Reuven Elitzur, Saul Lieberman, and Response to Criticism, part 2

Reuven Elitzur, Saul Lieberman, and Response to Criticism, part 2

Marc B. Shapiro

Since I mentioned R. Reuven Elitzur in my post here, let me note two other interesting items from his posthumously published book, Degel Mahaneh Reuven. On pp. 304-305 we learn that when Elitzur studied in Ponovezh, one of the students joined the Irgun. When some other students found out about this, they grabbed the Irgun student one night, covered his head with a blanket, and beat him terribly. The result of this was that the student not only left the yeshiva, but abandoned religion entirely. Only many years later, due to Elitzur’s influence, did he begin to again observe Shabbat.

I also found this story, on page 311, of interest.

 

We see that Elitzur was in the United States at the time of the great fire at the Jewish Theological Seminary library in April 1966. From the passage we see that he would eat his breakfast at JTS.[1] It could mean that he brought his own breakfast with him, or it could also mean that he ate the breakfast in the Seminary cafeteria. If the latter, it could mean that he only ate the cornflakes or that he even ate cooked items. It is interesting that a text with such ambiguity, and thus liable to create “problems,” appeared in a haredi work. I therefore assume that the grandchildren who put the book together did not understand the significance of where the fire had taken place, namely, that it is not an Orthodox institution.[2]

Regarding Orthodox rabbis visiting the Jewish Theological Seminary, in R. Aharon Rakeffet-Rothkoff’s memoir, he tells the following story about R. Moshe Bick:

Meeting such a figure [R. Bick] in the Seminary library made me feel awkward. Utilizing the rabbinic aphorism, I asked the good rabbi: “What is a kohein doing in a cemetery?” . . . With a kindly smile embracing his face, the Bronx spiritual leader immediately responded: “If the Seminary possesses rare and invaluable rabbinic texts, they must also be available to all Torah scholars. The Seminary cannot withhold these treasures from Klal Yisrael.”[3]

In R. Pinchas Lifshitz, Peninei Hen (Monsey, 2000), pp. 99-100, there is a 1929 letter from R. Shimon Shkop to Cyrus Adler, Chancellor of the Jewish Theological Seminary. In this letter, R. Shkop mentions meeting Adler at his Seminary office, at which time he spoke to him about the difficult financial situation of his yeshiva, Sha’ar ha-Torah in Grodna.

Regarding the Seminary, Nochum Shmaryohu Zajac called my attention to this video. In his discussion with Dr. Dov Zlotnick, we see the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s positive attitude towards Saul Lieberman (which I already mentioned in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox).[4] It appears, however, that the Rebbe was confusing Lieberman and Louis Finkelstein when he referred to Lieberman’s connection to Torat Kohanim, and that he wrote he’arot and mar’eh mekomot to it. Torat Kohanim, otherwise known as the Sifra, was in fact Finkelstein’s great project.[5]

Another teacher at JTS was R. Abraham Sofer, who published the Meiri. A number of letters from the Lubavitcher Rebbe to him are included in Menahem Meshiv Nafshi (Jerusalem, 2012).

Here is vol. 2, p. 608.

I am quite surprised that R. Sofer is described as a “maggid shiur” at בית מדרש לרבנים. Is it possible that the editors did not realize that בית מדרש לרבנים is not an Orthodox institution?

Returning to Lieberman, in my post here I noted that Genazim u-She’elot u-Teshuvot Hazon Ish, vol. 2, published a lengthy letter from Lieberman to the Hazon Ish. Subsequent to that post, volume 3 of this series appeared, and beginning on page 319 we have two lengthy letters from the Hazon Ish responding to what Lieberman wrote. He begins with the following words which present a traditional perspective in opposition to the academic approach of Lieberman.

אם אמנם הבלשנות ותרגום המילים נוטל חלק בתורה שבעפ לאחר שנתנה לכתובאבל הרצים אחריה מדה ואינה מדהואין התורה מצוי‘ בין אלה שעושים את מלאכתם קבע ואת עיון העמוק עראית או אינם מתעמלים בו כללולאלה שעמלים בתורה אין פרי עבודתם של חוקרי הלשון מועיל רק לעיתים רחוקותובדברים קלי ערךומגמת המתעמל להתוכן ולא לתרגום המלה שהוא בבחינת תיק

I think readers will also find interesting a letter in the Lieberman archives at the Jewish Theological Seminary of America. I was alerted to this by Ariel Fuss.[6] Max Rowe represented the Rothschild Trust which awarded four monetary gifts to outstanding rabbinic scholars. Rowe turned to Lieberman for his recommendations on who should receive the awards. Although today everyone knows about the greatness of R. Hayyim Kanievsky, we see that Lieberman was aware of this fifty years ago, and recommended him for the grant. He even regarded R. Hayyim as greater than his father, the Steipler. Of all the significant figures Lieberman could have suggested, it is fascinating to see whom he chose.

I still have a good deal to write about Lieberman, as I have collected a lot of new material since the publication of Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox. For now, here is a picture of a young Lieberman and his wife, Judith, that has never before appeared in print or online. I thank Professor Meir Bar-Ilan for sending it to me.

* * * * * *

Continued from hereLet us resume with Grossman’s review, going page by page. First, I must thank everyone who wrote to me offering support. Many of these people are in the haredi world and have been reading my material for years, and others have listened to my Torah in Motion classes. They all knew that I had never mocked rishonim and aharonim,[7] an accusation I referred to as “slander”.[8] A number of people asked me how to explain why Grossman so mischaracterized my book, as it certainly wasn’t intentional. My response to them was that if you come to a task with a preconceived negative view, on a mission of destruction, then you will not be able to judge a book fairly. You won’t even realize how you are not being fair, and this in turn will lead to all sorts of mistakes. In the introduction to the Guide of the Perplexed, the Rambam addresses readers of his book:

If anything in it [the Guide], according to his way of thinking appears to be in some way harmful, he should interpret it, even if in a far-fetched way, in order to pass a favorable judgment. For as we are enjoined to act in this way toward our vulgar ones, all the more should this be so with respect to our erudite ones and the sages of our Law who are trying to help us to the truth as they apprehend it.

What the Rambam is saying is that readers should give authors the benefit of the doubt, and only if an author is clearly incorrect should one then feel comfortable expressing criticism. He says that we should act this way even “toward our vulgar ones,” the category that I and so many others would best be placed in, rather than in the category of the “erudite” and “sages of our Law.”

Unfortunately, Grossman was not careful in the way he wrote. R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach already warned us about the problems that arise from this, with a nice witticism:[9]

ואפילו בכתבי הדיוט אומרים בעלי הלצה השמר פן [פען הוא בלשון יהודי פולין שם לקולמספעדערוהוא מלשון רומית Penna. הערת המולכי אא לפרש דבריו או להתנצל בהם עי חסר או יתור או חלוף מלה כמו שעשה יעשה באמרי פיו.

Another relevant witticism is mentioned by Samson Bloch [10], that the word מבקר (reviewer or critic) stands for מתכבד בקלון רעהו.  

On pp. 38-39, Grossman quotes me as saying that the Rambam’s conception of Ikkarim was an innovation, and that this is not just something mentioned by academics but is also found in traditional writings. There is nothing controversial in this statement, and as many readers know, Rambam was criticized for having too many Principles (R. Joseph Albo) or for having too few (R. Isaac Abarbanel).

Grossman writes (p. 39):

Shapiro writes this despite the fact that an array of classic scholars, among them Alshich, R. Moshe Chagiz, Beney Yisoschar and Mabit believe otherwise. The latter, in a section of his Beys Elokim devoted to the Principles, begins his discussion with this comment. “All the main Principles of the Torah and its beliefs are either explicit or hinted at in Torah, Prophets, the Hagiographa, and in the words of Chazal received from a tradition; in particular, the three Principles which include them all.”

All this is completely irrelevant to what I have said. The issue is not whether the Rambam’s Principles can find support in the Torah, Prophets, Hagiography, or Chazal. Of course Rambam can find support for his Principles in earlier sources. What I and everyone else (rishonimaharonim, and academic scholars) are speaking about is something entirely different. It is whether the Rambam’s specific conception of Principles of Faith – that belief in the Principles, despite all other sins, are enough to ensure a share in the World to Come, and denial or doubt of a Principle, despite one’s piety and halakhic punctiliousness, will prevent one from having a share in the World to Come  is found in any other source before the Rambam. I also stated that no one before the Rambam had picked thirteen specific Principles as the basis of Judaism. As far as I know, every single rishon who wrote about the Principles agrees with this point. Unfortunately, Grossman once again completely misunderstands what I have stated.

Grossman writes (pp. 39-40):

Nothing shows more clearly that the Rambam based his Principles upon the Talmud than the fact that in Hilchos Teshuvah [3:6-8], he lists the various heretics under three classifications: min, apikores and kofer baTorah, all of whom lose their share in the World to Come. Obviously, each group violates a particular fundamental of faith, or else why would they be listed separately? Shapiro explains this by saying: “For his own conceptual reasons which have no talmudic basis, Maimonides distinguishes between the epikorus, the min and the kofer batorah.” [Limits of Orthodox Theology, p. 8 n. 27] But these terms are not, as Shapiro would have them, the Rambam’s inventions. They are taken from an explicit passage of the Talmud in Rosh ha-Shanah 17a which lists these three classes of heretics as those who lose their portion in the World to Come. They are obviously not a product of Rambam’s ‘conceptual reasons.’”

Every reader should be able to see Grossman’s error. Contrary to what Grossman attributes to me, I did not say that the terms epikorus, min, and kofer ba-Torah are the Rambam’s inventions based on his “conceptual reasons.” (He must think I am really ignorant as he assumes that I do not know that the terms epikorus and min are found in the Talmud.) What I said was that the way the Rambam distinguishes between these categories is based on his own conceptual reasons. In other words, why do certain heresies fall into the category of epikorus, others into the category of min, and others into kofer ba-Torah. For some heresies, we can see that the Talmud refers to the holders of these views as minim, but for others, it is the Rambam who determined the divisions, and we cannot find a talmudic basis. There is also no consistency in the Rambam’s own writings for what is included in the category of min.[11]

R. Nachum Rabinovitch writes as follows in his Yad Peshutah to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:8, in discussing how the Rambam determined who is placed in the category of epikorus (as opposed to say, kofer ba-Torah). What I have underlined is particularly important. Is Grossman now going to be attacking R. Rabinovitch?

כאן שרצה רבינו לחלק בין כופרים שונים לפי מושגים יסודייםלפיכך השתמש במונח אפיקורוס לא כפי הוראתו הרחבה בדברי חזל שהשווהו למלה ארמית אשר שרשה פקראלא כפי מובנו בתולדות הפילוסופיהדהיינומן הכת של הוגה הדעות היווני אפיקורוס . . . על כן הגביל את המונה אפיקורוס למי שכופר בהשגחהזאת אומרתמכחיש שד‘ יודעוממילא כופר גם באפשרות שה‘ מודיע לבני אדם ובתוכם גם משה רבינונמצא שהמונח מין מיוחד לאמונות כוזבות על הבורא עצמוואפיקורס מיוחד לדעות נפסדות על יחס הבורא לאדם


I refer to R. Rabinovitch’s commentary in Limits, p. 9 n. 27, right after the passage cited by Grossman which he misunderstood and found so objectionable. Had he examined what R. Rabinovitch wrote, he might not have misunderstood what I was saying.

In this note I also refer to Menachem Kellner, Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought, pp. 20-21. On p. 21, Kellner writes: “Maimonides does not carefully distinguish among the terms sectarian, epikoros, and denier.”

I also refer to R. Yitzhak Shilat, who in his note in Iggerot ha-Rambam, vol. 1, pp. 38-39, after discussing the different ways the Rambam refers to heretics in his various works, writes as follows with reference to the term min:

ונראה שהסבר הדבר הואשבהלכות תשובה נכנס הרמבם לחלוקה תיאורטית של סוגי הכפירה השוניםושם הוא מייחד את המונח מין” לסוג מסוים של כפירהדהיינו לכפירה באחד מעיקרי אמונת האלהותאך במובן יותר מעשי ורחב הוא משתמש במונח מינות” לכל כפירה באחד מיסודי האמונה (ובהפניה מהל‘ שחיטה להל‘ תשובה התכוון לכל סוגי הכופרים המנויים שם)

.ואכןהרחבת מושג המינות” והחלתו על כל כפירה באחד מיסידי האמונהמפורשת בדברי הרמבם במקומות אחדים . . . הרחבה נוספת של השימוש במונח מין” אנו מוצאים בהמשך דברי הרמבם

נמצאנו למדים שהרמבם משתמש במונח מינות” לא פחות מאשר בשלושה מובניםזה רחב מזהאכפירה ביסודי האמונה השייכים למציאות ה‘. בכפירה באחד מכל יסודי האמונהגכפירה בתורה שבעל פה


As the reader can see, R. Shilat explains how when it came to categorizing heresy, the Rambam used “his own conceptual reasons.”

In my note in Limits (p. 9 n. 27) I did not refer to R. Kafih’s commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, but it is also important regarding this matter. After mentioning those who questioned why the Rambam included what he did in the category of epikorus, seeing that various talmudic passages define an epikorus differently, R. Kafih states that this matter is easily explained, namely, the Rambam is not using the term epikorus the way it is used in the Talmud. Rather, he is using the Greek term, and placing into this category those heresies that can be identified with Epicurean philosophy.

ולפיכך כל מה שמקשים על דברי רבנו כאן מאפיקורוסים שונים שנאמרו בשסלקמכי שם מדובר בהטית המלה העברית הפקר בלבושה הארמי אפקירותאוכאן מדובר במלה שמקורה יוני עש אפיקורוס

R. Kafih explains further in his commentary to Mishneh Torah, Sefer Nezikin, p. 594:

שכל שבוש תעיה וכפירה השייכים לאלהות נקרא מיןוכל תעייה שבוש וסטייה השייכים לנבואה נקרא אפיקורוסובנדפס טרפו וערבבום יחד

R. Judah Albotini does not even think that we should pay the distinctions the Rambam gives to the different types of heretics much mind, as the different terms are “lav davka”.[12]

ואפילו הרב זל בעצמו משנה דבריו בהם כי פה כתב שהמינים הם אלו הה‘ שמות (ובס‘) [ובהלכותרוצח שהמין הוא העובד עז או האוכל נבלות להכעיס ובה‘ עירובין קרא לישראל העובד עז שהוא כגוי ולא קראו מין וקרא מינים לצדוק ובייתוס וכל הכופרים בתורה שבעל פה ולאלו קרא בכאן כופרים הרי לך שכל אלה השמות לאו דוקא קאמר אלא עד העברה

The most detailed discussion of how the Rambam categorizes the various types of heretics is found in Hannah Kasher, Al ha-Minim, Ha-Apikorsim, ve-ha-Kofrim be-Mishnat ha-Rambam. This book appeared in 2011, too late to be mentioned in Limits. On p. 15 she writes (emphasis added):

הרמבם לעתים הציע הגדרה מכוננת למונחיםוקבע כיצד לטעמו יש להשתמש בהם מעתה ואילך. . . הרמבם המיר לעתים באופן רדיקלי את משמעותו של המונח המסורתי ויצק לתוכו תוכן שונה.

On pp. 40-42, Grossman deals with my suggestion that the Rambam abandoned his Thirteen Principles of Faith as the summation of Jewish dogma in favor of his more detailed formulation in the Mishneh Torah. In support of this suggestion I point out that not only does the Rambam pretty much ignore the Thirteen Principles in his later works, but in discussing what to teach a convert, he also does not mention the Thirteen Principles. (Regarding converts, he only states that they should be instructed in the oneness of God and the prohibition of idolatry.) I also note that both R. Joseph Schwartz and R. Shlomo Goren argued that in his later years the Rambam no longer felt tied to his early formulation of the Thirteen Principles. Readers should examine Limits for more details. My thoughts in this matter were in the way of a suggestion, not an absolute conclusion, that I thought worthy of bringing to the attention of readers.

In response to my point that when evaluating the significance of the Thirteen Principles for the Rambam it is noteworthy that he does not require a future convert to be taught these Principles, Grossman states that the Rambam derived his ruling, that the convert is instructed in the oneness of God and prohibition of idolatry (but not other Principles), from the talmudic recounting (Yevamot 47b) of the dialogue between Naomi and Ruth: Naomi says that Jews are prohibited to serve idolatry, and Ruth replies “Your God is my God.”

The Rambam understands this discussion as referring to the Principles of idolatry and God’s unity. Apparently, adopting these two Principles is the essence of conversion to Judaism. These might be a mere sample of other laws and ideas that we also mention—as implied by the Rambam’s concluding phrase [Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2], “and we elaborate (u-ma’arichin) on this.” The Rambam is codifying that which the Talmud prescribes as integral to the conversion process, thus, one cannot ask why the Rambam did not mention other Principles of faith—which is a different topic entirely.

This is a perfect example of how Grossman’s review could have been written, namely, present my points and then explain why he reads the texts differently and why my reading is forced, inconsistent with what the Rambam says elsewhere or with the Rambam’s sources, or just flat out wrong because I misread a text. In this case, I would only note that I still believe that my point about the Rambam not returning to the Thirteen Principles in his later works, even when he discusses the fundamentals of faith, is more than a little curious and leads to my original suggestion that at the time he wrote the Mishneh Torah he had adopted a more detailed list of required beliefs.

As for the matter of conversion, what about the Third Principle? For the Rambam, belief in divine corporeality is a denial of God’s existence, since a corporeal god is not God. Therefore, according to the Rambam, this is something that everyone, from childhood, needs to be instructed in.[13] Belief in divine corporeality usually turns into a form of idolatry, since one who worships a corporeal god is worshipping something other than God.[14] Thus, it is obvious that according to the Rambam instruction about God’s incorporeality would be part of the instruction about the unity of God. However, Principles 4-13 are not included in a convert’s instruction, even though in his Commentary to the Mishnah, when he lists the Thirteen Principles, the Rambam states that all the Principles are obligatory beliefs. It is these missing Principles of faith that I have wondered about, and asked why the Rambam did not require a convert to be instructed in them. Grossman’s explanation for this is that since the only theological matters the Talmud requires instructing a convert in are God’s unity and the prohibition of idolatry, the Rambam would not add to this on his own.

Grossman continues by stating that I am operating under

a misconception of the structure of the Rambam’s work. The Rambam himself states explicitly in his letters—and so it is axiomatic to Torah scholars—that he never made a statement in his Mishneh Torah which did not have a source in the Talmud. Whenever he records his personal opinion, he prefaces it with the words, yeyra’eh li—“it would appear to me.” Anything in his Mishneh Torah that seems different from the Talmud is due to the Rambam’s unique interpretation of the particular passage of Talmud. Thus, the question, “If the Rambam added to the Talmudic prescription, why did he not add the other Principles?” is not applicable. . . . The Rambam is codifying that which the Talmud prescribes as integral to the conversion process, thus, one cannot ask why the Rambam did not mention other Principles of faith—which is a different subject entirely. (pp. 41-42)

Before getting to Grossman’s major criticism, let’s clear up some inaccuracies. The Rambam does not say in his letter to R. Pinhas ha-Dayan, referred to by Grossman (Iggerot ha-Rambam, ed. Shilat, vol. 2, p. 443), that everything in the Mishneh Torah comes from the Talmud. He mentions the Talmud, but he also mentions halakhic Midrash and Tosefta. He then says that if something comes from the Geonim, he indicates so. Furthermore, and this is a very important point, the Rambam is speaking about halakhic matters, that for these there is always a prior rabbinic source.[15]

To say, as Grossman does without further clarification, that the Rambam “never made a statement in his Mishneh Torah” that has no talmudic source is simply incorrect. There are a number of statements in the Mishneh Torah dealing with science and philosophy for which there are no talmudic sources, a point that has been noted by the traditional commentaries. At the end of Hilkhot Kiddush ha-Hodesh, ch. 17, the Rambam tells us that the astronomical information he provides comes from Greek texts, as the Jewish writings on these matters were lost. Many who have studied this section of the Mishneh Torah have wondered if this is to be regarded as Torah study? R. Hayyim Kanievsky cites the Hazon Ish who is quoted as saying that despite the Greek origin of this information, once the Rambam included it in his book it became Torah.[16]

ואמרו בשם מרן החזוא זצל שאעפ שהרמבם העתיק החשבונות שבפרקים האחרונים של קהח מהגוים כמשכ בספיז ממ אחר שהרמבם כתבם נעשה תורה ממש והלומדם לומד תורה

R. Jacob Kamenetsky states[17] that most of what appears in the first four chapters of Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah, which the Rambam viewed as basic to Judaism, is not to be regarded as Torah but as פילוסופיא בעלמא.

ובעל כרחנו אנו צריכין לומר שמה שמסר לנו הרמבם בפרקים אלו אין זה לא מעשה מרכבה ולא מעשה בראשיתאלא כתב כל הד‘ פרקים אלה מדעתו הרחבה מתוך ידיעות בחכמות חיצוניותכלומר שלא מחכמת התורהאלא הרי זה פילוסופיא בעלמא – ונאמר שכבר השיג עליו הגרא ביוד סי‘ קע”ט סקיג שהפילוסופיא הטתו ברוב לקחה ועיישוהרמבם כתב פרקים אלו רק בתור הקדמה לספר יד החזקהועיקר הספר מתחיל מפרק ה‘: כל בית ישראל מצווין על קידוש השם וכו‘, ואין לדמות טעויות בהלכות אלו לטעיות בהלכות שבת וכדומה


R. Tzadok ha-Kohen even states that some of the historical information that the Rambam provides at the beginning of the Mishneh Torah is not based on earlier rabbinic sources, but is the Rambam’s own suppositions.[18]

וראיתי להרמב”ם בהקדמת ספר היד מנה סדר הקבלה ממרע”ה עד עזרא כ”ב דורות . . . ואם קבלה נקבל אבל כמדומני כי מסברא והשערת הלב לבד הוא שאמר זה שהרי בהקדמתו לפירוש המשניות כתב רק עד ירמי’ . . . הנה לא הי’ נודע לו עדיין סדר מבואר רק שבעת שחיבר ספר היד המציא מנפשו לכוין סדר מ’ דור מימות משרע”ה עד רב אשי והמציא סדר קבלה מנפשו וכתבו סתם כאלו קבלה היא בידו, אבל באמת יש להשיב ולטעון הרבה על דבריו

Let us now return to Grossman’s main point, which is to discount my question as to why the Rambam does not mention the Thirteen Principles when it comes to converts. He states that there is no talmudic source requiring this, and that if I understood what the Mishneh Torah is about I never would have had this question.[19]

The problem with the way Grossman writes about this is that although he wants people to see that my question shows that I am an amateur, in so doing he ends up disrespecting many great Torah scholars. When I wrote my book, I did not know of anyone else who raised this question, so it looks like it is original to me (and Grossman can therefore use it as part of his attack). However, subsequent to the book’s publication, I have found a number of others who wonder the same thing I did. While I might not understand how the Mishneh Torah works, is Grossman comfortable saying the same thing about the Torah scholars I shall now mention?

R. Hayyim Sofer writes as follows, with reference to the issue of conversion:[20]

והדבר נפלא הלא יש י”ג עיקרי הדת והי’ לו לב”ד להאריך בכל השרשים

R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, author of the multi-volume commentary on the Mishneh TorahMishnat Yaakov, writes as follows in his comment on Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2.

צע למה כתב הרמבם עיקרי הדת שהוא ייחוד השם ואיסור עכוםולמה לא כתב כל היג עיקרים שכתבן בפירוש במשניות בפי דסנהדריןוזלשעיקרי דתנו ויסודותיה שלשה עשר יסודותוראה שם בהמשך הדבריםולמה כתב כאןעיקרי הדת שהוא ייחוד השם ואיסור עכוםוצעג

R. Rosenthal sees it as a real difficulty that the Principles are not mentioned. I am sure he would not be bothered, as I am not, by what the Rambam writes in his letter to R. Pinhas ha-Dayan, for we are not dealing here with a technical halakhic matter, but with the basis of Jewish faith, and it is not at all an ignorant question to wonder why the Rambam did not include the Principles. On the very first page of his commentary to Sefer ha-Madda, R. Rosenthal also notes the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah, something that surely cries out for explanation.

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמבם בספרו היד החזקה” את הענין הזה של יג עיקרי האמונהוצע

R. Hayyim Amsalem also feels the need to explain why the Rambam does not require instructing converts in the Thirteen Principles:[21]

ולכן לא הצריך גם הרמבם יג עיקרים כולם שאם מודיעים לו איסור עז ויחוד השם די בהודעה הזו עם מה שבא להסתפח בנחלת ה‘ ובשם ישראל יכנהואין מקום לפשפש יותר מדי בעניינים האלו כמו ענייני האמונה אשר מי יאמר זכיתי לבבי

R. Iddo Pachter writes:[22]

בהלכות איסורי ביאה ידבכשהרמבם מציב את העיקרים כראש וכעיקר הנושאים המלמדים את הגרהוא אומר: “ומודיעין אותו עיקרי הדתשהוא ייחוד השם ואיסורי עכוםומאריכין בדבר הזה.” ואילו את העיקרים אחרים של התורה והגמול אין הרמבם מזכיר כללונשאלת השאלהלמה השמיט במקום מרכזי זה של כניסה לכלל ישראל את שאר הדוגמות המהוות תנאי לכניסה

Grossman can still argue that all of these sources are misguided in even raising the issue of why converts are not instructed in the Thirteen Principles. Yet I think we should all agree that this is a matter that reasonable people can disagree about, and it should not be used an example to show the world that I am clueless about the Mishneh Torah. Grossman might not think it is a big deal, but many readers will agree with me that the fact that the Rambam would allow someone to convert without being taught all Thirteen Principles is quite noteworthy.

R. Yisrael Meir writes:[23]

הרי שבשעת גירות איצ לדעת כל היג עיקריןאבל אחכ אם יכפור הז אין לו חלק לעוהב.

Just as the convert does not know all the halakhot, and on the very first Shabbat might make mistakes, so too, according to the Rambam’s instructions about conversion, he will not know all the Principles of Faith. There are endless halakhot and it is not feasible to have a convert become an expert in every area of halakhah. Yet the Principles of Faith are not that many, and contrary to Grossman, I reject the notion that the Rambam would have needed an explicit talmudic text to require this, as he viewed it as basic to Judaism.[24]

Relevant to what we have been discussing, R. Dovid Cohen writes as follows in the seventh volume of his book of questions, Ve-Im Tomar, p. 14, no. 216.[25]


When the questions are not his own, R. Cohen is always careful to record his source. This is a very admirable trait that we should all take to heart. Here is p. 77 no. 216, where he provides the source of the question.

 

While I am honored to be mentioned, I think that R. Cohen wrote this from memory. I say this since in the book I ask why the Rambam does not mention anything about teaching a prospective convert the Thirteen Principles. I don’t ask this question about talmudic sages.[26]

Before concluding this section of my reply, I want to return to a point I made in the book (p. 7), that the Rambam’s formulation that a convert be instructed in theological matters is something the Rambam added on his own without a specific talmudic source. Grossman rejects this and notes that the Vilna Gaon and others see the Rambam’s source as Yevamot 47b, where Naomi is recorded as telling Ruth that Jews are prohibited in idolatry, and Ruth responded that “your God is my God”.

The first thing I would say is that I am not certain if in this case the Vilna Gaon sees this as the source for the Rambam, or if he is simply citing a source that can be brought in support of what the Rambam, followed by the Shulhan Arukh, write. Chaim Tchernowitz writes about the Gaon’s commentary:[27]

לפעמים הוא מוצא לדין השוע סמך או רמז בכתוב עצמודבר שלא עלה על דעת שום איש ואף לא על דעת אותו המחבר בעצמואחד מן האחרוניםשהמציא את הדין או המנהג ההוא על דעת עצמועל סמך דיוק בגמרא או באיזה ראשון שהמציא בפלפולווהגרא מראה לדין זה מקור מן התורהמן הנביאים או מן הכתובים או מתרגומים עתיקים על פי רמז דק מן הדק


Let me illustrate this question by one example. If you look at Shulhan Arukh, Orah Hayyim 1:1, R. Moses Isserles is citing the Guide of the Perplexed. The Vilna Gaon, who knew the Guide and thus knew the basis of R. Isserles’ formulation, still cites talmudic passages as the source for R. Isserles, or perhaps we should say, as the the source for the Rambam. Does this mean that the Gaon is telling us that the Rambam’s statement in the Guide is actually based on the talmudic passages the Gaon cites? 

Nevertheless, even if the Gaon is not citing Yevamot 47b as the actual source of the Rambam’s requirement for theological instruction for a convert (and I am not sure about this), there are indeed others who do cite this text, so Grossman’s point is well taken.

My response to this is that there are also authorities who do not identify Yevamot 47b as the Rambam’s source, and who instead see the Rambam’s mention of the necessity of instruction of converts in theological truths as something the Rambam added on his own, and not based on any talmudic text. Rather, they believe that the Rambam regarded the necessity of theological instruction as so basic and implicit that there does not need to be a specific talmudic text as a source. This is a dispute among the commentators, so it makes no sense to criticize me for advocating one side of this debate. Before citing some traditional authorities, let me first mention what my teacher, Professor Isadore Twersky, said about this matter. I realize that Grossman, who is not positively inclined to academic scholars, does not need to accept Twersky’s opinion any more than mine, but at least readers will see that nothing I have said is from left field, as it were.

In his Introduction to the Code of Maimonides, pp. 474-475 (and note 293), Twersky states that the notion that “every phrase and nuance of the MT is explicit in some source” is “misleading. It fails to acknowledge the interpretative-derivative aspects of the MT.

Twersky also rejects the notion that the instructions in theology given to a convert are based on a particular talmudic passage (the very point on which Grossman criticized me):

Maimonides’ description of the procedure of conversion to Judaism vividly reflects his uniform insistence upon the indispensability of knowledge of the theoretical bases and theological premises of religion. A potential convert must be carefully informed about Judaism and instructed in its ritualistic patterns and, most emphatically, its metaphysics, its dogmatic principles—Maimonides emphasizes that the latter must be presented at great length. Now the need to expatiate concerning the theological foundations, in contradistinction to the ritual commandments, is not mentioned in the Talmud. Some scholars were inclined to assume that Maimonides found these details in his text of the tractate Gerim, inasmuch as a few other variants can be traced to this source, but this seems to be a gratuitous assumption. Given the Maimonidean stance, this emphasis is a logical corollary or even a self-evident component of the underlying text, which stipulates that the convert be informed about “some commandments.” . . . As a matter of fact, the entire presentation bristles with suggestive Maimonidean novelties which should not be glossed over and obscured.[28]

It is easy to say that I have a “misconception of the structure of the Rambam’s work.” Will Grossman say the same thing about Twersky?[29]

R. Baruch Rabinovich, Heishev Nevonim, ed. R. Nosson Dovid Rabinowich, pp. 13-14 (emphasis added), explicitly rejects Yevamot 47b as the Rambam’s source, and makes the exact same point I did about the Rambam not needing an explicit talmudic source for his statement that a convert is given theological instruction.

בביאור הגרא (שםמציין כמקור לדברי הרמבם אלו ליבמות (מז: ) לדרשת רבי אלעזר מאי קראה וכו‘ שאמרה נעמי לרות אסיר לן עז” ועל זה השיבה רות ואלוקיך אלקי (רות פא פטז) – אבל אין הכרח לומר שמשם לומד הרמבם דין זה אלא שהרמבם מסברא דנפשי‘ פסק כךכמושכל ראשוןשאין גרות ואין שייכות ליהדותכל עוד אין אמונה בייחוד ה‘, והסתייגות מעזוכן דעת ההמבכל אופן מש ומאריכין עמו דבר הזה“, אין זה המקור [!] אלא מסברא דנפשי.

Grossman can reject R. Rabinovich’s statement, but he cannot say that R. Rabinovich did not understand “the structure of the Rambam’s work.”

A commentary on the Mishneh Torah that I often turn to is R. Asher Feuchtwanger’s Asher la-Melekh. He writes as follows in his comment to Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2 (emphasis added):

רוב דברי רבנו בפרק הזה מתחלתו עד הלכה ו‘ ועד בכללמקורן בברייתא המובאת יבמות מזאך הודעת עיקרי היהדות לא הוזכרה כללואכ מנל לרבנו לקבוע כן


R. Feuchtwanger goes on to offer an original solution. Does this mean that he too did not recognize the structure of the Mishneh Torah?

In fact, we don’t need to look at twentieth-century commentaries on the Mishneh Torah to make this point. Right on the page, the Maggid Mishneh states:

ומאריכין בדבר זהבייחוד השם ובאיסור עז שאינו מבואר שם שיאריכו עמו בזה אבל הדבר פשוט שכיון שאלו הם עיקרי הדת והאמונה צריך להודיעם בברור ולהאריך עמם בזה שהוא עיקר היהדות והגירות

On the Rambam’s words, Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2, that we instruct the convert in basic theology, R. Masud Hai Rakah, Ma’aseh Rakah, ad loc., writes: זה לא הוזכר בברייתא.

In R. Shlomo Tzadok’s commentary to Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2, he writes:

ומודיעין אותו עיקרי הדתאף שהודעה זו לא נזכרה בשסרבינו סבור שיסוד ועיקר זההוא דבר המובן מאליו שצריך להודיעו תחלה

Even after all we have seen, it is possible that Grossman is correct, and all the sources I have cited are mistaken. My only point in citing them is to show that nothing I have said in this matter should be regarded as far-fetched or ignorant, as I offered a reasonable approach to an often-discussed text.

To be continued

Notes

[1] Regarding the Seminary library (or any other Conservative institution), R. Moshe Feinstein was asked if one must return books to them, even if the books will not be used at the institution and the person who has them will learn from them. He replied that “it is forbidden for us to permit gezeilah or geneivah.” See Yad Moshe, p. 86. See, however, R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot 17:155, who writes:

ומיהו היכא דשאל ספר מספריה שהם רשעים ואפיקורסים ויכול עי איזה ערמה לעשות שלא להחזיר יש לעיין בדברדבסדעת זקנים מבעלי התוספות עהת פ‘ תולדות עהפ ויבז עשו את הבכורה כתבו וזלפי‘ מכבר היה מבזה אותה ועל כן לקחה יעקב ממנוונמצא בספר ר‘ יהודה החסיד מכאן אתה למד שאם יש ביד רשע סת או מצוה אחרת דמותר לצדיק לרמותו וליטלו ממנו עכולפז היכא דישנם ספרים ביד רשעים ואפיקורסים מותר לרמאותםולפז כש שאם לוה ולא החזיר בזמנו ויכול לרמותו דלא מיבעיא דלא נפסל לעדות אלא מותר לעשות כן לכתחילהולדינא צע

 

[2] In the days before hebrewbooks.org and Otzar ha-Hokhmah, I often visited the JTS library. It was common to see Orthodox Jews with impeccable standards of kashrut, who would not eat food served in a Conservative synagogue, eating in the Seminary cafeteria.
[3] From Washington Avenue to Washington Street (Jerusalem, 2011), pp. 67-68. I personally was in the Seminary rare book room together with the late R. Ephraim Fishel Hershkowitz.
[4]  Regarding Lieberman and Chabad, see here p. 38, where we see that in 1982 Lieberman sent a check for $1000 to Chabad’s Merkos Leinyanei Chinuch. On p. 39, a section of his will  is published which shows that he left $10,000 for this same charity. This was called to my attention by Nochum Shmaryohu Zajac.

Zlotnick’s loyalty to his rebbe, Lieberman, was legendary. Unfortunately, this led to a slightly unpleasant experience for me, which I think is worth recording for it shows how sensitive Zlotnick was to the memory of Lieberman. Here is page 23 of Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox; look at note 83.

Not long after the publication of Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox, I was at a wedding and someone came over to me to say that Professor Zlotnick would like to speak to me. I had never before met him and someone had obviously told him that I was there. Upon meeting Zlotnick, and with a few others surrounding us, he very firmly told me that it was a big mistake to include the quotation from Wenger in the book, as it mentions that “many faculty members” have questioned if Lieberman wrote a responsum against women’s ordination. I could not understand what he was talking about. I replied that I cited this passage so as to show that it was mistaken. He did not accept my reply, and insisted that to cite such falsehood, even if to show that it is mistaken, was to give it a legitimacy that it did not deserve. He felt that obviously false statements should simply not be dignified with a refutation. Only after he got this point off his chest, which had obviously been bothering him, were we able to have a nice conversation. For months after the conversation, I occasionally wondered if perhaps Zlotnick was correct.
[5]  In Mesorat Moshe, vol. 3, p. 389, R. Moshe Feinstein is recorded as stating that there is no problem using Lieberman’s edition of the Tosefta. R. Moshe adds that since he is religious: אינו חשוד שיזייף את התוספתא.
[6] Document provided courtesy of the Saul Lieberman Archives (ARC 76/8) of the Jewish Theological Seminary Library.
[7] When R. Hayyim Capusi (died 1631) was accused of speaking improperly about the gedolim, he responded as follows (Mikabtze’el 37 [5771] p. 581):

ומה שהוציא דבה עלי שדברתי נגד הגדוליםחלילה לי מרשעוחס ליה לזרעיה דאבא לבוא בגבורות נגד רבותינו זל


[8] Nachum commented to the last post that “‘slander’ is spoken and ‘libel’ is printed (or news, etc.).” While that is the technical definition, all you have to do is google “slanderous article” and you will see that “slander” is also generally used for printed material. Incidentally, when it comes to the word דִבׇּה, which means “slander” in biblical Hebrew, it has a very different meaning in medieval texts. “As Jacob Klatzkin [in his Thesaurus] notes, dibbah in medieval Hebrew does not mean ‘slander,’ but rather a false claim, nonsense, or absurdity.” Y. Tzvi Langermann, Rabbi Yosef Qafih’s Modern Medieval Translation of the Guide,” in Josef Stern, et al., eds., Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed in Translation(Chicago, 2019), p. 268.

In the last post I discussed the use of the word “strange” in describing earlier opinions. On p. 270, Langermann mentions how in translating a particular word from the Arabic, which the Rambam used with reference to certain aggadic opinions, while Pines uses “incongruous” and Ibn Tibbon uses “megunneh”, R. Kafih uses “muzar”. Here is the section from Guide2:30 in R. Kafih’s translation:

אבל מה שתמצא לשונות מקצת החכמים בקביעת זמן מצוי קודם בריאת העולם הוא תמוה מאדכי זוהי השקפת ארסטו אשר בארתי לך שהוא סבור כי אין לתאר לזמן התחלהוזה מוזר . . . אמר רבי יהודה בר סימון מכאן שהיה סדר זמנים קודם לכןאמר ר‘ אבהו מכאן שהיה הקבה בורא עולמות ומחריבןוזה יותר מוזר מן הראשון

R. Kafih himself uses this word in describing views of his predecessors. See his commentary to Hilkhot Shabbat 16:17, note 29, where after mentioning how virtually all prior commentaries understand a passage in the Rambam, he writes:

וזה מוזר ומופלא ביותר

Abarbanel often uses the words זר and even זר מאד when discussing earlier interpretations. He also speaks this way when referring to talmudic and midrashic passages. See e.g., Yeshuot Meshiho, vol. 2, ch. 5 (p. 108 in Oran Golan’s 2018 edition):

ואמנם מה שאמר רבי חנינא . . .  הוא מאמר זר מאד

See also his commentary to Joshua 24:25:

ובדברי חז”ל (מכות פ”ב דף י”א ע”א) בספר תורת הא-להים, ר’ יהודה ור’ נחמיה, חד אמר אלו שמונה פסוקים שבתורה, וחד אמר אלו ערי מקלט, ושניהם דעות זרות מאד

I could cite many more such examples. See also Eric Lawee, Isaac Abarbanel’s Stance Toward Tradition (Albany, 2001), p. 95.
[9] Bikkurim 1 (1864), p. 16.
[10] Introduction to his translation of Leopold Zunz, Toldot Rashi (Lemberg, 1840), p. 12 (unnumbered; the first word on the page is שרשי). In the Jewish Encylopedia entry on Bloch, it says as follows about this work:

Besides the above-mentioned works, Bloch also translated into Hebrew Zunz’s biography of Rashi, to which he wrote an introduction and many notes (Lemberg, 1840). This work bears unmistakable traces of decadence, both in style and virility.

I have no idea what this last sentence is supposed to mean.
[11] Grossman writes that the terms “are taken from an explicit passage of the Talmud in Rosh ha-Shanah 17a which lists these three classes of heretics as those who lose their portion in the World to Come”. Here is the talmudic passage:

אבל המינין והמסורות והאפיקורסים שכפרו בתורה ושכפרו בתחיית המתים . . . יורדין לגיהנם ונידונין בה לדורי דורות

Contrary to Grossman, from the language of the Talmud in the standard Vilna edition it would seem that what we have here are not three categories of theological heretics, but two: מינין and אפיקורסים. The Talmud defines אפיקורסים as those who deny the Torah and the Resurrection. See R. Abraham Abba Hertzl, Siftei Hakhamim, ad loc.

מדנקט השס שכפרו“, ולא נקט ושכפרו” בתורהכמו שנקט באחרינא משמע קצת דבחד מנה להווהאפיקורסים שכפרו בתורה


The Rambam, Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:6, sees אפיקורסים as separate from the two types of kofrim, rather than seeing kofrim as explaining what an epikorus is. Presumably, the Rambam’s version of the Talmud read like the Munich manuscript: והאפיקורסין ושכפרו. In other words, this version explicitly distinguishes between the epikorsim and the kofrim, creating separate categories. This distinction is noted in the Soncino translation of the Talmud. R. Raphael Rabbinovics, Dikdukei Soferim, ad loc., notes that the Munich version is found in Ein Yaakov and all rishonim, and is the correct text. (I wonder if indeed all rishonim have ושכפרו)

The Koren edition, while keeping the standard text of the Talmud – והאפיקורסים שכפרו בתורה – provides this incorrect translation: “But the heretics; and the informers; and the apostates [apikorsim]; and those who denied the Torah; and those who denied the resurrection of the dead.” If Koren is translating in accordance with the Munich manuscript, then this should have been noted, as והאפיקורסים שכפרו בתורה cannot be translated as: “and the apostates; and those who denied the Torah,” as if we are dealing with two separate categories. I also do not like the translation of epikorus as “apostate,” as today, most people understand “apostate” to mean an actual meshumad, but this is not what we are dealing with.

ArtScroll also translates incorrectly: “But the sectarians, the informers, the Apikorsim, those who denied the divinity of the Torah, those who denied the resurrection of the dead.”

Steinsaltz translates the passage properly:

והאפיקורסים המזלזלים בתורה ובחכמיה שכפרו בתורה

[12] Yesod Mishneh Torah, Sefer Madda, p. 242.
[13]  See Guide 1:35.
[14]  See Iggerot ha-Rambam, ed. Shilat, vol 2, p. 578:

ושם אלהים אחרים לא תזכירו וכו‘, כי אשר לו קומה הוא אלהים אחרים בלא ספק

[15] Despite the Rambam’s statement in this letter, we know that even with regard to halakhic matters, the Rambam’s originality far exceeds the numerous instances where he mentions that he is offering his own opinion. See my Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters (Scranton, 2008), pp. 79ff.
[16] R. Kanievsky, Shekel ha-Kodesh, introduction.

[17] Emet le-Ya’akov al ha-Torah, p. 16. The following appears in a note, ibid., and is designed to soften what R. Kamenetsky wrote:

בשיחה פרטית הסביר רבינו כוונתו שעל פי ידיעותיו בפילוסופיא למד כן בחזל”.

Yet this explanation is entirely at odds with what R. Kamenetsky wrote in Emet le-Ya’akov, that what appears in the first four chapters of Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah is not based on Torah sources.
[18] Published in Sinai 11 (Nisan-Elul 5707), pp. 11-12 (called to my attention by R. Chaim Rapoport). In Sefer ha-Zikhronot (Har Bracha, 2003), p. 288, R. Tzadok writes:

ולא היה ראוי לו לקבוע ידיעת עניינים כאלה בהלכות יסודי התורה שלו כללדברים שאינם צריכים למאמיני התורה לידיעתםוכל שכן שהרבה מדבריו אינם אמת כפי דעת חכמיהם היוםוהכללמה לדברי חכמי אומות העולם עם דברי התורה שמן השמיםלעשות דבריהם יסודות לתורהוכל מה שאסף שם הם מדברי חכמי אומות העולם


[19] Even though the Rambam does not mention instructing future converts in the Thirteen Principles, this is what is done nowadays. Yet what happens if someone converted while holding a belief that violates one of the Principles? Is the conversion valid? This interesting question is discussed by R. Eliezer Ben Porat, who claims that when it comes to most of the Principles—the ones not dealing with God’s essence—even the Rambam would regard the conversion as valid ex post facto. See “Ger she-Ta’ah be-Ehad me-Ikarei ha-Emunah,” Kol ha-Torah 67 (Nisan 5769), pp. 313-316.
[20] Mahaneh Hayyim, Yoreh Deah 2, no. 25 (p. 139).
[21]  “Inyanei Gerut,” Or Torah, Adar 5770, p. 540.
[22] “’Ein Lo Helek’: Matarat ha-Rambam bi-Keviat Yud Gimmel Ikarei ha-Emunah,” Masorah le-Yosef 8 (2014), p. 490.
[23] Torat ha-Emek 12 (5764), p. 42. See also Pachter, “Ein Lo Helek,” p. 497:

מטקס קבלת הגר המפורט בהלכות איסורי ביאה, שהבאנו לעיל, שמוכח ממנו שאין צורך בקבלת כל י”ג העיקרים כדי להכנס לכלל ישראל

[24]  Ex post facto, if the future convert was not instructed even in the basic principles required by the Rambam, it seems that the conversion would still be valid. See R. Moshe Feinstein, Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah 3, no. 106:

וגם מצינו עוד יותר שאף שלא ידע הגר שום מצווה הוא גרדהא מפורש בשבת דף סח עב גר שנתגייר בין הנכרים חייב חטאת אחת על כל מלאכות של כל השבתות ועל הדם אחת ועל החלב אחת ועל עבודה זרה אחתהרי נמצא שלא הודיעוהו שום מצווה אף לא עיקרי האמונה ומכל מקום הוא גר

[25]  R. Moshe Maimon called my attention to this.
[26] R. Cohen has also published Ha-Emunah ha-Ne’emanah (Brooklyn, 2012). It is obvious that at times in this book he is responding to what I wrote in Limits (and he also deals with many of the sources I cite). While I am not mentioned by name, I am apparently included among the משמאילים referred to on p. 5 (see Limits, pp. 7-8)
[27] Toldot ha-Poskim, vol. 3, p. 212 (emphasis added).
[28] R. Mayer Twersky, in his discussion of the Hilkhot Issurei Biah 14:2, states that the Rambam’s source is Yevamot 47b, and adds: אם כי הרמבם הרחיב את הדברים. See “Im Benei Noah Nitztavu be-Mitzvat Emunah o Lo,” Beit Yitzhak 37 (5765), p. 529. In the continuation of the article, R. Twersky makes the argument, which he acknowledges that at first glance is מאד מחודש, that for the Rambam non-Jews are also obligated to believe in the Thirteen Principles. In Limits, p. 22, I cited R. Zvi Hirsch Broide as saying the same thing.
[29] Regarding the Rambam’s instructions for a convert, see most recently Menachem Kellner, “The Convert as the Most Jewish of Jews? On the Centrality of Belief (the Opposite of Heresy) in Maimonidean Judaism,” in Jewish Thought 1 (2019), pp. 37ff.




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

Review of Mada Toratekha Rav Yehuda ZoldanStudying Gemara in Broad-based Depth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Structural analysis and existential insights 

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

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

(b. Berakhot 30b) 

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

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

– Serious preparation for prayer is an indication of piety;  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Calling for a New Approach 

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

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

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

 

 

 





Lecture Announcement: Dr. Marc Shapiro

The Seforim Blog is pleased to announce that esteemed Seforim Blog contributor Dr. Marc Shapiro is speaking at Young Israel Beth-El of Boro Park, 4802 15th Avenue in Brooklyn, this coming Saturday night December 21 at 8pm.

The title of his talk is “Judaism and Islam: Some Historical and Halakhic Perspectives”.




Reply from Haym Soloveitchik to the JQR Interview with Robert Brody

Reply from Haym Soloveitchik to the JQR Interview with Robert Brody

By Haym Soloveitchik

Editor’s Note: As a recap of a recent exchange between two scholars on a nuanced debate within medieval Jewish history (see the first footnote), we present this final note by Professor Haym Soloveitchik.

Part One

Dr. Robert Brody advances no new arguments against my thesis in his recent interview at the blog of the Jewish Quarterly Review (https://katz.sas.upenn.edu/blog/jewish-quarterly-review/jqr-contributor-conversation-robert-brody-origins-talmud-study). I have addressed all his points in my original essay and my reply in the Jewish Quarterly Review and online on my personal website.[1] The reader can judge for himself or herself whether my arguments are persuasive.

Basically, the issue between us boils down to two points. Brody does not believe in historical implication. Two facts, to him, imply nothing. If so, all the scholar can ever have is a large pile of inert facts. For example, he denies the notion that Sura and Pumpeditha would never have surrendered their monopoly on the “Vox Talmudica,” for that “would have been institutional suicide.”[2] If that’s the case, all we can know of the past is what is explicitly stated in the sources of the past. Brody equally does not believe in probabilities (not even cumulative probabilities [3]). In the absence of probability (or improbability), all theories are equal. If one can believe that scores of scribes both educated and ignorant, with good or bad memories can inscribe a text of a million and a half words without any change in that text’s meaning,[4] then one can believe almost anything. If so, no inference is better than another. The result is that it isn’t worth pondering the implications of the data of the past; one should concentrate on simply knowing them.

This is my last reply to Dr. Brody’s critiques. I believe the exchange has reached the point of diminishing returns.

Part Two

Dr. Brody has just published in the Bar-Ilan Internet Journal a critique of my remarks of Rashi’s emendations (haggahot) on the Talmud, online here (https://jewish-faculty.biu.ac.il/files/jewish-faculty/shared/JSIJ16/brody.pdf). As this point is irrelevant to my argument, I forgo answering it now. Allow me to explain.

The crucial point in my argument is that there existed ongoing contact between Bavel and the Rhineland in the ninth and tenth centuries. This would have enabled the leaders (he-{h.}ashuvim) of the Rhineland to make inquiries of the state of talmud torah in Bavel, the economic situation of the yeshivot and the level of scholarship in the various institutions in Bavel. Conversely, it would have enabled the men of the Third Yeshivah to make inquiries of the nature of the Jewish settlement in the Rhineland, the seriousness of any offer and the financial abilities of the Rhineland leaders to support such a migration and the enterprise upon which it would embark. This ongoing contact would also have enabled manuscripts from Bavel to reach Ashkenaz in those centuries. Such a continuance of contact is proven by the trade and communication routes of the time. With goods brought regularly from the Near and Far East came manuscripts of sifrei kodesh. Jews in the Rhineland would pay handsomely for manuscripts, just as the Christian prelates and monasteries paid for reliquia. There is no reason not to conclude that manuscripts of the widest variety were available the Rhineland the great emporium of Western Europe in the closing centuries of the first millennium. Whether or not Rashi took a copy of some of these manuscripts back to Troyes is irrelevant to my contention. I introduced this issue simply because Noam’s article treated both the diffusion of such manuscripts in Early Ashkenaz and the nature of Rashi’s haggahot on the tractate of Sukkah. I believe Noam to be correct about Sukkah, but this is simply frosting on my cake. Rashi’s haggahot are at least a century after the migration of the Third Yeshivah, and their nature is of no matter to my argument.

I have long pondered the nature of these emendations well before the idea of any Third Yeshivah occurred to me, and should I come to some conclusion, I will include it in the fourth volume of my collected essays. As of now, I have spent enough time replying to Dr. Brody and must return to my own research.

Footnotes:

[1] Haym Soloveitchik, Collected Essays, vol. 2 (Oxford: Littman Library, 2014), 150-201; Haym Soloveitchik, “On the Third Yeshivah of Bavel: A Response to Robert Brody,” Jewish Quarterly Review 109:2 (Spring 2019): 289-320; Haym Soloveitchik, “Reply to Brody–Part II,” at HaymSoloveitchik.org, available here (https://haymsoloveitchik.org/downloads/Reply%20to%20Brody%20II.pdf). The only new point that he adds here is the documentation of his statement of the difference between significant and trivial variants. However, I never challenged this principal; I simply argued that there are also other principles in textual criticism, and the mark of a good editor is his or her ability to use the one most appropriate for the case at hand. See “Reply to Brody—Part II,” pp. 39-40.

[2] Collected Essays, pp. 171-172; “Reply to Brody–Part II,” pp. 9, 20.

[3] “Reply to Brody—Part II,” pp. 38-41.

 [4] Ibid. pp. 21-22.




Message from Professor Haym Soloveitchik

In the newly-published issue of the Jewish Quartlerly Review (Spring 109:2), there is an exchange between Robert Brody and Haym Soloveitchik on the “Third Yeshivah of Bavel” (https://muse.jhu.edu/issue/40354). Professor Soloveitchik’s reply is in two parts: Part I in JQR and the continuation–Part II– on his website.<haymsoloveitchik.org>. At the conclusion of  his reply in JQR, he refers the readers to Part II on his website: “Those interested in my replies to all of Brody’s other objections can turn to my website, haym.soloveitchik.org, and click on Reply to Brody, Part II.” There is a typographical error in the name of the website. There is no period between <haym> and<soloveitchik>. The correct address is: <haymsoloveitchik.org>.



Two Jewish Temples in Egypt

Two Jewish Temples in Egypt

Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein is the author of the newly-released work God versus Gods: Judaism in the Age of Idolatry (Mosaica Press, 2018). His book follows the narrative of Tanakh and focuses on the stories concerning Avodah Zarah using both traditional and academic sources. It also includes an encyclopedia of all the different types of idolatry mentioned in the Bible. Rabbi Klein studied for over a decade at the premier institutes of the Hareidi world, including Beth Medrash Govoha in Lakewood and Yeshivas Mir in Jerusalem. He authored many articles both in English and Hebrew, and his first book Lashon HaKodesh: History, Holiness, & Hebrew (Mosaica Press, 2014) became an instant classic. His weekly articles on synonyms in the Hebrew language are published in the Jewish Press and Ohrnet. Rabbi Klein lives with his family in Beitar Illit, Israel and can be reached via email to: rabbircklein@gmail.com
 
In this article, we will discuss two different temples which the Jews built in Egypt: the temple at Elephantine, and Chonyo’s Temple. After providing the reader with the historical background to both temples, we will analyze the nature of the worship which took place there, as well as their possible Halachic legitimacy.

The Temple at Elephantine

Ancient papyri found on the Egyptian island Elephantine (יב, Yev in Aramaic) reveal the forgotten story of a Jewish Temple that was built there.
According to those documents, Jews living in Egypt when it was still an independent state built a Temple for Hashem at Elephantine. This occurred after the destruction of the First Temple, but before the construction of the Second Temple. Later, when the Persians conquered Egypt, they destroyed most of its temples,[1] but allowed the Jewish Temple at Elephantine to remain. Sometime afterwards, the priests of the Egyptian deity Khnum and the local Persian rulers colluded against the Jewish community at Elephantine, destroying their Temple and taking the Temple’s gold and silver for themselves.
The Jewish priests of the Elephantine temple, led by a priest named Jedaniah, sent letters appealing to the Persian-appointed Jewish governor of Judah and the Cuthean governate of Samaria to intervene on their behalf, and lobby the Persians for the restoration of their temple. In these letters, the priests of Elephantine repeatedly mentioned that they wished to resume sacrificing meal-offerings, burnt-offerings, and incense (which as we will see seems to be Halachicly problematic). It seems that the Second Temple in Jerusalem had already been built by this time; as the Elephantine priests mentioned in their letter that they had also written to Yochanan, the Kohen Gadol in Jerusalem, but had not received a reply.
The Elephantine Temple was eventually rebuilt, but the Jewish community at Elephantine did not last much longer.[2]

Were the Jews at Elephantine Loyal to Halachah?

The academic consensus views the Jews at Elephantine as practitioners of a syncretistic mixture of Judaism and Egyptian/Aramean idolatrous
cults.
[3] This comes as no surprise, because Jeremiah (Chapter 44) already mentioned that the Jews who remained in Judah after the destruction
of the First Temple and the subsequent assassination of Gedaliah (the Babylonian-appointed Jewish governor over what remained of Judah) migrated to Egypt, where they engaged in idol worship.
[4] As such, the deviant practices of these wayward Jews does not warrant any attempt at justification.[5]
However, some scholars have called this picture into question. In the Ancient Levant, it was standard practice for people to bear personal names
that refer to their gods. Such references to deities within a person’s name is known as a theophoric element. Accordingly, if the Jewish community at Elephantine was truly syncretistic, then we would expect the Jews of that community to incorporate the names of foreign gods into their personal names. But the evidence shows that they did not. Partially because of this lack of idolatrous theophoric elements, some scholars argue that the Jewish community at Elephantine was not idolatrous—rather they remained wholly devoted to Hashem. These scholars explain away alleged allusions to foreign gods at Elephantine as the assimilation of various pagan religious
concepts into their brand Judaism, as opposed to the outright acceptance of pagan deities.[6] Similarly, the Jews at Elephantine may have used Aramean phraseology to refer to Jewish ideas, but they did not adopt Aramean religion.[7]
According to this approach, we must seek out the Halachic justification for offering sacrifices at the temple in Elephantine, a practice which seems to defy the Torah’s ban on sacrifices outside of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Assuming that the Elephantine Jews were basically loyal to normative Judaism, how did they justify building a temple, complete with sacrifices?
As mentioned previously, it seems that those Jews who built the Temple at Elephantine only did so after the destruction of the First Temple in Jerusalem. Based on this, R. Ephraim Dov ha-Kohen Lapp (1859–1925) proposes that they followed a minority Halachic opinion which maintains that when the First Temple was destroyed, the site in Jerusalem lost it holy status, thus legitimizing the use of private altars.[8] Accordingly, the Temple at Elephantine had the Halachic status of a legitimate private altar. As a result of this status, the Jews at Elephantine only offered voluntary, votive sacrifices such as meal-offerings, burnt-offerings, and incense (as opposed to obligatory sacrifices, like sin-offerings or guilt-offerings). This
is, in fact, in accordance with the Mishnah
[9] that limits the permissible sacrifices at legitimate private altars to exactly such offerings.[10]

Private Altars in the Second Temple Period

Nonetheless, the issue that remains unresolved is why this temple was not discontinued or dismantled upon the construction of the Second Temple. We can possibly resolve this question by comparing the issue of the temple at Elephantine to the issue of private altars in the Kingdom of Judah.
As evident in the Book of Kings, private altars existed in the Kingdom of Judah throughout the First Temple period. There was no systematic
campaign to destroy them until Hezekiah came along. This begs the question: Why did righteous kings of Judah, such as Asa and Jehoshaphat allow these private altars to remain, if sacrifices were only allowed at the Holy Temple in Jerusalem?
R. Moshe Sofer (1762–1839) answers that many of the private altars in question were built before the prohibition of private altars came
into effect (i.e. before the Temple in Jerusalem was built). Therefore, since these private altars were built legitimately, they maintained a certain degree of holiness. Consequently, it was actually
forbidden to destroy them, and this prohibition remained in effect even once using them for ritual purposes became prohibited (i.e., when the Temple was later built). For this reason, even the “good” kings of Judah did not remove the private altars.[11]
Based on this understanding, we can conjecture that a similar approach may have taken hold at the temple in Elephantine. If that temple was
originally built at a time when private altars were permitted (because the First Temple in Jerusalem had already been destroyed), then perhaps some Jews attached a certain degree of holiness to the temple, and refused to dismantle it after the Second Temple in Jerusalem was built. Nonetheless, even if they were justified in allowing the temple at Elephantine to remain standing, there does not seem to be any justification for continuing to offer sacrifices outside of Jerusalem once the Second Temple was built.

The House of Chonyo

The Mishnah[12] mentions another Jewish temple in Egypt—the House of Chonyo (Onias). Chonyo was the son[13] of Shimon the Just, a righteous Kohen Gadol in the Second Temple in Jerusalem. Before his death, Shimon the Just said that his son Chonyo should succeed him as Kohen Gadol.
The Talmud[14] offers two Tannaic accounts of how Chonyo’s temple came about. According to R. Meir, Chonyo’s older brother Shimi became jealous that their father chose Chonyo to succeed him, so he tricked Chonyo into making a mockery of the Temple rituals and angering the other Kohanim. Shimi gave Chonyo “instructions” for his inaugural service by telling him that he was expected to wear a leather blouse and a special belt.
When Chonyo came to the altar wearing those “feminine” articles of clothing, Shimi insinuated to the other Kohanim that Chonyo wore those clothes in order to fulfill a promise to his “lover”.
[15] This raised their ire and they chased him to the Egyptian city of Alexandria,[16] where he established an idolatrous temple.
According to R. Yehudah, the story unfolds differently. Although Shimon the Just advised that his son Chonyo should become the next Kohen Gadol, Chonyo deferred that honor, allowing his older brother Shimi to be appointed instead. Nonetheless, Chonyo became jealous of his older brother, so he devised a plan to embarrass him and deprive him of his office. Chonyo gave Shimi “instructions” for his inaugural service by telling him that he was expected to wear a leather blouse and a special belt. When Shimi came to the altar wearing those “feminine” articles of clothes, Chonyo insinuated to the other Kohanim that Shimi wore those clothes in order to fulfill a promise to his “lover”. When the other Kohanim found out the truth, i.e. that Chonyo had tricked Shimi by giving him incorrect instructions for his inaugural service, they chased Chonyo to Alexandria, where he established a temple for Hashem.[17]
The Talmud concludes this second account by relating that Chonyo justified the establishment of his temple by citing the words of Isaiah,[18] On
that day, there will be an altar for Hashem inside the Land of Egypt, and a single-stone altar to Hashem next to its border
(Isa. 19:19).

Josephus’ Account of the Chonyo Story

Josephus offers a third account of how Chonyo’s temple was established. After the death of Alexander the Great, Greek holdings in the Middle East were divided between the Seleucid kingdom in Syria and the Ptolemaic kingdom in Egypt. A flashpoint of contention between these two rival kingdoms was the Holy Land, and different groups of Jews took different sides in the conflict. When the Seleucid king, Antiochus Epiphanes, led his army to Jerusalem, he violated the Holy Temple and halted the offering of daily sacrifices for three and a half years.
Chonyo, who was the Kohen Gadol in Jerusalem, was a supporter of the rival Ptolemaic kingdom. When the Seleucids came to Jerusalem, he fled to
Egypt. In Egypt, Ptolemy granted Chonyo permission to establish a Jewish community in the district of Heliopolis. There,
[19] Chonyo built a city resembling Jerusalem, along with a temple that resembled the one in Jerusalem. Centuries later, Chonyos’ temple met its eventual demise at the hands of the Romans. After they destroyed the Second Holy Temple in Jerusalem, the Romans ordered the closure of Chonyo’s temple in Egypt, and eventually its destruction.[20]
Josephus seems to attribute noble intentions to Ptolemy. He was said to have sponsored the establishment of a Jewish temple in Egypt so that the
Jews there would have the opportunity to worship Hashem (and would be more willing to help Ptolemy battle the Seleucids). However, in
explaining Chonyo’s rationale for building the temple in Egypt, Josephus reports that Chonyo built it in order to compete with the Temple in Jerusalem and draw Jews away from worshipping Hashem properly. Chonyo had a bone to pick with the Jewish leadership in Jerusalem on account of their rejection of him, which forced him to flee to Egypt.
Josephus also reports that Chonyo rationalized his building of a temple on foreign soil[22] by citing Isaiah’s above-mentioned prophecy.[22]

Chonyo’s Temple in Halacha

As we have seen above, whether or not Chonyo’s temple was idolatrous remains a matter of contention. According to Josephus and R. Meir,
Chonyo sought to worship something other than Hashem. On the other hand, according to R. Yehuda, Chonyo’s temple was established for
the sake of Hashem. If we follow the first view, then there can be no justification for what Chonyo did and the establishment of his idolatrous temple in Egypt. However, if he sought to worship Hashem, then from a Halachic perspective, there may be two ways of looking at Chonyo’s temple: Either his temple was a place of forbidden worship (albeit not quite idolatry in the classical sense of worshipping a foreign deity), or it might have been a completely legitimate place of worship.
Maimonides[23] follows R. Yehuda’s version of events, and explains that Chonyo’s temple was not idolatrous, per se, even though it violated the ban on sacrifices outside of the Temple in Jerusalem. In other words, the practices at Chonyo’s temple reflected an illegitimate way of worshipping Hashem. Maimonides also notes that many local Egyptians—known as Copts—became involved in Chonyo’s temple, and were thus drawn to worshipping Hashem.
The Tosafists[24] disagree with Maimonides’ premise that Chonyo’s temple violated Halacha. Instead, they explain that Chonyo avoided the prohibition of offering sacrifices outside of the Temple in Jerusalem by only offering sacrifices belonging to non-Jews. According to this approach, there was nothing technically wrong with Chonyo’s temple and the services there.

Gentiles Sacrifices outside of Jerusalem

Nonetheless, the commentators grapple over reconciling the Tosafists’ explanation with the opinion of the Tannaic sage R. Yose who maintains that the prohibition of offering sacrifices outside of Temple even extends to sacrifices of non-Jews.[25]
R. Avrohom Chaim Schor (1560–1632)[26] explains that the dispute about whether Chonyo’s temple was legitimate or not centers around whether or not one accepts R. Yose’s view. In other words, R. Meir accepted R. Yose’s view that even a non-Jew’s sacrifices may only be offered in the Holy Temple. As a result of that, R. Meir understood that Chonyo’s temple must have been illegitimate, so he branded the temple idolatrous. In contrast, R. Yehuda rejected R. Yose’s opinion, so he reasoned that there could be Halachic justification for Chonyo’s temple. Because of this, R. Yehuda asserted that Chonyo’s was not idolatrous, but reflected the genuine worship of Hashem, albeit—as the Tosafists explain—specifically for gentiles.
Alternatively, R. Schor proposes that although R. Yose forbids offering the sacrifices of gentiles outside of the Temple in Jerusalem, this prohibition only applies to Jewish priests. Accordingly, R. Yehuda believed that Chonyo and the Jewish priests at his temple did not actually participate in the ritual offerings there. Rather, they offered instructions for the attending gentiles to properly offer sacrifices to Hashem. In this way, no one at Chonyo’s Jewish-run temple ever violated the prohibition against offering sacrifices outside of the Temple in Jerusalem, because they themselves never engaged in such actions, they only helped the gentiles do so.[27]
Others suggest that even R. Yose differentiates between two different types of sacrifices offered by a non-Jew. If a non-Jew consecrated a sacrifice to be brought in the Temple in Jerusalem,[28] then R. Yose would say that this sacrifice may not be offered outside of the Temple in Jerusalem. However, if a non-Jew consecrated a sacrifice without specific intent that it should be offered in Jerusalem, then his offering may Halachically be brought elsewhere. According to this, all opinions agree that a Jew may offer a gentile’s sacrifice outside of the Temple in Jerusalem provided that the gentile did not initially consecrate the sacrifice with intent to bring to Jerusalem.[29] With this in mind, we may justify the services at Chonyo’s temple by explaining that they only offered the sacrifices of non-Jews that were consecrated without specific intent to be offered in Jerusalem.
R. Yehonassan Eyebschuetz (1690–1764) proposes another answer: the Tosafists’ discussion reflects the rejected opinion of the Amoraic sage R. Yitzchok.[30] R. Yitzchok understood that the prohibition of sacrificing outside of the Temple does not apply outside of the Holy Land, thus justifying the existence of Chonyo’s temple which stood in Egypt.[31]
R. Lapp extends this logic to also justify the continued existence of the Jewish temple at Elephantine (mentioned above), even after the construction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem. He argues that in accordance with R. Yitzchok, the entire prohibition of sacrifices outside of the Temple only applies in the Holy Land, not in Egypt.[32]

Egyptian Temples and Eradication of the Idolatrous Inclination

In short, there were two Jewish Temples in Egypt that coexisted with the Second Temple in Jerusalem: the Jewish Temple at Elephantine and Chonyo’s Temple in Alexandria/Heliopolis. We have shown that it is unclear whether or not these temples were idolatrous. If the two Jewish Temples in Egypt were non-idolatrous, then there may be some Halachic justification for their existence.

This, of course, also does not hamper our understanding of the Talmudic assertion that the idolatrous inclination was abolished with the beginning of the Second Temple Era. However, if these Jewish Temples in Egypt were indeed idolatrous, then they pose a challenge to the Talmudic assertions regarding the elimination of the idolatrous inclination.[33]

We shall resolve this difficulty by addressing each temple separately.

The Elephantine Temple seems to have predated the construction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, and thus the eradication of the idolatrous inclination. As such, the Temple existed before the sages removed the idolatrous inclination. It is not a stretch of the imagination to postulate that even if the idolatrous inclination suddenly ceased to exist, those who already engaged in systematic idolatry beforehand would continue to do so simply out of habit. Once the Elephantine Temple had already been functioning for some time, it would not simply shut down operations overnight because the sages rid the Jews of the idolatrous inclination. There was too much at stake for the priests and other functionaries who profited from the temple.

Regarding Chonyo’s Temple—which certainly did not predate the construction of the Second Temple—even if it was idolatrous, we can argue that it was not the drive for committing idolatry which led to its establishment. Rather, Chonyo’s own ego and pursuit of honor led him to establish a new Temple in Egypt. Those who participated in his cult were merely supporting characters in Chonyo’s own private scheme. In other words, the existence of Chonyo’s idolatrous temple does not contradict the Talmudic statement that the sages had removed the idolatrous inclination, because the idolatrous inclination was not what drove Chonyo’s temple.

To recap, the Idolatrous inclination was not in play at these two temples. At Elephantine, it was the priests’ greed which motivated their continued idol worship and at Chonyo’s temple, it was a personality cult intended to elevate Chonyo which sponsored idolatry.


 

 

[1] The establishment of the Jewish community in Elephantine is uncertain regarding when it happened, although some scholars argue that it predated the destruction of the First Temple. Rabbi Moshe Leib Haberman challenges this assumption, citing the Elephantine Papyri that only reveals that the Jewish settlement was there before Cambyses, but the exact timing is unknown.

[2] Primary sources for the Elephantine Jewish community include B. Porten & A. Yardeni’s Textbook of Aramaic Documents from Ancient Egypt, vol. 1 (1986) and B. Porten’s The Elephantine Papyri in English (1996). Other sources that discuss this community include M.H. Silverman’s “The Religion of the Elephantine Jews—A New Approach” (1973), J.M.P. Smith’s “The Jewish Temple at Elephantine” (1908), and C. Cornell’s “Cult Statuary in the Judean Temple at Yeb” (2016).

[3] The Elephantine Papyri include texts that mention the name of a goddess, Anat-Yahu, which some scholars argue was a syncretistic merge of the Canaanite goddess Anat with Hashem, while others argue that it was wholly an Aramean creation.

[4] J.M.P. Smith suggests that the founders of the Jewish colony at Elephantine were Jews who fled to Egypt instead of remaining in Babylonian-occupied Judah, as called for by Jeremiah.

[5] C. Cornell believes that the Jews in Elephantine worshipped the One Hashem but also held multiple images/idols in their temple, which purported to depict Him in various hypostases.

[6] M.H. Silverman disagrees with the idea that the Jews at Elephantine were entirely idolatrous.

[7] Some scholars suggest that the seemingly idolatrous elements of the Jewish presence at Elephantine were only attempts to evoke Persian sympathy for their cause.

[8] Maimonides rules that the Temple’s site became permanently holy when King Solomon sanctified it, while Raavad disagrees and accepts the opinion that the site was no longer holy after the Temple was destroyed, until it was re-consecrated upon the construction of the Second Temple.

[9] Megillah 1:10 discusses the topic of when the Second Temple was considered to be permanent.

[10] Zivchei Efrayim Al Meseches Zevachim and Responsa Chasam Sofer discuss the question of whether a new site for the Temple would need to be found if the original site was lost.

[11] Responsa Chasam Sofer (Orach Chaim §32). See also R.C. Klein, God versus Gods: Judaism in the Age of Idolatry (Mosaica Press, 2018), pgs. 28–32.
[12] Menachos 13:10.
[13] In Antiquities, Josephus attributes the temple in Egypt to a later Chonyo, who was not the son of Shimon the Just. Nonetheless, some scholars claim that Josephus purposely attributed the establishment of the temple in Egypt to a later Chonyo who had never served as Kohen Gadol in
Jerusalem in order to delegitimize its religious value. See J. E. Taylor, “A Second Temple in Egypt: the Evidence for the Zadokite Temple of Onias,”
Journal for the Study of Judaism vol. 29:3 (1998), pgs. 297–321. Interestingly, R. Yisroel Lipschitz
(1782–1860) in
Tiferes
Yisroel
(Menachos 13:10, Boaz §2)
writes that the Chonyo in discussion was not literally a
son of Shimon the Just, but rather a grandson of Shimon the Just (a son of Shimon’s son Chonyo), accepting
Josephus’s account and adjusting his understanding of the Talmud
accordingly.
[14] TB Menachos 109b.
[15] R. Gershom and Rashi explain that this “lover” was his wife. Maimonides (in his commentary to the Mishnah Menachos
13:10) writes that this “lover” was an alleged mistress.
[16] TB Yoma 38a and JT Shekalim 5:1 relate that the House of Garmu did not wish to reveal the secrets
behind making the shew-bread and the House of Avtinas did not wish to
reveal the secrets behind making the incense for the Temple. In
response, artisans from Alexandria were imported to try and mimic
those secret recipes, but they were unsuccessful in exactly copying
what those families had been able to make. Both R. Yosef Shaul
Nathansohn (1808–1875) in
Divrei Shaul (to TB Yoma
38a) and R. Shalom Massas (1909–2003) in
ve-Cham
ha-Shemesh

(Jerusalem, 2003) pp. 326–327 independently draw an explicit
connection these Alexandrian artisans to Chonyo’s Temple in
Alexandria, although no other authorities do so. The notion of
Alexandrian artisans being unable to exactly replicate something from
Jerusalem is also found in Targum to Est. 1, which relates that
Achashverosh wished to create a replica of King Solomon’s famed
throne, and employed Alexandrian artisans to do so—but to no avail.
That story must have transpired before the establishment of Chonyo’s
Temple in Alexandria because Achashverosh lived before the
construction of the Second Temple. In light of this, we may suggest
that Alexandrian artisans were employed in all cases simply because
Greek Alexandria was a center of knowledge in its time, so the most
knowledgeable craftspeople lived there.
[17] The Jerusalem Talmud (JT Yoma 6:3) slightly differs in its retelling of this discussion. Whilst in
the Babylonian Talmud, the names of the two rival sons of Shimon the
Just are Chonyo and Shimi, in the Jerusalem Talmud, they are
Nechunyon and Shimon. However, R. Tanchum ha-Yerushalmi (a 13
th
century Egyptian Rabbi) writes that Chonyo had two names, Chonyo and
Nechunyo; see B. Toledano (ed.),
ha-Madrich
ha-Maspik
(Tel Aviv, 1961), pg. 154.
Furthermore, according to the Babylonian Talmud, R. Meir believed that Chonyo was
the victim of Shimi’s deceit and ended up establishing a temple for
idolatry, while R. Yehuda believed that Chonyo tricked Shimi, and
ended up fleeing for fear of Kohanic retribution and established a
temple for Hashem. The Jerusalem Talmud echoes the dispute in the
Babylonian Talmud regarding the
story
of Chonyo, but differs in the conclusions. According to the Jerusalem
Talmud, R. Meir understood that Chonyo’s Temple was for Hashem,
while R. Yehuda understood that it was for idolatry. See also
Piskei
ha-Rid
(to TB Menachos 109b)
who copies the entire story as related by R. Meir, but concludes that
Chonyo’s intent was to establish a temple for Hashem—not for
idolatry—in line with the Jerusalem Talmud.
[18] See Isa. 19:18 which calls this Egyptian place Ir
ha-Heres
(עיר ההרס, the city of destruction), which the Talmud (TB Menachos 110a) translates as Karta
de-Beis Shemesh
(קרתא דבית שמש, city of the House of the Sun, i.e. Heliopolis). Indeed, deviant
versions of the Bible (such as the Septuagint and the Dead Sea Scroll
1QIsa3) insert this tradition into the text and read
Ir
ha-Cheres
(עיר החרס, the city of the sun), instead of Ir ha-Heres.
[19] As we saw above, the Talmud locates Chonyo’s temple at Alexandria,
which is quite distant from Heliopolis. We can reconcile this
discrepancy between the Talmud and Josephus by noting that the term
“Alexandria of Egypt” used by the Talmud does not necessarily
refer just to the Egyptian city of Alexandria, but to the entirety of
Egypt; see R. Ulmer,
Egyptian
Cultural Icons in Midrash
(Berlin/Boston:
Walter de Gruyter, 2009), pg. 210 and A. Kasher,
The
Jews in Hellenistic and Roman Egypt: The Struggle for Equal Rights
(Tubingen: Mohr, 1985), pg. 347.
R. Last, “Onias IV and the ἀδέσποτος ἱερός: Placing Antiquities 13.62–72 into the Context of Ptolemaic Land Tenure,” Journal for the Study of Judaism vol. 41 (2010), pgs. 494–516 makes the case that Ptolemey
originally granted Chonyo land in Alexandria for the construction of
the temple, but Chonyo later appropriated other, ownerless lands near
Heliopolis upon which he built his temple.
[20] Josephus concludes with a note that Chonyo’s temple lasted 343 years, although some argue that this figure is exaggerated by close to a
century; see S. G. Rosenberg, “Onias, Temple of.,”
Encyclopedia Judaica 2nd ed. vol. 15 (Detroit: Macmillan Reference USA, 2007), pg. 432. R.
Yisroel Lipschitz writes in
Tiferes Yisroel (Menachos 13:10, Yachin§57) that Chonyo’s temple lasted close to 250 years.
[21] Ibn Yachya in Shalsheles ha-Kabbalah (Jerusalem, 1962), pg. 49 writes that after Chonyo built his temple in Egypt, he later built another temple at Mount Gerizim with the help of the Samaritans. An observation of noted Bible scholar Emanuel Tov accentuates the affinity between these two renegade Jewish cults (i.e. the Alexandrian/Egyptian sect and the Samaritans). Tov
categorizes witnesses of textual variations in the Torah by
essentially dividing them into two blocks: The Masoretic Text (which
Tov admits was the original) and the Septuagint/Samaritan block
(which was derived from the MT, but splinters off into other
directions). By using this mode of classification, Tov recognizes a
certain shared affinity, or perhaps even correspondence, between
these non-mainstream Jewish sects which existed in the Second Temple
period. See E. Tov, “The Development of the Text of the Torah in
Two Major Text Blocks,”
Textus
vol. 26 (2016), pgs. 1–27.
[22] The War of the Jews (Book I, Chapter 1 and Book VII, Chapter 10) and Antiquities
of the Jews
(Book XII, Chapter 9 and Book XIII, Chapter 3).
[23] In his commentary to the Mishnah Menachos 13:10.
[24] To TB Menachos 109b.
[25] Cited in TB Zevachim 45a.
[26] Tzon Kodashim to TB Menachos 109b.
[27] This explanation is also proposed by Sfas Emes (to TB Menachos 109b).
[28] The Mishnah (Shekalim 1:5) rules that the Temple can only accept from non-Jews votive sacrifices, but not what are otherwise considered obligatory offerings.
[29] See Mikdash David (Kodshim §27:9), written by R. David Rappaport (1890–1941), Even ha-Azel (Laws of Maaseh ha-Korbanos 19:7), by R. Isser Zalman Meltzer (1870–1953), and Sefer ha-Mitzvos le-Rasag vol. 2 (Warsaw, 1914), pg. 233b, by R. Yerucham Fishel Perlow
(1846–1934).
[30] See TB Megilla 10a.
[31] Yaaros Dvash (vol. 1, drush #9).
[32] Zivchei Efrayim Al Meseches Zevachim (Piotrków, 1922), pgs. 5–7.
[33] For a fuller discussion of this Talmudic assertion, see R.C. Klein, God versus Gods: Judasim in the Age of Idolatry
(Mosaica Press, 2018), pp. 244–276.