ASK [Atlanta Scholars Kollel], however, has demonstrated a willingness to meet its constituency on its own terms by running a biweekly introductory prayer service in one of Atlanta’s largest Reform houses of worship, Temple Sinai of Sandy Springs. To be sure, the meetings take place in a social hall rather than in the synagogue sanctuary, but this is a clear departure from the guidelines set down by Feinstein. Similarly, members of the Phoenix Community Kollel have taught classes at the community sponsored Hebrew High that is housed at the Reform Temple Chai. . . . [T]he head of Pittsburgh’s Kollel Jewish Learning Center, Rabbi Aaron Kagan, meets on a regular basis with his local rabbinic colleagues from Reform and Conservative synagogues to study Torah together. . . . Based in Palo Alto, California, the Jewish Study Network—one of the most dynamic and rapidly expanding of these kiruv kollels—does not limit its interdenominational contacts to private study. Its fellows work together with Conservative and Reform representatives to create new Jewish learning initiatives throughout the Bay Area and to offer their own programming in non-Orthodox synagogues. Rabbi Joey Felsen, head of the Jewish Study Network and a veteran of five years of full-time Torah study at Jerusalem’s venerable Mir yeshivah, made clear that he was not opposed to presenting Torah lectures in a non-Orthodox synagogue sanctuary, although he preferred to teach in the social hall. Indeed, according to Rabbi Yerachmiel Fried, leader of the highly successful Dallas Area Torah Association (DATA) Kollel and a well-respected halakhist, insofar as Jewish religious institutions were concerned the only boundary that remained hermetically sealed was his unwillingness to teach in a gay synagogue. . . . 

Among other sources R. M. Shapiro finds a basis for permitting women’s aliyyot outside the synagogue in an anonymous opinion quoted in Sefer ha-Batim. . . . Indeed, here we find a clear statement that one opinion considers women’s aliyyot problematic only in the context of public reading in a synagogue, whereas when a group prays at home, women may receive aliyyot.

The proper role of women in the synagogue is an issue that Modern Orthodoxy has been struggling with for over forty years. While everyone agrees that halakhah has to guide all changes in synagogue practice, women’s changing self-perception and religious sentiment must be central to any discussion of synagogue life. In recent decades many avenues for Modern Orthodox women have been opened, and have achieved widespread communal support. Yet when it comes to a fuller participation in public prayer and reading of the Torah great conflict has ensued. In this provocative book, Rabbi Prof. Daniel Sperber, using his characteristic erudition, makes the case that in the twenty-first century it is time for women to be given their halakhic right, and be permitted to read from the Torah. Together with the responses of Rabbi Shlomo Riskin and Prof. Eliav Schochetman, this book is Torah study on the highest level, by scholars who thankfully choose to be engaged in an important issue affecting the Modern Orthodox world.[20]

It is with great sadness that we report the petirah of Rav Tzvi Abba Gorelick zt”l, rosh yeshiva of Yeshiva Gedolah Zichron Moshe of South Fallsburg, NY. Rav Gorelick’s most noted accomplishment was his leadership of Yeshiva Gedolah Zichron Moshe of South Fallsburg, where thousands of bochurim and yungeleit have grown in Torah and yiras Shomayim. The yeshiva was founded in 1969 in the Bronx and later relocated to South Fallsburg. Rav Gorelick was a son of Rav Yeruchom Gorelick zt”l, a talmid of the Brisker Rov zt”l who founded an elementary boys school and later a girls school, Bais Miriam, in the Bronx, and combined had an enrollment of over 800 students. The boys’ school was named Zichron Moshe after Moshe Alexander Gross z”l, a young man who was drafted into the Navy during World War II and whose ship sank during the D-Day invasion in 1944. As the neighborhood began to decline, Rav Gorelick looked for other places to move. The Laurel Park Hotel in South Fallsburg, NY, was available and Rav Gorelick decided to buy the property with money that he had from the yeshiva. In 1970, Rav Elya Ber Wachtfogel, a friend of Rav Gorelick, joined the hanhalla as rosh yeshiva. The rest is history, as the yeshiva grew and grew, becoming one of the most respected yeshivos in the world. To this day, bochurim from across the globe come to learn at Yeshiva Zichron Moshe. The yeshiva’s mosdos, under the direction of Rav Gorelick, burgeoned and currently consist of the yeshiva gedolah and mesivta, a premier kollel, as well as a cheder and Bais Yaakov elementary school. The passing of Rav Gorelick is a blow to the entire South Fallsburg Torah community and the greater Olam Hatorah. The levaya will be held tomorrow at 11 a.m. at Yeshiva Gedolah Zichron Moshe, located at 84 Laurel Park Road in South Fallsburg, NY. The aron will leave South Fallsburg at approximately 1:30 p.m. to JFK Airport, where the levaya will continue (exact time to be determined). Kevurah will take place in Eretz Yisroel.

The history of Orthodox Judaism in the United States in the years before World War II still awaits careful study. Many, in fact, are under the misconception that until the 1930’s the United States lacked great Torah scholars. The truth is that already at the turn of the twentieth century, there were many outstanding Torah scholars who had settled here. Had they remained in Europe it is likely that some of them would now be well known in the Torah world. 

For a variety of reasons these rabbis were forced to leave Russia and Europe and travel to a new land. They ended up in communities throughout the country. Although it is hard to imagine it today, there were world-renowned scholars in such places as Omaha, Nebraska, Burlington, Vermont, and Hoboken, New Jersey. These were men who lived in the wrong place at the wrong time, and their communities did not appreciate the greatness that dwelled within them. The challenges of the new land were indeed difficult and unfortunately, many of these rabbis’ children did not follow the path of their fathers. 

The works of these rabbis, in addition to being major contributions to Torah literature, are also priceless historical documents. They reflect a time, unlike today, when Orthodoxy was on the defensive, appearing to many to be on its way out. After their deaths, these rabbis were forgotten as were their books. Thanks to the miracles of modern technology, and the indefatigable efforts of Chaim Rosenberg, this situation is being rectified. The Torah writings of these forgotten American rabbis are now being made available. Those who peruse these works will see the learning and dedication of our American sages. They will see how these rabbis grappled with challenging halakhic problems, and how they attempted to offer religious inspiration to their congregants. It is they, the “Gedolei America,” who laid the groundwork for Orthodoxy in the United States, and for this we are all grateful.

‘The Rebbe: The Life and Afterlife of Menachem Mendel Schneerson’ by Samuel Heilman and Menachem Friedman (Princeton University Press, 2010), 382 pages.

This book is comprised of two studies.

Firstly, we have a sociological study of the Lubavitch ‘mission establishment’ (shlichus); a layman’s guide to the now global phenomenon of shluchim,[1], shluchos and their Chabad Houses – at least as they have become consolidated over the last two or three decades. The authors describe the dedication of these emissaries; their ambitions, achievements and the (messianic) ethos that spurs them to work tirelessly with the aim of drawing the hearts of all Jewish People closer to their Father in Heaven.

In this section they speak, often quite fondly, of the sterling work performed by the shluchim and their families who go and live in small towns, far-flung cities and secular university campuses in order to re-ignite religious life; providing Jewish amenities for both residents and itinerants, observant or otherwise, across the globe. They emphasize the novelty of this phenomenon, in contradistinction to other chasidic and haredi groups who tend to retreat into their insular communities, shunning exposure to the outside world and its religiously threatening elements. They depict the ‘equal rights’ and privileges of women on shlichus, describing the uniqueness of this somewhat ‘egalitarian’ phenomenon within an otherwise ultra-traditional group. They explore the motives that they believe drive so many young, talented and charismatic couples to choose such a challenging life-long career, and describe how they maintain the high level of inspiration, stamina and perseverance that are essential for success in this vocation. Finally, they demonstrate how such families see themselves, as astonishing as this may seem, to be acting as emissaries of Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994), the seventh Rebbe of the Chabad Lubavitch dynasty [henceforth: ‘the Rebbe’]; who passed away in 1994.

Secondly, and most importantly, we have an attempt to present the life-story of the Rebbe, the man who created this mission, and the one who, to this day, inspires those who have embraced it. The authors do not merely endeavor to reconstruct the factual data of his life, much of which, they allege, is shrouded in mystery, but they also venture to penetrate the deepest recesses of his psyche. They purport to reveal his unspoken thoughts, feelings, incentives, and they sometimes even second guess his actions or reactions at any given time of his life. As Sue Fishkoff has put it, Heilman and Friedman “take a psycho-bio approach to Schneerson’s life, trying to get inside the man’s head to uncover his motivation” [2] – a tall order indeed!

Although the biography of the Rebbe and the history of his movement are presented as intrinsically intertwined, the critical analysis I offer hereby, will focus primarily on the biographical section of the book. I propose to appraise the methodology of its authors, their sources, inferences, pre-suppositions and conclusions, and ultimately judge the quality of this biography as a work of scholarly research. At the conclusion, however, I will also make some remarks that are relevant to the work of the Chabad emissaries and the future of their mission, inasmuch as these are related to the concept of the Messiah and Redemption, subjects that are central to both the biographical and sociological sections of Heilman and Friedman’s work.

A reliable biography of a 20th century figure usually relies on several sources of information: (a) hard documentation; (b) autobiographical testimony of the subject; (c) [interviews with eye] witnesses; (d) anecdotal evidence and hearsay: “mi-pee ha-shemuah”; (e) the objective, un-prejudiced analysis and interpretation of a, b, c and d.

The subject of the biography will be ‘constructed’ by the reasonable and balanced usage of these five construction tools. This equilibrium requires that priority is given to (a) over (b) and (c) over (d) etc. [To an extent, the credentials of the biographer as a historian in general can be tested by the way he utilizes these five informants].

It is, working from this vantage point that I proceed to explore the work of Heilman and Friedman. But before I commence this task, a preliminary remark is called for. [3]

[1] In their first endnote on the book Heilman and Friedman express surprise that Lubavitch emissaries are referred to as shluchim: “The precise Hebrew or Yiddish word for emissaries would be ‘shlichim,’ but for whatever reason, Lubavitchers have chosen to use the term ‘shluchim,’ perhaps to distinguish themselves from all other types of emissaries, religious or otherwise.” Heilman and Friedman, chapter 1, note 1. This comment bespeaks ignorance in the Hebrew language. Whilst it is true that in Modern Hebrew (the Ivrit of Ben Yehudah) the plural shlichim is used, in rabbinic Hebrew (and therefore Yiddish) it is virtually unused. The term shluchim and its derivatives are found in hundreds of places in rabbinic writings.

[2] Sue Fishkoff, “New bios of Lubavitcher rebbe dig for the man behind the myth,” Jewish Telegraphic Agency (17th May 2010), available here (http://www.jta.org/news/article/2010/05/17/2394846/new-bios-of-lubavitcher-rebbe-dig-for-the-man-behind-the-myth).

[3] There are those who would have it that only non-Israeli’s can pass judgment on the Arab-Israeli conflict; only indifferent Jews can assess the qualities of Jewish Orthodoxy; only atheists can write impartially about religion; and only academic sociologists can write objective history. I disagree.

I am an orthodox Jew. I consider myself to be a disciple of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, and although I studied in other Yeshivot (Manchester and Gateshead), and I am familiar with a broad array of orthodox theologies, my main training was in Lubavitch. Nevertheless I consider myself to be a fair and reasonable thinker, even with regards to matters that relate to Judaism, orthodoxy, and, yes, Lubavitch. I acknowledge that I may not be able to achieve the maximum possible degree of objectivity with regard to any of the above, but on the other hand, I believe that my first-hand experience of Jewish, Orthodox and Chasidic life affords me advantages that outside scholars often lack.

Moreover, as many recent studies have demonstrated, the vantage point of the outsider is not always free from bias and prejudice. All too often, the so-called detached scholars have their own axes to grind. Not all ‘external’ expertise is objective, and, not all insiders are blind. I therefore appeal to readers to avoid pre-judging the value of my essay, by resorting to the knee-jerk: “Well, he is a Lubavitcher; what else do you expect him to say?!” Rather, listen to my argumentation, look up the sources, and judge for yourself with the maximum possible degree of objectivity that you are able to achieve.

Chaim Rapoport, “The Afterlife of Scholarship: A Critical Exploration of Samuel Heilman and Menachem Friedman’s Presentation of the Rebbe’s Life,” the Seforim blog (14 June 2010): 3, available here (http://seforim.blogspot.com/2010/06/chaim-rapoport-review.html).

 

One of the hidden giants of the seforim world both in ultra orthodox and academic circles is a man known as Rabbi Shmuel Askenazi. Professor Zev Gris writes about him:

אני ובני דורי נוכל להעיד על בור סיד שאין מחשב שידמה לו, כר’ שמואל אשכנזי גמלאי מפעל הביבליוגרפיה העברית”) הספר כסוכן תרבות מראשית הדפוס עד לעת החדשה, לימוד ודעת במחשבה יהודית (תשסו) עמ’ 257).

 

This man has authored many books and hundreds of articles in dozens of journals – both academic and charedi. Besides for authoring so much he has assisted many people in both circles helping in many areas of the Jewish literature. At times he is acknowledge and thanked and other times not. A few years back, a partial bibliography of his writings was printed in a work called Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zera. This book was a start of an attempt to print all of his writings in a multi-volume set. R. Askenazi has been writing and collection information on thousands of topics for close to seventy years. Unfortunately, he did not print much of what he gathered. The main reason for this omission is R. Ashkenzi’s “weakness” for incredible levels of perfection. When he printed his Alfa Beta Kadmita de-Shmuel Zera he proofread it seven times (the work is over 800 pages!). [If the editors of this blog attempted to emulate that level of perfection, there would be, perhaps, one post a year.]  Now to understand the significance of this one has to know that one of his many specialties is his incredible ability to find mistakes in grammar, typos and the like – a master proofreader. It is as if he has like a homing device built in as soon as he sees the printed text he notices the mistakes. Now after his sefer went to press he still found mistakes and it disturbed him greatly. He learned from this an important lesson which he already knew.

 

לא עליך המלאכה לגמור

 

For personal reasons the project that began a few years back was stopped by R. Askenazi. Two years ago the project was restarted again by others. He and these people have been working daily to prepare the writing for print. To date this project has gotten very far in preparing for print his writings. Two volumes of over five hundred pages are ready to go, a few more are almost near completion. The only thing holding back the printing is funds to print the volumes. No one is making money off the project the hope is that if enough funds to cover the printing of the first few are raised than the sales will hopefully be enough to cover the printing of the rest. We are talking about multiple volumes as this is one man’s writings of over seventy years. Not everything that he gathered is worth printing and heavy editing is done as with many of the available data bases what he gathered today is not worth much as a quick search on these data bases will find the same thing. The topics that these works deal with are virtually everything on some level, sources on expressions, minhaghim, dininm, evolvement of famous stories, bibliography corrections of authors encyclopedia style information on thousands of topics culled from thousands of seforim many very rare or unknown. There are also thousands of letters to authors and professor’s containing notes on their works additional sources of their work etc; In addition there are R. Askenazei notes on tefilah, piyut, Chumash, Shas, Zohar, and from other seforim that he marked down on the side. It is a work that almost anyone interested in the Jewish book will find many things to enjoy. I hope that you can help contribute I know very well that the financial times are very hard but even a little bit can assist this project move forward. For more information please e mail me at eliezerbrodt-at-gmail.com. We are printing here for the first time, a chapter from one of the books which is print ready.

על ספר שמות חכמים, קיצור תולדות רבותינו הראשונים,
אברהם מאיר וייס, בני ברק, תשס”ט
מאת
עקביא שמש

In a recent post at the Michtavim blog entitled “Derashot Shel Maran: A Little Studied Aspect of Maran Ovadiah Yosef’s Weltanschauung,” I discuss a shift within the research and writings of Dr. Kimmy Caplan from the area of sermons of historical American rabbis to the contemporary haredi community and contemporary Orthodox historiography (the latter which will be the subject of an upcoming post at the Michtavim blog). I believe that his varied areas of research have reunited in his recent article, “Studying Haredi Mizrahim in Israel: Trends, Achievements, and Challenges,” in Peter Y. Medding, ed., Studies in Contemporary Jewry, vol. 22 (Sephardic Jewry and Mizrahi Jews) (Oxford & New York: Oxford University Press, 2007), 169-192, specifically as he discusses the differences in the Friday night and Motzei Shabbat sermons of Maran Ovadiah Yosef, in the selection quoted at the Michtavim blog.

See the post here.

In a previous post at the Seforim blog, Prof. Elliott Horowitz of Bar Ilan University and co-editor of Jewish Quarterly Review, described Edmund Wilson’s unique Christmas card and some thoughts on the Talmud [see here].

This is his third contribution to the Seforim blog. We hope that you enjoy.

Although there have been some fine reviews of the collection of letters by Isaiah Berlin published in England under the title Flourishing: Letters 1928-1946 (Chatto and Windus, 2004), and in the United Sates (by Cambridge University Press) under the subtitle of the British edition,[1] not much attention has been given to the candid comments included therein about some of the twentieth century’s leading rabbis and Jewish scholars. Moreover, although one of the reviewers (Ilan Stavans in Forward) commented on the “overzealousness of its editor” Henry Hardy in annotating and contextualizing Berlin’s letters “to the point of dizziness,” this zealousness is less than excessive in his annotations of the letter written by Berlin, who had recently become the first Jew to be elected to a fellowship at Oxford’s All-Souls College, from Jerusalem to his parents in London on the first day of Rosh Ha-Shana, 1934 (pp. 96-98). Among the Jerusalemites he mentions having met since arriving a week earlier are “Dr. Scholem the Kabbalist,” “Baneth of the University,” and “Meir Berlin” – all of whom are dutifully identified by Hardy. The Volozhin-born Berlin, who settled in Jerusalem in 1926 and later changed his name to Bar-Ilan, is described by Isaiah (to whom he was not related) as a “clever cunning man with an unpleasant son in law, who teaches the Yerushalmi at the University.” Hardy informs the reader that the Yerushalmi is “the Jerusalem or Palestinian Talmud,” but he has not been as “overzealous” about identifying the “unpleasant son in law,” who, as most readers of the Seforim blog have already recognized, was Saul Lieberman, who completed his MA at the Hebrew University in 1931 and married the former Judith Berlin in the following year.

In April of 1943, while serving at the British Embassy in Washington, Isaiah dryly informed his parents that “there were some serious social complications about the Sedarim this year (428).” Among those who had invited him were Chaim Weizmann (sometimes referred to as “Charles” in Berlin’s letters), the latter’s “factotum, a certain Weisgal,” and “Meyer (sic) Berlin and his daughter Judith.” Hardy explains what “Sedarim” are, identifies “[Meyer Wolf] Weisgal,” and provides the information that Judith Berlin Lieberman was “married to talmudic scholar Saul Lieberman. (428-29)” Somehow, however, he fails to connect this son-in -law of Berlin’s, who by that time had become a professor at New York’s Jewish Theological Seminary, with the “unpleasant” man who during the previous decade had taught Yerushalmi at the Hebrew University. One of the factors complicating Isaiah’s decision as to where to spend the Sedarim of 1943 was that three of his potential hosts – Meir Berlin, Vera Weizmann, and Tamar de Sola Pool (wife of Rabbi David de Sola Pool and president of Hadassah) – were “reciprocally not on speaking terms,” and thus “to go to one is to insult the other two automatically.” He spent the first Seder with the Weizmann’s and the second, which was “fantastic,” with Meyer Weisgal. Consequently, as he explained to his parents, he found himself in the position of having to “grovel to Rabbi Meyer Berlin…and Mrs Tamar de Sola Pool, great Zionist powers with whom diplomatic relations must be preserved. (430-31).”

In a subsequent letter to the British diplomat Angus Malcolm, however, Berlin referred the Mizrachi leader less charitably as “Rabbi M. Berlin of Palestine and Riverside Drive, an enemy of Weizmann and a clerical maximalist (438).” Although Weizmann (who died in 1952) and Bar-Ilan (who died three years earlier) had their differences, both now have universities named after them – in only one of which, it may be added, is the Yerushalmi taught.

Note:
[1] See, for example, Geoffrey Wheatcroft, “The Book of Isaiah,” The New York Times (June 27, 2004): 11; Simon Schama, “Flourishing,” The New Republic (January 31, 2005): 23-30.

Edmund Wilson, Hebrew, Christmas, and the Talmud
by Elliott Horowitz

As is well known, during the 1950’s Edmund Wilson, the great (and perhaps greatest) American man of letters, began studying Hebrew, both in order to read the Hebrew Bible on his own, and in order to write in an informed manner about the controversies surrounding the recently discovered Dead Sea Scrolls. As Shalom Goldman noted in his excellent chapter on Wilson in God’s Sacred Tongue: Hebrew and the American Imagination (Chapel Hill, 2004), Wilson “delighted in teasing his Jewish friends” about their having jettisoned their (usually limited) Hebraic learning while he was steadily increasing his. As an example, Goldman cites the Christmas card Wilson sent to Alfred Kazin in 1952, which included (in Hebrew) the words “I shall learn Hebrew,” followed by the Wilsonian barb: “I’ll bet you can’t read this.”

If one consults the card itself, reproduced in Edmund Wilson, Letters on Literature and Politics, 1912-1972 ed., Elena Wilson (New York, 1977), it may be seen that before the oddly vocalized words “elmod lashon yisrael,” Wilson added, in the same square script, the blessing “barukh ata la-shem” – probably the first time these words (with the actual tetragrammaton) were used in a Christmas greeting.

Readers of the Seforim blog may also be interested in a subsequent letter of Wilson’s to the Brooklyn-born Kazin, written from the New Yorker office in October 1954, shortly after the article on the Dead Sea Scrolls was completed.

Of course, daf yomi tapes were not yet available…

ManuscriptBoy:

Moritz Steinschneider’s online presence has been significantly augmented by the Jewish National Library’s Digitized Book Repository. They seem to have scanned all of his German books, as well as the Hebrew translation of his general work ‘Sifrut Yisrael’.

And also includes an interesting anecdote that

someone once told me how Prof. Moshe Bar Asher shut himself in a room for a couple of days, and emerged having taught himself Ugaritic.

Published several weeks ago, Rabbi Hillel Goldberg, Executive Editor of both the Intermountain Jewish News and of Tradition, has written a ‘Review Essay‘ (“Discontinuities: The Case of Saul Lieberman,” reviewing Elijah J. Schochet and Solomon Spiro’s Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work), in Tradition 40:3 (Fall 2007): 69-75. A PDF of this article is only available to subscribers to TraditionOnline and/or members of the Rabbinical Council of America.

While the aim of a “Review Essay” is usually focused on broadening the perspective of a particular topic with the author making use of the most recent contributions from within the extant scholarly literature, “Discontinuities: The Case of Saul Lieberman” lacks any such focus.

Continue reading this post (“Rabbi Hillel Goldberg on Prof. Saul Lieberman”) at the Michtavim blog.

In honor of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the publication of Professor Yosef Hayim Yerushalmi’s Zakhor: Jewish History and Jewish Memory, the Jewish Quarterly Review published a special forum with articles by David N. Myers, Moshe Idel, Peter N. Miller, Gavriel D. Rosenfeld, Sidra DeKoven Ezrahi and Amnon Raz-Krakotzkin, in the latest issue of Jewish Quarterly Review 97.4 (Fall 2007).

Jewish Quarterly Review, established in 1889 and currently the oldest English-language journal in the field of Jewish studies, is published by the University of Pennsylvania’s Center for Advanced Judaic Studies. Elliott Horowitz of Bar Ilan University and David N. Myers of UCLA are the editors of Jewish Quarterly Review. (Full disclosure: I am the Editorial Intern of Jewish Quarterly Review).

In memory of Moritz Steinschneider’s unrivaled studies in Hebrew Bibliography and the actuality of his research 100 years after his death an International Centennial Conference will be held in Berlin (November 20-22, 2007). For the conference program, see here.

Benjamin Richler and Charles H. Manekin, among others, will be presenting at the conference and Dr. Manekin will covering the conference for the Seforim blog. See also Dr. Charles H. Manekin’s earlier post (“Moritz Steinschneider’s Indecent Burial”) at the Seforim blog.

For those who have not seen the obituary notice in the New York Times (Aug 14, 2007; B6), the Seforim blog records the passing of Rabbi Dr. Noah Rosenbloom, a pulpit rabbi for over fifty years and longtime faculty member at Yeshiva University’s Stern College for Women.

He was the author of Luzzatto’s Ethico-Psychological Interpretation of Judaism: A Study in the Religious Philosophy of Samuel David Luzzatto (New York: Yeshiva University, 1965); Tradition in an Age of Reform: The Religious Philosophy of Samson Raphael Hirsch (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1976); Malbim: Exegesis, Philosophy, Science and Mysticism in the Writings of Rabbi Meir Lebush Malbim (Hebrew; Jerusalem: Mossad ha-Rav Kook, 1988), among other scholarly articles and books.

Noah Rosenbloom received his rabbinic ordination from RIETS and his graduate dissertations were entitled: “The God-Ideas of the Leading Hebrew Poets During the Period 1933-1948” (PhD, New York University, 1958) and “The ‘Taz’ and Its Author: A Study of the Life and Work of Rabbi David Halevi, author of the ‘Turei Zahav'” (DHL, Yeshiva University, 1948).

Moritz Steinschneider’s Indecent Burial
Charles H. Manekin
University of Maryland, College Park / Bar Ilan University

What sort of recognition has posterity accorded to one of the great scholars of Judaism, arguably the greatest of the nineteenth century? Sadly, Steinschneider’s contribution to the history of Jewish literature in all its aspects has gone virtually unnoticed outside a small circle of scholars. If he is remembered at all, it as a cold, antiquarian scholar who reportedly said that “the task of Jewish studies is to provide the remnants of Judaism with a decent burial.” This is the portrait, or better, caricature, of Steinschneider drawn by Gershom Scholem in his well-known diatribe against Wissenschaft published in 1945.[3] Scholem, an ardent zionist, viewed Steinschneider and his mentor Zunz as “gravediggers” and “liquidators” of the Jewish national values that they considered no longer relevant after the advent of emancipation and liberalism. Scholem’s negative evaluation of Steinschneider’s scholarly motivation and outlook in no way implied a disparagement of the nineteenth-century scholar’s achievements. On the contrary, Scholem writes in the Hebrew edition of his memoir From Berlin to Jerusalem “Despite the enormous distance I felt from the men of the [Wissenchaft] group, I revered Steinschneider and pursued his works, major and minor, as well as off-prints of his articles, all of my life.”[4] He also relates that as a university student, his familiarity with Steinschneider endeared him to his teacher, and later doktorvater, the great scholar of scholastic philosophy, Clemens Bäumker. I come here not to praise Steinschneider, but rather to bury him more decently than did Scholem. To do so I will sketch a preliminary picture of his contribution to the ideology of Wissenschaft des Judentums that is less biased than the polemical one offered by Scholem. I say “preliminary” because Steinschneider made few theoretical statements on the subject of Wissenschaft. His views on that subject, like on so many others, must be gleaned from his voluminous writings and correspondence. For over a century articles on Steinschneider have begun with a call for a full-fledged intellectual biography of the man. That call has not yet been answered. Steinschneider’s principal reflections on Wissenschaft are found in his short essay, Die Zukunft der jüdischen Wissenschaft, published in1869, a half-century after Zunz had issued his programmatic-statement on Etwas über die rabbinische Literatur.[5] The science of Judaism during the last fifty years, writes Steinschneider, was motivated externally by the struggle for emancipation and internally by the desire for religious reform. Scholars thought that examining the Jewish achievements of the past would pave the way for greater acceptance of the Jews in the present, and would provide models and precedents for modernizing the religion. In recent years, a third motivation for Wissenschaft has been proposed, namely, the training of modern rabbis, and a modern rabbinical seminary in Breslau had been opened. But as important as these practical motivations were, they do not address other fundamental questions: “What about Jewish history and literature as a link and source of history and cultural history in general? Is it a part of theology? What will become of it if the universities, according to the Dutch example, leave theology as a practical science to the care of the various religious communities?” “Where and how should this academic study be conducted — in Jewish communal institutions or in German universities? “Where will it find its support — in the community or the government?” Although Steinschneider’s expressed intent was merely to raise these questions, his personal opinions are not hard to infer from his article. The task of scholars of Judaism is to investigate their subject as objectively as possible, without ideological tendencies, and in its intellectual and historical context, i.e., as connected with other cultures. This sort of study can be conducted best only in universities, not in the faculty of theology, whose focus is narrowly religious, but in the faculty of philosophy, i.e., the humanities. Jewish religious seminaries, even modern ones, are primarily interested in the training of rabbis; they focus almost exclusively on areas of importance to Jewish theology, and their students and faculty are exclusively Jewish. Jewish studies within the framework of even the most enlightened seminary cannot be free and independent. Who should support Wissenschaft? Steinschneider implies that this is an obligation for the state and not for the Jewish community, not only because of the general importance of exploring civilization’s past — after all, the state supports scientific research into the pyramids and the ruins of Pompeii — but because “the spirit that created the great works of Jewish literature is still alive in the citizens of their state.” This is an interesting argument which refutes, by the way, the view of Steinschneider as a curator of a dead or dying religion. For he seems to be implying that the state has a special obligation to support the research and teaching of subjects that inform the identity, even the group identity, of minorities within the state. In fact, there should be no difference in principle between minority and majority cultures. According to Steinschneider — again, by implication — as long as the state supports the education of Christian teachers of religion, it has the obligation to support Jewish teachers of religions, through supporting Jewish seminaries. Certainly Steinschneider was aware that the likelihood of the German state supporting the teaching of Jewish history and literature in universities, much less Jewish religion in seminaries, was remote. In fact, not a single chair devoted to Jewish history or literature was established in German universities until well after World War II. He was also aware that private money — Jewish, of course — would have to be found to support academic Jewish studies. In a letter written to his friend, the historian Meyer Kayserling in 1876, in which he refused Kayserling’s offer of a position at the Budapest Rabbinical Seminary, he writes, It seems to me that the task of our times is to prefer the endowment of untenured instructorships in Jewish history and literature in the philosophy faculties, thereby compelling the authorities to establish professorships and schools in which regular high school students can be prepared for the study of Jewish literature. We certainly do not want boarding schools in which bachurische clumsiness, impoliteness, and beggarliness is preserved and glossed-over.[6] The last statement reveals Steinschneider’s prejudices against the Eastern European yeshiva students who made up a good proportion of the students at the rabbinical seminaries. The aims of Wissenschaft required the proper preparation of students in high schools. For this Jewish donors had to be found. In the same letter Steinschneider claims that his principled opposition to Jewish Studies outside the university did not conflict with his own association with the Veitel Heine Ephraimschen Leharanstalt (Beth ha-midrasch), the old school of the Berlin Jewish community. Steinschenider was a part-time lecturer for nearly fifty years for that institution, which counted Jews and Christians, including Paul Lagarde, Georg Hoffman, and Hermann Strack, among its students. The school was open to all, its faculty all had university doctorates, and it did not confer doctoral degrees. Steinschneider had declared publicly that he would resign were it to offer a single doctorate.[7] Steinschneider did not address a question that has remained with us to this very day, namely, why wealthy Jewish individuals would wish to endow instructorships in Jewish history and literature at German universities, where the return to the Jewish community was neither immediate nor guaranteed. Perhaps he thought that he could get others to share his own passion for the study of what he called the “international literature of the Jews,” e.g., works of philosophy, science, medicine, and belles-lettres. After all, his teaching had been supported, in part, by the Berlin Jewish community for half a century. And, to my knowledge, at this stage of his life he expressed neither pessimism nor apprehension about the future of the academic study of Judaism. Nor is there any support, at least to my knowledge, for the strange idea that Steinschneider became progressively detached from Judaism culture or religion, or that he saw its inevitable assimilation into secular culture. Steinschneider remained throughout his adult life a liberal Jew whose ideals were those of the enlightenment and the revolution of 1848, in which he took part as a student. In the remarkable credo that makes up the Foreword to one of his last works, Die Arabische Literatur der Juden, he lashes out against those who use the insufficiency of reason, “this weapon of all kinds of unreason,” to justify “the forcing of myths in new clothes or of monstrosities of fantasy, let alone the clinging to institutions of fake authority or to obsolete customs.”[8] Given that this line follows a reference to the zoologist Ernst Haeckel, it is clear that Steinschneider is taking aim against the myths of racial supremacies, which he felt had replaced the myth of religious supremacies. His reference to the “obsolete customs of religion” reaffirmed his decades-long abandonment of orthodoxy, nothing more. But nothing in the Forward suggests a weakened commitment to Judaism per se, not even the claim that “it is the task of whoever feels entitled to lead the sum [of society] to stress what is common to the different circles of mankind, to point towards the ‘one Father of us all’ – towards what brings human beings nearer to each other.”[9] Steinschneider expresses these sentiments in a book chronicling the Jewish literature that was dearest to his heart, that of the Jews living in Muslim lands. After characterizing Ashkenazic Jewish life as one of “segregation in government, trade and society; expulsion, inquisition, agitation, and persecution” and Ashkenazic Jews as possessing “a surplus of mental acumen, squandered in casuistic and hermeneutical quibbles, faith and superstition linked to each other like Siamese twins,” he writes in an intensely personal passage, The historian likes to direct his attention to places where a human existence was granted to the tolerated subject, an existence in which his spirit was allowed to soar above and beyond the national barriers towards the highest existential questions. Such a person believed to have attained already on earth the ideal of human thought, the conjunction with the active intellect.[10] Steinschneider strongly identified with a literature that was not confined by the narrow parochialism of a national culture. He was under no illusion that such a literature was representative of Judaism, much less than it constituted its “essence.” With his unparalleled knowledge of Jewish books, he knew precisely what its place had been. But it was a literature with which he felt a strong personal affinity, and which reinforced the Jewishness of his commitment to liberalism and universalism, at a time when the growth of nationalism and antisemitism had made him pessimistic. As for Steinschneider’s alleged comment that it is the task of scholars to provide the remnants of Judaism with a decent burial, it has not been found in his writings, but was attributed to him in a necrology published shortly after his death in the German zionist periodical Jüdische Rundschau by the young orientalist Gotthold Weil, who had recently been one of Steinschneider’s students.[11] Weil had participated in the short-lived zionist “National-jüdische Verein der Hörer an der Lehranstalt für die Wissenschaft des Judentums in Berlin,” which numbered among its members Arthur Biram, Judah Magnes, and Max Schloesinger.[12] An active zionist leader in Germany, he later came to the Hebrew University of Jerusalem after the Nazis dismissed him from his post as professor of oriental literature at the university of Frankfurt. The context of Steinschneider’s reported comment is a discussion that Weil conducted with Steinschneider about the latter’s alleged proto-zionistic activity in his youth, when he supported Jewish colonization in Palestine as a possible solution for anti-Jewish discrimination in Germany. One imagines that this was a topic of considerable interest among Steinschneider’s zionist students, considering the elderly scholar’s open antagonism towards zionism. According to Weil, Steinschneider admitted to participating in a scheme in the1830’s to further the colonization of persecuted German Jews in Palestine. But he felt that the events of 1848 obviated the need for a separatist political solution to the Jewish problem. According to Steinschneider, Weil informs us, the history of the Jews had ceased in 1848 and that as a result, “the only task we have left is of giving the remains of Judaism a decent burial.”[13] It is easy to see how political zionists like Weil and Scholem would see an offhand comment as an epitaph for Jewish people as a nation; according to Scholem, “a breath of the funereal did in fact cling to the atmosphere of this discipline for a century; occasionally there is something ghostlike about this literature.”[14] They interpreted Steinschneider as holding that Jewish national existence was rendered obsolete by political emancipation, and that assimilation was inevitable and desirable. But there is no indication from Steinschneider’s writings that the scholar felt that the end of Jewish history, or for that matter, the extinction of the Jews as a “nation” had occurred in 1848, or that it was inevitable or even desirable. True, political emancipation had at least in principle removed the necessity for the Jews to segregate themselves in their own land in order to escape persecution. But almost fifty years later Steinschneider would write that the Jews indeed constituted a nation, in the original meaning of that word…united, at least thus far, by an ideal fatherland and Scripture reaching back into their remotest antiquity…We affirm, in fact, that the concept “Jewish” cannot be understood merely in terms of dogmas and rituals, but that the entire Jewish cultural evolution must be viewed as a mirror of the underlying religious and moral ideas and national convictions.[15] It was not the history of the Jews that ceased in 1848, according to Steinschneider, but the history of the Jews as an entity that required a political solution in its own state. He considered anti-Jewish discrimination not to be a Jewish problem but rather a human problem that should be solved within the confines of the modern liberal state. What Steinschneider increasingly detested was the romanticism, sentimentality, and separatism that he found in nationalism in general and zionism in particular. Not a great admirer of nationalism to begin with — according to Weil, he would occasionally say that “Nationalism is brutality; humanity is freedom and truth” — he never missed an opportunity to show his despisal of romantic Jewish nationalism, even in the oddest of places. Thus in his great work on the Hebrew translations of the Middle Ages, while mentioning that Judah ha-Levy had been driven to emigrate to Palestine by a somewhat mystical — another disparaging term for Steinschneider — national sentiment, he adds in a footnote that the Hungarian scholar David Kauffman, “der Apologet von Daniel Deronda,” called such an attraction “realistic.”[16] This was a disparaging reference to Kaufmann’s enthusiastic review of George Eliot’s proto-zionistic novel that Steinschneider had sharply criticized.[17] The reference, completely out of place in a footnote on translations of Halevy, showed how passionate this supposedly cold, rationalist scholar could be on the subject of Jewish national revival. Steinschneider’s ironic remark to his student Weil on the task of scholars of Wissenschaft is best seen within the context of his deeply rooted antipathy towards zionism, as well as his opposition towards tendentious scholarship of all sorts. The task of Jewish scholarship, he wished to say, is not to serve the interests of Jewish political interests, national or otherwise. “My intention,” he wrote in 1902 “is the most objective and historical portrayal possible, neither apologetically nor polemically painted, nor nationally or theologically prepared.”[18] Steinschneider intended to produce an objective scholarship possible that avoids apologetics, polemics with Christians, nationalism, and theology. Given this antipathy, his comment to Weil was perhaps intended to preach the gospel of independent scholarship. Although his students may have thought that the task of Wissenschaft was to help revive the spirit of the nation, Steinschneider did not. Given his negative views of Graetz,[19] it is not difficult to see how he would have viewed the excesses of the Jewish nationalist historians of the twentieth century. But this explanation of Steinschneider’s comment seems inadequate. For there are many ways to emphasize the virtues of objective scholarship without using the image of death and burial. Why did he employ this particular phrase? Perhaps his remark should be read as an ironic appropriation of Samuel Raphael Hirsch’s attack on Wissenschaft des Judentums. Hirsch wrote that the scholars of Wissenshaft keep alive the memory of the old Judaism as it is carried to its grave; in another metaphor of death, he called Wissenschaft “the fine dust wafting from the stone coffins of moldering corpses.”[20] Steinschneider was a master of the ironic retort. Perhaps he was saying to his student Weil, “Just as Hirsch and the orthodox have said, we are burial societies — let’s at least make sure that the burial is an honorable one.” On the other hand, Steinschneider may have been genuinely pessimistic about the future of the Jews in Germany, not because of assimilation, but because of the steep rise of antisemitism in the last two decades of the nineteenth-century. In 1893 he writes “The history of the daughter religions is a constant series of attempts to murder their own mother; if one of them ever succeeds, the crime will bring down the criminal.”[21] Nine years later he commented dryly on a historical pamphlet written by a Prussian gymnasium teacher that calls on Germany to emulate the example of Spain and Portugal and expel its Jews. “The self-appointed historian wisely omits that the brutality of the mob was aroused not only by bull fights but by the live burnings of hundreds of Jews and apostates.”[22] Steinschneider feared German nationalism, according to Weil. Perhaps he felt that the remains of Judaism deserved a decent burial because the Jews themselves were in for difficult times from antisemitism. But these are mere speculations. It is futile to read too much into the sarcastic quip of an aged scholar, which, if reported accurately, was never intended for publication. Can there be anything more indecent than having this comment serve as the summation of Steinschneider’s attitude towards the academic study of Judaism, or the task of its scholars? It is not surprising that both neo-Orthodox Jews like Hirsch and secular Zionists like Scholem assigned to the practitioners of Wissenschaft the role of gravediggers of Jewish nationalism.[23] If their visions of the Jewish nationalism were not only mutually exclusive but exhaustive, then it is a role that Steinschneider would have accepted willingly. But his vision of the Jewish nation was different from theirs. It is ironic that in articulating the differences between the visions of Wissenschaft “now” and “then,” Scholem reaffirmed much of the vision of Steinschneider – not of Steinschneider the “gravedigger,” but of Steinschneider the advocate of an open, unapologetic, and untendentious scholarship that only a university-setting could enable. Steinschneider would indeed have been pleased with the establishment of centers of the academic study of Judaism, such as the Institute of Jewish Studies at Hebrew University, where, in Scholem’s words, “everyone is free to say and to each whatever corresponds to his scholarly opinion without being bound to any religious (or anti-religious) tendency.”[24] After all, Steinschneider was the most consistent advocate of the idea that Jewish studies can only flourish in such an atmosphere. Scholem also reaffirmed Steinschneider’s distaste for nationalist history when he noted with regret that “the heritage of an apologetics in reverse, an apologetics which now, so to speak, has revised everything in terms of zionism, has produced notable examples in our scholarly work.”[25] Steinschneider consistently opposed apologetic scholarship of all kind. In sum, what connects the scholarship of Steinschneider and Scholem seems vastly to outweigh the differences, once we have adjusted the scale to allow for changing tastes and fashions in scholarship. The view of the Jewish people as a living and organic phenomenon was no doubt foundational in Scholem’s scholarly approach, but the growth in Jewish studies in the second half of the twentieth century had more to do with the sociology, economic abilities, and changing identities of the Jewish communities than with the growth of Jewish national consciousness. More to the point — if the “antiquarian” scholarship of the nineteenth century had given way to the “scientific and empirical” scholarship of the twentieth – both of Scholem’s phrases seem a bit quaint today – the reason was not because of Jews had undergone a national revival, but because scholarly tastes and methods had changed. Steinschneider’s scholarly approach was no more “antiquarian” than that of contemporary orientalists like LeClerc, Wenrich, or Wüstenfeld; just as Scholem’s scholarly approach was shaped by his intellectual training and cultural context. One shouldn’t make judgments about the scholarship of a bygone age by using contemporary fashions as a yardstick. The presence of university-trained scholars in the history of medieval Jewish culture and history would have pleased Steinschneider greatly, even more so when he learned that some of the leading scholars are not Jewish. One suspects that here too Scholem would agree. Notes: This post for the Seforim blog — dedicated to Dan Rabinowitz’s weekly shiur following hashkamah minyan at his local synagogue — is based on my article, “Steinschneider’s ‘Decent Burial’: A Reassessment,” Study and Knowledge in Jewish Thought Vol. I., ed., Howard Kreisel (Jerusalem: Mossad Bialik, 2006), 239-251. [1]Some of the correspondence has recently been published. See Briefwechsel mit seiner Verlobten Auguste Auerbach, 1845-1849: ein Beitrag zur jüdischen Wissenschaft und Emanzipation, eds., Marie Louise Steinschneider and Renate Heuer (Frankfurt/New York, 1995). The longest biographical treatment is still Alexander Marx, “Moritz Steinschneider,” in his Essays in Jewish Biography (Philadelphia, 1947), 112-184. Marx has a very useful bibliography on pp. 294-95. For a list of Steinschneider’s writings, see George Alexander Kohut, “Bibliography of the Writings of Professor Dr. Moritz Steinschneider,” in Festschrift zum Achtzigsten Geburtstage Moritz Steinschneider’s (Leipzig, 1896), v-xxxix. Steinschneider’s secretary, Adeline Goldberg, published additions to the bibliography in Zeitschrift fur hebräische Bibliographie 5 (1901): 189-91; 9 (1905): 90-92; 13 (1909): 94-95. [2] Die Arabischen Überzetungen aus dem Griechischen (Leipzig, 1897) and Die Europäischen Übersetzungen aus dem Arabischen (Graz, 1956). See D. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early ‘Abbâsid Society (2nd-4th/8th-10th centuries) (London/New York, 1998), p. 195: “There is as of yet no modern bibliographical survey of the Arabic translations of all the Greek philosophers; Steinschneider’s Die Arabischen Überzetungen aus dem Griechischen remains the only single treatment.” [3] “Mi-tokh hirhurim al hokhmat yisrael” in Devarim be-go (Tel Aviv, 1975), pp. 385-405. This celebrated essay was published first in Luah ha-Arez and republished several times during Scholem’s lifetime. It has recently been translated into English by Jonathan Chipman as “Reflection on Modern Jewish Studies,” in On the Possibility of Jewish Mysticism in our Time and Other Essays, ed. A. Shapira (Philadelphia and Jerusalem, 1997), pp. 51-71. Scholem, who planned to publish a similar critique in Walter Benjamin’s journal in the early 20’s, returned to the same issue several times during his career, notably in “Wissenchaft vom Judentum einst und jetzt” (see n. 14 below) and “Hokhmat yisrael ve-yahadut” (“The Science of Judaism and Judaism,” which was printed in German, English, and Hebrew, in Perspectives of German-Jewish History in the 19th and 20th Centuries (Zur Geschichte der Juden in Deutsch-land im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert), the proceedings of a symposium on Jewish studies organized by Ephraim Urbach (Jerusalem, 1971) and reprinted in ‘Od Davar (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1989), pp. 143-5. For an assessment of the impact of Scholem’s zionism on his scholarship, see Daniel Abrams, “Presenting and Representing Gershom Scholem: A Review Essay,” Modern Judaism 20:2 (2000): 226-243. [4] Mi Berlin li-Yerushalayim (Tel Aviv, 1982), p. 141. This and most other comments about Steinschneider are not in the original German edition of the memoir, from which the English translation was made, but appear in the expanded German edition of the book based upon the Hebrew translation. See Von Berlin nach Jerusalem, trans. Michael Brocke and Andrea Schatz. Erweiterte Fassung (Frankfurt am Main, 1994), p. 148. Scholem’s enthusiasm for Steinschneider also earned him the favor of Prof. Aaron Freimann, who had served as librarian of the Judaica collection of the Frankfurt municipal library, and who had been Steinschneider’s student (Hebrew: 184, German: 193). One cannot but wonder why Scholem decided to add to the Hebrew version of his book several anecdotes testifying to his admiration for Steinschneider. [5] Hebraeische Bibliographie 9 (1869), pp. 76-78. A partial translation is offered by J. Hessing and P. Mendes-Flohr in Paul Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World: A Documentary History, Second Edition (New York and Oxford, 1995), pp. 230-2. I cite from that translation here, with slight emendation. [6] “Die Aufgabe unserer Zeit scheint mir vorzugsweise die zeitweileige Dotirung von Privatdocenten für jüd. Geschichte und Literatur an den Philosophischen Fakultäten, damit die Regierungen zur Errichtung von Professuren getrieben werden und Lehranstalten in welchen regelmässige Gymnasiasten sich für das Studium der hebr. Literatur vorbreiten können. Nur keine Internate, in welchem bachurische Unmanier, Unbeholfenheit und Bettelhaftigkeit in ihrem Dünkel erhalten und beschönigt werden. See Alexander Marx, “Steinschneideriana II,” in Jewish Studies in Memory of George A. Kohut, eds. Salo W. Baron and Alexander Marx (New York, 1935), pp. 492-527, esp. p. 521. [7] Ibid, p. 521. [8] Die Arabische Literatur der Juden (Frankfurt a. M., 1902), p. ix. [9] Ibid., p. x. [10] Ibid., p. viii. [11] No. 6, February 8, 1907, pp. 53-5. [12] See Yehuda Eloni, Ziyyonut be-Germaniyah mi-Reishitah ‘ad 1914 (Tel Aviv, 1991), p. 372 n. 55. [13] “Wir haben nur noch die Aufgabe die Ueberreste des Judentums ehrenvoll zu bestatten,“ p. 54. [14] See Scholem’s German Essay in the Bulletin of the Leo Baeck Institute 3 (1960):10-20; Hebrew version in De’ot 4:19 (1961), pp. 8-9, rept. in ‘Od Davar (Tel Aviv: Am Oved, 1989), pp. 136-142; English trans. by Michael Meyer in The Messianic Idea in Judaism and Other Essays on Jewish Spirituality (New York: 304-313.) The quotation is from Meyer’s translation on p. 307. [15] See Hebraeische Bibliographie 2 (1859): 82-83 (Steinschneider’s review of M. Kayserling’s Sephardim: Romanische Poesien der Juden in Spanien), as translated by S. Baron in, “Steinschneider’s Contributions to Historiography,” in Alexander Max, Jubilee Volume (New York, 1950), 83-148, esp. 90-1. [16] Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelaters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (Berlin, 1893), p. 402 n. 227. [17] Baron, “Steinschneider’s Contributions,” p. 135. [18] Die Arabische Literatur der Juden, p. viii. [19] Baron, “Steinschneider’s Contributions,” pp. 119-120. [20] See, for example, “Die Trauer des 9. Av,” Gesammelte Schriften (Frankfurt am Main, 1902), vol. 1, pp. 130-1. A partial translation is offered by J. Hessing in Paul Mendes-Flohr and Jehuda Reinharz, The Jew in the Modern World, pp. 234-5. [21] Die Hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters, p. xxiv. [22] Die Arabische Literatur der Juden, p. x, n. 1. [23] The similarity between the neo-Orthodox and Zionist critique is noticed by Mordecai Breuer in “Three Orthodox Approaches to Wissenschaft” (Hebrew), in the Jubilee Volume for R. Joseph Dov Soloveitchik (Jerusalem/New York, 1984), vol. 2, pp. 856-60, esp. p. 857. [24] “The Science of Judaism – Then and Now, ” trans. Meyer, p. 310. [25] Ibid., p. 312.