Three New Books

By Eliezer Brodt

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

The first title is printed by the World Congress of Jewish Studies:

פירוש רש”י לספר משלי, ההדירה והוסיפה מבוא והערות ליסה פרדמן

Lisa Fredman’s, Rashi’s Commentary on the Book of Proverbs is a critical edition of Rashi on Mishlei based on numerous manuscripts. It includes a very extensive introduction and many valuable notes throughout the volume. Critical editions of Rashi are always welcome and very important, sadly not enough of them exist. One section in the introduction which I found interesting relates to Rashi and his responding to Christians and Christianity specifically in his work on Mishlei.

Here is the table of contents for this work:

מגנזי אירופה כרך שני  ההדיר והוסיף מבואות, שמחה עמנואל, 408 עמודים

The Second volume which I am very happy to announce is the publication of an important work which I have been eagerly waiting for, Professor Simcha Emanuel of the Hebrew University’s Talmud department’s volume of texts from the “European Genizah”, volume two. This volume was just printed by Mekitzei Nirdamim and is being sold by Magnes Press. [Volume one was mentioned earlier on the blog here]. For a sample chapter e mail me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.

Professor Emanuel is considered one of the today’s greatest experts in Rishonic literature. He has produced numerous special works [such as this recent work, this, this and my favorite] and articles of both texts and material about them for quite some time. [Many of which are available here] All of which are of very high quality, showing an incredible breadth and depth in the material at hand. One area of specialty of his is finding long-lost works; this new volume continues this trend. It includes numerous newly discovered texts of Rishonim, with introductions and background of their importance and proof of identification. Some of the discoveries are simply put remarkable detective work, how he pieces together the various pieces of the puzzle.

The author writes in the abstract of the book as follows:

            The purpose of this volume, like its predecessor, is to uncover fragments of important Hebrew works hidden in the “European Genizah”. Thousands of pages of Hebrew manuscripts have been discovered in this “Genizah”, which is scattered in hundreds of libraries and archives throughout Europe and even beyond. In the late medieval and early modern eras, these pages were used to bind books and as folders of archival documents. In the first volume of this series, I published eleven new works from the “European Genizah”, prefacing them with a wide-ranging introduction about the nature of this “Genizah”. Nine additional works are published in the present volume.

            The works published herein are from a variety of genres: Biblical exegesis, Talmud commentary, halakhic literature, and liturgical interpretation. They appear in this volume in chronological order, from earliest to latest. The most significant of the works is also the work whose discovery required more effort than all of the others; it appears in the first chapter of the book. This work was written — I wish to argue — in ninth or tenth-century Palestine. It reveals valuable information on the history of halakhah in Palestine of that era, and also teaches a great deal about how Palestinian Traditions made their way to the European continent. This work still requires a great deal of study, and I hope that others come along to add to my words.   The fragments published here were identified in the collections of fourteen archives and libraries. These institutions, located throughout Europe, aptly reflect the dispersal of the European Geniza.

Here are the Table of Contents of this special work:

The third work is also printed by the World Congress of Jewish Studies.

שולמית אליצור, סוד משלשי קודש: הקדושתא מראשיתה ועד ימי רבי אלעזר בירבי קליר

This work Sod Meshalleshei Qodesh is written by Professor Shulamit Elizur (see here), one of the worlds leading experts on piyut. Some have claimed this work will change the study of piyut completely. In an interview published in Ami Magazine and reprinted with updates on the Seforim Blog (here) Elizur was asked:

Which sefer do you consider your biggest accomplishment— your magnum opus?”

She replied:

“The one I’m in the middle of writing right now. It’s a sefer on the history of the kedushta, which are the piyutim composed to be recited right before Kedushah. There are many chiddushim in that sefer and also things about Rabbi Elazar Hakalir that I discovered.”

This book is now out and is over one thousand pages!.

The following is the abstract of the book translated into English for the readers of the Seforim Blog by Dr. Gabriel Wasserman (and is not found in the actual book). This will give one a good idea of what the purpose of this work is:

Sod Meshalleshei Qodesh: The Qedushta From its Origins until the Time of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir

 A qedushta is a series of piyyutim for the ‘Amida prayer, which is expanded in honor of the recitation of the Qedusha, and includes many complex components. Its origins are in the Land of Israel, in the fourth or fifth century. We first see it as a constructed composition with set, complex, rules in the work of the poet Yannai, who lived in the mid-sixth century, the teacher of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir (who is known popularly as “the Qallir”). The qedushta, as it appears in the hundreds of compositions by Yannai and his followers, conceals many secrets: mysterious strings of biblical verses accompany its first components; a fixed biblical verse concludes the third component, followed by the strange words “El Na”; then comes a fourth component, whose structure is free, and always concludes, for some reason, with the word “Qadosh”; the fifth component in Yannai’s compositions is the ‘asiriya, a poem constructed of a truncated alphabetical acrostic from only aleph to yud, followed by a prayer beginning “El Na Le‘olam Tu‘aratz” – and it is unclear why this prayer appears here; then there is a group of poems called rahitim, which are written, for some reason, in unique, stereotypical structures. These are only a fraction of the various strange features of the qedushta’ot of Yannai and the other poets. The discussions in the book are dedicated to suggesting solutions to all these questions, and to others, and involve uncovering fragments of qedushta’ot that preceded Yannai; by examining these texts, they excavate the literary remains to construct a model of the gradual development of the qedushta over time, from its origins until it reached its complex structure in the days of Yannai and Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir.

The first section of the book, which is the largest, is devoted to this development of the qedushta, in all its elements, including those that follow the recitation of Qedusha. Naturally, this section deals with the piyyutim mostly from a structural point of view, for only such an analysis can enable a comprehensive look at the development of the genre. However, as a base for these structural analyses, this section contains the texts of many piyyutim, mostly pre-classical (from the period before Yannai, when the poets did not yet use rhyme). Alongside them are printed classical rhyming piyyutim, too, from the period of Yannai and his colleagues, and, in a few instances, even piyyutim from later periods.

The second section of the book focuses on one single poet: Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir, the most prolific of the classical poets in the Land of Israel, whose poems reached Europe, and some of them are recited in Ashkenazic and Italian synagogues through today. The qedushta’ot of Rabbi El‛azar berabbi Qillir are varied in both their structures and their styles, much more than those of Yannai; this section is devoted to an analysis of these compositions, and an attempt to map out which ones are earlier and which later. On the basis of precise structural analysis, the section builds a higher level of analysis – stylistic; and thus we see the picture of the great poet’s literary journey. It becomes clear that when he was started out, he was heavily influenced by the work of Yannai, and slowly he created new ways for himself: at first he went in the direction of obscurity and difficulty, which he gradually made more and more obscure; but then, in a later, more mature phase, he turned to pure lyrical song, which today’s reader, too, will find sweet.

The third section leaves aside the structural analyses, and suggests directions for further research. This section is short, and contains only first steps towards new directions in piyyut analysis. It focuses primarily on content, and ways that the qedushta’ot are organized, but it moves on to questions of how the qedushta is constructed as a complete composition, and points out various difficulties that the poets needed to overcome, and analyzes at length their literary solutions to these problems. Yannai stands at the center of the discussion in this section, but there are also notes about other poets. Most of the suggested directions for further research are new, and we hope that they will lead to further productive scholarship, and make it possible to study the piyyutim from angles that have hitherto been less examined.

Throughout the book, phenomena are demonstrated by means of the texts of piyyutim. More than 250 piyyutim are printed in the book, of which about 130 are being printed for the first time. Most of these piyyutim are from the earlier periods of piyyut, and their publication in this volume reveals the full contribution of these layers of the genre to our understanding of the history of the qedushta. Even the piyyutim that have already been printed elsewhere often were published in out-of-the-way publications, some of them with no vowels or commentary. It goes without saying that for this volume, these texts were all printed anew straight from the manuscripts. When pieces from Yannai’s work are cited to exemplify some point, an attempt has been made, inasmuch as possible, to use pieces that have not been included in the existing publications of his work, and thus the volume contributes a great amount of new material to the corpus of Yannai’s piyyutim. The volume as a whole is based on examination of hundreds of manuscripts, mostly from the Cairo Geniza, and these provide a wide, firm textual basis to the analysis.

The book is intended first and foremost for scholars, but it will also enable people interested in piyyut and its history from outside the world of academia to gain exposure to a great corpus of early piyyutim, among which are several stunningly beautiful gems, which are being published here for the first time.

For the Hebrew abstract email me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com

Here is the table of contents:

The Meaning of the Name “Maccabee”[1]

Mitchell First

     In a previous post at the Seforim blog, Dan Rabinowitz dealt with the topic of the origin of the name “Maccabee,” and made many interesting points,[2] although he did not adequately address the issues. My intention in this essay is to offer a more thorough discussion. The name מכבי/מקבי is not found in classical Tannaitic or Amoraic literature.[3] But this is not surprising. The name was originally an additional name for Judah only and there are no references to Judah in classical Tannaitic or Amoraic literature.[4] The earliest sources that include the name in some form are works preserved by the Church: I Maccabees and II Maccabees. (These are not the original titles of these works.) I Maccabees was originally written in Hebrew,[5] but what has survived is only a Greek translation from the Hebrew (and ancient translations made from this Greek translation). II Maccabees, an entirely different work, was written in Greek. In the early Church, I and II Maccabees were considered part of the Bible.[6] I Maccabees (2:2-5) tells us that Mattathias (=Matityahu) had five sons, and that each had another name. For Joudas (=Judah), the name was Makkabaios (Gr: Μακκαβαîος.)[7] The additional names were probably given to the sons to help distinguish them from others with the same name.[8] In I Maccabees, Makkabaios is used for Judah six times. In II Maccabees, it is used for him twenty-three times.[9] To determine whether the earliest spelling of the name in Hebrew was with a כ or a ק, one must guess from the double kappa in Makkabaios what the original Hebrew letter (or letters) would have been. Fortunately, this is not hard.

Although there are exceptions, there is a general pattern in the Greek translation of the Bible of transliterating כ with chi (χ), and ק with kappa (k).[10] Usually ק is transliterated with one kappa, but sometimes two kappas are used.[11] A transliteration of כ with two kappas is very rare.[12] These same patterns hold true in I and II Maccabees. For example, if we focus on I Maccabees,[13] and look at the Greek transliteration of names, places, and months whose Hebrew spelling is known from the Bible, we find: -transliterated with χ are: כלב, זכריה, מכמש, כתים, and כסלו; -transliterated with one kappa are: יעקב, עקרבים, תקוע ,אשקלון, קדש, and קרנים; -transliterated with two kappas are: [14]עקרון and [15]הקוץ. At no time in I Maccabees is כ transliterated with kappa.[16] Thus, the spelling of Makkabaios with two kappas points strongly to a ק in the original Hebrew or Aramaic,[17] and does not mandate assuming a קק. Moreover, an original מקקב would be extremely unlikely. Hebrew and Aramaic words do not ordinarily have 4 letter roots. If we make the alternative assumption that the initial mem was not a part of the root, this does not help either. There is no root קקב in either Hebrew or Aramaic.[18] The double kappa just confirms our supposition that the original reading was ק, and not כ.[19] Based on this spelling, it seems reasonable to agree with the oft-proposed suggestion that the name is related to the Hebrew and Aramaic words מקבת and מקבא, which mean hammer.[20] As to why Judah was called by this name, one view is that the name alludes to his physical strength or military prowess.[21] But a מקבת/מקבא is not a military weapon; it is a worker’s tool.[22] Therefore, it has been suggested alternatively that the name reflects that Judah’s head or body in some way had the physical appearance of a hammer.[23] Interestingly, the Mishnah at Bekhorot 7:1 lists one of the categories of disqualifed priests as המקבן, and the term is explained in the Talmud as meaning one whose head resembles a מקבא.[24] Naming men according to physical characteristics was common in the ancient world.[25] Is it possible that Makkabaios and the other four names were Greek names?[26] The additional names for the other sons were: Gaddi (Γαδδι), Thassi (Θασσι), Auaran (Αυαραν) and Apphous (Απφους).[27] Perhaps it would have been beneficial for a Jew even as early as the age of Mattathias to have had an additional name in the Greek language. It is seen from the reference to Antigonus at M. Avot 1:3 that a “traditional” Jew circa 200 BCE could have borne a Greek name. (In the period after Judah, we know of many prominent Jews who had both a Hebrew/Aramaic name and a Greek name.[28] For example, Simon’s son John was also called Hyrcanus,[29] John’s son Judah was also called Aristobulus,[30] John’s son Yannai was also called Alexander,[31] and Yannai’s wife Shelomtziyon was also called Alexandra.[32]) But the letters μ,κ,β or μ,κ,κ,β, with any combination of vowels in between them, do not seem to correspond to any known word in ancient Greek.[33] Moreover, the two kappas also suggest that the name is not Greek. Two consecutive kappas are not typical in a Greek word.[34]

Finally, there are no non-Jewish figures from this period or any earlier period with a name like Makkabaios. This is strong evidence that the name is not a Greek one. However, our task of determining the original spelling and meaning of the additional name of Judah is not that simple. Two further issues present themselves. First, assuming that Makkabaios is a Greek representation of a Hebrew or Aramaic name, we still do not know whether the authors of I and II Maccabees knew how Judah himself, who died in approximately 160 BCE, spelled his name.

I Maccabees, which covers the period 175-134 BCE, was probably composed after the death of John Hyrcanus in 104 BCE, or at least when his reign was well advanced. This is seen from the last two sentences of the work.[35] After describing the murder of Simon and the attempted murder of Simon’s son John, the book closes with the following statement (16:23-24): As for the remainder of the history of John, his wars and his valorous deeds and his wall building and his other accomplishments, all these are recorded in the chronicle of his high priesthood, from the time he succeeded his father as high priest. [36] With regard to II Maccabees, we are told by the unknown author that it is an abridgement of an earlier work by someone named Jason of Cyrene. Cyrene is in Libya, but presumably Jason spent some time in Judea.[37] He is otherwise unknown.[38] The prevailing view is that Jason was a contemporary of Judah.[39] For example, the abridgement ends with a description of a military victory by Judah in 161 BCE, suggesting that the original work ended around this time as well. But it can be argued that the abridger ended his work before Jason did.[40] For example, the abridger writes that Jason narrated the history of Judah “and his brothers” (II Macc. 2:19). Based on this, an argument can be made that Jason’s work continued long after 161 BCE. It has also been argued that Jason wrote his work as a response to I Maccabees.[41] Even if we adopt the prevailing view that Jason was a contemporary of Judah, this does not necessarily mean that Jason knew how Judah himself spelled his name.[42]

The second issue that presents itself arises from the fact that the name is written “Machabaeus” in the Latin translation of I and II Maccabees composed by the church father Jerome (c. 400 CE).[43] There is a question whether this spelling reflects Jerome’s own spelling choice, which was perhaps made after he consulted the original Hebrew of I Maccabees,[44] or whether this was the conventional spelling of the name in the earlier Latin translations made from the Greek, which Jerome simply let stand. If this spelling was Jerome’s own and he made it after consulting with the original Hebrew of I Maccabees,[45] this would strongly suggest that the Hebrew text that he had before him spelled the name with a כ. In his translation of the Bible into Latin, Jerome almost uniformly used “ch” to represent כ.[46] Alternatively, if the “ch” spelling originated in the Latin translations before Jerome, or if it originated with Jerome, but not in consultation with the original Hebrew of I Maccabees, it would seem to be based on a Greek text which spelled the name with chi. This too would seem to reflect an original Hebrew spelling of the name with a כ. Thus, although we saw earlier that the double kappa in the Greek translation of I Maccabees suggests a ק in the original Hebrew, the evidence from Jerome’s Latin translation points in the opposite direction. Perhaps already in an early stage there were two different Hebrew spellings of the name.[47] If the Hebrew name was spelled with a כ, the meaning that suggests itself is “the extinguisher.”[48]

* * * * * * The spelling of Maccabee with a כ that is prevalent in Jewish sources today is not evidence of an original כ spelling. It is only the consequence of the spelling choice made by the author of Yosippon in the 10th century.[49] Yosippon is a historical work of anonymous authorship that was based in large part on a Latin translation of the works of Josephus.[50] Among the other sources that the author of Yosippon had before him was a Latin translation of I and II Maccabees. In the Latin translation of I and II Maccabees that was before him, Judah’s additional name was spelled “Machabaeus.” Based on this, the author of Yosippon decided to spell the name with a כ. He spelled it מכביי.[51] This spelling with a כ influenced the Rishonim thereafter. There never was a group by the name Maccabees in ancient times. How did the references to this non-existent group ever arise and how did the books get their titles? II Maccabees focuses in large part on Judah. Jonathan Goldstein, the author of I and II Maccabees in the Anchor Bible series, explains further:[52] Clement of Alexandria and Origen, the earliest of the Church Fathers to mention the books by name, call them Ta Makkabaïka, “Maccabaean Histories,” from which title persons who spoke loosely probably turned to call all the heroes in the stories “Maccabees.”[53]

The first datable occurrence of such use of “Maccabees” for the heroes is in Tertullian…ca. 195 C.E.[54] Finally, it must be pointed out that מקבי seems to be the original reading in the work now commonly referred to as Megillat Antiochus.[55] But this work is replete with errors: -It associates the name מקבי with Yochanan (John), while according to I and II Maccabees, this name is only associated with Judah. -It describes Yochanan as killing the general Nikanor in a private encounter in the area of the Temple. According to I and II Maccabees, Nikanor was killed by Judah and his forces in a battle that took place outside of Jerusalem. -It describes Judah as being killed before the Temple was retaken and describes Mattathias as stepping in to fight with the other brothers. According to I Maccabees, Mattathias died before the Temple was retaken and Judah led the brothers in battle. II Maccabees does not even mention Mattathias and describes Judah as leading the brothers in battle. -In its dating of the story of Chanukah, it erroneously assumes that the retaking of the Temple coincided with the beginning of Hasmonean rule in Palestine. In actuality, over two decades separated these events. Because of these and other errors, it is hard to treat this work as a reliable historical source on any issue.[56]

* * * * * * Some of the other, more remote, possibilities for the origin of the name are: a derivation from מקוה (hope),[57] from מחבה (one who hides),[58] or from מכאב (one who causes grief).[59] The name has also been interpreted in various ways as an acrostic.[60] Finally, on a lighter note, the suggestions of Franz Delitzsch and Filosseno Luzzatto (son of Samuel David Luzzatto) deserves mention. Delitzsch suggests that the name is a contraction of the exclamation mah ke-avi! (=who is comparable to my father!)[61] Luzzatto observes that there is a Greek term βιαιο-μάχας (biaio-machas) which means “fighting violently.”[62] If one places these words in reverse order, one gets something close to Judah’s additional name![63]

Conclusion

The two kappas in the name in the Greek translation of I Maccabees suggest that the original Hebrew from which this translation was made spelled the name with a ק. That the two kappas stem from an original כ is extremely unlikely. A ק spelling would suggest that the name is related to the Hebrew and Aramaic words מקבת and מקבא, and that the name was assigned to Judah based on either his physical strength/military prowess or based on his physical appearance. But it is also possible that neither the authors of I or II Maccabees nor Jason knew how Judah spelled his own name. Also, the fact that the name is spelled with a “ch” in Jerome’s Latin translation suggests that there may also have been a Hebrew version of I Maccabees that spelled the name with a כ.[64]

On the Passing of Yeshayahu Vinograd, the Bibliographer and the Man

Moshe Dovid Chechik

Yeshayahu Vinograd (1933–2020), the renowned scholar and bibliographer, passed away on Thursday, 7 May 2020. He authored Otzar ha-Sefer ha-‘Ivri (Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book), Otzar Sifrei ha-Gra (Thesaurus of the Books of the Vilna Gaon), and (published) Siddur Ezor Eliyahu. The following reminiscences were written by Moshe Dovid Chechik at the request of the editors of The Seforim Blog, and translated from the Hebrew by Daniel Tabak.

While most frontmatter is forgettable, one of the most amazing prefaces that I will never forget is the one composed by Reb Shaya of blessed memory for his magnum opus, Otzar ha-Sefer ha-‘Ivri (Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book). If there were an anthology of prefaces, an entire section would be dedicated to this one, as it is truly sui generis. Its heading reads “Preface and Acknowledgments,” but only the latter is accurate. Spanning nearly four folio-sized pages is a list of every institution and individual who assisted in the writing of the book. Considering that this was a labor of many years, it was only natural that a goodly number of people would make contributions, and so Reb Shaya, a bibliographer through and through, remembered each and every one of them, dedicating a line or two or three to mark their efforts.

This preface encapsulates some of Reb Shaya’s most beloved attributes. First and foremost, he was a diligent collector of all things. In this introductory frontmatter—as in his writings themselves—he amassed all of the relevant particulars, because the omission of even one would mar the final product. Naturally, this was inextricably bound up with Reb Shaya’s characteristically phenomenal memory, as well as his drive to be as precise as possible—not to over- or understate matters, but to delineate precisely what we know and what we do not. Finally, it reflects his good-heartedness, how he found joy in sharing in the success of others and in sharing of himself with others.

In the preface, Reb Shaya did not forget about himself and so provided us with a rough self-eulogy:

The National and University Library [of Israel] served as my home and as my primary source of information and bibliographical data. […] The catalogue room [today, the computer lab] served as my main office for years, and many visitors to the library considered me staff, addressing their questions and even complaints to me… [points of ellipsis in the original].

These are the wonderful qualities that made Reb Shaya who he was. He could not have been further from the stereotype of the stodgy bibliographer who lives in a world of dry facts.

Reb Shaya’s sarcastic wit was ever-present. Thirteen years ago, a few months after I moved into his neighborhood, I ran into him on his way to the Mahane Yehuda market. At the time, we didn’t know each other. I stopped him with some hesitation and asked him when the new edition of the siddur Ezor Eliyahu would be printed. In response he asked, “Are you Chechik?” I nodded, bewildered, as if I had been caught red-handed. In an undertone I remarked that I really hope he didn’t ask every passerby if they are Chechik. He gave a hearty laugh and quickly reassured me that he bore me no grudge for the critical review I had penned two years earlier on the siddur. Quite the contrary, he added, he thought the criticism was well placed. Faced with his grin and bright eyes, I couldn’t help but believe him. We were friends ever since, and recently he reminded me of our first encounter, making sure I remembered my amusing retort.

R. Shaya’s daily route to and from the market passed under my window, allowing him to grab me for a chat when he liked. And since the stop for the 7 bus to the National Library was located under the window to his office on Bezalel Street opposite Hagidem, it gave me a chance to engage him in conversation. He would beam when reporting on the progress of every edition of the siddur, which he never ceased updating and improving, and he insisted on gifting me a copy of every edition, paying no mind to my protests.

He spoke to everyone as an equal. The age gap of fifty years that separated us never surfaced in our conversations. Neither did the immense store of knowledge he carried around. I was always astounded by his insatiable curiosity for new fields or unfamiliar topics. This was no passing interest, as he always remembered to press me about whether I had looked into something or had found a balm for some burning question of his.

R. Shaya’s trademark was his constant smile. As a neighbor, I can say that I never saw him get angry at anyone.

In recent years, when R. Shaya was already in his eighties, his main efforts were expended on a work that he unfortunately never completed. This was the Otzar ha-Ziyyufim, a compendium intended to document every instance of a Hebrew press mentioning an incorrect imprint—for whatever reason—on a title page. This painstaking work demanded a detective’s perceptive hunch, a historian’s vast knowledge, a bibliophile’s intimate familiarity with countless volumes, and, of course, a taxonomist’s complex classification scheme, which he himself had to devise and define. The illness and passing of his wife brought his work to a full stop, but recently he informed me on several occasions that his work was nearing its conclusion, even if, as we had come to expect, he would find new cases for inclusion on a daily basis. His perfectionism confined his final work to a drawer.

It is difficult to capture R. Shaya’s enormous contribution to the world of Hebrew bibliography, for which we owe him a tremendous debt. Who knows how many hours and days he saved us with the meticulously written and organized Otzar ha-Sefer ha-‘Ivri. More than twenty-five years since its publication, and in spite of the impressive technological advances of recent decades, this colossal work of Reb Shaya the bibliographer has yet to be superseded. But for his colleagues, friends, and loved ones, there is none who can replace R. Shaya the man, with his wonderful personality, good humor, and wit.

Introduction: Arguments about eating in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret outside of Israel have a long and somewhat baffling history.[1] While not the only example of practice in opposition to the Shulchan Aruch, it appears to be among the most argued. The gemara, Rambam, the Tur and the Shulchan Aruch, written in many locales, all seem to be as unambiguous as possible in requiring one to eat in the sukkah. The Gaon, incensed by the spreading Chassidic custom to eat outside the sukkah, perhaps lemigdar miltah, went so far as to mandate sleeping in the sukkah on the night of shemini atzeret, in opposition to the Maharil, the Magen Avraham and normative custom. Despite consensus among all major decisors to require eating in the sukkah, an undercurrent of opposition has existed from at least the times of the early rishonim. Support for that opposition has been based on a number of apparently legitimate points. However, despite some early and consistent opposition, despite the logic and halakhic rationale of those who did not sit in the sukkah, and despite the problematic nature of the gemara (as explained below), I hope to explain the basis for the concluding and declarative statement in the gemara: “we sit but do not make a berakha.” In fact, the assumption, explicitly found[2] as far back as the times of the rishonim, that the declarative ruling was interpolated at a later point, is fundamental to explain both sides of the controversy. Some, as early as the times of the rishonim, argue that we can discount such geonic interpolations in deference to the original text which, as will be demonstrated, concludes not to sit in the sukkah. My goal is to explain why the interpolation is to be followed despite its ostensible opposition to the remainder of the text. The major thesis proposed is that one has to differentiate between a period of doubt as existed in both the yerushalmi and bavli when rosh chodesh was declared based on the observation of witnesses and a later period when rosh chodesh was determined using a fixed calendar. The geonic interpolation into the text of the gemara occurred at that later point; its rationale and inconsistency with the texts of the gemara needs to be addressed from that perspective. If I am correct, then in the period when rosh chodesh was declared based on the observation of witnesses, as in the times of Rav Yochanon and Rav,[3] sitting in the sukkah was not always required. However, when the fixed calendar was in use, the rabbis (eventually) decreed that sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret was obligatory. It may well have been more akin to a gezairah required at their time versus a continuation of historic practice. The remainder of the paper focuses on:

• An analysis of the primary texts of the gemarot that demonstrates opposition to sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret.
• A conjecture that the level of doubt in the times of the gemara was minor.
• Possible objections to sitting in the sukkah on Shimini Atzeret when not required and why they were perhaps considered overriding particularly given the level of doubt. Additionally, there are critical factors that differentiate Shemini Atzeret from other cases of yom tov sheni.
• The interpolation by the geonim, and their insistence on sitting in the sukkah despite earlier halakhic rulings.
• The objection to the gemara’s conclusion by some early authorities and their different practices.
• Reasons that would exempt you from sukkah in general, would certainly exempt you on Shemini Atzeret; mitztayer and kabbalat penai rabbo are analyzed as bases for not sitting in the sukkah.
• A summary and a modest proposal.

Section 1 – An analysis of the primary text of the gemarot demonstrates opposition to sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. The sugya in the bavli masechet sukkah beginning on 46b contains three parts:[4] A. The disagreement of Rav Yochanon and Rav. R. Judah the son of R. Samuel b. Shilath citing Rav ruled: The eighth day which may be the seventh is regarded as the seventh in respect of the sukkah and as the eighth in respect of the benediction. R. Yochanon, however, ruled: It is regarded as the eighth in respect of both. B. Two approaches to interpreting the disagreement. FIRST APPROACH: That one must dwell [in the sukkah on the eighth day] is agreed by all, they only differ on the question of the benediction. According to him who regards the day as the seventh in respect of the sukkah, we also recite the benediction [of the sukkah], while according to him who holds that it is regarded as the eighth in respect of both, we do not recite the benediction [of the sukkah]. R. Joseph observed: Hold fast to the ruling of R. Yochanan, since R. Huna b. Bizna and all the notables of his age once entered a sukkah on the eighth day which may have been the seventh, and while they sat therein, they did not recite the benediction. But is it not possible that they were of the same opinion as he who laid down that once a man has recited the benediction on the first day, he has no more need to recite it? — There was a tradition that they had just come from the fields. SECOND APPROACH: (the ikka de’amri) There are some who say that the ruling that one must not recite the benediction [of the sukkah] is agreed upon by both, and that they only differ on the question whether one must sit [inthe sukkah]. According to him who ruled that it is regarded as the seventh day in respect of the sukkah, we must indeed sit in it thereon, while according to him who ruled that it is regarded as the eighth day in respect of both, we may not even sit in it thereon. R. Joseph observed: Hold fast to the ruling of R.Yochanan. For who is the authority of the statement? R. Judah the son of R. Samuel b. Shilath [of course], and he himself sat on the eighth day which might be the seventh outside the sukkah. C. A declarative ruling that “we sit but do not make a berakha.” And the law is that we must indeed sit in the sukkah but may not recite the benediction. A. The disagreement of Rav Yochanon and Rav: Rav states that Shemini Atzeret is treated as the seventh for “this” and the eighth for “that.” Rav Yochanon states it is the considered as the eighth for “this” and “that.” The two approaches differ as to what “this” and “that” refer.[5] B. Two approaches to interpreting the disagreement: The first alternative assumes that all agree that sitting in the sukkah is obligatory; the argument concerns whether to make a berakha. In this approach Rav is asserting that one makes a berakha “leishev ba’sukkah.” The phrase “the seventh for this” refers to this obligation for a berakha on sitting in the sukkah. “The eighth for that” refers to the fact that the other prayers of Shemini Atzeret – kiddush and tefillah – mention only the eighth day and make no mention of Sukkot. Rav Yochanon asserts we make no reference to Sukkot, making no berakha when sitting in the sukkah on the eighth. It is the eight for “this” refers to sitting in the sukkah without a berakha; “the eighth for that” is interpreted identically to Rav. According to both opinions, “this” refers to whether or not a berakha is made when sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. According to both opinions, “that” refers to the mention of only Shemini Atzeret in the prayers of the eighth day. This reading is rather forced in that there does not appear to be any disagreement about what holiday ought to be referred to in the various prayers and blessings of the eighth day. While the word “this” is informative, the word “that” is not. Stating both Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret in one prayer/blessing would be contradictory; declaring a day to be both Sukkot and Shemini Atzeret was never even raised as a possibility and for good reason. The first approach then quotes practice that supports the view of Rav Yochanon, suggesting that we are to follow the opinion of Rav Yochanon. The second approach assumes not making a berakha on sitting in the sukkah is undisputed; the argument is about even sitting in the sukkah. Thus the second part of the phrase – the eighth for “that” states that common view of both Rav and Rav Yochanon omitting a berakha on sitting in the sukkah. “This” refers to the obligation to sit in the sukkah. Rav maintains for “this” it is considered the seventh and hence one is obligated to sit in the sukkah. Rav Yochanon maintains it is the eighth for “this” as well with no obligation to sit in the sukkah. Note that in this approach of the ikaa de’amri, both parts of the sentence are informative. The second approach then also quotes practice that supports the view of Rav Yochanon, suggesting that we follow the opinion of Rav Yochanon Were the sugya to end at this point, the conclusion would be clear for two reasons. Each reason itself is two-fold, resulting from both a general principle as well as a detail present in this specific case.

• First, generally, where there are two alternative approaches, the second, the ikaa de’amri, is assumed normative.[6] As well in this specific case, as indicated, the phrase of both Rav and Rav Yochanon is more informative in the formulation of the ikka de’amri.
• Second, when there is a dispute between Rav and Rav Yochanon, we generally follow Rav Yochanon.[7]As well, in this specific case the text in both alternatives immediately includes an example of practice that follows the opinion of Rav Yochanon.

Taken together, we would assume to follow the second alternative and the opinion of Rav Yochanon – and not sit in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. According to many readings, this conclusion is made even more strongly by the yerushalmi.[8] While the bavli addresses the obligation to sit in the sukkah, the yerushalmi notes that one may not sit in the sukkah while making kiddush but one may enter the sukkah afterwards if he so desires. While some rishonim quote this yerushalmi as opposing the psak of the bavli,[9] others claim[10] that the yerushalmi is addressing a region of Israel where there was no doubt about what day the courts declared rosh chodesh. Rabbi Schacter, in support of the former opinion, observed that the yerushalmi uses the expression “leilai yom tov achron;” the plural, “leilai” is only relevant if there is a yom tov sheni on the ninth. Given this interpretation, the yerushalmi is making a rather strong point of equating the nights of the eighth and ninth, dismissing any possibility of an obligation to eat in the sukkah on the eighth.[11] C. A declarative ruling that “we sit but do not make a berakha:” Despite the reading of the gemara as outlined, the bavli concludes that “we sit but do not make a berakha.” This opinion is that of both Rav in the second alternative and Rav Yochanon in the first alternative. This ruling corresponds to two of four opinions quoted; the two alternative opinions – not sitting at all or sitting and making a berakha – are only supported by one amora and only according to one alternative. Despite that, this ruling is contradicted by the normal principles of psak where we would follow Rav Yochanon’s opinion in the second alternative, as well as the yerushalmi. The language of the gemara “shemini safek shevii,” and in particular the various amoraim cited, place the gemara not in the period of calculation based on a fixed calendar, but still during a period where rosh chodesh was declared based on observation. During that period, yom tov sheni was observed because of real doubt and also, at some point, as a precaution even during those years where doubt did not exist. Given the establishment of a fixed calendar in 359 CE by Hillel II, it is not entirely clear in exactly what era yom tov sheni was firmly established and, more importantly, when it was extended to include sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. It is entirely plausible, that this declarative ruling obligating sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret followed the period debated in the gemara by multiple centuries. This resolves the apparent contradiction in the text. Why this was not stated explicitly in the gemara is only problematic if one does not assume it was obvious. Section 2 – A conjecture that the level of doubt in the times of the gemara was minor. Returning now to the period of real doubt over which day was declared rosh chodesh, the question of why was sitting in the sukkah not considered mandatory? We will deal with a number of reasons that would argue against sitting in the sukkah in the next section. However, there are two factors that would reduce the level of doubt in the times of declaration based on observation.

• First, atmospheric conditions in the Middle East around the beginning of Tishrai are normally excellent and the ability for a new moon crescent to be observed is very high.[12]
• Second, the beit din had flexibility to reduce any doubt around Rosh HaShana. When necessary, the beit din could delay declarations of rosh chodesh Elul to guarantee that a moon’s crescent would always be present to be observed on the evening following the 29th of Elul.[13]

These two factors lowered the level of doubt considerably. In addition,

• the late date in the month when Shemini Atzeret occurs and
• the effort to determine Yom Kippur

would likely reduce the level of doubt even further. After fasting only on the 10th day of Tishrai as Yom Kippur, it is entirely possible that in spite of observing yom tov sheni on the first days of sukkot, the level of doubt was minimal and insufficient to overcome the objections covered in the next section.[14] Section 3 – Possible objections to sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret when not required and why they were overriding particularly given the level of doubt. Additionally, one can differentiate Shemini Atzeret from the more usual case of yom tov sheni on multiple grounds. There are two potential issues with sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret, tarti de’sasreh, acting in a contradictory manner[15] and violating the prohibition to add to a mitzvah, by adding an additional day of sukkah observance, particularly on Shemini Atzeret where sitting in a sukkah is not part of the observance.[16] In the case of sitting in the sukkah, a potentially neutral act, neither is violated if some aspect of performance is compromised; however, the degree of compromise required may be in dispute. Regardless of which of the two reasons[17] is invoked, in a case of limited doubt, one or the other or both may have been sufficient to make sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret either not obligatory or perhaps not even permitted without some restrictions. Both the yerushalmi and various opinions in the main text of the bavli, support this conclusion. At some point after a fixed calendar was established in the fourth century, a second day of yom tov was formalized (or maintained.)[18] As Rav Soloveitchik explained, an additional level of kedushat yom tov was applied to either an ordinary day (the day after a yom tov, isru chag) or the first day of chol hamoed because of sefaikah de’yoma. This additional level of kedusha, automatically invoked obligations for kiddush, tefillah, sippur yetziat mitzraim, etc. as well as prohibitions from work. Of course, such an approach could not be applied to Shemini Atzeret; it was already a holiday and one could not add to its kedusha, only change it. This was not done; note that we do not mention Sukkot nor do we observe the mitzvah of lulav. We simply sit in the sukkah without a berakha, something that is both different from a halakhic perspective from other observances of yom tov sheni that derive from the changed status of the day, and in Rav Soloveitchik’s opinion, less than satisfactory conceptually. He said, perhaps half-seriously, that despite his unwavering adherence to normative halakha, the position of the chassidim makes more sense. In any case, sitting in the sukkah is a unique observance with textual, historical and conceptual challenges. Section 4 – The interpolation by the geonim[19], and their insistence on sitting in the sukkah despite earlier halakhic rulings. I do not know the precise history of yom tov sheni. However, both reciting berakhot during yom tov sheni against normal halakhic practice,[20] as well as the assumed halakhic interpolation by the geonim requiring sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret may both have similar origin – the need to reinforce the observance of yom tov sheni. As Dr. Haym Soloveitchik points out,[21] the case of sukkah on Shemini Atzeret proves the wisdom of insisting on a berakha; the one mitzvah of yom tov sheni for which we do not recite a berakha, resulted in widespread non-observance. It seems more than likely that this interpolation was recognized as “outside the norm” if the practice during the period of doubt did not include sitting in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. Like berakhot, it may have been viewed as necessary particularly following a single day observance of Yom Kippur to strengthen the observance of yom tov sheni. One can only assume that the ruling’s discontinuity from the remainder of the text of the gemara was recognized and did not need elucidation; when first written, a then contemporary reader would recognize the change in practice. Section 5 – The objection to the gemara’s conclusion by some early authorities and their different practices. Given universal acceptance of the observance of yom tov sheni in the times of the rishonim, one would not have expected any deviation from the gemara’s definitive conclusion. Rabbi Schacter and Dr. Soloveitchik highlight a number of sources that illustrate the lack of universal acceptance of the gemara’s conclusion by Rashi’s rebbe and members of his family,[22] a distinguished member of the Maharil’s community,[23] and by a member of the Kolonymous family.[24] Citing the core sugya in the bavli and the yerushalmi, while certainly relevant does not in and of itself justify deviating from a clear conclusion even if it is of geonic origin. What is universally conjectured is that the cold climate of Northern Europe motivated a change. For the geonim omitting a berakha constituted enough of a heker to obviate either objection – either a tarti de’sasreh or violating a prohibition to add to a mitzvah by adding an additional day of sukkah observance. In a temperate climate, eating outside without a berakha renders sitting in the sukkah a more balanced act – clearly not a complete fulfillment of the obligation to sit in the sukkah, but, nonetheless, still honoring the institution of yom tov sheni shel galyot. However, in the cold climate of Northern Europe, even absent a berakha, either objection would, as it did in the times of real safek, make sitting in the sukkah (at least during kiddush) problematic. Note as well that the custom of returning to the sukkah during the day is consistent with this logic. During the day:

• the temperature is milder,
• there is no tarti de’sasreh from the recitation of kiddush, and
• having been absent from the sukkah at night, as Rav Soloveitchik pointed out, creates a discontinuity of performance that renders sitting in the sukkah the following day a non-violation of adding to the mitzvah.

What is perhaps most surprising is that even after the period of the Tur and Shulchan Aruch, Rav Yosef Yuzpa, the dayan in Frankfurt am Mein around the end of the 16th and beginning of the 17th century, when Rav Isaiah Horowitz, the Shelah HaKadosh, was Rav, in his sefer Yosef Ometz was still able to state that a family, descendant of Troyes, who does not sit in the sukkah, “has on what to rely.”[25] Section 6 – Reasons that would exempt you from sukkah in general, would certainly exempt you on shemini atzeret; mitztayer and kabbalat penai rabbo are analyzed as bases for not sitting in the sukkah. Mitztayer would exempt one from sitting in the sukkah not just on Shemini Atzeret but also on Sukkot proper. However, mitztayer is likely not binary. At one extreme, by living unnaturally in the sukkah one may not even fulfill one’s obligation, regardless of intent, as would be the case in extreme cold or very rainy weather. If, however, it is somewhat uncomfortable given the elements, sitting in the sukkah may no longer be obligatory, while it would still remain a fulfillment of one’s obligation. It seems logical as well to differentiate further the notion of mitztayer as it might apply to Sukkot versus Shemini Atzeret. Perhaps a yet lesser degree of mitztayer, not sufficient to allow eating outside the sukkah on Sukkot, might nonetheless, be more than sufficient to override and invalidate the level of heker made by not reciting a berakha. I have not seen any discussion of this notion by poskim, despite its apparent logic.[26] By analogy, one might not be legally drunk, but nonetheless it would be wise not to drive a car. Similarly, one might argue for eating outside the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret in conditions that do not meet the halakhic definition of mitztayer on Sukkot proper. Thus, cold temperatures that might not justify eating outside the sukkah on Sukkot could nonetheless justify, and indeed perhaps mandate, not eating in the sukkah on Shemini Atzeret. Rav Soloveitchik, in an attempt to justify Chassidic practice, noted the importance of the night of Shemini Atzeret, following the “guten kvitel” that Kabbalists associated with the day of Hoshana Rabbah. Like the exemption accorded to the celebration of sheva berachot even on Sukkot, when the sukkah does not comfortably provide adequate room, one can argue that the large celebrations by Chassidim where they are mekabeil penai rabbom, would similarly provide an exemption. I would add that here as well, a lesser degree of need might again be seen as voiding any heker provided by just omitting a berakha. Of course, while this explains why a tisch was held outside the sukkah, it does not in any way justify a general practice of avoiding the sukkah that has become widespread in many Chassidic circles.[27] Section 7 – A summary and a modest proposal. The discussion in the gemara covered a period of history where there was real doubt about the declaration of rosh chodesh, although in the case of Shemini Atzeret, that doubt was minimal. In the face of minimal doubt, the reasons not to sit in the sukkah prevailed. The geonim, perhaps in order to strengthen the notion of yom tov sheini, instituted the practice that “we sit but do not make a berakha.” It is not my intent to give halakhic advice; some might suggest that perhaps we ought to not even ask a local rabbi as much as follow family practice. In any case, for those who eat in the sukkah, I would consider situations of partial mitztayer that might arise, where eating in the sukkah may not be appropriate. On the other hand, given widespread laxity, one might argue that the stringencies of the geonim and the Gaon might again be particularly relevant. Of course, most fundamentally for those whose ancestors ate outside the sukkah in Warsaw, conditions are rather different in Miami,[28] or even in Baltimore or Boston.