More on R. Kook’s Recently Published Writings

by Marc B. Shapiro

In my post here here I mentioned that R. Kook argued that there is good reason to observe mitzvot even if one does not have a traditional view of the Torah’s authorship. On the one hand, there is nothing surprising in this. After all, would anyone tell a non-Orthodox Jew that it is OK if he eats on Yom Kippur?[1] R. Kook’s originality is therefore not seen in the bottom line, but in the argument he uses.[2] He notes that Maimonides and other medieval greats used arguments that they themselves did not accept in order to make religious points. For example, Maimonides used an argument that assumed the eternity of matter in order to prove the existence of God.[3] This was valuable in that those who accepted the former point would also be forced to acknowledge the latter point, i.e., God’s existence. Only then could he attempt to weaken the belief in eternity. Similarly, R. Kook is prepared to argue for the binding nature of Torah law even on the assumption that it was not given to Moses. This is valuable since, in his day at least, it was the acceptance of biblical criticism that encouraged people to give up the observance of mitzvot. If R. Kook can therefore show that even an acceptance of biblical criticism does not mean that there is no place for mitzvot, it will be a great achievement.[4]

R. Kook notes that traditional Jews observe rabbinic laws and even customs. His point is that these are regarded as valuable and help form the religious personality Yet no one believes that they were given to Moses by God. Why, then, should believers in biblical criticism not feel bound to other laws, which while traditionally seen as from Sinai, can also be regarded as rabbinic or even as customs (“folkways” in Mordecai Kaplan’s language). In other words, the mitzvot should be seen as having value regardless of their origin.

I have to say, however, that the weakness in R. Kook’s argument should be apparent. For those who accept the entire system, it makes sense that on top of the divinely revealed Torah laws, that rabbinic laws and customs are also added. But if one rejects the basis of Torah law, then the other two components simply fall away.

R. Kook picks up with his theme in a later passage.[5] Before dealing with the matter of biblical criticism, he briefly discusses the so-called dispute between science and Torah that caused so much difficulty in his day. In a passage that is very similar to one that appears in his letter to Moshe Seidel,[6] R. Kook explains that the Torah makes use of the “science” of its day, and writes about such matters in a simple and understandable fashion. The Torah makes no attempt at scientific accuracy (which would not have been understandable in earlier days). As R. Uri Sharki, a follower of R. Kook, puts it, the creation story (which contains great secrets) is presented in the language of myth בסגנון המיתי.[7] Most people today who have examined the matter accept this approach, but since the average person does not understand what myth is (seeing it as synonymous with fairy tale or legend), you don’t have a typical Orthodox rabbi using this language in his sermon on parashat Bereshit.

I have discussed this matter in detail in an earlier post here so there is no need to repeat what I have already said. Let me only add that the use of the term “science” in this context is not really accurate. What R. Kook is discussing is the early history of the universe, knowledge of which we have arrived at by means of science. R. Kook is saying that we should not treat the Torah’s descriptions as “history”, as that is not the Torah’s purpose. As I have pointed out in the post mentioned above, I believe that R. Kook’s approach was not only intended to answer problems dealing with the first chapters of Genesis but with any problems that might arise between what historians conclude and what appears to be the peshat in the Torah, e.g., the lifespans recorded in Scripture, the description of the Flood, and the huge number of people who took part in the Exodus, to mention just a few that are often discussed.[8]

Following this matter, R. Kook returns to the issue of Torah mi-Sinai. He states that even if one believes that the Torah was written after Moses or that the text has been corrupted, this does not affect his obligation to observe the mitzvot, since the acceptance of the Torah was dependent on its acceptance by the nation. Therefore, an individual cannot remove himself from this group. This is no different than a host of other matters where we say that an individual cannot choose a separate path from that which was decided by the group.[9]

Regarding the revelation of the Torah, it is important to also cite R. Kook’s words in Shemonah Kevatzim 1:633, about which an entire post could be written. I ask readers to focus carefully on the implications of what he says.

There is denial that is like an affirmation of faith, and an affirmation of faith akin to denial. A person can affirm the doctrine of the Torah coming from “heaven”, but with the meaning of “heaven” so strange that nothing of true faith remains. And a person can deny Torah coming from “heaven” where the denial is based on what the person has absorbed of the meaning of “heaven” from people full of ludicrous thoughts. Such a person believes that the Torah comes from a source higher than that! . . . Although that person may not have reached the point of truth, nonetheless this denial is to be considered akin to an affirmation of faith. . . . “Torah from Heaven” is but an example for all affirmations of faith, regarding the relationship between their expression in language and their inner essence, the latter being the main desideratum of faith.[10]

Since we are speaking about R. Kook, let me also call attention to a few more significant passages in the newly published Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor. I previously referred to this text which a few years ago was somehow illegally placed online. In 2014 R. Shahar Rahmani published the work with notes, and it is to this edition that everyone should now refer. In studying Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor, readers should remember that it was written before R. Kook came to the Land of Israel.

In chapter 13 R. Kook acknowledges that in a future era, when we will have a Sanhedrin, there will be a need for new derashot in halakhah, which will respond to the then current circumstances, something we at present cannot do. In this future era people will no longer be able to complain, as they do now, that the rabbinic obligations are not suitable for the current time. This is an acknowledgment that there are indeed aspects of rabbinic law that should, and will, be changed. But R. Kook falls back on the procedural problem of doing this prematurely, before the mechanism to do so exists (i.e., the Sanhedrin).

I have no reason to assume that R. Kook is speaking about the messianic era, since he does not mention this, instead writing about the “far off future”. Had he intended the messianic era, he would have said so. What this means is that when the Jews are once again dwelling in their land there is a possibility for the revival of a living halakhah, by means of a Sanhedrin which would create derashot. See, e.g., these two sentences, where he responds to suggestions by those living in Europe to alter halakhah. He insists that no changes in halakhah can take place at present, but it is significant that he does not mention the messianic era (and note the positive way he describes the רגש of the advocates of halakhic change). In other words, while haredim push off all such talk to the messianic era, R. Kook is not bound by such conservatism and could imagine halakhic change via a Sanhedrin in the pre-messianic era as well.

אבל הרוצה לדחוק את הקץ, ולהתנהג בדרישות שאנו חייבים ויכולים לקיימן רק בהיותינו בבית חיינו, גם לעת פזורינו ודלדולינו, ופורץ גדר של המרכז הלאומי הנשגב, התלמוד וחתימתו, בשביל קורת רוח של חיי שעה ודרישת אסתתיקא זמנית, הוא מחליף עולם קיים בעולם עובר בכלל האומה ומביא אנדרולומוסיא לעולם

ידעתי אמנם שהדעה הנשאה הזאת תוכל להיות למפגע לקלי דעת החפצים לדחוק את הקץ ורודפים את העתיד הרחוק בלא זמנו, אלה הם השועלים המחבלים, שאף שהרגשתם היא הרגשה רוממה ונעלה, אבל רוחם אינו רוח שוקט הראוי לכל איש ישר היודע את אשר לפניו

The future Sanhedrin will be able not only to overturn talmudic halakhot, but it will also be able uproot Torah laws if it finds it necessary. R. Kook further tells us that if the Sanhedrin is able to change our understanding of a biblical law by means of a derashah, it is not even to be regarded as an “uprooting.” It is by means of derashot that the Sanhedrin would be able to permanently alter the way of Torah observance. Consider for example the matter of women not being accepted as witnesses for certain matters. Rather than using apologetics to explain this to contemporary women, R. Kook’s approach allows people to say that indeed, this can be changed by a future Sanhedrin by means of a new derashah, but that today there can be no change since we do not have the mechanism to do so. The matter is thus turned into a technical problem rather than an ideological one.[11]

R. Kook also elaborates on the idea that the closing of the Talmud was a historical phenomenon brought on by the difficulties of the galut. But the Jewish people only accepted such a closure until the time that they returned to their land and the nation was once again rejuvenated.

Chapter 13 of Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor can stand alone as an essay. It is a very important statement of how R. Kook understood Jewish law, and I hope someone will translate it into English. I think what R. Kook was talking about is the same thing later advocated by R. Eliezer Berkovits, although I am not claiming that R. Kook would have supported Berkovits’ ideas as practical in our time. However, the concept that Berkovits was speaking about, of an Eretz Yisrael halakhah, is exactly what R. Kook had in mind.[12]

If this wasn’t enough, R. Kook has more to say in chapter 13. He discusses how the great stress on Talmud study in recent centuries has brought much that is positive to the Jewish people. However, he also notes the downside of this single-minded focus on Talmud study, a criticism that (for those who accept it) would be even more applicable in our day. He says that this focus on Talmud study has led to a weakness of the body for many students, a point already known from Orot. He also states that the Talmud-only curriculum has led people to be unaware of those secular studies that are indeed essential.[13]

חסרון המדעים הנחוצים לאדם באשר הוא אדם

Most interesting, however, is the additional problem R. Kook sees with the exclusive focus on Talmud study. He says that it has led to ethical problems, problems that arise when people spend their time focused only on halakhic details without seeing the broader picture, that of the heart which cannot be encompassed in halakhic details but only in a broad ethical vision.

וגם חסרונות מוסריים שבאו לרגלי התיחדות העסק השכלי רק בפרטי ודקדוקי הלכות מאין שם לב לרגשי לב והגיוני מוסר כלליים

R. Kook is quick to point out that it is not the study of Talmud per se that is responsible for the problem he mentions, but rather the single-minded focus on Talmud to the exclusion of all else, meaning that there is no room for secular studies, physical exercise, and exposure to the larger ethical teachings of the Torah.

אמנם כל המגרעות האלה לא באו לנו מצד השקידה על למוד התלמוד וקיומו, כי אם מצד ההפרזה הקיצונית על שלא הנחנו מקום לחלקי החינוך האחרים להכשרת החכמות והמדעים, לחוזק הגוף, להרחבת הדעה וההגיון המוסרי שבתורה, שעל זה כבר צוחו גם כן גדולי הדורות, ומקוצר רוח לא היה להם שומע

For good measure R. Kook adds that extremism, be it in actions or beliefs, is always bad for us.

והנטיה הקיצונית היא לעולם מכאבת בנו כל חלקה טובה, הקיצוניות בחינוך ובמעשים וכמו כן הקיצוניות בדעות

I will continue with more from Li-Nevokhei ha-Dor in future posts, but for now I would like to add one more comment about R. Kook. At least one reader is upset that I haven’t focused on R. Kook’s halakhic and talmudic writings, as he thinks that this is the main aspect of R. Kook, while his philosophical writings were only done on the side, as it were. This exact same point has been made with regard to R. Soloveitchik. That is, people have criticized certain academics for portraying the Rav as primarily a philosopher for whom his talmudic studies were a secondary element. In this case the criticism is certainly correct, as when it came to the Rav his talmudic studies were the main focus and it was his philosophical writings that were secondary.

Yet this is not the case when it comes to R. Kook. It is true that he was a great posek, however this was not where his heart was. In his inner essence he was a thinker and kabbalist, not a talmudist or halakhist. This is not just my own speculation. R. Kook himself said as much to both R. Reuven Margaliyot and R. Moshe Zvi Neriyah. Here is what he told R. Neriyah:[14]

שעה שחפץ היה הפילוסוף קנט להנפש מקצת ממחקריו הפילוסיפיים, עסק בגיאוגרפיה. וכך היה אומר: “מחמת שאני איש האבסטרקים, חש אני הרגשת-נופש וחילוף כחות כשאני מעיין בדברים מוצקים כגון: הר, נחל, עיר כפר וכדומה,” אף אני כך – ציין הרב – הרי אני מטבעי איש המחשבה והרגש, אולם בבואי להנפש, אני עוסק בהלכה ואני חש שרגלי עומדות על קרקע מוצק.

R. Kook told R. Margaliyot the same thing:[15]

מטבעי “בעל מחשבות” אנכי ושורש נשמתי היא “המחשבה”, וכשאני זקוק למנוחה והחלפת כוח הנני מתעסק בהלכה.

See also my post here where I discuss R. Kook’s belief that the nitty-gritty of halakhic study can have a negative effect on great people’s spiritual life. 

All that I have just mentioned is far removed from R. Soloveitchik’s understanding of the role of halakhic study and its place in his own spiritual personality.[16]

Based on what I have cited, we can also reject what Hillel Goldberg has written in a generally very positive review of Yehudah Mirsky’s new book on R. Kook.

R. Kook’s status as a major halakhic decisor was not just something added onto an already impressive resume. It was not just one more remarkable thing he did. It was of his essence. And the elevation and illumination it entailed were of a piece with, perhaps even a spur to – certainly not in opposition to – the strivings of his soul.[17]

These are very nice words by Goldberg, but the problem is that they are contradicted by none other than R. Kook himself who denies that halakhic study is “of his essence” and confesses that halakhic study was at times indeed in opposition to “the strivings of his soul.”

In previous posts I have quoted all sorts of amazing passages from R. Kook, and here is another one. It appears in Shemonah Kevatzim 2:34.

At the beginning of the passage R. Kook refers to those special tzaddikim who do not need to learn Torah or pray on a regular basis. (When he speaks of learning Torah he is referring to traditional talmudic learning.) That there are some individuals who are so close to God that they don’t need to learn is not that surprising, as one can find the idea in certain hasidic texts that learning Talmud removes one from devekut with God. Some hasidic texts also state that the tzaddik does not need to heed the proper times of prayer, as he is above time. Yet I don’t know if there are any hasidic texts that go as far as R. Kook in assuming that that since the tzaddik is so closely connected to God that he can go for weeks without praying. I assume all this was only theoretical for R. Kook. I stress this since when one studies the totality of his writings it is obvious that R. Kook includes himself among the special tzaddikim he speaks of.

Now look at how this passage appears in Arpilei Tohar,[18] p. 16. 

The words לפי מדרגתם have been added to the original. This entirely alters the passage’s meaning, turning it on its head. R. Kook is now saying that there are tzaddikim who only rarely need to learn or pray at their special level (meaning that on a daily basis they learn and pray at a lower level, like everyone else). This alteration completely removes the antinomian sense of the passage, since one reading Arpilei Tohar will have no way of knowing that in the original text R. Kook’s point was that the tzaddikim only rarely need to learn or pray at all.

There has been a great deal of discussion about the changes made in Arpilei Tohar, and how they subverted R. Kook’s original intent. In this example, however, it was R. Kook himself who made the change,[19] obviously because he regarded his initial formulation as too provocative to appear in print.

Returning to the matter of Torah mi-Sinai, I was recently asked the following question. In Genesis 46:23 it says ובני דן חושים. “And the sons of Dan: Hushim.”[20] Many commentators discuss why it says “the sons” and not “the son”, since only one son is mentioned.[21] We find the same issue in 1 Chronicles 2:7-8 where it states ובני כרמי and ובני איתן but in each case only one son is listed. The Malbim wrote a commentary on Chronicles entitled Yemei Kedem. In this commentary, ibid., he explains that Carmi and Eitan had more sons, but Ezra, the author of Chronicles, was simply copying this information from an earlier source and only gave the name of the son that was important for his purposes. However, he kept the earlier part of the sentence, which mentions “sons”, and in the original source from which he was quoting other sons’ names also appeared.

Say what you will about this explanation, there is nothing radical in it. However, following this the Malbim says that the phenomenon he just described also explains the verse in Gen. 46:23: ובני דן חושים as well as the verse in Num. 26:8: ובני פלוא אליאב. That is, there were other sons but “he” only included the names that were important for his purpose.[22]

The questioner wondered, who is the “he” that the Malbim is referring to? Is it possible that he has Ezra in mind? I find this most unlikely, as everything that I know about the Malbim argues against the notion that he could have thought that Ezra had a role in the writing of the Torah. This leads me to assume that when the Malbim writes ולא חשיב רק הצריך לו לענינו that he is referring to Moses, and saying that just like Ezra only included the information that he needed, so too Moses chose to leave off the additional names since it wasn’t important for the story he was telling. This preserves complete Mosaic authorship, which I believe the Malbim genuinely affirmed (i.e., I don’t think he is hinting to a more radical view here). 

Some will still see the Malbim’s explanation as problematic in that it assumes that Moses independently made choices about what to include in the Torah. But in truth, even from a traditional perspective this is not problematic, and no different from the many other sources that speak of Moses formulating passages in the Torah on his own. As I pointed out in Limits, p. 113, the traditional view has always been that God’s imprimatur, as it were, was later given to those words originally stated by Moses on his own. So too the Malbim would say that while Moses originally chose what to include here, when the Torah was later given to the Children of Israel this was done at God’s direction, and this is what sanctified the text. So there is really nothing radical about what the Malbim is saying.[23]

Regarding the Malbim, R. Mordechai E. Feuerstein shares the following from R. Soloveitchik.[24]

He told me about the Malbim, the great Torah commentator, who in 1834 paid a visit to the Chasam Sofer in Pressburg. The Malbim was a younger person, about twenty-five years old at that time, while the Chasam Sofer was at the zenith of his career, one of the greatest rabbanim of the 19th century and of the whole period of the Acharonim. The Chasam Sofer accorded much honor to the Malbim, seating him on his right side at the Shabbos table, enabling them to speak together at greater length.

Apparently, after the Shabbos-day meal, the Malbim was so engrossed in what he had heard from the Chasam Sofer that he wandered back to the shul, lost in thought. It was quite dark inside the empty shul, and the Malbim found a place to stand near what seemed to be a wall, and remained there in profound contemplation.

Later when the congregants began returning to shul for Mincha, they were stunned to see the Malbim standing near the aron, still deep in thought, right in the makom kavua of the Chasam Sofer! An angry murmur swept through the crowd; people were about to step forward to rebuke the Malbim when the Chasam Sofer walked in. Quickly sizing up the situation, he stopped them and said: Zol ehr blaiben shtayn (“Let him remain standing there”). The Malbim awoke from his trance and, horror-struck to discover that he had inadvertently been standing in the Chasam Sofer’s place, offered the Chasam Sofer profuse apologies, which were accepted.

For the rest of his life, the Rov told me, the Malbim used to sequester himself in a room for a period of time, right after Shabbos Mincha. Afterwards, he would emerge red-eyed from weeping. With the passage of years, he gradually came to interpret the Chasam Sofer’s words, Zol ehr blaiben shtayn as a punitive decree: Let him remain standing where he is now—his qualitative advance in Torah knowledge is over. Where he is now is where he will stay. The Malbim sensed that the divine gift of creative inspiration which he had experienced before his inadvertent slight to the honor of the Chasam Sofer, had been irrevocably taken away.

R. Hershel Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav, pp. 251-252, also tells the story, as he heard it from R. Soloveitchik, and in his version there are some differences. To begin with, he records that the Malbim came to Pressburg to request a haskamah on his halakhic work Artzot ha-Hayyim, which the Hatam Sofer provided. According to R. Schachter’s version, the mistake happened not when the Malbim returned to the synagogue before minhah, but when he returned for maariv. Furthermore, the Malbim was not standing in the Hatam Sofer’s place, but actually sat in his seat. As he explains, this was an understandable mistake as it was dark and throughout Shabbat he has been sitting in the seat next to that of the Hatam Sofer. When one of the laypeople tried to point out to the Malbim that he was in the Hatam Sofer’s seat, the latter was so involved in his learning that he did not even realize that someone was speaking to him. It was then that the Hatam Sofer said to leave him be. From that time on the Malbim’s main area of hiddush was in the study of Tanakh but not in halakhah[25]:

וכאילו לשונו של הח”ס שאמר לו “שישאר שמה” היה מוסבת על דרגת הלימוד שלו, שלא יעלה עוד הלאה בהלכה

* * * *

I was hoping to discuss the recent political developments that revolve around R. Meir Mazuz, but I see that the post is already quite long as it is. I will therefore postpone this discussion until a future post.

My recent post here was more popular than my typical post. I base this statement on the fact that I received more emails from readers than usual and the post was picked up by a variety of different websites. The part dealing with the censorship of Rashbam was translated into Hebrew here (with one of the commenters calling for a herem to be placed on ArtScroll)[ and see also here.

ArtScroll has now issued its response. The following has been sent out to those who wrote to ArtScroll about the censorship.

Let us make clear at the outset, ArtScroll has total and uncompromising respect for Chazal and the classic commentators. We do not censor them. Every one of their words is holy, and we have never deigned to tamper with their sacred texts.

For an understanding of the matter under discussion, it is important to present the background of the published versions of Rashbam’s commentary on the Torah.

·      Rashbam’s commentary was first printed in 1705, based on the only existing manuscript of his virtually complete commentary on the Chumash. That manuscript began with Parashas Vayeira.

·      Subsequent editions were based on that 1705 printing.

·      In 1882, David Rosin published a new annotated edition of Rashbam’s commentary.

·   The new edition also included a commentary on the Parshiyos Bereishis, Noach, and Lech-Lecha based on comments culled by Rosin from Rashbam’s other writings as well as selections from other works that cite Rashbam. Additionally, this 1882 edition included material taken from a newly-discovered manuscript containing one page of commentary ascribed to Rashbam, on only the first chapter of Bereishis ending in the middle of verse 1:31.

·      This manuscript fragment includes an exegesis that appears several times – an exegesis that Ibn Ezra, in his famous Iggeres HaShabbos, vehemently condemns, stating, that it had been put forth by “minim” (heretics). Furthermore, a later exegesis in the same manuscript page (on verse 14) directly contradicts that earlier exegesis.

In our Czuker edition of Mikraos Gedolos, we wished to provide the Torah public with the fullest version of the Rashbam’s commentary, so rather than beginning with Parashas Vayeira, we incorporated additional material from the 1882 Rosin edition, from the beginning of Bereishis. However, given Ibn Ezra’s attribution of this exegesis to “minim,” coupled with a completely contradictory exegesis in verse 14, it is questionable whether Rashbam actually proposed the exegesis attributed to him.  Because of these factors we added only those writings attributed to Rashbam whose authenticity have not been questioned. Far from “censorship,” we have added to the older, standard Mikraos Gedolos editions.

In my response I will only deal with the matter at hand, that is, the censorship of Rashbam’s commentary, not with the larger matter of whether ArtScroll really has “total and uncompromising respect for . . . the classic commentators.” I have dealt with this latter point in previous posts and offered evidence that contradicts ArtScroll’s assertion.

Let me begin by saying that the one word that best describes ArtScroll’s statement is “chutzpah”. Here we have an explanation from Rashbam that has been discussed and dealt with by some of the greatest Torah scholars for well over a century, yet ArtScroll feels that it knows better than all of them and thus has the authority to simply delete passages from the commentary. If that isn’t chutzpah, I don’t know what is.

Rashbam’s brother, Rabbenu Tam, famously attacked those who deleted or emended passages in the Talmud based on their own understanding.[1] Rabbenu Tam realized that if everyone had the freedom to do with the text as he wished, it wouldn’t be long before the Talmud was irrevocably damaged. As such, anyone who has a suggestion about a mistake in the text is free to add it in the form of a note or in a commentary, but he is not permitted to alter the text itself. The only honest thing would have been for ArtScroll to have included the “objectionable” passages and then explain why they feel that these texts are not authentic.

The fact that ArtScroll sees the passages that it deleted as heretical is irrelevant. Great people have regarded texts of the Rambam, of R. Kook, and of many others as heretical. Does that mean that we can start deleting these texts? There are aharonim and at least one rishon who believe that there are passages in the Talmud that were inserted by people intent on mocking the Sages (details will be in a future post). Does that mean that if ArtScroll shares this opinion it is entitled to delete these passages as well?

As I mentioned, the chutzpah is seen in the fact that ArtScroll feels that it knows better than such great figures as R. David Zvi Hoffmann[2] and R. Yaakov Kamenetsky.[3] Both of these men were not simply great talmudists but were also great biblical scholars, and they expound Rashbam’s view. It never occurred to them to delete the passages or to claim that they aren’t authentic. Cassuto was another great biblical scholar and he believed that Rashbam’s understanding of the verse is correct.[4]

Every student of Torah is taught the virtue of humility. What this means is that if you don’t understand something you seek out people greater than yourself to hear their perspective. How come ArtScroll didn’t follow this route before taking the drastic step of deleting the comments of Rashbam?

Unfortunately, if ArtScroll’s mikraot gedolot becomes the standard, anyone who uses the commentaries of R. Hoffmann, R. Kamenetsky, Cassuto and so many others will be very confused. These commentaries will cite Rashbam and explain his words, but the reader who opens up his ArtScroll mikraot gedolot to see what Rashbam says “inside” won’t be able to find it. If he doesn’t read the Seforim Blog, he won’t know what is going on.

For over a hundred years people studied Rashbam’s commentary without any problem. Different interpretations were offered, all in order to make sense of Rashbam’s words. Around fifteen years ago a few people, none of whom have any scholarly or religious standing, started making noise that there is heresy in Rashbam’s commentary on Genesis chapter 1.[5] This led a couple of haredi publishers to delete some or all of the “problematic” comments (different editions have different deletions).[6]

ArtScroll has chosen to follow this regrettable path. When this nonsense first began with the haredim in Israel, the great R. Yehoshua Mondshine, whose recent passing is an enormous loss for all, published the following letter in Kovetz Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael.[7]

The disdain he shows in this letter would be magnified if he were writing about ArtScroll, as one would expect ArtScroll to know better. It is unfortunate that ArtScroll did not heed his final words directed towards publishers inclined to censorship.

יש להתרות במו”לים שלא יהיו נחפזים “לצנזר” את פירוש הרשב”ם מכח סברות תמוהות וקלושות, ויחרדו לנפשם מאזהרות הקדמונים דלייטי ליד המגיה בספרים.

Following R. Mondshine’s letter, there appears a very lengthy letter by R. Menahem ben Shimon[8] explaining that Rashbam’s comments at the beginning of Genesis should not be controversial at all. He concludes by comparing censorship of Rashbam to the burning of Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed, and adds

יש בזה עזות מצח, וביזוי דברי הקדמונים, והתייחסות לדבריהם כאילו חלילה מדובר בתקליטור עם משחקים חינוכיים “בהכשר הרבנים”, וכיו”ב, וכבר הזהירונו חז”ל להיזהר בכבוד תלמידי חכמים שכל דבריהם כגחלי אש.

I have to acknowledge that some people are having a good chuckle right now at my expense. Call it naiveté, but I was convinced that the response of ArtScroll would be to admit the mistake, blame it on an error in “editing” or something like that, and correct matters in the next printing. That would have been a great outcome. I, more than many others, was shocked by ArtScroll’s response. 

In its response ArtScroll states: “[G]iven Ibn Ezra’s attribution of this exegesis to “minim,” coupled with a completely contradictory exegesis in verse 14, it is questionable whether Rashbam actually proposed the exegesis attributed to him.”

The first thing to note is that in the preface to the Iggeret ha-Shabbat, where Ibn Ezra explains what led him to write the work, he does not attribute this exegesis to “minim”. ArtScroll would have you believe that Ibn Ezra stated that the passages they have deleted are heretical interpolations. Even if this was the case, it would only be Ibn Ezra’s opinion. This would not entitle ArtScroll to delete the passages, just like they don’t have the right to delete other passages that some commentator thought were not authentic. But in this case ArtScroll is simply wrong, and I hope that they are not intentionally misleading people. (I also hope that they informed the sponsor of the new mikraot gedolot that they intended to delete passages from Rashbam.[9])

Here is the text from Ibn Ezra.[10]

As you can see, Ibn Ezra responds very sharply to the interpretation mentioned by Rashbam. Although Rashbam is not mentioned by name, the standard view in traditional and scholarly circles is that Ibn Ezra was indeed directing his words at Rashbam and not at others who shared this perspective. This would explain his use of the words ולא תשא פני איש which would only be used with reference to an outstanding scholar.[11] David Kahana suggests that, as a sign of respect, Ibn Ezra does not mention Rashbam by name and he also does not curse the author of the explanation he is attacking.[12] He only curses the one who reads it aloud and the scribe who writes it. If Ibn Ezra was directing his comment against some heretic, we would expect him to curse this person, so the fact that he does not do so is quite significant and indeed points to Rashbam as the “addressee” of Ibn Ezra’s Iggeret ha-Shabbat.

Ibn Ezra never denies the authenticity of the interpretation he is responding to; he just attacks it. His attack on Rashbam’s view is just like Nahmanides’ attack on Maimonides’ view that the angels who came to Abraham were really just part of a prophetic vision. Nahmanides does not deny that Maimonides said this, but he does say that it is forbidden to accept what Maimonides says. It is the exact same thing here. Ibn Ezra is not denying that Rashbam offered the interpretation. He is simply saying that it is forbidden to accept this approach. (I should also add, since we are discussing a dispute between Ibn Ezra and Rashbam, that by any traditional measure Rashbam must be regarded as a more significant and authoritative figure than Ibn Ezra.)

ArtScroll also states that since Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis 1:14 contradicts what he says in the passages deleted by ArtScroll, this gives weight to their assumption that the other passages were not written by Rashbam but were instead inserted by some heretic. To begin with, since there are five[13] “problematic” comments and one “non-problematic” comment, perhaps it is the “non-problematic” comment to Genesis 1:14 that is to be regarded as inauthentic and should be removed. I say this only tongue and cheek, since ArtScroll should have realized two pretty basic things.

1. Rashbam often offers explanations, even in matters of halakhah, that are in line with the peshat of the text but diverge from the talmudic understanding. I understand that in some contemporary circles this would be regarded as heretical, since they assume that the meaning of the verse, especially in halakhic matters, can only be what the sages of the Talmud declare. Yet Rashbam had a different perspective, and he allowed for a peshat that diverges from what the Talmud states.

2. If you have contradictory explanations in the same chapter, the proper thing to do is to see if they can be reconciled before deciding that some of the comments are not authentic and can therefore be deleted. This was the approach of the great scholars of the last century who discussed Rashbam’s commentary. If ArtScroll had “uncompromising respect” for these figures, who devoted great time to understanding what Rashbam was saying, they would not have dared delete Rashbam’s comments, since by doing so they are in effect claiming that they know better than R. Hoffmann, R. Kamenetsky, and so many others.

Let me cite some other writers, including outstanding Torah scholars, who discussed Rashbam’s comments on when the day begins. In ArtScroll’s eyes this was all a big waste of time, since Rashbam never could have said what appears in his commentary. I guess we should all feel sorry for these Torah scholars that when they wrote they didn’t have ArtScroll around to set them straight. The more important question is why didn’t ArtScroll think that any of the explanations offered by these scholars were enough to save Rashbam’s comments from being deleted? (My own sense is that the individual who made the choice to censor Rashbam did not begin to understand the issue and was unaware of the sources referred to in this post.)

1. R. Menahem M. Kasher discusses Ibn Ezra’s attack on Rashbam and offers an explanation for Rashbam’s position, distinguishing between how the days were structured in the first six days of creation and what occurred afterwards.[14] R. Kasher also cites R. Pinhas Horowitz, Ha-Makneh to Kiddushin 37b, that before the giving of the Torah night came after day, and this can also be an explanation for Rashbam’s approach. In support of his assumption, R. Horowitz cites a verse not mentioned by Rashbam, Genesis 8:22:  ויום ולילה לא ישבתו. As you can see, in this verse night comes after day. (R. Horowitz repeats this explanation in his Panim Yafot to Genesis 8:22.) R. Moses Sofer cites this point from R. Horowitz and notes that even today it is only with regard to Jews that night precedes day, but for non-Jews the halakhah remains that day precedes night.[15]

R. Ezekiel Landau agrees with R. Horowitz that before the giving of the Torah the day did not start at night.[16] In support of this approach, R. Samuel Mirsky refers to Ugaritic literature which he regards as real evidence for Rashbam’s position.[17]

R. Moshe Malka also takes note of R. Horowitz’s position.[18]  Based on it he claims that

נחה שקטה תמיהתו של הראב”ע על הרשב”ם, כי הוא דבר על מעשה בראשית לפני מת”ת

R. Catriel David Kaplin also refers to R. Horowitz’ perspective and explains that Rashbam agrees with it.[19]

R. Kasher further cites R. Isaac Israeli (14th century) as agreeing with R. Horowitz. In his Yesod Olam[20] R. Israeli writes

וכן נהגו כל ישראל ממתן תורה ועד עתה להתחיל קדושת השבת ושאר ימי מקראי קודש מתחילת הלילה . . . ועל העיקר הנכון הזה יסדו לנו קדמונינו וקבעו בחשבון מולדות הלבנה ותקופת החמה.

R. Kasher calls attention to the words ממתן תורה ועד עתה and concludes that R Israeli is telling us that before the giving of the Torah the day began in the morning.

Finally, R. Kasher points to two separate rabbinic texts, one talmudic and one midrashic, that he feels can support Rashbam’s approach.

2. Da’at Mikra to Genesis 1:5 (p. 10 n. 168) explains that Rashbam’s understanding of when the day begins only refers to the six days of creation.

3. A different approach in explaining Rashbam is taken by R. Moshe Schwerd in a recent article in Or Yisrael.[21]

4. The Lubavitcher Rebbe refers to Rashbam’s explanation of when the day begins in order to illustrate how explanations in accord with peshat can contradict the accepted halakhah.[22]

5. R. Chaim Leib Zaks calls attention to the fact that two medieval authorities explain Genesis 1:5: ויהי ערב ויהי בקר, just as Rashbam did, that is, that day comes before night.[23] The first is the commentary attributed to Rashi, Ta’anit 11b, s.v. למחר.[24] The second is the commentary attributed to Rashi, Nazir 7a s.v. התם.[25]

6. R. Eliyahu Katz, who served as rav of Bratislava under the Communists and later as chief rabbi of Be’er Sheva, published a number of interesting books which appear to be completely unknown. In his Emor ve-Amarta[26] he states that R. Judah ha-Nasi might also have held that according to the peshat night comes after day, and that Rashbam might have based his explanation on R. Judah’s opinion. He also points out that Rashi, Genesis 1:14 writes

שמוש החמה חצי יום ושמוש הלבנה חציו הרי יום שלם

This is a strange formulation since Rashi appears to be agreeing with Rashbam that the day – שמוש החמה – comes before the night – שמוש הלבנה.

After all we have seen, let us return to the issue of Ibn Ezra’s attack on Rashbam and ask why it was so harsh. After all, what is so terrible about explaining the peshat of the Torah even if it diverges from the accepted halakhah, an approach that is found in numerous commentators?

The significance of the example we have been discussing is that there were indeed sectarians who observed Shabbat from Saturday morning until Sunday morning. Rashbam’s interpretation was thus dangerous as it could have had real world implications by giving support to the anti-halakhic behavior just mentioned.

In his commentary to Exodus 16:25 Ibn Ezra refers to “many people, lacking in faith” who erred in this matter and did not start Shabbat on Friday night. He tells us that they based their mistaken approach on Genesis 1:5: ויהי ערב ויהי בקר. In other words, they interpreted the verse in the same way that Rashbam did. Towards the end of Iggeret Shabbat, p. 171, he also mentions these “minim” who do not observe Shabbat beginning Friday night. It is thus easy to see why Ibn Ezra reacted so strongly and set out to uproot Rashbam’s interpretation.

Who were these sectarians Ibn Ezra refers to? Presumably the Mishawites, a group that we know started Shabbat on Saturday morning.[32] Benjamin of Tudela records meeting sectarians in Cyprus, again presumably Mishawites, who indeed observed the Shabbat in this fashion.[33]

In the last paragraph of the ArtScroll letter it states that from now on they will note that their text of Rashbam is the standard Vilna edition of 1898 with “emendations from the Rosin edition of 1882”. This is clearly obfuscation as we are not dealing here with any “emendations” suggested by Rosin. To repeat what the issue is: Rosin printed from manuscript Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis chapter 1. This section of the commentary does not appear in the standard Vilna edition. ArtScroll chose to include Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis chapter 1 in its recently published mikraot gedolot. However, ArtScroll also chose to delete those sections of the commentary it didn’t like, assuming (without any evidence) that these sections were written by heretics. This is censorship of  Rashbam. That is all people need to know.[34]

ArtScroll has done some great things. They have also done some pretty disappointing things. But as I said in the prior post, nothing comes close to this. Deleting comments of one of the greatest rishonim is simply outrageous. Some have said that what ArtScroll did is unforgivable. I think this is going too far. If ArtScroll acknowledges its error and reinserts that which has been removed, I think that we all would be very happy to put this behind us. One of the most important aspects of a Torah personality is the ability to recognize when one has made a mistake and rectify it. If ArtScroll is able to do this, it would lead to great admiration.

On the other hand, if ArtScroll refuses to acknowledge that it has made a terrible error, even after seeing the evidence presented in this post, then one must conclude that ArtScroll is knowingly suppressing the words of a great rishon. One can only hope that ArtScroll does not wish to have this blemish permanently attached to its name.

Self-Censorship in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, ArtScroll’s Latest Betrayal, and Other Assorted Comments

Marc B. Shapiro

1. R. Mordechai Rabinovitch has recently published the second volume of his commentary on the Arukh ha-Shulhan, dealing with the laws of Hanukkah. I strongly encourage anyone who prepares for the holiday by studying the halakhot in the Arukh ha-Shulhan to use R. Rabinovitch’s valuable work.

Interestingly, R. Rabinovitch vocalizes the work as Arokh ha-Shulhan. This is based on the fact that these words, with this vocalization, appear in Isaiah 21:5. Yet this is incorrect. As R. Eitam Henkin has pointed out, when the work was published by R. Epstein himself, the title in Russian also appeared on the binding. R. Epstein knew Russian very well, and the Russian reads “Arukh”. Henkin also notes that in the edition published in Vilna by his daughter, the title appeared in Latin letters. Once again we see that it was pronounced “Arukh”.[1] This latter point might have been known to some long-time readers of the Seforim Blog, as this page with the Latin letters was reproduced in this post from 2007. Here it is again.

The Arukh ha-Shulhan was the subject of a dispute between R. Shaul Yisraeli, a member of the Supreme Rabbinic Court (Beit Din ha-Gadol) and Menachem Elon, of the Israeli Supreme Court. The context was that France had requested that Israel extradite a criminal. Elon argued that this was permitted according to Jewish law. In support of this he cited Arukh ha-Shulhan 388:7, which states that there is no law of mesirah when dealing with a civilized government and legal system, such as in Czarist Russia[!] and England. Here is the text.

When challenged by R. Shaul Yisraeli that the text in the Arukh ha-Shulhan was written with an eye to the anti-Semitic government, Elon defended his position that the text is R. Epstein’s authentic opinion.[2] I don’t wish to get into this dispute at present,[3] and readers interested in the topic can consult R. Michael Broyde’s article “Informing on Others for Violating American Law: A Jewish Law View”, available here. 

R. Rabinovitch’s new commentary is also relevant to this debate, since he identifies examples of what he regards as self-censorship in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, and these are in areas not as potentially problematic as the halakhot dealing with mesirah. In his discussion of the Hanukkah story, Arukh ha-Shulhan 670:3, R. Epstein writes: שכשנכנסו אנשי אנטיוכס להיכל. Yet in the Talmud it states שכשנכנסו יוונים להיכל. R. Rabinovitch suggests that this is an example of self-censorship.[4] At first I thought that this was somewhat far fetched. I didn’t think that there was any reason to fear that government officials would be offended by a simple historical description that mentions the ancient Greeks. However, S. wrote to me as follows.

Yevanim was a particularly loaded term in Russia (for historical purposes this includes regions outside of Russia proper, like Ukraine), because Jews called the non-Jews Yevanim. They did so because many Ukrainians were of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church (the Russian Orthodox Church is an Eastern Orthodox Church and in that way ‘related’ to Greece as well). It is for this reason that Hanover called his account of the Khmelnitzky massacres Yeven Metzula, and refers to the Cossacks as yevanim – but we can see it from other sources, too. For example, see attached for a horrifying account of a massacre on the second day of Pesach 1655. You can see he calls the Cossacks yevanim (from here).

Supposedly it was also a play on the name Ivan, but I’m not sure if that’s just folk etymology. But more importantly, we can see that some works took it seriously and changed yevanim to something else, to avoid offending the censor. See here where changing yevanim to “yehirim” in Maoz Tzur was a somewhat common change.

And see here where it documents in the 1840s that Jews called the Russians yevanim  – and doubtless you can show it from many Yiddish sources, too. See here where I discuss how the Slavuta Talmud actually changes a gemara; “Rabbi said, why speak Syriac in Eretz Yisrael? Speak Hebrew or Greek!” to “Speak Hebrew or Akum!” 

So in my view the Arukh Ha-Shulchan definitely deliberately wrote Antiochos.

We can argue about whether this or that particular halakhah in the Arukh ha-Shulhan is an example of self-censorship, but there can be no doubt about the basic fact that R. Epstein did indeed censor himself for fear of the Czar. All one needs to do is see his fawning essay “Kevod Melekh”, at the beginning of Arukh ha-Shulhan, Hoshen Mishpat, to get a sense of the environment he had to operate in. In this essay he tells the reader how much the Jews love the Czar, and that is why they pray for him and his family every Shabbat and Yom Tov.

R. Eliyahu Zini,[5] whose books I hope to discuss in a future post, points to a clear example of the Arukh ha-Shulhan’s self-censorship in Orah Hayyim 329:9. There he writes:

לסטים שצרו על בתי ישראל אם באו על עסקי ממון . . . אבל אם באו על עסקי נפשות להרוג ולאבד או אפילו באו סתם והיינו שאין ידוע לנו על מה באו הוה ג”כ כבבירור על עסקי נפשות דסתם לסטים הם הורגי נפשות יוצאים עליהם בכלי זיין ומחללין עליהם את השבת ובזמן הקדמון בזמן שבהמ”ק היה קיים ובאו לעיר העומדת על הגבול. . . .

This halakhah is derived from Eruvin 45a, but in this text there is no mention of bandits – לסטים. Rather, the Talmud is speaking of non-Jews – נכרים (an alternate reading cited by Dikdukei Soferim is גוים). Secondly, there is nothing in the Talmud about the last halakhah I quoted only applying in the era when the Temple stood. These changes made by R. Epstein were due of fear of creating problems with the government. I think this is as clear as it can be, which makes it very surprising that R. Ovadiah Yosef took the Arukh ha-Shulhan at face value that the latter halakhah only applied in the days of the Temple. R. Ovadiah then points out that the Shulhan Arukh disagrees, seeing the halakhah as also applying in contemporary times.[6]

R. Zini cannot contain himself at this (mis)understanding of R. Ovadiah, and as he often does, he rejects R. Ovadiah’s point very strongly.[7]

ומי פתי הוא זה שלא יבין שבעל ערוך השלחן “צינזר את עצמו” מפחד הצאר, כפי שעשה בעשרות מקומות בספרו זה . . . ופלא נשגבה ממני איך הגר”ע יוסף שליט”א לא הבחין בכך?!

As mentioned already, the Talmud, Eruvin 45a, uses the word נכרים. This means non-Jews, and only non-Jews. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I saw that the Soncino translation has the following: “If foreigners besieged Israelite towns.” Since there is no way that the translator, who was a learned man, could have made such a mistake, I can only assume that this translation was also designed to avoid any non-Jewish ill will.

Since the author of the Arukh ha-Shulhan, R. Jehiel Michel Epstein, was the brother-in-law of R. Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, now is a good place to note the problem with one of the titles of R. Berlin’s works. His commentary to R. Ahai Gaon’s She’iltot is העמק שאלה. How should these words be pronounced? Some scholars write Ha-Amek She’alah, basing themselves on Isaiah 7:11. However, Gil S. Perl argues that the correct pronunciation is Ha-Amek She’elah. As he puts it, if the pronunciation in Isaiah was intended, “the title would mean ‘sink to the depths,’ the ‘depths’ (from the word she’ol) being a reference to the netherworld or Hell—a rather strange title for a work of halakhic commentary.” Perl therefore suggest that the Netziv “intended his title as a play on those words from Isaiah pronounced Ha’amek She’alah, meaning ‘delve into the question” or perhaps ‘delve into the She’ilta.’”[8]

Speaking of proper pronunciation of titles, ArtScroll might play a positive role in this. Since today so many people studying Talmud are using ArtScroll, they will see that the tractates are pronounced “Arachin”, not “Eruchin”, and “Horayos”, not “Horiyos”. So I hope that these yeshivish pronunciations will soon be a thing of the past, at least among English speakers, and if so this will be thanks to ArtScroll. Furthermore, since their edition of the Midrash Rabbah has started to appear people in yeshiva circles will begin to use it, and slowly the pronunciation “Medrish” may go by the wayside (at least we can hope so). Now if we could only rid people of the pronunciation “ikrim” instead of “ikarim”.

Having said all this, it is also the case that general convention can sometimes trump proper grammatical pronunciation. For example, take the words נודע ביהודה which appear Psalms 76:2. These words are pronounced Noda Bihudah, yet when referring to the book by this title the convention is to write Noda bi-Yehudah, even though this is not the correct pronunciation.

For those who want to see a bit of “Sephardic supremacy” when it comes to pronunciation, see this video where R. Ovadiah really lets the Ashkenazim have it.

Returning to the Arukh ha-Shulhan, its significance has declined in the last two generations. While figures such as R. Joseph Elijah Henkin, R. Moses Feinstein, and R. Yaakov Kamenetsky regarded the Arukh ha-Shulhan as more authoritative than the Mishnah Berurah,[9] not many poskim still have this perspective. Whereas the Arukh ha-Shulhan used to stand on its own, in our day we have seen the publication of an edition of the Arukh ha-Shulhan accompanied by the pesakim of the Mishnah Berurah, the point of which is to let the reader know that while one can study the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a theoretical work, when it comes to practical halakhah one must follow the Mishnah Berurah.[10]

The truth is that one can use the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a work of practical halakhah just like one can use the Mishnah Berurah. This reminds me of an experience I had many years ago when I believe I was still in high school. I was at a shiur where the rabbi was learning Mishnah Berurah. After reading one halakhah in the Mishnah Berurah he pointed out that “we don’t hold like this”. A member of the audience asked how one who learns the Mishnah Berurah by himself is supposed to know when that is the case, that is, when “we don’t hold” like it. The rabbi replied that this is why it is important to have a rav, so that you will know when we follow the Mishnah Berurah and when we don’t.

Even though I was quite young I thought that this was a mistaken reply, and the many years subsequent have not changed my mind. It is of course important to have a rav, but not for the reason the rabbi said. There is absolutely nothing wrong with someone learning the Mishnah Berurah (or Arukh ha-Shulhan) and following everything in it. One doesn’t need, and it would be an impossible task, to ask his rabbi about each and every halakhah if this is what “we follow”. One who lives in an Orthodox community will learn that sometimes the community practice is more lenient than what appears in these works, and sometimes it is more strict. It is in those circumstances that I think that one should consult one’s rav, and ask him if despite common practice it makes sense to be lenient in accord with either of these texts, or if one should be strict as recommended by either the Mishnah Berurah or Arukh ha-Shulhan even though the common practice is not like this. But as a general rule, and I have never had a teacher who thought otherwise, one can rely on either of these classic halakhic texts.

2. Many people were distressed to see the sources from great pre-modern poskim that spoke about all sorts of physical mutilation, including R. Asher ben Jehiel agreeing that an adulteress’ nose could be cut off. I have mentioned in the past, but it bears repeating here, that the various punishments seen were also found in the contemporary non-Jewish society.[11] I know this may be troubling to some readers, to see that leading rabbis had an approach to punishment that today people regard as barbaric. Yet there really is no alternative, as to a certain extent, every generation reflects the general values of society at large. Halakhah and Jewish thought are often likewise affected in this way. I have provided numerous examples of this throughout the years, so there is no need to go through it again.[12]

3. In a question “ripped from the headlines”, I was asked if I know of any past examples of someone secretly observing women in the mikveh. I don’t of any such cases, although in the anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im[13] it quotes a hasidic author as follows:

ואני אומר דראוי לעמוד בשעת טבילה. ויאמין לי שפעם אחת עמדתי בעת שטבלה אשה אחת וראיתי באותו מקום ודי עלי כאוות ולא כלום. ולאחר שהלכתי משם שרי עלי קדושה גדולה.

I have never heard of such a mikveh, where men would bathe on one side and women immerse on the other. In fact, I wouldn’t pay this text any mind, since I find it hard to believe that anyone who examines the citations from the work, which are supposedly notes on the Tur, will not conclude that it is a forgery designed to make the Hasidim look bad.[14] There are so many outrageous things said in the text that nothing else makes sense. Did any hasid, even the most extreme, ever say that one who prays properly need not fast on Yom Kippur ?[15]

כתב הטור: יוה”כ אסור באכילה ושתי’. וכתב המין: ומי שיוכל לכוין בתפלה כתיקונה מותר בכל, ואין אכילה רק שיהא עם רוחניות ולא עם גשמיות כידוע ליודעי חן.

It is difficult even to record the following shocking text,[16] but we are not in the business of censorship here, and as mentioned, I have no doubt that this is a forgery.

כתב הטור: דבעל קרי מותר האידנא בתפילה . . . וה”ה אף להוציא זרע מחמת גודל החימום הק”ש והתפילה כי זהו העיקר לכבוד השי”ת, כידוע לחכמים השלימים.

Speaking of authentic texts, however, R. Joseph Hayyim does deal with a case of voyeurism and prescribes a teshuvah for this. I don’t want to get any more explicit, so for those who read Hebrew here is the text from Od Yosef Hai: Halakhot, parashat Shofetim, no. 51[17].

I am aware of only two times that a woman (other than one’s wife) can be seen without her clothes. One is the sotah, when her top is removed.[18] R. Judah states that if her breasts are attractive, they are not exposed,[19] but his opinion is not accepted. The other time is that the kohen must examine both men and women for tzara’at, and in both cases they are to be naked.[20]

As for the current controversy about whether dayanim need to see a female convert immerse, no one has yet referred to the following responsum from Kitvei R. Weinberg, vol. 1, no. 10. When I published this book I decided to have this short responsum translated from German, although I wasn’t sure if it was worth the trouble since all R. Weinberg was doing was repeating the halakhah as it appears in the Shulhan Arukh. Recent attempts to alter the traditional method of womens’ conversion, by arguing that the dayanim should not see the actual tevilah, show that even a simple responsum like this one can have value. I am very happy that it was translated and included in the sefer, so that it can now be part of the public conversation. 

Regarding the sources that have been cited in support of changing the traditional practice, no one has yet referred to a responsum by R. Isaac Herzog in which in the specific case he discusses (and I don’t think it can be used le-khathilah for other cases) he allows that only women see the tevilah.[21]

Also worth noting, even though in my opinion it has no halakhic significance, is Masekhet Gerim 1:4 which states:

האיש מטביל את האיש והאשה מטבלת את האשה

R. Hayyim Kanievsky points out, in his commentary ad loc., that this implies that men did not see any part of the immersion (unlike the current practice).

משמע שהאנשים לא יראוה כשהיא טובלת . . . משמע שאין רואין טבילתה רק הנשים.

R. Aryeh Leib Grossnass, Lev Aryeh, vol. 2, no. 11, argues that the beit din does not actually have to see the immersion in order for the conversion to be valid. It is this responsum that R. Moses Feinstein is responding to in Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah vol. 2, no. 127.

S. also called my attention to this document from 1844 signed by Isaac Leeser and currently on auction at Sotheby’s (link). It records how the conversion of a girl was only witnessed by two women, not by the beit din.

4. Simcha Goldstein was kind enough to send me these pictures from a Passover Haggadah sent out to donors by Yeshiva Torah Vodaath. It hardly needs to be said that such pictures (check out how the women are dressed), not to mention the Zionist theme as a whole, would never appear today in anything sent out by this yeshiva. 

Regarding Yeshiva Torah Vodaath, in the book Mi-Pihem shel Rabbotenu (Bnei Brak, 2008), p. 49, there in an interview with R. Don Ungarischer who states that when R. Reuven Grozovsky came to the United States during World War II, Torah Vodaath was the only yeshiva in America. This is incorrect and I am not just referring to the existence of Yeshivat R. Yitzchak Elhanan or Beit ha-Midrash le-Torah in Chicago, as Yeshivat R. Chaim Berlin also existed during this period. 

5. The second volume of Haym Soloveitchik’s collected essays has just been published. This is a very important work, especially since nine of the essays have never before appeared in print. Among these newly published essays are those that put forth a new thesis about the origins of Ashkenazic religious culture. There is so much learning in this book, and it is written in such an engaging style, that anyone with an appreciation for the history of halakhah will be spellbound.

The essay “The ‘Third Yeshivah of Bavel’”, where Soloveitchik elaborates on his new thesis, is a particular favorite of mine. It could be that in the end the scholarly community will reject his position. Yet just to read how he develops his argument, and attempts to create an entirely new paradigm, is a treat. Here is one lengthy paragraph from the essay that I found quite significant (p. 161).

Shift back now to the mid-tenth century and the original characteristics of Ashkenaz. I have noted that the new settlers saw no difference between the aggadic sections of the Talmud and the halakhic ones and exegeted both in equal detail. We take this, too, for granted because we find a commentary on both sections on every printed page of the Talmud that we have seen since early youth. Think, however, what this entails lexically. The halakhic portions of the Talmud are strongly formulaic, as is any unpunctuated text. If one knows some thirty to forty idiomatic phrases in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, most halakhic passages will pose few linguistic problems. (Understanding their legal content is a different matter.) However, the aggadic narratives entail a wide-ranging and detailed knowledge of the Aramaic language—all the terms of different household utensils, farm equipment, agricultural practices, domestic animals, flora and fauna, to mention just a few areas of life that are reflected in the narratives of the aggadeta. We are talking about a vocabulary of some 10,000-12000 words, if not more. (Actually, much more, as one should count meanings rather than words or roots [shorashim]. Most words have multiple meanings, and commanding a language means precisely controlling the numerous meanings of its words, as well as its idioms.) Unless these settlers had a vast dictionary, alongside which the Sefer he-Arukh would seem a Berlitz phrase book, and unless this enormous dictionary and even the memory of it got lost in the Mainz academy within one generation, we must conclude that these immigrant founders of Ashkenazic culture were Aramaic speakers. Precisely because Aramaic was their native tongue, they could readily undertake what the scholars of Kairouan, Fez, and Lucena (all native Arabic speakers) could only attempt with trepidation, namely, to exegete the entire Talmud, leaving no phrase, halakhic or aggadic, unexplained.

6. The most recent issue of Milin Havivin has appeared. My article “Torah im Derekh Eretz as a Means of Last Resort” can be seen here.

I also published a letter from R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and part of another letter he wrote.

These are important letters as they show R. Weinberg’s strong belief that in the modern world rabbis need to have a secular education in order to be effective. Those who read Hebrew will see very clearly where R. Weinberg stood on this issue, and that for all his love and respect for the haredi roshei yeshiva, intellectually and spiritually he was not part of their world.

7 Finally, we come to what I have termed ArtScroll’s latest betrayal. These are harsh words, but I believe them to be entirely justified. It is one thing to censor R. Zevin, or to cut out passages from other recent works. But to do this with rishonim is a completely different matter. After my book appears, I will discuss a number of examples of censorship that for one reason or another I did not include in the book, as well as examples that I only became aware of after the book was in press. However, this is such an important example that I did not want to wait. Its importance is such that I have no doubt that according to halakhah, anyone who demands a refund from ArtScroll is entitled to his money back, as what I will show you is nothing less than a betrayal not only of the reader, who paid good money to get what he thought was a complete mikraot gedolot chumash, but also of one of the greatest rishonim, R. Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam).

Soon after Rosh ha-Shanah 2014, ArtScroll released the first volume of its mikraot gedolot chumash. It is a beautifully typeset edition, completely punctuated. The response was so positive that within a month the volume was reprinted, and it would not be a surprise if the ArtScroll mikraot gedolot became the new standard.

One of the new elements of this edition is that Rashbam to Genesis chapter 1 is included, which is not the case with the old mikraot gedolot chumashim. (It is found in the Mossad ha-Rav Kook Torat Hayyim mikraot gedolot). As you can see on this page, the Rashbam’s commentary is taken from the Rosin edition (which is where the commentary to Gen. ch. 1 first appeared).

In his commentary to chapter 1 Rashbam advances the notion that according to the peshat of the Torah, the day does not start in the evening, but in the morning. This is only one of many examples where Rashbam’s commentary explains biblical verses in accordance with the peshat, and in opposition to the rabbinic understanding. He even states that according to the peshat the commandment of tefillin in Exodus 13:9 is not to be understood literally.[22] Of course, Rashbam put on tefillin, but in this case he was only explaining what he thought the peshat was. Similarly, he began Shabbat in the evening, not in the morning, but this did not stop him from offering a peshat that differed from the halakhah.

For some reason, ArtScroll finds this difficult to take, and therefore decided to delete all of Rashbam’s “problematic” comments regarding the beginning and end of the day. I repeat, since I know this will be hard for people to believe: ArtScroll omitted portions of Rashbam’s commentary from its mikraot gedolot.

Here is Rashbam’s commentary on Gen. 1:4 and 1:5 in the Rosin edition.

Now look at ArtScroll’s version of Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:4 and 1:5. Entire sections of his commentary to each of the verses have been omitted!

Here is Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:8 in the Rosin edition.

Here is how the commentary to Gen. 1:8 appears in ArtScroll.

Again you can see that a section of the commentary has been deleted.

Here is Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:31 in the Rosin edition.

ArtScroll completely omits this short comment.

It is not only in Genesis chapter 1 that Rashbam’s that has been tampered with. I only skimmed a few other places and I found the following problem with Gen. 49:16. The first words in ArtScroll’s version of Rashbam commentary are המפרש על שמשון.

Yet look at the Rosin edition where the first word is המפרשו.

Small emendations such as this are obviously not acceptable, but they are in an entirely different category than the censorship in Genesis chapter 1.

I also found problems with ArtScroll’s punctuation of Rashbam. For example, in his commentary to Gen. 37:2, which is one of his most famous passages, Rashbam states that he heard from his grandfather (Rashi) that if he had time he would write new commentaries לפי הפשטות המתחדשים בכל יום. The word הפשטות is to be vocalized as ha-peshatot, i.e., the plural of peshat. ArtScroll has the mistaken vocalization ha-pashtut. Later in this verse Rashbam writes (in the Rosin version) לפי דרך ארץ קורא אחיו. ArtScroll has קרא, changing the verb from participle to perfect. I have not gone through even one chapter of the book, comparing Rosin’s edition to ArtScroll (not to mention other commentaries). If I were to do so, I am sure many more such examples would be revealed.

This post does not need any long conclusion, as the evidence speaks for itself. I would only add that when modern publishers feel that they can start deleting commentaries of rishonim, then we have reached a new low. Will students of Torah, those who treasure the words of Rashbam, tolerate this betrayal? I think (hope) not, which is why it is imperative that in the next printing ArtScroll reinsert the words of Rashbam.

Marc B. Shapiro

Here is the passage as it appears in the censored Mikraot Gedolot Ha-Maor.

Fortunately, the new English translation of Siftei Hakhamim published by Metsudah includes the passage in its entirety.

2. In a recent post I referred to the Yemenite Rabbi Shlomo Korah and his experience in Lakewood. R. Korah has also published a commentary on Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah entitled Sefat Melekh. Although R. Korah presumably knows Arabic, for some reason he didn’t know what to make of the word שָם found throughout the Mishneh Torah, including right at the beginning:

יסוד היסודות ועמוד החכמות לידע שים שם מצוי ראשון

Numerous commentaries struggle with the word, and R. Korah offers his own interpretation, stating that it should be vocalized with a tzereh under the shin, not a kamatz.[2] Yet R. Samuel Ibn Tibbon, in the introduction to his translation of the Guide, already explained what the word means.

שבערבי כשירצו החכמים לומר שיש בעולם דבר או בנמצא דבר אחד, יאמרו שיש שם דבר אחד, רומזים במלת “שם” אל המציאות.

See also R. Joseph Kafih’s commentary to Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 1:1. Confusion about the word שם goes back to medieval times, and in a recently published text of the Provencal sage R. Meir ha-Meili we see that he too did not know its meaning.[3]

R. Shlomo Korah should not be confused with R. Ezra Korah who is the translator of a new edition of Maimonides’ Commentary on the Mishnah that was published in 2009. The new translation is not very different than R. Kafih’s translation and is obviously based on the latter. It is also not an improvement on what R. Kafih provided us with. What makes this edition valuable is that each page is full of helpful notes compiled by a team of scholars. In fact, I don’t think anyone can seriously study Maimonides’ Commentary on the Mishnah without making use of this new edition.

Yet there is something deeply problematic about this edition. As is well known, R. Kafih’s translation of Maimonides’ Commentary sparked a new interest in study of this work, and for decades was the text that everyone used.[4] R. Korah’s new edition, which as already indicated is based on that of R. Kafih, only mentions R. Kafih once in the lengthy introduction.[5] Throughout the notes to the Commentary, R. Kafih is not mentioned, but is referred to as יש מי שכתב or יש מי שתרגם.

When will these people ever grow up and realize that just because you don’t agree with someone’s outlook doesn’t mean you can’t be a mensch and give him the scholarly credit he deserves? To give an idea of who R. Kafih was, R. Mordechai Eliyahu went so far as to state that was greater than R. Abraham Maimonides![6]

אנו, שאנו מכירים את הרב יוסף קאפח, הוא יותר טוב מבנו של הרמב”ם, איזה בקיאות יש לו בדברי הרמב”ם, הבן שלו לא ידע והוא ידע.

Here is the English dedication page of the new translation and the Hebrew title page.

Look at what it says in the dedication page. Is it possible that they told the donor that the translation that he was funding would be the first time that the Commentary on the Mishnah would be translated into Hebrew?

3. I have many unpublished rabbinic letters that readers will find interesting. Some of them need to be published in a journal, complete with an introduction and footnotes, as I have done in Milin Havivin, Or Yisrael, and elsewhere. (Discerning readers will note the incongruity of the two journals just mentioned.) For others, I don’t need to do anything but post them, as they are easy to read and self-explanatory.

Here is one such example. It is a 1950 letter from Chief Rabbi Isaac Herzog to R. Isser Yehudah Unterman, chief rabbi of Tel Aviv. I found it in the R. Herzog archive in Jerusalem and I thank the archive for allowing me to reproduce the letter. It is significant in that we see how impressed R. Herzog was with R. Elyashiv, and he hopes that R. Elyashiv will agree to move to Tel Aviv to serve as a dayan.[7]

Recently there was talk that if the Israeli draft bill was passed that the Belzer Rebbe would leave the State of Israel. Here is a February 14, 1948 letter from R. Herzog to a previous Belzer Rebbe. As you can see, R. Herzog was very upset when he heard that the Rebbe was thinking of leaving Eretz Yisrael due to the deteriorating security situation. He thought that this would create a hillul ha-shem and break the spirits of some of the Rebbe’s followers.

According to the Steipler, R. Isaac Zev Soloveitchik (the Brisker Rav) also wanted to leave Israel during the 1948 war, and even traveled to Haifa to receive his exit permit. In the end, he was prevented from leaving for reasons beyond his control, and didn’t continue his efforts in this regard. The Steipler explained that his desire to leave Israel was not because he was afraid but because he thought that the halakhah requires one to leave a place of danger to life.[8] I have difficulty understanding this view, as it would mean that all the Jews in Israel would have been required to leave. Presumably, R. Velvel’s point was that one who has no civilian or military role has to leave, since there is no justification for such a person to put his life in danger as he is not in any way contributing to the military cause.

4. In his latest article criticizing the haredi mentality, R. Berel Wein writes:

The great struggle of most of Orthodoxy in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries against Zionism influenced all Orthodox thought and behavior. As late as 1937, with German Jewry already prostrate before Hitler’s madness and Germany already threatening Poland, the mainstream Orthodox rabbinate in Poland publicly objected to the formation of a Jewish state in the Land of Israel on the grounds that the heads of that state would undoubtedly be secular if not even anti-religious.

A number of people wanted details about this rejection of a Jewish state by the Polish rabbinate in 1937. Let me begin by saying that there is no truth to what Wein reports. The mainstream Polish rabbinate, represented by the Agudat ha-Rabbanim of Poland, never publicly objected to the creation of a Jewish state. The Agudat ha-Rabbanim included many rabbis who were Zionist and thus would never act in the way Wein describes. In fact, R. Yehezkel Lifshitz, author of the respected work Ha-Midrash ve-ha-Ma’aseh, was the head of the Agudat Rabbanim until his death in 1932. He was also a great lover of Zion who supported the creation of a Jewish state.[9]

In 1937, not only did Agudat ha-Rabbanim of Poland not reject the idea of a Jewish state, but it issued a public letter affirming the Jewish right to the Land of Israel. This letter also stated that under no circumstances could Agudat ha-Rabbanim agree with the removal of any part of the Land of Israel from future Jewish sovereignty.[10] Here is part of this letter, containing the Agudat ha-Rabbanim’s strong endorsement of a Jewish state.

ישמעו העמים הנאורים שהצהירו בסן-רימו על זכותנו הישנה והמוחלטת על נחלתנו הקדושה בגבולותיה שהציב בורא עולם ית’ את העוולה הנוראה שרוצים לעשות לנו. מחאתנו הכבירה צריכה להגיע לועדת המנדטים, למלך אנגליא, לנשיא ארצות הברית של אמריקה ולבישוף מקנטרבורי

Even Agudat Yisrael at its 1937 international convention in Marienbad (the third Kenesiyah Gedolah) did not reject a Jewish state, even though it was urged to do so by R. Elchanan Wasserman and R. Aaron Kotler. Neither R. Wasserman nor R. Kotler reflected the outlook of the mainstream Lithuanian or Polish rabbinate in this matter. In fact, according to the report of R. Samuel Aaron Pardes who attended the convention, R. Kotler agreed with R. Wasserman that acceptance of a Jewish state before the coming of the Messiah, even a State that would be completely Torah observant, is a denial of the messianic belief.[11] In other words, they both shared what would later be identified as the Satmar philosophy.

5. The internet is an amazing thing. Yechezkel Moskowitz, who listened to my Torah in Motion classes on R. Hayyim Hirschensohn, asked me where he was buried. I didn’t know but after only a couple of minutes online I found the answer: Riverside Cemetery in Saddlebook, N.J. The cemetery was very helpful and sent both me and Yechezkel a picture of the grave. Seeing that it needed to be cleaned up, Yechezkel took the opportunity to do this mitzvah, and here is how the grave currently looks.

Yechezkel also sent the picture to Kevarim.com and it can be found here here.

Here is a picture of R. Hirschensohn.

There is so much to be said about R. Hirschensohn and his enormous literary output and fascinating ideas in all areas of Torah. (I also have a number of unpublished responsa of his.) I have never seen anyone refer to the many short musings of R. Hirschensohn that appear in the Budapest journal Apiryon. I could have a lengthy post discussing any number of his short comments, that remind me both of R. Kook’s Shemonah Kevatzim and also of Nietzsche. Here is musing no. 46, which appears in Apiryon 3 (1926) p. 183:

יש עיקרי אמונה לישראל אשר אינם בספר רק בדם ובמורשה, ואם הספר מתנגד להם ישבקו לקראי דאינהו דחוקים ואוקמי אנפשייהו

The final words of the sentence are derived from Pesahim 59b, and the translation is (based on Artscroll) “Leave the verses alone, for they force themselves to be interpreted this way.”

What R. Hirschensohn is saying in the first part of the sentence is that there are Jewish principles of faith that are not to be found in a book, but are intuitive, i.e., part of our heritage and our blood. We can each come up with our own examples. One which comes to my mind is that it is a principle of faith not to try to settle Jewish problems by involving the non-Jewish authorities. Over thousands of years we have learnt that such an approach leads to all sorts of negative consequences, both foreseeable and unintended.

The second half of the sentence tells us that when a “book truth” contradicts the principle of faith we know intuitively, then the “book truth” is to be understood (reinterpreted if necessary) to conform to our intuitive faith. One can find similarities to this idea in the writings of R. Kook (see here and here where I discussed the observant Jewish masses’ innate natural morality and how according to R. Kook it is superior to the book-learning-based morality of the scholars).

The significance of R. Hirschensohn’s words is in 1) the denial that basic principles of faith are all found in books, and 2) the assertion that intuitive truths can effectively trump what appears in the canonical books. It is obvious that what when R. Hirschensohn writes of דם ומורשה he is speaking about the experience of the Jewish people as a whole, not about the Torah scholars. The Torah scholars are to be viewed as part of this experience of דם ומורשה , not something apart.[12]

In previous posts I have commented that one of the novelties of haredi ideology is the notion that the “Gedolim” are the carriers of all truth. See here where I quote R. Itzele of Ponovezh’s assertion that it is the people, עמך, not the Gedolim, who represent what today is referred to as Daas Torah.[13] This idea can be found in the Talmud and later rabbinic literature as well. When the Talmud and post-Talmudic authorities state
אם אינם נביאים בני נביאים הם  or
פוק חזי מאי עמא דבר  or
 קול המון כקול ש-די  or
מנהג ישראל תורה  they are not referring to the Gedolim but to the masses of pious Jews, the ones who make up the kehillah kedoshah.

Earlier in this post I referred to R. Kook and Nietzsche. Some readers might be thinking that I should write “R. Kook and Nietzsche lehavdil.” Yet R. Hirschensohn rejects the notion that this word should be used to distinguish Jews from non-Jews. See his commentary to Horayot (Jerusalem, 1926), part 3, p.6a.

For those who do want to use the word, R. Hirschensohn says that it is wrong to say הגוי להבדיל since it is precisely the Jews whom God chose to separate as his special people. Therefore, one should say (if he want to use the word),  “Nietzsche and R. Kook lehavdil.” Yet as mentioned already, R. Hirschensohn rejects the usage of this word when it comes to Jews and non-Jews. In addition to what I already quoted, he writes:

R. Hirschensohn is assumed by everyone to be very liberal, in both his outlook as well as in his halakhic decisions. Yet this is not the entire truth, as we can see from his comment in Apiryon 3 (1926), p. 101, where he describes the “New Orthodoxy”, also known as “Conservative”, as akin to Christianity!

היהדות היא פעולת המוח על הלב הנצרות היא פעולת הלב על המוח, אך רבים מחליפים המושגים, לזאת נמצאים יהודים כשרים רבים אשר הם באמת לדאבון לבבינו נוצרים במסוה יהודית אשר קוראים בשם אורטודוקסיה חדשה או קאנסירוואטיף.

He states that in traditional Judaism  the mind is the center, and the heart is influenced by it, while in Christianity it is the reverse, with the heart influencing the mind. The problem with the “New Orthodox” is that they too put the stress on the heart over the mind. As we all know, when the heart is the determining factor, then Jewish law must be constantly updated in accord with people’s changing feelings.

His very next musing (ibid.) is undoubtedly directed against Hasidism, which he sees as mixing up the heart and mind.

עוד כת אחת יש בישראל אשר אם שהם שומרי תורה, אבל יש בהם עירבוב המושגים והתנגשות הלב והמוח

And finally, what is one to make of the following statement (ibid.) that removes Christian belief (as opposed to worship) from the status of avodah zarah?

אין בהנצרות ע”ז רק אולת ושגעון, אבל ההשתחויה מול התמונות הקדושות להם היא עבודה זרה גמורה ע”כ אמרו יום נצרי לעולם אסור.

Does this mean that a belief alone can never rise to the level of avodah zarah?

There is a lot more I want to say about R. Hirschensohn. In the Limits of Orthodox Theology I mentioned his view that even in Messianic days animal sacrifices would not be reinstated. He also has some significant comments about sacrifices in the introduction to his Nimukei Rashi, vol. 3. (This four volume commentary on Rashi is an outstanding work of scholarship.) 

In discussing the origins of sacrifices, R. Hirschensohn sees no reason to assume that Cain and Abel actually brought sacrifices in the sense we think of. While for us, a sacrifice means placing something on an altar and burning it, R. Hirschensohn states that there is no evidence that this is what Cain and Abel did. It is possible that all Cain did was bring his vegetable offering to the top of a mountain where he would commune with God, and left it there. With Cain’s “meager religious philosophical knowledge” he perhaps thought that after he left it there, God would take it. This is how R. Hirschensohn explains that Cain concluded that his sacrifice was not accepted. He reascended the mountain after a few days and lo and behold, the sacrifice had not been taken by God. For Cain, this meant that God didn’t accept it. And what about Abel’s sacrifice? Here, too, R. Hirschensohn says that there is no reason to think that it was burnt on an altar. Rather, it was a gift to God, and what Abel did was send his offering away, so that it would wander freely. This was the gift to God, not that he killed an animal. If you look at Genesis ch. 4, all it mentions is that Cain and Abel brought their offerings to God, not that they were ever burnt as a sacrifice.

How then did the idea of offering animal sacrifices come to be? The first example we have in the Bible is that of Noah when he leaves the ark. At this time he was not yet permitted to eat meat and yet he concluded that it would be proper to kill animals and birds for God. Where did he get this notion? The question is especially sharp as one would have assumed that Noah would be more interested in ensuring that the species multiply, rather than killing members of them. After Noah offers his sacrifices, we are told (Gen. 8:21), “And the Lord smelled the sweet savour; and the Lord said in His heart: ‘I will not again curse the ground any more for man’s sake; for the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; neither will I again smite any more every thing living, as I have done.” This would seem to imply God’s approval of Noah’s sacrifices. R. Hirschensohn’s suggested understanding of this episode is, I think, shocking in its boldness:

ואם שלא רחוק לפרש פסוק זה כמו שהקב”ה צחק בלבו ורחם על קטון דעת האדם החושב להודות לו על ידי עולה וזבח עולת הבהמה ועולת העוף לשורפם ולכלותם בעת אשר הם כל כך מעט בעולם וחושב זה לטובתו, שזה בכלל יצר לב האדם רע מנעוריו שגם מנחה לאל עושה בדרך אכזריות, אמנם צריכים לעמוד על מחשבת האדם ודעתו בהתפלספותו בפליסופיא [!] אלקות איך יוכל לחשוב שבזה יתרצה אל אדוניו?

R. Hirschensohn’s suggested explanation assumes that part of man’s heart being “evil” from his youth was the thought that he should serve God is such a cruel fashion as killing an animal, and God accepting this sacrifice was an example of God being kind to the simpleton Noah who didn’t know any better.

R. Hirschensohn continues by saying that he in no way rejects the sacrificial system. His explanation is only applicable to an era when eating meat was not allowed. However, once the Torah makes clear that killing an animal to eat it is not cruel, we cannot say otherwise. Furthermore, he says, it makes no sense for people who eat meat to object to sacrifices on philosophical grounds.

R. Hirschensohn still has to explain the origin of sacrifices, and his position is quite original. He states that in ancient days people showed their loyalty to one another by a ceremony in which blood was drawn from each of them and mixed together. Later it developed that instead of using human blood to seal covenants, animal blood was used. The next natural development was the notion that sacrifices to the deity should also involve blood, and this is why the nations began to offer sacrifices to their gods, including sacrifices for all the good the god did.

R. Hirschensohn adds that sacrifices represent instinctual religious feelings, and no one who believes in God can degrade such a sign of faith.[14]

Let me now return to what I wrote here concerning R. Hirschensohn’s discussion of the comment of Rashi to Genesis 26:8. The verse states that Abimelech looked out his window and saw that Isaac “was amusing himself with Rebekah.” Upon this verse, Rashi, based on a Midrash, states that Abimelech saw them having marital relations. In the earlier post I expressed surprise that some commentators thought it was appropriate for them to discuss the Patriarch’s sexual life. One reader called my attention to R. Levi ben Hayyim, Livyat Hen: Eikhut ha-Nevuah ve-Sodot ha-Torah, ed. Kreisel (Beer Sheva, 2007), p. 672, which is another example of what occasioned my surprise.

R. Levi contrasts Isaac negatively to both Abraham and Jacob. He regards the latter two as on a higher spiritual level, and thus closer to God, than Isaac, and brings a number of biblical proofs to support this contention. In a really outrageous comment, much more objectionable than R. Levi’s allegorical passages that R. Solomon ben Adret was so upset with (and which don’t appear at all problematic when seen in context), R. Levi suggests that Isaac’s blindness was brought on by the fact that he was so attracted to Rebekah’s beauty[15] that it led to him having too much sex! (Although R. Levi reflects an old superstition, there is actually a medically documented phenomenon of temporary blindness following sex.)

גם תראה היותו נמשך לתענוגים, עד שאהב עשו בעבורם ואמר (בר’ כז, ג): “ועשה לי מטעמים כאשר אהבתי”. ואפשר שזה סבב לו להרבות המשגל עד שכהו עיניו מראות, כי נמשך אחרי יפי רבקה, שהעיד עליה הכתוב שהיתה יפת תואר מאד, הלא אבימלך ראהו מן החלון מצחק עם רבקה אשתו

Finally, let me make one more point about sexual matters in the Torah. Genesis 35:22 states that “Reuben lay with Bilhah.” The Artscroll multi-volume commentary on Bereshit (i.e., not the Stone Chumash), p. 1522, states that in Shabbat 55b “the Sages emphatically declare that Reuben did not commit the sin of adultery. They proclaim that מי שאמר ראובן חטא אינו אלא טועה.”

I believe this to be a conscious distortion of what appears in the Talmud, in the name of “frumkeit”, of course. If you open up the Talmud to Shabbat 55b you find that, first of all, it is not the “Sages” who proclaim מי שאמר ראובן וכו’ but one of the Sages, R. Samuel Bar Nahmani in the name of R. Jonathan. This is a very minor point, since following this statement in the Talmud we find other Sages who agree with this statement, i.e., they also assume that Reuben never actually had sexual relations with Bilhah (and they are quoted in the Artscroll commentary to Bereshit). However, from the Talmud we also learn that there were Sages who disagreed with R. Jonathan and took the biblical text literally. It is none other than the Artscroll Talmud that, quoting Maharsha, explains that according to R. Eliezer, Reuben did have sexual relations with Bilhah.

The Artscroll commentary on Bereshit is a very long work (2232 pages), providing numerous perspectives on every verse. Yet in this case they chose not to include the view of R. Eliezer and R. Joshua that Genesis 35:22 is to be taken literally, and Reuben indeed had sexual relations with Bilhah. A conscious choice had to be made to exclude this view, and I think we all understand why. But doesn’t Artscroll’s choice in this regard show a real lack of respect for R. Eliezer and R. Joshua? Maybe others see things differently, but it appears to me that Artscroll stood in judgment, as it were, over R. Eliezer and R. Joshua, and decided that their view was not worthy of being included since Artscroll did not like what they said. This is hardly the sort of kevod ha-Torah that Artscroll is supposed to represent.

Pursuing the Quest: Selected Writings of Louis Jacobs has just appeared. The Seforim Blog is happy to present the following excerpts from the book. (The Note on Artscroll is part of a longer article.)

References in literature to the use of tobacco by hasidic Jews are numerous [1]. Although there is little direct evidence to indicate how widespread it was, the references suggest it was fairly extensive. Let us examine some of these. In his autobiography Solomon Maimon (d. 1800) describes a youthful visit to the court of Dov Ber of Mezhirech, the founder of the hasidic movement. Maimon remarks:

There is no reason to doubt the accuracy of Maimon’s report, which is substantiated by other early sources. For example, Shivhei Habesht, [3] the legendary biography of the Baal Shem Tov, refers to the famous lulke [4] which the founder of the hasidic movement used to smoke. While recent scholarship [5] tends to treat this work with less scepticism than did earlier scholars, even if all references to the Baal Shem Tov smoking tobacco [6] are fabrications, it is true that hasidim were known to smoke, for their early opponents, the mitnagedim, repeatedly castigated them for wasting time on smoking, which the hasidim believed prepared them for prayer.

One characteristic example in an anti-hasidic polemic is the statement in Zemir aritzim veharvot terurim (published in Alexnitz near Brody in 1772). This work criticizes the hasidim for delaying their prayers in the morning so that they can ‘place incense in their nostrils’. [7] In a letter written from Vilna in 1772, the mitnagedim say of hasidim: ‘They wait many hours before reciting their prayers . . . and they spend all their days in the smoke which proceeds from their mouth.’ [8] In all these early sources smoking as an aid to prayer does not have any special hasidic significance: it is only a means to contemplation. This is probably also true for the hasidic tradition, [9] which holds: ‘When the Baal Shem Tov wished to proceed to the upper worlds he would inhale tobacco and at each puff he would proceed from world to world.’ [10]

There do not seem to be any references to tobacco in the classical hasidic works of doctrine, the hasidic Torah. Their absence from these sources may be because aids to contemplation (such as tobacco) were considered irrelevant to the ideal itself, although contemplation was clearly important in hasidic thought. Rabbi Phinehas of Koretz (Korzec) (1725-91), an associate of the Baal Shem Tov, reportedly observed:

With regard to imbibing tobacco, anything the body requires for it to be healthy is the same for all men. Therefore, since not everyone imbibes tobacco, it follows that it is not a permanent feature in
creation, but only has healing powers for some. It has no healing power, and can do harm, to the majority of men, since it dries up the [bodily] fluid. [11]

Similarly, another reliable source records that Jacob Isaac Horowitz, the Seer of Lublin (1745-1825), used to take snuff during his prayers as an aid to concentration [12] It was not until the middle of the nineteenth century that various mystical and specifically hasidic ideas were imputed to smoking tobacco. While the mitnagedim state that hasidim ‘place incense in their nostrils’, the reference to this is no more than an extrapolation on the verse ‘They shall put incense before Thee’ (Deut. 33: 10). It is not itself conclusive evidence that early hasidim associated smoking with offering incense in the Temple. [13] In Sperling’s Ta’amei haminhagim (a very late work), [14] however, we find that the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov believe that ‘the weed known as tobacco is considered by the zaddikim to be like incense’. Moreover, following from the mystical idea of ‘raising the sparks’ that had fallen to the realms of the demonic powers [15] smoking was thought to be necessary to elevate the very subtle sparks that reside in tobacco. Unlike the sparks in food, which can be elevated when someone who is in a spirit of holiness eats the food [16] tobacco sparks cannot rise that way. Those subtle sparks can only be rescued for the holy by smoking or taking snuff.

A passage from the Talmud (Keritot 6a) states that a minute quantity of ‘smoke-raiser’ (a herb that causes smoke from the incense to rise) was added to the incense in the Temple. This passage is interpreted to mean that smoking tobacco raises the very small holy sparks which cannot be raised any other way. Sperling also refers to the healing properties of tobacco, which he calls segulah, a quasi-magical method. [17] If a woman finds it difficult to give birth, she should be given a pinch of snuff and this will help ease the birth. Nevertheless, Sperling was unable to discover a single reference to tobacco in classical hasidic works.

Rabbi Abraham Judah Schwartz (1827-83), a prominent non-hasidic Hungarian rabbi, was eventually won over to Hasidism. In the biography written by Dov Beer Spitzer (Schwartz’s grandson), [18] we read:

My grandfather, of blessed memory, used to smoke tobacco (including cigars) to the extent that, occasionally, when he was engrossed in his studies and also when he taught his pupils in the beit midrash, it was as if he stood in the midst of a cloud so that it was impossible to come near to him. His son Naphtali Hakohen, of blessed memory, repeated in his name that the zaddikim intend great tikunim [19] and have the following in mind. [20] The pipe is made of clay, which is a mineral. The wood stem represents the plant. The bone mouthpiece comes from an animal. The smoker is a speaking creature [medaber, a human being, and fourth among the categories of mineral, plant, animal, and human] and he elevates all the stages beneath him (mineral, plant, and animal) to the stage of the speaking creature. For the zaddikim never carry out any empty act, Heaven forbid, but have their hearts concentrated on Heaven.

It is also reported that Rabbi Henikh of Olesko (1800-84), son-in-law of Rabbi Shalom Roke’ah of Belz (1779-1855), would take his snuff-box in his hand and inhale the snuff on Friday nights when he recited ‘Kegavna’, the kabbalistic prayer. [21] He would sing certain tones as he inhaled, and if any people were present who were ill or possessed by a dybbuk, a wandering soul which enters the body of a human being as a refuge from the demons which pursue it, they would begin to dance and move while the rabbi inhaled the snuff [22]. Those close to him realized that it was an especially propitious time. Further, Rabbi Eliezer Zevi of Komarno (d. 1898) was reported to have said that the letters of the word tabak have the same numerical value (112) as those of the word yabok, which stands for yihud, berakhah, kedushah (‘unification’, ‘blessing`, and ‘holiness’) and also ya’anenu beyom korenu (‘He will answer us on the day we call’). [23] Thus, he believed that tobacco helped the zaddik to achieve union, bestow blessings on his followers, and raise himself to greater heights of holiness, as well as predispose God to answer his prayers.

Although the hasidic master Rabbi Solomon Shapira (1832-93) is reported to have smoked only at the close of Simhat Torah, on Purim, and on Shushan Purim, [24] on those occasions he would smoke heavily.
In his later years he was also reported to have smoked at the festive meal to celebrate the completion of a talmudic tractate and during Hanukah. At the celebratory meal following a circumcision he was also known to have smoked. Besides the reports of smoking on religious holy days, when Shapira was under severe stress he would smoke cigars in moderation to calm him and keep him from having a nervous breakdown. On the other hand, he was known to have smoked heavily when he travelled: on those occasions he never took a book with him to read and would seldom speak. As he smoked he appeared to be lost in contemplation.

A hasid who knew that Shapira had smoked heavily in his youth once asked him why he gave up the habit when he grew older. The hasid added that since Rabbi Hayim Halberstam of Sanz (1793-1876) used to smoke very heavily, he wondered why Shapira did not follow his example. [25] Shapira replied that Halberstam was reputed to have been ‘one of the serafim’ (Isaiah 6: 6); he was a seraf (fiery angel) and none could match him. But the real reason for giving up smoking, Shapira said, was that it wasted time; it
was better to achieve union through study of the Torah and follow its precepts, engaging in practices essential for bodily strength rather than in luxuries like smoking, which one can live without.

There is a tendency among hasidic masters and hasidim generally to minimize the importance of smoking. In Rahamei ha’av, [26] a short work that first appeared in Lvov in 1868, the author, Jacob Klein (d. 1890), states that young men should not smoke cigars because such a practice is only vanity. [27] Klein also refers to the suggestion ‘in the holy books of the disciples of the Baal Shem Tov’ that tobacco is like incense, even
though that motif cannot be found in the classical hasidic works. He adds that although Rabbi Shalom Roke’ah of Belz used to smoke as a young man, he gave it up when he noticed that a colleague in the beit midrash spent a great deal of time cleaning his pipe, while he (Shalom) could study an entire page of Talmud in the time his colleague took to clean his pipe. Klein also reports that the hasidic master Rabbi Moses ben Zvi Teitelbaum of Ujhely (1759-1841) never smoked.

Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin (1797-1850) was known to have been a heavy smoker. [28] When Rabbi Moses ben Israel Polier of Kobrin visited the rebbe of Ruzhin on the eve of the Sabbath, he found him with a pipe in his hand in a smoke-filled room. Noticing his guest’s surprise, the rebbe of Ruzhin told the following story. A pious Jew lost his way just as the Sabbath was about to begin. Seeing a house in front of him, he went inside. To his alarm he saw there a notorious bandit sitting at a table upon which there rested a frightening blunderbuss. The man thought: if I try to run away, the bandit will shoot me in the back, but if I stay here he will probably kill me. The only way out seemed to be to seize the gun and fire at the bandit. If I succeed in killing him, he thought, well and good. But, even if I miss, the room will be filled with smoke and I will be able to escape in the confusion. Then the rebbe of Ruzhin laid his pipe aside and said: now it is the Sabbath. Thus, for the rebbe of Ruzhin the pipe was a smoke-screen against the blandishments of the yetzer hara (the evil inclination). Smoking is a diversion, a risky indulgence through which the zaddik can gain the upper hand over his enemy, the yetzer hara.

The early hasidim undoubtedly used tobacco as an aid to concentration; their smoking was only unusual in the amount of time they allotted for it. Although tobacco was brought to Europe from the New World, where it had been used as part of the American Indian religious ceremonies, [29] the hasidim (and Western smokers in general) did not use it in this sense. Rather, the early hasidim smoked tobacco as an aid to concentration. It was only much later that the incense motif and the idea of raising holy sparks were
introduced. Zaddikim such as Hayim Halberstam of Sanz and Rabbi Israel of Ruzhin were heavy smokers, while others such as Rabbi Shalom Roke’ah of Belz and Rabbi Moses ben Zvi Teitelbaum either gave up smoking or had never smoked at all.Today, despite the acknowledged health dangers of smoking, there is no evidence that the hasidim have given up the habit, and it is too early to say if they will (a speculation equally valid for those who are not hasidim). In any event, smoking tobacco was always peripheral for the hasidim; in the hasidic literature it had no special significance.

On verse 1: “By the rivers of Babylon”, the Artscroll refers to the Midrash Pesikta Rabbati (28) where R. Johanan says that the Jewish people, accustomed to the pure water of their homeland, were now forced to drink the insanitary waters of the Euphrates from which many of them died. Here again the Artscroll fails to see the historical background to R. Johanan’s saying. To anyone with an historical sense it is obvious that R. Johanan, a Palestinian, was reading homiletically into the Biblical text the superiority, even in matters of health, of the Holy Land over Babylonia, the land of the rival Babylonian Rabbis. There are numerous instances of the Rabbis applying the Biblical texts to conditions of their own day. R. Johanan’s comment tells the historian nothing about what the Psalmist meant by “the rivers of Babylon” but everything about R. Johanan’s views, in the third century CE, regarding the desirability for Jews not to leave the Holy Land to reside in the apparently more salubrious Babylonia. It is not so, declares R. Johanan, the Holy Land is superior not only with regard to the study of the Torah but also with regard to its health-giving properties. R. Johanan’s comment has its place in a study of third-century Jewry. It has no place at all in a commentary to the Bible.

Notes1. On the halakhic problems connected with
smoking, see I. Z. Kahana, ‘Hatabak besifrut hahalakhah’, in his Mehkarim
besifrut hahalakhah (Jerusalem, 1973). The earliest discussion of these
questions is found in the works of the Turkish rabbi Hayim Benveniste
(1603-73), and Mordecai Halevy (d. 1684), who was dayan and a halakhic
authority in Cairo for more than forty years. They discuss the issue as part of
their treatment of the Turkish narghile, or hookah, in which the smoke
passes through water, hence the expression (later used for smoking a pipe and
taking snuff) ‘drinking titon’ (the Turkish (and Polish) name for
tobacco).

2. See Gershon David Hundert (ed.), Essential
Papers an Hasidism: Origins to the Present (New York, 1991), which contains
an Eng. trans. of Maimon’s account, pp. 11-24. The reference to the pipe-smoker
is on p. 17.

3. On this discussion, see the less than
adequate Eng. trans. of the Shivhei Habesht in In Praise of the Baal
Shem, trans. Dan Ben-Amos and Jerome R. Mintz (Bloomington, Ind., l970).

4. Ibid. where the Persian word is
transliterated incorrectly as lolkeh. On p. xxvi, puzzled by the
reference to ‘one lulke’ in the story related on p. 105 (no. 80), Mintz
interprets lulke to mean ‘a hand-rolled cigarette’. The lulke is really
a pipe with a long stem-a churchwarden’s pipe-and ‘one lulke’ simply
stands for a single pipeful or a single turn at the pipe. See ibid., index,
s.v. lolkeh for a list of all references to the pipe of the Besht and
others.

5. Murray J. Rosman, ‘Miedzyboz and Rabbi Israel
Baal Shem Tov’, in Hundert (ed.), Essential Papers on Hasidism.

6. Yaffa Eliach, ‘The Russian Dissenting Sects
and their Influence on Israel Baal Shem, Founder of Hasidism’, Proceedings
of the American Academy for Jewish Research, 36 (1968), 57-88, suggests
that the Baal Shem Tov’s lulke was a kind of tube filled with a far less
innocent substance than tobacco (pp. 80-1). There is no foundation for implying
that the Baal Shem Tov took drugs.

7. Mordecai Wilensky, Hasidim umitnagedim
(Jerusalem, 1970), i. 54. In the first letter quoted in Joseph Perl’s Megaleh
temirin (Vienna, 1819), 3a, an imaginary hasid tells how he handed the
zaddik his lulke but did not have the merit to light it for him.

8. Wilensky, Hasidim umitnagedim, i.
36-9. Cf. Wilensky’s index, s.v. ishun bemikteret, and his note on
hasidim and smoking on p. 39 n. 20.

9. Simeon Ze’ev of Meyenchov, ‘Doresh Tov’,
in Sefarim hakedoshim mikol talmidei habesht hakadosh, i (Brooklyn,
1980), no. 17, p. 111.

10. On the ascent of the Baal Shem Tov’s soul,
see the letter at the end of Jacob Joseph of Polonoye, Ben porat yosef
(Korzec, 1871). There is a translation of this in Louis Jacobs, Jewish
Mystical Testimonies (New York, 1977), 148-55. There is, however, no
mention that the ascent was achieved through smoking a pipe. On the ascent of
soul, see Moshe Idel, Hasidism: Between Ecstasy and Magic (Albany, NY,
1995), 104-5.

11. M. Spiegel (ed.), Tosefta lemidrash
pinhas (Lvov, 1896), no. 167, p. 16a.

12. Samuel of Shinov (Sieniawa) (ed.), Ramatayim
tsofim (Jerusalem, 1970), 51a n. 13.

13. That Jews have not used incense in the
synagogue is probably intended to distinguish worship in the synagogue from
worship in the Temple. Nevertheless, the later hasidic identification of
smoking with incense suggests that some hasidim did see smoking as similar to
the incense of the Temple. I knew a hasidic rabbi who would regularly smoke a
Turkish cigarette before reciting the afternoon prayer, in which in hasidic
practice the biblical and talmudic passages about incense are recited.

14. Abraham Isaac Sperling (ed.), Ta’amei
haminhagim umekorei hadinim (Jerusalem, n.d.), 102. Cf. Aaron Wertheim, Halakhot
vehalikhot behasidut (Jerusalem, 1960), 224-5. Wertheim, like Sperling, can
produce only very few references to smoking among hasidim.

15. On the Lurianic doctrine of the sacred
sparks, see I. Tishby, Torat hara vehakelipah bekabalat ha’ari
(Jerusalem, 1965).

16. Louis Jacobs, ‘Eating as an Act of Worship
in Hasidic Thought’, in Siegfried Stein and Raphael Loewe (eds.), Studies in
Jewish Religious and Intellectual History Presented to Alexander Altmann
(Tuscaloosa, Ala., 1979).

17. Sperling (ed.), Ta’amei haminhagim,
581.

18. Eliezer Ehrenreich (ed.), Toledot kol
aryeh (2nd edn. Brooklyn, 1976), no. 36, pp. 27-8.
19. As in kabbalistic thought generally, the
doctrine of tikun, that human activities have a cosmic effect and can
‘put right’ the flaws on high, looms large in Hasidism.

20. This is probably the meaning of the
expression po’el bedimyono.

21. Zvi Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim, xiv
(Jerusalem, 1955), no. 6, pp. 70-1.

22.
See Gershon Winkler, Dybbuk (New York, 1981), on the dybbuk and
exorcism.

23. Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim.

24.
Ibid. p. 32, nos. 8 and 9.

25. On Hayim Halberstam as a heavy smoker, see
Yosef David Weisbert, Rabenu hakadosh mizantz (Jerusalem, 1976), 197,
211, and Yosef David Weisbert, Otzar hahayim (Jerusalem, 1978), 20. In
Isaac Landau’s account in Zikaron tov (Piotrkow, 1882), 16-17, no. 17,
Isaac of Neskhiv was another hasidic rebbe who smoked in his youth but gave it
up later. This account contains a puzzling statement that when Isaac did smoke in
his youth he was advised not to use Turkish tobacco by Levi Isaac of Berdichev,
possibly because of the association with the Turkish pretender Shabbatai Zvi.
26. (Jerusalem, 1977), no. 11, pp. 8b-9a, under ga’avah.

27. Although the book was first published
anonymously, it later became known that the author was Klein, a Hungarian rabbi
with hasidic leanings, though not himself a follower of any particular zaddik.
The passage is also quoted by Moskovitch, Otzar hasipurim, no. 7, p. 31.

28. Reuben ben Zvi David (ed.), Keneset
yisra’el (Warsaw, 1905), 16.

29. See Mircea Eliade (ed.), Encyclopedia of
Religion (New York, 1987), s.v. ‘smoking’, vol. xiii, pp. 365-70, and
‘tobacco’, vol. xiv, pp. 544-6.

In his memoirs about the Netziv, yet another student of Volozhin writes:

הגר”הל [הגאון ר’ הירש ליב] כידוע לא היה קנאי, היה גם מקוראי המליץ ואף ליודעי חן היה ביתו פתוח לקרות אותו.[13]

Similarly, Rabbi Moshe Shmuel Shapiro writes:

הנצי”ב עצמו היה מקבל בכל יום את הצפירה והמליץ [ר’ משה שמואל ודורו, עמ’ 62].

Censorship in the Meishiv Davar

Shaul Stampfer writes in his excellent book ‘Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century‘ (p. 163) “Both R. Berlin and R. Hayim Soloveitchik read newspapers”. 

In a footnote he records the following:

“Rabbi Boruch Oberlander pointed out that, in the latest edition of R. Berlin’s Responsa Meshiv Davar there is a curious omission. The original reads ‘as published in Hamelits, 137 in 5687′ but in the new edition reads simply ‘as published in 5687’ (… Meshiv Davar ii. [p.]71 (responsum 8). Despite the omission in the current edition, it is clear that R. Berlin read newspapers.”[14]

My good friend Mr. Israel, upon reading this passage, consulted a copy of the first edition of Meishiv Davar, printed in 1894, and confirmed what Rabbi Oberlander said is indeed correct, the words ‘Hameilits etc.’ appear. However, when he checked another copy of  Meishiv Davar, also printed in 1894, he saw that the words ‘Hameilits etc.’ had been removed! Thus proving that this censorship took place already in 1894!

It appears that the Meishiv Davar was printed twice in 1894 and already there are differences between the two editions.

 The Mifal Bibliography Haivrit notes:

קיימות הדפסות סטיריאוטיפיות אחדות של ספר זה, ובכולן התאריך תרנ”ד. יש השמטות אחדות שונות בין הדפסה להדפסה.

 However, they do not write what the differences are, exactly. It seems we have uncovered one of them.[15]

 

Shmuel Glick, in his first volume of Kuntres Hateshuvot Hachadoshot, s.v. Meishiv Davar [p. 686 # 2498], does not make any mention of there being two versions of the 1894 edition. However, in volume three [p. 1505], Glick notes that there are different editions of Meishiv Davar and while he does mention one difference between the two editions, he does not note this particular discrepancy. [See the end of the post.]

The story does not end here. When Mr. Israel turned the page to the very next siman in the Meishiv Davar, he again noticed the same occurrence. In one edition of the 1894 Meishiv Davar [p. 73, responsum 9] it says ‘Hameliits etc.’ and in the other edition, also printed in 1894, the word ‘Hameilits‘ had been removed!

Even more interesting is that these two Teshuvot originally appeared as articles in the Hameilits newspaper!!

Additionally worth pointing out, is another mention of Hameilits newspaper in the same siman [no. 9], which was not edited out from either 1894 edition:

אבל אם בעל נפש הוא עליו לבקש תחלה מחילה ברבים באותו מקום הוא המליץ…

[Presumably, those responsible for censoring the edition mistook the word to mean ‘advocated’, not the title of the newspaper]

Images five

In 1968, the Meishiv Davar was reprinted based on the 1894 edition that included the words ‘Hameilits etc.’.

 In 2003, a volume called Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin was printed in Bnei Brak, including some letters on this same controversy [pp. 168- 174] [without saying where they are from[16]] with the words ‘Hameilits etc.’

Netziv and his Emek Ha-Netziv

Surprisingly, the story does not end here.

In an article written in 1887 by Rav Kook about the Netziv[17], he writes:

ובהיותו בן עשרים ושלש שנים כבר ראה לבו הרבה חכמה ודעת בכל מקצועות תורה שבעל פה ואז החל לכתוב ספרו הגדול על הספרי חמדה גנוזה עמו עד היום… הננו מעוררים בזה את כבוד הגאון שליט”א לזכות את הרבים מתופשי התורה בהוצאת הספר היקר הזה לאור עולם ולהאיר עיני רבים ממבקשי הדעת [כנסת ישראל, בעריכת ש’ ראבינוויץ, ווארשא תרמ”ח, עמ’ 140(=מאמרי הראי”ה, עמ’ 124)].

However, the Netziv’s Pirush on Sifrei,[18] entitled Emek Ha-Netziv was first printed from manuscript only in 1959-1969. In the first volume the Netziv quotes the “Zofeh Le-hamagid Year ten, issue 28″. Gil Perl already notes that this is the edition of the Ha -Maggid printed on July 17, 1867.[19] Although Perl noted other cases of censorship in the Emek Ha-Netziv, this source was not censored.[20] We see here clearly that the Netziv read newspapers and even referenced them in his work.

Netziv and his Ha’amek Davar                   
          

In 1879, the Netziv printed his classic work on chumash, Ha’amek Davar,[21] based on the Shiurim he gave after Davening.[22] In his Pirush to Parshat Bereishis (2:9), he quotes a manuscript of R’ Maimon (father of the Rambam) which he had seen printed in Ha-Levonon.

In 1937, Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan printed a collection of almost one thousand and five hundred addenda by the Netziv to his Ha’amek Davar[23] [available here]. On page seven, Netziv quotes the newspaper Ha-tzefirah. Furthermore, Gil Perl points to some additional passages in Ha’amek Davar that seem to be based on material from the newspapers of the time.[24] From all the above, we see him reading newspapers.[25]

Censorship and the Ha’amek Davar

In 1999, a new edition of the Ha’amek Davar was printed incorporating many more corrections.[26] They inserted the numerous addenda published by Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan into their proper places in the chumash. However two pieces were censored out – both of the aforementioned quotes by the Netziv,[27] citing these newspapers!

In 2005, Rabbi Mordechai Cooperman reprinted the Ha’amek Davar; with annotations, his edition does contain both newspaper references.

More on the Netziv and newspapers

In 2003, a volume called Igrot HaNetziv Me-Volozhin was printed in Bnei Brak this volume is full of references and articles by the Netziv from different newspapers of the time.[28]

In Meishiv Davar 1:44 there is a piece titled: “Al Yamin vsmal’.[29] This siman was actually first printed in the newspaper Machzike Hadat[30] and as can be seen from the introductory paragraphs, it was a response to an earlier article that the Netziv had read in that newspaper.

Appendix: Some other Gedolim who read Newspapers