The Seven Nations of Canaan

                                     THE SEVEN NATIONS OF CANAAN[1]
By Reuven Kimelman
This study deals with the war and the
seven Canaanite nations.[2] It complements my previous post on Amalek of March 13, 2014, “The Ethics of the Case of Amalek: An
Alternative Reading of the Biblical Data and the Jewish Tradition. “The popular
conception in both cases is that the Bible demands their extermination thereby
providing a precedent for genocide.[3] The popular reading of the Canaanites filters it through the prism of
Deuteronomy. The popular reading of
Amalek filters the Torah material through the prism of Saul’s battle against
Amalek in the Book of Samuel. In actuality, the biblical data is much
more ambiguous making the most destructive comments the exception not the rule as
will be evident from a systematic analysis of the Canaanite material in the
Bible as was previously done with Amalek.  
            This
post will deal with the following seven questions with regard to the nations of
Canaan:
a). What are the different biblical
approaches to the native nations of Canaan?
b). According to the Bible, what
actually happened to them?
c). What is the evidence that the
Bible is sensitive to the moral issues involved?
d). How has the Jewish tradition
removed the category of the seven nations from its ethical agenda?
e). What is the role of the
doctrine of repentance?
f). What is the relevance of the
“Sennacherib principle”?
g). How relevant is the category
“holy war”?
            With
regard to the extermination of the seven nations of Canaan,[4] sometimes called Canaanites sometimes Amorites, the biblical record is also not
of one cloth. The clarification of their status in the Bible requires a
systematic treatment of all the data book by book. 
Genesis (12:6, 15:16) is aware that the
Canaanites were in the land when Abraham arrived and would remain for
generations.  From Genesis 38 and the end
of The Book of Ruth we learn that from the progeny of Abraham’s great grandson
Judah and the Canaanite Tamar will issue King David. Also  Simeon’s son is identified as “Saul the son
of a Cannanite women” (Genesis 46:10, Exodus 6:15) without comment.
Exodus (23)’s position on the
elimination of the Canaanites (v. 23) is a gradual dispossession by God, not by
the Israelites:[5]
27 I will send forth My terror before
you, and I will throw into panic all the people among whom you come, and I will
make all your enemies turn tail before you. 28 I will send a plague ahead of
you, and it shall drive out before you the Hivites, the Canaanites, and the
Hittites.[6] 29 I will not drive them out before you in a single year, lest the land become
desolate and the wild beasts multiply to your hurt. 30 I will drive them out
before you little by little, until you have increased and possess the land.
Leviticus (18) refers to God casting out
of the nations:
24 Do not defile yourselves in any of
those ways, for it is by such that the nations that I am casting out before you
defiled themselves. 25 Thus the land became defiled; and I called it to account
for its iniquity, and the land spewed out its inhabitants.
Here there is a coordination between God
and land.  The land spews out its
inhabitants for defiling it and God expels them.  
Numbers (33) refers to the Israelites
deporting the local inhabitants:
51 Speak to the Israelite people and say
to them:
When you cross the Jordan into the land
of Canaan, 52 you shall dispossess all the inhabitants of the land; you shall
destroy all their figured objects; you shall destroy all their molten images,
and you shall demolish all their cult places. 53 And you shall take possession
of the land and settle in it, for I have assigned the land to you to possess.
It is clear that the issue here is not
ethnic but religio-cultural. The fear is that Israel will be ensnared,
especially through intermarriage, by the local moral and cultic practices
Exodus 34 emphasizes the religious
factor:
12b Beware of making a covenant with the
inhabitants of the land against which you are advancing, lest they be a snare
in your midst. 13 Rather you must tear down their altars, smash their
pillars,and cut down their sacred posts; 14 for you must not worship any other
God, because the Lord, whose name is Impassioned, is an impassioned God. 15 You
must not make a covenant with the inhabitants of the land, for they will lust
after their gods and sacrifice to their gods and invite you, and you will eat
of their sacrifices. 16 And when you take wives from among their daughters for
your sons, their daughters will lust after their gods and will cause your sons
to lust after their gods.[7]
Leviticus 18 emphasizes the moral
factor:
26 But you must keep My laws and My
rules, and you must not do any of those abhorrent things, neither the citizen
nor the stranger who resides among you; 27 for all those abhorrent things were
done by the people who were in the land before you, and the land became
defiled. 28 So let not the land spew you out for defiling it as it spewed out
the nation that came before you. 29 All who do any of those abhorrent
things—such persons shall be cut off from their people. 30 You shall keep My
charge not to engage in any of the abhorrent practices that were carried on
before you, and you shall not defile yourselves through them: I the Lord am
your God.
Numbers 33 warns Israel against
assimilating Canaanite norms lest they share their fate of expulsion. “55 But if
you do not dispossess the inhabitants of the land, those whom you allow to
remain shall be stings in your eyes and thorns in your sides, and they shall
harass you in the land in which you live; 56 so that I will do to you what I
planned to do to them.”

            The exception is Deuteronomy 7
which demands total destruction:
1 When the Lord your God brings you to
the land that you are about to enter and possess, and He dislodges many nations
before you— the Hittites, Girgashites, Amorites, Canaanites, Perizzites,
Hivites, and Jebusites, seven nations much larger than you—2and the Lord your
God delivers them to you and you defeat them, you must doom them to
destruction: grant them no terms and give them no quarter.
Even according to Deuteronomy the fear
is not of their DNA but moral assimilation, for it goes on to say:  “Lest they lead you into doing all the
abhorrent things that they have done for their gods and you stand guilty before
the Lord your God” (20:18). For Deuteronomy (12:31; 18:9-12), the abhorrent
things include child sacrifice.
Strangely, Deuteronomy continues with a
provision against intermarriage:
3 You shall not intermarry with them: do
not give your daughters to their sons or take their daughters for your sons.
4 For they will turn your children away from Me to worship other gods, and the
Lord’s anger will blaze forth against you and He will promptly wipe you out.
5 Instead, this is what you shall do to them: you shall tear down their altars,
smash their pillars, cut down their sacred posts, and consign their images to
the fire.

Apprehension about intermarriage or coming to terms with an eradicated people
is strange unless Deuteronomy is aware that its demand to doom them will not be
(or was not) implemented. And, in fact, as we shall see the evidence from
Judges 3 is that they did intermarry.
 Alternatively, ḥerem does not entail
the elimination of the Canaanites only their isolation, that is, they are to be
quarantined. This understanding follows its Semitic cognates where it means to
separate, to set aside.[8] The goal is to exclude any intercourse with them. Thus verse 5 only refers to
the elimination of their objects of worship not their persons. This opens the
possibility that “What we have is a retention of the … traditional language
of ḥerem, but a shift in the direction of its acquiring significance as
a metaphor … for religious fidelity.”[9]
 Even stranger is the description of the
confrontation with Sihon king of the Amorites. Within the context of
Deuteronomy, one would expect an outright attack when God says to Moses: “See,
I give into your power Sihon the Amorite, king of Heshbon, and his land. Begin
the occupation: engage him in battle” (2:24). Instead, what does Moses do:
26 Then I sent messengers from the
wilderness of Kedemoth to King Sihon of Heshbon with an offer of peace, as
follows, 27 “Let me pass through your country. I will keep strictly to the
highway, turning off neither to the right nor to the left. 28 What food I eat
you will supply for money, and what water I drink you will furnish for money;
just let me pass through.”
Sihon rejects the offer and attacks
Israel. They are destroyed only in the counterattack.
If there is no evidence for the
expulsion of the Canaanites, whence the position of Deuteronomy 7:1-2?
It has been speculated that Deuteronomy took “both the expulsion law of Exodus
23:20-33, directed against the inhabitants of Canaan, and the ḥerem
(total destruction) law of Exodus 22:19 (“Whoever sacrifices to a God other
than the Lord shall be proscribed), directed against the individual Israelite,
and fused them into a new law that applies ḥerem to all idolaters,
Israelites and non-Israelites alike.”[10] In other words, the ḥerem is not against Canaanites as Canaanites, but
idolaters as idolaters. Thus Deuteronomy (13:13-19) imposes the very punishment
on Israelite idolaters. The choice of the word ḥerem also promotes a
sense of quid pro quod, for, according to Numbers 14:45, the Canaanites and the
Amalekites pummeled Israel to Hormah a word which could simply designate a
place or also serve as a toponym since ad haḥormah could be
rendered “to utter destruction.”[11] The point of the paronomasia is that the Canaanites and the Amalekites got as
they gave.
In any case, except for some sources in
Joshua (6:21 and chapters 10-11) the later biblical sources follow the earlier
biblical books from Exodus to Numbers rather than Deuteronomy. Even the Joshua
material raises some questions. According to Joshua 10:33, Joshua totally
destroyed the people of Gezer. Yet Joshua 16:10 (like Judges 1:29) states: “They
failed to dispossess the Canaanites who dwelt in Gezer; so the Canaanites
remained in the midst of Ephraim, as is still the case. But they had to perform
forced labor.” In actuality, they stayed there until the reign of Solomon only
to be killed off by Pharaoh as noted in I Kings 9:16. Apparently, once the
people were defanged by having its army destroyed, they were given quarter.[12] As a subject nation they apparently present no religious threat. In fact, save
for the peculiar case of Judges 3:5, the surrounding nations, not the
Canaanites, are blamed for Israelite apostasy.[13] In fact, according to Joshua 8:29 and 10:27, the bodies of Canaanite kings hung
by Joshua were buried by nightfall just as Deuteronomy 21:23 enjoins.
Apparently, Human dignity is inalienable even for Canaanite kings.
The triumphal picture of Joshua is
undermined by the facts on the ground. For example, Joshua 11:12 gives the
impression that Joshua wiped out all the cities in the area of Hazor and burned
them to the ground. Yet the next verse says: “However, all those towns that are
still standing on their mounds were not burned down by Israel; it was Hazor
alone that Joshua burned down.” In fact, only two other cities were burned —
Jericho and Ai.
Similarly, Joshua 11:23 claims: “Thus
Joshua conquered the whole country, just as the Lord had promised Moses,”
whereas 13:1 concedes “and very much of the land still remains to be taken
possession of.” Even where Israel spread out much of the native population was
allowed to remain in their midst, as it says later in the same chapter: “the
Israelites failed to dispossess the Geshurites and the Maacathites, and Geshur
and Maacath remain among Israel to this day” (13:13). The sparing of the
Canaanite population was common. With regard to southern Israel, Joshua 15:63
says: “But the Judites could not dispossess the Jebusites, the inhabitants of
Jerusalem; so the Judites dwell with the Jebusites in Jerusalem to this day.”
With regard to central Israel, Joshua 16:10 says: “However, they failed to
dispossess the Canaanites who dwelt in Gezer; so the Canaanites remained in the
midst of Ephraim, as is still the case. But they had to perform forced labor.”
And with regard to northern Israel, Joshua 17:12-13 says: “The Manassites could
not dispossess [the inhabitants of] these towns, and the Canaanites stubbornly
remained in this region. When the Israelites became stronger, they imposed
tribute on the Canaanites; but they did not dispossess them.”
Judges 1:27-36 follows suit. It begins:
27 Manasseh did not dispossess [the
inhabitants of] Beth-shean and its dependencies, or [of] Taanach and its
dependencies, or the inhabitants of Dor and its dependencies, or the
inhabitants of Ibleam and its dependencies, or the inhabitants of Megiddo and
its dependencies. The Canaanites persisted in dwelling in this region. 28 And
when Israel gained the upper hand, they subjected the Canaanites to forced
labor; but they did not dispossess them. 29Nor did Ephraim dispossess the
Canaanites who inhabited Gezer; so the Canaanites dwelt in their midst at
Gezer…
All these sources mention the failure to
dispossess the Canaanites, despite the Israelites’ power to do so. No mention
is made of any extermination.[14] Joshua 24:13 does mention the expulsion of two kings but without resorting to
the sword and bow, a point reiterated in Psalm 44:5. Most remarkable is the
story in Judges 4. There it is told that God punished the Israelites by handing
them over to Yabin the king of Canaan and Sisera his general. In the divinely
commanded revolt against them, God promised to deliver them into the hands of
the Israelites not to wipe them out.
Joshua concedes in his farewell address
the failure of his policy. The most he can hope is that “The Lord your God
Himself will thrust them out on your account and drive them out to make way for
you” (Joshua 23:5). In the meantime, they are exhorted to be resolute not “to
intermingle with these nations that are left among you. Do not utter the names
of their gods or swear by them” (23:7). He them mentions the apprehension of
Deuteronomy of intermarriage: “For should you turn away and attach yourselves
to the remnant of those nations — to those that are left among you–and
intermarry with the you joining them and they joining you, know for certain
that the Lord your God will not continue to drive these nations out before you;
they shall become a snare and a trap for you” (23:12-13).
In fact, Judges 3 states that they did
intermarry: “The Israelites settled among the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites,
Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites; they took their daughters to wife and gave
their own daughters to their sons, and they worshiped their gods” (5-6).
Intermarriage was likely a factor in the absence of biblical or extra biblical
evidence for Israel’s expulsion of the Canaanites. 
The archaeological record confirms that
Israel primarily settled in previously unoccupied territory in the central
highlands rather than rebuilt towns on destroyed Canaanite cites. In Judges 2,
they are threatened with the consequences of not dispossessing them:
1 An angel of the Lord came up from
Gilgal to Bochim and said, “I brought you up from Egypt and I took you into the
land which I had promised on oath to your fathers. And I said, ‘I will never
break My covenant with you. 2 And you, for your part, must make no covenant with
the inhabitants of this land; you must tear down their altars.’ But you have
not obeyed Me—look what you have done! 3 Therefore, I have resolved not to drive
them out before you; they shall become your oppressors, and their gods shall be
a snare to you.”
The Israelites not only did not drive out the inhabitants, they concluded
treaties with them. Their expulsion by God was contingent upon Israel’s refusal
to conclude a treaty with them. Neither took place.
Even at the height of ancient Israelite
power under the reign of Solomon there was no move to do away with them only to
subject them to forced labor, as I Kings 9 (= 2 Chronicles 8:7-8) states:
20All the people that were left of the
Amorites, Hittites, Perizzites, Hivites, and Jebusites who were not of the
Israelite stock—21those of their descendants who remained in the land and whom
the Israelites were not able to annihilate—of these Solomon made a slave force,
as is still the case.[15]
Nonetheless, Uriah the Hittite not only
marries Bathsheba but also serves as a trusted officer in David’s army.
            Psalm
106 laments the total failure of the policy. According to it, everything that
Joshua warned against, they did and more. Following Deuteronomy 12:31, it also
provides the moral basis by documenting the abhorrent behavior of the
Canaanites to their own children:
34 They did not destroy the nations as
the Lord had commanded them, 35 but mingled with the nations and learned their
ways. 36 They worshiped their idols, which became a snare for them. 37 Their own
sons and daughters they sacrificed to demons. 38 They shed innocent blood, the
blood of their sons and daughters, whom they sacrificed to the idols of Canaan;
so the land was polluted with bloodguilt. 39 Thus they became defiled by their
acts, debauched through their deeds.[16]
Verses 34-35 attest to the non
implementation of the policy of Deuteronomy 20:17-18.
            Remarkably,
the Rabbis explain the non implementation through the conversion of the
nations: 
R. Samuel bar Nahman began his discourse
with the verse: “But if you will not drive out the inhabitants
of the Land before you, then shall those that remain of them be as thorns in
your eyes and as pricks in your sides” (Numbers 33:55). The Holy One reminded
Israel: I said to you, “You shall utterly destroy them: the
Hittite and the Amorite” (Deuteronomy 20:17). But you did not do so; for “Rahab
the harlot, and her father’s household, and all that she had, did Joshua save
alive” (Joshua 6:25). Behold, Jeremiah will spring from the children’s children
of Rahab the harlot and will thrust such words into you as will be thorns in
your eyes and pricks in your sides.[17]
Irony of ironies, the thorny and prickly
issue is no longer the continuity of pagan practices but the pointed prophetic
barbs from the progeny of converts.
The tendency to blunt the impact of the
seven-nations policy of Deuteronomy is also furthered by two other comments in
rabbinic literature. The first contends that Joshua sent three missives before
embarking on the conquest of the Land of Israel. The first said: “whoever wants
to leave — may leave;” the second: “whoever wants to make peace — make
peace;” and the third: “whoever wants to make war — make war.”[18] War was only conducted against those who opted for war.[19]

That war was not waged against those who did not opt for war may be supported
by the following verse in Joshua:
When all the kings of the Amorites on
the western side of the Jordan, and all the kings of the Canaanites near the
Sea, heard how the Lord had dried up the waters of the Jordan for the sake of
the Israelites until they crossed over, they lost heart, and no spirit was left
in them because of the Israelites (5:1).
No war no killing. Similarly, Joshua 9
mentions that all six nations of Cannaan mobilized for war against Israel as
opposed to the Gibeonites who made peace with them. Even though the peace was
made under false pretenses, Joshua in chapter 10 honored his “treaty to
guarantee their lives” (9:15) by rescuing them from the attack of the five
Amorite kings. The treaty here entails security arrangements in exchange for
submission.  Also in the beginning of
chapter 11 Joshua defeats those nations that had mobilized for war against him.
None of these accounts attribute their destruction to their religious
depravity, only to their initiation of attack on Israel.[20]
The other rabbinic comment rules that by
transplanting and mingling the populations he conquered, the Assyrian king
Sennacherib dissolved the national identity of the Canaanite nations in ancient
times.[21] Accordingly, Maimonides ruled that all trace of them has vanished.[22] Harav Abraham Kook, former chief rabbi, attained the same goal by limiting the
commandment to expel the Canaanites to the generation of Joshua. He writes:
If it were an absolute duty for every
Jewish king to conquer all the seven nations, how would David have refrained
from doing so? Therefore, in my humble opinion, the original duty rested only
on Joshua and his generation. Afterwards, it was only a commandment to realize
the inheritance of the land promised to the patriarchs.[23]
Moreover, non-Canaanites captured along
with a majority of Canaanites were to be spared just as Canaanites caught with
a majority of non-Canaanites were to be spared[24] reducing possibilities of any wholesale slaughter. In fact one commentator
contends that the destruction of a city is predicated upon the unanimous
opposition to submission to the Israelites for “we cannot impose a death
penalty on them (women and children) because of the sin of their fathers and
the guilt of their husbands.”[25] Finally, the Maimonidean ruling that all war must be preceded by an overture of
peace and that only the nations of Canaan that maintained their abhorrent ways
are to be doomed reduced the possibility of any war of total destruction.[26] His position is rooted in the repeated classical rabbinic comment to the verse
“Lest they lead you into doing all the abhorrent things that they have done for
their gods and you stand guilty before the Lord your God” (20:18) — “This
teaches that if they repent they are not killed.”[27] The assumption is that the Canaanites got special attention not only because of
their geography, but also because “they were enmeshed in idolatry more than all
the nations of the world.”[28]
Similarly, The Wisdom of Solomon notes that the
Israelites did not wipe out the Canaanites “at once, but judging them gradually
You gave them space for repentance” (12:10).
The best biblical example of judging
Canaanites by their behavior and not by their genes is the case of Rahab of
Jericho. Since she acknowledged the God of Israel as “the God of heaven and
earth” (Joshua 2:12) and threw her lot in with Israel, she and her household
were not only spared but were welcomed “into the midst of Israel” (Joshua
6:25). Rabbinic tradition extended this welcome to marrying Joshua and becoming
the progenitor of priests and prophets.[29] Moreover, based on the fact that “The young men . . . went in and brought out
Rahab . . . and her brethren . . . all her kindred also” (Joshua 6:23), it was
understood that her immediate relatives, and also their relatives totaling many
hundreds were also spared.[30] The other salutary example is the Canaanite Tamar who not only trumped Judah
morally (see Genesis 38:26), but, according to the genealogy at the end of the
Book of Ruth, became the progenitress of King David. The other progenitress was
Ruth the Moabite who is linked to Tamar in Ruth 4:12. That behavior or
life-style trumps genes explains the permissibility of marrying the captured
woman in Deuteronomy 21:10. Having left her previous ways she no longer
presents a temptation of apostasy. Rabbinic tradition following suit
specifically included a Canaanite as long as she had shed her idolatrous ways.[31]
In the same vein, rabbinic tradition
held that the descendants of the Canaanite general Sisera became Torah teachers
in Jerusalem,[32] and that Abraham’s servant Eliezer was removed from the category of Canaanite
due to his loyalty to Abraham,[33] indeed, deemed his peer in piety,[34] worthy of entering Paradise alive.[35]
In the light of the biblical doctrine of
repentance (“For it is not My desire that anyone shall die—declares the Lord
God. Repent, therefore, and live!” — Ezekiel 18:32), it is hard to contemplate
an alternative. Such a doctrine does not sit well with the possibility of
irredeemable evil. A lesson that Jonah had a hard time learning. According to
The Book of Jonah, even Nineveh, the capital of the empire that brought ruin on
the lost tribes of Israel and annihilated everything in its path (see Isaiah
37:11), could avert destruction by engaging in repentance. Finally, the
evidence that the issue was all along ethical and not ethnic lies in the fact
that Abraham was prevented from taking possession of the land in his day
“because the iniquity of the Amorites was not yet complete” (Genesis 15:16),
whereas his descendants were allowed to take possession because of the
“wickedness of these nations” (Deuteronomy 9:4-5).
The midrashic tradition followed the
biblical categorization of groups through a combination of ethics and
ethnicity. With regard to repentance, the Midrash pointed out that the Torah
was given in the third month whose Zodiac symbol is twins to make the point
that were Jacob’s twin Esau to repent and convert and study Torah God would
accept him.[36] In fact, God looks forward “to  the
nations of the world repenting so that He might bring them nigh beneath His
wings.”[37] Kindness is also a criterion for inclusion; its absence a criterion for
exclusion. The Cannanite Rahab is allowed in for her act of her kindness.[38] Even Egyptians, according to Deuteronomy 23:8b-9, are accepted after
three generations apparently for having initially extended kindness to Israel.[39] The case of the Moabite Ruth is exemplary. According to Deuteronomy 23:4-5,
Moabites are not allowed into the Congregation of the Lord because of their
lack of human decency and hospitality to Israel after the Exodus. In contrast,
Ruth is accepted because of her decency and kindness to her Jewish
mother-in-law.[40] Her example led to the wholesale exemption of women from the Deuteronomic
prohibition.[41]
She in fact is a latter day Tamar. Both Tamar and Ruth are erstwhile barren
foreign widows of Israelite men who insinuate themselves into the messianic
line through linking up with prominent progenitors of David through a
combination of feminine wiles and moral rectitude.
In the same vein, Eliezer’s criterion,
according to Genesis 24:14, for incorporating a woman into Abraham’s family was
precisely kindness and hospitality to strangers. In fact, the midrash lists ten
biblical women of Egyptian, Midianite, Cannanite, Moabite, and Kenite origin
whose kindness accounts for their acceptance as converts.[42] As noted, kindness qualifies one for inclusion as its absence qualifies one for
exclusion, as the Talmud says, “Anyone who has mercy on people, is presumed to
be of our father Abraham’s seed; and anyone who does not have mercy on people,
is presumed not to be of our father Abraham’s seed.”[43]  Maimonides follows suit by defining
charitableness as “the sign of the righteous person, the seed of Abraham our
Father. Indeed if someone is cruel and does not show mercy, there are grounds
to suspect his or her lineage.”[44] Obviously, Abrahamic lineage has also an ethical DNA marker. 

            In sum, there are basically
four strategies for removing the seven-nations ruling from the post-biblical
ethical agenda and vitiating it as a precedent for contemporary practice:

1. The recognition that the mandate for their extermination was a minority
position in the Bible, significantly limited to Deuteronomy 7:1-2, and was only
thought to be partially implemented in parts of the Book of Joshua.
2. The realization that since the threat was posed by their religion and ethics
a change in them brings about a change in their status.
3. The limitation of the jurisdiction of the ruling to the conditions of
ancient Canaan at the time of Joshua.
4. The application of the “Sennacherib principle” that holds that under the
Assyrian empire conquered peoples lost their national identity.

 These four stratagems of the biblical and
post-biblical exegetical tradition mitigate if not undermind the ruling
regarding the destruction of the Canaanites. In both cases, ethics end up
trumping genealogy. This understanding helps account for the absence of any
drive to exterminate or dispossess the seven nations even when Israel was at
the height of its power under the reigns of David and Solomon. 
                                                Postscript
According to John Yoder’s When War Is Unjust, holy wars differ from just
wars in the following five respects:
1. holy wars are validated by a
transcendent cause;
2. the cause is known by revelation;
3. the adversary has no rights;   
4. the criterion of last resort need not
apply;
5. it need not be “winnable.”[45]
This study illustrates how the antidotes
to 3-5 were woven into the ethical fabric of the biblical wars of destruction.
In most cases the resort to war even against the Canaanites was only pursuant
to overtures of peace or in counterattack, and even the chances of success
against Midian were weighed by the Urim and Tumim. It is therefore not
surprising that the expression “holy war” is absent not only from the Bible but
also from the subsequent Jewish ethical and military lexicon.[46]
[1] For a survey of
alternative ways of dealing with the history of the problem outside of Jewish
exegesis, see Ed Noort, “War in the Book of Joshua: History or Theology,”
Deuterocanonical and Cognate Literature Yearbook: Visions of Peace and Tales of
War
(Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2010), pp. 69-86, at 72-76. For an
assemblage of material on ḥerem, see P. D. Stern, The Biblical
Herem: A Window on Israel’s Religious Experience
, Brown Judaic Studies 211;
Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1991.
[2] For the whole
subject of  war in the Bible, see Charles
Trimm, “Recent Research on Warfare in the Old Testament,” Currents in
Biblical Research 10 (2012), pp. 171-216.
[3] On the practice
of genocide in antiquity, see Louis Feldman, “Remember Amalek!”: Vengeance,
Zealotry, and Group Destruction in the Bible according to Philo, Pseudo-Philo,
and Josephus
, (Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 2004), pp. 2-6.
[4] Sources differ
on the number. For seven, see Deuteronomy 7:1, Joshua 3:10, 24:11. For six, see
Exodus 3:8, 17; 23:23, 33:2, etc. For five, see Exodus 13:5, 1 Kings 9:20, 2
Chronicles 8:7. For three, see Exodus 23:28. The most comprehensive list is
Genesis 15:19-20 with ten.
[5] The Septuagint
and PseudoJonathan have, in Exodus 33:2, the angel expelling
them.
[6] This is
apparently behind the historical recollection of Psalm 4:2.
[7] See 23:32, 33:2.
[8] See Baruch
Levine, Numbers 1-20 (AB 4a) (New York: Doubleday, 1993), p. 446f.,with
Leviticus 27:28, and Ezekiel 44:29.
[9]  R. W. L.
Moberly, “Toward an Interpretation of the Shema,” ed. Christopher Seitz and
Kathryn Greene-McCreight, Theological Exegesis: Essays in Honor of Brevard
S. Childs
(Grand Rapids, MI: W.B. Eerdmans, 1999), pp. 124-144, at 136. For
an expansion of this metaphor thesis, see Nathan MacDonald, Deuteronomy and
the Meaning of “Monotheism
”, (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2003), pp. 108-123.
[10] Jacob Milgrom, Numbers,
The JPS Torah Commentary (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society,
1990), p. 429; see idem, Leviticus (AB 3) ( New York: Doubleday,
1991-2001) 3:2419. Alternatively, see Ziony Zevit, “The Search for Violence in
Israelite Culture and in the Bible,”
eds.
David Bernat and Jonathen Klawans, Religion and Violence: The Biblical
Heritage
(Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2007), pp. 16-37, at 25, and 31.
[11] Baruch Levine, Numbers
1-20
(AB 4a) (New York: Doubleday, 1993), p. 372; see Targum Jonathan,
ad loc. Similarly, the last word of Numbers 21:3 can be rendered as Hormah or
“Destruction;” see Milgrom, ibid., Numbers, pp.172, 456-48. According to
Judges1:17, Hormah was destroyed later; see Tigay, Deuteronomy, p. 348,
n. 121.
[12] See Yehezkel
Kaufmann, Sefer Yehoshua (Jerusalem: Kiryat Sefer,1959), pp. 146-47.
[13] See Yehezkel
Kaufmann, The Religion of Israel: From Its Beginnings to the Babylonian
Exile
(New York: Schocken,1960), p. 248. With regard to Judges 3:5-6, see
ibid., n. 4.
14] Judges 11:23,
Psalm 44:3, 80:8b, 2 Chronicles 20:7, Fourth Ezra 1:21, and
The Testament
of Moses 12:8 mention only dispossession.
[15] For the presence
of Canaanites in King David’s administration, see the chapter “King David’s
Scribe and High Officialdom of the United Monarchy of Israel,” in Benjamin
Mazar, The Early Biblical Period: Historical Studies, eds. Shmuel Aḥituv
and Baruch A. Levine, Jerusalem: Israel Exploration Society, 1986.
[16] The prophetic
harangue against Canaanite practices focused on their abhorrent behavior to
their children; see Isaiah 57:5; Jeremiah 
2:23; 3:24; 7:31-32; 19:5-6, 11; 32:35; Ezekiel 16:20-21; 20:25-26,
30-31; 23:36-39. According to Deuteronomy (12:31; 18:9-12) such practices
include child sacrifice. The Wisdom of Solomon
(12:5-6) extends this to slaughtering children and feasting on human flesh and
blood.
[17] Pesiqta de-Rav
Kahana

13.5, ed. Mandelbaum, 1:228f.
[18] Leviticus Rabbah 17.6; see Deuteronomy
Rabbah 5.13-14; P. T. Sheviit 6.1, 36c; and
Maimonides, “Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 6.5. According to the midrash, the
Girgashites took up Joshua’s offer and settled in Africa. Accordingly, there is
no mention of their defeat in the conquest narratives of Joshua 6-12, albeit
they are listed in Joshua 24:11 among the seven nations handed over to Joshua.
[19] See Sifrei
Deuteronomy 200, ed. Finkelstein, p. 237, l. 10. This refers to the
thirty-one kings of Canaan whose defeat is narrated in Joshua 12
[20] See Lawson
Stone, “Ethical and Apologetic Tendencies in the Redaction of the Book of
Joshua,” CBQ 53 (1991), pp. 25-36.
[21] See M. Yadayim
4:4, T. Yadayim 2:17 (ed. Zuckermandel, p. 683), T. Qiddushin
5:4 B. T. Berakhot 28a, B. T. Yoma 54a, with Oṣar HaPosqim,
Even HaEzer 4.
[22] Mishneh Torah,
“Laws of Kings and Their Wars,” 5.4; “Laws of Prohibited Relations,” 12.25. See
idem, The Book of Commandments #187: “They
[Amalek(?) and the seven nations] were finished off and destroyed in the days
of David. Those that survived were dispersed and assimilated into the nations
so that no root of them remained.”
[23] Abraham Kook, Tov
Ro’i
(Jerusalem 5760), p. 22.
[24] See Sifrei
Deuteronomy 200, ed. Finkelstein, p. 237, with n. 10; and Joseph Babad, Minḥat
Ḥinukh
to Sefer Ha-Ḥinukh, mitzvah #527,
[25] Yaakov Zvi
Mecklenburg, HaKtav VeHaKabbalah (New
York: Om Publishing Co., 1946), p. 52a, to Deuteronomy 20:16.
[26] “Laws of Kings
and Their Wars,” 6.1,4; see Leḥem Mishnah ad loc.; and Shlomoh
Goren, Meishiv Milḥamah, 3 vols. (Jerusalem: Ha-idrah Rabbah,
1986), 3:361-366.
[27] Sifrei Deuteronomy
202, T. Sotah  8:7, B. T.
Sotah 35b with Tosafot, s.v., lerabot
[28] See Sifrei
Deuteronomy 60, ed. Finkelstein, p. 125, lines 11-12, with n. 12.
[29]See Sifrei Numbers 78, ed. Horovitz,
p. 74; Sifrei Zutta, ed. Horovitz, p. 263; Midrash Ruth
Rabbah 2.1; Pesikta DeRav Kahana 13. 5, 12,
ed. Mandelbaum, 1:228, 237; and Yalqut Shimoni, Joshua 9, Nevi’im
Rishonim
, ed. Heyman-Shiloni (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1999), p. 16f.,
n. 4f.,  along with Michael Fishbane, The
JPS Bible Commentary Haftarot
(Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication
Society, 2002), p. 232, n. 11; p. 482, n. 11.
[30] See Ruth
Rabbah
2:1 and parallels.
[31] Sifrei Deuteronomy
211; see B. T. Sotah 35b and Tosafot, s.v. lerabot.
[32] B. T. Gittin
57b, B. T. Sanhedrin 96b, Midrash Psalms
1.18.  Sennacherib got a similar
comeuppance (ibid.), while the Moabite king Balak became the progenitor of
Ruth; see B. T. Sotah 47a with parallels.
[33] See Genesis
Rabbah 60.7, p. 647; and Leviticus Rabbah 17.5, p. 383.
[34] Beit HaMidrash,
ed. Jellinek, 6:79.
[35] Derekh Erets Zutta
1.18, ed. Sperber, p. 20.
[36] Pesikta DeRav
Kahana 12.20, ed. Mandelbaum, 1:218.
[37] Song Rabbah
5.16.5, and Numbers Rabbah 1.10 (middle).
[38] See Joshua 2:2
with Pesikta DeRav Kahana 13.4, ed. Mandelbaum,
1:227.
[39] See Rashi ad
loc., and Philo, On the Virtues, 106-108.
[40] See Ruth
2:11-12, 3:10. R. Zeira (Ruth Rabbah 2:14) attributes the
composition of The Book of Ruth to its acts of kindness.
[41] B. T. Yevamot
77a; See M. Yevamot 9:3; Sifrei Deuteronomy 249,
ed. Finkelstein, p. 277, and parallels.
[42] See Yalqut
Shimoni, Joshua 9, Nevi’im Rishonim, ed. Heyman-Shiloni (Jerusalem:
Mossad Harav Kook, 1999), p. 17, line 15.
[43] B. T. Beṣah
32b.
[44] Mishneh Torah, “Gifts to the
Needy,” 10:1-2.
[45] John Howard
Yoder, When War Is Unjust: Being Honest in Just-war thinking
(Minneapolis: Ausburg Pub. House, 1984), p. 26f.
[46] This point is
even conceded by Reuven Firestone in the Preface to his book titled Holy
War in Judaism, New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
The biblical “wars of God” (Numbers 21:14; I Samuel 17:47, 18:17, 25:28) are
simply battles fought by the people of God. Although Maimonides (“Laws of Kings
and Their Wars,” 4:10) does take them as wars fought for God in the sense that
they are fought to promote God’s unity or to sanctify the Name, he does not
categorize them as commanded wars; see Gerald Blidstein, “Holy War in Maimonidean
Law,” in Perspectives on Maimonides: Philosophical and
Historical Issues, ed. Joel Kraemer (The Littman Library of
Jewish Civilization, 1991), pp. 209-220, esp. 220, n. 33. Nonetheless, there is
no case in the Bible of a war for spreading the Israelite religion to
foreigners or compelling then to accept it nor is there an example of wars of
conquest being dubbed holy even when booty is dedicated to God. For the
insinuation of “holy war” into Protestant, primarily German, biblical
scholarship based on the model of the Islamic Jihad, see Ben
Ollenburger’s Introduction to Gerhard von Rad, Holy War in Ancient Israel
(Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdman’s Publishing Company, 1991), pp. 1-33;
and John Wood, Perspectives on War in the Bible (Macon, GA: Mercer
University Press, 1998), p. 16 with note. 



Dorshei Yichudcha: A Portrait of Professor Elliot R. Wolfson

Dorshei Yichudcha:
A Portrait of Professor Elliot R.
Wolfson[1]
by Joey Rosenfeld
Joey Rosenfeld is a
psychotherapist in St. Louis where he recently moved with his family. He
recently published his first sefer, sc’hok
d’yitzchak
on the Kabbalistic theme butzina d’kardinusa, or darkened light.
More of his writing can be found online at Residual Speech.
לאו כל
מוחא סביל דא[2]
Tasked with the formidable project of recounting Franz Rosenzweig’s life, Emmanuel Levinas apologized in advance
for speaking, as well, about Rosenzweig’s opus, The Star of Redemption. The reason for this, Levinas wrote, was not due to lack of distinction, rather it would be nearly impossible to separate the man from his work.[3] This sentiment can be applied equally to Elliot R. Wolfson and his vast oeuvre. Professor Wolfson’s breathtaking breadth of scholarship – starting from his Through a Speculum that Shines: Vision and Imagination in Medieval Jewish Mysticism[4] to his recent Giving Beyond the Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania[5] – can be said to touch upon every field within the Humanities, as well as significant areas within the Sciences. Trained in Philosophy and the field of Jewish Studies, with a focus on Jewish Mysticism, Wolfson’s erudition, astonishing at times, covers diverse fields such as Hermeneutics, Anthropology, Sociology, Bible, Literary
Criticism, Gender Theory, Psychology and Psychoanalysis, Poetics, Neuroscience, and Comparative Religious studies.[6] While many authors share a similar output as that of Wolfson; ten books, four edited volumes, and tens of essays; few share the unique and apparent unity-of-thought that flows through his body of work. Whether it is an in-depth analysis of occularcentrism within Medieval Jewish mysticism, the dynamics of truth as refracted through the temporal presence of beginning-middle-end, or the Eros of poesies and the poesies of Eros in Jewish Mysticism and Philosophical hermeneutics, Wolfson’s presence as an author, delicately weaving together a tapestry of sources is felt through his texts. This presence, however, is present through its absence. Wolfson occludes himself through and within his texts, thus coloring each of his works with the dialectical dance of concealment and disclosure. Through a speculum of sources, culled from all arenas of thought – ranging from the thirteenth-century masters of Ecstatic Kabbalah to the current leaders of Haredi-Mysticism; from the annals of Greek Philosophy to the most current Hermeneutic- Phenomenologists – Wolfson speaks through and beyond the language of his sources.
Born on the 19th of Kislev,[7] a day pregnant with mystical significance within the Hasidic community of Chabad,[8] Elliot R. Wolfson was raised in a traditional Orthodox Jewish home. With an Orthodox rabbi as his father who was both a pulpit rabbi and a Rosh Yeshiva,[9] young Elliot Wolfson “was surrounded by Jewish textuality” and “was exposed as a teenager to the Hasidic works of Nachman of Bratslav and Chabad. And both of those sects were quite present physically in my environment, so it wasn’t just book study, but I interacted with Hasidim from both of these groups. And that was really my initial entry into kabbalah, or Jewish mysticism,” as he explained in a 2012 interview.[10] Beginning with the Tanya at age thirteen, Wolfson recalls his first experience with the texts of Breslov at a Tikkun Leil Shavuot at the age of fifteen. After that, he began attending classes of the well-known mashpiah of Breslov, Rabbi Zvi Aryeh Rosenfeld.[11] At sixteen, Wolfson began studying Rav Kook’s Orot ha-Kodesh, along with the various works of The Ramchal, including Kelach Pitchei Hokhmah, Derekh ha-Shem, and Da’at Tevunot, etc., and a year later, at age seventeen, he began studying the works of The Maharal.[12]
Wolfson spent three semesters at Yeshiva University, where he had the privilege of hearing Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, at his “public lectures, which were masterful in their philosophical exegesis of Jewish texts. Indeed, I would have to say that it was from Soloveitchik that I drew inspiration for the possibility of rendering traditional sources in a philosophical key,” remembered Wolfson.[13] After his time at Yeshiva University, Wolfson transferred to a program at the CUNY Graduate Center in conjunction with Queens College. It was there, under the tutelage of Professors Henry Wolz and Edith Wyschogrod that he first immersed himself in philosophical study. The relationship with Wyschogrod, whom Wolfson considers to be “one of my most important teachers,” opened up new vistas in the world of continental philosophy, and continued to bear fruits, even after her passing in 2009.[14] It was at CUNY Queens that Wolfson focused his studies to the fields of hermeneutics, phenomenology and existentialism; three registers of thought that would influence his subsequent foray into the field of Jewish mysticism.
After finishing his studies at CUNY Queens, Wolfson made the decision to pursue graduate studies at Brandeis University in the field of Jewish studies with a focus on Jewish mysticism. It was there, under the tutelage of Professors Alexander Altmann, Marvin Fox, and Michael Fishbane, that Wolfson completed his dissertation work on the thirteenth-century Spanish kabbalist Moses de Leon.[15] Regarding Wolfson’s dissertation, one can glean from the following anecdote the deep sense of hermeneutical secrecy already stirring. Wolfson recounts, “an episode that occurred in one of the doctoral qualifying exams. The topic was Perushei Ma’aseh Bere’shit and Perushei Ma’aseh Merkavah in twelfth- and thirteenth-century philosophic and kabbalistic literature. At the end of the exam Professor [Alexander] Altmann asked, “So Mr. Wolfson, what is the secret of the chariot according to Maimonides?” And I said, “The secret is that there is no secret,” and he clapped his hands as a sign of approval.”[16] His dissertation became his first published work, The Book of the Pomegranate: Moses de Leon’s Sefer ha-rimmon.[17] Upon the completion of his graduate work, Wolfson eventually joined the faculty at New York University’s Skirball Department of Hebrew and Judaic Studies in 1987, and was awarded the Judge Abraham Lieberman Professor of Hebrew Studies at New York University in 1993, where he served until early 2014, when he moved to California and currently serves as the Marsha and Jay Glazer professor of Jewish Studies at the University of California, Santa Barbara.
On a more personal note, I have been gifted the opportunity to form a close relationship with Professor Wolfson over the past few years. While he was still in New York, I had the chance to sit and learn on two separate occasions of which I would like to recall. Through the help of my dear friend, Menachem Butler, a meeting was set up in Professor Wolfson’s NYU office.[18] Having previously read numerous works of his, I was prepared to meet a removed and rightfully proud scholar. Entering into Professor Wolfson’s cramped office, I was immediately taken-aback by the sheer amount of books and seforim that lined the shelves, desk and window sills. What was most wonderful, however, was not the quantity of books, but the quality, the difference and the scope of the works scattering his office. On Wolfson’s desk one could find the most current in haredi kabbalah, Heideggerian studies, gender theory as well as recently published works of Hasidut and the students of The Vilna Gaon. These contradictory volumes were not organized by topic, rather they sat, interspersed, erasing the imaginary demarcations separating one stream of thought from its other.
Having prepared a ma’amar from Rav Yitzchak Hutner’s Pachad Yitzhak (Pesach 74) to study, we quickly descended into the textual landscape wherein I experienced, for the first time, the embodiment of what Rosenzweig called sprachdenken, or speech-thinking.[19] The text, in which Rav Hutner describes the constitutive lack within language, opened the door to the inherent gap between what Levinas refers to as the ‘saying’ and the ‘said’. The evasiveness of the perfect word, the impossibility of speech to say what it truly means to be saying, opened the conversation to various overlaps and influences that jumped out from the text before us. Unbeknownst to me, we had encountered one of the fundamental issues at play in Wolfson’s hermeneutics. What stands out most in my memory, however, is not the depth and fluidity of his thinking, but rather a seemingly insignificant incident that occurred during our learning. Having been asked to read the text, I stumbled with the reading of various words. These were not mistakes, in which the word could be misconstrued for a different out-of-context word; these were slight mispronunciations which in no way affected the meaning of the text. While reading, Wolfson, in his quiet and humble voice corrected my pronunciation to ensure that the word be read carefully and correctly. Only afterwards did I recognize the hyper-focus to detail that Professor Wolfson highlighted in his corrections. It is this insistence on the truth, the guardedness with which he approaches each and every text, which marks Wolfson’s works through and through. This attention, what Benjamin (quoting Malebranche) called “the natural prayer of the soul,” has enabled Wolfson to truly-read as he reads-truly.[20]
On another occasion, shortly before he left for the West Coast, I had the merit of accompanying Wolfson on his last pilgrimage to the gravesite of the late Lubavitcher Rebbe, Rav Menachem Mendel Schneerson, known as the ohel. Arriving at the ohel wherein lay the graves of the Rebbe and his predecessor Rav Yosef Yitzhak Schneerson, in what appeared to be a preparatory pause, Wolfson turned around and gazed at the graves of the holy women of Habad, Rebetzeins Chaya Mushka and  Shterna Sarah. Mid-gaze, Wolfson whispered, “She was the wife of the RaShab.” Those words are what I remember most. Uttered with a sense of melancholic yearning, I believe Wolfson was taken back to a space beyond memory, to a place where thinkers like Shalom Dov-Baer Schneerson walked the earth. After spending some time inside the ohel itself, Menachem and I left to give Professor Wolfson privacy with the giants who so deeply impacted his life’s work. Afterwards we sat down to learn a ma’amar from the RaShab,[21] chosen at random. Learning the text – which was written by the RaShab himself – we continuously came across the notation ve’chu, similar to “etc.,” signifying the absence of some extended textual statement. What bothered Professor Wolfson was that seemingly, everything that needed to be expressed was already written. There was no apparent reason for the text to end in the open-ended manner of ve’chu. As Wolfson later explained to me, “Usually this notation is used as an abbreviation so that one does not have to repeat the conclusion of a biblical verse or a rabbinic dictum. The author assumes that the reader can fill in the unstated text. But in the Habad context this notation refers to the inference that the reader must make from what is stated, not a marker of something previously stated.”[22]
Professor Wolfson’s impact on the field on Jewish studies cannot be overstated. In a practical sense, Wolfson has taught and mentored numerous students who have subsequently become significant scholars in the field of Jewish Mysticism.[23] Professor Daniel Abrams, an early Wolfson student, has noted the multifaceted significance of Wolfson’s scholarship as an, “approach to mythopoesis (that) explores such major topics as gender and ontology, entering into dialogue with studies and concepts from philosophy, religious studies (and comparative religions), theology and feminist theory… This history and the various text editions and major studies Wolfson has published in recent years have unfolded into a very complex matrix of methodologies which are unique to his writing and which build upon various disciplines to which few have sufficient access. From rabbinic and kabbalistic anthropology to the ontological and symbolic status of the feminine, Wolfson has shown the tacit assumptions that define the hermeneutic horizons of kabbalistic literature.”[24]
In addition, the various themes that mark Wolfson’s scholarship reverberate throughout much of the current literature and scholarship on Jewish mysticism. His constant presence at conferences and various publications testifies to the massive impact he has had in the field. On a more personal level, his vast contribution to the study of Jewish mysticism is twofold. On the one hand, Wolfson has consistently shown a continuous flow of thought, uninterrupted by the temporal fissures between one publication to the next. Indeed, as it will be shown below, one could posit certain ideas that seem to serve as the foundational stone, the even ha-shisiya, throughout all of Professor Wolfson’s scholarship. On the other hand, Wolfson manifests the true rabbinic ideal of creativity, or hiddush within each work, thus creating a stream-of-thought that is coincidental in its opposition as it is oppositional in its coincidence. Regarding the latter aspect of Wolfson’s thought, Professor Jonathan Garb makes note of “[t]he sheer scope of hiddush, of innovation, in theory, in comparative study and in textual analysis, eclipses any sense of continuity. One may say that there are two ideal types of scholars: One who unfold their earlier conceptions, even if in interesting and deep ways, and those who constantly create new domains, thus becoming one of the founders of discourse that Michel Foucault has both described and personified.”[25] In agreement with Garb’s perception of Wolfson’s capacity to unfold new creases within Jewish studies and beyond, I respectfully disagree with the notion that “the sheer scope of hiddush” diminishes, or “eclipses any sense of continuity.” Wolfson’s scholarship is marked by a unique form of radical hermeneutics which creates a repetition that is interrupted by the incessant sense of re-creation.[26]
This radical creativity, which includes the grafting together of disciplines ordinarily assumed to be separate and distinct, has- at times- been met with a sense of resistance from others in Wolfson’s field. In a more insidious sense, Professor Wolfson’s work in the field of Jewish mysticism has been met through non-meeting, or what seems to be a conscious repression of the often uncomfortable themes that Wolfson textually uncovers. Recognizing this phenomenon early on in Wolfson’s career, Professor Pinchas Giller wrote: “[t]he focus of Wolfson’s work presents challenges to the status qua of the field, and these challenges have not gone unremarked. In addition to challenging scholarly peers, Wolfson has also consistently rejected the glib, platitudinous understandings of Jewish mythology and symbolism prevalent in work written for popular audiences. This eschewing of cant and easy cliché is consistent with the restless searching spirit evident in his scholarship.”[27]
In addition to the challenges Wolfson has engaged other scholars in; his erudition in all areas of Jewish thought has also impacted the reception and engagement with his scholarship. As opposed to the static status many thinkers hold within their area of expertise, Wolfson has consistently crossed the artificial demarcations separating one area from another. Professor Wolfson is equally erudite in modern Hasidic thought – evidenced by his work Open Secret on Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson[28] – as he is in Zoharic scholarship as seen in his numerous articles devoted to questions of origin and the Zohar’s evocative mystical hermeneutics.[29] The dynamic ability to live, simultaneously, in the worlds of Maimonides[30] and Abraham Abulafia,[31] for example, has both elevated and alienated Wolfson from within the static walls of the academy, particularly in Israel. In this regard, Giller wrote: “Few scholars are so brazen as to speak authoritatively about more than one genre or time period. Wolfson seems to have violated the spirit of this social compact. The scope and volume of his writings have been viewed as evidence of a certain presumption, an ambition to rise to eminence without the sanction of Jerusalem.”[32]
Although the claim is authentic, namely, that Wolfson’s erudition stretches beyond the temporal limits of one time period or genre, the sense of “presumption” or academic arrogance is unfounded. Both in his scholarship and personal life, Wolfson exudes a certain lived-sense of humility.[33] The nullification of authorial-sense that allows Wolfson to speak through his sources as his sources speak through him is rooted in the modesty that marks both his life and his scholarship. As will be explained below, this modesty is deeply connected to Wolfson’s primary treatment of Jewish mysticism. The dialectic of concealment and disclosure, modesty and expression, reveals the chiasmic[34] sense of concealment as disclosure and disclosure as concealment. To reveal is to occlude that which cannot be disclosed, as concealment is to disclose that which must remain concealed. Wolfson’s work, far from being a “presumptuous” or arrogant expression of erudition, operates as a manifestation of modesty, secrecy and concealment that marks the nature of Jewish mysticism.
            Another critique aimed at Wolfson’s scholarship is the accusation of philosophical anachronism. The engagement of thinkers temporally removed from the time and space of early kabbalists has led some to claim that Wolfson’s work operates under a certain “obvious charge of anachronism.” In this regard, Wolfson notes that the vast body of his work is contained in “The field of my vision, so to speak, has been leveled, to the degree that is possible, by a focus on kabbalistic sources ranging from the twelfth to the twenty-first centuries, a large temporal swatch by anyone’s account. The use of German and French philosophers primarily from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries to interpret texts of traditional kabbalah, whose ideas may be ancient but whose incipient articulation in a Hebrew idiom is to be traced to a rich creative period from the twelfth to fourteenth century, demands a defense against the obvious charge of anachronism.”[35]
Regarding this claim, it is appropriate to paraphrase a notion depicted by Reb Zadok HaKohen of Lublin, a nineteenth century Hasidic thinker, regarding the nature of the accusatory gaze.[36] Often when an accusation is leveled against a particular individual, it is assumed that the accusatory claim points to a character defect. Through an act of psychological inversion, however, R. Zadok posits that the accusation- far from pointing to a defect in character- points towards the uniqueness of that individual.[37] This may be applied to Professor Wolfson’s creative capacity of posing thinkers, vastly removed by time and space, in dialogue with one another. The weaving of new constellations between thinkers hitherto unassociated marks Wolfson’s work with polyphonic sprachdenken, or speech-thinking.[38]  In this sense, Wolfson has paved new clearings along the path of Jewish mysticism. The utilization of philosophers, poets and religious thinkers from separate domains has given Wolfson the opportunity of translating[39] ancient kabbalistic ideas into a modern academic idiom. Far from the self-serving act of philosophical name-dropping, Wolfson’s engagement with these thinkers is an essential aspect of his thought’s unfolding. Equally erudite in the fields of continental philosophy as he is in Jewish mysticism, the often astonishing ease with which Wolfson weaves through the intertextual landscapes creates a vortex in which the kabbalists speak through the philosophers as the philosophers speak through the kabbalists.
Among the various thinkers with whom Wolfson has engaged in the infinite conversation, a select few stand out as constant presences in his scholarship.
First and foremost, Martin Heidegger’s philosophy and poetics have served as a speculum through which Wolfson has peered, moving through and beyond the Heideggerian notions of ontology, temporality, language, poetics, eschatology and dialectics of concealment and disclosure. Deeply aware of the controversies surrounding Heidegger’s dishonorable past; Wolfson has engaged the German philosopher’s thought while simultaneously recognizing his personal, political and even philosophical failures.[40] Wolfson has even hinted to the possibility of Heidegger manifesting certain traits of the biblical nemesis of the Jewish people, Balaam.[41] Much like Balaam who blessed the Jewish people through his attempt to curse them, Heidegger’s thought has provided fertile ground for Jewish thinkers, even as he was engaged in an insidious form of anti-Semitism.[42]
 Emmanuel Levinas is another thinker with whom Wolfson engages in philosophical dialogue, often resulting in the appreciation and acceptance of certain Levinasian notions while concurrently moving beyond the limit of his ethical and ontological premises. Critical of Levinas’s rhetorical and absolute renunciation of Heidegger’s thought, Wolfson clears a middle path through which the demarcations separating Levinas and Heidegger are written under erasure.[43]
 Another philosophical muse of Wolfson’s is Jacques Derrida. The Jewish father of deconstruction marks the pages of Wolfson’s scholarship, as well as his personal philosophical stance. Derrida’s utilization of James Joyce’s enigmatic statement, “Jewgreek is Greekjew, extremes meet?”[44] has given Wolfson a predecessor in his chiasmic dance of exclusion as inclusion and distance as closeness.[45] Derrida’s discussions on language, writing, absence, and negative theology have deeply influenced Wolfson’s scholarship.[46] In particular, the notion of the Derridian differance, or trace – a presence that is present through absence as it is absent through presence- has played a significant role in Wolfson’s development of such topics as zimzum and secrecy that play a central role in the Jewish mystical tradition. Professor Wolfson has stated that the Derridian trace plays a key and central role throughout most of his philosophical hermeneutics.[47] In addition to the philosophical themes wherein these thinkers overlap, the sociopolitical critiques that Derrida has leveled against Western ontotheology have impacted Wolfson’s approach to the Jewish mystical tradition.
The area in which this is most apparent is Wolfson’s claim that Jewish mystical texts and traditions operate within a closed, phallocentric system.[48] Echoing Derrida’s claim that Western thought has consistently worked within the economy of binary oppositions, while simultaneously privileging the masculine sense of presence and speech over the more feminized forms of absence and writing, Wolfson sees the Jewish mystical tradition as being a phallocentric discourse spoken through the mouths of male mystics. Wolfson has received much attention, not always positive, as a result of his stance.[49] Numerous scholars have attempted to take Wolfson to task, claiming that Jewish mysticism gives precedence to the feminine aspect of the Godhead, namely the shkina, and thus manifests a certain mystical feminism in which the patriarchal sense of privileging the masculine is overturned.[50] As Wolfson points out, the masculine in Jewish mystical texts represents the capacity to overflow, while the feminine reflects the passive capacity to receive. In this regard, Wolfson utilizes various thinkers within the French feminist movement, first and foremost the thought of the psychoanalyst and philosopher, Luce Irigaray, to elucidate his stance on gender-valence. Quite aware of the source material in which Jewish mystical texts apply an elevated, eschatological notion to the feminine, Wolfson has consistently pointed out that the inversion of hierarchal status is not equivalent to the undoing of essentialist and binary views of gender.  While the feminine may be elevated to its initial space of origin, in the spirit of the rabbinic dictum, “a woman of valor is the crown of her husband,” implying an overcoming of the diminution of the feminine vis-à-vis the masculine, the feminine is still endowed with masculine traits, thus maintaining the hierarchal status of gender even in its collapsing. While Wolfson is aware of the difficulty in accepting such an essentialist approach to gender performativity in the Jewish mystical tradition, he has stressed the need of critically analyzing texts through their anthropological and philological counterparts.[51] It is important to note, however, that while affirming the masculine-oriented nature of the tradition, Wolfson is by no means closing the text off beyond any redemptive stance.  In his later work,[52] Wolfson has shown that certain Jewish texts do clear a path through which the patriarchal, male-dominant notions inherent within the Jewish mystical tradition can be overcome. This eschatological advent of an undifferentiated state of non-duality, in which the feminine is no longer considered other, due to the fact that the masculine loses its privileged stance as the same, is rooted in the highest manifestation of the Divine-Plemora, namely Reisha-d’lo-ityada, or the unknown, or unknowable head. It is here, in this yet undefined state, not due to lack of definition, but rather inherently tied up in its own indefinability, that the promise of redemption lays.
In order to understand Wolfson’s concentration on the nature of the feminine, and the totalized system of Jewish mystical thought which appears to operate within a patriarchal framework, one needs to view his scholarly contributions through the lens of his personal and philosophical attitudes.  In this sense it is important to note the comments of Professor David Novak, in which he stated: “I have been trying to goad Elliot Wolfson, whom I consider to be the most philosophically interesting of today’s kabbalah scholars, into explicating kabbalah philosophically, that is, doing when speaking in the first person, because a philosopher has to speak in the first person. A philosopher has to say, “‘This is what I think is true.’ Wolfson’s explication of kabbalah is philosophical, but it has to be stated more clearly in his own voice, rather than in the voice or voices of his sources.”[53]
Although I categorically disagree with Novak’s claim that “a philosopher has to speak in the first person,” or that Wolfson’s thought need be “stated more clearly in his own voice,” the notion that Wolfson renders kabbalah in a philosophical key, as well as philosophy through a kabbalistic key is noteworthy. Throughout Wolfson’s writings, one senses a personal journey- perhaps even a wandering – through the labyrinthine pathways of text, context and pretext.[54]  Grafting together thinkers, divided by the fissures of temporal sway, Wolfson allows his “still small voice” to murmur beneath the magnificent edifices he erects. This voice, pregnant with a suffering unique to the mystical-hermeneutical quest, dances between the black and white fires that have become Wolfson’s plaything. The delicate balance between Wolfson’s personal, philosophical outlook and the scholarly body-of-text creates a third, wholly new path within the field of Jewish mysticism. Returning to the emphasis on the role of the feminine in Jewish mysticism, one theme- erupting from the silent voice- marks the pages of Wolfson’s scholarship, namely- an ethically and ontologically driven concern for the other.
In Wolfson’s own words: “If I were to isolate a current running through the different studies, it would be the search to resolve the ontological problem of identity and difference, a philosophic matter that has demanded much attention in various contemporary intellectual currents, to wit, literary criticism, gender studies, post-colonial theory, social anthropology, just to name a few examples. Indeed, it is possible to say, with no exaggeration intended, that there has been a quest at the heart of my work to understand the other, to heed and discern the alterity of alterity…What has inspired the quest for me has been the discernment on the part of the kabbalists that the ultimate being-becoming becoming being- nameless one known through the ineffable name, yhwh- transcends oppositional binaries, for, in the one that is beyond the difference of being one or the other, light is dark, black is white, night is day, male is female, Adam is Edom.”[55]
Wolfson’s concern for the other, the subject removed from the philosopher’s gaze, transcends the everyday concern for the sociopolitical standing of various groups. Disquieted by the hierarchies of power on a practical level,[56] Wolfson sees the othering of the other as a symptom of a more fundamental, philosophical issue. The feminine, for Wolfson, speaks for all that which has been relegated to the margins of alterity. These specters of presence, repressed by Western ontotheological discourse, have engaged Wolfson in a lifelong quest to disclose that which has been concealed from sight. Operating from within the position of kabbalistic texts, Wolfson has shown that “the ontological problem of identity and difference” rests at the center of the Jewish mystical tradition. Whether it is the dialectic of zimzum which discloses through concealment as it conceals through disclosure; the contradictory essence of the sefirot that operate concurrently as the finitude-of-infinity and the infinity-of-finitude; the eschatological hope for the advent of the messiah that is disclosed-through-its-foreclosure as it is foreclosed-through-its-disclosure; the speaking of the Name that is no-Name that may only be spoken through non-speaking; or the duality of secrecy that is secret-in-exposure as it is exposed-in-secret; Wolfson clears a path in which the identity of the same can only take root through the difference of the other, and vice versa.
 It is important to note, that although Wolfson employs a certain dialectical logic to highlight the oppositional relation between one thing and its other, by no means does he allow the dialectical pressure to find relief in a totalized synthesis. Like many philosophers engaged with continental or post-modernist thought, Wolfson is no longer comfortable relying on transcendentally prescribed truths, or “meta-narratives” to enclose the open-endedness of thought in the post-Hegelian epoch.[57] In contradistinction to many self-proclaimed post-Hegelian’s, however, Wolfson’s disavowal of the “synthesis which reconciles the two” does not stem simply from an external adherence to the populist philosophical zeitgeist. Rather, Wolfson’s insistence on keeping the dialectical movement in play stems from uncovering the limit of thought in which the identity-of-difference can only be expressed through the difference-of-identity. In other words, the divergent paths of separation may only unite through the separateness of their divergence. In this space of the excluded middle, each thing and its other remain distinct, with neither pole swallowing its other in an act of metaphysical violence. This limit of thought as Wolfson notes,[58] is representative of, “‘the mystery of the light of infinity’- which is predicated on the supposition that A and not-A are the same in virtue of their difference, or…shnei hafakhim be-nose ehad, ‘two opposites in one subject’.” Viewed in this light, Wolfson enters into, “the scandal of the coicidentia oppositourm such that the Yes can become a No and the No, a Yes, not by way of conflation but by juxtaposition, the disappearance of the very possibility of difference in the nonidentity of the identity of opposites; that is, opposites are identical by virtue of their opposition.”[59] It is at this limit-of-thought which is simultaneously the thought-of-limit where Wolfson sees the root of the mystical experience, or in the language of Maurice Blanchot, ‘the limit experience’.[60]
To enter into this paradoxical ‘place that is no place’[61] where opposites coincide in their opposition, Wolfson travels ‘a path from the side’ in which the necessary delimitations of logic are necessarily circumvented. In this sense, one may locate Wolfson’s thought within the sefirotic-space of keter, the super-rational will, or desire in which limits collapse while paradoxically upholding their limitations. Seen through the (dark)light of keter, Wolfson’s feverish[62] obsession with Nothingness becomes an essential aspect of his thinking, as well as lived-experience.[63]
 In the space of a Nothing that is a something that is no-thing, the normative, restrictive nature of language and thought must be transgressed. This transgression, however, is not a simple disavowal of language and thought, rather- it is the movement through and beyond the limit of these phenomenological modes-of-being. The dialectical play of keter – in which Nothing and Something, Ayin and Yesh, coincide so that the something-of-nothing, Atik Yomin, becomes the nothing-of-something, Arich Anpin – enables Wolfson to speak through the nothingness-of-language which is concurrently the language-of-nothingness, as he thinks imaginatively through imaginative-thinking. In other words, as opposed to the normative response to that which transcends identification, namely the Wittgensteinian ‘not-speaking’, Wolfson engages in a hermeneutics of ‘speaking-not’.[64] Deeply aware of language’s limit, Wolfson speaks through language towards its (n)ever receding horizon, thus transforming the nihilistic tendency of language’s shattering into an affirmation of that that which can never be affirmed.[65] The same can be said regarding Wolfson’s approach to rational thinking. Operating within the Aristotelian laws-of-logic, the Western ontotheological tradition has engraved a deep boundary separating that which can be thought and that which transcends the human capacity of thought. Wolfson, however, reaching the limit of thoughts interiority, “breaks on through to the other side,” wandering into the recesses of exteriorities (un)thought space. At the threshold, Wolfson relinquishes the bonds of ‘mental slavery’ and enters the luminous space of imaginal thinking.[66] Wolfson’s imaginative faculty enables him to think otherwise, beyond positivistic and perceivable reality. However, Wolfson’s approach to imaginationmuch like his approach to languageis far more complex than the mere denial of rational thought’s efficacy. Rigorously avoiding the fantastical flight into irrationality, Wolfson’s imaginal gleanings are marked by a strict set of laws, thus enabling the paradoxical play of imaginative-thinking and thinking-imaginatively. Similar to a dream in which the imaginary is grounded by the factual as the factual is grounded by the imaginary, Wolfson’s hermeneutics transform the black and white texts into a polyphonic expression of all that remains inexpressible.
Arriving again at the beginning, we can now comment on an essential aspect of Wolfson’s life-work, that is, the two forms of expression that walk along the path of his scholarship. The poetic hermeneutics that mark Wolfson’s theoretical work manifest, suddenly “with the turn of a breath” in his personal poetry.[67] In the ruins of language, Wolfson finds the openings through which his poetic breath may enter. Following in the trace of the poet Paul Celan, Wolfson speaks ‘every word through destruction’. The poems, often times difficult to read- not due to their opacity, but rather, due to the imaginal stirrings that are evoked- are an embodiment of the rabbinic idiom, “miut ha-machazik et ha-meruba,” the diminutive that encompasses the enormous.  The exilic nature of the poems leads the reader down the path that is no path, into the silent and lonely clearing where presence and absence dance. Reading Wolfson’s poetics along the furrows of his scholarship enables the reader to behold the embodied nature of Wolfson’s lived-thought. Along with his poetry, Wolfson is a seasoned artist whose paintings have been featured at various showings.[68] If poetry is the response to language’s limit, art is born from within rationalities foreclosure. Wolfson’s paintings depict the evanescence of color, the fleetingness of forms that get caught in the horizon of the frame. The kol of Wolfson’s poetics and the ohr of his aesthetics escort his philosophical hermeneutics into the space of the mystical experience.
Much like Wolfson’s triadic expression of scholarship, poetics and aesthetics, the written or marked space can only take the reader so far. The reader must engage with the texts through an act of hermeneutical inquisitiveness, opening themselves to what murmurs beneath the surface of the text. In this sense Elliot R. Wolfsons’s work not only opens upon a new path, but beckons the reader to join him.
Notes:
[1] The title of this essay, “Dorshei Yichudcha,” is taken
from the Ana BeKoach prayer attributed to R. Nechunya ben HaKanah. Translated
by Louis Jacobs as “Seeker of Unity,” this appellation is easily applied to
Professor Elliot R. Wolfson. The full context of this phrase in the prayer is
as follows, “nah gibor dorshei yichudcha ki-vavat shamrem” (“please protect the
seekers of Your unity like the apple of Your eye”). In his monograph on the
Hasidic mystic R. Aaron haLevi Horowitz of Starosselje, “The Seeker of Unity,”
Louis Jacobs records from R. Chaim Meir Hillman’s Beis Rebbe (1:26 fn.1) that when R. Dov Ber Schneerson, the
Mitteler Rebbe of Habad would repeat this verse, he would have his dear friend
and study partner, R. Aaron haLevi in mind. The reason, explained R. Dov Ber
was because R. Aaron delves so deeply into the secret of faith, “the raza
di-meheimanusa,” to the point where the demarcations of reality and Godliness
dissolve. See Louis Jacobs, Seeker of
Unity: The Life and Works of Aaron of Starosselje
(London: Vallentine
Mitchell, 1966), 7. See also Immanuel Etkes, “The War of Lyady Succession: R.
Aaron Halevi versus R. Dov Baer,” Polin
25 (2013): 93-133.
“Dorshei,” from the root darash, represents the
hermeneutical quest, the textual journey into that which lay within the words
themselves. “Yichudcha,” from the root yichud, represents the unity of all, the
source beneath the fragmentation of things that unites all that is different
within the difference-of-unity. The hermeneutical path that seeks to uncover
the unity of all is a proper description of Elliot R. Wolfson’s life and work.
[2]
Tanya, Chapter Twenty-Three.
[3] Emmanuel Levinas, Difficult
Freedom: Essays on Judaism
, trans. Seán Hand (London: The Athlone Press,
1990),  181.
[4] (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994).
[5] (New York: Fordham University Press, 2014).
[6] A complete listing of his articles and book chapters are
available on his personal website here, as well as here.
[7] See Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of
Menahem Mendel Schneerson
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2009),
xii-xiii, where Wolfson recounts a conversation held between himself and an
older Lubavitcher Hasid at 770 Eastern Parkway regarding the significance of
this birthdate. Wolfson quotes the Hasid as ending the conversation with, “Pay
attention, this day bears your destiny.”
[8] Amongst all streams of Jewish thought, it is possible to
say that Habad Hasidus has played one of the most significant roles in Wolfson’s
thought. His Elliot R. Wolfson, Open
Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel
Schneerson
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2009)  is considered by many the authoritative and
definitive work on the role of kabbalah in the late Lubavitcher Rebbe’s thought
and political/theological weichenstellung. See as well Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Revisioning the Body Apophatically: Incarnation and the Acosmic Naturalism of
Habad Hasidism,” in Chris Boesel, and Catherine Keller, eds., Apophatic Bodies: Negative Theology,
Incarnation, and Relationality
(Fordham: Fordham University Press, 2010),
147-199. For his in-depth discussion on the fifth rebbe of Habad, R. Sholom Dov
Ber Schneerson’s thought, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Nequddat ha-Reshimu-The Trace
of Transcendence and Transcendence of the Trace: The Paradox of Simsum in the
RaShaB’s Hemshekh Ayin Beit,” Kabbalah
30 (2013): 75-120.
[9] Rabbi Wilfred Wolfson was an early student of Rabbi
Yaakov Yitzchok Ruderman at Yeshivas Ner Yisrael ( (Ner Israel Rabbinical
College), Baltimore, in the 1940’s. According to his son, Rabbi Wolfson was the
first rabbinic student from Ner Israel to be given permission to attend Johns
Hopkins University, where he studied with Professor William Foxwell Albright.
See Wilfred Wolfson, “Review of William Foxwell Albright, The Archaeology of Palestine,” The
Jewish Horizon
(March 1950): 18.
Rabbi Wilfred Wolfson served as the longtime rabbi of
Congregation Sha’arei Tefillah in Brooklyn and was a popular Rosh Yeshivah at
Yeshiva University/BTA in Brooklyn. Upon his death, Rabbi Wilfred Wolfson’s
collection of seforim was sent to the library at Ner Israel.
[10] Interview With Elliot R. Wolfson, July 25, 2012, in
Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 195.
[11] Rabbi Zvi Aryeh Rosenfeld is the one who is
single-handedly responsible for introducing the teachings of Breslov on the
American scene from the 1950s until his death in 1978.
[12] Email correspondence with Elliot R. Wolfson (16 July
2015). Teachings from Rav Kook, Ramchal, and Maharal are to be found throughout
Wolfson’s work.
[13] Interview With Elliot R. Wolfson, July 25, 2012, in
Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 196. For
his recent (and extensive) treatment of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik’s thought,
see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Eternal Duration and Temporal Compresence: The
Influence of Habad on Joseph B. Soloveitchik,” in Michael Zank and Ingrid
Anderson, eds., The Value of the
Particular: Lessons from Judaism and the Modern Jewish Experience – Festschrift
for Steven T. Katz on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday
(Leiden:
Brill, 2015), 196-238.
[14] See Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of
Imagination
(New York: Zone Books, 2011), in which he dedicates the work,
“To the memory of Edith Wyschogrod, for showing me the way to the way of
nonshowing.” Wolfson adds the evocative Latin phrase, “somnium somnia quasi semper vives. Vive
quasi hodie moriebar
– ‎Dream as if
you’ll live forever. Live as if you’ll die today.”
For his extensive treatment of Wyschogrod’s thought, see Elliot
R. Wolfson, Giving Beyond the Gift:
Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2014), 201-227. For Wolfson’s earlier work on Wyschogrod, see Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Apophasis and the Trace of Transcendence: Wyschogrod’s Contribution to a Postmodern
Jewish Immanent A/theology,” Philosophy
Today
55:4 (Winter 2011): 328-347; and for his article published in a
memorial festschrift for Wyschogrod, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Kenotic Overflow
and Temporal Transcendence: Angelic Embodiment and the Alterity of Time in
Abraham Abulafia,” in Eric Boynton and Martin Kavka, eds., Saintly Influence: Edith Wyschogrod and the Possibilities of Philosophy
of Religion
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2009), 113-149.
[15] Wolfson published the following essays in honor of his
doctoral advisors, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Mystical Rationalization of the
Commandments in the Prophetic Kabbalah of Abraham Abulafia,” in Alfred L. Ivry,
Elliot R. Wolfson & Allan Arkush, eds., Perspectives
on Jewish Thought and Mysticism
[=Alexander Altmann Memorial Volume]
(Reading: Harwood Academic Publishers, 1998), 311-360; Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Female Imaging of the Torah: From Literary Metaphor to Religious Symbol,” in
Jacob Neusner, Ernest S. Frerichs, and Nahum M. Sarna, eds., From Ancient Israel to Modern Judaism,
Intellect In Quest of Understanding: Essays in Honor of Marvin Fox
, vol. 2
(Atlanta: Scholars Press, 1989), 271-307; Elliot R. Wolfson, “‘Sage Is
Preferable to Prophet’: Revisioning Midrashic Imagination,” in Deborah A. Green
and Laura S. Lieber, eds., Scriptural
Exegesis: The Shapes of Culture and the Religious Imagination: A Festschrift in
Honor of Michael Fishbane
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 186-210.
[16] Email correspondence with Elliot R. Wolfson (16 July
2015). Wolfson’s response confirmed the approached first taken by Professor
Altmann in his earliest essay, in Alexander Altmann, “Das Verhältnis Maimunis
zur jüdischen Mystik,” Monatsschrift für
Geschichte und Wissenschaft des Judentums, 80 Jahrgang
(1936): 305-330
(German), which appeared in English translation in Alexander Altmann,
“Maimonides’ Attitude toward Jewish Mysticism,” Alfred Jospe, ed., Studies in Jewish Thought: An Anthology of
German Jewish Scholarship
(Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1981),
200-219. See Lawrence Fine, “Alexander Altmann’s Contribution to the Study of
Jewish Mysticism,” Leo Baeck Institute
Yearbook
34:1 (1989): 421-431, as well as Wolfson’s extensive discussion on
the Maimonidean secret in Elliot R. Wolfson, Abraham Abulafia — Kabbalist and Prophet: Hermeneutics, Theosophy and
Theurgy
(Los Angeles: Cherub Press, 2000).
[17] Elliot R. Wolfson, The
Book of the Pomegranate: Moses de Leon’s Sefer ha-Rimmon
(Atlanta: Scholars
Press, 1988). About this edition, Daniel Abrams has written: “No Hebrew word
processing paragraph today can link the base-text to the line numbers of the
edition, to the variant readings and to the editor’s notes. Such linkage has to
be done manually. See the most complex page layout of any camera-ready edition
prepared by a single scholar in the field of Jewish mysticism: Elliot Wolfson’s
The Book of the Pomegranate.” See Daniel Abrams, Kabbalistic Manuscripts and Textual Theory: Methodologies of Textual
Scholarship and Editorial Practice in the Study of Jewish Mysticism

(Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2010), 69n169.
[18] I would like to thank yedidi Reb Menachem Butler for
his help in preparing this essay. More importantly, Menachem has played a
uniquely important role in my life, opening space for relationships otherwise
inaccessible. Echoing the sentiment expressed to me by Professor Michael
Fishbane shlita, Menachem is a shadchan in the truest sense of the word,
uniting worlds otherwise disparate. The indelible mark Menachem has imparted
onto and into the world of Torah and Jewish studies is unparalleled. It is
through Menachem that I came to meet Professor Wolfson, and through Menachem is
this essay possible.
[19] See below for Wolfson’s usage of Rosenzweigian sprachdenken.
[20] See Walter Benjamin, “Franz Kafka,” trans. Harry Zohn,
in Michael W. Jennings, Howard Eiland, and Gary Smith, eds., Selected Writings, vol. 2, 1927-1934
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1999), 812.
[21] I do not recall the exact ma’amar studied, but the topic was the paradoxical nature of simsum
in which concealment is disclosed through the disclosure of concealment.
[22] Email correspondence with Elliot R. Wolfson (17 July
2015).
[23] Among the numerous students Wolfson has supervised,
Professors Daniel Abrams, Jonathan Dauber and Hartley Lachter have become
scholars of Jewish Mysticism, often building upon the themes in Wolfson’s work.
See, for example, Daniel Abrams, The
Female Body of God in Kabbalistic Literature: Embodied Forms of Love and
Sexuality in the Divine Feminine
(Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2004); Jonathan
Dauber, Knowledge of God and the
Development of Early Kabbalah
(Leiden: Brill, 2012); Hartley Lachter, Kabbalistic Revolution: Reimagining Judaism
in Medieval Spain
(New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 2015), and
others. Aside from his official students, Wolfson has mentored various scholars
in the field as well.
[24] Daniel Abrams, Kabbalistic
Manuscripts and Textual Theory: Methodologies of Textual Scholarship and
Editorial Practice in the Study of Jewish Mysticism
(Jerusalem: Magnes
Press, 2010), 13-14.
[25] Jonathan Garb, “In Honor of Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream,” NYU-Humanities Initiative (28 February
2012), available online here.
[26] This sense of radical hermeneutics is borrowed from
John D. Caputo, Radical Hermeneutics:
Repetition, Deconstruction and The Hermeneutic Project
(Bloomington: Indiana
University Press, 1987) and on his usage of this terminology, see Elliot R.
Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being:
Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham
University Press, 2005), 473fn27.
[27] See Pinchas Giller, “Elliot Wolfson and the Study of
Kabbalah in the Wake of Scholem,” Religious
Studies Review
25:1 (January 1999): 23-28.
[28] Elliot R. Wolfson, Open
Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel
Schneerson
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2009).
[29] For a compilation of Wolfson’s work on the Zohar, see
Elliot R. Wolfson, Luminal Darkness:
Imaginal Gleanings from Zoharic Literature
(Oxford: Oneworld, 2007).
Regarding the importance of Wolfson’s Zoharic scholarship see, Daniel Abrams, Kabbalistic Manuscripts and
Textual Theory: Methodologies of Textual Scholarship and Editorial Practice in
the Study of Jewish Mysticism
(Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2010): 132-133,
353-359.
[30] On Maimonides, see, Elliot R. Wolfson, “Beneath the
Wings of the Great Eagle: Maimonides and Thirteenth-Century Kabbalah,” in Görge
K. Hasselhoff and Otfried Fraisse, eds., Moses
Maimonides (1138-1204): His Religious, Scientific, and Philosophical
Wirkungsgeschichte in Different Cultural Contexts
(Würzburg: Ergon Verlag,
2004), 209-237; and regarding the impact of Maimonidean negative theology on
early Jewish mysticism, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Negative Theology and Positive
Assertion in the Early Kabbalah,” Da’at
32-33 (1994): V-XXII (English); Elliot R. Wolfson, “Via Negativa in Maimonides
and Its Impact on Thirteenth-Century Kabbalah,” Maimonidean Studies 5 (2008): 363-412. For a recent discussion on
the Maimonidean influence on the Neo-Kantianism of Hermann Cohen, see Elliot R.
Wolfson, Giving Beyond the Gift:
Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2014), 14-33.
[31]  On Abraham
Abulafia, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Abraham
Abulafia—Kabbalist and Prophet: Hermeneutics, Theosophy, and Theurgy
(Los
Angeles: Cherub Press. 2000).
[32] See Pinchas Giller, “Elliot Wolfson and the Study of
Kabbalah in the Wake of Scholem,” Religious
Studies Review
25:1 (January 1999): 23-28.
[33] For an extensive treatment of humility in Jewish
thought, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Venturing
Beyond: Morality and Law in Kabbalistic Mysticism
(New York: Oxford
University Press, 2006), 286-316. See also the brief letter by Rav Aryeh
Kaplan, “The Humility of God,” The Jewish
Press
(27 January 1967): 45, called to my attention by Menachem Butler.
Regarding modesty as the prerequisite for truly engaging
Jewish mystical texts, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “From Sealed Book to Open Text:
Time, Memory, and Narrativity in Kabbalistic Hermeneutics,” in Steven Kepnes,
ed., Interpreting Judaism in a Postmodern
Age
(New York University Press, 1995), 145-178; and Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Secrecy, Modesty, and the Feminine: Kabbalistic Traces in the Thought of
Levinas,” in Kevin Hart and Michael
A. Signer, eds., The Exorbitant: Emmanuel
Levinas Between Jews and Christians
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2010), 52-73.
[34] On the usage of poetic-chiasmus in Wolfson’s work, a
motif that can be found countless times throughout his oeuvre, see Aaron W. Hughes, “Elliot R. Wolfson: An Intellectual
Portrait,” in Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking
(Leiden: Brill, 2015), 1-33.
[35] See the prologue “Timeswerve/Hermeneutic
Reversibility,” in Elliot R. Wolfson, Language,
Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York:
Fordham University Press, 2005), xv-xxxi, where he combats the claim of
anachronism through an in-depth depiction of hermeneutical temporality; Elliot
R. Wolfson, Wolfson, Alef, Mem, Tau:
Kabbalistic Musings on Time, Truth and Death
(Berkeley: University of
California Press, 2006), 1-55. For a similar approach to this issue, see Elliot
R. Wolfson, “Structure, Innovation, and Diremptive Temporality: The Use of
Models to Study Continuity and Discontinuity in Kabbalistic Tradition,” Journal for the Study of Religions and
Ideologies
6:18 (2007): 143-167. See the comments of Sergey Dolgopolski, The Open Past: Subjectivity and Remembering
in the Talmud
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2013), 342fn6.
[36] On Reb Zadok ha-Kohen of Lublin, see the various
scholarly studies by Professor Yaakov Elman, which are all noted in Dovid
Bashevkin, “In Your Anger, Please Mercifully Publish My Work: An Honest Account
of a Contemporary Jewish Publishing Odyssey” the Seforim blog (26 June 2015), available here, and earlier in Dovid Bashevkin, “Perpetual Prophecy: An
Intellectual Tribute to Reb Zadok ha-Kohen of Lublin on his 110th Yahrzeit,”
(with an appendix entitled: “The World as a Book: Religious Polemic, Hasidei
Ashkenaz, and the Thought of Reb Zadok,”), the
Seforim blog
(18 August 2010), available here.
[37] See Tzidkat ha-Tzadik, no. 70.
[38] Regarding Wolfson’s usage of Rosenzweigian sprachdenken, see Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Introduction,” to Franz Rosenzweig, The
Star of Redemption
, trans. Barbara E. Galli (Wisconsin: University of
Wisconsin Press, 2005), xvii-xx. See as well, Elliot R. Wolfson, “Foreword,” to
Yudit Kornberg Greenberg, Better Than
Wine: Love, Poetry, and Prayer in the Thought of Franz Rosenzweig
(Atlanta:
Scholars Press, 1996),  xi-xii.
For an extensive treatment on Rosenzweig’s thought, see
Elliot R. Wolfson, Giving Beyond the
Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University
Press, 2014), 34-89. For an earlier approach see, Elliot R. Wolfson, “Facing
the Effaced: Mystical Eschatology and the Idealistic Orientation in the Thought
of Franz Rosenzweig,” Zeitschrift für
Neure Theologiegeschichte
4 (1997): 39-81. See, as well, Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Light Does Not Talk but Shines: Apophasis and Vision in Rosenzweig’s
Theopoetic Temporality,” in Aaron W. Hughes and Elliot R. Wolfson, eds., New Directions in Jewish Philosophy
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2009), 87-148.
[39] Regarding the central role translation as a hermeneutic
form of interpretation, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2005), 1-45. For an earlier approach, see
Elliot R. Wolfson, “Lying on the Path: Translation and the Transport of Sacred
Texts,” AJS Perspectives 3 (2001):
8-13. For the influence of Hans Georg-Gademer’s interpretation theory on
Wolfson’s thought, see, Elliot R. Wolfson, Pathwings:
Philosophic and Poetic Reflections on the Hermeneutics of Time and Language
(Barrytown,
NY: Barrytown/Station Hill Press, 2004), 227-233.
[40] Regarding Heidegger’s Nazism, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being: Kabbalistic
Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2005), 420fn241 and for a recent approach to the publications of Heidegger’s
infamous “Black Notebooks,” see the interview with Elliot R. Wolfson by Aubrey
Glazer, “What does Heidegger’s Anti-Semitism mean for Jewish Philosophy?” Religion Dispatches (3 April 2014),
online here. For a similar approach deeply influenced by Wolfson’s
thought, see Michael Fagenblat, “The Thing that Scares Me Most: Heidegger’s
anti-Semitism and the Return to Zion,” Journal
for Cultural and Religious Theory
14:1 (Fall 2014), 8-24. For an earlier
attempt to reconcile Heidegger’s thought with Jewish thought, see, Marlène Zarader, The Unthought Debt: Heidegger and the Hebraic Heritage (Stanford:
Stanford University Press, 2006) and Jean-Francois Lyotard, Heidegger and ‘the Jews’, trans. Andreas
Michel and Mark Roberts (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1990).
Regarding Wolfson’s engagement with Heidegger, see Aaron W.
Hughes, “Elliot R. Wolfson: An Intellectual Portrait,” in Hava Tirosh Samuelson
and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson:
Poetic Thinking
(Leiden: Brill, 2015), 1-33. See also the
multi-page-footnote in Elliot R. Wolfson, “Eternal Duration and Temporal
Compresence: The Influence of Habad on Joseph B. Soloveitchik,” in Michael Zank
and Ingrid Anderson, eds., The Value of
the Particular: Lessons from Judaism and the Modern Jewish Experience –
Festschrift for Steven T. Katz on the Occasion of his Seventieth Birthday
(Leiden:
Brill, 2015), 208-212fn37.
It would be difficult to speak of all the places in which
Wolfson engages Heidegger’s thought, however see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Not Yet
Now: Speaking of the End and the End of Speaking,” in Hava Tirosh Samuelson and
Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson:
Poetic Thinking
(Leiden: Brill, 2015), 127-193; and Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Undoing the (K)not of Apophaticism: A Heideggerian Afterthought,” in Giving Beyond the Gift: Apophasis and
Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2014), 227-260.
The specific impact Heidegger’s thought has had on Wolfson will be discussed in
a future essay.
[41] Elliot R. Wolfson, “Achronic Time, Messianic
Expectation, and the Secret of the Leap in Ḥabad,” in  Jonatan Meir and Gadi Sagiv, eds., Habad Hasidisim: History, Theology and Image
(Jerusalem: Merkaz Zalman Shazar, forthcoming in 2016), 27fn28.
[42] On Heidegger’s impact on Jewish thinkers, see Richard
Wolin, Heidegger’s Children: Hannah
Arendt, Karl Löwith, Hans Jonas, and Herbert Marcuse
(Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 2003).
[43] See Elliot R. Wolfson, Giving Beyond the Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2014), 90-154; Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream:
Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New York: Zone Books, 2011),
32-38, 297-302fn59-74; and Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of
Menahem Mendel Schneerson
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2009),
251-252.
For an earlier approach to the influence of Jewish mysticism
on the thought of Emmanuel Levinas, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Secrecy, Modesty,
and the Feminine: Kabbalistic Traces in the Thought of Levinas,” in Kevin Hart
and Michael A. Signer, eds., The
Exorbitant: Emmanuel Levinas Between Jews and Christians
(New York: Fordham
University Press, 2010), 52-73. See also Elliot R. Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being: Kabbalistic
Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2005), 432fn362. The specific impact that Levinas’s thought has had on
Wolfson’s will be discussed in a future essay.
[44] On Derrida’s Jewishness and the Jewishness of Derrida,
see John D. Caputo, The Prayers and Tears
of Jacques Derrida
(Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1997), 230-263;
see Bettina Bergo, Joseph Cohen, and Raphael Zagury-Orly, eds., Judeities: Questions for Jacques Derrida
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2007); Gideon Ofrat, The Jewish Derrida, trans. Peretz Kidron (Syracuse: Syracuse
University Press, 2001); Geoffrey Bennington and Jacques Derrida, Jacques Derrida (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1993), 292-297. For Derrida’s own treatment of the Jewishness of
his thought, see Jacques Derrida, Archive
Fever: A Freudian Impression
, trans. Eric Prenowitz (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1996); and Geoffrey Bennington and Jacques Derrida, Jacques Derrida (Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 1993).
[45] Wolfson utilizes the Derridian notion of
inclusion-through-exclusion to describe his relationship with the organized
aspect of Jewish religion. While this dialectic of presence/absence demands a
more significant treatment, see Wolfson’s autobiographical comments in Elliot
R. Wolfson by Aubrey Glazer, “What does Heidegger’s Anti-Semitism mean for
Jewish Philosophy?” Religion Dispatches (3
April 2014), online here; and Interview With Elliot R. Wolfson, July 25, 2012, in
Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking (Leiden: Brill, 2015). For an
exhaustive treatment of antinomianism and hypernomianism as it relates to the
Jewish mystical tradition see, Elliot R. Wolfson, Venturing Beyond: Morality and Law in Kabbalistic Mysticism (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2006).
[46] On Derrida, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Giving Beyond the Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2014), 155-200. For an earlier approach on the
influence of kabbalah on Derrida’s thought, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Assaulting
the Border: Kabbalistic Traces in the Margins of Derrida,” Journal of the American Academy of Religion 70:3 (September 2002):
475-514. For an analysis of Derrida’s famous phrase, “there is nothing outside
of the text,” see Elliot R. Wolfson, “From Sealed Book to Open Text: Time,
Memory, and Narrativity in Kabbalistic Hermeneutics,” in Steven Kepnes, ed., Interpreting Judaism in a Postmodern Age
(New York University Press, 1995), 145-178.
[47] In private discussion with the author.
[48] Regarding the role of gender in Jewish mysticism, see
Elliot R. Wolfson, Circle in the Square:
Studies in the Use of Gender in Kabbalistic Symbolism
(Albany: State
University of New York Press, 1995). Aside from the essays compiled in this
volume, Wolfson has continued to devote much time and effort to this aspect of
his scholarship, see for example, Elliot R. Wolfson,  “Woman—The Feminine As Other in Theosophic
Kabbalah: Some Philosophical Observations on the Divine Androgyne,” in Lawrence
J. Silberstein and Robert L. Cohn, eds.,
The Other in Jewish Thought and
History: Constructions of Jewish Culture and Identity
(New York: New York
University Press, 1994), 166-204; Elliot R. Wolfson, “Crossing Gender
Boundaries in Kabbalistic Ritual and Myth,” in Mortimer Ostow, Ultimate Intimacy: The Psychodynamics of
Jewish Mysticism
(London: Karnac Books, 1995), 255-337; and Elliot R.
Wolfson, “Occultation of the Feminine and the Body of Secrecy in Medieval
Kabbalah,” in Elliot R. Wolfson, ed., Rending
the Veil: Concealment and Revelation of Secrets in the History of Religions
(New
York and London: Seven Bridges Press, 1999), 113-154. Many more sources could
be cited.
[49] Wolfson has responded to the various critics of his
stance in numerous places within his scholarship. See for example, Elliot R.
Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a
Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New York: Zone Books,
2011), 439fn65; Elliot R. Wolfson, Luminal
Darkness: Imaginal Gleanings from Zoharic Literature
(Oxford: Oneworld,
2007), 254fn26; Elliot R. Wolfson, Language,
Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York:
Fordham University Press, 2005), 136, 486fn191; Elliot R. Wolfson, Pathwings: Philosophic and Poetic
Reflections on the Hermeneutics of Time and Language
(Barrytown, NY:
Barrytown/Station Hill Press, 2004), 248fn53; and most recently in Elliot R.
Wolfson, “Patriarchy and the Motherhood of God in Zoharic Kabbalah and Meister
Eckhart,” in Ra’anan S. Boustan, et al., eds., Envisioning Judaism: Studies in Honor of Peter Schäfer on the Occasion
of his Seventieth Birthday
, vol. 2 (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 2013),
1049-1088, esp. 1058-1059fn30.
[50] See for example, Arthur Green, “Kabbalistic Re-Vision:
A Review Article of Elliot Wolfson’s Through
a Speculum That Shines
,” History of
Religions
36:3 (February 1997): 265-274; Melila Hellner-Eshed, A River Flows from Eden: The Language of
Mystical Experience in the Zohar
(Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press,
2009), 347-356.
[51] See Elliot R. Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2005), 1-45.
[52]  See Elliot R.
Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic
Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel Schneerson
(New
York: Columbia University Press, 2009), 200-223; for the most recent
explication of Wolfson’s stance on this issue, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Phallic
Jewissance and the Pleasure of No Pleasure” (forthcoming in 2015). It is
important to note that this is a rudimentary treatment of one of the more
complex areas in Wolfson’s thought. The potential capacity of undoing the gender-valence
inherent within the mystical tradition has yet to be fully unfolded. This will
be addressed in a future essay.
[53] Interview with David Novak, in Hava Tirosh Samuelson
and Aaron W. Hughes, David Novak: Natural
Law and Revealed Torah
(Leiden: Brill, 2013), 118-119.
[54] On the significance of walking/wandering in Jewish
mystical thought, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Walking as a Sacred Duty: Theological
Transformation of Social Reality in Early Hasidism,” in Ada Rapoport-Albert,
ed., Hasidism Reappraised (London:
Littman Library, 1997), 180-207.
[55]  Elliot R.
Wolfson, Luminal Darkness: Imaginal
Gleanings from Zoharic Literature
(Oxford: Oneworld, 2007), xvi. For an
extended treatment of this theme, see Elliot R. Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination (New
York: Fordham University Press, 2005), 46-111. See also Elliot R. Wolfson,
“Ontology, Alterity, and Ethics in Kabbalistic Anthropology,” Exemplaria 12:1 (January 2000): 129-155.
[56] Wolfson has consistently avoided engaging current
sociopolitical issues in his scholarship. This stems from a focus on the
subterranean themes of the dynamic as opposed to the symptomatic expression of
current events.
[57] See Elliot R. Wolfson, “Not Yet Now: Speaking of the End
and the End of Speaking,” in Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking (Leiden:
Brill, 2015), 182.
[58] Elliot R. Wolfson, “Nequddat
ha-Reshimu-
The Trace of Transcendence and Transcendence of the Trace: The
Paradox of Simsum in the RaShaB’s Hemshekh Ayin Beit,” Kabbalah 30 (2013): 92, and for an
in-depth analysis of this (non)logic, see 92-98.
It is possible to say that this form of logic that is not
one, the middle excluded by the formal laws of logic, rests at the center of
Wolfson’s thinking. This logic inherent to Wolfson’s treatment of Jewish
Mysticism – in which the identity of opposites is affirmed by the opposite of
identity- is inspired in part by the logic of the Middle Path, or ‘the logic of
not’ expressed in the Mahayana Buddhist tradition. See Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret: Postmessianic Messianism and
the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel Schneerson
(New York: Columbia
University Press, 2009), 109-114, 247-250; Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream:
Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New York: Zone Books, 2011),
179-219; Elliot R. Wolfson, Wolfson, Alef,
Mem, Tau: Kabbalistic Musings on Time, Truth and Death
(Berkeley:
University of California Press, 2006), 158-170; Elliot R. Wolfson, Venturing Beyond: Morality and Law in
Kabbalistic Mysticism
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 170-176,
232-247.
[59] Elliot R. Wolfson, Giving
Beyond the Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham
University Press, 2014), xxiii.
[60]  Wolfson expands
on this notion in a lecture at the historic Rothko Chapel in Houston, “The Path
Beyond the Path: Mysticism and the Spiritual Quest for Universal Singularity,”
delivered on 7 April 2011), available online here.
See as well, Elliot R. Wolfson, Language,
Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York:
Fordham University Press, 2005), 288-289.
[61]  See Elliot R.
Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being:
Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham
University Press, 2005), 233-234.
[62]  The usage of the
word ‘feverish’ is inspired by the Derridian notion of fever as unending memory
of the immemorial futurity; see Jacques Derrida, Archive Fever: A Freudian Impression, trans. Eric Prenowitz
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996).
[63]  The topic of
Nothingness is found too frequently throughout Wolfson’s scholarship to source
exhaustively; for example, see Elliot R. Wolfson, “Nihilating Nonground and the
Temporal Sway of Becoming: kabbalisticly envisioning nothing beyond nothing,” Angelaki 17:3 (2012): 31-45; Elliot R.
Wolfson, “Negative Theology and Positive Assertion in the Early Kabbalah,” Da’at 32-33 (1994): V-XXII (English);
Elliot R. Wolfson, Open Secret:
Postmessianic Messianism and the Mystical Revision of Menahem Mendel Schneerson
(New York: Columbia University Press, 2009), 75-82, 113-115; Elliot R.
Wolfson, Giving Beyond the Gift:
Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University Press,
2014), 75-87; Elliot R. Wolfson, Language,
Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York:
Fordham University Press, 2005), 173-186; Elliot R. Wolfson, Venturing Beyond: Morality and Law in
Kabbalistic Mysticism
(New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 212-215;
Elliot R. Wolfson, Wolfson, Alef, Mem,
Tau: Kabbalistic Musings on Time, Truth and Death
(Berkeley: University of
California Press, 2006), 36-39, 167-168, 234fn12; and Elliot R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a Dream:
Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New York: Zone Books, 2011),
229-239.
[64]  See Elliot R.
Wolfson, “Nihilating Nonground and the Temporal Sway of Becoming: kabbalisticly
envisioning nothing beyond nothing,” Angelaki
17:3 (2012): 31-45.
[65]
To condense Wolfson’s thought on language into a paragraph, or even a
footnote is as impossible as it is improper. Few thinkers have engaged in the
linguistic path of (un)showing the limit of language while simultaneously
utilizing language in its own disavowal, as Wolfson has. Speaking from within
and beyond the philosophers of language, including but not limited to
Heidegger, Wittgenstein, Derrida, Levinas, Blanchot, Celan, Buber, Foucault,
Jabes, Kristeva, and Lacan; Wolfson has uncovered new, impossible vistas in
which the hermeneutics of language may be thought anew. To attempt a listing of
Wolfson’s thought on language would be to miss the liminal nature of what can
properly be called “Wolfsonian Language.” For an introduction, see Elliot R.
Wolfson, Language, Eros, Being:
Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York: Fordham
University Press, 2005), 1-44.
[66]  The primacy of
imagination in Wolfson’s scholarship has already been noted in Aaron W. Hughes,
“Elliot R. Wolfson: An Intellectual Portrait,”
in Hava Tirosh Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes, eds., Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 1-33. See
as well Jeffrey J. Kripal, “The Mystical Mirror of Hermeneutics: Gazing into
Elliot Wolfson’s Speculum,” in Roads of Excess, Palaces of Wisdom:
Eroticism and Reflexivity in the Study of Mysticism
(Chicago: University of
Chicago Press, 2001), 258-298. This is testified by the fact that nearly all of
Wolfson’s published books contain some reference to the imaginative faculty.
For example, Elliot R. Wolfson, Language,
Eros, Being: Kabbalistic Hermeneutics and Poetic Imagination
(New York:
Fordham University Press, 2005); Elliot R. Wolfson, Luminal Darkness: Imaginal Gleanings from Zoharic Literature (Oxford:
Oneworld, 2007); Elliot R. Wolfson, A
Dream Interpreted Within a Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New
York: Zone Books, 2011). For an overview of Wolfson’s thoughts on imagination,
see Elliot R. Wolfson, Giving Beyond the
Gift: Apophasis and Overcoming Theomania
(New York: Fordham University
Press, 2014), 1-14. The primary treatment of imagination can be found in Elliot
R. Wolfson, A Dream Interpreted Within a
Dream: Oneiropoiesis and the Prism of Imagination
(New York: Zone Books,
2011).
[67] Elliot R. Wolfson has published two poetry collections
thus far. Elliot R. Wolfson, Pathwings:
Philosophic and Poetic Reflections on the Hermeneutics of Time and Language
(Barrytown,
NY: Barrytown/Station Hill Press, 2004), and Elliot R. Wolfson, Footdreams & Treetales: Ninety-Two Poems
(New York: Fordham University Press, 2007). Wolfson’s third collection of
poetry, On One Foot Dancing, can be
found online here. For an in-depth analysis of Wolfson’s poetics, see
Barbara Ellen Galli, On the Wings of
Moonlight: Elliot R. Wolfson’s Poetry in the Path of Rosenzweig and Celan
(Montreal:
McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2007). For the sake of space, a discussion on
Wolfson’s poetry will be treated in a future essay.

 

[68] For an in-depth treatment of Wolfson’s aesthetics seen
through his scholarship, and vice versa, see, Marcia Brennan, Flowering Light: Kabbalistic Mysticism and
the Art of Elliot R. Wolfson
(Houston: Rice University Press, 2009). A
selection of Wolfson’s art are online here, which is prefaced with: “elliot wolfson has long been
preoccupied with the insights of jewish mystical traditions that approach an
imageless god through the mediation of an intensely visual symbolic imaginary.
his painted canvases communicate a corresponding sense that vision hovers ever
on the borders of appearing and disappearing, disclosure and hiddenness. as the
imagination seeks to give form to what remains nonetheless formless, the
quintessentially human endeavor of hermeneutics is already caught up in the
transcending eros of a divine creativity.”



Towards Decoding Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (The Great Parchment), A Cryptic 14th Century Italian Kabbalistic Text

Towards Decoding Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (The Great Parchment), A Cryptic 14th Century Italian Kabbalistic Text

By Ezra Brand

Ezra Brand is an independent researcher based in NYC. He has an MA from Revel Graduate School at Yeshiva University in Medieval Jewish History. His main research focus is currently 13th and 14th century sefirotic Kabbalah, and he is interested in using digital and computational tools in historical research. His previous contributions to the Seforim Blog can be found here, and a selection of his academic research can be found here. He can be reached at ezrabrand-at-gmail.com; any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.[1]

Sefirotic Kabbalah has its origins in thirteenth century Provence and Spain. It reached its apotheosis in the Zohar, which began to appear in Castile in the late thirteenth century. Kabbalistic literature started appearing in Italy soon after. Moshe Idel, in his masterly survey of kabbalah in medieval Italy, shows how “Rome was a place where Catalan Jewish culture, philosophical and kabbalistic, were already well established in the 1280s.”[2] And further: “Thus, in one decade, approximately 1280-1290, the Jewish culture in Rome was enriched by the arrival of a variety of Jewish esoteric material: theosophical and ecstatic Kabbalah, as well as Ashkenazi esoteric material.”[3] Idel raises the possibility that “a massive importation of kabbalistic literature took place in Italy at the very end of the thirteenth century.”[4] Idel make programmatic statement that “a pluralistic vision of the history of Kabbalah, which entails deemphasizing the centrality of Spain in the history of Kabbalah, will help to distinguish more precisely the specific contributions of Kabbalah in Italy.”[5]

Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (from here on: YG) is a fascinating, enigmatic work, which provides a window into this first flourishing of Italian Kabbalah. According to Giulio Busi, the academic scholar who first published YG from manuscript in 2004, “Ha-Yeri‘ah ha-Gedolah was probably written at the beginning of the 14th century by an author whose name remains unknown to us. Most likely, he was an Italian kabbalist, since all the preserved manuscripts have been copied by scribes working on the Italian peninsula.”[6]

The first modern academic scholar to mention YG was Gershom Scholem in his 1937 list of commentaries on the Ten Sefirot. Scholem also mentioned the line-by-line commentary on YG written by the fourteenth-century Italian kabbalist Reuven Tzarfati.[7] Scholem’s student Efraim Gottlieb, in a pioneering study on Tzarfati, discusses YG briefly.[8]

In 2004, Giulio Busi, with Simonetta M. Bondoni and Saverio Campanini, published YG for the first time, based on the extant manuscripts.[9] It comes out to 71 pages, with at most around 13 lines on a page.[10] Busi gives an introduction summarizing previous research and presenting his own research on this work, and an overview of the extant manuscripts of YG and Tzarfati’s commentary. (Busi’s introduction is available online.)

Like the thirteenth-century Zoharic literature[11] and related kabbalistic works, YG interprets biblical stories and topics in terms of the interplay between the sefirot. Busi describes it as a “forgotten masterpiece of kabbalistic literature,[12] and as “one of the most obscure texts of the whole kabbalah”.[13]

Even after its appearance in print, YG does not appear to have evinced very much interest, either among academic scholars or among enthusiasts of Kabbalistic literature. I am not aware of any further scholarship on this work. In a previous paper of mine, I gave an overview of some aspects of YG. Here, I’d like to revisit this enigmatic work, provide some suggestions for a way forward in decoding it, and hopefully spur further interest and research.[14]

YG is set up as work made up of sixteen “Sections” (sippurim).[15] Busi describes YG as “a booklet of a few extremely dense and symbolic pages.”[16] He further writes: “There is no doubt, however, that the Great Parchment is one of the most obscure texts of the whole kabbalah.”[17] Busi in his introduction gives an overview of each story based on Tzarfati’s commentary, prefacing: “Obviously, there is no guarantee that Sarfatti’s exegesis always reflects the thought of the unknown author of the work. Nevertheless, the detailed analysis of this early commentator represents the only starting point we possess with which to explore this still unknown chapter of late medieval kabbalah.”

I would claim that Busi overstates the obscurity of this work. I would like to point out a few aspects of YG that would aid in making progress in decoding this fascinating work.

Indexing Sefirotic Correspondences

Busi writes: “Apparently rebelling against the laws of meaning, [YG] is striking for its capacity to evoke waves of esoteric implications without ever mentioning directly the kabbalistic secrets.”[18] And further: “The key is offered by a scheme of correspondences that the author never enunciates openly but the reader must be aware of”.[19]

Again, I believe that this is somewhat overstated. Admittedly, the overarching narrative of the sections is often unclear.  The work is dense with biblical and Talmudic quotations and allusions, and written in a kind of associative, stream-of-consciousness style, making the overall narrative difficult to untangle. There are often what appear to be throwaway lines that don’t seem to be relevant in context. As I mention below, it may be that the author was simply writing with stream-of-consciousness, and never intended every line to have a deeper meaning. In any case, YG is by no means the only esoteric work to have been composed in a purposefully enigmatic style.

With all this in mind, the fact is that throughout the work, YG explicitly mentions sefirotic correspondences. Unlike the Zoharic literature, YG is replete with explicit usage of the standard terms for the ten sefirot. The Temple is a clear theme throughout (see below), and YG explicitly indexes the one-to-one correspondences between ten items in the Temple and the ten sefirot, using the sefirot’s standard names.[20] Another explication of symbols can be found in YG’s discussion of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Chariot, where the correspondence of the Four Faces with specific angels, cardinal directions, and sefirot are given, again using the sefirot’s standard names.[21]

Certain terms are used consistently for Evil (or closeness to Evil) throughout, such as Sha’atnez, Woman, Snake, Calf, Donkey, Limping Thigh, Mixture.[22] Specific terms recur with presumably consistent sefirotic equivalences, such as Ruth and Upper Pool.[23]

Even if YG never explicitly defines the meaning of a symbol, comparison with other thirteenth- and fourteenth-century works should allow for fairly certain elucidation.[24]

Close Commentary of Biblical Texts or Specific Topics

In many sections, YG very closely hews to biblical texts, quoting the biblical words and performing an extremely close interpretation, sometimes phrase-by-phrase, or even word-by-word. Busi’s edition does a tremendous service by italicizing the biblical quotes, but many quotes fall through the cracks and are not italicized. YG is often written in a way that only a single word is added to biblical text, or a biblical word is paraphrased, the order of words is switched, words are skipped words, or a pastiche between two biblical verses is made. These techniques presumably impart meaning. Closely separating the biblical quotes from YG’s additions or paraphrase helps clarify what exactly YG is attempting to convey.

Even when YG is not closely interpreting a biblical text line-by-line, the topic is often still clearly defined.

By comparing how other thirteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalistic works interpret these biblical stories and topics, it is likely that much light would be shed on the discourses of YG.

Please see the appendix of this article for a chart comparing YG’s Sections with corresponding biblical stories or topics.

Word Associations

A striking aspect of YG is the continuous flow of writing, using word associations and wordplay. This is true both in terms of how it interprets biblical verses, as well as how it segues into new topics seemingly based on linguistic similarities alone. This interest in wordplay likely ties in to the ideas of “Linguistic Kabbalah,” which were influenced by Abraham Abulafia.[25] As mentioned earlier, YG was most likely written by an Italian kabbalist at the beginning of the fourteenth century, a time when Abulafia’s influence was strongly felt.

Some particularly notable examples of this can be found in Section 7, which is devoted to Jacob/Tiferet. I’ll adduce one example from there, a riff on the word “Tiferet” (my underlines, italics of biblical verses and biblical citations in Busi’s original, with small changes in punctuation where it seems appropriate):[26]

ועל כן לא יאכלו בני ישראל את גיד הנשה [בראשית לב לג]. לא יכרתו החוט הבא עליהם בשפע אמיתי, הנשה שלא ישכחו התורה, הה״ד ישראל לא תנשני [ישעיה מד כא]. והחוט הוא הוא״ו הנאצלת על תפארת הה״ד <ישראל> אשר בך אתפאר [ישעיה מט ג] ולקדוש ישראל כי פארך [ישעיה ס ט] זה ואלהי יעקב.[27] אפריון עשה לו המלך שלמה מעצי הלבנון [שיר השירים ג ט]. ובית תפארתי אפאר [ישעיה ס ז]. ועם כל זה לא תפאר אחריך [דברים כד כ] בעשרה היניקות היונקות ונאצלות מן הקו האמצעי קדוש ונורא [תהלים קיא ט]. כי תחלת העשרה הוא השם הגדול א׳[28]. על כן <לא> תסיר האצילות מהם. אם הם שפלים (אם) בעיניך, פאר הראש הם וגדולים, כי בן בג בג עומד על גבה. 

The overall message of this passage is fairly clear: First, the author closely interprets the verse in Genesis as saying that Jews should not block the flow (YG interprets “gid” to mean “chut”), and should not forget the Torah (interpreting the next word “hanashe” to mean “forgetting”, using the verse in Isaiah to show that “hanashe” can mean forgetting[29]).

The passage then clearly begins to riff on the root “Pe’er,” which is the root of the word Tiferet, the sefirah under discussion in this Section. YG brings quotes which use “Pe’er” in five different ways (התפאר, פאר, אפריון, תפארת, פיאר). The passage is saying not to “remove” the ten sefirot which emanate from Tiferet,[30] since the beginning of the ten sefirot are Keter. It may very well be that the individual verses do not add an additional mystical meaning, and the author is simply reveling in adducing additional verses with the same root.

Post-Biblical Sources

As mentioned, YG is dense not just with biblical quotes and allusions, but also with quotes of and allusions to Talmud, Midrash, and other medieval sources.[31]

YG mentions the messianic figures of Menachem ben Amiel and Nehemiah ben Hushiel,[32] who appear in early medieval works, such as the apocalyptic Sefer Zerubavel and Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer.

YG supports an idea with a quote that seems to be an adage that was popular among medieval Jewish authors:[33]

״הה״ד אשרי המדבר באוזן שומעת״

The first source that I could find for this adage is Ramban in his early work Milhamot Hashem, at the end of a long piece, where he lyrically writes that a certain opinion is correct:[34]

״והדברים מודיעים שכולם נכוחים למבין וישרים למוצאי דעת ואשרי המדבר לאוזן השומעת״

It therefore seems clear that YG’s ״באוזן״ should correctly be ״לאוזן״ as the Munich manuscript has it.[35] Soon after Ramban, this saying is used by Meiri and Sefer HaHinuch in a similar way: As an exhortation at the end of passage, and certainly not as a quote.[36]

Some Greek philosophical concepts are mentioned in YG, such as the Five Senses and the tripartite soul.[37]

A sampling of interesting scientific statements made by YG: “Water is good at all times and for all living creatures, which is not the case for other liquids”. [38] “The dove has no gallbladder.”[39]

While discussing YG’s sources and quotations, I can’t help but discuss a fascinating passage found in the discussion on the Sotah:[40]

״מה שאמרו ז״ל סוטה לא הייתה ולא נבראת, ר״ל במעשה מפורסם, ואם תאמר המעשה שמביאין שאשה אחת שתתה מי סוטה בחילוף אחותה ולא הזיקו לה ואחרי כן <באה> אצל אחותה ונקשה ומן הריח מיד <וצבתה> בטנה ונפלה ירכה [במדבר ה כז] כי היא הייתה טמאה, זה סיוע לדברינו, ורצו באומרם [זה המעשה][41] כי כל הדיעות[42] חוצבו ממקום אחד ואדם אחד ישיג השגת <העדן ואדם אחד ישיג השגת> גיהנם.״

YG starts off with a(n allegedly) rabbinic quote which makes the shocking statement that the Sotah ritual never actually happened. The quote is cryptically explained by YG to mean “במעשה המפורסם”, presumably meaning that in fact the Sotah ritual occurred, but that there was never a “famous” (or “publicly-known” or “well-known”) case.[43] YG then continues that if you may question this explanation on the basis of “a story which is brought” (״ואם תאמר המעשה שמביאין״). The story appears as described in more than one Midrashic source.[44] For convenience, I’ll quote the Midrash Tanhuma’s rendition with the online Sefaria translation:

“[There is] a story about two sisters who resembled each other. Now one was married in one city and the other was married in another city. The husband of one of them wanted to accuse her of infidelity and have her drink the bitter water in Jerusalem. She went to that city where her married sister was. Her sister said to her, “What was your reason for coming here?” She said to her, “My husband wants to have me drink [the bitter water].” Her sister said to her, “I will go in your place and drink it.” She said to her, “Go.” She put on her sister’s clothes, went in her place, drank the bitter water, and was found clean. When she returned to her sister’s house, she joyfully went out to meet her, then embraced and kissed her on the mouth. As soon as the one kissed the other, she smelled the bitter water and immediately died, in order to fulfill what is stated (in Eccl. 8:8), “No human has control over the wind to contain the wind, nor is there control on the day of death […].”

YG goes on to say that on the contrary, this story actually supports his explanation (״זה סיוע לדברינו״). It is likely that what YG means is that since in the story of the two sisters the actual death of the sister occurred in private, it was not a publicly-known case.[45]

YG next says the story of the two sisters can be understood allegorically to mean that all “knowledge” (or “evil”) comes from one place. In other words, the story of the Sotah water being passed from the innocent sister to the guilty sister should be understood allegorically. The Sotah water has inherent power, but the power that it has really depends on the person imbibing it. The innocent sister was unharmed by the Sotah water, but when it reached her unfaithful sister, it had an effect. In the same way, all knowledge starts off the same, but whether this knowledge is reified as good or evil depends on the person comprehending the knowledge.

I could not find any source for YG’s quote that “סוטה לא הייתה ולא נבראת”. YG prefaces the quote with ״ומה שאמרו ז״ל״, which generally means that it’s a quote from the Talmud or Midrash.  The Talmud Bavli in Sanhedrin 71a uses the formulation “לא היה ולא נברא” regarding the Wayward Son and City of Idol Worshippers (בן סורר ומורה ועיר הנידחת), but not about Sotah.

Ishay Rosen-Zvi made this very same claim from a critical historical perspective in his 2008 book (based on his doctoral dissertation), that the Sotah ritual never actually happened and was essentially a purely theoretical law.[46] Meir Bar-Ilan harshly criticized Rozen-Zvi’s thesis, in a review article called “Between False Reality and Fictional History”, available on his homepage here.[47] Bar-Ilan admits that there are instances where even the Talmudic rabbis said that a biblical story or a biblical ritual never actually occurred, but he believes that Sotah is not one of these cases. It would be interesting to discover additional traditional sources that state that the Sotah ritual (or “Sotah ordeal”, as Bar-Ilan believes is the more accurate appellation) never actually took place.

Let me point to another case of YG claiming that a story recounted in an authoritative text was not an actual historical event. This time, shockingly, it is regarding the Sacrifice of Isaac, where YG claims that this was a dream:[48]

“שעשה חסד לעקוד את יצחק בנו להיות זריז על מצות המלך שעקדת יצחק חלום היה ולא דבר אחר”.

 Marc Shapiro in his book Changing the Immutable cites other medieval sources (including possibly Maimonides) which also say that the Sacrifice of Isaac never happened, and shows how this idea was considered so problematic by a later printer of Moreh Nevuchim that it was censored out of the Ephodi commentary.[49]

In any case, the two parts of the statement would seem to contradict each other : If YG assumes that the Akedah was only a dream, then what was the great “kindness” (״חסד״) to offer up Isaac? It is very likely that this line in YG needs to be read sefirotically: Isaac is a common reference to Gevurah while Abraham is a reference to Hesed. The Akeda is being read as an amelioration of Gevurah by Hesed. If this is true, the meaning of this line in YG is as follows: Since the Akedah was a dream, and not a historical event, we cannot explain the story in a straightforward way, for example as illustrating Abraham’s submission to God’s will. Rather, it must be understood sefirotically, as illustrating the interplay of Gevuah and Hesed.[50]

Temple Vessels and Rituals

Many of the of biblical sections interpreted by YG, as well as topics discussed, relate to the Temple. As I mentioned earlier, YG clearly indexes the correspondences between items in the Temple and the sefirot.[51] A majority of the Sections begin with an item from the Temple. The Scapegoat, sent into the desert by the High Priest on Yom Kippur as part of the Yom Kippur Temple service, is a recurring symbol of evil in YG.[52] Most of Section 11 is an extended discussion of the Candelabrum, in turn interpreting the verses relating to the Candelabrum in Zachariah, Ezekiel, and the Pentateuch. The entireties of Sections 14 and 15 are devoted to verse-by-verse interpretations of the Bible verses on the Sotah and the Red Heifer, respectively. Both of these rituals were performed at, or at least near, the Temple.

Conclusion

YG is an early, fascinating, and cryptic work. I have attempted in this article to give an overview of some themes of the work, as well as some fascinating statements that I could not find elsewhere. I am hoping that someone will take upon themselves to publish Reuven Tzarfati’s commentary in some form, which should greatly further progress in understanding YG.[53]

Appendix

Breakdown by Section of Interpretation of Biblical Texts or Topics

Story # biblical verses topic page(s)
1 layout of Eden; creation of Adam and Eve; eating from Tree of Knowledge; curse on the Snake (Genesis 2: 9-14, 25; 3: 6)   119-121
  Golden Calf (Exodus 32:1)   121-122
  Staff of Moses   122
  Bala’am   122
  Phineas / Eliyahu   123-124
  Snake   124
2 Flood   125-128
  Moses in Egypt   128-129
  Flood (continued)   129-130
  Sacrifice of Isaac   130-131
3      
  Yom Kippur service   131
  Circumcision / Orla (Foreskin and Tree)   132-135
4 Hagar and Ishmael   135-138
5      
6   Foreplate 140
    Phylacteries 140-141
    Dove 141
    Foreplate (continuation) 141
7 Death of Jacob   142
    World-to-Come 142-143
  Jacob’s fight with angel   144
    Tiferet 144-145
    Even Shetiyya 145-146
  Korah   146
  Moses hitting the rock   146-148
8 Abraham and Covenant of the Pieces   148-151
    Ruth; Keter; Messiah 151-152
  Abraham and Covenant of the Pieces (continuation)   153-154
9   Netzach  
10   Gilgul and Levirate marriage 158-160
  Levirate marriage (Deuteronomy 25: 6-10)   158-159
  Song of Songs 4:3,8,11,15   158-161
  Ruth lies with Boaz (Ruth 3:8-14)   160-163
11 Zachariah lights menorah (Zachariah 3:4-5; 4:2-3, 14)   164-165
  Ezekiel and menorah (Ezekiel 40:5, 6, 9; 41:2)   166-167
  Menorah in tabernacle (Exodus 25:31-32)   167-168
  Ezekiel’s chariot (Ezekiel 1:10)   168-169
    Scapegoat 169-170
12   Manna 170-173
13   Prayer 173-174
    Sha’atnez prohibition 174-177
14 Sotah (Numbers 5)   177-181
15 Red Heifer (Numbers 19)   182-188

[1] I would like to thank Binyamin Goldstein and my father  for looking over a draft of this article and making very helpful comments and corrections.

[2] Moshe Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, 1280-1510: A Survey, pg. 99.

[3] Idel, pg. 102.

[4] Idel, pg. 111.

[5] Pg. 113.

[6] Pg. 23.

[7] For more on Tzarfati, see Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, pp. 148-150, and index.

[8] In Efraim Gottlieb, Studies in the Kabbala Literature (Hebrew), ed. J. Hacker (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1976).

[9] Busi’s book includes Flavius Mithridates’s Latin translation of YG, which Mithridates had prepared for the well-known fifteenth-century Italian Renaissance nobleman and philosopher Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. Busi also includes an English translation of the Latin.

[10] The actual text of YG is pp. 119-191.

[11] I use “Zoharic literature” to mean “The Zohar”, as is now common in academic scholarship.

[12] The Great Parchment. Flavius Mithridates’ Latin Translation, the Hebrew Text, and an English Version, Edited by Giulio Busi with Simonetta M. Bondoni and Saverio Campanini, Turin, Nino Aragno Editore, 2004, pp. 21, 28.

[13] Pg. 29.

[14] I still have not had a chance to study Tzarfati’s full commentary to YG. Busi says he has a transcription of it (pg. 29, footnote 19). Unfortunately I could not get access to this transcription. A few manuscripts of Tzarfati’s commentary are available through National Library of Israel’s Ketiv website. I read through a few pages of the commentary in Moscow RSL 134, which had the advantage of being available for download (the manuscript pages on Ketiv’s online reader load very slowly, and often buffer endlessly and don’t load at all).

I was excited to discover a new automated tool being developed for transcribing Hebrew manuscripts, which launched a few months ago, called Tikkoun Sofrim:  https://tikkoun-sofrim.firebaseapp.com/en. I read their documentation and contributed a few lines to each of the two manuscripts they have up, and I was quite impressed. I look forward to being able to use the tool to assist in transcribing additional manuscripts.

[15] Although YG is called in some manuscripts “Iggeret Sippurim”, “sippurim” in this context likely means “sections”, as pointed out by Gottlieb. This is because there are no “stories” per se being told. For this reason I use the term “Sections” for YG’s “sippurim”, contra Busi who uses the term “Tales” to describe the Sections. That YG doesn’t contain any literal tales is in contrast to the Zoharic literature, where kabbalistic and midrashic interpretations are generally framed within tales of R’ Shimon bar Yochai and his circle. For a recent comprehensive study of this important aspect of the Zohar, see Eitan Fishbane’s, The Art of Mystical Narrative: A Poetics of the Zohar, Oxford University Press, 2018.

[16] Pg. 21.

[17] Pg. 29.

[18] Pg. 28

[19] Pg. 29.

[20] Pg. 163, beginning of Section 11.

[21] Pg. 169. The correspondences there are not completely clear to me, as mixed in with the standard names for sefirot are other superlatives, and it’s not completely clear to me how to punctuate the text. The sefirot seem to be grouped there into four parts as follows: 1) Keter; 2) Tiferet, Chochma, Bina; 3) Shechina (=Malchut); Gedulah (=Chessed), Gevurah; Netzach; 4) Hod, Yesod.

As an aside, I want to point out another confusing detail in this passage :

״וצורת אדם גבריאל ד׳ אלפין מרוח ימה.״

It would appear that רוח ימה in this context actually means East, and not West as it typically does. This is for two reasons: First of all, on pg. 183 YG states explicitly that צורת אדם corresponds with East. In addition, it is clear that it is actually צורת שור that corresponds to West, as it says in the continuation of pg. 169, as well as on pg. 183.

[22] שעטנז, אשה (חוה), נחש, עגל (הזהב), חמור, ירך צולע, ערב.

[23] רות, בריכה עליונה.

[24] Eliyahu Peretz’s index of sefirot of selected thirteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalistic works is especially useful in this respect: E. Peretz, Ma’alot ha-Zohar, Jerusalem 1987. I would like to thank Dr. Daniel Matt for bringing this work to my attention.

[25] For more on this, see my previous article on YG, as well as my article “Joseph Gikatilla’s “Hasagot on the Moreh”: A Linguistic Kabbalist Reads Moreh Nevuchim”, which can be found here.

[26] Pg. 144. Another very interesting illustrative example can be found earlier in that page, where one of the words in the association is not explicit:

״ואשרי המחכה ויגיע [דניאל יב יב] לקץ הימין, בזמן שהם עושים רצון השלשלת העליונה, ולא לקץ השמאל, הצולעה שנשמט מירך יעקב, ולא מישראל כי שרה עם אלהים, שאמר <גרש> האמה <הזאת> ואת בנה [בראשית כא י]״.

It seems clear that the connection being made is due to the wordplay of the homonyms spelled שרה, in the two verses, which is explicitly quoted in the first verse (where it means “struggled”), and implicit in the second verse (where “Sarah” is the speaker). Incidentally, this is an example of the word “Limping” being used a symbol for Evil, “Limping” being a common symbol in YG for Evil.

[27] “Velohei Yaakov” seems to be a reference to a biblical phrase, which appears three times in the Bible. See Mithradates’ translation (pg. 216). It is unclear to me if Mithradates’ interpretation is correct.

[28] This letter most likely is a shortening of “Akatriel,” which is used throughout the work to mean Keter.

[29]  This may also be a play on “Yisrael” used in the verse in Isaiah, which can also mean Jacob.

[30] The idea of each sefirah having its own secondary emanation of ten sefirot emanating from it, is a theme of YG, as Busi mentions in his introduction.

[31] Busi’s edition does give those sources a handful of times, but mostly does not, even when a source is explicitly being quoted.

[32] Pg. 165.

[33] Pg. 133.

[34] Milhamot Hashem on Rif Shabbat 12a, last line.

[35] Apparatus fn. 184.

[36] Meiri in his commentary to Bavli Berahot 3b s.v. “לעולם” (last line); Sefer HaHinuch, Parshat Va’ethanan, Mitzvah  419, s.v. “ומה שאמרו”. In subsequent generations, the adage is almost exclusively formulated in a more biblical style, as ״אשרי המדבר על אוזן שומעת״, on the pattern of Proverbs 25:12. It is formulated this way already by Meiri in his Magen Avot, Topic 1, s.v. ״ואף בשאלתות״ (last line).

[37] Pg. 187. The manuscript on which the text is based only has two parts of the soul, but the apparatus in fn. 1025 says that the JTS manuscript has all three parts written.

[38] Pg. 187: ״המים טובים בכל זמן ולכל בעלי חיים, מה שאין כן בשאר משקים״.

[39] Pg. 141: ״ועל כן היונה אין לה מרה״. I also found this, using a search, in the Rashba (in his commentary on Bavli Hulin 42a s.v. “kol”) and in other medieval works.

[40] Pg. 180.

[41] This word is added in a MS, according to the apparatus.

[42] According to the apparatus, one MS has “הרעות” in place of “הדיעות”, which may be the more correct version, based on the context.

[43] See my footnote below for a discussion of this explanation and how to parse the whole passage of YG.

[44] This story appears in Midrash Tanhuma parshat Naso (on one of the Sotah verses – Numbers 5:12),  §10 in the Buber edition, and §6 in the regular version, and in Bamidbar Rabbah (on that same verse) 9:9. As an aside, the story is also referenced by Rashi in his commentary on Numbers 5:13.

[45] I would like to thank Binyamin Goldstein for clarifying this for me. Admittedly, the flow of the passage is confusing, with first stating the story as a question, and then suddenly saying that it’s in fact support.

[46] Rosen-Zvi, The Rite that Was Not: Temple, Midrash and Gender in Tractate Sotah, Jerusalem: Magnes, 2008 (Hebrew).

[47] Pp. 12-19. (See there pp.19-22 for an interesting discussion about the authenticity of Mishnaic descriptions of the Yom Kippur service in the Temple and the Red Heifer.) Bar-Ilan there in a footnote (fn. 42) points out that another scholar previously posited in her 1984 book that the Sotah ritual never happened and is totally theoretical.

I’d like to point out what appears to be a clear error made by Rozen-Zvi, not pointed out by Bar-Ilan (even though Bar-Ilan, pg. 13, quotes this passage in Rozen-Zvi verbatim). Rozen-Tzvi remarks, pg. 156, in reference to a story about a Sotah in the Mishnah in Eduyot 5:6 (parentheses and exclamation mark in the original):

״זוהי העדות היחידה (בכלל, לא רק בספרות חז״ל!) שנותרה על מאורע מסוים של השקיית סוטה בתקופת הבית.״

The Midrashic story quoted by YG is at least one instance of exactly such a textual witness. (As to whether the Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah and the Tanhuma are within the bounds of “Hazalic literature” is a separate discussion, but Rozen-Zvi explicitly adds there’s no such witness even outside of Hazalic/Talmudic literature.)

[48] Pg. 138.

[49] Shapiro, Changing the Immutable, pp. 67-73. I’d like to thank Marc Shapiro for telling me about this by email a few years ago, before Changing the Immutable was published.

[50] I would like to thank Marc Shapiro and Jonathan Dauber for their insightful comments on this passage, when I was writing my first paper on this topic.

[51] Pg. 163, beginning of Section # 11.

[52] See especially the lines at the end of Section #11 (pp. 169-170):

״ושעיר המשתלח הפך המנורה. שמים חשך לאור ואור לחשך [ישעיהו ה כ], הה״ד בפיו ובשפתיו כבדוני ולבו רחוק ממני ותהי יראתם אותי מצות אנשים מלומדה [ישעיהו כט יג]. ושעיר המשתלח היה מעור סמאל. והמשלח את השעיר [לעזאזל] יכבס בגדיו [ויקרא טז כו].״

It is possible that עור סמאל is a play on אור, mentioned earlier in the section quoted,  as עור being the opposite of אור is a common idea in Kabbalah. In general, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the relevant well-known comment of the Ramban in his commentary on the biblical verse of the Scapegoat, where he makes the surprising comment that sending the Scapegoat to the desert is intended as a way to appease the forces of evil.

[53] Reuven Tzarfati is an important Kabbalist in his own right, whose works deserve further study, according to Moshe Idel, one of the pre-eminent scholars of kabbalah. See Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, 1280-1510: A Survey, pp. 148.




Elul Sale Announcement: Twelve Seforim recommendations

Elul Sale Announcement: Twelve Seforim recommendations

By Eliezer Brodt

In this post I would like to highlight and briefly describe a select list of seforim, some of which are brand new and others are a few years old. Several seforim are mentioned here due to relation to this time of year [i.e. Elul and Tishrei related] and for various reasons did not receive proper notice.

The first title I would like to mention is:

שערי תפילה ומועד, אסופת מאמרים, תשפ”ד, 662 עמודים

I am very happy to announce the recent publication (and Sale) of an important work, titled Sharei Tefilah Umoed, which will be of great interest to readers of the Seforim Blog, by Professor Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, of Bar-Ilan University’s Talmud department. As I have written in the past:

Professor Spiegel is one of the most prolific writers in the Jewish academic scene, authoring of over 160 articles and 18 books (16 of those are publications for the first time of works which remained in manuscript). Many suspect that he knows the secrets of Hashba’at Hakulmos (automatic writing) (about which see here).

His articles cover an incredibly wide range of subjects related to many areas of Jewish Studies, including history of Rishonim, piyutim authored by Rishonim, bibliography and minhagim, to name but a few. His uniqueness lies not only in the range of topics but also that his work has appeared in all types of publications running the gamut from academic journals such as Kiryat Sefer, Tarbiz, Sidra, Alei Sefer, Assufot, Teudah, Kovetz Al Yad and also in many prominent Chareidi rabbinic journals such Yeshurun, Yerushaseinu, Chitzei Giborim, Moriah, Sinai and Or Yisroel. It is hard to define his area of expertise; he appears to be an expert in every area he writes about!

Worth noting that recently, thanks to the hard work of a dear friend of mine, all of his published articles are available for free download here.

He has edited and printed from manuscript many works of Rishonim and Achronim on Masseches Avos and the Haggadah Shel Pesach. He is of the opinion, contrary to that of some other academics, that there is nothing non-academic about printing critical editions of important manuscript texts. Although there is a known “belief” in the academic world, “publish or perish,” which at times some claim is the cause of weak articles and books, Spiegel’s prolific output does nothing to damper the quality of his works.

Another point unique to Speigel’s writings, besides his familiarity with all the academic sources, is the great familiarity he displays with all the classic sources from Chazal, Geonim, Rishonim and Achronim, to even the most recent discussions in Charedi literature – this bekius (breadth) was apparent well before the advent of search engines of Hebrew books and Otzar Ha-hochmah. Alongside all this is his penetrating analysis and ability to raise interesting points.

This new volume, Sharei Tefilah Umoed, is a collection of 39 chapters. Thirty chapters were published over the years in various Journals while nine chapters are published here for the first time. Many of the chapters in this volume follow this rubric: a manuscript on a specific, published for the first time, including an introduction devoted to the background of both author and subject. Many of these chapters are related to the month of Tishrei and are great starting points on the various upcoming topics. For those looking for new material specifically suited for this time of year, it’s timely availability for sale is a bonus.

Here are the Table of contents:

Number 2:

מאמר על הדרשות ועל האגדות, לרבינו אברהם בן הרמב”ם, מעתיקה השמועה, בירורים בתולדות חכמי התלמוד ועיונים בדרכי העתקת שמועותיהם, מהדיר: ר’ משה מיימון [מהדורה שנייה עם הוספות ותיקונים[, [תשפ”ד]

This is a second edition with corrections and additions R’ Maimon’s critical edition of R’ Avraham Ben HaRambam’s classic essay on Aggadah. The second part is a small work of Rabbi Moshe Maimon called Mateikeh shmuah, historical essays of great interest and includes notes by R’ Shaul Alter) See here for an Interview with R’ Maimon where we discuss this work.

Rabbenu Avraham’s essay is always relevant but is extra relevant at the moment as Daf Yomi has just finished learning the aggadic suggyot involving Rabbah Bar Bar Chana and will be learning more Aggadah shortly. For more on this and Aggadah in general see my recent presentation on All Daf (Here).

Sample pages are available.

Number’s 3- 6:

Some works by Rabbi Yaakov Stahl, related to the season:

Rabbi Stahl’s work is familiar to many of the blog’s readers; for reviews of some of his earlier works see here, here and here, and see a post of his here.

דרשות לימי התשובה מבית מדרשים של חסידי אשכנז, 11 + עד עמודים, מהדיר: ר’ יעקב סטל

This is a small work of Drashot by Chasidei Ashkenaz related to Teshuvah, published from manuscript and annotated by Rabbi Yakov Stahl.

תשובות רבינו אלעזר מוורמייזא הרוקח‘, ]תשע”ד[, 37+ רח עמודים , מהדיר: ר’ יעקב סטל

This is a Shir of the Rokeach on the topic of Teshuvah published from manuscript by Rabbi Yakov Stahl, which focuses on the different requirements to achieve Teshuvah for various sins. Much has been written about this unique Beis Medrash known as Chasedi Ashkenaz, especially their methods of Teshuvah. This volume will help one get a deeper understanding of their Shitah. The volume includes a useful introduction, numerous notes illuminating each passage with an incredible range of sources and concludes with some very interesting appendixes.

One can find some RH material on his academia page here (Some samples are this, this, this and this).

ריעקב ישראל סטל, נהגו ישראל, עיונים ובירורים בתולדות המנהג וההלכה, חג הסוכות, קכט עמודים + תמונות, ]תש”פ[

This six-chapter work relates to the Yom Tov of Sukkos with particular focus on Daled Minim issues. Here too, Rabbi Yaakov Stahl continues to amaze his readers with his ability to assimilate fascinating material from a wide range of sources. One unique aspect of this work is the over one hundred color illustrations from ancient art graphically illuminating for the reader the author’s proposals.

Sample pages are available.

גנזי חג הסוכות | אסופת גנזים מתורתם של ראשונים בענייני חג הסוכות היוצאים לאור לראשונה מכתבי-יד עם מבואות, ביאורים והערות, עיונים ומפתחות, מהדיר: ר‘ יעקב ישראל סטל, שע עמודים, תשע“ח

A few years back (2018) I mentioned Ginzei Chag HaSukkos. This volume is very similar in style to Kovetz Al Yad; it’s a collection of material by Rishonim, all related to Sukkos, the majority of which is printed here for the first time. Various literary genres are represented in this collection: Halacha, Minhag, Piyut, Philosophy and Kabbalah. Each section includes an introduction detailing its significance and the texts are fully annotated. There is also a twenty-five-page index to the work. Sample pages are available.

Number 7:

ר’ אורי טיגר, קומי אורי: דרך איש \ דרך הקודש [רמבם האיסורי ביאה] \ משפט עשה [בדיני איסור ההליכה לערכאות] \ הטבע הרוחני, [תשפ”ד], מח + קכט, לו, סו עמודים

This is collection of four small seforim by R’ Uri Tieger, published in one volume. R’ Tieger has become famous in recent years for the various videos that he released with him in conversation with R’ Chaim Kanievsky zt”l. R’ Tieger is a prolific author and in the past year has released a few new works, including a massive work on Rambam Hilchos Korbon Pesach. I will highlight just one of the works in this collection: Derech Ish. This work is devoted to putting together in a unique format the views & methods of the Chazon Ish on many topics. In addition, this work has numerous notes by R’ Chaim Kanievsky.

Sample pages are available.

Number 8:

כל כתבי רבינו מנשה בן מוהרר יוסף בן פורת מאיליא, מרואי ומקבלי תורת רבינו הגר”א מווילנא, כולל כל פרי רבינו בדפוס ובכתב יד, [תשפ”ד], מהדיר: ר’ דוד קמינצקי, תקעב עמודים

I can’t describe my excitement a few months ago when I received an email from the editor that this volume was published. This is the first time all of R’ Menashe MeIlyah’s material is available in one accessible volume. Sadly, some of his work has not survived. This volume, published by R’ Dovid Kamenetsky, one of the world’s leading experts on the Gra and Gra-related material presents all of R’ Menashe’s works, including material published from manuscript. R’ Dovid has spent much time over the years on this very unique Gaon publishing some of his manuscripts and writing articles about him in the journal Yeshurun. This is an extremely important, deep and unique volume from one of the people from the Gra’s Beis Medrash.

Number 9:

ר’ שמריה שמעריל ברנדריס, עיון תפילה,+24 רמג עמודים, תשפ”א

I became very fond of this work few years back after being introduced to it by two different friends while researching two different projects, the Gra and R’ Efrayim Zalman Margolis. This unknown godol was one of the only talmidim of R’ Efrayim Zalman Margolis. It’s a work on siddur and Halacha, full of many nice points. A few years ago, Machon Aleh Zayis asked me to suggest an obscure work worth republishing; I recommended this work. Their team did a great job of publishing an annotated version and I wrote an introduction attempting to explain and outline its significance. In Yeshurun volume 43 (2021) I revisited this and updated the piece with numerous additions [A PDF is available upon request]. This is a chapter of my work on R’ Efrayim Zalman Margolis, which I hope to publish one day IY”H.

Sample pages are available.

Number 10:

ר’ אריה ליב ליפקין, אור היום, [בירור הלכה בענין בין השמשות וצאת הכוכבים…] עם הערות ולוחות כוכבים לאור, מהדיר: ר’ משה ברוך קופמאן, 27 +רנז עמודים

This important but not well-known work by R’ Aryeh Leib Lipkin, originally published in 1901, is about the complex sugyah of Zemanim. R’ Aryeh Leib was a nephew of R Yisroel Salanter. R’ Dovid Kamenetsky wrote a thorough article about this Gaon in Yeshurun 23 (2010). In addition to his greatness in standard learning, he was also an expert in Astronomy and Kabbalah. This new edition was fully annotated by the noted expert on the subject, R’ Moshe Kaufman, in a beautifully produced volume. Also, see here for an interview of Nachi Weinstein of  Seforim Chatter with the author of the sefer.

Sample pages are available.

Number 11:

רשי השלם, במדבר חלק א, [פ’ במדבר-קרח], מכון אריאל, תשפ”ד, שצ עמודים

Much energy has been spent over the centuries locating Rashi’s sources and understanding his methods. One very valuable tool for understanding Rashi and his sources is a project that began almost forty years ago and slowly has been publishing volumes (to date they have published Eleven volumes). Recently they released part one of Chumash Bamidbar.

Number 12:

ר’ נריה גוטל, רשי צריך עיון – לדרכו של רשי בפירושו לתורה, תשפ”ג, 522 עמודים

One more recent volume related to Rashi is by the prolific R’ Gutel and is extremely useful for those seeking a greater understanding of Rashi on Chumash. R’ Gutel begins the work with a lengthy general introduction about Rashi on Chumash. For each chapter, R’ Gutel chooses one Rashi in the parsha and demonstrates clearly how the various Mefarshim through the ages attempted to deal with the challenges it presents. Through this lens he highlights and carefully analyzes the material, along the way giving one a glimpse into the greatness of Rashi’s work.

Sample pages are available.

Sample pages from each work are available

All Seforim reviewed here can be purchased through me, part of the proceeds helps the efforts of the Seforim Blog.

For more information about purchasing this work, feel free to contact me at Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com




god or God: A Review of Two Works on the Names of God

god or God: A Review of Two Works on the Names of God
Eliezer Brodt

Last week I picked up a new sefer titled Nekadesh es Shimcha. What caught my attention was that it included not only Nekadesh es Shimcha but also the work Meleches haKodesh from R. Eleazar Fleckeles (most well-known for his Teshuva m’Ahava). What follows is a short biography of R. Fleckes, a review of Meleches haKodesh, and a review of the new sefer – Nekadesh es Shimcha.

R. Eleazar Fleckeles was born in 1754 in Prague. He was a direct descendant of R. Shlomo Ephraim Luntschitz, author of the Keli Yakar, whom R. Fleckeles quotes many times throughout his writings. When R. Fleckeles was 14, he went to study with R. Ezekiel Landau and spent ten years studying there. R. Landau, as is evident from his haskamot to R. Fleckeles works, held R. Fleckeles in high regard. Additionally, many teshuvot in Noda b’Yehuda are penned to R. Fleckeles. In R. Fleckeles’s writings, he quotes many interesting statements from R. Landau [for one example see here]. When R. Fleckeles was twenty-four, he became the Rabbi of Kojetin, a town in Moravia. After four years, however, R. Fleckeles returned to Prague to sit on R. Landau’s Bet Din and serve as a head of a yeshiva.

R. Fleckeles authored many works, works covering halakha, derush, and a commentary on the Haggadah. R. Fleckeles was a skilled halakhist as is evident from his Teshuva m’Ahavah, but his fame also rests on his skills as a darshan. His derashot were published in a four volumes, Olat Chodesh. The fourth volume contains, R. Fleckeles series of derashot he gave against Shabbatai Tzvi and Jacob Frank (this section has a seperate title, Ahavat Dovid). One of themes which run throughout his derashot is an emphasis on learning Shas and Poskim and not Kabbalah. Recently, Professor Marc B. Shapiro printed an interesting correspondence between R. Fleckeles and Karl Fischer, a government censor, about Nittel Nacht, which first appeared as “Torah Study on Christmas Eve,” Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy 8 (1999): 350-55, and then as “A Letter of R. Eleazar Fleckeles Concerning Torah Study on Christmas Eve,” Ohr Yisrael 30 (2002): 165-168. This was not the only correspondence between the two, as a well-known teshuva appears in Teshuva m’Ahavah in response to Fischer’s question about Jew’s taking oaths. Teshuvah m’Ahavah, vol. 1, no. 26.]. In 1826, R. Fleckeles died after serving for 43 years on the Prague Bet Din.

Amongst R. Fleckeles lesser known seforim is the Meleches ha’Kodesh. The book differentiates between the names of Hashem, which are kodesh and which are chol, using the Bavli, Yerushalmi, Midrash, three Targumim, and all the various m’farshim on the Chumash. The reason the differentiation is important is that every time a sofer writes a kodesh name of Hashem, he needs to makes sure it is l’Shem Kedushas HaShem. If the sofer does not do so, the Sefer Torah is invalid. Although there are many instances it is obvious when the name is kodesh, there are many times it is unclear. Over time, there have arguments amongst the various poskim what to do in the ambiguous situations. R. Fleckeles collected all the prior opinions and provides his own conclusion for these questionable Shems.

R. Fleckes begins each of his discussions by quoting an earlier work on the topic Meir Netiv by R. Yehuda Piza [this first appeared in the Chumash R. Piza published in Amsterdam in 1767, Ezras HaSofer – R. Piza will be the subject a forthcoming post at the Seforim blog.] R. Fleckeles then provides additional sources not considered or quoted by R. Piza and then R. Fleckeles comes to his conclusion. In the process, R. Fleckeles demonstrates a tremendous breadth of knowledge in the works of Chazal, the Rishonim, and Achronim. What is extremely interesting about both of these works are the sources used to reach their conclusions. They use, amongst others, the Ibn Ezra, Abarbanel, and the Ralbag, these sources are not typically used to form a halachic conclusion. Even more noteworthy, are some of the sources R. Fleckeles uses, the Me’or Eynaim by R. Azariah di Rossi, as well as Mendelssohn’s Biur (pp. 4, 52, and 88). R. Fleckeles also quotes R. Shlomo Dubnow a few times (pp. 92, 115). What is particularly striking about the quotes from Mendelssohn, is that R. Fleckeles, like R. Landau [although R. Landau’s opinion is subject to some debate] was firmly against the Biur. (See Alexander Altman, Moses Mendelssohn, pp. 486-88; Moshe Samet, Chadash Assur Min haTorah, pp. 76-7; Meir Hildesheimer, “Moses Mendelssohn in Nineteenth Century Rabbinical Literature,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research (PAAJR) 55 (1988): 79-133, esp. p. 87 n. 23.)

The Meleches haKodesh is divided into two parts, the first, discussing the ambiguous verses, and the second, a through exposition of writing holy-names more generally. Throughout the book, while discussing the specific questions, he includes many of his own explanations of the pesukim. Additionally, he discusses many things of interest in halacha and aggadah not directly related to the main topic. Both of these factors make this an important work even for someone not involved in the topic of the usage of Hashem. [The second part is not reprinted in this new work.]

For instance, there is a discussion when did the author of Onkoles live. (pp. 4, 77). A discussion about the famous controversy of reciting Machnesei Rachamim. R. Fleckeles cites his teacher, R. Landau, that R. Landua when he said Neliah was careful not to pray to the angels. (p. 15). R. Fleckeles writes that tzadikim are greater than angels. (p. 42). Elsewhere he writes that even regular people are greater than angels. (pp. 104-5). At least twice he quotes Torah he thought of in his dreams. (pp. 14, 95). He records an interesting rule that wherever Chazal use “lamah” (למה) it is because they want to find out the reason for doing something that they do not know any reason for. This is in contrast to the usage of mipneh mah (מפני מה) which is used when there is a known reason but are not satisfied with that reason. (p. 110).

When it comes to the Zohar, R. Fleckeles uses interesting language. After quoting one statement from the Midrash of R. Shimon bar Yochi, he notes that there is a contradictory statement found in the Zohar, to which R. Fleckeles writes:

והיא נפלאת בעיני כפי המפורסם זה שלש מאות שנים חבור הספר הזוהר מהתנא האלקי רשב”י עליו השלום . . . יאמר נא יראי ה’ אם זה הספר תולדות אדם גדול וקודש רשב”י הוא הוי ליה על פנים להזכיר דעתו בזה וצריך עיון רב ליישב על פי פשוט

ו

(pp. 5-6). Elsewhere he writes with regard to having special kavanot when saying the name of God “ומעולם לא עלה על הדעת קדושים הראשונים חכמים וסופרים לחשוב מחשבות וספירות כי בימיהם לא ידע מאומה, בלי מה מספירה.” (p. 133).

In general, throughout R. Fleckeles writings, there are interesting statements about Kabbalah and the Zohar especially, in the above mentioned Ahavat Dovid. In the introduction to that work he quotes a letter from R. Naftai Hertz Wessley which says

כי שמעתי מפי הגאון המקובל הגדול שהי’ ידוע הזוהר וכל ספרי האר”י ז”ל בעל פה הוא הרב ר’ יהונתן אייבשיטץ זצ”ל שהיה אומר לשומעי דבריו בעיני הקבלה כשראה שהם מפקפקים בהם ואמר אם לא תאמינו אין בכך כלום כי אין אלו מעיקרי אמונתנו, וכן היה אומר לאלו המביאים הקדמות מדברי קבלה לישב איזה גמרא או מדרש לא חפצתי בזאת ומה חדוש על פי קבלה תוכל ליישב מה שתרצה אמור לי הפשט הברור על ידי נגלה ואז אודך וכל זה אמת עי”ש עוד

Aside from the content of the letter, it is noteworthy that R. Fleckeles quotes R. Wessley at all, as Wessley was one of the early leaders of the haskalah movement and close to Mendelssohn.

The book ends with eulogies and has a separate title, Kuntres Nefesh Dovid v’Nefesh Chayah. This section is comprised of eulogies R. Fleckeles said on his parents, and includes many wonderful explanations of derush on all kinds of topics.

All of this is included in the back of the new work, Nekadesh es Shimcha. This work also is on the topic of the names and status thereof, of God in the Torah. Its author, R. Yehuda Farakas, includes many haskmos including that of R. Elyashiv. The main purpose of this book is to update R. Fleckeles work with the many sources which were unavailable to R. Fleckeles. There are also discussions of pesukim R. Fleckeles did not discuss at all.

Again, R. Farkas uses many works which are not typically used in a halachic context, this includes recently published manuscripts. Amongst the more noteworthy are the Pirush R. Avrohom ben HaRambam, Radak, and Bechor Shor. The use of these runs counter to the well-known opinion of the Chazon Ish regarding newly published manuscripts. R. Farkas also uses many commentaries on the Targumim and Ibn Ezra not otherwise used by most. Throughout, he quotes the pesakim of R. Elyashiv.

In conclusion, this an impressive, encyclopedic work on the topic of God’s name. This is helpful in understanding the meaning of various pesukim in the Chumash. It is noteworthy that the controversial quotes remained, such as that of Mendelsshon. It is possible R. Farkas was unaware the Nesivos Shalom is the title of Mendelssohn’s Biur. The one criticism is R. Farkas’s decision not to republish the second part of Meleches haKodesh which would have made this a complete one-volume compendium on this topic.




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

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

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

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

When challenged by R. Shaul Yisraeli that the text in the Arukh ha-Shulhan was written with an eye to the anti-Semitic government, Elon defended his position that the text is R. Epstein’s authentic opinion.[2] I don’t wish to get into this dispute at present,[3] and readers interested in the topic can consult R. Michael Broyde’s article “Informing on Others for Violating American Law: A Jewish Law View”, available here
R. Rabinovitch’s new commentary is also relevant to this debate, since he identifies examples of what he regards as self-censorship in the Arukh ha-Shulhan, and these are in areas not as potentially problematic as the halakhot dealing with mesirah. In his discussion of the Hanukkah story, Arukh ha-Shulhan 670:3, R. Epstein writes: שכשנכנסו אנשי אנטיוכס להיכל. Yet in the Talmud it states שכשנכנסו יוונים להיכל. R. Rabinovitch suggests that this is an example of self-censorship.[4] At first I thought that this was somewhat far fetched. I didn’t think that there was any reason to fear that government officials would be offended by a simple historical description that mentions the ancient Greeks. However, S. wrote to me as follows.

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

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

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

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

We can argue about whether this or that particular halakhah in the Arukh ha-Shulhan is an example of self-censorship, but there can be no doubt about the basic fact that R. Epstein did indeed censor himself for fear of the Czar. All one needs to do is see his fawning essay “Kevod Melekh”, at the beginning of Arukh ha-Shulhan, Hoshen Mishpat, to get a sense of the environment he had to operate in. In this essay he tells the reader how much the Jews love the Czar, and that is why they pray for him and his family every Shabbat and Yom Tov.
R. Eliyahu Zini,[5] whose books I hope to discuss in a future post, points to a clear example of the Arukh ha-Shulhan’s self-censorship in Orah Hayyim 329:9. There he writes:
לסטים שצרו על בתי ישראל אם באו על עסקי ממון . . . אבל אם באו על עסקי נפשות להרוג ולאבד או אפילו באו סתם והיינו שאין ידוע לנו על מה באו הוה ג”כ כבבירור על עסקי נפשות דסתם לסטים הם הורגי נפשות יוצאים עליהם בכלי זיין ומחללין עליהם את השבת ובזמן הקדמון בזמן שבהמ”ק היה קיים ובאו לעיר העומדת על הגבול. . . .
This halakhah is derived from Eruvin 45a, but in this text there is no mention of bandits – לסטים. Rather, the Talmud is speaking of non-Jews – נכרים (an alternate reading cited by Dikdukei Soferim is גוים). Secondly, there is nothing in the Talmud about the last halakhah I quoted only applying in the era when the Temple stood. These changes made by R. Epstein were due of fear of creating problems with the government. I think this is as clear as it can be, which makes it very surprising that R. Ovadiah Yosef took the Arukh ha-Shulhan at face value that the latter halakhah only applied in the days of the Temple. R. Ovadiah then points out that the Shulhan Arukh disagrees, seeing the halakhah as also applying in contemporary times.[6]

R. Zini cannot contain himself at this (mis)understanding of R. Ovadiah, and as he often does, he rejects R. Ovadiah’s point very strongly.[7]
ומי פתי הוא זה שלא יבין שבעל ערוך השלחן “צינזר את עצמו” מפחד הצאר, כפי שעשה בעשרות מקומות בספרו זה . . . ופלא נשגבה ממני איך הגר”ע יוסף שליט”א לא הבחין בכך?!
As mentioned already, the Talmud, Eruvin 45a, uses the word נכרים. This means non-Jews, and only non-Jews. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I saw that the Soncino translation has the following: “If foreigners besieged Israelite towns.” Since there is no way that the translator, who was a learned man, could have made such a mistake, I can only assume that this translation was also designed to avoid any non-Jewish ill will.
Since the author of the Arukh ha-Shulhan, R. Jehiel Michel Epstein, was the brother-in-law of R. Naftali Zvi Judah Berlin, now is a good place to note the problem with one of the titles of R. Berlin’s works. His commentary to R. Ahai Gaon’s She’iltot is העמק שאלה. How should these words be pronounced? Some scholars write Ha-Amek She’alah, basing themselves on Isaiah 7:11. However, Gil S. Perl argues that the correct pronunciation is Ha-Amek She’elah. As he puts it, if the pronunciation in Isaiah was intended, “the title would mean ‘sink to the depths,’ the ‘depths’ (from the word she’ol) being a reference to the netherworld or Hell—a rather strange title for a work of halakhic commentary.” Perl therefore suggest that the Netziv “intended his title as a play on those words from Isaiah pronounced Ha’amek She’alah, meaning ‘delve into the question” or perhaps ‘delve into the She’ilta.’”[8]
Speaking of proper pronunciation of titles, ArtScroll might play a positive role in this. Since today so many people studying Talmud are using ArtScroll, they will see that the tractates are pronounced “Arachin”, not “Eruchin”, and “Horayos”, not “Horiyos”. So I hope that these yeshivish pronunciations will soon be a thing of the past, at least among English speakers, and if so this will be thanks to ArtScroll. Furthermore, since their edition of the Midrash Rabbah has started to appear people in yeshiva circles will begin to use it, and slowly the pronunciation “Medrish” may go by the wayside (at least we can hope so). Now if we could only rid people of the pronunciation “ikrim” instead of “ikarim”.
Having said all this, it is also the case that general convention can sometimes trump proper grammatical pronunciation. For example, take the words נודע ביהודה which appear Psalms 76:2. These words are pronounced Noda Bihudah, yet when referring to the book by this title the convention is to write Noda bi-Yehudah, even though this is not the correct pronunciation.
For those who want to see a bit of “Sephardic supremacy” when it comes to pronunciation, see this video where R. Ovadiah really lets the Ashkenazim have it.

Returning to the Arukh ha-Shulhan, its significance has declined in the last two generations. While figures such as R. Joseph Elijah Henkin, R. Moses Feinstein, and R. Yaakov Kamenetsky regarded the Arukh ha-Shulhan as more authoritative than the Mishnah Berurah,[9] not many poskim still have this perspective. Whereas the Arukh ha-Shulhan used to stand on its own, in our day we have seen the publication of an edition of the Arukh ha-Shulhan accompanied by the pesakim of the Mishnah Berurah, the point of which is to let the reader know that while one can study the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a theoretical work, when it comes to practical halakhah one must follow the Mishnah Berurah.[10]
The truth is that one can use the Arukh ha-Shulhan as a work of practical halakhah just like one can use the Mishnah Berurah. This reminds me of an experience I had many years ago when I believe I was still in high school. I was at a shiur where the rabbi was learning Mishnah Berurah. After reading one halakhah in the Mishnah Berurah he pointed out that “we don’t hold like this”. A member of the audience asked how one who learns the Mishnah Berurah by himself is supposed to know when that is the case, that is, when “we don’t hold” like it. The rabbi replied that this is why it is important to have a rav, so that you will know when we follow the Mishnah Berurah and when we don’t.
Even though I was quite young I thought that this was a mistaken reply, and the many years subsequent have not changed my mind. It is of course important to have a rav, but not for the reason the rabbi said. There is absolutely nothing wrong with someone learning the Mishnah Berurah (or Arukh ha-Shulhan) and following everything in it. One doesn’t need, and it would be an impossible task, to ask his rabbi about each and every halakhah if this is what “we follow”. One who lives in an Orthodox community will learn that sometimes the community practice is more lenient than what appears in these works, and sometimes it is more strict. It is in those circumstances that I think that one should consult one’s rav, and ask him if despite common practice it makes sense to be lenient in accord with either of these texts, or if one should be strict as recommended by either the Mishnah Berurah or Arukh ha-Shulhan even though the common practice is not like this. But as a general rule, and I have never had a teacher who thought otherwise, one can rely on either of these classic halakhic texts.
2. Many people were distressed to see the sources from great pre-modern poskim that spoke about all sorts of physical mutilation, including R. Asher ben Jehiel agreeing that an adulteress’ nose could be cut off. I have mentioned in the past, but it bears repeating here, that the various punishments seen were also found in the contemporary non-Jewish society.[11] I know this may be troubling to some readers, to see that leading rabbis had an approach to punishment that today people regard as barbaric. Yet there really is no alternative, as to a certain extent, every generation reflects the general values of society at large. Halakhah and Jewish thought are often likewise affected in this way. I have provided numerous examples of this throughout the years, so there is no need to go through it again.[12]
3. In a question “ripped from the headlines”, I was asked if I know of any past examples of someone secretly observing women in the mikveh. I don’t of any such cases, although in the anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im[13] it quotes a hasidic author as follows:
ואני אומר דראוי לעמוד בשעת טבילה. ויאמין לי שפעם אחת עמדתי בעת שטבלה אשה אחת וראיתי באותו מקום ודי עלי כאוות ולא כלום. ולאחר שהלכתי משם שרי עלי קדושה גדולה.
I have never heard of such a mikveh, where men would bathe on one side and women immerse on the other. In fact, I wouldn’t pay this text any mind, since I find it hard to believe that anyone who examines the citations from the work, which are supposedly notes on the Tur, will not conclude that it is a forgery designed to make the Hasidim look bad.[14] There are so many outrageous things said in the text that nothing else makes sense. Did any hasid, even the most extreme, ever say that one who prays properly need not fast on Yom Kippur ?[15]
כתב הטור: יוה”כ אסור באכילה ושתי’. וכתב המין: ומי שיוכל לכוין בתפלה כתיקונה מותר בכל, ואין אכילה רק שיהא עם רוחניות ולא עם גשמיות כידוע ליודעי חן.
It is difficult even to record the following shocking text,[16] but we are not in the business of censorship here, and as mentioned, I have no doubt that this is a forgery.
כתב הטור: דבעל קרי מותר האידנא בתפילה . . . וה”ה אף להוציא זרע מחמת גודל החימום הק”ש והתפילה כי זהו העיקר לכבוד השי”ת, כידוע לחכמים השלימים.
Speaking of authentic texts, however, R. Joseph Hayyim does deal with a case of voyeurism and prescribes a teshuvah for this. I don’t want to get any more explicit, so for those who read Hebrew here is the text from Od Yosef Hai: Halakhot, parashat Shofetim, no. 51[17].

I am aware of only two times that a woman (other than one’s wife) can be seen without her clothes. One is the sotah, when her top is removed.[18] R. Judah states that if her breasts are attractive, they are not exposed,[19] but his opinion is not accepted. The other time is that the kohen must examine both men and women for tzara’at, and in both cases they are to be naked.[20]
As for the current controversy about whether dayanim need to see a female convert immerse, no one has yet referred to the following responsum from Kitvei R. Weinberg, vol. 1, no. 10. When I published this book I decided to have this short responsum translated from German, although I wasn’t sure if it was worth the trouble since all R. Weinberg was doing was repeating the halakhah as it appears in the Shulhan Arukh. Recent attempts to alter the traditional method of womens’ conversion, by arguing that the dayanim should not see the actual tevilah, show that even a simple responsum like this one can have value. I am very happy that it was translated and included in the sefer, so that it can now be part of the public conversation. 

Regarding the sources that have been cited in support of changing the traditional practice, no one has yet referred to a responsum by R. Isaac Herzog in which in the specific case he discusses (and I don’t think it can be used le-khathilah for other cases) he allows that only women see the tevilah.[21]
Also worth noting, even though in my opinion it has no halakhic significance, is Masekhet Gerim 1:4 which states:
האיש מטביל את האיש והאשה מטבלת את האשה
R. Hayyim Kanievsky points out, in his commentary ad loc., that this implies that men did not see any part of the immersion (unlike the current practice).
משמע שהאנשים לא יראוה כשהיא טובלת . . . משמע שאין רואין טבילתה רק הנשים.
R. Aryeh Leib Grossnass, Lev Aryeh, vol. 2, no. 11, argues that the beit din does not actually have to see the immersion in order for the conversion to be valid. It is this responsum that R. Moses Feinstein is responding to in Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah vol. 2, no. 127.

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

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

Regarding Yeshiva Torah Vodaath, in the book Mi-Pihem shel Rabbotenu (Bnei Brak, 2008), p. 49, there in an interview with R. Don Ungarischer who states that when R. Reuven Grozovsky came to the United States during World War II, Torah Vodaath was the only yeshiva in America. This is incorrect and I am not just referring to the existence of Yeshivat R. Yitzchak Elhanan or Beit ha-Midrash le-Torah in Chicago, as Yeshivat R. Chaim Berlin also existed during this period. 
5. The second volume of Haym Soloveitchik’s collected essays has just been published. This is a very important work, especially since nine of the essays have never before appeared in print. Among these newly published essays are those that put forth a new thesis about the origins of Ashkenazic religious culture. There is so much learning in this book, and it is written in such an engaging style, that anyone with an appreciation for the history of halakhah will be spellbound.
The essay “The ‘Third Yeshivah of Bavel’”, where Soloveitchik elaborates on his new thesis, is a particular favorite of mine. It could be that in the end the scholarly community will reject his position. Yet just to read how he develops his argument, and attempts to create an entirely new paradigm, is a treat. Here is one lengthy paragraph from the essay that I found quite significant (p. 161).
Shift back now to the mid-tenth century and the original characteristics of Ashkenaz. I have noted that the new settlers saw no difference between the aggadic sections of the Talmud and the halakhic ones and exegeted both in equal detail. We take this, too, for granted because we find a commentary on both sections on every printed page of the Talmud that we have seen since early youth. Think, however, what this entails lexically. The halakhic portions of the Talmud are strongly formulaic, as is any unpunctuated text. If one knows some thirty to forty idiomatic phrases in Jewish Babylonian Aramaic, most halakhic passages will pose few linguistic problems. (Understanding their legal content is a different matter.) However, the aggadic narratives entail a wide-ranging and detailed knowledge of the Aramaic language—all the terms of different household utensils, farm equipment, agricultural practices, domestic animals, flora and fauna, to mention just a few areas of life that are reflected in the narratives of the aggadeta. We are talking about a vocabulary of some 10,000-12000 words, if not more. (Actually, much more, as one should count meanings rather than words or roots [shorashim]. Most words have multiple meanings, and commanding a language means precisely controlling the numerous meanings of its words, as well as its idioms.) Unless these settlers had a vast dictionary, alongside which the Sefer he-Arukh would seem a Berlitz phrase book, and unless this enormous dictionary and even the memory of it got lost in the Mainz academy within one generation, we must conclude that these immigrant founders of Ashkenazic culture were Aramaic speakers. Precisely because Aramaic was their native tongue, they could readily undertake what the scholars of Kairouan, Fez, and Lucena (all native Arabic speakers) could only attempt with trepidation, namely, to exegete the entire Talmud, leaving no phrase, halakhic or aggadic, unexplained.
6. The most recent issue of Milin Havivin has appeared. My article “Torah im Derekh Eretz as a Means of Last Resort” can be seen here.
I also published a letter from R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and part of another letter he wrote.

These are important letters as they show R. Weinberg’s strong belief that in the modern world rabbis need to have a secular education in order to be effective. Those who read Hebrew will see very clearly where R. Weinberg stood on this issue, and that for all his love and respect for the haredi roshei yeshiva, intellectually and spiritually he was not part of their world.
7 Finally, we come to what I have termed ArtScroll’s latest betrayal. These are harsh words, but I believe them to be entirely justified. It is one thing to censor R. Zevin, or to cut out passages from other recent works. But to do this with rishonim is a completely different matter. After my book appears, I will discuss a number of examples of censorship that for one reason or another I did not include in the book, as well as examples that I only became aware of after the book was in press. However, this is such an important example that I did not want to wait. Its importance is such that I have no doubt that according to halakhah, anyone who demands a refund from ArtScroll is entitled to his money back, as what I will show you is nothing less than a betrayal not only of the reader, who paid good money to get what he thought was a complete mikraot gedolot chumash, but also of one of the greatest rishonim, R. Samuel ben Meir (Rashbam).

Soon after Rosh ha-Shanah 2014, ArtScroll released the first volume of its mikraot gedolot chumash. It is a beautifully typeset edition, completely punctuated. The response was so positive that within a month the volume was reprinted, and it would not be a surprise if the ArtScroll mikraot gedolot became the new standard.
One of the new elements of this edition is that Rashbam to Genesis chapter 1 is included, which is not the case with the old mikraot gedolot chumashim. (It is found in the Mossad ha-Rav Kook Torat Hayyim mikraot gedolot). As you can see on this page, the Rashbam’s commentary is taken from the Rosin edition (which is where the commentary to Gen. ch. 1 first appeared).

In his commentary to chapter 1 Rashbam advances the notion that according to the peshat of the Torah, the day does not start in the evening, but in the morning. This is only one of many examples where Rashbam’s commentary explains biblical verses in accordance with the peshat, and in opposition to the rabbinic understanding. He even states that according to the peshat the commandment of tefillin in Exodus 13:9 is not to be understood literally.[22] Of course, Rashbam put on tefillin, but in this case he was only explaining what he thought the peshat was. Similarly, he began Shabbat in the evening, not in the morning, but this did not stop him from offering a peshat that differed from the halakhah.
For some reason, ArtScroll finds this difficult to take, and therefore decided to delete all of Rashbam’s “problematic” comments regarding the beginning and end of the day. I repeat, since I know this will be hard for people to believe: ArtScroll omitted portions of Rashbam’s commentary from its mikraot gedolot.

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

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

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

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

Again you can see that a section of the commentary has been deleted.
Here is Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:31 in the Rosin edition.

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

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

Small emendations such as this are obviously not acceptable, but they are in an entirely different category than the censorship in Genesis chapter 1.
I also found problems with ArtScroll’s punctuation of Rashbam. For example, in his commentary to Gen. 37:2, which is one of his most famous passages, Rashbam states that he heard from his grandfather (Rashi) that if he had time he would write new commentaries לפי הפשטות המתחדשים בכל יום. The word הפשטות is to be vocalized as ha-peshatot, i.e., the plural of peshat. ArtScroll has the mistaken vocalization ha-pashtut. Later in this verse Rashbam writes (in the Rosin version) לפי דרך ארץ קורא אחיו. ArtScroll has קרא, changing the verb from participle to perfect. I have not gone through even one chapter of the book, comparing Rosin’s edition to ArtScroll (not to mention other commentaries). If I were to do so, I am sure many more such examples would be revealed.
This post does not need any long conclusion, as the evidence speaks for itself. I would only add that when modern publishers feel that they can start deleting commentaries of rishonim, then we have reached a new low. Will students of Torah, those who treasure the words of Rashbam, tolerate this betrayal? I think (hope) not, which is why it is imperative that in the next printing ArtScroll reinsert the words of Rashbam.

[1] “Sifrei Arukh ha-Shulhan – Seder Ketivatam ve-Hadpasatam,” Hitzei Giborim 7 (2014), p. 518.
[2] See Elon, “Dinei Hasgarah be-Mishpat Ivri,” Tehumin 8 (1987), pp. 263-286, id. “Bisus ha-Ma’arekhet ha-Mishpatit al Dinei ha-Torah,” ibid., pp. 304-309; R. Yisraeli, “Hasgarat Avaryan le-Shiput Zar,” ibid., pp. 386-297. (also found in Yisraeli, Havot Binyamin, no. 23). R. Eliezer Waldenberg agreed with Elon. See Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 19, no. 52 (end).
[3] Among those who agree with R. Yisraeli is R. Menasheh Klein, Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 17, no. 108. (Look who this responsum is addressed to.)

Since I just mentioned R. Klein, let me present another responsum of his, from 1987, which unlike the others he sent me was not included in Mishneh Halakhot. It is published here for the first time.

The reason he did not include it in his responsa was undoubtedly because the “letter” he disputes is by none other than R. Kook, and R. Klein did not want to be associated with R. Kook even if he disputes with him. That explains why he won’t even mention his name here. In fact, when R. Klein cites a book published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook, he simply writes הוצאת קוק. See Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 10, p. 382. See also vol. 8, p. 78 where he writes הוצאת רמב”ן קוק.
Here is the letter from R. Kook to which R. Klein is responding (Iggerot ha-Re’iyah, vol. 1, pp. 99-100).

[4] See also p. 20 n. 13, where R. Rabinovitch points to another example where he thinks that R. Epstein’s formulation was influenced by fear of the government.
[5] Eretz Hemdatenu (Haifa, n.d.), p. 139.
[6] Masa Ovadiah (Jerusalem, 2007), p. 341.
[7] Eretz Hemdatenu, p. 139.
[8] The Pillar of Volozhin (Boston, 2012),  pp. 17-18, n. 37. This too is perhaps not the best transliteration, as in most texts the ayin in העמק has a sheva. In a minority of texts it has a hataf patah.
[9] Regarding R. Henkin, see my post here.

After that post appeared a member of R. Moshe Feinstein’s family wrote to me as follows:

I spent a great deal of time learning with and talking to Reb Moshe, both on the East Side and in the mountains.  He unambiguously told me exactly what you quote from Rav Henkin.  He explained that the Aruch Hashulchan was a Rav, while the Mishna Berura was a Rosh Yeshiva, and the psak of a Rav is better authority.  Therefore, when he was unwilling to make his own determination, he would follow the AH over the MB.  I mentioned this story to Rabbi Dovid Zucker, Rosh Kollel of Kollel Zichron Shneur in Chicago, and he told me that he heard precisely the same thing from his Rebbi, Rav Yaakov Kaminetzki.

R. Yehudah Herzl Henkin wrote to me as follows:

I notice in Seforimblog from Jan. 26 ’08 that you quote R’ Ratzabi, concerning the superiority of MB [Mishnah Berurah] over AH [Arukh ha-Shulhan], as stating  that the CI [Chazon Ish] wrote that MB is ‘like the Sanhedrin.’ He is undoubtedly referring to Igrot CI pt. 2 no. 41 which is widely misquoted in this regard. The CI says only that a ruling of the Bet Yosef and MA and MB all together– and that no one disagrees with– is like a ruling of the Sanhedrin, ayen sham. (The CI could hardly have thought that MB alone is like the Sanhedrin, as he disagrees with him in practice dozens of times.) By coincidence, I wrote this in Hatzofeh on Feb. 8 ’08. Incidentally,  R’ Menashe Klein, in comments in BB [Bnei Banim] vol.1 p. 225, attributed the popularity of MB almost to a bat kol. I expressed my surprise. Later when he reprinted his comments in Mishne Halachot he omitted the term.

[10] See R. Eitam Henkin’s (unsigned) review of this edition in Alonei Mamre 120 (2007), pp. 119-124. The Hafetz Hayyim was aware of the fact that the popularity of the Mishnah Berurah led to a decline in study of the Magen Avraham. See Meir Einei Yisrael (Bnei Brak, 2004), vol. 5, p. 403.
[11] One reader called my attention to Tory Vandeventer Pearman, Women and Disability in Medieval Literature (New York, 2010), p. 80, who discusses how cutting off the nose of an adulterous woman was a common punishment and parallel to male castration. R. Menachem Sheinkopf reminded me of Hut ha-Meshulash (Munkacs, 1984), p. 38a, which records how the Hatam Sofer in his youth witnessed the sentencing to death of an informer. This text was deleted from the next edition of Hut ha-Meshulash. See Meir Hildesheimer, “The Attitude of the Hatam Sofer toward Moses Mendelssohn,” PAAJR 60 (1994), p. 155 n. 50. It is also reported that as a youth, the Hatam Sofer personally killed an anti-Semite. See Siah Sarfei Kodesh (Bnei Brak, 1989), vol. 4, p. 154. (I don’t think that this report has any substance).
[12] One example I have often given to illustrate this was that today every rabbi will be happy to speak about how Judaism opposes slavery, and that the slavery mentioned in the Torah was far removed from the slavery in pre-Civil War days. Yet two hundred years ago, plenty of rabbis would have found nothing objectionable with Southern slavery. (When I write “every rabbi” in the first sentence of this note, it is an exaggeration. See my post here. See also R. Avigdor Miller, Q&A, vol. 2, p. 12, that it was a mistake for Lincoln to free the slaves, as they could have used another 50 or 100 years of slavery in order to “civilize” them.)
[13] Published in Mordechai Wilensky, ed., Hasidim u-Mitnagdim (Jerusalem, 1970), vol.. 2 p. 117. This strange passage is mentioned by David Biale, Eros and the Jews (Berkeley, 1997), p. 125.
[14] Wilensky leaned in this direction, see ibid., p. 112.
[15] Ibid., p. 120.
[16] Ibid., p. 119.
[17] (Jerusalem, 1910), p. 51b (second pagination)
[18] Mishnah, Sotah  1:5.
[19] Ibid. Although the Mishnah states אם היה לבה נאה this is obviously a euphemism for breasts. As is to be expected, R. Jacob Emden, Lehem Shamayim, ad loc., has something to say on this passage. How does the kohen know that she has attractive breasts, to know whether or not they can be revealed? Emden states that he heard as much from her husband. But this answer does not satisfy him, for סתם אשה כל יופי שלה שם הוא. As support for this notion, he cites Berakhot 10b שאחזה בהוד יפיה, which Rashi explains to mean “breasts” If he was more of a fan of the Zohar perhaps he would have cited Zohar, Bereshit 45a: ושפירו דאתתא באינון שדים . Zohar, Shemot 80b, states
ר’ אבא פתח (שיר השירים, ח,ח) אחות לנו קטנה ושדים אין לה מה נעשה לאחותנו ביום שידובר בה. אחות לנו קטנה דא כנסת ישראל דאקרי אחות לקב”ה. ושדים אין לה היינו דתנינן בשעתא דקריבו ישראל לטורא דסיני לא הוה בהון זכוון ועובדין טבין לאגנא עלייהו דכתיב ושדים אין לה דהא אינון תקונא ושפירו דאתתא ולית שפירו דאתתא אלא אינון
See also R. Yitzhak Ratsaby, Olat Yitzhak, vol. 2, p. 390. The second quote from the Zohar shows the importance of understanding the literal meaning of Song of Songs in order to appreciate the allegory.
[20] See Mishneh Torah, Tum’at Tzara’at 9:12.
[21] Pesakim u-Khetavim, Yoreh Deah no. 99 (p. 327). On this page R. Herzog also states we should require all ba’alei teshuvah, especially public Sabbath violators, to immerse themselves in the mikveh. This is the upshot of the Vilna Gaon’s comment to Shulhan ArukhYoreh Deah 268:30.
[22] Commentary to Ex. 13:9.