gave US soldiers the firepower they needed to attack the enemy’s tanks and fortifications. In addition to his rifle and personal gear, Charlie also carried the bazooka’s shells and loaded the weapon for his partner (another Jewish GI named Harvey Goldreyer from Queens, NY) who would carefully aim and fire it.

Charlie joined his unit as a replacement following the bloody ‘Battle of the Bulge’ (December 1944 – January 1945). In the months that followed, he and his bazooka partner’s skills were called upon numerous times.

On April 23, 1945, US forces liberated the Flossenburg Concentration Camp. Decades later, this is how Charlie described those events:

I was in the 90th Infantry Division which liberated the Flossenburg Concentration Camp, located about six kilometers (about 3.5 miles) from the German-Czech border as the war in Europe drew to a close in 1945. We were not prepared for what we saw: Still smoldering crematoria and open gravesites of human ashes, piles of corpses and shoes stacked about 20 feet high. When we arrived there were about 70 men and women who survived. They were so emaciated; they were just skin and bones. Speaking with them we found out that this was a political camp as well as an exterminating camp for Jews, Gypsies, and the disabled. The camp guards and personnel had fled before our unit arrived.

In addition, there were [US] soldiers that were captured by the Germans in the Battle of the Bulge and were forced to undergo long forced marches in the cold after being deprived of their overcoats and warm clothing. As the Americans began falling by the wayside the SS guards shot them. Many never made it to Flossenburg.

The German soldiers that were taken prisoners and returned to the camp as prisoners of war were very arrogant in defeat. They [repeated how they] were following orders and were proud that they were Germans.

For many years I never talked about what I saw. My granddaughter had to do a paper for school about who was her hero. That was the first time that I told her about what I experienced at Flossenburg.

Shockingly, in the years since WWII, the outlandish claims of Holocaust deniers have gained traction in some quarters. As a result, in his later years, Charlie became more open about what he had personally witnessed at Flossenburg. What follows is the text of a letter Charlie wrote in Flossenburg and sent to his beloved Rabbi back home — Rabbi David L. Silver (1907 – 2001).

Rabbi David L. Silver — the son of the famed Rabbi Eliezer Silver (1882 – 1968) — founded Harrisburg’s Jewish day school, and led Kesher Israel Congregation for more than 50 years. Charlie Press told me that he had one goal in publicizing this historic letter which contains his eye-witness account:

Read the letter. Now tell me there was no Holocaust!”

____________________________________

Germany, July 3, 1945

Dear Rabbi,

At present my outfit is located at the Flossenburg Concentration Camp guarding Hitler’s elite. This camp was at one time a living hell for many Jewish, Polish, Czech, and German political prisoners. The atrocities which I have witnessed are uncountable. At this moment I am in a guard tower which is equipped with weapons to hinder any attempted break by the criminals. At one time though, this same tower was occupied by some of the criminals who are now inside the fence.

To the left of this tower is a crematorium where daily human beings were burned. In the rear of this crematorium is a room with small vases in which the ashes of only the German dead were placed and sent to their families. The other prisoners’ ashes and bones were piled in a small ravine and covered up. The rain washed all the dirt off and uncovered the hideous evidence. In another section of the field is where human bodies were stacked crosswise on top of wood, and oil was poured over and lighted. When one row would be burned, the next row would be started, and so they kept the fires burning continuously.

The past few Sundays I have been visiting in a small town called Floso, where there are about fifteen Jewish displaced persons who at one time have been in this camp. We go there and have services and sing songs and tell stories. It’s really wonderful to make them happy although in their hearts there is unrest from what they have gone through. They are having a synagogue rebuilt and as soon as it is finished I am going to try and have services there for all of the soldiers and civilians around. It will be great to go to Shul once more.

I thank you again for the holiday greetings, and hope next Pesach I can be home with the family in a civilian suit, and enjoying a good Pesach-dig Seder.

Sincerely yours,

Charles Press

____________________________________________

Young Israel of Memphis’ Rabbi Akiva Males can be reached at rabbi@yiom.org

Mr. Charles Press and Pennsylvania Governor Ed Rendell at the Governor’s Civic Commemoration of the Holocaust in April 2009 (Photo taken by Rabbi Akiva Males)

WWII-era photo of Charlie Press in his US Army uniform — note the 90th Infantry Division insignia

A plaque honoring the 90th Infantry Division at Flossenburg

WWII-era US soldier aiming a bazooka

Kesher Israel Congregation’s 1953 dinner honoring Rabbi David L. Silver

Left to right: Rabbi David L. Silver; Samuel Brenner (President of Kesher Israel); Rabbi Eliezer Silver (father of Rabbi David L. Silver and former Rabbi of Kesher Israel); Rabbi Dr. Samuel Belkin (President of Yeshiva University)

Charlie Press in September of 2014 – just four months before his passing (Photo taken by Rabbi Akiva Males)