Response to Criticism, Part 3

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.

Let me continue with Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s review. [1] This post will complete my response to around a quarter of his review, so we still have a long way to go.

Grossman writes (p. 42)

According to Shapiro, “Maimonides would be surprised that . . . later generations of Jews . . . latched onto his earlier work;” and it “is certainly one of the great ironies of Jewish history that the Thirteen Principles became the standard by which orthodoxy was judged.” Finally, “the characteristic that gave them their afterlife . . . is precisely their outer form . . . Had Maimonides listed a different number of principles in the Mishneh Torah . . . these would have become the Principles of Judaism.” In other words, after postulating that Rambam innovated these obligatory beliefs, Shapiro concludes that it was the popular acceptance of these Principles that established halachic practice.

If you look at the quotations from my book that Grossman has cited, you can see ellipses. The problem here, and this would be unknown to the average reader who does not bother to see what I actually wrote, is that the complete sentences without the ellipses mean something very different than what Grossman wants the readers to think they say. Here is the complete first sentence that he cites (from p. 7 in my book): “Presumably, Maimonides would be surprised that in seeking to define the essentials of Judaism, later generations of Jews, both scholars and masses, had latched onto his earlier work rather than his more detailed formulation in the Mishneh Torah.” I think all readers will agree that the part of the sentence that Grossman quotes, with strategic ellipses, does not give the reader the true sense of the sentence. I can’t say whether this is a result of bad faith or careless writing.

Here is the complete second sentence that Grossman cites (from p. 15 in my book): “It is certainly one of the ironies of Jewish history that the Thirteen Principles became the standard by which orthodoxy was judged, for, as is well known, Maimonides himself was attacked for supposedly holding heretical views, at odds with his very own Principles.” Again, we see that by use of a strategic ellipsis, Grossman give the reader a false impression of what I wrote.

Here is the complete third selection that Grossman cites (from p. 14 in my book).

Returning to the Thirteen Principles, the characteristic that gave them their afterlife and caused them to become the formulation of the Jewish creed is precisely their outer form, that is, the fact that they were formulated as a catechism with all the Principles listed together. Had Maimonides listed a different number of Principles in the Mishneh Torah (e.g., twelve or fourteen), these would have become the principles of Judaism. But he did not, and thus the Thirteen Principles stuck.

In this case, the use of ellipses does not distort what I said.

Grossman states that I postulated that “Rambam innovated these obligatory beliefs.” We have already seen that this is complete nonsense. I never said that Maimonides invented the “obligatory beliefs,” as this would mean that before Maimonides there was no conception of traditional Jewish beliefs, which is a ridiculous notion.

In his final sentence, Grossman states that I concluded “that it was popular acceptance of these Principles that established halachic practice.” This is indeed my opinion, but I would also add that it obviously took time for the Principles to achieve widespread acceptance. Nothing I have said here is unusual or radical, and it is also opinion of many others who have written on the subject. Here, for example, is what R. Meir Orian writes in his book on the Rambam (published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook).[2]

ראינו כי בעצם ערר רבנו משה התנגדות בכל חיבור שכתב . . . גם קביעתם של שלשה עשר העיקרים של היהדות – שבמרוצת השנים נתקדשו בקדושת התורה והאומה – לא היתה לפי רוח גדולי הדור שבזמנו

There were other competing systems of dogma, but I state that none of them could compete with Maimonides’ formulation, both because of Maimonides’ supreme authority and also because popular piety prefers more dogmas to fewer. It is no accident that there are almost a hundred different poetic versions of the Principles, of which Yigdal is only the most famous. These are reflections of the popular attachment to the Principles, not to any rabbinic decision in favor of Maimonides. So if we conclude that the Principles establish halakhic practice, then yes, it was popular acceptance of these Principles that established the halakhic practice, much like popular acceptance and rejection of halakhic rulings throughout history has established halakhic practice.

Had the religious masses accepted an alternative formulation of Jewish dogma, then this would have become the standard. The rabbis can give rulings, but from talmudic times to the present it is the masses of religious Jews that determine if a halakhic ruling is accepted or not. Even with regard to the greatest poskim, you find that for some of their rulings the religious masses simply refused to accept them (perhaps because they found them too difficult and were already accustomed to do things in a different way, e.g., R. Moshe Feinstein and time clocks on Shabbat). I am not sure what Grossman’s problem is with the notion that popular acceptance can determine halakhic practice. Maybe he thinks that halakhah is only about the posek issuing a ruling. However, especially when speaking historically, we must also take into account that the religious masses (the “olam”) also have a crucial role to play in how halakhah develops.

This important notion is elaborated upon in the recent book by R. Ronen Neuwirth, The Narrow Halakhic Bridge, pp. 293ff. Here is one passage from R. Kook that R. Neuwirth quotes (from Eder he-Yekar, p. 39): “All of the mitzvot of the rabbis that we fulfill – their main foundation is the acceptance of ‘the entire nation’ which is the honor of the nation.”

Grossman, pp. 42-43, quotes the following sentence from my book (p. 17, mistakenly omitting a few words in his citation):

It seems that there is even halakhic significance to the Principles, as seen in the fact that R. Israel Meir Hakohen [Mishnah Berurah 126:2] records that one who denies the divinity of the Torah, reward and punishment, the future redemption, and the resurrection cannot serve as a prayer leader. Had Maimonides not included these Principles in his list, it is unlikely that denial of the last two, which are not necessarily of prime importance to a religious life, would disqualify one in this way.

Grossman writes:

Contrary to Shapiro’s hasty assumption, the Rambam is not the source for this Halacha. The source is the Talmud Yerushalmi, cited by the Tur [Orah Hayyim 126] as follows: “A prayer leader who skips two or three words does not have to go back to say them, except for one who does not mention ‘the Resurrection of the Dead,’ for perhaps he is a disbeliever [kofer] in the Resurrection of the Dead, and [the blessing] ‘Who rebuilds Jerusalem,’ for perhaps he does not believe in the Coming of the Mashiach.” Obviously, the ruling of the Mishnah Berurah is not an “invention” based on the Rambam.

Grossman’s translation is not exact as אין מחזירין אותו does not mean “does not have to go back”, and the translation also omits the words ומכניע זדים שמא מין הוא, but for our purposes this is not crucial.

The first thing to note is that I never said that the Mishnah Berurah’s source for his ruling is the Rambam’s Principles. What I said is that had the Rambam not included the Messianic era and Resurrection among his principles, denial of them would not have been enough to affect a Jew’s status (so that he couldn’t be a prayer leader, etc.). I will explain what I mean, as Grossman has once again completely misunderstood my point.

Let us take Resurrection, which is mentioned in the Mishnah as an obligatory belief. Nevertheless, the Rambam was suspected by both opponents and supporters as not really believing in it literally. In response to this suspicion, he wrote his famous Letter on Resurrection, which affirms the literalness of Resurrection and tells us that when he included it in his Principles he really meant it. Imagine if Maimonides, in his Letter on Resurrection, had not affirmed literal Resurrection, but instead defended the notion that it is to be understood metaphorically, as referring to the World to Come. Had that occurred, then the Rambam’s great authority would have ensured that belief in Resurrection would not be required.

My point is therefore simple: If the Rambam had declared that belief in Resurrection is not required, I do not believe that the Mishnah Berurah would have regarded this approach as heretical and thus invalidated a hazzan who held such a view, despite what other rishonim might have held. Similarly, had the Rambam not included the Messianic Era as a Principles of Faith, I do not believe that it would have been regarded as an obligatory belief, denial of which is heresy. It might have been a “recommended” belief, but not a generally accepted “obligatory” belief. In my opinion, this shows the great significance of the Rambam from both a theological and a halakhic perspective.

If you look at Jewish history, you will find that while many have asserted that certain beliefs are obligatory (e.g., gilgul, existence of demons, Divine Providence encompassing the animal kingdom, Daas Torah, R. Shimon Ben Yohai authored the Zohar, the Sages were infallible in matters of science), these beliefs have never become generally accepted to the extent that those who do not share them are regarded by the wider Orthodox world as outside the fold. Only Maimonides’s Principles were able to do such a thing. This explains what I mean when I say that had Maimonides not regarded the Messianic Era or Resurrection as obligatory beliefs, that “it is unlikely that denial” of them would have been enough to place the stamp of heresy on such a person, and thus to disqualify him from being a hazzan.

On p. 44 of his article, Grossman returns to the matter that I (and others) raised, that the Thirteen Principles are not mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. I also suggested that in his later works Maimonides was not attached to his earlier formulation of thirteen principles, as he presents a more detailed formulation of required beliefs in the Mishneh Torah.

In response to my point that one would have expected the Thirteen Principles to be listed in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah, Grossman writes (p. 44)

Here, too, Shapiro indicates that he is unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah. The entire work is an expansion of the 613 Mitzvos: The entire work is introduced by Rambam’s Sefer haMitzvos which lists all 613 Mitzvos, and each of the sections (Halachos) has a listing of the Mitzvos included therein. Consequently, there is no place to highlight the Thirteen Principles in Hilchos Yesodey haTorah, since there are explicit Mitzvos for only three of them—emunah, yichud and avodah zarah, which he in fact does list in the introduction to this section. He could not have listed all the rest since they are not Mitzvos.

I reject this paragraph. There is a good deal in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah that has nothing to do with “explicit Mitzvos.” For that matter, there is a good deal in the Mishneh Torah as a whole that is not related to “explicit Mitzvos.” In addition to what I mentioned in my last post, one can also add the last two chapters of Hilkhot Melakhim, which are about the messianic era and have nothing to do with mitzvot. The Rambam included these chapters because he felt that this material is important, and he did not limit himself in the Mishneh Torah to only matters that derive from ‘explicit Mitzvos”. Therefore, there is nothing about the “structure of the Mishneh Torah” that would have prevented him from listing the Thirteen Principles as a unit in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah or elsewhere. In fact, most of the Principles are already listed in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah, but just not together as a unit (which was my point), which shows that he had no problem listing them even though “they are not Mitzvos.”[3]

As for my wondering why the Principles are not listed together as a unit, which Grossman sees as an illustration of how I am unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah, let me begin by repeating what I wrote in my last post: R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, on the very first page of his commentary Mishnat Yaakov to Sefer ha-Madda, also wonders about the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. (Had I known this when I wrote my book, I certainly would have cited it.)[4]

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמב“ם בספרו ה”יד החזקה” את הענין הזה של י“ג עיקרי האמונה, וצ”ע

R. Avraham Menahem Hochman writes:[5]

. . .מאחר וכל כך חמורה הכפירה, וגדולה החובה לדעת את י”ג העיקרים, כיצד זה השמיטם מספרו ה”יד החזקה”, ולא כתבם כפי שסדרם בפירוש המשנה

והנה אחר שהתבאר שהאמונה בי”ג העיקרים היא בסיס לתורה נשוב לשאלה הרביעית (בסוף פרק ה’) אשר לכאורה היא פליאה עצומה מדוע השמיט הרמב”ם ביד החזקה את החובה הגדולה להאמין בי”ג עיקרים, באופן חיובי, ולא סדרם כי”ג יסודי האמונה שחובה להאמין בהם

R. Hochman goes on to explain that most of the Principles are indeed mentioned in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torahin a positive sense (even if not as a unit of Thirteen Principles). He also notes the following important point, that when principles of faith are mentioned in the Talmud, they are never listed in a positive sense, that one must believe X. Rather, they are listed in a negative sense, that one who denies X has no share in the World to Come. Why Maimonides, in his Commentary on the Mishnah, chose to formulate the Principles in a positive sense and require active belief as a necessity for all Jews—something the Talmud never explicitly required—is an interesting point which we will come back to. Regarding some of the Principles the difference is clear. For example, according to the Talmud, denial of Resurrection is heresy, but one who has never heard of the Resurrection and thus does not deny it, or affirm it, is a Jew in good standing. For Maimonides, however, the doctrine of Resurrection must be positively affirmed. In a future post we can come back to which Principles even the Talmud implicitly requires positive affirmation of (obviously number 1, belief in God, but there could be others as well).

Even when it comes to other basic ideas of Maimonides, which are not included as part of the Thirteen Principles, we find that scholars wondered why Maimonides did not include them in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah. For example, R. Joseph Ibn Caspi writes:[6]

.הנה תמהתי על כבודו בספרי המכונה ספר הסוד, כי [אם] כן עשה הוא דעת תורתנו ויסוד הדת למה לא מנה זה בהלכות יסוד [!] התורה בתחלת מנותו היסודות

With regard to the Thirteen Principles themselves, in R. Jacob Yitzhaki’s popular Sephardic Mahzor Oholei Yaakov: Rosh ha-Shanah, p. 59b, he states:

.ובאמת גם הרמב”ם ז”ל לא זכר מהעיקרים הללו לא בספרו הגדול משנה תורה ולא בס’ המורה שחבר אחריו בזקנותו. ואם היה עודנו מחזיק בם היה לו להזכירם בס’ המדע והמורה, כי שם מקומם, ורק נזכרו בפי’ המשנה שחבר בבחרותו כידוע

R. Yitzhaki agrees with my point that it is significant that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are not mentioned in the Mishneh Torah(or in the Guide of the Perplexed; he is obviously aware that the individual principles appear in various places in the Mishneh Torah). His words, ואם היה עודנו מחזיק בם היה לו להזכירם, show that he, too, is not certain that the notion of Thirteen Principles was still something the Rambam held to when he wrote the Mishneh Torahand Guide of the Perplexed. Grossman can reject R. Yitzhaki’s point the same way he rejects what I wrote, but readers can see that what we have written is not something completely ignorant, as Grossman would have people believe.

On pp. 44-45, in response to my suggestion that in his later years the Rambam did not feel bound to the Thirteen Principles as the ultimate summation of Judaism, Grossman refers to a passage in the Rambam’s Letter on Resurrection. Here the Rambam mentions that in his commentary to Sanhedrin he expounded on fundamentals of Judaism, and he mentions that he did likewise in the Introduction to the Mishnah and the Mishneh Torah. I myself refer to this source in Limits, p. 6, as one of the few times the Rambam mentions the Principles subsequent to his the Commentary on the Mishnah. This does not change the fact that the Rambam does not refer to the Principles as a unit in the Mishneh Torah or the Guide, and the understanding of Judaism found in these latter works is not always the same as what we see in the Principles. I would assume that it is in the Rambam’s later, and indeed greater, works that we should look in order to identify his final statements on matters of Jewish belief.

The real problem is that again, Grossman simply does not understand what I am saying. He concludes this section of his criticisms by stating that, “Clearly the Rambam has not retracted his opinion that there are Principles, or roots – lacking belief in which, one is missing the fundamentals of Judaism.” Of course, I never said that in his later years the Rambam did not believe that there are Principles of Judaism. Even if we never had his Thirteen Principles, you can look at the Mishneh Torah and see that there are beliefs that if you deny them, you are missing the fundamentals of Judaism. My point about the Rambam not being tied to the Thirteen Principles has nothing to do with this. It thus makes no sense for Grossman, p. 46, to write that in the Guide the Rambam refers to the fundamentals of faith, and then to cite chapters from this work that require belief in God’s incorporeality, as if this has anything to do with what we are talking about. Let us not forget that it was the Rambam who chose thirteen principles.[7] He did not find this in the Torah or in the Talmud. When you examine the Mishneh Torah you see that he could just as easily have chosen fourteen principles, or even more (and later writers indeed added additional principles).

There is no need to belabor this any longer, but let me call attention to an error Grossman makes on pp. 46-47. He states that R. Joseph Albo refers to the Guide of the Perplexed “in explicating Rambam’s Principles.” He then cites Albo’s Sefer ha-Ikarim 1:3: “And why did he not include the dogma of creation, which everyone professing a divine law is obliged to believe, as Maimonides himself explains in the twenty-fifth chapter of the second part of the Guide of the Perplexed?” This is not an example of Albo using the Guide to explicate the Rambam’s Principles. In this chapter of Sefer ha-Ikarim, Albo asks why the Rambam does not include creation as one of the Thirteen Principles. He cites the Guide not to explicate the Principles but to show that the Rambam regarded creation as an essential doctrine, and therefore it should have appeared in the Principles. (Albo was unaware that later in life the Rambam added to the Fourth Principle the belief in creation ex nihilo.)

One point that Grossman is adamant about is that it is improper to suggest that the Rambam changed his mind when it comes to the Principles. That is because, Grossman states, the Rambam revised his Commentary on the Mishnah throughout his life, so if he did not change what he wrote in the Principles, it is “an indisputable indication” (p. 46) that it remained his opinion. The reader of Grossman’s essay will not realize that it is not a major point of my book to argue that the Rambam changed his mind about his formulations in the Principles. What I do suggest is that the Thirteen Principles as a unit is not his final statement of dogma, because he does not mention it in the Mishneh Torah or the Guide, and in those works you find other doctrines that are regarded as principles of faith which are not included in the Thirteen Principles. Furthermore, as we shall see in future posts, the Rambam has different emphases and even outright contradictions to the Thirteen Principles in his later works, so we are left with assuming that either he changed his mind or that his formulations in the Thirteen Principles were intended for a certain audience, but did not represent his true view, which would only later be revealed in the Guide – and perhaps even in the Mishneh Torah – to the spiritual and intellectual elites. I will deal with this in greater detail in a future installment of my response to Grossman. For now I just want to note that the approach that he regards as ignorant as well as apparently blasphemous, that the Rambam changed his views about certain matters in the Principles, is not unknown even among rabbinic figures.

In Limits, p. 148, I noted that R. Meir Don Plotzki claimed that while in the Twelfth Principle the Rambam requires that the Messiah be descended from Solomon, he does not mention this in the Mishneh Torah. For R. Plotzki, this shows that the Rambam retracted his earlier view (even though he never corrected what he wrote about this principle in the Commentary on the Mishnah).[8] This again illustrates the problem with so many of Grossman’s criticisms of me. He points to things I wrote that he thinks are absurd and ignorant, but what happens when I show that great rabbinic figures have said the same thing? Obviously, Grossman would not criticize them in the same way. Is this an example of the old “they could say it but you can’t”?

R. Eliyahu Meir Feivelson notes that in the Sefer ha-Mitzvot, Positive Commandment, no. 4, the Rambam includes as part of “fear of God,” fear of punishment. However, when he describes this mitzvah in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah2:1-2, there is no mention of fear of punishment, only what is called יראת הרוממות. R. Feivelson writes[9]:

ויש להעיר עוד, שאולי יותר נכון לומר בדעת הרמב”ם, שהוא חזר בו מדבריו בספר המצוות, ולכן בספר משנה תורה נקט את יראת הרוממות. ורגליים לדבר, שהרי בהקדמתו לפרק חלק מנה הרמב”ם את האמונה בשכר ועונש, וכאחד מי”ג עיקרי אמונה. ואילו בהלכות תשובה (פ”ג הל, ו’-ח’) מנה את כל עיקרי האמונה פעם נוספת (ותחת זה מנה שם את האמונה בתורה שבכתב ושבע”פ לשני עיקרים), ולא הזכיר שם את האמונה בשכר ועונש, ושמא זה מוכיח על שינוי דעתו בענין זה

R. Feivelson mentions that in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuvah3:6-8, when the Rambam lists the different types of heretical beliefs, there is nothing about Reward and Punishment. He therefore suggests that the Rambam changed his mind and no longer regarded this as a Principle.

If Grossman would read R. Feivelson like he reads me, he would protest that it is outrageous to suggest that the Rambam stopped believing in, or requiring belief in, Reward and Punishment. But this would be a mistake. R. Feivelson knows full well that Reward and Punishment is an important Jewish belief. He also knows that Hilkhot Teshuvah, chapter 8, is all about Reward and Punishment. All he is suggesting is that the Rambam ceased to regard this as one of the Principles of Judaism, denial of which is heresy, and which everyone must also positively affirm to be regarded as part of the Jewish community. Or perhaps he only means to say that the Rambam removed Reward and Punishment from the Principles so people would not focus on this as a motivation to observe of the Torah. If R. Feivelson is correct, then Reward and Punishment is no different than other true beliefs which the Rambam didn’t see fit to include in the Thirteen Principles.[10]

R. Feivelson’s basic idea, that the Rambam changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment as one of the Principles, was actually earlier suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm in his classic commentary Mirkevet ha-Mishneh, Hilkhot Teshuvah3:8:

(. . .וזה מכוון נגד י”ג עיקרים שבפירוש המשנה אלא שבחדא יש חזרה, ושם מונה שכר ועונש, וכאן בחיבורו השמיטו (לפי דמצוה לעבוד שלא ע”מ לקבל פרס מאהבה

Let me turn to one other place where it is possible that the Rambam changed his mind in a matter of dogma. There are a number of discussions of the Rambam’s view of the Messiah, and it is typically stated that he believes that the Messiah will be a prophet. Since R. Alter Hilewitz was recently mentioned in the Seforim Blog here, let me cite him.[11]

שהמלך המשיח בעצמו יהיה נביא, ולא סתם נביא, אלא נביא יותר גדול מכל הנביאים פרט למשה

That the Messiah will be a prophet is often stated as part of the dogma of belief in the Messiah, yet there is nothing in the Twelfth Principle about the Messiah being a prophet. Why then do so many assume that this is part of the Rambam’s Principle? I think the answer is because in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuvah 9:2, the Rambam states that the Messiah will be a great prophet, close to the level of Moses. He also mentions this in his Letter to Yemen.[12]

As mentioned, there is nothing in the Twelfth Principle about the Messiah being a prophet. Does this mean that the Rambam changed his mind? I don’t think we can say for sure. Yet it is noteworthy that in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melakhim, ch. 11, when the Rambam speaks about the Messiah, he also does not mention anything about the Messiah being a prophet. In fact, in Hilkhot Melakhim 11:3 he tells us that R. Akiva thought that Bar Kokhba was the Messiah. Since Bar Kokhba was not a prophet, this is a proof that the Messiah does not need to be a prophet. Another relevant point is that in Hilkhot Melakhim 12:3 the Rambam speaks of the Messiah as having ruah ha-kodesh, which is a lower level than prophecy. Thus, it appears clear that according to Hilkhot Melakhim the Messiah will not be a prophet, or at least does not need to be a prophet.[13]

How to explain the fact that in Hilkhot Teshuvah the Rambam says that the Messiah will be a great prophet, while in Hilkhot Melakhim he does not mention this at all, and he refers to Bar Kokhba, thus showing that the Messiah does not need to be a prophet? R. Joseph Kafih states that the Rambam changed his mind on this matter. When writing his Letter to Yemen and Hilkhot Teshuvah the Rambam thought that the Messiah needed to be a prophet, however, his later position is reflected in Hilkhot Melakhim.[14] R. Kafih makes this claim even though there is no evidence that the Rambam ever altered what he wrote in Hilkhot Teshuvah. My point in mentioning this is not to claim that R. Kafih is correct in his assumption, only to show, in opposition to Grossman, that great commentators have indeed been prepared to state that the Rambam changed his mind, even if we have no evidence that he later corrected his earlier works.[15]

Regarding prophecy, R. Shlomo Aviner cites R. Kook that Adam was a greater prophet than Moses. I found this formulation noteworthy, as it contradicts Maimonides’ principle that Moses was the greatest prophet. In response to my question, R. Aviner replied to me that Adam is not to be included in regular history, and was thus not the among the prophets Maimonides was referring to.[16]

אדם הראשון הוא מחוץ לחשבון ההסטורי הרגיל ולפניו, ושורש כל בני האדם

R. Aviner cited as his source Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 1, p. 280, which refers toזיהרא עילאה דאדה”ר. In fact, I found a more apt source in Shemonah Kevatzim3:66, where R. Kook puts the matter very clearly:

זיהרא עילאה דאדם הראשון היא כוללת מדה עליונה זו העולה עד למעלה מהאספקלריא המאירה של נבואת משה רבנו

The concept of Adam’s זיהרא עילאה is found throughout kabbalistic literature (which also states that Enoch would later receive this זיהרא עליאה). I had never understood it as also including prophecy, as opposed to simply greatness, but after investigating the matter I do not think that R. Kook is saying anything out of the ordinary by excluding Adam from the Rambam’s Principle. I think that this is also the sense you get from R. Hayyim of Volozhin when he discusses Adam.[17] In Nefesh ha-Hayyim 1:20, he also stresses the greatness of the Messiah, and he cites a rabbinic text that the Messiah will surpass Abraham, Moses, and Adam.[18] R. Hayyim adds that he will only surpass Adam after the Sin, but not before.

Regarding Adam before the Sin, R. Solomon Elyashiv writes:[19]

השגת אדה”ר קודם החטא שהשיג אז את כל האצילות הנה היה במדרגת האצילות של אז שהיה גבוה ונעלה מאד . . . כי מציאת אדה”ר שקודם הטא היה למעלה לגמרי מכל חק סוג אנושי אשר מאחר החטא ולהלאה

R. Isaiah Horowitz discusses Adam from a kabbalistic perspective on a few occasions. In Shenei Luhot ha-Berit[20], sectionToldot Adam: Beit Yisrael (p. 9a in the first printing, Amsterdam 1749; no. 104 in the newer printings), he writes:

והנה אדם עולה במספר קטן ט’ כי אדם לא בא בסוד יחידה מצד כתר המעלה העליונה עשירית, וזהו “אדם אחד מאלף לא מצאתי” א”ל [אל תקרי] אֶלֶף בסגול אלא אַלף שהיה חסר

This is exactly how the text appears in the first printing including the vowels. R. Horowitz cites Ecclesiastes 7:28, however the verse actually states: אדם אחד מאלף מצאתי. Only later in the verse does it say: ואשה מכל אלה לא מצאתי. It seems clear that this is simply a mistake and that R. Horowitz was citing from memory.[21] We find the same verse misquoted later in the Shelah, where the derash seems to be clearly based on the mistake:[22]

חותמו של הקב”ה אמת רומז על אה”יה אשר אהיה כי אהיה פעמי’ אה”יה עולה כמנין אמת. אדם הוא מעשר אמת כי ד”ם מעשר מ”ת ומהאלף לא שייך מעשר וזה רמז אדם אחד מאלף לא מצאתי כלומר אחד מאלף לא נמצא מעשר

This is all quite strange as using Otzar ha-Chochma I found two other places in the Shelah where the verse is cited correctly.[23]

Regarding Moses’ prophetic level, in Limits, p. 89, I cited authorities who understand Midrash Tanhuma’s statement that the Messiah will be “more exalted than Moses” to mean that he would be a greater prophet than Moses. Subsequent to the book’s publication, I found that the Lubavitcher Rebbe also leaves this as a possibility,[24] for in his Sefer Sihot: 5751, vol. 2, p. 789, he writes:

ובתנחומא (ס”פ תולדות) משמע שהוא נביא גדול ממשה – ראה לקו”ש ח”ו עמ’ 254 – ועצ”ע

Here is one additional point which is I think of interest. Although Judah David Eisenstein was not a religious authority, he was an Orthodox Jew and his works became quite popular in Orthodox homes.[25] It is noteworthy, therefore, that in his Otzar Dinim u-Minhagim, p. 325, he writes as follows, completely rejecting the Rambam’s system of dogma:

ואיך יעלה על הדעת לומר כי היהודי שאינו מאמין בלבו באיזה מן הי”ג עקרים חוץ מאמונת ה’ לבדו כי הוא יוצא מכלל ישראל. בפרט כי דת ישראל לא נוסדה על מחשבות ורעיונות רק על המעשה, מצות עשה ומצות לא תעשה, והיהודי המקיים כל המצוות הוא בודאי יהודי כשר אע”פ שאינו מאמין בלבו ברוב העקרים שמנה הרמב”ם

He then suggests that the Rambam retracted his understanding of ikkarim.

ונראה כי גם הרמב”ם חזר מעקריו אלה שכתב בערבית לפירוש המשניות, כי בספרו היד החזקה שכתב בעברית להלכה למשה [למעשה] הורה בגר שבא להתגייר, מודיעין אותו עקרי הדת שהוא ייחוד השם ואיסור ע”ז, ומאריכין בדבר הזה, ומודיעין אותו מקצת מצות קלות ומקצת מצות חמורות ואין מאריכין בדבר זה

Notice how Eisenstein requires belief in God, without which one is not part of Israel. But this takes us back to the question of what actually is belief in God. For the Rambam, someone who believes in a corporeal God is not really believing in God at all, and is thus a heretic, while Rabad disagrees. In Limits and in subsequent writings I have cited a number of authorities who agree with Rabad, which shows that the Rambam’s’ approach in this matter was not universally accepted. While it is true that Rabad and the others I cite believe that God is incorporeal, they do not accept that one who errs in this matter is to be regarded as a heretic, which is a major break with the Rambam as it means that denial of one of the Principles does not equal heresy.[26]

Here is another source that we can add to the list. The Hasidic master R. Meir Horowitz of Zhikov states that one who has a defect in his belief in God – which I assume can also include believing in God’s corporeality – but is part of a Hasidic community and accepts a rebbe, is not to be regarded as wicked. This is because by being devoted to the rebbe he will eventually be brought to a proper belief in God. What he is saying, if I am interpreting him correctly, is that you can have members of the Orthodox community whose beliefs might be incorrect, even heretical, but they should not be regarded as wicked because their very belonging to the community and acceptance of its rabbinic leadership is itself significant. I don’t know how many would agree with R. Meir, but what he says is quite fascinating.[27]

וכמו כן יש בנמצא בני אדם אשר יש להם חסרון באמונת הבורא כביכול, ועם כל זה יש להם אמונת צדיקים, ומקבלים עול הצדיק על עצמם . . . וגם אנשים כאלו אינם בכלל רשעים, יען כי על ידי אמונת צדיקים בודאי יבוא אחר כך לאמונת הבורא, כי על ידי התקשרות לצדיק במשך הזמן יזכה גם לאמונה גמורה. וכמו שפירשו בספרים הלואי אותי עזבו ואת תורתי שמרו היינו לשמור מה שהתורה מרבה בתיבת את ד’ א-להיך לרבות תלמידי חכמים

Finally, let me call attention to another unconventional view of R. Michael Abraham. R. Abraham states that since it impossible to force people to believe, the Thirteen Principles of Faith of the Rambam must be understood as only a suggestion which people are free to reject, not an obligation, as only behavior can be legislated, but not thought.[28]

באופן מהותי אי אפשר לצוות על אנשים להאמין דווקא בדבר מסוים. אתה יכול לצוות על אנשים שיתנהגו באופן מסוים, אבל אי אפשר להכתיב להם מה לחשוב, וגם איך תדע שהם חושבים אחרת מכפי שצוו. אז גם 13 עיקרי האמונה של הרמב”ם הם לא הלכה, אלא הצעה של הרמב”ם, ובהחלט אפשר גם לחשוב אחרת.

* * * * * * * *

[1] Regarding Grossman’s review, it is apt to cite the words of R. Yissachar Tamar, Alei Tamar, Shabbat, p. 6 (referred to by R. Neriah Guttel, Or Yekarot [Elkana, 2016], p. 290):

ומכאן אזהרה חמורה למבקרי ספרים שיעיינו הדק היטב עד שחורצים משפטם על ערך הספר וחשיבותו

In a future post I hope to also discuss another critique of my book, that of Seth Kadish. While I have argued that the Thirteen Principles reflect a conservative approach sometimes at odds with Maimonides’ other works, Kadish, in his very interesting and significant article, offers an alternative, I would even say revisionist, perspective. Here is some of what appears in the summary at the beginning of the article.

Such an attitude assumes that Maimonides’ famous list of the “thirteen foundations of the Torah” reflects a conservative stance (regardless of his wider agenda). This paper argues, to the contrary, that his dogma is best read in context as a natural reflection of radical formulations found in his pre-Guide rabbinic writings. It further argues that the great Iberian critics of Maimonidean dogma understood it in exactly this way and rejected it as such, offering meaningful alternatives in its place. They designed their alternative systems to reflect their views about the nature and substance of the Torah, not just to address the semantics of dogma.

Seth (Avi) Kadish, “Jewish Dogma after Maimonides: Semantics or Substance,” Hebrew Union College Annual 85 (2015), pp. 195-263.
[2] Ha-Moreh le-Dorot (Jerusalem, 1956), p. 92 (emphasis added).
[3] See R. Isaac Abarbanel, Rosh Amanah, ch. 19; Menachem Kellner, Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought (Oxford, 1986) p. 228 n. 60; R. Dovid Yitzhaki’s essay in R. Jacob Emden, Luah Eresh (Toronto, 2001), p. 466. R. Yehezkel Sarne, Beit Yehezkel: Hiddushim u-Veurim be-Inyanim Shonim (Jerusalem, 1995), p. 242, has an interesting perspective:

.יסודי התורה אינו ענין לעיקרי התורה או עיקרי האמונה שהרי לא כלל הרמב”ם כאן כל העיקרים שאם אינו מאמין בהם נעשה כופר על ידן. אלא יסודי התורה היינו שהתורה עומדת עליהם ומי שאין לו היסודות גם תורה אין לו

Earlier in this note, I refer to R. Emden’s work לוח ארש. This is sometimes written as Luah Eres, yet this is a mistake. The second word is Eresh, as in the word ארשת (see Ps. 21:3) which has the connotation of “speech”. This is explained by R. Dovid Yitzhaki in his edition of Luah Eresh (referred to above), p. 3 n. 1 (second pagination).

In Shaharit of Yom Kippur, we recite the piyyut אדר יקר, the first line of which reads: אחוה בְּאֶרֶשׁ מלולי.

R. Aaron Samuel Katz’s commentary on Midrash Rabbah has the title Kore me-Rosh(Berdichev, 1811). It is divided into two sections, one of which is called ארש רבה. This is obviously a play on ארץ רבה (Ps. 110:6), and ארש also contains letters from the names אהרן שמואל.

Sephardic melitzah often uses the word ארש, such as in the expression ותשקוט הארש (sometimes written as האר’ש). Its meaning is that all speech or utterance should cease, that is, there is no need for any more discussion or argument about the issue. Another melitzah is באתי אל הארש (a play on Deut. 26:3), which means “this is what I have to say”.

There is also a melitzah ארש קדם (a play on Gen. 25:6) which means “words of introduction”.

Here is the beginning of R. David Pipano’s Avnei ha-Efod, vol. 1 (Sofia, 1913).

On pp. 24a and 171a R. Pipano uses another melitzah that I love, and which you can occasionally find in other Sephardic works: ובחפשון יצאתי (a play on Deut. 16:3). This means that he searched in rabbinic literature.

The title of R. Emden’s book, לוח ארש, is a play on לוח ארז that appears in Song of Songs 8:9. In the Bible, ארז is vocalized אׇרֶז as it comes at the end of a sentence. Does that mean that seforim with the title לוח ארז should also be vocalized Arez, and לוח ארש should be Aresh? The answer is no, because when we cite the title we are not quoting a biblical verse. Similarly, with R. Isser Zalman Meltzer’s book אבן האזל, just because in I Sam. 20:19 we read האבן הַאׇזֶל does not mean that when citing the name of the book, where it is not the end of a sentence, that we should write Even ha-Azel. Rather, the title is Even ha-Ezel. (The information in this paragraph has been confirmed with R. Dovid Yitzchaki.)
[4] Regarding R. Rosenthal, I think it is noteworthy that he held that at least in certain cases, such as with women who are unable to get married, it is permissible for single women to be artificially inseminated, and he ruled this way in practice. See R. Yehudah Berakhah, Birkat Yehudah, vol. 7, p. 267. R. Aharon Lichtenstein also held this position. See R. Shmuel David, “Teshuvot Ba’al Peh shel ha-Rav Aharon Lichtenstein,” Tzohar 40 (2016), p. 32:

?שאלה: רווקה מבוגרת, כבת 41, מבקשת היתר לקבל תרומת זרע מגוי כדי לזכות להיות אם, האם ניתן להתיר לה

תשובה: אנחנו איננו ששים למצב שילד יגדל בלא אב, אך אי אפשר לראות את דמעתה ולחשות, ולכן כיוון שאין כאן איסור, הרי שמותר לה לקבל תרומת זרע מגוי, ורופא יזריק אותו, כמו שעושים לזוג נשוי

I believe that this is now the accepted position in the Modern Orthodox world, for the simple reason that strictly speaking there is no halakhic prohibition. In the haredi world, rabbis often forbid things for communal reasons, even though there is no real halakhic prohibition. But these types of rulings do not carry as much weight in the Modern Orthodox community.

It is also of note that before the creation of the State of Israel, R. Rosenthal went on the Temple Mount, as there was a tradition where it is permissible to go. However, he agreed that in contemporary times this should not be allowed. See the interview with his student, R. Shlomo Amar, here.
[5] Ha-Emunah ve-Yud Gimmel Ikareha (Jerusalem, 2005), pp. 84, 103-104.
[6]Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113. See also ibid., p. 101:

למה לא מנה זה הדעת בהלכות יסודי התורה עם הייחוס בא-ל

[7] See R. Shimshon Dovid Pincus, Nefesh Shimsohn: Be-Inyanei Emunah (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 99:

הרמב”ם היה הראשון שמנה את י”ג העיקרים . . . מה הרמב”ם חיפש כשהוא יסד את אותם “עיקרים”, ובכלל מה הם “עיקרים”? . . . הרמב”ם פסק את י”ג העיקרים להלכה, וכנראה שקבלנו את שיטתו

[8] Hemdat Yisrael (Petrokov, 1927), vol. 1, p. 14a (final numbering; in Limits I referred to this as p. 14b, as it is found on the second column). Interestingly, on the very next page, p. 14b, R. Plotzki writes:

בשיעור שלמדתי בישיבת ר’ יצחק אלחנן ז”ל בפה ניויארק יום ב’ ט”ז תמוז באספת כל גדולי מורי הישיבה והרבה מגדולי הרבנים בנויארק

This shiur at Yeshivat R. Yitzchak Elchonon took place in 1926, during a fundraising visit to the United States.
[9] Va-Yavinu be-Mikra: Va-Yikra, p. 175 (emphasis added).
[10] Regarding R. Feivelson, see the recent news report here about how two young men from the extremist Peleg group took out a knife and threatened R. Feivelson that he stop giving shiurim or else suffer the consequences. In a future post, I hope to discuss why there has been strong opposition in some quarters to R. Feivelson’s approach.
[11] “Yemot ha-Mashiah be-Mishnato shel ha-Rambam,” Sinai 41 (1957), p. 17.
[12] Iggerot ha-Rambam, ed. Shilat, vol. 1, p. 106 (Arabic), pp. 154-155 (Hebrew). This is in line with the Rambam’s Seventh Principle which states that other prophets cannot reach Moses’ level of prophecy. In Limits, ch. 6, I discuss those who disagreed with this principle. I subsequently found what seems to be another example of disagreement with the Rambam in this matter. In speaking of the prophets in the Messianic era, R. David Kimhi, commentary to Joel 3:1, writes:

וכן יהיו בהם [הנביאים] מעלות זה למעלה מזה כמו שהיו בנביאים שעברו עד שאולי יקים בהם כמשה רבינו ע“ה

In his final words he offers the possibility that future prophets will be as great as Moses.
[13] R. Hananel Sari writes as follows with reference to Maimonides’ description of the Messiah in Hilkhot Melakhim:

כאן המלך המשיח נמדד רק במידת הצלחתו להקים מחדש את הממלכה לפי חוקי התורה. כלומר, מבחן התוצאה בעניין זה בלבד, ואינו צריך להיות נביא, ובוודאי שאינו צריך להיות נביא גדול!

“Tekufatenu vi-Yemot ha-Mashiah be-Mishnat ha-Rav Kafih,” Masorah le-Yosef 7 (2012), p. 97.
[14] Commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah, p. 650 n. 21. See also R. Kafih’s note to his edition of Iggerot ha-Rambam, p. 50 n. 26.
[15] Regarding Maimonides not correcting the Mishneh Torah to bring all of the halakhot in line, see my Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, pp. 6, 68 n. 275.
[16] See my Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan, no. 120. Copies of this work are available here.
[17] Nefesh ha-Hayyim 2:17, 4:28.
[18] The rabbinic text R. Hayyim refers to is a Midrash, but he was apparently citing from memory, as the Midrash does not mention anything about Adam but instead mentions Abraham, Moses, and the angels. This Midrash is usually quoted from Midrash Tanhuma, ed. Buber, vol. 1, p. 70a, but this edition was not yet published in R. Hayyim’s lifetime, so he would have known the Midrash from Yalkut Shimoni, Zechariah, no. 571.
[19] Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah: Sefer ha-Deah (Petrokov, 1912), vol. 1, p. 85b. Following this passage, on the same page, R. Elyashiv says something noteworthy (and difficult to accept). He cites the following from Shemot Rabbah 41:6:

Another explanation of And He gave unto Moses (Ex. 31:18). R. Abbahu said: All the forty days that Moses was on high, he kept on forgetting the Torah he learned. He then said: “Lord of the Universe, I have spent forty days, yet I know nothing,” What did God do? At the end of the forty days, He gave him the Torah as a gift, for it says, And He gave unto Moses. Could then Moses have learned the whole Torah? Of the Torah it says: The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea (Job 9:9): could then Moses have learned it all in forty days? No, but it was the principles (kelalim) thereof which God taught Moses.

R. Elyashiv believes that the entire text just cited was stated by R. Abbahu, but it appears to me that the words beginning “Could then Moses have learned” were not said by R. Abbahu. Be that as it may, R. Elyashiv has a difficulty with the midrashic statement, which he attributes to R. Abbahu, that Moses was only taught the principles of the Torah, as this contradicts other aggadic statements that Moses was taught all the details as well. He therefore concludes that R. Abbahu did not really believe what he said, but his statement was only directed towards the heretics, whom he would sometimes dispute (see Avodah Zarah4a).

I find this quite difficult, since if his statement was directed towards the heretics, why does it appear in the Midrash without any such indication. This is quite apart from what many will regard as a more fundamental difficulty, namely, the assertion that a sage’s words in a classic rabbinic text are to be understood as a false statement designed to merely “shut up” the heretics. Here is what R. Elyashiv writes:

אך העיקר נראה לי כי ר’ אבהו לא אמר זה אלא כנגד המינין כי הוא היה רגיל להתווכח עם המינין. וכמ”ש בעבו”ז דף ד’ ע”א. וכדי שלא ליתן פתחון פה למינים להעיז נגד קבלת חז”ל אמר כמה דברים גם מה שהוא נגד דעתו, ע”ד שאמרו חולין כ”ז ב’ לאויבי דחיתי בקש. וע”ד ששינוי [!] הע”ב זקנים כמה דברים בתורה בהעתקתם לתלמי המלך כמ”ש במגילה ט’ ע”א . . . וכן הוא בענינינו כי מה שאמר ר’ אבהו בשמו”ר פ’ מ”א סי’ ו’ הנז’ שלא למדה משה רק כללים לא אמר זה אלא כנגד המינים וכדי לסכור את פיהם אבל הוא עצמו ודאי סובר ככל המאמרים הנז’ שלמד הקב”ה למשה כל דקדוקי תורה ודקדוקי סופרים

In Changing the Immutable, ch. 8, I discuss some who make the same claim as R. Elyashiv regarding other texts. Recently, I found that R. Judah Leib Landesberg also makes this point. In his Hikrei Lev (Satmar, 1905), vol. 1, p. 57, he discusses R. Judah’s statement in Sanhedrin 92b that Ezekiel’s vision of the Dry Bones coming to life was not something that happened in reality, but was only a parable (mashal). R. Landesberg cannot accept that R. Judah really meant this. He assumes that the point of his statement was polemical, and directed against the early Christians who spoke about the resurrection of Jesus and were strengthened in their false belief by the story of the resurrection of the Dry Bones.

מפני הוראת שעה ופריצת הדור החדש אשר על יסוד זה חפץ לבנות בנין שקר וכזב, מותר לומר שכל התחיה בימי יחזקאל היה “רק משל”, למען לא תתגבר ותתחזק האמונה הבדויה, שחנוך והתלוי קמו חיים ועלו השמים

On p. 66, he adopts the same approach regarding R. Hillel’s statement in Sanhedrin 99a: “There shall be no Messiah for Israel, because they have already enjoyed him in the days of Hezekiah.” As R. Landesberg sees it, R. Hillel did not believe what he said, but his statement was directed against those Jews who were being influenced by the followers of Jesus who claimed that the Messiah had arrived. R. Hillel was telling these people that Jesus could not be the Messiah, as there will be no Messiah since the prophecies were already fulfilled in the days of Hezekiah. According to R. Landesberg, R. Hillel’s false statement was justified as a “hora’at sha’ah”, an emergency measure to save Jewish souls from going astray. He also identifies R. Hillel with the Nasi Hillel II, and suggests that the Roman government required him to make the statement that there would be no Messiah.

ולא לבד העכו”ם גם רבים מהיהודים מתנצרים וטענותם והתנצלותם הי’ “כי משיח כבר בא” ע”כ היה הנשיא הילל מוכרח במעשה מטעם הממשלה, ומפני “הוראת שעה” לפרסם בישראל שלא יאמינו ברע ולא יבטחו בו ובשלוחיו, וחלילה להאמין כי הוא המשיח המקוה לישראל ע”כ גזר ואמר “אין משיח לישראל”! ונבואת ישעי’ כבר נתמלאה בימי חזקיה

[20] See R. Herschel Schachter, Divrei ha-Rav, p. 184, in the name of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, that the practice developed of calling this work the Shelah ha-Kadosh rather than its actual title, Shenei Luhot ha-Berit, because people thought that Shenei Luhot ha-Berit as a title was a bit “over the top”.
[21] See Eliezer Zweifel in Ha-Karmel, March 13, 1866, p. 249.
[22] P. 178b in the first printing. In more recent printings see section Masekhet Pesahim, no. 524.
[23] First printing, p. 348b, in more recent printings see section Bamidbar, no. 27; first printing, p. 409b, in more recent printings see section Torah she-Be’al Peh, no. 384.
[24] See the discussion of the Rebbe’s words by Aharon Meir Felder in Tamim be-Hukekha (Brooklyn, 2008), pp. 26ff.
[25] Regarding Eisenstein, see Robert L. Samuels, “The Life and Work of Judah David Eisenstein as Reflected Primarily in His Memoirs” (unpublished masters dissertation, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, 1960), available here.

R. Binyamin Lau, Mi-Maran ad Maran (Tel Aviv, 2005), pp. 137ff., discusses R. Ovadiah Yosef’s attitude towards Eisenstein’s Hebrew encyclopedia, Otzar Yisrael. He first notes that in a responsum about the permissibility of using the secular calendar, R. Ovadiah cites Otzar Yisraelas a source that the secular year is not to be traced to Jesus’ birth, since he was actually born before the beginning of the Common Era. See Yabia Omer, vol. 3, Yoreh Deah, no. 9. R. Lau notes that R. Ovadiah is not consistent in how he relates to this encyclopedia. In R. Ovadiah’s responsum dealing with the halakhic status of the Ethiopian Jews, he refers to R. Eliezer Waldenberg’s reliance on Otzar Yisrael to demonstrate that they are not descended from Jews, and harshly attacks R. Waldenberg for relying on this work “which contains some matters of heresy.” Yabia Omer, vol. 8, Even ha-Ezer, no. 11:3.

R. Lau is content to note the inconsistency without probing further if perhaps this can be explained as R. Ovadiah delegitimizingOtzar Yisraelbecause it stood in opposition to his halakhic conclusion that the Ethiopians are Jewish. It appears likely that the delegitimization was ad hoc polemical rather than substantive, and thus able to be used when R. Ovadiah felt warranted. For another negative comment about Otzar Yisrael, see Yalkut Yosef, Orah Hayyim 131, p. 415.

In 1993, R. Hayyim Kanievsky’s notes to Eisenstein’s Otzar Midrashim were published. I received a copy of the pamphlet from David Farkas, who informs me that it was included with the recent reprint of Otzar Midrashim, obviously in order to make the book more “kosher”. It is interesting to examine what R. Kanievsky states should be deleted from Otzar Midrashim, as it is not merely references to academic scholars but also phrases that most will see as quite innocuous. Even Eisenstein’s comment that some scholars regard Eldad ha-Dani as a charlatan is to be deleted (R. Kanievsky’s note to p. 19), perhaps because this would reflect poorly on the rabbis who were taken in by him. (Shimon Steinmetz suggests that the reason is actually the reverse, that including this information would reflect poorly on those who were skeptical of Eldad.)

R. Kanievsky also says to delete any references to non-Jewish influence on these so-called Midrashim. To give one example, Eisenstein, p. 251, writes as follows about the medieval Midrash known as Sefer ha-Yashar:

.כנראה נתחבר ספר הישר במאה התשיעית או העשירית בזמן הגאונים. המקורים שמהם שאב המחבר הם מדרשות חז”ל ספר יוסיפון, והגדות הערביים

R. Kanievsky says to delete the words והגדות הערביים. I don’t understand why R. Kanievsky feels this way. I could just as easily imagine a great Torah scholar going through Eisenstein’s book and showing the problems with many of these Midrashim, precisely because of the questionable material in them, which would explain why they were never “accepted”. Even with regard to Sefer Zerubavel (Otzar Midrashim, pp. 158ff.), which is a seventh-century apocalypse that has no religious authority in traditional Judaism and is full of strange passages, R. Kanievsky objects to Eisenstein’s historical comments. Again, I don’t see why R. Kanievsky sees this as a religious imperative when dealing with such a work as Sefer Zerubavel, and am frankly surprised that he did not recommend deleting this entire “Midrash,” as he did with other “Midrashim” included by Eisenstein that he did not regard as authentic (see his notes to pp. 371, 372, and see also his notes to pp. 35, 400, where he expresses doubt that these “Midrashim” are from the Sages). Regarding Sefer Zerubavel, see David Berger, Cultures in Collision and Conversation(Boston, 2011), pp. 268ff.

Also of interest is the following passage from Otzar Midrashim, p. 583, about Midrash Tanhuma. I have underlined the word that R. Kanievsky said to remove:

.אמנם הוא [ר’ תנחומא] לא מחבר המדרש הזה ולא מסדרו, רק הבאים אחריו קבצו רוב דרשותיו וספחו אליהם דרשות מבעלי אגדה זולתו, וקראוהו על שמו מפני שהיה דרשן מצוין בזמנו

I do not know why R. Kanievsky was bothered by Eisenstein declaring that R. Tanhuma was a great darshan. Is it because this might imply that other sages were not such great darshanim? But how is this any different than saying, for example, that R. Akiva was a great Torah scholar, a statement that no one would object to?

Finally, R. Kanievsky (notes to p. 214) appears to be defending the so-called letter of R. Yohanan Ben Zakai. This is an obvious forgery, and according to Moshe Hillel was written in Poland in the eighteenth century. See Hillel, Megilot Cochin (Jerusalem, 2018), pp. 259ff. See also pp. 190ff., where Hillel discusses other scholars’ views about the matter
[26] Regarding the Rambam and Rabad, there is a very strange passage in R. Isaac of Komarno, Shulhan ha-Tahor, 167:3. I shudder to think what a Lithuanian rosh yeshiva would say if you mentioned to him the explanation offered for Rabad’s words.

אבל המצוה שיהיה מלח על השולחן ובפרט מי שהוא משורש קין יזהר מאד, מרן האר”י, ובזה תבין דברי הרמב”ם [הל’ חמץ ומצה ח, לח] שפסק לאכול מצה בחרוסת, הוא הטעם כיון שיש לפניו דבר שהוא משובח מן המלח מחוייב לאכול פרוסת הבציעה בדבר שמשובח כיון שעומד לפניו הכרח שיטבול בו את הבציעה המצה כי חרוסת שלהם הי’ מפירות יקרים הרבה מוטעם ביותר וכתב עליו הראב”ד זה הבל ותמהו עליו למה לו לההביל את הדבר שהוא מוזכר אצל הגאונים הראשונים עיין שם, אבל באמת כוונת רבינו רוח הקודש שלו הי’ זה הבל מי ששורשו הבל א”צ למלח ודי בלפתן אבל מי שהוא משורש קין בהכרח שיטבל במלח ולא בחרוסת והוא ענין נפלא

R. Nahum Abraham writes that it is forbidden to print this explanation, as it is so bizarre. See Darkhei ha-Ma’amarim, p. 13 (first pagination).
[27] Imrei Noam (Brooklyn, 2003), vol. 1, p. 225 (to Ex. 4:8-9). See Mendel Piekarz, Ha-Hanhagah ha-Hasidit (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 37.
[28] See here.

The Fundraising Campaign to Print

the Letters of Rabbi Shmuel Ashkenazi (1922-2020)

By Eliezer Brodt

Over Shabbos one of the hidden giants of the seforim world, both within ultra-orthodox and academic circles, was niftar; a man known as Rabbi Shmuel Askenazi. He was 98 and lived in Batei Ungarin in Meah Shearim.

(seen here with Rav Yechiel Goldhaber)

R. Ashkenazi authored many books and hundreds of articles in dozens of journals – both academic and charedi. Besides for authoring so much, he assisted many people in both circles helping in many areas of the Jewish literature.

Just a few hours ago a beautiful hesped tribute for R. Ashkenazi was published by my close friend (and Seforim Blog co-editor) Menachem Butler at Tablet Magazine, available here.

I hope to write a proper article about him in the very near future as I was privileged to get to know him very well for many years. Indeed, for the past number of years I have joined together with a group of friends to raise the necessary funds to print his writings, and would like to share with you details about our project this week.

Brief Background

A few years ago a partial bibliography of his writings was printed in a work called Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira. The background to the publication of this volume is that R. Askenazi 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. Ashkenzi’s “weakness” for incredible levels of perfection.

More than a dozen years ago, several people began to try to prepare his writing for print, and an effort was painstakingly undertaken by Rabbi Yaakov Yisrael Stahl and colleagues. Three volumes have already printed, for example see here and more are ready to go, with several sample chapters appearing at the Seforim Blog several years ago (see here).

The topics that these works deal with are virtually everything on some level, sources on expressions, minhaghim, dininm, 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. In addition, there are R. Askenazi’s notes on tefilah, piyut, Chumash, Shas, Zohar, and from other seforim that he annotated on the side.

It is so painful to say that the current delay of publication is funding.

As we are still within the week of mourning of our teacher R. Shmuel Ashkenai, we seek assistance to help print his collection of letters. There are nearly one thousand letters from R. Ashkenazi to people all over the world, beginning from 1942 (!) and continuing onward including to all types of noted authors, scholars, and professors. The topics of these letters range from tracing expressions, sources for numerous statements in Chazal or piyut, minhaghim, the evolution of famous stories, bibliography and much much more.

It’s a work that anyone interested in the Jewish Book will find many things to enjoy. We cannot underestimate the significance of this collection of letters, which provide a window into his world of interlocutors and correspondents.

To quote just one of the many testimonies found in Menachem Butler’s article from Seforim Blog contributor Professor Shnayer Leiman, who writes:

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. Suffice to list among those who consulted him: Gershom Scholem (distinguished Jewish historian); S.Y. Agnon (Nobel Prize laureate); Judah Leib Maimon Fishman (Minister of Religions, Israel); and a stellar list of prominent Jewish historians, rabbinic scholars, and bibliographers, much too long to list here (e.g., Simha Assaf; Israel Ta-Shma; Meir Benayahu; A.M. Habermann; Avraham Yaari; and Naftali Ben Menahem).

The volumes are ready to be typeset and then ready to go to print right – 1,000 pages, printed in two volumes, and will be issued in a very limited edition. It will be available for purchase in several weeks. (The only lines missing from the book are those of the benefactors for the project.) We are looking for sponsors to assist in defraying the cost of publication, and we hope that you can help contribute. Tax deductions for sums over $250 are available, and every patron who pledges $250 or greater will receive a complimentary copy of the two-volume set with shipping. American tax deductions available for those who contribute for the sponsorship levels of $250, $500, $1,000, or $2,500.

Upon the publication of the volumes in several weeks, full details with ordering information will be made available at the Seforim Blog, and the books will possibly be available in select bookstores, while supplies last.

(We know that financial times are very difficult, and so even a little bit can assist this project move forward. For more information please email me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.)

Book sale

At the same time due to requests worth mention is that some of his earlier works are still available for purchase.

His first work titled *Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zeira* (844 pp.) there are still a very limited amount of copies left, the price is $52.

The second work (two volumes) is being greatly reduced for a short time only, for $32.

His third work *Assufah* is available for $13.

(For more information about anything related to this project or purchasing his works contact me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com).

JEWISH TREASURES FROM OXFORD LIBRARIES

By Paul Shaviv

Ed. Rebecca Abrams and Cesar Merchan-Hamann / Bodleian Library, University of Oxford, 2020 / ISBN 978 1 85124 502 4 / Available in the USA via Amazon $55

307pp, 140 full-colour plates

Oxford,[1] the ‘City of Dreaming Spires’, is one of the world’s greatest repositories of Hebraica and Judaica, both books and manuscripts.

This sumptuous volume was initiated at the encouragement and support of Martin J. Gross, a New Jersey philanthropist and Jewish community activist. It is a bargain at the price. The book is absolutely handsome – the quality of the printing is outstanding, and it is printed on 135gsm paper.

The core of ‘Jewish Treasures from Oxford Libraries’ describes seven collectors and their eponymous collections, which together constitute the Hebraica holding of the Bodleian library; plus a description of smaller, but important, holdings of some individual College libraries; and the Genizah fragments held in Oxford. There are additional essays describing the history of the Bodleian itself, and the role of successive Librarians in encouraging the acquisition of Hebrew (and other ‘Oriental’) manuscripts; of the great cataloguers (Neubauer and Cowley); and of other benefactors, including the amazing figure of John Selden.[2]

Each chapter is written by different scholars. Archbishop Laud (1573–1645), by Giles Mandelbrote; Edward Pococke (1604-1691) by Benjamin Williams; Robert Huntington (1637-1701) by Simon Mills and Cesar Merchan-Hamann; Benjamin Kennicott (1718-1783) by Theodor Dunkelgrun; Matteo Luigi Canonici (1727-1805) by Dorit Raines; Rabbi David Oppenheim (1664-1736) by Joshua Teplitzky; and Heimann Joseph Michael (1792-1846) by Saverio Campanini. Each describes the biography of the collector, the characteristics and most important items of their collection, and how and why they amassed them.

The first thing that readers will note is that only the last two are Jewish. Even in the case of David Oppenheim, his unique collection of approximately 4,500 printed books and just under 1,000 bound volumes of manuscripts languished in storage in Europe until Revd. Alexander Nicoll, the Regius Professor of Hebrew, engineered its purchase by the Library. Otherwise they are a parade of Anglican Divines and Christian Hebraists (except Canonici, who was a Jesuit), witness to the intense interest (and expertise) in Hebrew and Jewish Studies by non-Jewish scholars in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The stories of the collections are fascinating. Ambassadors, merchants and missionaries all have a part in purchasing (and pursuing) manuscripts. A special place seems to be occupied by the ‘Chaplains’ attached to the Embassies – one can surmise that they both had some expertise in Hebrew, even if rudimentary, and also perhaps time to devote to the ‘hunt’. We visit the great cities of the ‘Orient’ – Constantinople, Damascus, Aleppo, Cairo, and of Europe – Italy, Spain and Germany.

The objectives and interests of each collector were different. Some – Oppenheim is the obvious example – were happy to scoop up whatever was on the market. Kennicott was interested in Biblical material, resulting in his two-volume study of variations in extant biblical texts. Along the way, each of them acquired examples of the most magnificent decorated and illuminated works, covering the entire span of Judaica – texts, contracts, ketubot, from every place. The calligraphy itself is to be savoured and enjoyed. As mentioned, the 140 full-colour (and often full-page) plates do all of this justice.

Although overshadowed by Cambridge, Oxford too has significant Genizah holdings – described by Nadia Vidro. These were acquired in the nineteenth century and pre-dated Solomon Schechter’s bulk removal of the Genizah contents to Cambridge. They are apparently strong in Talmudic texts, and also include an autograph copy of Rambam’s Mishneh Torah – complete with alterations and editing notes. Adolph Neubauer sifted through the material; kept the largest fragments, often complete or semi-complete pages – and rejected the remainder, which were sold on to Elkan Adler. Neubauer could not foresee the techniques available later, and utilized in Cambridge, to read, identify and reap the benefits of the tiniest pieces.

It is very difficult to summarize such a wide-ranging work in a short review. I am left with several thoughts:

• In the case of the Bodleian, their holdings were purchased, not plundered, although the circumstances by which the objects came into the possession of previous owners is not necessarily known. The scholarship, and enthusiasms, of the Christian Hebraists, familiar to scholars, is of course little appreciated in today’s wider Jewish community. Were it not for them, many, many of these works would be lost. Were it not for the conscientious curation and preservation of these books and manuscripts by non-Jewish, mainly academic, libraries, they would almost certainly be lost, and even if they existed, would probably be far less accessible.

• The sheer aesthetic beauty of many of the manuscripts speaks of a different culture. Even if, as is surmised, many were illustrated by non-Jewish professional artists[3] – they were commissioned by Jewish patrons. Even the almost-certainly Jewish artists (of Ketubot and the like) seem to show a joyfulness absent from our contemporary production of texts; which I take as a reflection of a certain dour outlook and philosophy. The same comment could be made about the narrowness of contemporary religious publishing compared to the width of thought, concern and scholarship of our forebears.

• On a different perspective, as an (ex-pat) Anglo-Jew, and a former graduate student of Jewish Studies at Oxford (way back in the 1970’s!), I have to again sigh at the neglect of its own treasures by the Anglo-Jewish community[4]. Even the initiator of this project hails from New Jersey! Perhaps a ray of optimism may come from the fairly recent appointment of Prof. Judith Olszowy Schlanger as head of the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies (formerly housed at Yarnton Manor)? Until now, most of the OCHJS Presidents have been specialists in one or another aspect of the ancient world, or of other, wider areas of Jewish study. This is not to disparage any of these eminent scholars in any way whatsoever! But Professor Olszowy Schlanger has already published on Anglo-Norman and pre-Expulsion manuscripts; perhaps we will see fresh scholarship on English and European rabbinic study from her Presidency, from still-to-be-researched corners of the Bodleian!

A great read, a great book to possess, and – happy are they who may receive this book as a perfect gift!

‘Yikar Sahaduta Dipum Bidatta’

R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin, the Besamim Rosh and the Chida

Rabbi Moshe Maimon, Jackson NJ

Some of the worst epidemics we have known in our history have indirectly been the catalyst for important contributions by scholars who produced their valuable works under quarantine. Eliezer Brodt has published in these pages considerable lists of such scholarship, from bygone plagues down to the current terrible epidemic, which highlight the vast scope of this literary bounty.

I recently came across a very interesting sefer-epidemic connection which I have not seen mentioned yet. This material highlights the contribution of a scholar who was quite probably in quarantine when he produced his indices to a well-known and much debated sefer—R. Saul Berlin’s storied publication, Besamim Rosh. Perhaps most famous (or infamous) for its reputation as the ultimate rabbinic forgery, an exhaustive history of this volume has already been written (and interested readers would do well to refresh their memory with the excellent survey in this blog post by Dan Rabinowitz & Eliezer Brodt; see also Eliezer Brodt’s exhaustive bibliography on the subject in a footnote in Yeshurun, vol. 24, pp. 425-427). My own study of the saga of this sefer during the present COVID-19 quarantine era can hopefully shed light on some striking details pertaining to this account.

R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin in defense of Besamim Rosh

Those who have followed the rocky history associated with Besamim Rosh will recall the strenuous defense of this sefer penned by R. Saul’s father, R. Tzvi Hirsh Levin, rabbi of Berlin, and reproduced in the introduction to Rabbi Amar’s recent edition of Besamim Rosh, and most recently, together with a facsimile of the original, in R. Yisroel Chaim Tessler’s comprehensive overview of the history of R. Saul Berlin and the Besamim Rosh in Pe’alim LaTorah (vol. 34 pp. 226-229).

Modern books of Hebrew Bibliography, such as Friedberg’s Bet Eked Sefarim and Winograd’s Otzar HaSefer Ha’Ivri, contain an entry for a separate pamphlet published by R. Zvi Hirsch Levin written in defense of the Besamim Rosh entitled Yikar Sahaduta. This has led some to conclude that in addition to his letter of defense, R. Levin also wrote an additional pamphlet to clear his son of any suspicion. As far as I could tell, a separate pamphlet by this name is not to be found in any library or other public holding (cf. the aforementioned Pe’alim LaTorah article fn. 61), however, the Heimann Michael collection catalogue אוצרות חיים contains an entry on p. 250 for a copy of Besamim Rosh which has an additional pamphlet by R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin by this name appended to it, and this is likely the source for the entry in the aforementioned bibliographies.

As the printed books from Heimann Michael collection were later purchased by the British Library, it stands to reason that we may yet be able to ascertain if this Yikar Sahaduta is indeed a separate publication, though I have a hunch it is none other than R. Levin’s famous (untitled) letter that must have been bound at a later date with the sefer (as it is in R. Levin’s manuscript copy of the Besamim Rosh held at The Russian State Military Archives, see here).

The existence of a volume of R. Saul’s earlier controversial work, Mitzpeh Yakte’el (Berlin 1789), bound with R. Levin’s letter in defense of the Besamim Rosh, would lend some weight to this supposition. This copy is attested to by Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, in his Sefer VeSayaf (New York 1967, pp. 213-215), who was somehow misled by it into thinking that the defense of Besamim Rosh was written and published with Mitzpeh Yakte’el four years prior to the actual publication of the Besamim Rosh! In any event, the British Library is at present closed to staff and public alike due to Covid-19 restrictions, and I have had to arrest my investigation of the matter for now.

While In Seclusion…

This untitled letter starts with some rhymed prose, beginning with the words איש עניו, and continues on with a passionate defense of the integrity of the sefer, and includes a barely restrained attack on those who dare to impugn it. R. Levin writes that anyone who disparages this sefer is besmirching the good name of R. Levin himself, for it was he who had given the sefer his imprimatur after reading it in manuscript form (prepared for him by his other son, R. Shlomo, later famous as R. Solomon Hirschell, Chief Rabbi of Great Britain). The manuscript had been in his possession for close to ten years prior to its 1793 printing, and it was R. Levin himself who had helped prepare the indices for this volume during his stay in Pyrmont:

והנה מעידני עלי שמים וארץ כי הספר הלז הועתק לי מבני הרבני המופלג ומושלם כמוהר”ר שלמה נר”ו זה כעשר שנים, ואני בעצמי עשיתי לו המפתחות כסדר הטורים בפרמונד… ואם כדברי המתקדשים הללו בי אני העון אשר הסכמתי להוציאם לאורה ולא על בני הגאון נר”ו לבד תלונתם כי אם גם עלי.

[I call heaven and earth as my witnesses that this sefer was copied for me about ten years ago by my son, the distinguished and perfect rabbi, R. Solomon, may G-d protect and keep him, and I personally prepared the indices according to the order of the Tur in Pyrmont… and if these sanctimonious hypocrites are correct, then the fault lies with me for sanctioning the publication; their grievance is not just with my son [R. Saul], the exemplary scholar, may G-d keep and protect him, but rather with me as well]

R. Menachem Silber pointed out to me that this Pyrmont is most probably the resort and spa town Bad Pyrmont. Here is a contemporary depiction of the promenade between the baths and the town of Pyrmont from 1780, about the time of R. Levin’s stay there, courtesy of Wikipedia.

R. Levin does not explain in this letter the significance of his stay in Pyrmont. However, in an entry in his journal, published by his descendant, R. Tzvi Michaelsohn, in his responsa Tirosh VeYitzhar in the section at the end of the sefer devoted to his antecedents’ novellae (new pagination, p. 35), we read the following:

כל זה כתבתי לי זה רבות בשנים ועתה בשנת תקו”ם לפ”ק בהיותי בפירמונד ונשב בד בבד ואין ספרים הצריכים בידי כי אם מעט אשר לקחתי מביתי ומהם ס’ בשמים ראש כ”י )ברור שכך צ”ל, ובמקור “כו'” וכנראה נשתבש המעתיק בהעתקת כתה”י – MM).

[I had written the above some years ago, but now in the year 1786, while dwelling in solitude in Pyrmont, I have few sefarim with me save for the few that I was able to take with me from home, including the sefer Besamim Rosh in manuscript].

This manuscript’s placement in Pyrmont is further evidenced by an inscription on the manuscript by one Yechiel Michel b. R. Isserl who, writing in Pyrmont (the date 1757 given in the JNUL catalogue is obviously an error in transcription), attests that the volume was in the possession of “the exemplary scholar and great rabbi of Berlin and its environs” (a reference to R. Levin himself). Later (p. 41), R. Levin writes further of his stay in Pyrmont:

ב”ה פירמונד. לאשר אין אתי כי אם ספרי משניות ושאר ספרי דבי רב אינם נמצאים כאן אמרתי לרשום כל העולה בלבי עד ירחם ה‘ לנו ונעיין בה.

[By the Grace of G-d, Pyrmont: Having no sefarim with me here, save for a set of Mishnayot and a few other rabbinic volumes, I have determined to note whatever thoughts occur to me until God has mercy on us and I have the opportunity to do further research on them].

I have not found confirmation of an epidemic in the environs of Berlin in the year 1786, but the fact that R. Levin bemoaned his having to remain in solitude in Pyrmont, bereft of his holy works, until God shows mercy on his people, does strongly indicate that he was not there on vacation, but was forced to shelter in place there to avoid the plague. Perhaps one of the readers can supply more information and shed light on this episode.

Be that as it may, it is clear that R. Levin took advantage of his time in Pyrmont to thoroughly review the manuscript volume of Besamim Rosh (see also further references to Besamim Rosh in his novella, ibid. p. 38 section 41:3, 42:6 and p. 44 section 56:1), and it was then that he created the indices for the sefer. This must have been no small feat, as he was likely forced to rely in great part on his prodigious memory due to the dearth of basic source material available at Pyrmont.

Noteworthy in itself is that the manuscript of Besamim Rosh was among the few volumes R. Levin took with him to Pyrmont, indicative of his interest – unique among his contemporaries – in manuscript works of Rishonim. Further testament to this interest is R. Levin’s copy of a manuscript of Sefer Ra’avyah (today known as The Beth Din & Beth Hamidrash Library, London, England Ms. 11) which later formed the basis of the new edition published by R. David Deblitzky (Bnei Braq 2005), and which contains many glosses in R. Levin’s hand. One such gloss actually concerns the Besamim Rosh, and it is published here for the first time in its entirety (it is cited in R. Deblitzky’s edition, vol. 1 p. 40 fn. 14, though R. Deblitzky had trouble deciphering a couple of words):

נראה שיש כאן חסרון לשון ומ”מ אנו למדין ממנו שמחלוקת ישנה היא אי בעל קרי מותר בתפילין וכאשר כתבתי במקום אחר לסתום פי דוברי נבלה אשר שננו לשונם דבר מר על ספר בשמים ראש

[There appears to be a lacunae here, however, we may adduce from this statement that the debate with regards to the permissibility of a Ba’al Keri to wear tefillin is an old one, and I already wrote on this elsewhere to silence the speakers of mendacity (cf. Yeshayahu 9:16 – MM) who sharpened their tongues to speak ill of the sefer Besamim Rosh].

Besamim Rosh in the Chida’s Shem HaGedolim

Once on the topic of the Besamim Rosh and R. Levin’s letter of defense of it, I would like to revisit the issue of the Chida’s opinion of the sefer, and his response to R. Levin’s missive supporting it. (I had touched on this previously in a note to an article for Yeshurun vol. 28 p. 935 fn. 3).

Our primary concern will be with the entry on Besamim Rosh in the Chida’s popular bibliographical work, Shem HaGedolim, though our study of his views will give us occasion to examine statements in various other works of his as well (followed by loose translations of these statements that aim to preserve the intent of the Chida’s rich rhetorical melitza, if not necessarily its literal translation). In the course of our study, it will serve us well to bear in mind that the Chida was ever the prolific writer who particularly favored the Sephardic style of journalistic study, and in the course of his study he would constantly note in his journals anything he wished to be able to refer to later.

[In Sephardic parlance these journals would be called Zichronot – perhaps best rendered in English as ‘reminders’ – as distinct from the same term used in Ashkenazic circles to denote memoir literature. For the Chida’s own use of the term in describing his journals see the list in the bibliographical work Maranan VeRabanan appended to the Machon HaMao’r edition of Shem HaGedolim vol. 2 p. 52 #17. This list adds to the scant entry in the previous edition of Maranan VeRabanan, Jerusalem 1991, though it is far from comprehensive. The Chida also alluded to this term in the naming of his sefer Eyn Zocher as evidenced in his prelude there].

The Chida’s prolific sefarim output was based on this method of study, as he would use the material in these diaries for publication in his many sefarim (compare in general Meir Benayahu’s description of the Chida’s method of arranging his notes for publication in his biography, Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulay, Jerusalem, 1959, p. 93). Perhaps unique among his peers in this regard, the Chida, with his keen bibliographical instinct, was also accustomed to jot down historical and bibliographical items of interest to him, and these notations would later form the basis of his various works which together form his celebrated Shem HaGedolim (cf. Oded Cohen’s doctoral dissertation on the Chida’s cultural world: Chadashim Gam Yeshanim, Tel Aviv University, 2016, from p. 169, and recently, in the introduction to the new edition of Shem Hagedolim published by Machon HaMa’or (Jerusalem, 2019).

Contemporary editions of this work are all based on the 1852 edition, edited and published in Vilna by Yitzchak Isaac Ben-Jacob. This volume is an amalgamation of two separate, though similar, works published in various editions by the Chida, Shem HaGedolim and Va’ad Lechachamim, along with various supplemental additions appended by him to some of his subsequent works, ordered in separate arrangements – by names of scholars and by names of publications. On this edition in general, and on the editorial discretion (and liberties) employed by its publisher in particular, see the excellent article by Oded Cohen, ‘The Freedom of Editing: Isaac Benjacob’s Re-editing of Hida’s Shem Ha-gedolim’, in Zutot 10 (2013), pp. 71-87 (based on his aforementioned dissertation, from p. 182; in both sources the date for Ben Jacob’s edition is given as 1853, seemingly based on a simple computation of the Hebrew date, תרי”ג, however the date 1852 is clearly listed on the title page, so the sefer must have been published in the few months remaining to that year after Rosh Hashana).

This streamlined format is very beneficial as it made it easy to access all of the Chida’s previously disassembled comments on a particular sefer or author, and this popular format has been reproduced in all subsequent editions. Yet, while Ben-Jacob was careful to delineate the various sources from the Chida’s publications used in each particular entry, and noted them in his footnotes, the later editions omitted his notations altogether. This has proven to be a major drawback since when attempting to unpack the chronological progression of the Chida’s views concerning a specific sefer, tracking down the earlier works that now comprise the Shem HaGedolim is often indispensable in determining what he had written when.

The new Machon HaMa’or edition does make some headway in this regard, and many times the varying publications that make up a specific entry in this edition are sourced in the notes. However, as explained in their introduction, they chose not to replicate Ben-Jacob’s system, but rather to incorporate these sources in their own notes when deemed important, without systematically annotating the text. This is a regrettable decision, as without a systematic formula by which the reader can identify the different sources, the reader is often at a loss in determining that what appears at times to be one unified entry, has in fact been culled from a variety of sources.

The entry on Besamim Rosh is one such example, since this entry contains three separate statements regarding the sefer – from two different publications and espousing different views. The written record in the Chida’s other works contains varied positions towards the sefer; an initial enthusiastic reception shifting to reserved suspicion, and finally, unqualified acceptance. Only by classifying the differing statements chronologically, is it possible to ascertain the progression of his opinions.

The Chida’s Evolving Assessment

The first statement in Shem HaGedolim concerning this sefer comes from the entry for Besamim Rosh in the first volume of his sefer Va’ad LeChachamim, a bibliographical sequel to the two previously published volumes of Shem HaGedolim. Va’ad LeChachamim was first published in 1796, though this entry was apparently written very shortly after the 1793 publication of Besamim Rosh, as indicated by the opening words “עתה מקרוב” =“just now”:

בשמים ראש – עתה מקרוב נדפס ספר זה בברלין ושיש בו סימנים שצ”ב מתשובות הרא”ש ושאר גדולים וזה שמו בשמים גימטריא שצ”ב. רא”ש תשובות הרא”ש. וזה הספר הכינו וקבצו וחקרו הרב הגדול מהר”ר יצחק די מולינא ז”ל אשר מצא ספר גדול משו”ת הרא”ש וגדולים אחרים אצל גביר אחד והוא סילת וזיקק ולקט קובץ זה ועשה עליו הגהות כמפורש שם. ועוד יש הגהות כסא דהרסנא.

[Besamim Rosh – This sefer has just now published in Berlin, and it has 392 responsa from the Rosh and other great rabbis, and it is thus called Besamim, the numerical value of which is 392. This volume was collected and prepared for publication by the great rabbi, our esteemed teacher R. Yitzchak De Molina of blessed memory, who found a large volume of responsa from the Rosh and other great rabbis at the home of a wealthy patron, and he sifted through them and collected the select ones to which he appended his comments as described within. There are also included a section of comments entitled Kasa DeHarsena].

The decidedly reserved tone of this entry is readily apparent, and the reason for this is immediately explained by the Chida’s observation below:

ואשמע אחרי קול רעש כי יש בספר זה קצת דברים זרים ואמרו שהמעתיק הראשון בארץ תוגרמה מכ”י הרב יצחק די מולינא ז”ל יש לחוש שהוסיף וגרע. ולכן הקורא בס’ זה לא יסמוך עליו דאפשר דתלי בוקי סריקי בגדולים עד אשר יחקור ויברר הדברים ודברי אמת ניכרים. ודי בזה.

[I subsequently heard a clamor to the effect that there are some strange things in this sefer, and that the person in Turkey who first transcribed this sefer from the original manuscript of R. Yitzchak De Molina of blessed memory, may have perhaps added and detracted. Therefore, one who reads this sefer should not rely on it as there exists the possibility that nonsensical things have been attributed to great rabbis, unless he first investigates and clarifies the matter; and indeed, authentic material is recognizable as such. Let this suffice].

The Chida, one of the most outstanding rabbinic scholars and bibliophiles of his time, was typically very enthusiastic about newly published rabbinic manuscripts. His writings are replete with references to new ones he had seen, and from which he gleaned various insights for inclusion in his own sefarim.

The publication of the Besamim Rosh understandably excited him and he perused it for insight into topics he had himself dealt with in his writings. In his collection of halachic essays, Tov Ayin, published in the same volume as the aforementioned Va’ad LeChachamim, some of the insights gleaned from this perusal are recorded in various sections (#8, 9, 18:12,29,86).

In fact, one particular section (#9), is devoted solely to halachic observations pertaining to the Besamim Rosh. This section consists of various entries, culled by the Chida from his many diaries, to which were added notations pertaining to thoughts he had seen in the copy of Besamim Rosh that he had borrowed for a few days.

[The Chida was careful to note when he quoted from a borrowed sefer so that contemporaries could not criticize him for not citing a specific source from a volume he had himself quoted elsewhere; see for example Shu”t Chayyim Sha’al, vol. 2, section 10 paragraph 1, to wit: “והיטב חרה לו דהיה לי להביא דברי ספר הכוונת… אך גר אנכי בארץ וכמה ספרים עיקריים אין בידי ואם חיי”ם שא”ל ספרא וספרי מקיים מצות השבה” =“He was greatly upset that I did not cite Sefer HaKavanot… however I am but sojourner in this land and I lack many basic sefarim. Even when I did borrow a specific sefer, I was quick to return it”].

One entry in this section (#9:2) records the Chida’s enthusiastic reception of the new sefer (“היום נראה בעליל ספר בשמים ראש”), and all the entries show how various notations in the Chida’s writings were enhanced by his brief study of the sefer. The section concludes with the Chida’s measured remarks concerning the suspicion that had been raised in connection with this sefer:

הן בעודני קורא דרך ארעי בספר בשמים ראש הנזכר אחרי כתבי קצת פרטים שכתבתי לעיל שמעתי שיש מפקפקים בספר הזה כמו שכתבתי בקונטריס ועד לחכמים ריש מערכת בי”ת והנה צור”ף כי הספר הנזכר שאול הוא אתי לכן עמד קנה במקומו לעת הלום וה’ יצילנו משגיאות ויראנו מתורתו נפלאות כי”ר.

[During my perfunctory study of the aforementioned sefer Besamim Rosh, after I had written the few things previously mentioned, I heard that there are those who view this sefer with suspicion as I have written in my work Va’ad LeChachamim at the beginning of section Bet, which is appended to this work. As it was a borrowed sefer, I desisted from further study of it for now. May God protect us from blunders and may it be His will to reveal wondrous Torah insights to us].

This passage is revealing in that it demonstrates how the Chida’s writings were constructed. As mentioned earlier, the Chida only had the Besamim Rosh in his possession for a few days before desisting from studying it upon hearing the negative rumors surrounding the sefer. Nevertheless, in this short amount of time he had managed to write down several pages of novellae, as well as add various notations to existing entries in his diaries. Only after hearing the rumblings did he go back to add a cautionary note vis-à-vis the Besamim Rosh.

It is alluring to visualize the Chida sitting diligently at his desk with his notebooks open and pen in hand, variously writing and studying, studying and writing. The Chida describes his decision to desist from further study of the Besamim Rosh with the phrase, “לכן עמד קנה במקומו” =“and so the pen stopped here”—likely a quite literal statement.

The language in the aforementioned entry in Va’ad Lechachamim, “ואשמע אחרי” =“I subsequently heard,” also suggests that the two paragraphs were written at separate intervals. It seems that the first paragraph was written almost as soon as the Chida held the sefer in hand, and he quickly noted the bibliographical information in the manuscript of Va’ad LeChachamim that he was working on. Only later, upon hearing of the suspicions leveled against the sefer, did he go back and added the cautionary note. (I might add that I think it likely that the original entries pertaining to the Besamim Rosh contained some of the Chida’s customarily laudatory language, such as we find in Tov Ayin, but were later mildly edited for publication in light of the new findings).

Further evidence for the two stages in the Chida’s early reception of the Besamim Rosh can be adduced from an earlier entry for Mar Avraham Gaon in Va’ad LeChachamim, where the Chida first notes a responsum of Besamim Rosh pertinent to the discussion of using the biblical name of Yishma’el, and only in a later paragraph adds the disclaimer:

ואחרי כותבי יצאו עוררין על ספר זה כמו שכתבתי להלן במערכת בית ע”ש.

[After this writing, rumors were spread impugning this sefer as noted further in section Bet, see there].

The notebooks that were to become the Va’ad LeChachamim and the Tov Ayin were not the only volumes on the Chida’s desk at the time he conducted his survey of Besamim Rosh. He was simultaneously in the process of publishing his Nachal Kedumim, a running commentary on the Chumash culled from manuscript works of Rishonim along with his own observations, which appeared alongside the classic Chumash commentaries in the five volume set of Torah Ohr, in the years 1795-1797. In this work too, the Chida had occasion to reference the Besamim Rosh, though only in the addendum, Arvei Nachal. This was pursuant to his comments on Shemot (25:4) regarding the identity of the Chilazon from which the t’chelet dye was extracted for use in the construction of the Mishkan:

אחר זמן נדפסו שו”ת בשמים ראש ומשם הוכחתי בקונטריס טוב עין סי’ ט’ אות י”ב דחלזון הוא טהור ולפי”ז נחה שקטה האר”ש כל זמן שלא מצינו בדברי רז”ל להיפך.

[After some time, the responsa Besamim Rosh were published and from there I was able to prove in my compendium Tov Ayin, section 9 paragraph 12, that the Chilazon was a kosher species, and accordingly, the matter is settled as long as we don’t find any contradictory passage in the words of our sages of blessed memory].

Interestingly, here the Chida refers to what he had written in his Tov Ayin based on the Besamim Rosh, though this is already after the Chida became aware of the calumnies leveled against the Besamim Rosh, and he therefore adds the postscript that he is only relying on the Besamim Rosh as a proof text inasmuch as the conclusion drawn from this particular responsum is not contradicted by any Talmudic findings. It is instructive to contrast this position with his initial position regarding Besamim Rosh, displayed earlier in Tov Ayin (section 8) whereby the Chida exhorts his correspondent to follow the ruling of Besamim Rosh, as they are the words of the Rishonim.

One reference to Besamim Rosh in Tov Ayin (18:29), where the Chida highlights the finer points of his earlier discussion regarding the propriety of using the name Yishma’el, was similarly penned after the Chida had begun to view the sefer with suspicion, and he reiterates the disclaimer that he had made in Va’ad LeChachamim:

ועוד האריך בשו”ת בשמים ראש סימן י”ט ובתשובה לא חתים שמה דמארה עלה ואין לסמוך עליה, ומה גם שנשמע שערערו שהמעתיק תשובות אלו בתוגרמה הוסיף איזה דברים כמ”ש בקונטריס ועד לחכמים.

[This is elaborated on in the responsa Besamim Rosh section 19; however that particular responsum is unsigned and it cannot be relied upon – especially after hearing the rumors claiming that the copyist of these responsa in Turkey added some interpolations, as I have written in Va’ad LeChachamim].

Suspicion Raised by Anonymous Responsa

Throughout, it is apparent that the Chida’s main suspicion lay with those responsa that appear in Besamim Rosh anonymously. This concurs with the gist of the rumors that had reached the Chida, spelled out in the aforementioned entry in Va’ad LeChachamim and also mentioned briefly in Tov Ayin, namely, that an unnamed scribe in Turkey was responsible for inserting non-authentic responsa into his transcription of the original collection.

This brings us to the letter of defense of Besamim Rosh penned by R. Levin, and the Chida’s reaction to it. Though this letter was penned in 1794, it only reached the Chida’s attention after the 1796 publication of the first volume of Va’ad LeChachamim – though sometime before the 1798 publication of the second volume (a digital copy of which can be found here), for only in this second volume, does the Chida record his reception of this letter:

בשמים ראש – עמ”ש בח”א, ואחר זמן ראיתי בדפוס דברי הגאון הגדול המפורסם ר”מ ואב”ד דק”ק ברלין יע”א מהר”ר צבי הירש נר”ו, אמר מר כי שמע מוציאי דבה על הס’ הנז’, והפיץ והדיח כל הדברים יגעים ואסהדתיה דרב כי הספר תמים כתיב ביה והיה עשר שנים בביתו טרם שנדפס ואהניא לן יק”ר סהדותא דפום בדת”א.

[Besamim Rosh – See what I wrote in volume one. After some time I saw a printed letter from the great and famous exemplary scholar, Chief Rabbi and Academy head of the holy community of Berlin, may G-d rebuild His city Amen, our esteemed teacher and rabbi R. Tzvi Hirsch, may G-d protect and keep him. Our master said that he heard of people spreading calumnies against the aforementioned sefer, and he shattered and discredited all the inane words. The rabbi testified regarding the integrity of the sefer which had been in his possession for ten years prior to its publication, and we were pleased with his testimony against the deceitful speech].

Mystery Phrase

At the end of this volume, in a section devoted to corrigenda entitled Shulchan BaMidbar, the Chida noted that two words should be added to the concluding sentence of this entry: ותנן בבחירת”א.

However, the meaning of this rhetorical flourish is not entirely clear. In my aforementioned Yeshurun article, I suggested that these words be taken in context of the Chida’s generally strong aversion to controversy, and translated accordingly as “and it was therefore chosen for inclusion.”

Later, R. Betzalel Deblitzky wrote to me proposing that these words be understood as the Chida’s emphasis of his endorsement of R. Levin’s testimony, which he did by applying to it the same Talmudic phrase used to indicate that the Halacha is in accordance with those choice halachic testimonies recorded in Masechet Eduyot (cf. Rashi Kiddushin, end of 54b).

This reading, however, is not without difficulty. At the outset, if nothing essential has been added, it is hard to see why the Chida would trouble himself to add these two words in the corrigenda. Furthermore, in an addendum to what was to be the Chida’s final publication, his Mar’it Ha’Ayin, in a parallel passage to this one in Va’ad LeChachamim 2, the Chida writes:

ועתה אמת אגיד כי בקונטריס ועד לחכמים, ושם בטוב עין כתבתי דיצאו עוררין על ספר בשמים ראש, ע”ש, ואחר זמן ראיתי פתקא אחת שהדפיס הגאון מוהר”ר הירש אב”ד דק”ק ברלין להפיץ ולהדיח מה שערערו על הס’ הנזכר, והעיד שהס’ הנזכר הוא אמיתי ולא חלו בו ידים כלל, והוא היודע ועד, ועוד האריך בזה. ובודאי דסמכינן אהימנותיה ואהניא לן אסהדתיה.

[And now, I must tell you the truth; previously I had written in the compendium Va’ad LeChachamim, and in that same volume, in Tov Ayin, that rumors were spread impugning the sefer Besamim Rosh – see what I wrote there. Yet, after a while I saw a single flyer printed by the exemplary scholar, our esteemed teacher and rabbi R. Hirsch, Chief Rabbi of the holy community of Berlin, in order to shatter and discredit the rumors impugning the aforementioned sefer, and in it he testified that the aforementioned sefer is authentic and has not been tampered with at all, saying that he knows this to be true firsthand; and he elaborated in this vein. We should certainly rely on his trustworthiness, and I was pleased with his testimony].

It is instructive to note the similarity in language in these two parallel passages. It would appear that one of these passages actually served as the basis for the other. The fact that the Chida in this Mar’it Ha’Ayin passage only refers to the first volume of Va’ad LeChachamim and not to the updated entry in Volume Two, is a strong indication that this particular passage had been penned before the 1798 publication of Volume Two, in which case it is more than likely that the Chida copied the gist of this paragraph into his final draft of Volume Two as he readied it for publication. This possibility is further bolstered by the observation that the Chida’s language in this passage indicates that this is his first telling of his about-face on the Besamim Rosh on account of R. Levin’s bulletin.

The upshot of this is that in view of the source for the entry in Va’ad LeChachamim, the addition of the two words ותנן בבחירת”א in the corrigenda, which do not appear in the original source, does not appear to serve the purpose of emphasis alone. More likely, those two words serve a purpose germane to the context in which they appear, namely as an apologetic for the inclusion of the Besamim Rosh entry in the Chida’s sefer.

My final objection to this reading is based on my understanding of the Chida’s rhetorical melitzah style. This reading would have it that the term ותנן בבחירת”א here is borrowed from its Talmudic context, with the intent to draw a parallel from its usage there. I feel this reading is more typical of the Ashkenazic melitzah of Chida’s contemporaries – such as the celebrated R. Ya’akov Emden – who would throw around Talmudic and biblical phrases in loose context just to emphasize a point connected to the meaning of the phrase in its original context. In this sort of melitzah, one cannot fully comprehend the import of the words without knowledge of their meaning in the original, though oftentimes the message of the passage is abundantly clear on its own.

The Chida’s Sephardic melitza, however was of a rather different sort. In his melitzah, the words from the fragmented biblical or talmudical quotation – applied with little regard to proper syntax and grammar – are intended to take the place of words with similar meaning, and must be read with the sentence in order to make sense. As such, it would be expected that these two words are to be understood as saying something distinct and are not just intended to add fuel to the fire.

In this case, the Chida hyphenated בבחירת”א, which he invariably does in order to highlight that the word is being used in a different manner, or with a different spelling, than in its original context. This leads me to believe that בבחירת”א here is not a reference to the Talmudic use of the phrase in which בחירתא is the name given to the collection of choice testimonies in Masechet Eduyot, but is rather used here as to indicate the Chida’s choice (בחירה) in including the entry in his bibliographical compendium.

Unequivocal Acceptance

It may also refer to the Chida’s general acceptance of the sefer, as from this point forward, the Chida freely references the sefer without adding any note of reservation, such as in his Kisse Rachamim (Livorno 1803, Soferim, Tosefot, 1:9). Especially noteworthy is the citation in his 1798 publication Shu”T Yosef Ometz (section 11) where for the third time the discussion is raised about the permissibility of using names such as Yishma’el. While in the first two discussions cited earlier, the mention of the responsum in Besamim Rosh prompted the Chida’s subsequent disclaimer, here the mention of this responsum is stated with equanimity.

Despite the ambiguity of this particular addendum, it is clear that the Chida relied completely on R. Levin’s letter and that, in his mind, the sefer was now clear of all suspicion. Yet, one question remains. If, as the Chida stated in the Besamim Rosh entry in Va’ad LeChachamim, the suspicions concerned additions to the manuscript by an unknown scribe while still in Turkey—that is before reaching the hands of the publisher in Berlin, R. Saul Berlin, and his father, R. Hirsch Levin—how would R. Levin’s testimony to the integrity of the manuscript allay these suspicions? After all, R. Levin’s manuscript was based on the one which contained these alleged interpolations! (An editorial footnote to my article points out that this question already bothered the author of Dikdukei Soferim in his glosses to Shem Hagedolim).

In my Yeshurun article, I posited that the Chida deliberately concealed the real suspicions surrounding the sefer, namely that R. Saul himself was responsible for the fraudulent interpolations in Besamim Rosh, and out of respect for R. Saul’s father, the Chida instead blamed these insertions on some anonymous copyist in Turkey. Later, I saw that R. Matisyahu Shtrashun had already reached a similar conclusion in his notes to Sh. Y. Fuenn’s Kiryah Ne’emanah (Vilna 1915, p. 47-48).

An observation noted in the new edition of Shem HaGedolim by Machon HaMa’or may lend weight to this interpretation; nowhere in all the entries pertaining to this sefer does the Chida so much as mention the name of the publisher R. Saul Berlin. This is all the more conspicuous after the Chida mentions that the notes, Kasa DeHarsena, were appended to the sefer, without mentioning the author of these notes, R. Saul Berlin himself.

On the surface, this may indeed be indicative of the Chida’s holding of R. Saul in contempt for his role in the forgery. Yet, as noted in the same Yeshurun article, the Chida rarely cites his contemporaries in his Shem HaGedolim, and little can be deduced from the omission of R. Saul’s name. This is particularly true in light of the fact that previously, in his 1785 Machazik Beracha, and his 1790 Petach Eynayim, the Chida responded to critical glosses penned by the same R. Saul Berlin on the Chida’s Birkei Yoseph on Yoreh De’ah, and when referring to these glosses, the Chida does not name the author, whom he describes as ‘a formidable scholar’ (גברא רבא), and refers to him only as ‘the German Rabbi’ (see R. Reuven Margalios article in Areshet, Jerusalem 1944, pp. 414-417, and R. Ya’akov Chaim Sofer, Menuchat Shalom, vol. 8 p. 229). Similarly, when the Chida refers in his Shu”T Yosef Ometz (section 7), to something R. Saul wrote in Kasa DeHarsena, he refers only to the sefer but does not mention the author by name.

Furthermore, we have already seen how the Chida reiterates the claim about the errant Turkish copyist in his Tov Ayin, itself an indication that this is an accurate description of the claim countered by the Chida. As previously indicated, this passage underscores that the Chida was not worried about forgery as much as unworthy interpolation; he was therefore only concerned about an unattributed and unsigned responsum.

In the Final Analysis…

I now think that the Chida’s report of interpolations by an unnamed Turkish copyist should be taken at face value. Though the Chida’s language indicates that the complaints leveled against the Besamim Rosh were mere hearsay (as opposed to R. Levin’s defense which the Chida stresses he saw in print), and we cannot specifically identify the source of the rumors that reached his ears, we do know that similar rumors did indeed abound. Take for instance this quote from one of the leading antagonists, R. Mordechai Benet, in his Parashat Mordechai (section 5, page 8): ‘He amassed a heap of untoward sources,’ and compare also this selection from R. Levin’s letter in response to the accusations:

כי מצאו בתוך הבשמים חלבנה, והדברים לא יצאו מפי המחברים אשר נקרא שמם עליהם כי דבר בליעל יצוק בו להדיח עם ה’ מעל אלהיהם.

[They claimed to have found foul-smelling Galbanum among the Besamim incense, and that the essays are misattributed to the authors whose names they bear, for malicious content has been added in to cause Hashem’s nation to stray from their God].

Though R. Levin’s description of the charges does include the charge of forgery, it still does not name R. Saul as the culprit, and it may indicate the presence of rumors that accused him of negligence in publishing a work that contained forged and misattributed material, while stopping short of accusing him of actually perpetrating the forgery. It should be pointed out that from a historical perspective, the notion that a rabbinic work could be a complete forgery was such an outlandish proposition at that time that even the detractors wouldn’t openly make such a claim. It would be almost a hundred years before someone like R. Matisyahu Shtrashun would seriously consider the possibility that the entire work was the brainchild of R. Saul alone, and even after that we still find the likes of the great R. Meir Simcha of Dvinsk insisting that the Besamim Rosh does contain legitimate Rishonaic responsa (see Chiddushei R. Meir Simcha, vol. 2, p. 372).

As such, we should understand that the Chida accepted R. Levin’s defense of the Besamim Rosh more as vouching for the content of the sefer, and less as attesting to his son’s innocence. Contrast this with the comments of the author of Dikdukei Soferim and R. Matisyahu Shtrashun (cf. the earlier citations to their respective comments), who both wondered how the Chida could rely on R. Levin’s testimony and ignore a father’s obvious partiality towards his son. Obviously, whereas they took R. Levin’s missive as an argument in support of his son, the Chida took it as a vindication of the sefer itself.

The Chida’s reading is in fact borne out by the bulk of R. Levin’s circular (which R. Matisyahu Shtrashun admits he had not actually seen) in which R. Levin asserts that that the presence of some strange content in a sefer should by no means disqualify it, as the same can be said of many sefarim, and it is wrong to characterize a sefer on the basis of a few anomalous statements (“for this is typical of [Jewish] apostates, they collect what appears to them as strange Aggadot and unjust laws, and they then slant them in a way that will incite hatred and animosity towards us”). In any case, he adds, when taken in context these passages can often be explained in a satisfactory manner. The Chida thus appeals to R. Levin’s authority and esteem, and after reading R. Levin’s strenuous claim for the veracity and integrity of the content of Besamim Rosh, the Chida readily accepted his testimony, and discounted the false rumors without equivocation.

Ironically, though R. Matisyahu Shtrashun has all but discounted the Chida’s reliance on the testimony of R. Levin, my reading of the Chida actually anticipates R. Shtrashun’s own opinion of the sefer. R. Shtrashun concludes his brief survey of the reception of Besamim Rosh with the following remarks:

ואחרי כל אלה יש להעיר כי אף אם נחליט שכל הספר מראשיתו ועד אחריתו מעשי ידי ר’ שאול הנהו, לא נוכל לדחותו כלאחר יד חלילה, ואחרי אשר נסיר ממנו איזה דברים שנפש היפה סולדת בהם (אשר אמנם גם שם נשאר מקום רחב ידים להפוך בזכותו) הנהו מלא תורה כרמון וריח בשמיו נודף כאפרסמון בלול בחריפות ובקיאות, מחברו חותר ומעמיק בפלפול ישר בדברי הש”ס ובדברי הראשונים והאחרונים כאחד ממיוחדי גאוני זמנו.

[Having said all this, it is worth noting that even if we were to conclude that the entire sefer from beginning to end is but the handiwork of R. Saul, we still cannot discount it out of hand. For once we remove some of the more objectionable content (although there is actually ample ground to find justification even for this content), we will find it be full of excellent Torah insight, replete with ingenuity and proficiency. The author utilizes sound sophistry in developing his penetrating arguments from the Talmud and the works of Rishonim and Acharonim, like one of the special exemplary scholars of his time].

R. Shtrashun, like most of the others who dealt with the subject, was primarily concerned with the question of the sefer’s authorship, and indeed in this regard the jury has come out strongly on the side of those who claim R. Saul produced this volume on his own. Yet, as demonstrated above, the Chida’s main interest in the provenance of the sefer was to ascertain the reliability of its content. As such, the Chida was delighted with R. Levin’s yikar sahaduta – esteemed testimony, who concluded, much as R. Shtrashun was later to write, that despite some of its questionable content – for which a justifiable argument could be made in any case – the sefer on the whole was full of valuable content, and all reports to the contrary were but pum bidatta – salacious rumors.

Taken this way, R. Levin’s appraisal, enthusiastically received by the Chida, and echoed in the assessment of R. Shtrashun, may yet stand the test of time.