Satmar From As Seen By An Insider: A Review of the New English Biography of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe

Satmar From As Seen By An Insider: A Review of the New English Biography of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe
by Ezra Brand

I recently bought the new biography of the Satmar Rebbe, called “The Rebbe. The Extraordinary Life & Worldview of Rabbeinu Yoel Teitelbaum. The Satmar Rebbe זי”ע”, by Rabbi Dovid Meisels (Canada 2011, distributed by Israel Book Shop). Rabbi Meisels is related to Rabbi Teitelbaum, and a staunch Satmar chossid, so you can be sure that the views espoused in the book are Satmar’s true opinions. I also recently bought Solomon Poll’s classic study if chassidim in Williamsburg in the 1950’s, during which Rabbi Meisel’s book is also mostly set. It was interesting comparing the two very different views–that of a Satmar chossid looking back at those times, and that of a contemporary secular scholar like Poll. (See also an interesting review, and comments on it, here.)
The book discusses many opinions of the Rebbe. Besides for his famous anti-Zionist opinion, the book discusses such sundry topics as the required height of the mechitza in shul, metzitza b’peh, television, derech halimud, mikvaos,tznius (married women wearing sheitels, married women shaving their hair, women required to wear thick stockings—at least 90 denier), and the times for beginning and end of shabbos. It is somewhat surprising that the book doesn’t mention the Rebbe’s famous opinion that a boy and a girl shouldn’t meet more than two or three times before getting engaged. On pg. 364 the book does mention the Rebbe’s opposition to “the chosson spend[ing] time with the kallah before and after the engagement,” but no mention is made of how many times the Rebbe held the boy and girl should meet. There is a famous story told, that Reb Moshe Bick, a prominent chassidishe posek in the Bronx, decided that boys and girls should meet at least ten times before getting married. He felt that America was different than Europe, and too many divorces were happening because of improper matches. The Rebbe was strongly opposed to this. Reb Moshe Bick explained that the difference of opinion stemmed from the fact that he was a mesader gittin, while the Rebbe was a mesader kiddushin!
Almost no sources other than Satmar publications are listed as sources. These Satmar sources are listed at the end of the book in the “Bibliography;” there are about thirty or so. The only non-Satmar sources I found were “A Concise History of Agudath Israel” (pg. 97), “Uvdos Vehanhagos Leveis Brisk” (pg. 137) (basically Satmar!), “Hamodia” (pg. 220), and “Rav Shach Speaks” (pg. 528). However, it is a breath of fresh air to see at least some sources listed; most heimishe publication until now have opted to leave them out.
The book is notable in that it is very politically incorrect. It doesn’t beat around the bush when it confronts Reb Yoel’s opinion on Zionism. Reb Yoel was famously extremely anti-Zionist—as are both camps of Satmar today—and Rabbi Meisels emotively explains the basis of his opinion. Of course, there are a lot of polemics, such as the story on page 313, where Rabbi Meisels writes:
Indeed, one measure of the impact of Vayoel Moshe is that whatever books the Zionists have since published purporting to refute it (notably Hatekufah Hagedolah and Nefesh Adah) have not been taken seriously in the general Torah world. To this day, no serious mainstream work has been written to refute Vayoel Moshe. Even those rabbis who continue to advocate voting in the Zionist elections use the terms “eis laasos” and “aveirah lishmah,” indicating that at least in theory they agree with the central concepts of Vayoel Moshe.

Notice that the all-inclusive term “Zionists” is used, without even using the word “rabbis,” even though the authors of the “Zionist books” cited were undoubtedly great Talmidei Chachomim. This pattern of not giving those who hold of Zionism any titles of respect holds true throughout the book. For example, on page 294, Rabbi Yehuda Leib Maimon, the founder of Mossad Harav Kook, is referred to as “Yehuda Leib Maimon.” It is therefore somewhat surprising that on page 317, the Minister of Religious Affairs is referred to as “Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Toledano.” Maybe only Sefardim are allowed to be Zionists!
On pg. 178, the book says about the Satmar newspaper, Der Yid: “The policy of Der Yid was that whenever the State of Israel (Medinas Yisroel) was mentioned, the word “Yisroel” was placed in quotation marks to show that Torah Jewry, the true Israel, did not recognize the Zionists’ right to use their name.” (Notice “Torah Jewry,” not just Satmar.) This is followed by Rabbi Meisels himself, such as on pg. 249 (“…State of “Israel.” “). Usually, just the term “Zionist state” is used (e.g., on pg. 247). It is surprising that on pg. 523 the book mention “[t]he Israeli authorities.” I am sure this oversight will be corrected in future editions.
Throughout the book, the author hints to the Satmar opinion that kiruv rechokim is problematic. On page 13 he writes: “One of the secrets of the Rebbe’s success is that he never tried to perfect all of American Jewry and bring it into his fold. Instead, he worked hard to keep himself and his own community, which was mostly made up of post-War immigrants, unscathed.” Satmar is famous for disagreeing with Lubavitch on this point, however this disagreement is never stated explicitly. Rather, the author says that this is why Rabbonim before the War were not successful in planting Yiddishkeit in America (page 150): “A certain writer wrote that he heard from the Rebbe in 1955, ‘Why was I more successful in planting Torah in America than all the other gedolim who tried? Because they took in too much, they wanted to make the whole America good. In order to reach people, they had to make compromises. But I realized that Yiddishkeit can only grow if you plant perfect seeds. It doesn’t grow from compromises.” This completely ignores the fact that the Satmar Rebbe was working with people who had relatively recently been forcibly plucked from their homes in Hungary, straight into Williamsburg. On the other hand, earlier Rabbonim were dealing with people who had willingly left their very religious hometowns in Eastern Europe to go to America, a much more secular country. In addition, some of the American Jews had been in America for decades, and had gotten used to the freedom of acting how they pleased, without operating within the very strict confines of the Chassidic community. On pg. 515, the book discusses the Rebbe’s opposition to Lubavitcher chassidim putting tefillin on secular Israeli soldiers, based on halachic problems. Impressively, the book quotes the Lubavitchers answer back, albeit with a rejoinder.
For some reason, the Rebbe did not like the chassidim in Borough Park. This is despite the fact that there were also Satmar chassidim in Borough Park. On pg. 400 and pg. 429 derogatory remarks said about Borough Park by the Rebbe are recounted.
Very harsh words are quoted from the Rebbe about the Lithuanian derech halimud. On pg. 457, he is quoted to have said, in response to why bochurim in Litvish yeshivas “undeniably” learn with more enthusiasm and hasmadah than the Satmar bochurim: “…Here too, there is no truth in the ‘belly logic’ (boich svaros) used in these yeshivas. It’s all their own made up ideas, and it’s fun for them to think about ideas that they themselves made up.” And again: “Their style is not more than three generations old. They created it in order to save the younger generation from the Haskalah. It’s a totally new derech. We see that not one halachic authority came out from them. There is one of them who paskens shailos, and he wreaks terrible destruction. It’s a totally new derech, and it’s not Toras Emes.” The Rebbe isn’t exactly the open-minded or “eilu ve’eilu divrei elokim chaim” type. I’m curious to know which specific posek he was referring to that he feels “wreaks terrible destruction.” It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out, because he is the only Lithuanian who paskens! I’m assuming he meant Reb Moshe Feinstein, with whom the Rebbe had many halachic/ ideological disputes.
An interesting story is told on pg. 474. One of the founding parents of “Bais Ruchel”– the Satmar girls’ school—came to the Rebbe with a complaint. “He [had] discovered that the teacher had instructed the girls to write the Hebrew words “Ani ohev es habeged (I love the garment) as writing practice.” Now, you might think the parent had a complaint that the sentence is grammatically incorrect. A girl writing this sentence should write “ani oheves es habeged.” Or, he complained that his daughter shouldn’t be taught to love her clothing, but rather Hashem. But no. His complaint is: “The Rebbe founded a girls’ school to raise a new generation of girls like our mothers and grandmothers in Europe. Now I see that my daughter brought home a notebook in which she wrote ‘Ani ohev es habeged.’ The Rebbetzin argues that the girls can’t be so ignorant; they are allowed to understand what they are saying when they daven. I had a grandmother who passed away at 103, and she knew the entire Tehillim and Maamados by heart. But she didn’t understand what she was saying. That’s how our children should grow up as well.” The Rebbe said to his rebbetzin: “ ‘He’s right!’ “ In other words, this man’s grandmother had lived to such a ripe old age because she didn’t know the words she was saying! Rather, they should be some magical formula not to be understood.
The book discusses at relative length the process of founding “Kiryas Yoel.” On pg. 528, we read that “[a] Yekke from Washington Heights, who agreed with the Rebbe’s views on many issues, wanted to move to the new town. The Rebbe invited him, ‘Bring another nine Ashkenazim with you, and you can start your own minyan in Kiryas Yoel.” I wonder who this “Yekke” was., and how long he would have lasted among the thousands of chassidim in Kiryas Yoel!
On pg. 45, R’ Meisels bring the famous myth that the town “Satmar” in Hungary is named after St. Mary. He writes: “The Rebbe never pronounced the name Satmar, since it is the name of avodah zarah. Instead he would say ‘Sakmar.’ This pronunciation was also customary in Tzanz.” Throughout the book, when the Rebbe himself mentions the name “Satmar,” “Sakmar” is used instead. In truth, “Satmar” is a combination of the Latin word “Sattu,” meaning village, and the Romanian word “Mare,” meaning large. (See the beginning of the Wikipedia article on Satmar here.)
Something that I felt was lacking was any sign of Yiddish whatsoever. The Satmar Rebbe was known as a smart person, and the book brings a nice amount of stories that contain the Rebbe’s witticisms. I enjoy seeing the actual expression used, and since the Rebbe only spoke Yiddish, as the book says on pg. 26, the Rebbe obviously said whatever he said in Yiddish. Most such biographies quote the exact expression, and then translate. Possibly, Rabbi Meisels didn’t use any English lehavdil bein kodesh lechol. I’ll explain. On pg. 13, R’ Meisels writes that he really shouldn’t be writing the book in English, since the Rebbe was against the use of English “as a medium of speaking and reading within the Jewish community.” But since there were many outside of Satmar who were interested in the life of the Rebbe, the decision was reached to write a book in English. On pg. 488, R’ Meisels writes with pride that in the Satmar summer camps, for two months the campers “did not even hear a single English word.” I guess once the decision was reached not to use Yiddish, Yiddish could never be used!
Some surprising stories are told about talmidei chachamim, which seem to be against halacha:
1) On pg. 144, R’ Meisels talks about how after the Rebbe came to America from Israel in 1946, R’ Michoel Ber Weissmandel (Rosh Yeshiva of Nitra Yeshiva in Mount Kisco) wanted to make sure he wouldn’t return to Israel. He therefore took the Rebbe’s passport and ripped it up. What is the heter to destroy someone else’s passport just because you think he shouldn’t continue travelling?
2) The book speaks about how the Rebbe was “very particular not to use tainted or impure money” (pg. 187). It goes on to write that “[m]any times, they also witnessed him taking undesirable money and flushing it down the toilet.” Similarly, on pg. 190-191, it is told that after accepting a ten-dollar bill from “a man who was not properly observant,” the Rebbe “took that ten-dollar bill, rolled it up and began to use it to scratch his ears. Soon he tore off a piece, and continued to scratch his ears with the remainder. He tore off another piece, until the entire bill was gone.” First of all, didn’t all those people who gave the money give it to support charitable causes? Didn’t they want the zchus of their money being put to good use? If the Rebbe was planning on destroying the money, he should not have accepted the money in the first place. In addition, according to American law, it is illegal to destroy money. What happened to dina d’malchusa dina? However, it is possible that the Rebbe wasn’t aware that this was illegal.
3) On pg. 193-194, the book tells how the a man gave money to the Rebbe to pay his debts: “…As soon as the old man heard this, he brought the Rebbe 20,000 crowns. ‘Now you can go and pay your debts.’ “ Soon after, the Rebbe gave the money to a poor girl for her dowry. When the person who gave money to the Rebbe found out, he protested: “ ‘But I gave you the money only on condition that you would use it to pay your debts, not for tzedaka!’ the old chassid protested. The Rebbe replied: ‘The yetzer hara has already been arguing with me for quite some time, trying to convince me to stop giving tzedaka. And now you are arguing with me as well. Don’t worry, I will soon give you back your money.’ “ Here ends the story. The problem is, the halacha clearly states that if a person gives tzedaka with intentions that the money should be used for a specific purpose, the money cannot be used for any other purpose. See Rama; Yoreh De’ah 256:4; Shach ibid. s”k 10; Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat 125:1; ibid. se’if 5; ibid. se’if 6; ibid. se’if 7; Shach ibid. s”k 25. However, it is possible that the Rebbe thought that the donor wouldn’t mind. But if so, the book should speak that out.
On pg. 268, the book describes the tricks Neturei Karta used to make sure they would win control of the Eidah Hachareidis: “Shortly before the election, the Neturei Karta divided their candidates into two parties, Neturei Karta, under Reb Amram, and Mesores Vene’emanus, under Rabbi Eliyahu Nachum Porush. In the second party they placed candidates who were not so well-known. The goal was that some voters who did not support Neturei Karta would vote for this party and thus take away votes from Agudah.” This kind of book obviously doesn’t bring any stories about its allies which they feel were done wrongly. It is therefore surprising that the book describes these devious schemes were used to rig the election.
All in all, the book tells many interesting stories about the Satmar Rebbe. It also provides a good overview of the growth of Satmar in America from after the War until the 1970’s. However, some of the stories and views are a little extreme for the litvishe palette, and the book is very polemical in nature. However, this biography will be treasured for giving over a truly unique viewpoint of a gadol, a biography so different than other “heimeshe”, biographies.



Bein hashemashot: A Reevaluation of the Texts Part IV

Bein hashemashot: A Reevaluation of the Texts Part IV
by: Dr. William Gewirtz

This is the last of four posts based on a forthcoming monograph by Dr. William Gewirtz that addresses the period of bein hashemashot, the most fundamental area of dispute in the area of zemanim.

The previous post summarized the main sections of the monograph; this post summarizes some of the areas of innovation and is followed by concluding observations.

Much of what was proposed tacitly made two basic assumptions:

 First, both halakhic practice and its conceptualization were influenced by the migration of Jews from the Middle East to Central and Northern Europe during a period when the impact of latitude on zemanim was not yet understood.
 Second, with the subsequent growth of clocks, increasingly, halakhic practice was specified using time in preference to observation of natural events.

It is probable that both of these factors were consequential. (Increasingly, time replaced observation as the basis for specifying halakhot. Preference for a time based halakhic rule (72 minutes, for example) over the underlying event from which the interval of time was derived has become increasingly common. More subjectively defined phenomena like misheyakir or the approximate boundary between a medium and a small star were less often utilized and, as a result, became less well understood.)

The PDF of the entire epilogue is attached. The epilogue includes a complete list of the innovations that have been proposed and a more extensive version of post 3. A subset of the innovations proposed and a concluding example and remarks follow below:

1. The dispute between the geonim and Rabbeinu Tam revolves around placing the interval of bein hashemashot, whose length is the time to walk ¾ mil, within the interval between sunset and tzait (kol) hakokhavim whose length is the time to walk 4 mil. It is normally assumed that:

 the opinion of the geonim places bein hashemashot at the start of the interval, while
 Rabbeinu Tam places it at its end.

Those two alternatives represent opposite extremes. Two modifications were suggested throughout:

 First, separate the dispute between the geonim and Rabbeinu Tam into two distinct components; the first concerns the beginning and the second the end of the bein hashemashot period, subject to a constraint on the length of the bein hashemashot interval.
 Second, assume that there are multiple hybrid / intermediate positions, bracketed by these two alternatives. (These positions might be more properly characterized as variants to the position of the geonim as they are all much closer to their bein hashemashot interval.)

This allows:

 an interpretation of the gemara in Shabbat similar or more likely identical to that of the overwhelmingly compelling position of the geonim relative to the end of the bein hashemashot period,

 while defining the beginning of bein hashemashot using a variant of the textual approach of the Shulchan Aruch and Rabbeinu Tam.

While I have not seen this conceptualization formulated explicitly (Throughout R. Kapach’s commentary on Mishneh Torah, however, he asserts that this is the position of Rambam.) in the classic halakhic literature, practice and a number of pragmatic opinions are supportive of such an approach. This approach impacted sections 5 – 8 and is central to many of the suggested innovations. The opposite implication:

 Anyone who rejects the start of Shabbat precisely at or even some number of minutes after sunset must embrace the approach of Rabbeinu Tam

which does not follow logically, is often found in the literature.
2. It is preferable to read the gemara in Shabbat assuming that all opinions vary insignificantly concerning the end of Shabbat; this is the opinion of almost all rishonim and independent of the position of Rabbeinu Tam. The gemara’s focus is primarily on the beginning of bein hashemashot on Friday evening, and that point is in dispute.

3. Modern practice, contemporary halakhic literature, as well as colloquial idiom, typically refers to time intervals calculated from sunset. Assuming that way of thinking when reading specific sources, we fail to consider that the gemara, various rishonim and achronim (we referenced R. Lorberbaum, R. Adler and R. Sofer) refer to intervals of time counting backward from the end of Shabbat as well, not always counting forward from sunset.

4. Rabbah’s interval, the time to walk ¾ mil, is more likely an upper bound on the length of bein hashemashot (the length of bein hashemashot in the summer) counting back from the point of chashekha versus a lower bound (the length of bein hashemashot in the spring) counting forward from sunset. Treating the gemara in Shabbat similar to the gemara in Pesachim as referring only to the (fall and) spring equinox is unnecessary when thinking of the interval as a practical upper bound. (First suggested by the Gaon in OC 261 and widely assumed in recent halakhic literature. Note while the gemara in Pesachim assumes an average that occurs at both the spring and fall equinox, the Gaon’s argument assumes, not an average, but a minimum and referring only to the spring, but not the fall equinox. No rishonim, who limit the gemara in Pesachim to the equinox periods in the fall and spring, make any such assertion with respect to the gemara in Shabbat. A maximum, as opposed to a minimum, would apply year round, as one might also conclude from the lack of commentary.) All the other measures in the gemara of chashekha, the appearance of the horizon, or the visibility of three stars apply year-round. Some of the arguments in favor of such a position include:

 The gemara in Shabbat is discussing Friday night and the beginning of bein hashemashot, as opposed to its end. If the time to walk ¾ of a mil were a minimum, counting forward from the beginning of bein hashemashot, it would address the end of bein hashemashot and the end of Shabbat, as opposed to its beginning.
 The three fractions of the time to walk a mil that are given as alternatives for the length of bein hashemashot would all have identical semantics counting back from the assumed point of chashekha.
 The interval of bein hashemashot is of practical consequence providing a useful upper-bound as opposed to a theoretical lower bound.
 If someone were countering the position of Rabi Yosi, who says bein hashemashot is instantaneous, it is more likely that he would say that it can be as long as opposed to as short as.

5. Shmuel’s assertion about 1, 2 and 3 stars is likely to mean that one star can still occur during daytime, but two stars only (If we assume that bein hashemashot begins 14 -15 minutes after sunset then “only” should be replaced with “almost always.” Though proposed by R. Kapach in his interpretation of Rambam, it would make Shmuel’s assertion slightly less useful. The suggested meaning of Shmuel’s statement is more elegant if we assume that bein hashemashot starts at most 12 – 13 minutes after sunset in the Middle East.) appear after the beginning of bein hashemashot (whose start may also precede the appearance of the first star) and three stars confirm that the transition to the next day has occurred.

6. Moving the beginning of bein hashemashot forward from sunset even according to Rabbah, a variant of the generally assumed opinion of the geonim, successively solves the following issues:

 at 4 – 5 minutes, the minimal time reported as the custom of Jerusalem as well as the opinion of R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi, the point when the sun disappears from the highest elevations around Jerusalem, Shmuel is consistent at least in a limited sense with R. Yosef while remaining completely inconsistent with Rabbah.
 at 6 minutes, the opinion of R. Chaim Volozhiner and the appearance of a single star in the spring to an expert observer, Shmuel is more easily consistent with R. Yosef but consistent with Rabbah only in a limited sense.
 at 7 – 15 minutes depending on a variety of factors, Shmuel is entirely consistent with Rabi Yehudah and the time to walk ¾ mil can be easily considered a practical upper bound.

7. While many equate and then struggle to resolve Rambam’s approach to Shabbat and Kiddush Hachodesh; I assume they are dissimilar. (Why so obvious an approach was not considered may be related to the assumption that safek chashekha and bein hashemashot are coincident. Though the two notions may be practically coincident, they are certainly not conceptually the same. For those following an opinion akin to the geonim for the end of Shabbat, they may not even be practically coincident. Within the halakhic literature there are differing opinions about the relationship between safek chashekha and bein hashemashot.) In both instances, Rambam considers chashekha as defining the end of a day. For a beit din declaring the beginning of a new month, Rambam sees no necessity to impose an interval of bein hashemashot. Thus, Rambam in hilkhot Kiddush Hachodesh states the halakha in (2:8) and then the recommended practice in (2:9). However, in hilkhot Shabbat, as noted in our opening paragraph, when dealing with a community, Rambam utilizes a notion of bein hashemashot, an interval that he defines practically as opposed to theoretically.

8. While the appearance of the horizon and the visibility of stars are difficult to reconcile with the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam, the argument between Abaye and Ravah, looking east and west at the same point in time, is most challenging. I cannot conceive of anyone in the Middle East detecting any change looking at the eastern sky 50 – 60 minutes after sunset. This is perhaps the greatest challenge to Rabbeinu Tam’s definition of the end of Shabbat.

9. It is probable that R. Adler’s 24/35 minute period of bein hashemashot is computed counting back from Rabbeinu Tam’s conceptual end of Shabbat. The alternatives, either counting back from the time that the Frankfurt community typically observed as the end of Shabbat or counting forward from any point in time, are less plausible. While this formulation faces textual challenges, other attempts to explain R. Adler’s opinion including that assumed by the editors referenced by Dr. Leiman as well as multiple suggestions of R. Benish face far more difficulty.

10. A number of recent essays on zemanim, including those by R. Kotler and R. Willig, suggest specific dependencies linking

 the dispute between the geonim and Rabbeinu Tam,
 the dispute whether shaot zemaniot are calculated from sunrise or from alot hashachar,
 and in the case of R. Willig even the time to walk a mil.

I see no such logical dependency and found that custom and / or authorities supported almost every possible combination of alternatives.

11. It is puzzling that when calculating the opinion of the Magen Avraham / Trumat Hadeshen attention to the impact of latitude and/or seasonality is rarely taken into account. In addition to morning zemanim, like the latest time for kriat shema, being earlier, this approach would also provide an alternative for plag haminkha (that many communities in US latitudes might find useful.) Similarly, adjusting alot hashachar would often imply an earlier start for those fast days that start at daybreak (particularly the 17th of Tammuz.) (While not a Magen Avraham specific issue since alot hashachar is applicable according to all opinions, invariance of the 72/90 minute interval is likely inherited from similar practice applied to the position of Rabbeinu Tam with respect to the end of Shabbat which then influenced the calculation of shaot zemaniot according to the Magen Avraham. (See summary for category 3. where this is further explained.) Though conceptually challenging in both contexts, a fixed 72/90 minutes does not create obvious observational issues, except for alot hashachar and only at latitudes further from the equator, like northern Europe.) That would avoid a practice that allows eating on the morning of a fast as late as (or even after) the time of misheyakir.

A concluding example:

The migration of Jews from the Middle East to other locations required adjustment in practice that often necessitated creating concrete concepts in areas that might have otherwise been left unexplored. That process contributed to a wealth of material with which many poskim have had to grapple. Both the categorization and the new approaches that have been proposed should make this vast halakhic literature more understandable.

As I mentioned in the preamble, criticism within the rabbinic literature has been muted, (There are a few very notable and important exceptions.) and potential inaccuracies have often not been identified and discussed adequately. As a result, it is impossible (perhaps even for great poskim who are unacquainted with astronomy or the impacts of season and /or latitude) to read the literature without intense effort.

Let me illustrate using the most widely followed posek of our times, and conclude with a few words, which I hope will be taken as they are meant. I choose R. Feinstein because I assume that many will conclude that if his responsa illustrate my concerns, I could have easily chosen any number of other poskim.

Consider five decisions of R. Feinstein:

1. In the New York area, Shabbat ends 50 minutes after sunset even in accordance with Rabbeinu Tam.
2. One can pray as early as 90 minutes before sunrise under special circumstances.
3. Perform a brit the following week on Wednesday, for example, for a baby born late Wednesday afternoon until 9 minutes after sunset.
4. In the New York area, allow specific activities forbidden only at a rabbinic level on the Shabbat until 40 minutes after sunset on Friday.
5. Unlike other zemanim, chatzot is always at the same time (that varies by location) and does not vary throughout the year.

Summarizing issues discussed previously, these tshuvot are challenging in six (R. Feinstein’s mention of the time to walk 4 mil as 96 minutes while given no practical consequence is also problematic.) different areas:

1. Like R. Pimential approach to Holland, R. Feinstein’s derivation of 50 minutes for New York, reasons by analogy on the appearance of stars, using Lithuania as his base for 72 minutes. Were R. Feinstein to have used Babylonia, certainly a more logical choice, he would undoubtedly have reached a radically different conclusion. R. Willig expresses a similar point, albeit less directly. (This issue was raised directly in a recent sefer by R. D. Heber, Shaarei Zemanim, page 90.) Generally, this psak is quoted without hesitation or comment. (Perhaps new meaning for the term chassid shoteh can be ascribed to the publishers of a sheet I picked up at the Kotel, that provide R. Feinstein’s 50 minute zman for New York for use in Jerusalem.)
2. As R. Feinstein is following the conceptual approach of Rabbeinu Tam, then the end of Shabbat and the time for alot hashachar ought to be treated identically. Instead, R. Feinstein:

 relies on a 22.5 versus 18 minute time to walk a mil for alot hashachar but never even suggests a 22.5 minutes based stringency for Shabbat,
 adjusts only Shabbat’s end but not alot hashachar based on latitude (R. Feinstein does briefly mention the possibility of latitude adjustments for alot hashachar in the tshuva but chooses not use it.) and
 never addresses the relationship between his rulings that, according to the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam that he is following, are conceptually linked.

3. Adjusting zemanim based on latitude to correlate to a physical occurrence like the appearance of stars or the degree of light is strongly supported. However, directly adjusting the time to walk a mil whose length is linked neither to latitude nor to season by location, has no logical basis and leads to conclusions that are in fundamental conflict with observation. (While there exists imprecise language in the literature prior to R. Feinstein that talks in terms of such adjustments, using it as a basis for a psak that reduces / equates 13.5 minutes to 9.375 minutes is inexplicable. As we have noted, this is logically equivalent to asserting a watch that moves 72 minutes in Lithuania, only moves 50 minutes in New York.)

4. Deriving the beginning of bein hashemashot by subtracting from the time that Shabbat ends is common in psak and rooted in the text of the gemara. However, it requires that the end of Shabbat be accurately established. The time that R. Feinstein uses for the end of Shabbat is his (and R. Y. M. Tukitzinsky’s) calculation that is among the most stringent methods for calculating what is already a stringency based on three small stars and not the point that the gemara uses, three medium stars. This is further impacted by R. Feinstein’s use of a “truncated / adjusted” time to walk ¾ mil of 9.375 minutes (as opposed to 13.5 minutes) for the New York area, resulting in a significant leniency. To be concrete, as opposed to the 40 minutes (50 minutes and subtracting 9.375 minutes for bein hashemashot) after sunset that R. Feinstein derives, three medium stars are visible approximately 27 – 32 minutes after sunset, safek chashekha and certainly bein hashemashot precedes that point by some number of minutes. Of course, R. Feinstein, operating within the framework of Rabbeinu Tam, may not consider 50 minutes as a stringency.

5. Chatzot varies slightly day to day (given the tilt of the earth in its orbit) according to the all methods for calculating the hours of the day; the variation is approximately 20 minutes in the New York area.

6. At a very fastidious level, R. Feinstein calculates adjustments based on latitude without regard for the non-linear relationships that exist between the duration of different sub-intervals of bein hashemashot.

In all but the third item above, R. Feinstein had an extensive literature from which to derive support. As was noted, R. Soloveitchik carefully recast the opinion Rabbeinu Tam to avoid these and other issues. However, he ended up with a conceptual approach to Rabbeinu Tam as well as a personal chumrah, which is almost unheard of in the halakhic literature and widely divergent from practice. However, given that this is an area with a long tradition of practice, great poskim, of which R. Feinstein is a unique example, exhibit an impeccable sense (In addition to or perhaps as a result of siyatta di’shemaya.) that guides them in how to decide. I remain struck by the accuracy of the psakim, independent of their problematic rationale. Let us reexamine the five decisions and how they might be alternatively justified:

1. Shabbat ends 50 minutes after sunset in the New York area. Despite this not being the conceptual opinion of Rabbeinu Tam, as R. Feinstein assumes, it is precisely the opinion of the geonim as calculated by R. Yechial Michal Tukitzinsky, the first major contemporary figure to write extensively on this topic combining knowledge of both halakha and astronomy. (R. Belsky’s (re)interpretation of R. Feinstein makes this correspondence precise. See the commentary supporting the www.myzmanim.com website.)
2. One can pray as early as 90 minutes before sunrise in special circumstances. A latitude and seasonal adjustment of 90 minutes provides a basis for yet greater leniency. Beyond the reliance on a 22.5 minute mil, 90 minutes in New York is close to both the scientific point of first light (approximately 90 to 120 minutes), and, more importantly, a latitude/season adjusted 72 minutes (approximately 80 to 110 minutes). The fact that R. Feinstein was willing to rule so differently on the end of the Shabbat and alot hashachar aligns with tradition, albeit in conflict with the conceptual viewpoint of Rabbeinu Tam.
3. Perform a brit the following week on Wednesday, for example, for a baby born late Wednesday afternoon until 9 minutes after sunset. Clearly, this psak is in perfect alignment with the views developed and similar to the tradition of Jerusalem over the generations that assumed that a baby born a few minutes after sunset has his brit on the same day the following week. (See Minhagei Eretz Yisrael by R. Yaakov Gliss, pages 102 and 282 who mentions 4 – 5 minutes and Zemanim Kehilkhatam by R. Boorstyn, chapter 2, section 1, footnote 7, who claims that R. Shmuel Salant, would rule that a baby born after sunset but before the call of the mugrab, seven to ten minutes after sunset, has his brit on the same day the following week.) Even rejecting Rabbeinu Tam’s late end of Shabbat based on the overwhelming arguments of the Gaon and others, a start to a day a few minutes after sunset is supported by generations of practice. Even R. Feinstein’s reliance on Rabbeinu Tam for a slightly delayed beginning to bein hashemashot is often rejected.
4. Allow specific activities forbidden only at a rabbinic level on the Shabbat until 40 minutes after sunset. Perhaps the most challenging given the undisputed assumption that the gemara meant bein hashemashot to extend back from three medium stars (a depression angle of about 6 degrees) versus R. Feinstein’s roughly 8.5 degrees and R. Feinstein’s use of a “truncated / adjusted” 9.375 minutes to walk ¾ mil. Nonetheless, being exceedingly liberal with respect to a rabbinic prohibition, especially, in the face of need, has a long tradition. Unfortunately, in most, if not all seasons of the year, 40 minutes after sunset, is well past the point of chashekha, in the New York area.
5. Chatzot is always at the same time. As with R. Feinstein’s 50 minutes, there is a need for seasonal adjustment. It appears, like a number of Rabbis who oppose this type of complexity in psak, R. Feinstein’s tradition was to use a single time.

On the first three rulings, R. Feinstein’s psak can be easily justified on other grounds. The last two are somewhat less critical and more problematic. However, it is often dangerous for Rabbis to apply or extend elements of R. Feinstein’s logic to other areas where zemanim are critical without his innate sense of psak.

Final Comments:

This monograph was intended to address seminal issues relevant to bein hashemashot without covering in depth many important sub-topics. Hopefully, the approach and observations will make this vast literature easier to study. While I did not want to address explicitly either philosophic issues or practical issues of psak, I suspect that my personal opinions on both are clear. I was strongly motivated to defend minhag Yisroel, a mimetic tradition that for many centuries, even until the Second World War, relied on the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam in many parts of Europe.

As I studied this topic, I was repeatedly revisiting three issues:

 If in ancient times, sunset, a very easily identified occurrence, was considered the precise starting time for Shabbat, how could it have ever been forgotten and / or abandoned? If Shabbat started sometime after sunset, then the position of Rabbeinu Tam and an overwhelming number of rishonim is more plausible. As Jews migrated northward, the required beginning to Shabbat separated even further from sunset, particularly if bein hashemashot was thought to have an unchanging maximum length – the time to walk ¾ of a mil.

 If observation challenged only Rabbeinu Tam’s opinion while leaving the approach of the geonim free of any issues, why did major figures living in southern Europe and even the Middle East, including Ramban and (likely) R. Yosef Caro, adhere to Rabbeinu Tam’s opinion?

 How could generations of practice that relied on the opinion of Rabbeinu Tam or some related variant be so easily discounted? In my mind, the modern bias to treat sunset as a given (and reject even R. Feinstein’s limited reliance on the position of Rabbeinu Tam) is unwarranted.

I hope that what I have written, at least partially, addresses these questions.

The approach developed posits that bein hashemashot begins after sunset, later than many assume, while its end is somewhat earlier than current practice. (R. Y. C. Sonnenfeld’s tshuva 33 (an approbation to a sefer on zemanim) on this topic is remarkably supportive. While speculating that we may have to wait for Elijah to defend the fundamental difficulties with Rabbeinu Tam’s end to bein hashemashot and Shabbat, he raises issues with the approach of the Gaon as to the beginning of bein hashemashot from texts of gemara that imply that the day extends past sunset. While suggesting that we follow both chumrot and stating a personal preference not to attempt to decide on a matter so long in dispute, he expresses hope that this will be clarified one day. I believe that I have taken a step in that direction. In any case, regardless of his suggested practice, like this monograph he raises issues with both the end time of Rabbeinu Tam and the start time of the geonim. While R. Sonnenfeld suggests that one adopt the stringencies of both positions, the approach developed and generations of practice often made use of the leniencies of a hybrid approach.) While some will contend that the criticism, suggested innovations, and conclusions do not exhibit sufficient deference to recent generations of psak, I hope that this monograph demonstrates a commitment to integrity, clarity, simplicity, consistency with basic astronomic observations, faithfulness to basic texts and respect for generations of halakhic insights and in particular, practice.

In summary, a fulsome defense for a later start to Shabbat is anchored on three points:

1. Mishetishkeh hakhamah refers to a point after sunset.

2. The time to walk ¾ of a mil is the maximum length of bein hashemashot not the minimum.

3. When applying the gemara’s interval of bein hashemashot to other locations, its length need not be extended.

The first is the preferred reading of the gemara in Shabbat according to most rishonim. The second is strongly supported by simple logic and arguably by the statement of Shmuel, though certainly at variance with the prevalent contemporary interpretation. The third is clearly debatable, but the viewpoint of some major poskim. All three are needed to defend fully historical practice. However, even the first, or certainly the first two points, should influence contemporary psak in extenuating circumstances.

Those familiar with R. Kapach’s approach to Rambam throughout Mishnah Torah, will recognize that his conclusions as to Rambam’s position on the twilight period and much of this monograph are consistent. While R. Kapach’s approach tacitly assumed stars, as opposed to darkness, as defining both the beginning and the end of bein hashemashot, something I believe that Rambam did not support, R. Kapach’s practical conclusions and insights into Rambam aligns Rambam across Mishnah Torah closely with the ideas that have been developed. (1. R. Kapach also insists on bein hashemashot beginning at 15 minutes after sunset, something we are not convinced that Rambam necessarily maintained. 2. As has been mentioned previously, objections to the approach of the geonim derive from sugyot where sunset does not appear to be a precise delimiter. Similarly, despite Rambam’s clear identification with the position of the geonim, some try to align his position with Rabbeinu Tam based on the fact that he did not consider sunset as critical as many assumed that an approach like that of the geonim had to maintain. As has been argued throughout this monograph, the “either-or” assumption of either Rabbeinu Tam or the geonim, without intermediate positions is an assumption that I find neither conclusive nor correct. 3. Building on R. Kapach’s approach, a future paper will attempt to demonstrate that Rambam maintained a hybrid / intermediate position, similar to the position of the geonim, consistent with the text of the gemara, astronomic observation and supportive of the approach taken in this monograph.)

It should also be clear, that while their rationales were entirely different, many poskim who in practice followed R. Pimential’s approach supported a position akin to what has been suggested throughout the monograph. In practice, they allowed work after sunset proper and awaited only three (small) stars, not a full 72 minutes. As well, they would never allow work on Friday, anywhere near as late as Rabbeinu Tam’s conceptual position would suggest.

Both the practice suggested by these poskim and R. Kapach’s interpretation of Rambam conceptually aligns with the approach developed throughout this monograph.

Clearly, in the study of zemanim, one has to “look up” as well as “look in.” Over the last few hundred years, careful observation of the skies has often been replaced with a fixation on time and timepieces. This contributed a false sense of accuracy as opposed to enhanced clarity to an already complex area.




Hebrew Dictionaries

The post below focuses on R. Elijah haBahor’s dictionary- Sefer haTishbi. There are, however, numerous other Hebrew Dictionaries. R. Elijah haBahor himself wrote another focusing on Aramic words from the Targuimim, titled Sefer haMiturgumin. The most complete exposition on Hebrew Dictionaries is Shimeon Brisman’s “A History and Guide to Judaic Dictionaries and Concordances.” While the title indicates it also discusses Concordances, in truth, there is a second volume, not yet published, that focuses on those. This volume, however, is devoted to the history of the Hebrew Dictionary. While Brisman does a very good job of giving a very good overview, at times, I found the book somewhat lacking. He focuses much of his attention on the bibliographical details which causes the content to suffer.

Perhaps the most well-known dictionary to students’ of the Talmud is Marcus Jastrow’s dictionary. While recently there have been a few dictionaries that claim to be comprehensive dictionaries of the Talmud for the English reader, Jastrow’s is still king. The University of Pennsylvania has now posted online a permanent exhibit on Jastrow as well as on Hebrew Dictionaries. The exhibit has reproduced many of the title pages and given brief histories on many of the most important Hebrew Dictionaries.

Perhaps one of the more interesting dictionary was done by a Jew who converted to Christianity. Philippe d’Aquin (originally Mordechi) wrote a commentary on the famed dictionary of R. Nathan of Rome – the Arukh. His commentary, Marikh haMarkhot was published just once (you can see the title page here) . His commentary was not that novel, most of it was “borrowed” from earlier commentaries on the Arukh. R. Yosef Toemim, author of the Peri Megadim, states that the commentary that one should use when studying the Arukh is Marikh haMarkhot -the commentary d’Aquin. [There is no other commentary by that name, nor is the fact that the author was a non-Jew hidden. On the title page it states that the author is a professor of Hebrew at the University of Paris.]




The First Artichoke Controversy of 2012

The First Artichoke Controversy of 2012
By Leor Jacobi
Recently a kashrut controversy surrounding traditional Italian fried artichokes has received major media coverage in the New York Times and the Seforim Blog (twice, in chronological order, not order of importance).  In order to prove the antiquity of Jewish artichoke consumption, depictions of artichokes in medieval illuminated haggadot have been adduced. These were the topic of a lesser-known artichoke controversy in 2012 here in the comments section of the Seforim Blog, which can be as nasty and difficult to find as artichoke bugs.
The Controversy: Do Catalonian medieval Haggadot portray maror as an artichoke? Were artichokes actually consumed in fulfillment of the rabbinic requirement to consume bitter herbs found in the Mishnah and Tosefta?
“Brother Haggadah”, BL Oriental 1404, f. 18
Here’s the story behind the scenes as it occurred in real time, during the Pessah season of 2012. I was scheduled to deliver a talk on chrayn at a rabbinic conference on the Hebrew language organized by Yitzhak Frank on April 10, Chol ha-Moed Pessah. In the course of some late preparatory research (= Googling) on April 5 (13 Nissan, the day of bedikat chametz) I came across a fascinating responsum on maror by David Golinkin that had just been published on April 2, 2012.  Struck by the reliance on visual evidence from illustrated manuscripts in establishing a medieval custom to consume artichokes as maror, I sent the post to Marc Michael Epstein of Vassar College for comment. Within an hour he replied:
I don’t believe the Sephardic mss show an artichoke, rather they depict an entire head of romaine lettuce. The way to prove or disprove this would be to compare contemporary or roughly contemporary botanical mss.
I immediately began “intensive research” (= more Googling) and discovered that the artichoke question was (probably first) posed by Yoel Finkelman and his parents in 2005. Significantly, they already collected the three examples cited by Golinkin: the RylandsBrother, and Sarajevo Haggadot. Finkelman states that his father circulated the query widely.
Rylands Haggadah, 1988 facsimile edition, f. 31v
The next day, April 6, Erev Pessah, I emailed Golinkin directly, requesting sources for his identifications. He replied on the same day that artichokes are definitely depicted in the three illuminated haggadot and that artichokes were probably identified as one of the five plant species mentioned in the Mishnah (Pesahim 2:6). Indeed, in Golinkin’s own post of April 2:
Rabbi Natan ben Yehiel of Rome (1035-ca. 1110) says in his Talmudic dictionary  (ed. Kohut, Vol. 8, p. 245) that tamkha is cardo, which is cardoon. Prof. Feliks says that this is carduus argentatus or silver thistle, while Dr. Schaffer says that it is cynara cardunculus or artichoke thistle.
Cardoon Artichoke Thistle. a painting by Elizabeth H Tudor
So, textual and visual evidence interlock to support the conclusion that artichokes were used as Maror. However, the textual evidence is weak. Sefer Ha’arukh is a dictionary, not a responsum, a legal code or a gloss to one, like Hagahot Maimoniyot which identifies tamkha as horseradish – chrayn, associated with an actual custom. The definition of Ha’arukh is not a singular, definitive identification  (yesh ‘omrimmarrobio, another species, also Rashi’s identification), and according to Prof. Jehudah Feliks cardo does not describe artichokes at all.
Opposite this scanty textual evidence stands a mountain of Rabbinic silence. As far as I am aware, nowhere in any codes, Haggadas, commentaries, or anywhere else do we find even a hint that artichokes were ever used as maror. There are limits to what can be learned ex silentio but we are discussing thousands of sources. If artichokes were used, we would expect a mention somewhere.
As for the visual information, we have “two witnesses and three witnesses”: The Rylands and Brother Haggadahs should be considered one witness because one is copied from the other. Bezalel Narkiss designated the name “The Brother Haggadah” (along with a lot of other names of Haggadah, most of which have stuck, for better or worse) because it is the “brother” copied from the Rylands Haggadah. According to Katrin Kogman-Appel, the Brother was more likely the original from which the Rylands was copied. For our purposes, the direction of the copying makes no difference. Just as the Rosh and Tur can’t really be counted as two legal authorities, these two sources are reflections of one another. What about the other witness, the Sarajevo Haggadah?
I do not think that there is even a remote possibility that the Sarajevo Haggadah depicts an artichoke:
The leaves are ridged but all species of artichoke leaves are smooth save for the thorn in the middle. An artist whose intention was to depict artichokes would not draw them in this manner. Moreover, Epstein, (in personal correspondence) adds that the “artichoke” leaves are “veined” like lettuce leaves, and bound together with a cord at the base.
Israeli Artichoke, Photo: Leor Jacobi, April 20, 2012
The same day, April 6, Erev Pessah, I communicated my skepticism back to Golinkin, especially regarding the depiction in the Sarajevo Haggadah.  Golinkin’s April 2 post had already inspired creative contemporary midrash by April 9 (the truth of which in revealing hidden aspects of the divine plan should be judged independently of the historical claims.) Clearly these progressive folk placed artichokes on their seder plate on seder night, April 6 or 7, 2012, and were already expounding homiletically on the custom they had only learned about on April 2 at the earliest. Epstein notes that this an excellent example in “real time” of a minhag in development thanks to what he calls “the heter of the Internet.”
I gave the Chrayn talk on April 10 and the very next day, April 11, a long and fascinating Seforim blog post by Dan Rabinowitz was published, wherein, inter alia, he stated:
In the Brother to the Rylands Haggadah, marror is depicted as an artichoke, as is in the case with the Sarajevo Haggadah.
Golinkin wasn’t cited but it’s doubtful that his April 2 post is the source —  perhaps serendipity. After some discussion in the comments, Marc Epstein wrote:
Rabbosai (and Marasai): A manuscript is NOT a mirror. Jews depict themselves in their art (or commission art that depicts them) not as they were, but as they desired to be seen. Please please please do not engage in the typical Wissenschaft strategy of looking at illuminated manuscripts for “clues to Jewish life in the Middle Ages” or even to Jewish history. What we can learn from them is histoire des Mentalites, but even that takes a lot of work to get to.
Re: the “artichoke”: I don’t believe the Sephardic mss show an artichoke, rather they depict an entire head of romaine lettuce. The way to prove or disprove this would be to compare contemporary or roughly contemporary botanical mss. It may have been “misunderstood” by some illuminators as an artichoke, but not corrected by the recipients of the manuscript because if you are not looking for an artichoke it seems totally absurd that an artichoke would be used as maror, You don’t SEE an artichoke, but a head of Romaine lettuce, no matter how “artichoke-like” it seems to us in 5772.
Also, because a head of Romaine is SHOWN in the haggadah it doesn’t mean that there a head of (possible unchecked-for-bugs) Romaine on the table. Every image is not a snapshot, but a representation — a combination of the real, the general, the ideal and the symbolic. Showing the head is a way of REPRESENTING Romaine — it says, “We use a type of lettuce that grows with leaves together in a head like this.” It does NOT necessarily mean “We use complete heads of Romaine at the Seder, like this.” Do you see the difference? A representation must shorthand its descriptions for clarity: If you showed individual artichoke leaves, for instance, it would be difficult to ascertain that the plant was an artichoke. Artichoke leaves are shaped like baby spinach leaves, though baby spinach is more pliable. If a leaf of that shape was shown, what would distinguish the artichoke leaves? Showing an artichoke in its entire, thistly configuration makes it indisputable that it is an artichoke.
Epstein’s points are compelling. How does one portray lettuce in an illustration? For example, this modern lettuce clip-art isn’t much more lettuce-like than the illustration in the Brother Haggadah:
After Pessah, on April 22, I received an additional reply from Golinkin with more sources. The entry for maror in the first edition of Encyclopedia Judaica was written by Jehudah Feliks (pp. 1014-5). The entry includes an image of the maror depiction from the Sarajevo Haggadah with a caption:
According to this astounding caption, lettuce is depicted in the Sarajevo Haggadah but the claim is that it can still be supposed that the artichoke-like shape of the lettuce reflects an old custom of eating artichokes as maror. This custom had already been lost in the 14th century, but was preserved in the form of illustrations of maror in haggadot! (We find something similar in the illustrations of maror in the Prague Haggadah. According to Rav Peles, the custom of pointing at the wife when stating “this bitter[ness/Bitter Herb]” had already disappeared, but was preserved in the caption to themaror illustration in the Haggadah; see also here). However, note that above, in Golinkin’s post, Feliks did not identify the Arukh’s cardo as artichokes. It is not entirely clear that Feliks composed this caption. Bezalel Narkiss served as IIlustrations Consultant on the first edition (sadly most illustrations were cut from the second edition, including this one and the caption).
As Narkiss was then the acknowledged expert in medieval illuminated manuscripts, it stands to reason that he may have either selected the illustration or wrote the caption, either alone or in consultaion with Feliks. In any case, the author(s) of the caption maintain that lettuce is depicted even if the rest of their proposal is extremely speculative.
For the Rylands Haggadah, Golinkin cited the Raphael Loewe facsimile, Steimatzky, 1988: “The bitter herb is intended to be lettuce, despite its artichoke-like compactness.”  This pithy source contradicts Golinkin’s identification, and suggests a practical explanation for this lettuce design.
As for the Brother Haggadah, Golinkin wrote that he learned about this from an expert on Jewish art. However, as far as I can tell this expert does not deal primarily with interpretation of medieval art. Theories are tested by evidence. Thus, it remains that if someone wishes to argue that these images depict artichokes the best way to advance the thesis would be by means of comparisons with contemporary illustrations of artichokes, as Marc Epstein advises.
Finally, an image of maror from the Barcelona Haggadah, folio 62, illustrates how creative illustrations of lettuce (?) could get and how dangerous it would be to try to learn history from them as if they were snapshots.
Adapted from Evelyn Cohen’s description in the facsimile volume:
Verso, The scribe left almost the whole of the page for a depiction of the bitter herbs, but the crude illustration we now see was not executed in the Middle Ages, although it may have been based on models from the fourteenth century. The vegetable, commonly portrayed in a highly stylized manner, was no longer understandable to the later artist, and the red holder with which it is sometimes shown seems to have been misunderstood by the artist, who interpreted it as a red crescent.
The post-medieval illustrator here may have utilized haggadah depictions of artichoky lettuce as a model and was probably as bewildered by them as we are.  In note 39 Cohen lists the Hispano-Moresque, Graziano, Golden, and Sister Haggadas as displaying maror holders. The matzot in these haggadot look nothing like real matzot, with elaborate color and geometric designs. The entire maror holder could be a design element in this vein, so that the maror is grounded and not floating in space.
Graziano Haggadah
Sister Haggadah
‘Hispano-Moresque’ Haggadah
Golden Haggadah
Epstein adds (personal correspondence) that we should be wary of concluding on the basis of these images that Jews of Medieval Spain had actual red maror holders. They may have developed from an earlier model like the Golden Haggadah, which only meant to portray a reddish-yellow color which develops towards the base:
I certainly hope enterprising Judaica forgers, the creators of “Marrano cups” and such don’t get wind of this, or appraisers, experts and curators will have a whole new wave of fake “authentic” pre-Expulsion Sephardi ritual items to deal with. Indeed Romaine lettuce is most suitable for maror because it generates increasing bitterness the longer one chews the leaves, and the closer one gets to that all-important base. Romaine is appropriate for maror in metaphoric terms: like the servitude in Egypt, which started out as a “public works” project with the full participation even of Pharaoh, and ended up as the most abject of slavery, a torture inflicted exclusively upon the Israelites. When one first begins to chew the leaves Romaine lettuce, one could think one was eating a lovely salad. More chewing, and getting eventually to the lower “spine,” however, makes the experience increasingly bitter. The rabbis understood that unlike the consistent blast of heat one experiences with horseradish and other truly bitter plants, it is in the initially non-bitter, even pleasant, but then the increasing nature of the bitterness of Romaine that the precise metaphor for the Egyptian servitude is experienced.
It is notable that per Kogman Appel’s dating, the Golden Haggadah is earlier (c. 1320) than some of the examples brought above (c. 1350-), and may have served as their model in some sense, including the fact that whatever we are seeing, (whether the “veins” in a single lettuce leaf, or the ruffled leaves in the head when cut open and depicted laterally, like the Chinese cabbage shown below,) gives the leaf/leaves a  “spiky” appearance. (If there is a lateral view here, the question, of course, is why such a view was taken. Most authorities prefer whole Romaine leaves for maror, so a view “cutting through” the head might be confusing, although some advocate the consumption of only, or primarily the spines.)
The more I think about it, although links and distinctions have been made between the opening sequence of biblical narrative illuminations in the Golden, Sister and Sarajevo Haggadot and the Rylands/Brother Haggadot, the TEXT illustrations (matzahmaror etc.) may have more mutual influence and cross-influence, and relate also to those in the Barcelona Haggadah and others. Since the GH was earlier than the Sarajevo, Rylands/Brother Haggadot, the image of the maror there, clearly— though stylized—Romaine may have influenced, been misunderstood by the artists of the later ms. In other words, the veiny (or the lateral, or side-viewed, rippling) leaves of Romaine could have been mistaken for the “spiky” leaves of an artichoke and thus been illustrated. (The Sarajevo artist, for instance, depicted the “artichoke” leaves not only as serrated but with “veins” more typical of lettuce.)
The Sarajevo, Rylands/Brother ARTISTS  misunderstanding the [veined single lettuce leaf or laterally viewed or cut head of] lettuce in the Golden Haggadah or a similar model, might have thought they were illustrating an artichoke. The PATRONS did not “correct” this because OBVIOUSLY the vegetable could not have been an artichoke as there was no massoret of the use of that vegetable for maror. There for they accepted the “artichoke” of the artists as the “lettuce” of halakhah.
While we can never recover the actual conversation that precipitated the visual result, both consideration of the near-instantaneous creation via “the heter of the Internet” of the minhag of placing artichokes on the seder plate, and the spinning of homiletics around that minhag;  and the invention of the “maror holder”are reflections—within our present conversation!—of the kinds of transmission problems ever present in such conversations in any time or place. This whole adventure has, for me, been very important in thinking about artist-patron relationships.
Cohen adds an interesting point (personal correspondence):
I found other manuscripts where there was a blank space where the image of the maror should have been placed, while all the other areas left blank by the scribe contained illustrations. This lead me to believe that the appearance of the maror was sometimes customized based on the minhag of the patron, who for whatever reason never had it added.
These are fascinating questions. The goal of the artists was to produce art which resonated with their patrons symbolically and aesthetically. By misinterpreting these images as snapshots of historical reality, we can invent artichokes and maror holders. One could just as well conclude that it was customary to only sit on one side of the Seder table!
Fast forward to May, 2018, we find ourselves embroiled in a new artichoke controversy and the Seforim Blog is back with artichokes in the Haggadah. This is a fascinating little post on kashrut and custom, but nothing about ancient or medieval practices can be proven from these sources. A follow-up post based on textual sources by Susan Weingarten, an expert on foods in antiquity (and incidentally, the sister of Elihu Shanun, who also spoke at the rabbinic conference on April 10, 2012 which started us off) provides a much more reliable textual path towards establishing the antiquity of artichoke consumption.
In summary, there is no evidence that Jews ever ate artichokes to fulfill the obligation of consuming maror on the Passover Eve. Maybe b’shas hadahak, but who knows? The textual evidence and visual evidence don’t support each other to advance a radical historical claim. However, artichokes are delicious and, if clean, Kosher for Pessah. Jews very likely did consume them historically wherever they were found.
Thanks to: Marc Epstein, David Golinkin, Evelyn Cohen, Sara Offenberg, Moshe Glass, and Jean Guetta. I also wish to acknowledge the Memorial Foundation for Jewish Culture for their support.



Benefits of the Internet: Besamim Rosh and its History

Benefits of the Internet: Besamim Rosh and its History
By: Dan Rabinowitz & Eliezer Brodt
    In a new series we wanted to highlight how much important material is now available online.  This, first post, illustrates the proliferation of online materials with regard to the controversy surrounding the work Besamim Rosh (“BR”). 

[We must note at the outset that recently a program has been designed by Moshe Koppel which enables one, via various mathematical algorithims, to identify documents authored by the same author. We hope, using this program, to provide a future update that will show what this program can demonstrate regarding the authorship of the BR and if indeed the Rosh authored these responsa.]

Background

    Before turning to the BR and discussing its history we need to first discuss another work.  R. Raphael Cohen the chief rabbi of triple community, Altona-Hamburg-Wansbeck (“AH”W”), [1] published a book, Torat Yekuseil, Amsterdam, 1772 regarding the laws of Yoreh DeahTorat Yekuseil is a standard commentary and is unremarkable when compared to other works of this genre.  While the book is unremarkable in and of itself, what followed is rather remarkable. 

    Some years later, in 1789, a work with the putative author listed listed as Ovadiah bar Barukh and titled Mitzpeh Yokteil [2] was published to counter R. Raphael Cohen’s Torat Yekuseil (“TY”)Mitzpeh Yokteil (“MY”), was a vicious attack both against the work TY as well as its author, R. Raphael Cohen.  R. Raphael Cohen was a well-known and well-respected Rabbi. In fact, he was the Chief Rabbi of the triple community of AH”W.  The attack against him and his work did not go unanswered.  Indeed, the beit din of Altona-Wansbeck placed the putative author, Ovadiah, and his work, under a ban.

    The Altona-Wansbeck beit din could not limit the ban to just Altona-Wansbeck as the attack in the MY was intended to embarrass R. Raphael Cohen across Europe.  Indeed, the end of the introduction to MY indicates that copies were sent to a list of thirteen prominent rabbis across Europe.  Specifically, copies were sent to the Chief Rabbis of Prague, Amsterdam, Frankfort A.M., Hanover, Bresslau, Gloga, Lissa, etc., “as well as The Universally Know Goan haHassid  R. Eliyahu from Vilna.”  Thus, the intent of the book was to diminish R. Raphael Cohen’s standing amongst his peers. 

    The Altona-Wansbeck beit din, recognizing the intent of the book, appealed to other cities courts to similarly ban the author and book MY – the ban, entitled, Pesak mi-Beit Din Tzedek, the only known extant copy was recently sold at Sotheby’s (Important Judaica, Nov. 24, 2009, lot 136).[3]
 

 
These concerns lead the ban’s proponents to the Chief Rabbi of Berlin, R. Tzvi Hirsch Berlin, and to solicit him to join the ban. Initially, it appeared that R. Tzvi Hirsch would go along with the ban.  But, as he was nearing deciding in favor of signing the ban, someone whispered in his ear the verse in Kings 2, 6:5, אהה אדני והוא שאול – which R. Tzvi Hirsch understood to be a play on the word “שאול” in the context of the verse meaning borrow, but, in this case, to be a reference to his son, Saul. That is, the real author of MY was Saul Berlin, Tzvi Hirsch’s son.  Needless to say, R. Tzvi Hirsch did not sign the ban. [4]

    Not only did he not sign the ban, he also came to his son’s defense.  Aside from the various bans that were issued, a small pamphlet of ten pages, lacking a title page, was printed against MY and Saul. [5]  Saul decided that he must respond to these attacks.  He published Teshuvot ha-Rav. . . Saul le-haRav [] Moshe  Yetz,[6] which also includes a responsum from R. Tzvi Hirsch, Saul’s father.  Saul defends himself arguing that rabbinic disagreement, in very strong terms, has a long history.  Thus, a ban is wholly inappropriate in the present case. 

    R. Tzvi Hirsch explained that while MY disagreed with R. Cohen, there is nothing wrong with doing so.  The author of MY, as a rabbi – Saul was, at the time, Chief Rabbi of Frankfort – Saul is entitled to disagree with other rabbis.  Of course, Saul’s name is never explicitly mentioned. Moreover, in the course of R. Tzvi Hirsch’s defense he solicits the opinions of other rabbis, including R. Ezekiel Landau.  R. Landau, as well as others, noted that aside from the propriety of disagreement within Judaism, the power of any one particular beit din is limited by geography.  Thus, the Altona-Wansbeck’s beit din‘s power is limited to placing residents of Hamburg under a ban but not residents of Berlin, including R. Saul Berlin, the author of MY.[7]

    The controversy surrounding the MY was not limited to Jewish audiences. The theater critic, H.W. Seyfried, published in his German newspaper, Chronik von Berlin, translations of the relevant documents and provided updates on the controversy.  Seyfried agitated on behalf of the maskilim and editorlized that the Danish government should take actions against R. Cohen. It appears, however, that Seyfried’s pleas were not acted upon.[8] 

The Publication of Besamim Rosh


    With this background in mind, we can now turn to the Besamim Rosh.  Prior to publishing the full BR, in 1792, Saul Berlin published examples of the responsa and commentary found in the BR – a prospectus, Arugat ha-Bosem.  This small work whose purpose was to solicit subscribers for the ultimate publication of BR. It appears that while Saul may have been trying for significant rabbinic support, the majority of his sponsors were householders. 

    In 1793, the BR was published.  The BR contains 392 responsa (besamim equals 392) from either R. Asher b. Yeheil (Rosh) (1259-1327) or his contemporaries.  This manuscript belonged to R. Yitzhak di Molina who lived during the same time period as R. Yosef Karo, the author of Shulchan Orakh.  Additionally, Saul appended a commentary of his own to these responsa, Kasa de-Harshana

    The BR contains two approbations, one from R. Tzvi Hirsch Berlin and the other from R. Yehezkel Landau.  R. Landau’s approbation first explains that Rosh’s responsa need no approbation.  With regard to R. Saul Berlin’s commentary, he too doesn’t need an approbation according to R. Landau.  This is so because R. Saul’s reputation is well-known.  R. Landau’s rationale, R. Saul’s fame, appears a bit odd in light of the fact that among some (many?) R. Saul’s reputation was very poor due to the MY. 

    R. Tzvi Hirsch’s approbation also contains an interesting assertion. Saul’s father explains that this book should put to rest any lingering question regarding his son.    

    In addition to the approbations there are two introductions, one from di Molina and the other from Saul. Di Molina explained the tortured journey of the manuscript. He explains that, while in Alexandria, he saw a pile of manuscripts that contained many responsa from Rosh that had never before been published. He culled the unpublished ones and copied and collected them in this collection.  What is worthy of noting is that throughout the introduction di Molina repeatedly asks “how does the reader know these responsa are genuinely from Rosh.” 

    R. Saul, in his introduction, first notes that the concept of including introductions is an invention long after Rosh, and is not found amongst any of the Rishonim. 

    As mentioned previously, the BR is a collection of 392 responsa mostly from Rosh or his contemporaries.  Additionally, R. Saul wrote his own commentary on these responsa, Kasa diHarshena. [9]  This commentary would contain the first problem for Saul and the BR.  In responsum 40, Rosh discusses the position of Rabbenu Tam with regard to shaving during the intermediate days (ho ha-moad).  While Rosh ultimately concludes that one is prohibited from shaving on hol ha-moad, R. Saul, in his commentary, however, concludes that shaving on hol ha-moad is permissible.  In so holding, R. Saul recognized that this position disagreed with that of his father.  Almost immediately after publication, R. Saul printed a retraction regarding this position allowing for shaving on hol ha-mo’ad.  This retraction, Mo’dah Rabba, explains that Saul failed to apprise his father of this position and, as Saul’s father still stands behind his negative position, Saul therefore retracts his lenient position. [Historically, this is not the only time a father and son disagreed about shaving on hol ha-moad.  R. Yitzhak Shmuel Reggio (YaSHaR)and his father, Abraham, disagreed on the topic as well.  As was the case with Saul and his father, the son, YaSHaR took the lenient position and his father the stringent.  Not only did they disagree, after YaSHaR published his book explaining his theory, his father attacked him in an anonymous response.  For more on this controversy see Meir Benayahu, Shaving on the Intermediary Days of the Festival, Jerusalem, 1995.] 

    This retraction, while may be interperated as evidence of Saul humbleness in his willingness to admit error and not stand on ceremony, others used this retraction against him.  The first work published that questioned the legitimacy of BR is Ze’ev Yetrof, Frankfort d’Oder, 1793, by R. Ze’ev Wolf son of Shlomo Zalman.  (This book is very rare and, to my knowledge, is not online.  Although not online, a copy is available in microfiche as part of the collection of books from the JTS Library, and on Otzar Hachomah see below)  The author explains that eight responsa in BR are problematic because they reach conclusion that appear to run counter to accepted halahik norms. In addition, the author states in his introduction, “that already we see that there is something fishy as it is known that the author [Saul Berlin] has retracted his position regarding shaving.” It should be noted that no where does R. Ze’ev Wolf challenge the authenticity of the manuscript for internal reasons – it is incorrectly dated, incorrectly attributed etc.  Apparently, Ze’ev Yetrof, was not well-known as it is not cited by other contemporaries who too doubted the authenticity of BR.  Samat theorizes that either wasn’t printed until later or, was destroyed.[10]  

    The second person to question the legitimacy of BR was R. Rafael Hamburg’s mechutan, R. Ya’akov Katzenellenbogen.  In particular, he wrote to R. Cohen’s student, R. Mordechai Benat. As was the case with Wolf, R. Katzenellenbogen located 13 responsa where he disagreed with the conclusions.  R. Katzenellenbogen indicated that R. Benet shold review the BR himself and apprise R. Katzenellenbogen regarding R. Benet’s conclusions. 

    R. Katzenellenbogen also wrote to Saul’s father, Tzvi Hirsch, and Tzvi Hirsch eventually responded in a small pamphlet.  R. Tzvi Hirsch first deals with the predicate question, is the manuscript legitimate. That is, prior to discussing the conclusions of particular responsum, regarding the manuscript, R. Tzvi Hirsch testifies that he is intimately familiar with this manuscript. He explains that for 11 years, the manuscript was in his house.  In fact, R. Tzvi Hirsch created the index that appears in BR from this manuscript.  Additionally, he had his other son Hirschel (eventual Chief Rabbi of London) copy the manuscript for publication.  Thus, R. Tzvi Hirsch argues that should put to rest any doubt regarding the authenticity of the manuscript.

    R. Tzvi Hirsch then turns to the issue regarding conclusions of some of the responsa. He first notes, that at most, there are a but a small number of questionable responsa.  Indeed, it is at most approximately 5% of the total responsa in BR.  That is, no one questions 95% of the responsa (at least not then).  Second, with regard to the conclusions themselves, that some conclusions are different than the halahik norms, that can be found in numerous books, none of which anyone questions their authenticity.  Thus, conclusions prove nothing.

Leaving the history and turning to the content of BR.  One of the more controversial responsa is the one discussing suicide.  In particular, according to the responsum attributed to Rosh, the historic practices that were applied to a suicide – lack of Jewish burial, no mourning customs – are not applicable any longer.  This is so, because suicides can be attributed to the poor conditions of the Jews and not philosophical reasons.  Thus, we can attribute the motivations of a suicide to depression and remove the restrictions that applied to suicides. 

    This responsum was what lead some, including R. Moshe Sofer (Hatam Sofer), to conclude that the entire BR was a forgery.  Indeed, this responsum was one of the two that were removed in the second edition.  Others, however, point out this responsum and its conclusions are not in any conflict with any accepted halakhic norms.  And, instead, while providing new insight into the current motivations of a suicide, the ultimate conclusion can be reconciled with all relevant laws.  [11]  

This particular example illustrates the problematic nature of merely relying upon a particular conclusion to demonstrate the authenticity or lack thereof of a work. Although R. Sofer was certain this responsum ran counter to a statement of the Talmud, others were easily able to reconcile the Talmudic statement with the conclusion of the responsum.

    Another controversial responsa deals with someone who is stuck on the highway as the Shabbat is fast approaching.  The traveler is thus faced with the following dilemma, stop in a city where he will require the charity of strangers or continue on and get home.  The BR rules that the traveller can continue and is not required to resort to charity.  This, like the responum above, was similarly removed from the second edition. These are the only two responsa removed from the second edition.  Of course, this removal isn’t noted anywhere except that the numbers skip over those two.  In fact, the index retains the listing for the two responsa. 

    Other controversial responsa include one dealing with belief in the afterlife and messianic era, kitnoyot – BR would abolish the custom, and issues relating to mikvah. 

Today, common practice regarding suicide appears, for the most part, to conform with the position of BR.

Status Today

    After its publication in 1793, it would be almost one hundred years before the BR would be reprinted.  In 1881, the BR was reprinted in Cracow.  This edition was published by “the well-known Rabbi Yosef Lazer from Tarnow'” R. Lazer’s was part of a well-known Hassidic family.  His grandfather, R. Menachem Mendel Lazer was the author of Sova Semochot, Zolkiov, 1845.[12] It appears that the BR was the only controversial book that R. Yosef Lazer published.  Although he published approximately 30 books, the are mainly run-of-the mill works, Machzorim, haggadot, as well as some standard rabbinic works. It is unclear what prompted R. Lazer to republish the BR.  Lazer provides no explanation.  Although Lazer’s publishing activities are difficult to reconcile with his publication of the BR, the printers, Yosef Fischer and Saul Deutscher, other publications indicate that they were more open to printing all types of books. For example, the same year they published BR, they published a translation of Kant, Me-Ko’ach ha-Nefesh, Cracow, 1881.  In all events, it appears that Lazer (or perhaps the printers) was aware of the controversy surrounding the BR as he removed Saul Berlin’s introduction as well as two of the more controversial responsa, one discussing suicide and the other allowing one to continue to travel home after sunset on Friday to avoid having to rely upon the charity of strangers.  In addition, one responsa was accidentally placed at the end of the volume, not in its proper order.[13]  Although the two responsa were removed in the text, they still appear in the index. A photo-mechanical reproduction of this edition was published in New York in 1970, and a copy is available on Hebrewbooks. 

    In 1984, the BR was reprinted for only the third time.  This edition, edited by R. Reuven Amar and includes an extensive introduction, Kuntres Yafe le-Besamim, about BR.  Additionally, commentary on the BR by various rabbis is included.  The text of this edition is a photo-mechanical reproduction of the first edition.  This edition contains two approbations, one from R. Ovadiah Yosef, who in his responsa accepts that BR is a product of R. Saul Berlin, but R. Yosef holds that doesn’t diminish the BR’s value.  The second approbation is from R. Benyamin Silber.  But, R. Silber provides notes in the back of this edition and explains that he holds the BR is a forgery and that he remains unconvinced of Amar’s arguments to the contrary.

    In his introduction, Amar attempts to rehabilitate the BR.  Initially, it should be noted that Amar relies heavily upon Samet’s articles on BR, but never once cites him.  Samet had complied a bibliography of works about BR as well as where the BR is cited, Amar also provides the latter in a sixty four page Kuntres, ריח בשבמים, in the back of his edition. In his introduction Amar relates the history of the BR and attempts to demonstrate that many accepted the BR and those that did not, Amar argues that many really did accept BR.  This introduction contains some very basic errors, many of which have been pointed out by Shmuel Ashkenazi in his notes that appear after the introduction.  

Difficulties in Authentication   

    Today, various theories have been put forth to demonstrate that the BR is a forgery.  Specifically, some have pointed to “hints” or “clues” that R. Saul left for the careful reader which would indicate that BR is a carefully created forgery.  For example, some note that the number of responsa, 392, the Hebrew representation of that number is שצ”ב which can be read to be an abbreviation of Saul’s name – Saul ben Tzvi.  Others take this one step further and point to the was R. Asher (Rosh) is referenced – רא”ש – which again can be read R. Saul.  Obviously, these clues are by no means conclusive.  In the academic world, the BR is written off as a “trojan horse” intended to surreptitiously get R. Saul’s masklik positions out in the masses or something similar.  All of these positions, however, rely upon a handful of responsa at best and no one has been able to conclusively demonstrate that the entirety of BR is a forgery. At best, we are still left with the original criticisms – that a few of the responsa’s conclusions espouse positions that appear to be more 18th century in nature than 13th century. [14]   

 R. Yeruchum Fischel Perlow aptly sums up much of what has been written regarding the question of authenticity of BR:

Just about all who have examined [the question of the authenticity of BR] walk around like the blind in the dark, and even after all their long-winded essays, they are left with only their personal feelings about the BR without ever adducing any substantive proofs in support of their position. And, on the rare occasions that they actual do provide proofs for their positions, it only takes a cursory examination to determine that their is nothing behind those proofs. [R. Yeruchum Fischel Perlow, “Regarding the book ‘Besamim Rosh,'” Noam 2 (1959), p. 317. For some reason this article is lacking in some editions of Noam]

    Assuming that one discounts the testimony of Saul and his father regarding the manuscript, it is not easy to determine if the BR is authentic or not.  For example, responsum 192, according to R. Moshe Hazan, one of the defenders of BR, this responsum “is clear to anyone who is familiar with the language and style of the Rishonim, from the Rishonim.” Responsum 192, is attributed to R. Shlomo ben Aderet (Rashba), and discusses the opinion of Rosh that allowed for capital punishment for pregnancy out of wedlock.  Thus, according to R. Hazan, 192 is conclusive proof that BR is authentic. 

    Simcha Assaf, however, has shown that responsum 192 is a forgery – or there is a misattribution.  Assaf explains that if one looks at the date of this incident, responsum 192 could not have been written by Rashba.  Rashba died 10 years prior to this event.  Simcha Assaf, Ha-Onshim Ahrei Hatemat ha-Talmud, Jerusalem, 1928, pp. 69-70.  Thus, the very same responsum whose “language and style” demonstrated that it was from the times of the rishonim has attribution problems.  To be sure, Assaf isn’t saying this responsum isn’t necessarily from the rishonim period, however, it surely isn’t from Rashba.[15]

    Or, to take another example. Talya Fishman argues that “[halakhic literature of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries . . . climbed to new (and fantastic) heights of theoretical speculation, creating, in effect, a body of non applied law.”  Talya Fishman, “Forging Jewish Memory: BR and the Invention of Pre-emancipation Jewish Culture,” in Jewish History and Jewish Memory, ed. Carlbach et al., Hanover and London: 1998, pp. 70-88.  Based on this understanding of seventeenth and eighteenth century literature, as contrasted with literature from the period of Rosh, she turns to the BR and finds such speculative responsa.  This, according to Fishman, implicitly demonstrates that BR is a product of the seventeenth or eighteenth century. Indeed, Fishman concludes “[i]n short, [BR], has an unusually high concentration of eyebrow-raising cases.”  Id. at 76. 

    But, if one subjects Fishman’s argument to even a minimal amount of scrutiny, her argument, as presented, is unconvincing.  First, in support of Fishman’s “high concentration” of odd responsa, Fishman provides three examples.  That is, Fishman points to three out of 392 responsa that contain “eyebrow-raising cases” and concludes this represents “an unusually high concentration.”  I think that most would agree that less than 1% does not represents an unusually high concentration.  Second, of the three examples Fishman does provide, one is from Kasa deHarshena, which everyone agrees is a product of the eighteenth century.  Third, one of the examples, no. 100, it appears that Fishman misread the responsa.  Fishman provides that responsa 100 is a “bizarre question about whether a one-armed man should don tefilin shel yad on his forehead alongside tefilin shel rosh.”  Id. at 76.  Indeed,  responsa 100 is about a one-armed man and whether because he cannot fulfill the arm portion of tefilin if that absolves him of the head portion.  Nowhere, however, not in BR or Kasa de-harshena, does it mention the possibility of putting the tefilin shel yad on one’s forehead.  Thus, if we discount these two responsa, Fishman is left with a single responsum to prove her generalization about BR.[16]   

    Regarding the manuscript, that too is an unsolved mystery.  We know that a manuscript that may have been the copy which R. Hirschel made is extant but the manuscript from di Molena is unknown.  Additionally, although we know that the Leningrad/St. Petersberg library had Tzvi Hirsch’s copy with his annotations, the current location of that book is unknown. See Benjamin Richler’s post regarding the manuscript here.

    The BR’s most lasting effect may be in that this was to be the first of many newly discovered manuscripts to be accused of forgery because of the conclusions reached.  Subsequent to the BR, responsa or works in other areas of Jewish literature were tarred with cry of forgery because of their conclusions. [See Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, Chapters in the History of the Jewish Book, Writing and Transmission, Ramat-Gan, 2005, 244-75, (“until the publication of BR, there were no questions raised regarding the authenticity of a book”) Spiegel also demonstrates that we now know that in many instances that the charge of forgery was wholly without basis and today there is no question that some of the books that are alleged forgeries are legitimate.]

Other Works by Saul Berlin

    One final point.  While we discussed Saul’s work prior to BR, there was another book that he wrote, that was published posthumously.  This work, Ketav Yosher, defended Naftail Wessley and his changes to the Jewish educational system.  Indeed, Ketav Yosher, is a scathing attack on many traditional sacred cows. [17]  Ketav Yosher, like MY, was published without Saul’s name, but again, we have testimony that Saul was in fact the author.  In light of the position Ketav Yosher takes, it is no surprise that this book doesn’t help Saul’s standing among traditionalists.  

    Saul may have written additional works as well, however, like the BR itself, there is some controversy surrounding those additional works.  R. Saul’s son, R. Areyeh Leib records an additional 11 works that Saul left behind after he died.  The problem is these very same works – although all remaining in manuscript – have been attributed to someone else.  But, before one jumps to conclusions, it should be pointed out that this story gets even more complicated.  The book which attributes these works to another is itself problematic.  Indeed, whether this list attributing the books to another even exists is a matter debate.  And, while that sounds implausible, that, indeed is the case.  Ben Yaakov, Otzar ha-Seforim (p. 599 entry 994) says there is a 1779 Frankfort Order edition of Sha’ar ha-Yihud/Hovot ha-Levovot that includes an introduction (and other material) that lists various manuscripts which the editor, according to Ben Ya’akov, was a grandson of Yitzhak Yosef Toemim, ascribes to his grandfather – and not Saul. Weiner, in his bibliography, Kohelet Moshe, (p. 478, no. 3922) says that Ben Ya’akov is wrong – not about the edition, Weiner agrees there was a 1779 Frankfort Oder edition, just Weiner says there is no introduction and Toemim wasn’t the editor (and other material is missing). Vinograd, Otzar Sefer ha-Ivri lists such a book – 1779 Frankfort Oder, Hovot ha-Levovot/Sha’ar ha-Yichud, but there is no such edition listed in any catalog that we have seen including JNUL, JTS, Harvard, British Library etc. It appears that Samat couldn’t locate a copy either as although he records the dispute between Weiner and Ben Yaakov, he doesn’t offer anything more.  Thus, Saul’s other writings, for now, remains an enigma.

    It is worthwhile to conclude with the words of R. Matisyahu Strashun regarding Saul and the BR:

“After all these analyses, even if we were able to prove that the entire BR from the begininning to end is the product of R. Saul, one cannot brush the work aside . . . as the work is full of Torah like a pomegranate, and the smell of besamim is apparent, it is a work full of insight and displays great breadth, the author delves into the intricacies of the Talmud and the Rishonim, the author is one of the greats of his generation.”  Shmuel Yosef Finn, Kiryah Ne’amanah, notes of R. Strashun, p. 93.

The Internet


    As hopefully should be apparent, most of the books discussed above or referenced below are available online.  These include the rare retraction that R. Saul published regarding his position on shaving on hol ha-ma’od, Ketav Yosher, the prospectus for BR, as well as the BR itself.  Indeed, not only is the BR online but both editions are online. And, the BR exemplifies why one should be aware of multiple internet sources.  Hebrewbooks has a copy of BR which they indicate is the first edition “Berlin, 1793,” however, in reality it is the later, 1881 Warsaw edition of the BR.  As noted above, that edition, however, is lacking two responsa.  This highlights an issue with Hebrewbooks, the bibliographical data is not necessarily correct.  The JNUL, has the first edition. Indeed, in the case of the JNUL, the bibliographical information is much more reliable than Hebrewbooks. Thus, one needs to use both the JNUL as well as Hebrewbooks if one wants to get a full picture of the BR. Or, another example.  Both the JNUL site as well as Hebrewbooks has MY online; but, the JNUL version was bound with two rare letters at the end and those appear online as well.  Additionally, when it comes to Hebrewbooks, one must be aware that they have removed books that someone presumably finds objectionable so although MY and KY are there now, there is no guarantee it will be in the future.  Similarly, although not online, and unlike the MY the JNUL has, Otzar haChomah has the Ze’ev Yitrof with additional material bound in the back. Besides for all these rare seforim mentioned, many of the other seforim quoted in this post, as is apparent from the links, can now be found on the web in a matter of seconds instead of what just a few short years ago would have taken a nice long trip to an excellent library.

Saul’s Epithet, he was buried in the Alderney Road Cemetery in London, next to his brother, Hirschel, Chief Rabbi 
Notes

[1] For more on R. Raphael Cohen see the amazingly comprehensive and insightful bibliography by the bibliophile R. Eliezer Katzman, “A Book’s Luck,” Yeshurun 1 (1996), p. 469-471 n.2. See also R. Moshe Shaprio, R Moshe Shmuel ve-Doro pp.103-110 especially on the BR see 108-09. C. Dembinzer, Klielas Yoffee, 1:134b, 2:78b writes that the work on TY caused R. Saul to lose his position as Chief-Rabbi of Frankfort and his wife divorced him because of it. See also, S. Agnon, Sefer Sofer Vesipur, p.337. On R. Raphael Cohen and his connection with the Gra and Chasidus see D. Kamenetsky, Yeshurun, 21, p. 840-56. As an aside this article generated much controversy for example see the recent issue of Heichal Habesht, 29, p.202-216 and here.
[2] Regarding the correct pronunciation of this title see Moshe Pelli, “The Religious Reforms of ‘Traditionalist’ Rabbi Saul Berlin,” HUCA (1971) p. 11.  See also R. Shmuel Ashkenzi’s notes in the BR, Jerusalem, 1983 ed., introduction, n.p., “Notes of R. Shmuel Ashkenzi on Kuntres Yefe le-Besamim, note 6.  
Additionally, MY was not Saul’s first literary production, nor was it his first that was critical of another’s book.  Instead, while he was in Italy in 1784, he authored a kunteres of criticisms of R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai’s Birkei Yosef.  See R. R. Margolis, Arshet pp. 411-417; Moshe Samat, “Saul Berlin and his Works,” Kiryat Sefer 43 (1968) 429-441, esp. pp. 429-30, 438 n.62.  On Chida’s opinion of the BR see for example Shem Hagedolim:

עתה מקרוב נדפס ספר זה בברלין… ועוד יש הגהות כסא דהרסנא. ואשמע אחרי קול רעש כי יש בספר זה קצת דברים זרים ואמרו שהמעתיק הראשון בארץ תורגמה מכ”י הרב יצחק די מולינא ז”ל יש לחוש שהוסיף וגרע. ולכן הקורא בסי’ זה לא יסמוך עליו דאפשר דתלי בוקי סריקי בגדולים עד אשר יחקור ויברר הדברים ודברי אמת ניכירים ודי בזה… (שם הגדולים, ערך בשמים ראש, וראה שם, ערך מר רב אברהם גאון)

See also the important comments of R.Yakov Chaim Sofer, Menuchas Sholom, 8, pp. 227-230 about the Chida.
[3]  Eliezer Landshut, Toldot Anshei Shem u-Puolotum be-Adat Berlin, Berlin: 1884, 89-90 for the text of the ban as well as its history.  Additionally, for the proclamation read in the main synagogue of Altona see id. at 90-1. This proclomation has been described as “one of the harshest condemnations” of the time.  See Shmuel Feiner, The Jewish Enlightenment in the Eighteenth-Century, Jerusalem: 2002, p. 310. 
[4]  Id. at 91. Samat, however, notes that neither Saul nor his father ever admitted Saul’s authorship of MY.  Samat, “Saul Berlin and his Works,” p. 432, 4.  
[5] According to A. Berliner, the author of this pamphlet is R. Eliezer Heilbot. See Samat, id. Saul and MY were not the only ones attacked. The publisher of MY, Hinukh Ne’arim, was also attacked and, not only MY but all the books they published were prohibited by some. The publishers, however, defended their decision to publish MY.  They argued that the whole point of MY was to ascertain if R. Raphael Cohen’s book was riddled with errors or, the author of MY was mistaken.  The publishers pointed to the above mentioned introduction to MY wherein the MY’s author explains that he has sent copies of the book to leading rabbis to determine the question regarding R. Cohen’s book. Thus, MY is either right or wrong, but there can be nothing wrong with merely publishing it.  See id. at 92-3.
Additionally, it should be noted that according to some, Saul authored a second attack on R. Raphael.  R. Raphael published Marpeh Lashon, Altona, 1790, and was soon after attacked in the journal Ha-Meassef by someone writing under the pen-name EM”T.  Many posit that this is none other than Saul.  Katzman, Yeshurun 1, 471 n.3, disagrees and points to internal evidence that it is unlikly that Saul is the author of this critique. 
According to Feiner, these attacks were not one-sided.  Feiner argues that R. Cohen criticizes Saul, albeit in a veiled manner, in Marpeh Lashon.  See Feiner, Jewish Enlightenment, op. cit., 314-15.  
[6] Landshuth, id., suggests that Moshe is a non-existent figure like MY’s putative author Ovadiah. See also, Samet, “Saul Berlin and his Works,” 432 n.4 who similarly questions the existence of Moshe.  Carmilly-Weinberg makes the incredible statement that his Moshe is none other than Moses Mendelssohn.  Carmilly-Weinberg, Sefer ve-Seiyif,  New York, 1967, p. 215, (Carmilly-Weinberg’s discussion about both MY and BR are riddled with errors).  As Pelli notes this is impossible as the letter is signed 1789, the same year MY was printed, and Mendelssohn died three years prior. Pelli resurrects Moshe and links him with a known person from Amsterdam, Saul brother-in-law. See Pelli, HUCA (1971) p. 13 n.75.  Ultimately, however, Pelli rejects this and demonstrates that Moshe is indeed a pseudonym but a well-selected one.  See id.  
[7]  See Landshuth, 93-9; Pelli, 13-15.  See also R. Alexander Sender Margolioth, Shu”t ha-RA”M, Lemberg, 1897, no. 9.    
[8] See Feiner, The Jewish Enlightenment, op. cit., 312-13.  This newspaper is online here, and Feiner provides the relevant issues which are 1789 pp. 484-88, 520-24, 574-81, 680-82, 768-74, 791-802, 867-92, 932-72.   
One of which includes this portrait of R. Cohen.
Which is a very different portrait, both in time and look, to the one appearing in E. Duckesz, Ivoh le-Moshav, Cracow, 1903.

[9] For the deeper meaning of the title Kasa de-Harshena, see Moshe Pelli, The Age of Haskalah, University Press of America, 2006, 183 n.51.
[10] See Samat, who discusses the exact progression of the ban.

[11] See Yechezkel Shrage Lichtenstein, Suicide: Halakhic, Historical, and Theological Aspects, Tel-Aviv, 2008, pp. 438-44. See also,Yeshurun 13:570-587 especially pp.578-581; Marc B. Shapiro, “Suicide and the World-To-Come,” AJS Review, 18/2 (1993), 245-63. 
On the issue of suicide there are others who similarly reach the same holding as the BR see Strashun in his מתת-יה pp. 72a-72b (this source is not quoted by Samet or Amar).
[12] Biographical information on R. Yosef Lazer is scant.  For information on his father and grandfather, see Meir Wunder, Me’orei Galicia, Israel, 1986, vol. III, pp. 456, 462-3. See also T.I. Abramsky, “‘Besamim Rosh’ in the Hassidic Milieu,” Taggim, (3-4), 56-58.   
[13] Samat only notes the removal of one responsum, he fails to note that exclusion of the second.  He does, however, note the misplaced responsum.  Additionally, Kuntres ha-Teshuvot ha-Hadash, fails to record that any are missing or that one responsum was moved to the end. 
[14] See Pelli, Age of Haskalah, pp. 185-89, comparing a few responsa with 18th century haskalah literature.
[15] Assaf was not the first to use this responsa and note its historical anacronisms.  Leopold Zunz, also highlights the issues with this responsum (as well as others).  Leopold Zunz, Die Ritus des Synagogalen Gottesdienstes, Geschichtlich Entwickelt, Berlin: 1859, 226-28.  Zunz’s critique is quoted, almost in its entirety by Schrijver, but Schrijver appears to be unaware of Assaf’s additional criticisms of the responsum (and others).
Assaf provides one other example where he shows through internal data that there is a misattribution.  Assaf concludes that he has other examples of historical anacronisms in BR but doesn’t provide them here or, to our knowledge, anywhere else.
[16] For another critique of Fishman’s position see Emile G.L. Schrijver, “Saul Berlin’s Besamim Rosh: The Maskilic Appreciation of Medieval Knowledge,” in Sepharad in Ashkenaz, Netherlands: 2007, pp. 249-259, esp. pp. 253-54. 
[17] Regarding Ketav Yoshor see Pelli, Age, 176-79. See also here and here.

Additional Bibliography:
M. Samet has two articles on the topic, R. Saul Berlin and his Writings, Kiryat Sefer, 43 (1969) 429-41; “Besamim Rosh” of Saul Berlin, Kiryat Sefer 48 (1973) 509-23, neither of which are included in the recent book of Samet’s articles.

To add to Samet’s and Amar’s very comprehensive lists of Achronim who quote BR: (I am sure searches on the various search engines will show even more): Malbim in Artzos Hachaim, 9:41 (in Hameir Learetz); Shut Zecher Yosef,1:32b; Keter Kehunah p. 30; Matzav Hayashar 1:2a; Pischei Olam 2:218,228; Birchat Yitchcak (Eiskson), pp. 6,14,24; Maznei Tzedek, p.26,45,254; R.Yakov Shor, Birchat Yakov, pp.212  Sefer Segulos Yisroel pp.116b; R. Rabinowitz, Afekei Yam 2:14; R. Leiter, Zion Lenefesh Chayah# 43; Shut Sefas Hayam, OC siman 14; R Meir Soleiveitck, Hameir Laretz 45a, 45b, 54b, 55a; Emrei Chaim p.26; R. Sholom Zalman Auerbach, Meorei Eish p. 108 b

In general on BR see: R.Yakov Shor,Eytaim Lebinah (on Sefer Haeytim) p. 256; Pardes Yosef, Vayikrah 220b Pardes Yosef, Shelach p. 517; R.Yakov Chaim Sofer, Menuchas Sholom, 8, pp. 222- 230; Shar Reven p. 54; A. Freimann, HaRosh ; Y. Rafel, Rishonim Veachronim, pp. 123-130; B. Lau, MeMaran Ad Maran, pp.133; S. Agnon, Sefer Sofer Vesipur, pp.337-339.

R. Pinhas Eliyahu Horowitz writes:

ולפעמים תולים דבריהם באילן גדול וכותבים מה שרוצים בשם איזה קדמון אשר לא עלה על לבו… כספר בשמים ראש שחיבר בעל כסא דהרנסא לא הרא”ש וזקני ישראל תופסי התורה יעלו על ראשם… (ספר הברית, עמ’ 232).

The Steipler was of the opinion in regard to the BR that:
שבאמת ניכר מהרבה תשובות שהם מהרא”ש ז”ל רק כנראה שיש שם הרבה תשובות מזויפות שהמעתיק הכניס מעצמו כי ישנם שם דברים מאד מזורים ואיומים  (ארחות רבנו, א, עמ’ רפה)

R Zevin writes in Sofrim Veseforim (Chabad) p.354 :
אלא שבתשובות בשמים ראש המיחוס להרא”ש ושכידוע נמנו וגמרו שמזוייף הוא

R. Yakov Kamenetsky said: “Do you think Just we (he meant people of his own caliber) were fooled? Even R. Akiva Eiger was fooled.” (Making of a Godol, pp.183-184)

About Rav Kook and the BR see: http://www.biu.ac.il/JS/JSIJ/5-2006/Gutel.pdf

R. Avigdor Nebensal writes:

כשמביאם את הבשמים ראש ראוי להזכיר שיש מסתייגים חריפות מהספר הזה (השתנות הטבעים, עמ’ 16).
R Zalman Nechemiah Goldberg writes:
אכן בעיקר הענין אם להביא דברי בשמים ראש בודאי צדק הג”א נבנצל שליט”א שיש להביאו בהסתייגות, ובפרט בענינים אלו שהוחזק למזייף ולמביא עקומות וכוזבות (השתנות הטבעים, עמ’ רסד).




Review of Kedushat Aviv: Rav Aharon Lichtenstein zt”l on the Sanctity of Time and Place

Kedushat Aviv:
Rav Aharon Lichtenstein ztl on the Sanctity of Time and Place
Rav Elyakim Krumbein
(Translated
by David Strauss)
Rav Elyakim Krumbein studied with Rav Soloveitchik at YU and made aliya in 1973. He has been a ram at Yeshivat Har Etzion since 1981 and heads its Tochnit Bekiut. He also served as a Pedagogic Advisor at Herzog College. Rav Krumbein’s guides for self-study on the Bavot, Ketubot and other tractates are widely used by Yeshiva students, and he has also written two volumes of study guides on Gittin and Kiddushin entitled Sho’el K’inyan. He is the author of Musar for Moderns and several courses on the Yeshivat Har Etzion’s Virtual Beit Midrash, as well as many articles on Talmud, Halakha, and Jewish thought, including seminal studies on the methodology of Brisk.
Review of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein, Kedushat Aviv: Iyyunim BeKedushat HaZeman VehaMakom, edited and adapted by R. Shai Lichtenstein, asst. ed. R. Chaim Navon (Maggid and Yeshivat Har Etzion, 2017; Hebrew); 512 pp., available here.
Kedushat Aviv: Iyyunim BeKedushat HaZeman VehaMakom consists of previously unpublished writings and lectures of Rav Aharon Lichtenstein ztl. Rav Aharon would periodically carve out time from his enormous duties as a teacher of Torah in order to cultivate this scholarly endeavor, the study of the concept of “sanctity.” He had hoped and planned that the work would develop into a book of three parts, discussing the sanctity of time, place, and personalities. Unfortunately, this dream was not fulfilled during his lifetime. Now, however, Rav Aharon’s son, R. Shai Lichtenstein, has edited and published the present volume, with the help of family members, disciples, and generous donors. (The book’s introduction details which chapters were written by Rav Aharon himself and which are based on recordings and notes.) The volume covers two topics – the sanctity of time and the sanctity of place.
A Book of Thematic Studies
This volume belongs to the genre of thematic studies. It is not a collection of novella on the Talmud or the Rambam or the like, but rather an examination of the various aspects of a particular topic. Such works take upon themselves a formidable task – collecting passages from all across the Talmud in which a particular issue is discussed by Chazal, arranging the principles arising from the sources, and clarifying the inner relationships between the various parts.
These works can be classified according to their various approaches. Some authors attempt to turn an obscure topic into a “Shulchan Arukh” (e.g., the Minchat Kohen on the laws of forbidden food mixtures). Others strive primarily to deal
with the difficulties of the topic and to rule about matters that are subject to doubt (e.g. Shev Shemateta), and, in recent generations, the goal may be to define the concepts in depth (e.g. Shaarei Yosher). Rav Aharon, as a prominent scholar of the Brisker approach, belongs to the latter group. The author immerses himself in the depths of Halakha and takes advantage of his mastery of the Talmudic passages, the Rishonim, and the Acharonim (attested to by indices at the end of the volume).

We were already able to benefit from the essays published in Rav Aharon’s previous book, Minchat Aviv (here), which was previously reviewed at the Seforim blog by Professor Aviad Hacohen (here) some of which constitute comprehensive thematic studies in themselves (see, for example, his examination of the issue of “lishmah”).

The current volume, however, is an entirely new development. The scope is astounding, and the imagination and ambition are inspiring. Leafing through the main headings, most of which are dealt with at length, reveals that the book covers the major issues relating to the sanctity of time and place.

The first part deals with the sanctity of Shabbat and Yom Tov, Kiddush, the sanctity of Yom Kippur, the Sabbatical and Jubilee years, the sanctification of the months, and the intercalations of the calendar. The second part opens with the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael, and then moves on to the sanctity of walled cities, Jerusalem, the Temple Mount, and the Temple and its various parts.

In Kedushat Aviv, Rav Aharon applies the unique scholarly approach that characterizes all of his teachings in order to elucidate the topic of sanctity. We will note below several points relating to the author’s methodological approach.

The grand plan of the work allowed Rav Aharon to give free rein to the fullness of his originality. This originality stems not necessarily from flashes of brilliance, but rather from the author’s fundamental and thorough examination of the material under study.

To illustrate this, let us examine one small element of a discussion concerning the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael, a classic subject in Talmudic scholarship. The chapter opens with a review of some of the well-known doctrines, as taught by the sages of Brisk – first and foremost the distinction between the “sanctity” of Eretz Yisrael and the “name” of Eretz Yisrael. This duality regarding the unique status of the land has a number of practical ramifications, which are quite familiar to anyone at home in the beit midrash.

Thus, for example, the geographical scope of the “name” of Eretz Yisrael extends to the broad boundaries of the land conquered by those who came out of Egypt (as opposed to the narrower borders achieved by the returnees under Ezra). Also, it is never cancelled, even according to those who say that the initial sanctification of Eretz Yisrael did not hold for the future. Thirdly, it obligates only some of the commandments connected to Eretz Yisrael (for example, egla arufa, but not terumot and ma’asrot). Rav Aharon considers these classical matters and declares that “Heaven has left me room to illuminate another facet of the issue.” From here he continues with novel clarifications and further developments that greatly broaden the halakhic concept of Eretz Yisrael, as the traditional dichotomy is restrictive and there is no reason to assume that it is necessarily true.

Rav Aharon argues that in addition to the sanctity of the land of Eretz Yisrael (which obligates the setting aside of terumot and ma’asrot), we can speak of three different concepts that underlie the “name” of Eretz Yisrael:

  1. the chosen land in which the Shekhina rests;
  2. the place where the sanctity of the Temple spreads out gradually (as explained in the first chapter of Keilim), this being reflected in the laws governing the removal of the ritually impure from the camp;
  3. the land where the people of Israel become a united community and in which they fulfill their public duties (e.g., egla arufa).

It is, of course, possible to attribute all of these things to the “name” of Eretz Yisrael and assume that they all apply within the borders of the land conquered by those who left Egypt. But Rav Aharon writes, in his characteristic language, that “one can distinguish between the different aspects.” It is possible, for example, that the indwelling of the Shekhina sanctifies the land independently of any connection to the Temple. It is also possible that neither of these is necessary for regarding the people of Israel as a community dwelling in their own land.

This approach allows for a certain flexibility when we attempt to define the geographical entity of Eretz Yisrael. It may be argued that the covenantal boundaries of Abraham are the determining factor regarding a particular matter, but regarding a different matter, it is the boundaries mentioned in Parashat Mas’ei or the boundaries of the conquests of Yehoshua. This discussion is entirely independent of the idea of the “sanctity” of Eretz Yisrael regarding terumot and ma’asrot, which relates to the land settled by those who ascended from Bavel.

Thus, we are liberated from the fixed idea that anything unrelated to terumot and ma’asrot depends on the boundaries of the land conquered by those who left Egypt. The dichotomous approach is indeed convenient, and it may, in fact, be implicit in the words of the Rambam. However, dissociating from it is important, for example, when we discuss Transjordan. This area was certainly subject to the laws of terumot and ma’asrot during the First Temple period by Torah law, but it is referred to as an “impure land” in Scripture. From this, the Radbaz learns that in Transjordan there is “sanctity of mitzvot,” but no “sanctity of the Shekhina.” We see, then, that the sanctity of the Shekhina is not found in all places conquered by those who left Egypt, despite their possessing the sanctity of the land with respect to mitzvot. According to the conventional terminology, this situation is difficult to explain, to say the least. In this context, Rav Aharon cites the Sifre Zuta: “Transjordan is not fit for the house of the Shekhina.”

Another example relates to the sanctification of the month. It is generally assumed that the sanctity of time depends on human action, as expressed in the blessing, “Mekaddesh Yisrael veha-zemanim, He sanctifies Israel, who sanctify the appointed times.” In Rav Aharon’s chapter on the topic, this statement is treated thoroughly, systematically and in detail.

First of all, we may ask: Who is “Israel” in this context? Does it refer to a court of three, the Great Sanhedrin, the leaders of the people (“Moshe and Aharon,” according to Scripture), the nation of Israel as a collective, or the people of Israel as individuals? The fact that there are so many possibilities necessitates precision in definition, and, as mentioned above, a readiness for liberation from convenient dichotomous thinking.

The added value in this discussion is significant. Some of the options mentioned appear in the existing literature, usually in a narrower and more localized version. For example, the controversy about whether the sanctification of the month requires a Sanhedrin is well-known and has been amply discussed. But here it plays a role not in a “closed” two-sided investigation, but in an open inquiry: Who is “Israel” with regard to the sanctification of the moadim? The horizons of consideration and understanding have thus been greatly broadened.

As for the fundamental question, a distinction must be made between the law in practice and the law in principle; it is possible that in practice the mo’adim are determined by a court, but as representatives of the people. It must also be kept in mind that the process of establishing the mo’adim is complex and has stages that can be distinguished from one another – the deliberations, the final decision, and the actual sanctification. We may propose, for example, that in principle the decision is in the hands of the community, but the court acts on their behalf; regarding the actual sanctification, however, the court acts independently. The practical ramification is that the decision itself must be made in Eretz Yisrael (the place of the people of Israel as a national entity), whereas the actual sanctification can take place anywhere. The identity of the body that performs the actual sanctification is also a central question when it comes to exceptional situations in which human involvement is in doubt – for example, when the month is not sanctified at its appointed time, but is rather “sanctified by Heaven.” Is there still a role for the court in such a case? Rav Aharon demonstrates that this issue is subject to a dispute.

The proceeding discussion turns to the manner in which the calendar is determined in our times, in the absence of a Sanhedrin and authorized judges. Does this prove that in the end the human factor is dispensable? Once again, the answer depends upon differing opinions – whether the calendar in our day is determined in practice by the inhabitants of Eretz Yisrael (Rambam), by an earlier decision made by R. Hillel II and his court (Ramban), or “in Heaven” (Ri Migash). The Ramban’s view is ostensibly the “conservative” one, as according to him, the mechanism for sanctifying the month remains in principle as it was throughout history, with one “slight” deviation – the matter was settled long in advance. Rav Aharon, however, with his penetrating observation, discerns a great difference between projective astronomical calculations and what took place during the time of the Temple. The latter was a direct sanctification of the current month in present time, whereas the court of Hillel established a calendar as a long-term directive, which dictates the mo’adim in advance based on how they fit the pre-determined framework. Thus, it turns out that, contrary to what we might have thought, the Ramban actually agrees with the Ri Migash, and not with the Rambam, that in our time the mo’adim become sanctified on their own, without any direct sanctification on the part of the court.

The volume under discussion is unique in its creative use of biblical verses. The window to this methodology was opened wide by the founder of the Brisker approach of Talmud study, who relied heavily on the idea of “gezeirat ha-katuv,” “Scriptural decree,” beyond what is generally found in the literature of the Acharonim. As a rule, this Brisker approach demonstrates sensitivity and precision with regard to the meaning arising both from the wording and from the context of the biblical text.

For example, we mentioned earlier that Rav Aharon distinguishes between two levels of human involvement in determining the calendar: establishing a system of dates, which can be done in advance, as opposed to immediate and direct sanctification. According to the Ramban, the calendar of R. Hillel II fulfills the first component, but it lacks the direct sanctification. R. Aharon identifies these two aspects in two different passages of the Torah. In Parashat Emor, we read: “These are the appointed seasons of the Lord… which you shall proclaim in their appointed season.” This describes a “proclamation” of a calendar as a framework, which can be done on a comprehensive scale and even long in advance. In contrast, in Parashat Bo we read: “This month shall be to you the beginning of months” – the source for the sanctification of each month in its time based on a sighting of the new moon. Thus it may be suggested that in our time, according to the Ramban (as well as the Ri Migash), we fulfill the command in Emor, but we are unable to carry out what is stated in Bo. From this it may be concluded that this element is not indispensable. On the other hand, according to the Rambam, who maintains that even in our time, the sanctification of the appointed times is executed in a direct manner, we fulfill both elements – the proclamation and the sanctification.

Rav Aharon uses the same method in his comprehensive discussion of the sanctity of Shabbat and Yom Tov, with which the book opens. Here the recourse to biblical texts is more extensive and is consistently present in the discussion. This is already apparent at the beginning of the essay, which is devoted to an examination of the Torah passages dealing with Shabbat, to the distinctions between them, and to their halakhic ramifications.

Rav Aharon’s main argument is that the verses in the passage of “Ve-shamru Bnei Yisrael et ha-Shabbat” in Parashat Ki-Tisa constitute a change with respect to the discussions of Shabbat in Yitro and in Mishpatim. Parashat Ki-Tisa introduces the concept of desecrating the Shabbat, as well as the death penalty for that offense. Prior to these verses, the foundation of Shabbat lay in its being a reminder of the act of Creation, and this foundation gave rise to the melakhot as prohibited actions.

But in Parashat Ki-Tisa, the Torah presents Shabbat as a sign of the covenant and as a focus of the resting of the Shekhina, which is why these verses are found in the context of the commandment regarding the building of the Tabernacle. Only now does performing a forbidden action on Shabbat become its desecration – after it has been established that it has sanctity that is subject to desecration (just as the sanctity of the Temple is desecrated by the entry of something that is ritually impure). The liability for the death penalty is not for the performance of the prohibited labor itself, but for its consequence – the desecration of the sanctity.

Thus, there are “two dinim” regarding the sanctity of Shabbat, and the attribution of various details of the laws of Shabbat to one or the other aspect of the sanctity of the day has halakhic ramifications.

Rav Aharon further explains why the prohibited labor of kindling is mentioned separately in Parashat Vayakhel (on the assumption that there is no halakhic difference between it and any other prohibited labor, on the Tannaitic view that its specification is a mere illustration of separate culpability for each transgression of Shabbat law). Kindling is fundamentally a labor connected to food preparation, and such a labor is prohibited only because of the “covenant” aspect of Shabbat. Therefore, it could not have been prohibited before Parashat Ki-Tisa. Hence the difference in the definition of the sanctity of the day between Shabbat and Yom Tov.

We have presented here only a few fundamental ideas on which the author proceeds to expand and build entire edifices.

Much of the richness of Rav Aharon’s writings derives from his commitment to the truth. By virtue of this commitment, he avoids adherence to conventional ideas and often raises doubts about commonly accepted matters, and thus he entertains many varied possibilities. Some readers will be frustrated by the fact that so much is left in question. In their view, Torah novellae are measured according to their success in clarifying and proving from the sources the opposing sides of the various investigations – “there is no greater joy than the clarification of doubt.” However, from Rav Aharon’s point of view, the ability to maintain a conceptual space in which different possibilities are open is a source of satisfaction. According to the atmosphere of the book, successfully removing a threat to one of the options, thus “proving” that everything is still possible, is a source of relief. This tendency is expressed in phrases such as “it may be argued” or “it may be suggested.” The fact that these possibilities are not directly supported by the views of any of the Rishonim is not a reason to ignore them.

For example, according to the well-known position of the Rambam, the opinion that maintains that a gentile’s purchase of land in Eretz Yisrael cancels the sanctity of the land for the purpose of terumot and ma’asrot further argues that the exemption continues even if the land is bought back by a Jew. This is because the Jew’s purchase falls into the category of “the conquest of an individual,” as opposed to a national acquisition. Rav Aharon explains at length why this is not necessarily so, despite the ruling of the Rambam. It is possible that even according to the view that the gentile’s ownership cancels the sanctity, that sanctity returns when Jewish ownership of the land is restored.

First of all, the Rambam assumes that “the conquest of an individual” is a problem even in Eretz Yisrael itself, and not only in Syria, a matter that is subject to dispute. Second, it may be suggested that when all of Eretz Yisrael is in Jewish hands, the private purchase of a particular field joins the collective ownership and becomes part of the conquest of the community, despite the fact that the purchaser himself is interested only in his private ownership. It is further possible that even if the purchase is the conquest of an individual and it cannot sanctify the land directly, it is able to join the field to the part of Eretz Yisrael that is already holy, and thus is endowed with automatic sanctity. It is also possible that even if the gentile’s purchase of the land cancels its sanctity, it is not fully cancelled (as would be in a situation of destruction or of general foreign occupation), but is rather temporarily frozen, and it is therefore liable to reveal itself once again without another act of sanctification.

In a related matter, the author discusses the view of R. Chayim Brisker regarding the status of the laws relating to the sanctity of the land when the majority of the nation is not found in Eretz Yisrael. According to the Rambam, during the time of the Second Temple, there was no obligation to set aside terumot and ma’asrot, since there was no return of all (or most) of the people of Israel in the days of Ezra, “bi’at kulkhem.” R. Chayim explains that this deficiency is not an independent condition for obligation, but rather a deficiency in the sanctity of the land. In accordance with this understanding, he assumes that the criterion of “bi’at kulkhem” refers to the moment of the sanctification of the land (the time of Ezra’s arrival). If it fails at that point, the situation is irrevocable despite subsequent immigration.

Rav Aharon raises doubts about this in light of the Rambam’s statement, “The Scriptural commandment to separate teruma applies only in Eretz Yisrael and only when the entire Jewish People is located there,” which does not mention this limitation. Even according to R. Chayim’s fundamental assumption, Rav Aharon asks, why not consider the later joining of most of Israel to be a continuation of the conquest, despite the fact that they did not arrive in the days of Ezra? Rav Aharon then proposes a different understanding that undermines the position of R. Chayim.

It is possible that what was suggested above regarding gentile ownership is also true of gentile conquest. In other words, even at a time of destruction, the sanctity of the land is not totally cancelled, but only frozen. This is because the sanctity of the land stems from its designation as the inheritance of the people of Israel. When the people of Israel are not there, the sanctity exists in potential. The people of Israel’s realized possession of and control over the land actualizes this sanctity. It is therefore possible that what is referred to as an “act of sanctification” of Eretz Yisrael is in fact merely the fulfillment of a condition for revealing this sanctity in actuality.

Even if we do not accept this understanding concerning the sanctification of Ezra, it is possible to accept it with regard to the condition of “bi’at kulkhem.” And even if Ezra had to perform some formal act of sanctification, after him – and even in our time, when the second sanctification is still in force – we certainly do not need “bi’at kulkhem” as part of the act of sanctification, but, as stated, as a reality that actualizes the destiny of the land and reveals its full sanctity.

These musings and their like open many theoretical avenues regarding concepts of sanctification and the sanctity of Eretz Yisrael, as well as their application in practice.

What Is Sanctity

Thus far we have noted some of the scholarly qualities of the book, but attention must also be paid to its contents. Given that the book encompasses so many facets of the laws of sanctity, does it also have something important to say about the nature of sanctity in the eyes of Halakha?

The editors of the book have done us a service by appending an essay that addresses this question, and we will make use of it here to deal with the issue, however briefly. The chapters of this volume reveal a conception of sanctity that is not only multi-faceted in itself, but is the object and background for human activity that reciprocally alters its nature. The Torah does not view sanctity as a guest from another world that lands in the human-natural world and transforms its order. On the contrary, it is integrated into the life of the individual, who responds to it with reciprocity and creativity.

Sometimes a person will find himself reacting to the appearance of sanctity with a declaration and with recognition, this in order to receive and integrate it into his earthly life, but without creating a new dimension. On the other hand, a person often does add a new dimension to existing holiness, what Rav Aharon calls its human “stratum.” Another possibility is not to add a new dimension to sanctity, but to “deepen” the existing dimension. These two latter options are certainly distinct, and illustrate once again the author’s close attention to precise definition and classification.

Finally, of course, there are cases in which man’s activity is the primary source of sanctity – whether deliberately initiated or spontaneously generated. At the same time, on the negative side, we must examine the situations in which a person can cancel holiness, or desecrate and impair it without abolishing it altogether, and when existing sanctity is completely indifferent to human actions. The editors illustrate these various avenues using detailed examples from the book.

The pages of Kedushat Aviv faithfully reflect the image of the author, who invested his heart and soul in this work. The volume exemplifies his love of Torah and his passion for truth, and provides an inspiring model of personal creativity. These are the foundations of Rav Aharon’s heritage, now bequeathed to his disciples.