The Maharsha’s Map of Yerushalayim – A Taus Sofer?

“ברכות סא: “הנפנה ביהודה

רש”י – ירושלים בארץ יהודה היא בצפונה של ארץ יהודה בגבול שבין יהודה לבנימין

By Eli Genauer

תנו רבנן, הנפנה ביהודה לא יפנה מזרח ומערב אלא צפון ודרום, ובגליל לא יפנה אלא מזרח ומערב. ורבי יוסי מתיר, שהיה רבי יוסי אומר לא אסרו אלא ברואה ובמקום שאין שם גדר ובזמן שהשכינה שורה. וחכמים אוסרים

Explanation of Rabbi Steinsaltz per Sefaria, the William Davidson edition of the Talmud

In this context, the Sages taught: One who defecates in Judea should not defecate when facing east and west, for then he is facing Jerusalem; rather he should do so facing north and south. But in the Galilee which is north of Jerusalem, one should only defecate facing east and west. Rabbi Yossi permits doing so, as Rabbi Yossi was wont to say: They only prohibited doing so when one can see the Temple, where there is no fence, and when the Divine Presence is resting there. And the Rabbis prohibit doing so.

רש״י-“הנפנה ביהודה ”

הנפנה ביהודה לא יפנה מזרח ומערב – אחוריו למזרח ופניו למערב ולא אחוריו למערב ופניו למזרח מפני שירושלים בארץ יהודה היא בצפונה של ארץ יהודה בגבול שבין יהודה לבנימין ויש מארץ יהודה הימנה [למזרח] עד סוף ארץ ישראל והימנה למערב עד סוף ארץ ישראל שארץ יהודה על פני כל אורך ארץ ישראל היא מן המזרח למערב כרצועה ארוכה וקצרה ואם יפנה מזרח ומערב יהיה פרועו לצד ירושלים או פרועו שלפניו או פרועו שלאחריו אבל צפון ודרום יפנה ובלבד שלא יפנה כנגד ירושלים ממש בדרומה של ארץ יהודה

Focusing in on the description of where Yerushalayim is located, it says “Because Yerushalayim is in Eretz Yehuda in the north of Eretz Yehuda, on the border between Yehuda and Binyamin, and there is a part of Yehudah which extends to the east until the edge of Eretz Yisroel, and extends westward until the edge of Eretz Yisroel, because Eretz Yehuda extends the entire length of Eretz Yisroel from east to west as a long and short strap.”

Maharsha – “הציור כזה” – Maharsha draws a map to illustrate the words of Rashi

Vilna Shas – courtesy of hebrewbooks.org

The first thing to consider is does the Maharsha mean that there was a ציור in Rashi?

It does not say “כזה” in Rashi

There was no space left open for a picture in the Bomberg edition of 1520 or the Soncino edition of 1484. This indicates there was no picture on the manuscript that served as the basis for the printed edition. Often חכמת שלמה (Prague 1582) will add a picture or diagram if it was missing from the Bomberg Shas. Here there is no indication of a missing picture in חכמת שלמה.

This manuscript of Rashi on Berachos also does not contain a diagram

The British Library, London, England Or. 5975

Conclusion: Maharsha is drawing a diagram of what he understands Rashi to be saying

We do not have the Ksav Yad of the Maharsha on Berachot so our best knowledge of what he actually drew comes from the Defus Rishon. How was the map represented in that edition?

There were multiple first editions of Chidushei Halachot of Maharsha. The first few Masechtos were printed anonymously. The main one was printed in 1612. Berachos was printed in Lublin in 1621

First edition of Berachos 1621- The picture is the same as the Vilna Shas

courtesy of hebrewbooks.org

Is the map correct? Does it represent the words of Rashi?

Yerushalayim is represented as being half in Yehuda and half in an area described as Binyamin and Galil. One may argue that the map was not drawn to an exact scale but it seems clear that part of Yerushalayim extends into Binyamin:

The words of Rashi say “Yerushalyim is in Eretz Yehuda in the north of Eretz Yehuda, on the border between Yehuda and Binyamin”. (שירושלים בארץ יהודה היא בצפונה של ארץ יהודה בגבול שבין יהודה לבנימין ) This seems to mean that Yerushalyim is contained within Yehuda and does not extend into Binyamin/Galil.

Ginzei Yosef (Bilgoraj 1932 by יוסף אלטר בן מרדכי אפשטיין) calls the map in the Vilna Shas a Taus Sofer and corrects the map to show Yerushalayim completely contained in Yehuda.

courtesy of hebrewbooks.org

There is some space on the east and west sides of Yerushalayim, meaning that Yerushalayim is between the eastern and western borders but does not extend to either border. (see the extra line drawn in on the west side of Yerushalayim). This is in line with the words of Rashi ויש מארץ יהודה הימנה [למזרח] עד סוף ארץ ישראל והימנה למערב עד סוף ארץ ישראל

This is also the opinion of Rav Tziyon Kohen Yehonatan (Djerba 1872-1931) in his Sefer Sha’arei Tziyon ( Dejerba 1932) courtesy of hebrewbooks.org

ולענד״ן שטאות סופר נפל בציור וצריך לצייר בענין שתהיה ירושלים כולה נכנסת בגבול של יהודה ולא כמו שכתוב בספרים שהציור הוא שמקצתה בגבול יהודה ומקצתה בגבול של בנימין דאם כן גם מזרח ומערב בארץ בנימין אסור לפנות כשיהיה כנגד ירושלים ודו״ק. 

He adds that if Yerushalayim in fact extended any distance into Binyamin, it would require those in Binyamin to also be aware of whether they were facing Yerushalyim or not.

The Sefer D”vash Tamar (Warsaw 1897) by Rabbi Dovid Teitelbaum of Mezeritch draws the map in a similar manner. In this map you can clearly see space between Yerushalayim and the western and eastern borders of Yehuda:

How is the map represented in the newer editions of the Talmud?

Oz Vehadar (Mahaduras Friedman, 2006, Page 42 Maharsha section, Hagahaos V’He’aros) copies the map of Ginzei Yosef but does not have a line on the western side of Yerushalayim. It seems to indicate that Yerushalayim extends to the western border of Yehuda which is incorrect.

Vilna HaChadash (2006 page 36 in the Maharsha section) redraws the map of the Vilna Shas but still has Yerushalayim extending into Binyamin:

Vagshal (Mahaduras Neherdea, 2008 page 27, Maharsha section) is similar to Vilna HaChadash:

Conclusion: Once something is “uploaded” into the print medium, it has a tendency to remain as it was first printed. In this case, the effects of what many have termed a Taus Sofer have remained for 400 years.

Review of Mada Toratekha Rav Yehuda Zoldan: Studying Gemara in Broad-based Depth

ר’ יהודה ברנדס מדע תורתך מסכת ברכות, מכללת הרצוג, אלון שבות תשעט 

The Following post is a short review on a new work from Rabbi Professor Yehuda Brandes on Berakhot.
For another recent article of Rabbi Brandes about Learning Gemara see this issue of Hakirah.
For a sample chapter of this new work or to purchase this work email Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com 

Over the years, a variety of different styles and approaches have been developed and applied by people who devote themselves to the study of Gemara in a serious manner. Popular genres include: iyun, pilpul, emphasis on the halakhic outcome, ethical and value-based insights, academic studies, linguistic content and literary structures, historical aspects and Talmudic realia, among others. Few individuals can successfully apply all – or even most – of the styles in their own learning, as it would require the ability to understand and master different approaches and “languages” of learning. 

Most people who sit down to learn and teach Gemara look at each issue on its own, using the approach with which they are most comfortable. They comment and suggest novel approaches on one specific matter or another, noting an interesting ruling of Maimonides or of one of the other commentaries on the issue, and so forth. In the commentaries of the aharonim (later commentaries), even after analyzing a topic in the Gemara and delving into its many details, we almost never find the presentation of a broad perspective containing insights that reflect on our place in the contemporary world. 

Rabbi Professor Yehuda Brandes, who serves today as head of Herzog College in Alon Shvut, is one of the few individuals who is conversant in the almost all of the abovementioned areas. He has succeeded in weaving all of this together in an impressive whole in his newly published book Mada Toratekha on Tractate Berakhot, the tractate that is currently being studied in the new daf yomi cycle. His yeshiva background – at Yeshivat Netiv Meir and Yeshivat HaKotel – the academic track in the Talmud that he has pursued, his rich experience as a high school teacher and lecturer in academic settings and in his community, his experience with different types of learners of different ages, his personal skills including an impressive ability to analyze different “languages” in depth, and the broad perspective that he offers, create a new and unique mix that is manifest in the book. [A previous book in this series, on Tractate Ketubot, was published in 2007.] 

There are 23 presentations in the book, each of which deals with topics appearing in Tractate Berakhot. Each one of the presentations contains material from the Jerusalem Talmud and from Midrash Halakha, together with the approaches of rishonim and aharonim (early and later commentaries), classic Yeshiva-style exegesis, references in footnotes to academic research, together with Hassidic and theological works that relate to the topic under discussion. All of this is presented succinctly, with grace and sensitivity, using modern language. The writing is both challenging and thought provoking. 

One place where this broad sweep can be seen is in the list of books and articles that appears in the bibliographic section at the end of the book – something that you rarely find in traditional commentaries. Under “alef,” for example, we find Rabbi Moshe Alashkar, Professor Hanoch Albeck, Rabbi Yosef Shalom Eliashiv, Professor Yaakov Nahum Epstein, Rabbi Yechiel Michel Epstein, and more – unusual neighbors to find sharing space on a bookshelf. This work represents a unique composite of different worlds. 

Structural analysis and existential insights 

Here is an example of one of the presentations in the book: “Praying with intent” (Chapter 13). The presentation opens with the well-known Mishnah that appears at the beginning of the fifth chapter: 

One may only stand and begin to pray from an approach of gravity and submission (koved rosh). There is a tradition that the early generations of pious men would wait one hour, in order to reach the solemn frame of mind appropriate for prayer, and then pray, so that they would focus their hearts toward their Father in Heaven. Standing in prayer is standing before God and, as such, even if the king greets him, he should not respond to him; and even if a snake is wrapped on his heel, he should not interrupt his prayer. 

(b. Berakhot 30b) 

Rav Brandes gets right to the point, noting that the Mishnah contains three distinct messages:  

– One must pray from an approach of gravity and submission (koved rosh);  

– Serious preparation for prayer is an indication of piety;  

– It is forbidden to interrupt one’s prayers. This is emphasized by the Mishnah by presenting extreme situations, e.g., when greeted by a king or challenged by a snake. 

These three messages touch on different points. Submissive prayer describes the behavior and mental state of the worshiper. Preparation and focus in prayer concentrates on the content, the interpretations of the words, and the very consciousness of standing before God. The prohibition against interrupting one’s prayers is a practical issue emphasizing the need to maintain continuity in prayer even in the face of imminent danger. 

From here Rabbi Brandes moves to the Gemara’s discussion, analyzing the four Amoraitic opinions offered, interpreting the concept of koved rosh. Although only one opinion will be accepted as law, Rabbi Brandes examines each of the four opinions – and the verses that they quote – deriving how we are to approach prayer, how we can connect awe and fear, joy and trembling. From here we are treated to a close reading of the baraitot that are brought by the Gemara that parallel the structure of the Mishnah:  

One may neither stand to pray from an atmosphere of sorrow nor from an atmosphere of laziness, nor from an atmosphere of laughter, nor from an atmosphere of conversation, nor from an atmosphere of frivolity, nor from an atmosphere of purposeless matters. Rather, one should approach prayer from an atmosphere imbued with the joy of a mitzva. 

We continue with the flow of the Gemara, as the author deals with such issues as how we can focus our hearts towards heaven in prayer, or how to train ourselves in “the art of restraint” by emulating Rabbi Akiva who prayed privately in an enthusiastic manner, in contrast with his restrained prayer when praying in public. 

In the context of prayer, the Gemara brings a number of aggadic statements about Hannah, the prophet Shmuel’s mother, whose prayer (see 1 Sam. Chapter 2) serves as an archetype for Jewish prayer generally. These statements are analyzed and recorded under a series of headings, like: “Midrash Hannah – Characteristics of an eminent worshiper,” “Intoxicated prayer,” “The expanse of the worshiper.”  

Having gathered the many sources appearing in the Gemara together with those that he introduced in his presentations, Rabbi Brandes sums them up with insights that are practical, yet existential, and applicable to the here and now. He writes: “Every individual, whether young or old, has his or her role in prayer. The Talmudic discussions, both halakhah and aggadah, can serve as a guide and a compass, directing us towards the study and experience needed for meaningful prayer. Still, the unique characteristics and personal meaning of prayer can only be attained through the efforts of the individual and the community in every generation. They must shape their experiences according to their own image and principles, based on the guidance of the prophets of Israel, its sages and its founders” (p. 217). In concluding his lesson on birkat hamazon (the Grace After Meals), Rabbi Brandes writes: “When reading the Shema and its blessings, the worshipper accepts the Yoke of Heaven ‘when you sit at home and when you travel on the way,’ with eyes closed and focused intent, disengaged from the surrounding environment. When going to pray in the synagogue, one stands before God in the midst of one’s community. It is at the dinner table at home when we have the opportunity to bring Godliness into the very heart of the physical world. This is the responsibility of the Jewish people living in God’s land, enjoying the sweetness of its fruit and enjoying God’s presence (p. 243). 

The lessons on other topics that appear in this book are treated in a similar fashion. These include, for example: “Times of the evening recitation of the Shema,” “Women’s exemptions from the commandments of Shema, Tefillin and prayer,” “Sources of blessings and their significance,” “Bread,” “Points of difference between Bet Shammai and Bet Hillel in regard to a meal,” “Dreams,” and more. 

Calling for a New Approach 

The format of the book is also unusual. There are two columns on each page, with a different font for the sources quoted from the Talmudic works and the commentaries, and with rich footnotes for reference. The book is written in a literary Hebrew and is well edited. This design is reminiscent of the layout in traditional commentaries on the Talmud, which often appear in two columns, albeit usually in “Rashi script,” with no subheadings, no footnotes, no language editing and many abbreviations. One can assume that the choice of this format is meant to suggest that what is found in this book is “new wine in a venerable container.” 

In his introduction to the book, Rabbi Brandes notes the context in which these lectures were presented over the years: in the Himmelfarb school in Jerusalem, in Beit Morasha and in community lectures. Each group contributed their part, and the unique structure of these lessons drew from their participation. The variety of students and their different ages reinforces the argument that a high quality and challenging Gemara class speaks to everyone. The tempo may be different, the emphasis might change – there are bound to be other differences, as well – but if a broad and in-depth presentation is offered, everyone becomes a partner in thinking and suggesting solutions. The outcome will be fresh insights and understandings with no limitations based on age or place. 

Many of the Talmudic tractates – and Berakhot is among them – have a myriad of recent commentaries on them that have been published. To that list of books on Tractate Berakhot we now have a new – and unique – addition. This work offers a new approach that can speak to contemporary students.  We are a generation that collects everything that has been written throughout the ages. The challenge taken up by Rabbi Brandes is to gather all those styles of learning in a respectful and harmonious fashion, and to use them to build additional layers, in a manner that both inspires and challenges. 

 

 

 

Four New books

By Eliezer Brodt

In this post I would like to briefly describe four new (well, newish) works. For a short time, copies of these works can be purchased through me for a special price. Part of the proceeds will be going to support the efforts of the Seforim Blog. Contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com for more information.

.תשובות ר’ יצחק בן שמואל מדמפייר, (ר”י הזקן), ההדירו והוסיפו מבואות פנחס רוט ואברהם (רמי) ריינר, הוצאת מקיצי נרדמים, ירושלים תש”ף, לט עמודים+ 331 עמודים

The first volume which I am very happy to announce is the publication of an important and eagerly awaited work, The Responsa of the Rabbi Isaac ben Samuel of Dampierre (Ri HaZaken), A Critical Edition, edited with an introduction and notes by Avraham (Rami) Reiner & Pinchas Roth. This volume was printed by Mekitzei Nirdamim and is distributed by Magnes Press. The following is from the book’s abstract:

Isaac ben Samuel of Dampierre, often known as Ri ha-Zaken, was a leading figure in the Tosafist movement. The Tosafists were active in Northern France during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. Their dialectical approach to interpretation of the Talmud and other classic rabbinic texts created a revolution in Jewish intellectual life. This volume gathers, for the first time, 140 responsa written by Isaac of Dampierre in response to questions of practical law and legal interpretation. Each responsum was edited according to the most accurate manuscripts, with a critical apparatus and extensive historical and textual notes. The introduction explores Isaac of Dampierre’s life and thought as they emerge from the responsa.

Here is the table of contents for this work:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.יוסף פרץ, לשון ומסורה אסופת מאמרים, הוצאת מכללת אורות ישראל, 570 עמודים

The second book which I would like to mention is by Yoseph Peretz, Language and Masorah. Peretz is one of the leading experts in the field of the Masorah and Hebrew Language. This fascinating volume is a compilation of his articles, new and those published over many years, on a wide range of topics. If you’re interested in an in-depth introduction of the book e mail me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

Here is the table of contents for this work that gives one an idea of what the work is about:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.אהרן קסל, העולם המופלא של נוסח התורה, כרמל, 356 עמודים

The third book which I would like to mention is the Wondrous story of the Text of the Torah by Aharon Cassel.

The description of this book is as follows:

This book may aptly be subtitled: “Everything You Wanted to Know about the Text of the Torah But Were Afraid to Ask.” It deals mainly with the letter-text (consonantal text) of the Torah as it appears in Torah scrolls. The discussion centers around the variations between the texts in various sources, the methods of transmission of the text, and the mechanisms (like the Masorah) that are intended to guarantee the accuracy of the transmission. The book also touches on the subject of the closed and open ‘parshiyot’ in the Torah and the structure of the two songs in the Torah, the Song of the Sea and the Song of Moses (Haazinu). It also relates to the vocalization and cantillation notes in the text but not to the graphic form of the letters.

Topics dealt with in the book are: Who determined the text of the Torah that is accepted today? What are the differences between the various texts, both those we have today and those from generations ago? How was the Torah transmitted in biblical times? What happened to the text during the Babylonian exile and what was the enterprise of Ezra and the men of the Great Assembly? Who added the vocalization and cantillation notes to the letter text, and why? When did they start becoming strict about matres lectionis (the use of certain consonants to indicate a vowel in the word i.e. the spelling of the word being defective [haser] or plene [ma’le])? What is the Masorah? Why is the Aleppo Codex unique? What is special about the Yemenite text? What is the fascinating story of the Rema’s (Rabbi Moses Isserles) Torah scroll? What was Rabbi Mordechai Breuer’s amazing enterprise?

This book deals with these questions and many more, in an attempt to encompass the entire subject and to give the reader a taste of its many aspects. The book is intended for anyone interested in Judaism, Jewish history or the history of books; for readers with Jewish religious knowledge and for those who do not have such knowledge.

Here is the table of contents for this work:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.אמנון בזק, נצחוני בני, שאלות יסוד בלימוד תורה שבעל פה, ידיעות ספרים, 486 עמודים

The fourth work I would like to mention is from Amnon Bazak, titled Fundamental Questions in the Study of Oral Law. This very useful, clearly written book deals with key questions about: Torah She-Baal Peh, which parts were given at Sinai, how Drashot work – especially when they are contradict P’shuto Shel Mikra, Pshuto Shel Mishna and the editing of the Talmud.

Here is the table of contents for this work:

New Notes Added in the Koren Talmud Bavli
Shalom Z. Berger

I would like to thank Chaim Katz for his close reading of the Koren Talmud Bavli, focusing on the new notes that were added in Tractate Berakhot, which he shared in a recent post on the Seforim Blog. His post offers an opportunity to share some of the background to the changes in the new English edition as compared to the original Steinsaltz Talmud Hebrew edition.

Perhaps the most important thing to clarify is the thinking that went into the decision to produce a new translation of the Talmud in English. What has driven much of Rav Steinsaltz’ publishing is his belief that basic Jewish texts should not be confined to a specific group in the Jewish world. Jewish texts belong to all Jews, and all Jews should be given access to the wisdom of Jewish thinkers and writers. This was the idea behind the original Steinsaltz translation of the Talmud Bavli into modern Hebrew, and it is what led to the decision to develop an English translation that would be based on it. From the current chatter on social media, it appears that the combination of the availability of this English edition of the Talmud Bavli and the publicity given to Daf Yomi study following the recent Siyum HaShas has confirmed the wisdom of this undertaking.

When the team involved in the translation first gathered to discuss what changes – if any – would be made to the English edition, many possibilities were discussed. First and foremost, was the layout itself. It would have been impossible to fit a side-by-side translation next to the tzurat hadaf of the traditional Vilna Shas, yet there was a strong feeling that the tzurat hadaf was essential. Was an interlinear translation important – following the tradition of the Steinsaltz Hebrew (and competing English) translation – or were there other, perhaps even better, ways of presenting a translation that matched the original Aramaic text? Without going into details (perhaps that is for another Seforim blog post), the decision was made to create a volume that could serve as a pedagogic tool, with the original text facing an English translation that highlights the literal translation, while interspersing language that helped with transition and clarification. A separate section had the tzurat hadaf with full punctuation and vowelization for both Gemara and Rashi, and light punctuation for Tosafot. The idea was that someone with little background in Talmud study would start with the translation, following it to learn terminology and cadence, and work their way up to the “Hebrew” side of the Gemara while having the English translation as a reference.

Beyond the standard contents, the Hebrew Steinsaltz Gemara includes a number of additions that appear on virtually every page. The bottom of the page contains iyunim and halakha, while the side bars have girsa’ot, lashon and a number of different categories, e.g., hahayyim, ha’olam, ishim, etc. Another addition that is not nearly as obvious to the reader is the replacement of censored lines, like the addition of כגון ישו הנוצרי (Berakhot 17b). I do not believe that the idea behind these additions was to produce an “academic” edition of the Talmud, rather the point was to make the Talmud as accessible as possible – to introduce the personalities of the participants in the Talmudic discussions, to clarify the realia that often leaves the reader confused by means of maps, charts and images, to show how the discussions on the Talmud page lead to a conclusion in the codes, and so forth.

Many hours were spent deciding which of these to include and whether the English edition required changes or updates. For example, there was talk of adding contemporary responsa to the halakha category (a suggestion that was ultimately rejected). The final decision was to leave out girsa’ot, to update lashon with an advisory group of academic scholars, to review the iyunim, adding new ones or removing old ones as necessary, to update the “personalities” biographies and to combine most of the different additional categories into a single “background” category. Perhaps the most obvious changes apparent to anyone who opens the Koren Talmud Bavli are the image upgrades that appear throughout the different volumes. Far from the simple sketches that appear in the original, the new images are clear, full-color (in the standard edition) representations that make these volumes aesthetically appealing and offer greater clarification of the issue at hand.

When making changes in the notes, it was essential that the Talmud being produced in English remain the “Steinsaltz Gemara” in that the new material would reflect Rav Steinsaltz’ approach to teaching and learning. As such, it was necessary for someone familiar with Rav Steinsaltz’ somewhat eclectic approach to compiling notes in his Gemara to spearhead that effort. I had just finished a multi-year project reviewing Rav Steinslatz’ notes on the entire Shas, producing a daily essay based on his teachings (see here), and I was tasked with heading up the team that was to work on the English notes in the new edition.

Our assumption was that the audience for the new English Talmud would be less familiar with concepts and personalities appearing in the Gemara than Hebrew speakers, so we aimed to make sure that when new concepts or personalities appeared, they would receive a background or personality note.

The most obvious method of adding relevant material was to “borrow” from Rav Steinsaltz’ own work – from other tractates in the Hebrew Talmud Bavli, from his Reference Guide to the Talmud and from his other published works. To assist in this, a database was created of all the notes that appeared in the original Steinsaltz Hebrew Gemara, from which notes could be readily accessed and inserted, as appropriate. Beyond that, decisions would have to be made about where to insert new notes (or change existing ones), and research would need to be done to ensure the quality and consistency of those notes.

The new audience presented other challenges, as well. Translating holy texts is a weighty matter, indeed (see b. Megillah 3a). It is well-known that select quotes from the Talmud have been used as the basis for anti-Semitic screeds since medieval times.[1] Making the Talmud available in English exposes it to an impossibly broad populace, and we believed that it would be necessary to offer background explanations to sections that could be viewed in a negative or questionable light. Heated online discussions that included the Editor-in Chief, Rav Tzvi Hersh Weinreb, other members of the editorial team, and outside experts, led to the creation of new notes that were inserted in the volumes.

What kind of notes would be added? Here are some examples:

– Notes were inserted to offer explanations for Talmudic statements that cast Gentiles in a bad light. Here we repeatedly turned to the well-known Meiri, “who explains that the Sages in the Talmud were referring to pagans whose way of life was completely lacking in ethical or moral constraints, and who for many centuries cruelly persecuted and murdered the Jews. The Meiri claims that by his time in the thirteenth century, all of humanity had adopted the moral and ethical codes of the major monotheistic religions. Therefore, statements like the one in the mishna do not apply to contemporary gentiles.”[2]

– Another example is how to deal with statements in the Gemara that appear to present beliefs that are contradicted by modern science. The following note appears in Sanhedrin 91a:

Akhbar that today is half flesh and half earth: Post-talmudic sages, ranging from Maimonides to Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, have asserted that Talmudic beliefs about the natural world were an outgrowth of the prevailing views of the wider society in Talmudic times. The Sages of the Talmud lived many centuries before the development of modern science and were influenced by contemporaneous scientific theories. Therefore, their notions of the natural world, some with halakhic implication, are at times inconsistent with modern science. In the case of the creature discussed here, the Sages may have heard reports of a creature of this kind, or may even themselves have observed a creature emerging from the earth that superficially appeared to be half-flesh and half-earth. It is apparent that some commentaries (Rashi, Meiri) hold that it is a product of spontaneous generation, a phenomenon that was universally accepted well in the nineteenth century but is rejected by modern science.

On the one hand, this type of note is typical of the Steinsaltz realia background notes that attempt to make the Gemara explicable to contemporary understanding. At the same time, it does depart from the usual approach by recognizing the fact that scientific beliefs appearing in the Talmud may be incorrect.

– We also added notes to explain passages in the Gemara that are hard to understand from the perspective of the natural world. As an example, the Gemara in Shevuot 23a quotes a Baraita that teaches: “A priest who ate pressed figs from Ke’ila or drank honey or milk and then entered the Temple and performed the sacrificial rites is liable for violating the prohibition against conducting the Temple service while intoxicated.” An existing Hebrew language Steinsaltz note suggests that the figs from Ke’ila may have caused intoxication because their high sugar levels could lead to fermentation that produced alcohol. No mention is made about how honey or milk might lead to intoxication. In this case, the new note was based on a suggestion made by Rav Menachem Kasher in his Torah Shelemah,[3] leading to the following:

Milk can also ferment, and in some cultures it is common to drink fermented alcoholic milk beverages known as Kefir. In the Bible there are references to the intoxicating powers of milk (see Judges 4:19). Another possibility is that the word halav here, rather than denoting milk, is referring to white date wine. This usage appears a number of times in rabbinic literature. The Jerusalem Talmud (Shabbat 19:5) discusses halav in the context of teruma, which can consist only of produce. Similarly, the Targum translates the word halav in the Song of Songs (5:1) as referring to white wine (Torah Shelema).

– As noted above, perhaps the most attractive additions were the enhanced images. Accompanying the above-mentioned note were new images of figs, together with a map of Israel showing the location of Ke’ila. On more than one occasion, I received a request from editors asking for suggestions of images that could be added to tractates that were lacking visual enhancements to the text.

Tractate Berakhot, which is what Chaim Katz focused on in his review, posed a problem of a different order. Simply put, Berakhot has a lot of words on each page.⁴ This led to a situation where the original Hebrew Steinsaltz, which limited to a single amud to a two page spread, had little room for explanatory notes, given that the text of the Gemara, Rashi and the Hebrew translation took up almost all the room on the page. This was especially true on pages of aggada, where the Gemara text took up even more room on the page, so that on pages where Rav Steinsaltz’ commentary would have been especially helpful, there was little to be found. The English translation pages did not have these limitations – indeed, English translation guaranteed that there would be quite a bit of “white space” – and it became necessary to add material that matched Rav Steinsaltz’ writings, which include Jewish philosophy, kabbalah and hassidut. Most of the new notes in the tractate have their roots in this perceived need.

As Chaim Katz writes, many of the new notes are from classical commentaries on the aggadic portions of Gemara. While it is correct that the vast majority of the original Hebrew notes in Berakhot are from classical sources, there are some contemporary scholars referred to in those notes (e.g., 28b, where Rav Isaac HaLevi Herzog is brought alongside Rav Sa’adia Ga’on and others in explaining why Rabban Yohanan ben Zakkai perceived that King Hezekiah was coming to escort him to the next world).

In consultation with Rav Steinsaltz – who was involved in several other projects and was unable to turn his attention to writing a new commentary on these sections of Berakhot – I suggested Rav Kook’s Ein Aya as an approach that would dovetail nicely with Rav Steinsaltz’ own writings and an ideal source for the kind of ideas that would enhance the study of the tractate, both on their own merits and by introducing an important thinker to the English reading public. Previously, the Ein Aya had changed my personal experience when I taught Berakhot, inasmuch as contemporary questions on aggadic portions of the Gemara that go undiscussed by the classic commentaries are given voice by Rav Kook. Studying this work, choosing which pieces would engage the contemporary English reader, and distilling them into concise prose for inclusion in the new volume, was a challenging labor of love. As Chaim Katz notes, the Ein Aya is considerably longer than standard commentaries. Furthermore, Rav Kook’s language is difficult and often obscure. I will leave it to the reader to decide whether I succeeded in capturing and conveying Rav Kook’s ideas accurately in the limited space available.

After almost 20 years of working on various Steinsaltz-related Talmud projects efforts, this is a fitting time for me to express my appreciation to Rav Adin Steinsaltz and to Rav Meni Even-Yisrael for having been given the opportunity to play a role in fulfilling Rav Steinsaltz’ vision of spreading Torah to as wide a spectrum of Jews as possible.

Rabbi Dr. Shalom Berger szberger@gmail.com served as Senior Content Editor for the Koren Talmud Bavli project. He is now involved in developing English language educational programming for Herzog College’s Tanakh department.

Cemeteries and Response to Criticism

Marc B. Shapiro

In my last post here I said that when it is safe, I will go to Baghdad to visit the grave of the Ben Ish Hai. I cannot find a picture of the Ben Ish Hai’s grave online, but you can see it in R. Yaakov Moshe Hillel’s beautifully produced recent book, Ben Ish Hai, p. 337. However, this is from the old cemetery in Baghdad, and because of a government order the remains in this cemetery were moved in the early 1960s. So it remains to be seen if the grave can now be located.[1] R. Hillel, p. 336 n. 480, claims that the precise location cannot be identified.

כיום, לא ניתן לזהות את קבריהם, בשל תנאי אקלים קשים השוררים בבבל אשר גרמו להתפוררות המצבות, ומחוסר רישום מדוייק של חלקות הקבורה.

Yet until we can go in and actually examine the spot, we cannot be certain if this is the case. There have been other examples of graves thought to have been lost, which have then been found. The best-known example is the grave of R. Israel Salanter, which was only located twenty years ago.[2]

While there is no doubt that the Ben Ish Hai was buried in Baghdad, there is also a tombstone for him on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem.

According to a famous story, which is also told on the tombstone, the Ben Ish Hai’s body was not only magically transferred to Jerusalem on the day he died, but the grave-digger testified to burying him on the Mount of Olives and wanted payment for his labor.[3] I guess we can say that the Ben Ish Hai was buried three times: twice in Baghdad and once in Jerusalem.

It is hard to know whether the entire story of the burial in Jerusalem is a legend, or if there actually was a grave digger who figured out a way to make some money and invented the story to get paid for digging the grave. Assuming the latter is the case, the grave digger must have known his crowd, that not only would they be inclined to believe such a story, but that they would also not think of actually confirming the story by digging up the grave. Truth be told, it would have to be a very fearless grave digger to leave the grave empty, because one never knows if it will be opened, so it is possible that some unknown person is actually found beneath the tombstone. It is also possible that the grave digger did not have any bad intent, but just had a very vivid imagination. In any case, it is fascinating that such a tombstone exists in the most special Jewish cemetery, and even more incredible that there are people who actually believe that the Ben Ish Hai is buried there.

Supposedly, the Ben Ish Hai’s tombstone on the Mount of Olives is the only one that is standing upright, as all others are horizontal. (Maybe someone in Jerusalem can confirm this.) It is worth noting that R. Yitzhak Kaduri paid the grave in Jerusalem no mind, and even joked about it.[4] R. Shmuel Eliyahu has stated that while the Ben Ish Hai is buried in Baghdad, his spirit came to Jerusalem.[5]

Similar to the story with the Ben Ish Hai’s burial place, R. Abraham Joshua of Apt is buried in Medzhybizh, near the Baal Shem Tov’s grave, but there is a legend that angels carried his body to Tiberias, and there is a stone marking his grave there as well.[6]

This last summer I was in Marrakech, Morocco. In the local Jewish cemetery, R. Jacob Timsut is buried. Yet, “one month after the deceased rabbi was buried in Marrakech, a letter arrived from Jerusalem announcing the marvelous appearance of a tombstone with the name of Rabbi Ya’aqov Timsut in the well-known cemetery on the Mount of Olives.”[7] So once again, you can visit the tzaddik’s grave in its original spot or in Jerusalem.

Regarding tombstones even though the deceased is not buried there, I must call attention to the fascinating comments of R. Hayyim Nathan Dembitzer (1820-1892). R. Dembitzer was a dayan in Cracow and author of the responsa volume Torat Hen. Yet his claim to fame is his historical writings. As a real historian, he was prepared to accept the truth from where it came, and it is significant that in his work Mikhtevei Bikoret (Cracow, 1892), he included correspondence with Heinrich Graetz. Here is the title page and the first two pages of this book.

 

Look at how respectfully he refers to Graetz, which is the sort of thing that would have driven R. Samson Raphael Hirsch and R. Esriel Hildesheimer crazy.

Dembitzer’s respectful scholarly interactions with Graetz, in which he did not let religious differences interfere, is parallel to how certain important rabbinic figures related respectfully to Louis Ginzberg. I dealt with this matter in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox, and it has also recently been discussed by R. Moshe Maimon.[8] Interestingly, in Mikhtevei Bikoret R. Dembitzer also includes correspondence with Nachum Sokolow.

Dembitzer’s two-volume Kelilat Yofi is focused on the rabbis of Lvov as well as other Polish rabbis, and is essential for anyone doing research on the Polish rabbinate. In this work, vol. 1 p. 41a, he mentions that Elyakim Carmoly had written that in earlier years in Lvov they would place tombstones in the cemetery for the deceased scholars of the city even if they had died and were buried elsewhere.

Dembitzer does not give an exact reference for Carmoly, only mentioning that his comment is in Ha-Karmel. Fortunately, I was able to find Carmoly’s article and it appears in Ha-Karmel, April 17, 1867, p. 302. Carmoly’s has two proofs for his contention. The first proof is that in R. Gavriel ben Naftali Hertz’s Matzevat Kodesh (Lemberg 1864), vol. 2, in the second half of the book (there is no pagination here), we find the following tombstone for R. Elijah Kalmankash, who served as rav of Lvov.

The tombstone explicitly states:

.וישכב עם אבותיו ויקבר במקום קבר אביו ולא ידע איש את קבורתו עד היום הזה

This is a clear proof that at least for this rabbi, a tombstone was placed in the ground even though he was not buried there.

Carmoly also notes, as his second proof, that in Matzevat Kodesh, vol. 2, p. 22a, it records, from the Lvov cemetery the text of the tombstone of R. Petahiah, son of R. David Lida who was rav of Amsterdam. His date of death is given as 1721. Here is the text of the tombstone as recorded in Matzevat Kodesh.

(Following R. Petahiah’s tombstone, Matzevat Kodesh records the tombstones of another son and son-in-law of R. Lida.) However, Carmoly tells us that we know that R. Petahiah died and was buried in Frankfurt. R. Markus Horowitz in his Avnei Zikaron (Frankfurt, 1901), p. 290 (no. 2712), published many years after Carmoly’s article, records the text of his tombstone as follows.

As you can see, the date of death is 1751, thirty years later than the date given on the tombstone in Lvov. In other similar cases, I would say that we are dealing with two different people, but the specificity of the tombstone texts makes it hard to deny that they are both for the same person (and Petahiah was hardly a common name).[9] Carmoly’s conclusion is that the community of Lvov put up a tombstone for R. Petahiah to memorialize him, even though he was buried in Frankfurt. Neither Carmoly nor R. Dembitzer offer an explanation as to why the Lvov tombstone places his death thirty years too soon, but they would probably view this as just a simple error.

Dembitzer not only agrees with Carmoly in the case of R. Petahiah, but offers another example of this phenomenon. R. Zvi Hirsch ben Zekhariah Mendel had served as rav in Lvov, but later he was rav in Lublin and died there around 1700. However, there was a tombstone for him in Lvov which gave his date of death at 1655. R. Dembitzer does not explain the discrepancy of the dates of death, and presumably he would say that when the tombstone was put up in Lvov to honor the deceased former rav of the city (who was not buried there), they simply got the date of death wrong. Interestingly, Shlomo Tal accepted the statements of Carmoly and R. Dembitzer, and in summarizing their position speaks of “many fictitious tombstones.”[10]

Dembitzer also makes the astounding assertion that there are graves in the Lvov cemetery for rabbis who never existed! His proof is that there is a tombstone for a Rabbi Eliezer ben Moshe ha-Kohen Proops (פרופס), who is said to have been av beit din in Amsterdam before he came to Lvov. Yet R. Dembitzer states that no such person was av beit din in Amsterdam, and we thus see that the people who made the tombstones did so for rabbis who never existed![11]

כי גם זאת לפנים בלבוב, להקים ג”כ מצבות אבנים ולחקוק עליהם שמות חכמי ישראל אשר לא מתו ולא נקברו לא בלבוב, וגם לא במקומות אחרים, יען כי לא היו ולא נבראו ולא באו עוד לעולם . . . ומי לידינו יתקע אם לא עשו זכרונות במצבות אבנים כאלה גם לשאר גאונים אשר בדו מלבם וקראו בשמותם עלי אדמה, וקבעו גם כן זמן לפטירתם

This is a very strange assertion, and even if it is correct, it refers to one case only, while R. Dembitzer uses it to make a generalization. The only one I know who took note of R. Dembitzer’s assertions was R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira in a letter to R. Leopold Greenwald.[12] R. Shapira rejects R. Dembitzer’s claim in a very sharp tone.

ולא יאומן כי יסופר כי מרב גדול בתורה יצאו דברי הבל כאלו אשר כל השומע ויודע יצחק להם, ליתן מצבות ומקום בעד אותן שאינם נקברים שם ולכתוב שקר גמור “פ”נ” על להד”ם ולהשחית הקרקע שלא נקברו שם אין כדאי להטפל בדברי ריק כאלו. ואם בשביל קושיות שמצאו כמו ב’ מצבות כמו שני יוסף בן שמעון בשתי עיירות כלומר בתי קברות הנה שערי תירוצים לא ננעלו ונמצאו באמת שנים ששמותיהן שוות או לא העתיקו המצבות במקום אחד כראוי

Shapira makes the obvious point that two people with the same name can be buried in different cemeteries without them being the same person. However, this does not explain how there can be two tombstones for R. Petahiah, the son of R. David Lida, or how there can be a tombstone for another rabbi in the Lvov cemetery when we know that he was buried elsewhere.

Regarding what we have discussed, I would only add that in the new Jewish cemetery in Vienna (the same one that R. Israel Friedman, the Chortkover Rebbe, is buried in), there is a tombstone for three members of the Chevra Kadisha who perished in the Holocaust. While it looks like a normal grave, none of the three men mentioned on the tombstone are actually buried there.[13] Here is the tombstone.

I owe this information and the picture to Dr. Tim Corbett, whose book on the Jewish cemeteries of Vienna will hopefully soon be published.

Since I just mentioned R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, let me mention something else he says that is fascinating. In the past two posts I discussed apostate rabbis. It is bad enough when an average person apostatizes, but for a rabbi to do so could have had terrible consequences on the community in that it could lead to many weak of heart to follow. Can anyone imagine, however, someone apostatizing as an act of teshuvah? It sounds crazy, but R. Shapira reported that he had it by tradition that such an incident happened in medieval times.[14]

The story he tells is that there was a popular preacher who in his public talks inserted all sorts of heretical ideas. After he was rebuked by one of the rabbis for preaching his heresies, the man confessed his sins and asked what he should do to repent. The rabbi told him that his repentance would not help, as for years he has gone from place to place spreading his heresy. How could he possibly repent for this? The rabbi said that what he must do is convert to Christianity. The Jewish world would then hear about this and this would remove the legitimacy from any of his sermons, as people would assume that even before his apostasy he was a heretic. Only by doing this could he destroy the impact he made with his earlier sermons.

Let me mention one final responsum for now. In the eighteenth century, R. Elijah Israel of Rhodes dealt with the case of someone who converted to Islam in Izmir, and then wished to come to Rhodes in order to return to Judaism.[15] Practicing Judaism after converting to Islam was illegal, and could endanger everyone in the community. The man was therefore warned not to come to Rhodes, where Muslim merchants might recognize him, but he ignored this warning. Making matters worse, the man had already once before converted to Islam and reverted to Judaism, meaning that there was no way that the Jewish community could have any dealings with him.

Israel permitted letting the authorities know about this man, as he was regarded as a danger to the community. The punishment for his “crime” of leaving Islam would have been severe and could even have included the death penalty, but R. Israel allowed informing the authorities as the man had the status of a rodef. He writes:

מי שמסכן רבים כגון שעוסק בזיופים במקום שהמלכיות מקפידות דינו כרודף ומותר למוסרו למלכות ע”כ וכ”ש וק”ו במי שהמיר דת ורוצה לחזור לדתו שההקפדה היא גדולה שהוא בזוי גדול לדעתם פן תצא כאש חמתם ח”ו ובערם ואין מכבה שמותר למוסרו כדי להציל את ישראל

* * * * * *

In the most recent issue of Dialogue 8 (2019), pp. 35-83, Rabbi Herschel Grossman published a lengthy review of my Limits of Orthodox Theology.[16] Normally I, like any author, would be very happy that so many years after a book’s appearance people are still interested in examining it and engaging with its arguments. Unfortunately, that is not the case with the present review which, it must be said, is nothing less than slanderous. Had the author taken issue with my interpretation of texts and shown why I am mistaken, this would have been a fine way to approach the book. It could be that I would even acknowledge that in some cases his understanding is preferable to mine. As readers of this blog know, I am perfectly willing to acknowledge when I have erred and am happy to credit those who called my attention to these errors. This is how scholarship is supposed to work, and anyone who writes, especially someone who writes a great deal using lots of different sources, will sometimes make a mistake. I myself have called attention to my own errors, without anyone prompting me, as I think it is important for all of us to be as exacting as we can.

However, this is not what the review is about, or, I should say, not what it is mainly about. In future posts I will come to the issue about how to interpret specific texts (and I will defend my readings), but first I must explain why I said that the review is slanderous. It is because Grossman accuses me of saying things that I never said, and throughout he misunderstands the purpose of the book, and of academic Jewish studies as a whole. In general, it is obvious from the review that although Grossman has never met me or even spoken to me, and I have never done him any wrong, he sees me as an enemy that he has to destroy.[17] With such a preconceived notion, it is no wonder that he comes to such incorrect conclusions as to what I am trying to say, and can write a review that is so mean-spirited and dripping with contempt. Based on e-mail correspondence with readers, I do not believe that anyone who has read the book will be taken in by the review’s distortions. However, those who haven’t read the book will probably come away with a false understanding, so it is important to clear this matter up before getting to any arguments over how to interpret particular sources.

Before going through the article itself, let’s look at the end where Grossman says that the book “falls short of its promise to prove that the Rambam was wrong in presenting his Principles as central to Judaism” (p. 83). I think everyone who has read the book knows that of all the things I try to do, one thing I do not do, and indeed it would have been incomprehensible to even imagine such a task, is attempt to prove that the Rambam was wrong. Even if I were a theologian, which I am not, I could not imagine myself ever trying to prove the Rambam (or R. Bahya, R. Saadiah, Ibn Ezra, etc. etc.) wrong. This is simply not how I operate.

The notion that I attempted to prove the Rambam wrong is so far from what I was trying to do in the book, that as mentioned, I don’t believe that anyone who actually read the book, or any of the other reviews, would have concluded as such. What they would have seen is that I try to show that the Rambam’s principles were disputed by others, and thus did not receive complete acceptance. I try to prove this point, but this is very different than trying to “prove that the Rambam was wrong.”

I don’t even know how one would be able to prove the Rambam, or any other Jewish thinker, “right or wrong” on theological matters. Is it possible to “prove” that creation was ex nihilo or from pre-existent matter, or can we ever “prove” that prayers should not be addressed to angels? Today, unlike in medieval times, most of us assume that by their very nature, theological discussions are not subject to “proof”. The most one can do is try to show which position makes more logical sense and is in line with biblical and rabbinic teachings.[18]

In his conclusion, Grossman also writes, in opposition to my supposed error, “that the Rambam’s Principles of Judaism remain the correct affirmation of Jewish belief.” Again, this sentence has nothing to do with my book, as it assumes that I claimed that the Rambam’s principles are incorrect. Had he understood what the book is about, and he wished to dispute with me, he would instead have written “that the Rambam’s Principles of Judaism are the generally accepted [or: halakhically binding, or: rabbinically sanctioned, etc.] affirmation of Jewish belief.”

Let us now start at the beginning. Grossman begins his review—and I will be going through it page by page responding to his attacks—by stating that “the academic approach to matters of Torah learning is radically different from that of the talmid chochom” (p. 36). This is an incorrect statement, as many followers of the academic approach are themselves talmidei hakhamim. What Grossman should have written is that the academic approach is different than the traditional approach. With regard to academic works, Grossman states: “Many of the conclusions of these works are at variance with accepted Torah teachings” (p. 35). No doubt that this is a true statement, but of course, the issue we will have to get into is what is the definition of “accepted Torah teachings.” As all readers of this blog are aware, R. Natan Slifkin’s books were banned because they were seen to be at variance with “accepted Torah teachings,” so the fundamental issue will be which teachings are supposedly accepted.

Grossman writes as follows in explaining the difference between a traditional Torah scholar and an academic scholar:

[For] the talmid chochom, a difficulty in the words of the authority creates a challenge for him to discover the true meaning of the authority. For many academics, a difficulty is proof that the authority is wrong (p. 36).

Grossman identifies me as one of the academics who try to show that an authority is wrong, so let us see whether this is indeed the case. He begins by stating about my book: “Its thrust is that the Rambam erred in codifying these Principles.” We have already seen this unbelievable distortion in his conclusion, as if one of my goals was to show that the Rambam was mistaken.

Grossman further states that “while some earlier scholars have disputed whether some of the Principles deserve to be listed as basic to Judaism . . . all have conceded that the tenets expressed by the Principles are correct” (p. 36). This statement is grossly inaccurate, as virtually every page of my book demonstrates (and in various blog posts I have also cited numerous authorities who disagree with certain of Maimonides’ principles).[19] Even if all of Grossman’s criticisms of particular points of mine are correct (and I will come back to this), it still leaves loads of sources at odds with the Rambam. The sentence is nothing less than shocking, since rather than acknowledging that other authorities disagreed with certain Principles of the Rambam, but claiming that these authorities’ views are to be rejected for one reason for another, Grossman states that “all have conceded” that the Rambam’s views are correct. It is hard to know how to reply to such a statement that completely disregards the truth that everyone can see with their own eyes.

In Limits, p. 26, I quoted the following from R. Bezalel Naor, who was repeating what he heard from R. Shlomo Fisher: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor informed me that R. Fisher made this statement in explaining R. Judah he-Hasid’s view about post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. In other words, R. Judah he-Hasid’s view is not in line with Maimonides’ Principles, but this is not the only such example of Torah sages diverging from the Principles.

Grossman continues by stating that I conclude “that the Rambam’s formulation of the underlying beliefs of Judaism was his own innovation” (pp. 36-37). What does this sentence mean? Apparently, he wants the reader to think that I said that the Rambam just invented his Principles out of thin air, which is of course incorrect as I never said this. If the meaning is that the very notion of a list of doctrines formulated as Principles of Faith, with all that this entails, was the Rambam’s innovation, there is nothing controversial about this at all, and I discuss whether the Rambam was the first to do this and what led him to do so.

Grossman continues: “Even such basic tenets as the belief in God’s unity, or in God’s non-corporeality, says Shapiro, are the Rambam’s own assertions and subject to dispute, with no firm basis in the Torah or in Chazal” (p. 37). I never say that these tenets are the Rambam’s own assertion without any prior basis (as if the Rambam invented these ideas). When it comes to the belief in God’s unity, I state explicitly that no Jewish teacher has ever disputed this (although how they understood God’s “unity” was subject to dispute). As for God’s incorporeality, I will come back to this in greater detail in a later post, where I will also deal with R. Isaiah ben Elijah of Trani’s claim that divine incorporeality is not a principle of faith, as well as Maimonides’ view that in its simple meaning (but only in its simple meaning), the Torah itself teaches God’s corporeality (for the benefit of those people who at the beginning of their studies are not able to understand the profound concept of a deity without form). Since I will then analyze this matter in great detail, I do not want to get into it here. For now, I will simply say that in the book I discussed whether divine incorporeality was accepted by all Jews at all times, and if corporeal views of God can be found in the Talmud (as was stated by R. Isaiah ben Elijah of Trani).

On p. 37 Grossman writes:

Shapiro, who mocks the opinions of Rabbeynu Nissim, R. Moshe Feinstein, Chazon Ish, Arizal, and R. Ya’akov Emden, among others, goes one step beyond Kellner in his belief that he, Shapiro, is better able than Rambam to interpret explicit verses of the Torah (as we shall see below).

This is nothing less than slander since I never, not even once, mock the opinions of any of these great rabbis or anyone else. When I read this sentence, I had no clue what he was talking about, as this is not how I operate, and was shocked when I went to the sources he refers to. Let us look at what Grossman regards as “mocking”.

For my mocking of R. Nissim, he refers the reader to p. 84 in my book where I write that R. Nissim “puts forth the strange and original position that there is one particular angel before whom prostration is permitted.” This is mocking?[20]

For my “mocking” of R. Moshe Feinstein’s opinions he provides three sources.

On p. 101 n. 73, I discuss R. Moshe’s rejection of the authenticity of a passage in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan. I write that R. Moshe’s “rejection of the authenticity of this passage should be viewed as part of his pattern of discarding sources that do not fit in with his understanding. He does so even when the sources are neither contradicted by other writings of the authors involved nor by other versions of the text in question.” Where is the mocking?

On p. 157, I write: “Although R. Moses Feinstein was the greatest posek of his time, he seems to have had no knowledge of Maimonidean philosophy. He was therefore able to state that Maimonides believed in the protective power of holy names and the names of angels, as used in amulets.” Where is the mocking?[21]

The last source where I am said to be mocking R. Moshe’s opinion is p. 159 of my book. Here is the page.

All I do here is cite R. Moshe’s comment about those who oppose kollels by citing the Rambam. I have also seen R. Moshe quoted as saying that it is noteworthy that those who oppose kollels based on the Rambam only adopt this one “humra” of the Rambam. The Rambam has lots of other humrot, yet people don’t adopt these stringencies. They only want to be “mahmir” in accordance with the Rambam so as not to support kollels. To say that I am mocking R. Moshe’s opinion is not only slander, it is completely incomprehensible.

Regarding the Hazon Ish, Grossman refers to p. 17. On this page I mention the views of many who held that the Thirteen Principles are the fundamentals of Judaism, and I include a passage from the Hazon Ish. I don’t see any mocking.[22] He also refers to p. 65 n. 124, where I mention a number of sages, including the Hazon Ish, who say that the Rambam’s view that belief in divine corporeality is heresy (Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7) does not refer to someone who does not know any better, and thus the Rambam is not in dispute with Rabad who criticizes the Rambam on precisely this point. In response to those authorities who made this argument, I wrote: “They obviously never saw Guide I, 36, cited above, p. 48.” In this source, Maimonides specifically rejects the notion argued by the Hazon Ish and others that Maimonides is not speaking of the person who does not know any better. In fact, R. Kafih goes so far as to say, in his commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, that Maimonides saw Rabad’s comment and Guide 1:36 was written specifically in response to it, in order that people not assume that Rabad’s position can be regarded as theologically sound.

Regarding R. Isaac Luria, Grossman points to p. 90, where I write:

Finally, I must mention R. Isaac Luria’s view that Moses’ understanding of divine matters was inferior to that of certain kabbalists (including himself!). This notion is elaborated upon by R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady (1745-1813), who asks, “’How did Rabbi Isaac Luria, of blessed memory, apprehend more than he, and expound many themes dealing with the highest and most profound levels [penimiyut], even of many Sefirot.”

Again, I don’t know where there is any mocking. Incidentally, a reader has made a very good case that I am incorrect, and R. Isaac Luria and R. Shneur Zalman should not be cited as opposing Maimonides’ principle. In a future post, I will present this argument, which R. Chaim Rapoport told me he agrees with.

Regarding R. Emden, Grossman refers the reader to p. 16 n. 63. Nowhere in this note do I mock an opinion of R. Emden. What I do say is that his sexuality was complex. In retrospect, I regret including this comment, since it is not really relevant to the matter at hand. Yet there is no question that when it comes to sexual matters, there is something very much out of the ordinary, especially for rabbinic greats, in how R. Emden writes about these things. This is something that I believe is acknowledged by everyone who has studied R. Emden’s writings, including the most haredi among us, even if they won’t put such statements in writing. Mortimer Cohen, in his book on R. Emden, famously pointed to sexuality to explain how R. Emden could have attacked R. Eybeschütz the way he did, with such outrageous accusations. Still, I believe that Jacob J. Schacter is correct when he states: “[W]hile it is clear that Emden had a complex and contentious personality, all this emphasis on his sexuality is really irrelevant to his attack on Eybeschütz.”[23] I for one am not comfortable with psychological interpretations, even if in this case such an interpretation can be used as a limud zekhut for some of the shocking things R. Emden says, and if I was writing the book now I would leave out the passage mentioned above. Yet where is the mocking? The only mocking I see is how Grossman continuously mocks me.

Grossman writes: “Shapiro does not refrain from adducing explicit Talmudic passages as contradictions to the Rambam, presuming that the Rambam overlooked or ignored them, something which innumerable Talmudic scholars in past centuries have considered inconceivable” (pp. 37-38). In the book I never say that the Rambam overlooked talmudic passages. I do say that he did not accept the outlook of every talmudic passage (which Grossman terms, “ignored them”). The Rambam famously held that not every passage in the non-halakhic sections of the Talmud is binding.

Grossman continues:

Shapiro is unimpressed by all these arguments; nor is he averse to dismissing Rambam’s opinion based on his, Shapiro’s, own reading of a Talmudic passage, even where there is no doubt that the Rambam had a different reading for it. An academic, he obviously feels, is privileged to interpret the Talmud better than the Rambam was [!], even where this presumption leads to bizarre conclusions (p. 38).

The only thing that is bizarre here is Grossman’s statement, for I can assure everyone that in the book I do not engage in talmudic debate with the Rambam, dismiss the Rambam’s opinion, and think that I am able to interpret the Talmud better than the Rambam. If someone offers, say, a new interpretation of a talmudic passage, does this mean he thinks he can interpret the Talmud better than Rashi or the Rambam?

Another false statement is found on p. 38 where Grossman states: “Although he is to be commended for the amount of research he has invested into his work—the citations he has amassed are voluminous—it seems that many of the references were culled from secondary sources without examining the originals.” I can state with absolute certainty—and other than Grossman, I don’t think anyone else has ever raised such an accusation of scholarly malpractice—that I have examined every original source cited in the book. Not only that, but I have examined every source in every book I have published and in every blog post. I have never cited a source that I have not examined “inside” unless I indicate so. This does not mean that I have never misinterpreted a source, and in subsequent posts I will examine some examples where Grossman offers a different reading. But for now, suffice it to say that it is nothing less than slander to state that I included sources in the book that I did not examine myself (and this, by the way, was before the existence of the various digital databases. Librarians at JTS and YU can remember me as I was constantly there during the time I was writing the book.)

The final point for now is Grossman’s conclusion of the first part of his review:

To analyze the errors in this book would require a book in itself, nor is this the purpose of this article. The purpose is to show the lack of basis for Shapiro’s assertions (1) that the Rambam’s Principles have no basis in Talmudic literature; (2) that he created these Principles either to advance his philosophic conclusions or for polemic purposes; and (3) that many authorities thought the Principles “were wrong, pure and simple” (p. 38).

Point 1 is incorrect. I never state that the Rambam’s Principles have no basis in talmudic literature. Every single one of the Principles can find support in the Talmud (even if others might disagree with how to interpret the talmudic passages), and I cite examples of this in the book. What I do say is that the concept of Principles of Faith put forth by Maimonides, that one can commit endless sins but if he believes in the Principles he is still a Jew in good standing (albeit a sinning Jew) with a share in the World to Come, and if he denies or doubts even one of the Principles, even if he did not know any better and even if he fulfilled all the mitzvot, he does not have a share in the World to Come, such a concept is not found in talmudic literature. I am hardly the first to say this. Many of the Rambam’s rabbinic critics made this point, and as far as I know, all of the academic scholars who have studied the Rambam have said likewise. Furthermore, even if there are talmudic sources for the substance of Rambam’s Principles, this does not mean that there is compelling talmudic sources to explain why the Rambam categorized these particular beliefs as Principles, denial of which is heresy. Often, we must look to his philosophical assumptions, which he regarded as part and parcel of Torah, to explain why he raised certain beliefs to the level of Principles while others did not. We must also look to his philosophical assumptions to understand why he read certain talmudic passages the way he did, and was thus led to formulate his Principles in a certain fashion.

I would also like readers to examine the following statement by the rabbinic scholar, R. Reuven Amar.[24] Based on what Grossman writes, I assume that he will regard this as equally blasphemous to anything I have written.

דאם כי ודאי אין חכמת הרמב”ם ז”ל כשאר בעלי החכמה ובעלי הדעה וגדולה חכמתו ושיעור קומתו ולבו רחב כאולם בכל חכמה ומדע מ”מ בעיקרי האמונה אין דבריו כמפי הגבורה אחר שלא קיבלם איש מפי איש עד משה רבינו ע”ה כי אם משיקול דעתו ובינתו וכפי שהודה וכתב בעצמו בהקדמת ח”ג מהמורה נבוכים, בענין מעשה המרכבה ומעשה בראשית ועיין בזה במגדל עוז פ”א מיסודי התורה ה”י וכן ראיתי בספר שומר אמונים (להרב ר’ יוסף אירגס זצ”ל) בויכוח ראשון סעיף ח’ ט’ שהתבסס על זה

Regarding point 2, Grossman sees it as problematic to say that the Rambam created the Principles to advance his philosophical conclusions. Yet this is a perfectly reasonable approach. After all, wouldn’t the Rambam want the Jewish people to hold philosophical truths, and what better way to achieve this than to put these truths in the form of Principles of Faith that everyone has to know? This approach is commonly held among scholars of the Rambam. As for the accusation that I say that the Rambam created the Principles for polemical purposes, I never say that with regard to the Principles as a whole. I do say this about aspects of two of the Principles, and I will return to this in a future post. The fact that I am being attacked on this matter is ironic, as my approach is actually more conservative than what is found in almost all works of modern scholarship on the Rambam.

As for point 3, I do not say that “many authorities thought the Principles” were wrong. What I do say is that many authorities thought that individual Principles were mistaken. By writing “the Principles,” Grossman leads readers to think that I said that many authorities rejected the Principles in their entirety, but all readers of my book know that this is not the case.[25]

I want to conclude with the following from R. Mordechai Willig, which has some relevance to my discussion and which I think readers will find of interest.[26] R. Willig’s entire shiur is worth listening to, but for the purpose of this post I only want to cite one small section.

As we know, not all the Ikrei Emunah were etched in stone without any dispute from the beginning of time. . . . Are in fact the Rambam’s Thirteen Principles accepted le-halakhah for the last X hundred of years and you can’t go against it, or perhaps not? There are those therefore who are trying to get around certain of his Ikrim. The Sefer of Albo himself who wrote the Sefer Ikrim didn’t accept all the Thirteen of the Rambam. One might argue that we don’t really find anywhere to my knowledge significant dispute about the other Ikrim of the Rambam, but perhaps not all Thirteen were accepted, but we’ll call [it] Twelve and a Half. The first part of Ikkar number 5 was accepted, and the second part which is so complex, perhaps it never really was accepted. So there are Thirteen Principles but one of them, number 5, we only accept part of the Principle, not the entirety of the Principle. . . . It’s against the Rambam, but this half of that Principle was never accepted. But the rest was accepted.

In the next post I will continue with my response (and it looks like it will take many posts before I am finished, unless I first tire of this endeavor).

---

[1] Sipurim me-ha-Hayyim: Kitzur Shivhei ha-Ben Ish Hai (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 47.
[2] See here.
[3] See e.g., here.
[4] See R. Kaduri, Divrei Yitzhak, pp. 173-174.
[5] See here.
[6] See here.
[7] Yorma Bilu, Saints’ Impresarios: Dreamers, Healers, and Holy Men in Israel’s Urban Periphery, trans. Haim Watzman (Brighton, MA, 2010), p. 65.
[8] “Perek be-Hithavut ha-‘Olam ha-Torah’ be-Artzot ha-Berit le-Ahar ha-Milhamah,” Hakirah 26 (2019), pp. 31-52.
[9] See, however, Solomon Buber, Anshei Shem (Crakow, 1895), pp. 28-29, who is skeptical.
[10] Peri Hayyim (Tel Aviv, 1983), p. 149.
[11] Kelilat Yofi, pp. 41a-b. See also Buber, Anshei Shem, p. 32.
[12] Greenwald, Otzar Nehmad, p. 117.
[13] There is also a section of this cemetery where hundreds of Christians are buried. The Nazis refused to allow these people to be buried elsewhere as under the Nuremberg Laws they were regarded as Jewish (and halakhically, some of these people would indeed have been Jewish).
[14] Shapira, Divrei Torah, vol. 5, no. 27.
[15] Ugat Eliyahu (Livorno, 1730), no. 22
[16] Limits appeared in 2004. I wonder if it is only very negative reviews that come out so long after a book’s appearance. Another example is Haym Soloveitchik’s review of Isadore Twersky’s revised edition of Rabad of Posquiéres. The book appeared in 1980 and the review appeared in 1991. See Soloveitchik, “History of Halakhah – Methodological Issues: A Review essay of I. Twersky’s Rabad of Posquiéres,” Jewish History 5 (Spring 1991), pp. 75-124.
[17] Grossman did correspond with me and ask me questions which I tried to the best of my ability to answer. He also challenged some of what I said in his emails to me. Yet I have to say that I am quite hurt that he was not honest with me in this correspondence. On July 16, 2018, he began his correspondence with me by telling me that he was writing an article on the Thirteen Principles. In this email he also said that my book was well-written. (Buttering me up, I guess.) On July 17 he wrote to me: “Thank you for your communication! You are helping me tremendously.” I guess I was helping him to bury me. Also on this day he wrote to me about his article: “maybe you can help me with the writing!” I am sorry to see now that this was all part of a grand deception on his part.

In his email to me of October 11, 2018, Grossman wrote that he completed his article on the Thirteen Principles, “and have cited you in a few places.” Is this how an honest scholar operates, by deceiving the person he has been emailing with? I responded to his questions and explained how I view things, as I do with anyone who contacts me. I would have done the same thing had he been honest with me and told me that he was writing an article devoted to disputing my ideas. His friendly demeanor in his emails led me to assume that we were engaged in a form of scholarly collaboration in trying to understand important texts and ideas. So imagine my surprise to see that contrary to what he wrote to me that he cited me “in a few places,” the entire review is an attempt to tear me down. Furthermore, Grossman has been telling people that he wants his article to destroy my reputation as a scholar. What type of person treats his fellow Jew in this fashion?
[18] In a wide-ranging article which deals among other things with R. Kook’s view of heresy, the important scholar R Yoel Bin-Nun explains why R. Kook rejected the Rambam’s approach to heresy. R. Bin Nun also states that if you take what the Rambam says seriously, the Rambam himself, if he were alive today and saw how theological matters are no longer regarded as subject to conclusive proofs, would not regard people who disagreed with his Principles as heretics. In R. Bin Nun’s words (emphasis added):

שיטת הרמב”ם ברורה: יסוד שתלוי באמונה, ואין בו הוכחה שכלית, וכל החכמים מתווכים עליו, אי אפשר להגדיר את מי שאינו מאמין בו כ”כופר” או כ”מין”. עצם העובדה שהדבר נתון בוויכוח שכלי בין החכמים מאפשר ומחייב לבנות את עולם האמונה, אך אינו מאפשר לשפוט ולדון את הכופרים. רק ודאות שכלית מוחלטת מאפשרת לדון אדם כמזיד בשאלות של אמונה וידיעה

“Kahal Shogeg u-Mi she-Hezkato Shogeg o To’eh: Hiloniyim ve-Hiloniyut be-Halakhah,” Akdamot 10 (2000), p. 263.

In other words, according to R. Bin-Nun, based on the Rambam himself there is no justification today for calling people heretics because they reject one (or more) of the Thirteen Principles. (When he refers to hakhamim disputing matters, he is not referring to Torah scholars, but the general scientific-intellectual world.) Whether R. Bin Nun is correct in his analysis of the Rambam is not my purpose at present (and I do not find his position compelling). I only wish to show that this outstanding scholar presents a very tolerant view, one that rejects the Thirteen Principles as determining who is a heretic. I wonder, though, how far he would take this. Lots of scientists and philosophers argue for atheism, and there is no absolute proof for God’s existence. Does this mean that now even atheists are not to be regarded as heretics?
[19] For one example, R. Pinhas Lintop, see here. I write as follows in this post:

Naor calls attention to R. Lintop’s view of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles. Unfortunately, I did not know of this when I wrote my book on the subject. R. Lintop is no fan of Maimonides’ concept of dogma or of Maimonides’ intellectualism in general. He rejects the notion that otherwise pious Jews can be condemned as heretics merely because they don’t accept Maimonides’ principles. He even makes the incredible statement that of the great rabbis, virtually all of them have, at the very least, been in doubt about one fundamental principle.

הנה לא הניח בן לאברהם . . . כמעט אין אחד מראשי חכמינו, החכמים הצדיקים כו’ כו’, אשר לא יטעה או יסתפק באחד משרשי הדת

Are we to regard them all as heretics? Obviously not, which in R. Lintop’s mind shows the futility of Maimonides’ theological exercise, which not only turned Judaism into a religion of catechism, but also indoctrinated people to believe that one who does not affirm certain dogmas is to be persecuted. According to R. Lintop, this is a complete divergence from the talmudic perspective.

Lintop further states that there is no point in dealing with supposed principles of faith that are not explicit in the Talmud.

הגידה נא, אחי, בלא משוא פנים, היש לנו עוד פנים לדון על דבר עקרים ויסודות את אשר לא נזכרו לנו בהדיא במשנה וגמרא?

As for Maimonides’ view that one who is mistaken when it comes to principles of faith is worse than one who actually commits even the worst sins, R. Lintop declares that “this view is very foreign to the spirit of the sages of the Talmud, who did not know philosophy.” As is to be expected, he also cites Rabad’s comment that people greater than Maimonides were mistaken when it came to the matter of God’s incorporeality.

[20] In R. Meir Mazuz’s recent Bayit Ne’eman, no. 196 (13 Shevat 5780), p. 2, he writes about the Ralbag:

וזו הסיבה שרלב”ג פירש דברים מוזרים

Does this mean that R. Mazuz was mocking Ralbag? R. Joseph Zechariah Stern writes (Zekher Yehosef, Even ha-Ezer, no. 61, p. 237):

ועיקר דברי חוט השני הוא נגד סוגיא דעלמא . . . ואשר בכלל דבריו זרים

Was R. Stern mocking anyone?

Eliezer Waldenberg writes about R. Abraham Halevi, author of Ginat Veradim (Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 8, no. 15, p. 80):

כי בתוך דברי התשובה שם וכן בתוך דברי התשובה שלפניה יש שם ג”כ דבריו [!] מוזרים מאד שכמעט קשה לשומעם

Was R. Waldenberg mocking anyone? And what about when rabbis use even harsher language, saying things like אינו נכון כלל? Does this mean that they are mocking the view they are rejecting? Everyone who studies rabbinic literature knows that nothing could be further from the truth. Stating that a view is strange or unusual, and even rejecting a view in harsh terms, has nothing to do with mocking.
[21] That rabbinic scholars often do not study Maimonides’ philosophy is nothing new. R. Jacob Emden noted that if the rabbinic scholars knew philosophy, they would have protested Maimonides’ proof for God’s existence in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 1:5, as it is based on the eternity of the world. See Birat Migdal Oz (Warsaw, 1912), p. 20a:

כי הנה המופת הראשון שעשה ע”ז הדרוש בח”ב מס’ [מספרו] הנ”ל מתנועה נצחית תדיר’ (והיא שמצאה חן בעיניו והציגה לבדה עמנו פה בס’ המדע) לקוחה מאריסטו מניח הקדמות, לא יודה בה בעל הדת שהיא בנויה על פנת החדוש. לו ידעו הרבנים התלמודיים בפילוסיפיא לא היו שותקים לו בכאן

[22] Perhaps the “mocking” he sees is the beginning of the paragraph where I write:

To return to the point already mentioned above, if there is one thing Orthodox Jews the world over acknowledge, it is that Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles are the fundamentals of Jewish faith. The common knee-jerk reaction is that there is room for debate in matters of faith, as long as one does not contradict any of these principles.

I then cite a number of great figures who speak of the centrality of the Thirteen Principles (including the Hazon Ish). I used the expression “knee-jerk” as synonymous with “instinctive,” but even stronger, in that the reaction to any divergence from the Principles is strong and immediate, coming from a place of feeling which is prior to any intellectual reaction. Needless to say, there is no mocking.

Regarding statements about the centrality of the Thirteen Principles, let me repeat what I have said elsewhere, and which I will return to in future posts, that the expression “the Thirteen Principles” is more of a shorthand statement about correct belief rather than an affirmation of the Principles themselves in all of their particulars. To give an example of what I mean, it is easy to find statements of rabbis stating that one should not engage with ideas or texts that diverge from the Thirteen Principles. This is a shorthand way of saying that you should not study heresy. However, when the rabbis say that you should not study matters that diverge from the Principles, do any of them mean that you should not study Rashi’s commentary to Deuteronomy 34:5, as it presents a talmudic view about the authorship of the final verses of the Torah that is in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle? Certainly not, which shows that what Torah scholars mean when they speak of the “Thirteen Principles” is not necessarily what the masses understand by this.
[23] “Rabbi Jacob Emden: Life and Major Works” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1988)), p. 409.
[24] Re’ah Besamim, p. 40, appendix to his edition of Besamim Rosh (Jerusalem, 1984). Among R. Amar’s other works, mention should be made of his five volume Minhagei ha-Hida.
[25] In Limits, p. 4, I refer to “those scholars who thought that Maimonides’ Principles were wrong.” While in the context of the book, everyone knew that I meant “certain of Maimonides’ Principles” (namely, the ones I discuss), now that I see how the sentence could be misused by being quoted out of context, I wish that I had been more exacting in my language.
[26] See his shiur, “Selichos: Halacha, Hashkafa and Teshuva,” available here, at minute 45:30.