Marc B. Shapiro: Obituary for Prof. Mordechai Breuer zt”l

Obituary: Professor Mordechai Breuer zt”l
By Marc B. Shapiro
Professsor Mordechai Breuer passed away on the twelfth of Sivan, 5767. It is a great loss for the world of Jewish scholarship as well as that of Orthodox Jewry. Breuer, born in Frankfurt in 1918, was the great-grandson of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, the grandson of R. Shlomo Zalman Breuer, who succeeded Hirsch as Rav of the Frankfurt separatist community, and the son of Dr. Isaac Breuer, the leading theoretician of the Agudah (although the latter’s philosophy would later diverge from what came to be known as the Agudah Daas Torah).

Breuer came to the world of academic Jewish studies rather late, earning his PhD in 1967 for a study of the Ashkenazic yeshiva in the late Middle Ages. (He had previously earned an MA at the Hebrew University, writing on David Gans.) At that time, he was principal of the Horeb school in Jerusalem. He later became professor of Jewish history at Bar Ilan. It is more than a little ironic that a great-grandson of Hirsch would devote himself academic Jewish studies.[1]

Returning to Prof. Breuer, it is hard to do justice to such a productive scholar in a short post. One can be sure that the next issue of Ha-Maayan, with which Breuer was associated since its founding, will have an important obituary.

As one who has worked a great deal in the field of German Orthodoxy, I can state that my work would be much the poorer if not for Breuer’s many writings. His classic Modernity Within Tradition is a marvelous study of the German Orthodox community and a model for how to write the history of American Orthodoxy. For those who read German, I recommend the original version, published by the Leo Baeck Institute. While containing the same text as the English, the German version has additional information in the footnotes.

For those interested in the full range of his scholarship (up until eight years ago) the volume Asif (Jerusalem, 1999) contains a number of his best articles, including his classic study of Hirsch’s Torah im Derekh Eretz principle. (This article was translated into English and published as a booklet, but has been out of print for many years.) The volume also contains a bibliography of his many writings.[2]

Of particular interest to readers of this blog is his final work, Oholei Torah, on the history of the yeshivot.[3] The only criticism I can give of this work is that it tries to do too much, and throws too much information at the reader. Yet it is an enormously helpful volume. I leave aside for now his contributions in a number of other areas of Jewish studies, as well as in general German Jewish history.

As I was in touch with him for many years, allow me to offer some personal comments, and excerpts from letters and e-mails I received, as I think they will be of interest to the readers.

My first contact with Breuer was actually not the most pleasant for me. I was a graduate student and had just published an article in Ha-Maayan (Tishrei, 5754), in which I included a strong attack on R. Esriel Hildesheimer’s Eisenstadt yeshiva by an anonymous nineteenth-century critic.[4] Breuer wrote to me expressing his unhappiness that I had chosen to publicize what, in his mind, were the ignorant ravings of a benighted yeshiva bachur. I thought then, and still think, that — to paraphrase someone else — while ignorant ravings remain ignorant ravings, the history they illuminate is scholarship. The editor, the late, lamented Yonah Emanuel, took my side in this dispute, and I was happy to have his support when confronted by the man who had become one of my idols in scholarship. (Emanuel actually censored my article, taking out a reference to an attack on the Ketav Sofer, an attack that was already in print and which I found helpful in illuminating the dispute taking place in Hungary. The Ketav Sofer was actually a great friend of Hildesheimer, and even invited him to come to Pressburg to serve with him in the rabbinate.)

Following this, our relationship improved, and I often turned to him with my questions. This became much easier when he too acquired e-mail access. Two months ago, in what was one of my last e-mails to him, I wrote:

I take this opportunity to encourage you to think about writing your autobiography. Your great father did so, and all of kelal Yisrael benefited from it. The same would apply to you.

Unfortunately, this was not to be. Already I feel a great loss at not having someone to turn to with all my questions. He was a veritable Urim ve-Tumim when it came to anything dealing with the lost, wonderful world of German Orthodoxy.

A couple of months ago, someone contacted me and wanted information about Hirsch’s visits to the opera. I looked around the internet a bit, and apparently it is “common knowledge” that Hirsch attended the opera. There have even been online discussions about what the halakhic justification of this was. Despite my extensive reading in German Orthodox literature, I had never heard that Hirsch went to the opera. Therefore, I was very skeptical of this piece of “common knowledge.” I was also aware that very often “common knowledge” turns out to be incorrect. But rather than offer my opinion, I did what I always did at times like this. I turned to Professor Breuer, the man who had read everything written by and about Hirsch, and who had painstakingly gone through every page of the German Orthodox newspapers and magazines of the nineteenth century. I also asked him about the general German Orthodox practice of going to the opera.

He replied:

Here and there you can find hints in German printed sermons disapproving going to the opera. When I went to the opera as a boy of 13-14 years my father did not express his dissatisfaction. I don’t know if Hirsch was an opera lover, but I know that he went to concerts when he was at a holiday resort.

All I can say is that if Breuer had never heard that Hirsch went to the opera, how is it that others seem to know this as a fact, and if asked for a source, will reply that it is “common knowledge”?

In another e-mail he wrote similarly:

I know of no Orthodox rabbi in Germany who regularly visited the opera. This applies also to Rav S.R. Hirsch. Very musical as he was, he sometimes visited a concert, especially while on holidays, but never, to the best of my knowledge, the opera.

I also asked Breuer, who attended the Hirschian school in Frankfurt, what the situation was with regard to boys covering their heads (we all know the teshuvah of R. David Zvi Hoffmann testifying as to how they did not do so in the nineteenth century). He replied:

None of the pupils covered their heads all day. I know there were nominally orthodox homes where heads were covered only for prayers and the like. One such case is documented not in Frankfurt, but in Munich. See Adolph Fraenkel’s biography of his father Sigmund Fraenkel, one of the leading members of Bavarian Orthodoxy.

He also pointed out to me that when Hirsch was Chief Rabbi of Moravia, he protested against a rule that Jewish children were forbidden to cover their heads during class. In other words, only in Germany, where that was the common practice, did children sit with uncovered heads. It was not a “shitah” of Hirsch that they do so.

I told Breuer that some people understand Hoffmann’s teshuvah as referring to him taking off his hat when he went into Hirsch’s office, but still having a kippah underneath. He replied that Hoffmann

is obviously dealing with cases which, when the hat was removed, left the head without any cover. Carrying a kippah underneath the hat was very unusual in Germany. If that had been the case, Hoffmann would certainly have mentioned it. By the way, I remember that the principal of the school had his head always covered with a kippah, as did other teachers who carried the title of rabbi.

In another e-mail he wrote:

I left the Hirsch school in Frankfurt in 1934. The rule of uncovered heads while studying “secular” subjects (a concept which should not have actually been used at a school adhering to the principle of Torah im Derech Eretz) was enforced without exception (it was not enforced upon teachers who served as rabbis in one of the local synagogues). However, during the last years of the school’s functioning, when the impact of the Nazi regime became increasingly palpable, pupils and teachers reacted by covering their heads in “secular” subjects as well.

I wrote to Breuer:

In Binyamin Shlomo Hamburger’s new biography of Rabbi Merzbach, pp. 17-18,[5] he says that German rabbis were obligated by law to receive a university degree. As a blanket statement this is false. Yet I believe that there were some times and places when the government did require this. Do you know any particulars about this, i.e., where and when this was required? Also, was Hirsch’s school co-educational (i.e., boys and girls). If so, were the classes mixed or only the school?

He replied:

There was certainly no German law requiring rabbis to have a university degree. In mattters of religion the many German states (“Laender”) were autonomous. At the beginning of emancipation there were states which passed administrative rules concerning the qualifications of rabbis. There were no such regulations anywhere in the Weimar period.There were no mixed classes in S.R. Hirsch’s school except in the very first years when enrol which is present [!] and also in the very last years when students and teachers were continually disappearing. However, throughout its existence the girls’ school (“Lyceum”) and the boys’ school were in separate wings under one roof and one principal and adminstration. Co-education was very rare in Germany before WWI.

I asked him about congregational singing in Germany. He replied:

There was some congregational singing in Orthodox synagogues, but usually the choir sang those portions, with the congregation singing or humming with the choir.

I asked him if his great father was a rabbi (since he is usually referred to as Dr.). He replied:

My father z.l. had two semichot morenu. In Germany no one was titled “Rabbi” unless he was an officiating rabbi, which my father was not. Here in Israel the title of rabbi, gaon, etc. has undergone a process of inflation and my father is regularly referred to as rabbi, which in his case is more justified than in many others.

On another occasion he wrote a bit more about the Hirschian school in Frankfurt and the relationship between his grandfather and Rabbi Marcus Horovitz:

I cannot vouch that my grandfather never accidentally found himself in the presence of Rabbi Horovitz. He certainly tried hard to avoid this. The social rift in Frankfurt between the two orthodox congregations was proverbial. It existed even between different branches of the same family. There were quite a few members of the IRG, even such that were not also members of the other community, who transgressed the tabu [against entering the Gemeinde synagogue] and their number probably increased after World War I. There was no Austritt indoctrination in the IRG school, probably out of consideration for the students whose parents were non-members. There were also members of the faculty who were less than enthusiastic Austritt fanatics.

After reading my dissertation he wrote to me:

Leaving aside your study a certain affinity occurred to me between Rav Weinberg and R. Jacob Emden.

To what you write about R. Weinberg’s responsum about co-education in the Yeshurun organization, I might add that in the late fifties I wrote to R. Weinberg asking him whether his p’sak was applicable to the Esra movement in Israel in which I was active. He never replied, but sent word by a messenger encouraging me to continue my educational activity without swerving to the right After his death I discovered that he had asked two of his students in Montreux to draft a response to my letter. The drafts are in my possession. They contradict each other. One of the two authors now teaches at a yeshiva in Bene Berak.

In his German volume on the history of German Orthodoxy, Breuer mentions that in R. Seligman Baer Bamberger’s synagogue there was no Frauengitter. I assumed that this meant that there was no mehitzah in the famed Wuerzberger Rav’s shul, and I wrote to him to inquire. He replied:

The “Frauengitter” mentioned in my note on p. 375 is the common German translation of mechitzah. It signifies some sort of lattice which was put on top of the parapet which surrounded the women’s gallery (or balcony). The parapet was low enough to allow the women to watch what was going on in the men’s hall downstairs. The lattice (“Gitter”) did not quite conceal the women from the men’s eyes; its significance was mainly symbolical. The lack of this lattice was one of the compromises made here and there with the Reform synagogues where women sat on the balcony, yet in full view of the men since there was no lattice.

This was very helpful to me since in the next issue of Milin Havivin I am publishing something relating to the great controversy in Frankfurt over who would succeed Rabbi Shlomo Zalman Breuer as rabbi of the Hirschian kehillah. Prof. Breuer’s uncle, Rabbi Raphael Breuer, was the rabbi of Aschaffenburg, and the family obviously wanted him to step into his father’s position. However, the members of the community refused to give him their support. One of the issues brought up against Rabbi Raphael was that his synagogue did not a proper mehitzah. I was unable to find any description of exactly what the problem was. Prof. Breuer could not recall either, although as a child he had been to the synagogue on a couple of occasions. He did, however, remind me that his uncle’s predecessor was R. Simcha Bamberger, a son of the Wuerzburger Rav. I therefore assume that the “problem” with the Aschaffenburg mehitzah was the lack of latticework on top of the partition.

After gaining so much from Professor Breuer, I was happy that I was able to give him a present — a copy of a manuscript letter from Hirsch. I didn’t even know what it said, as I found it impossible to read the old handwriting. He wrote to me as follows:

The letter is quite important. R. Hirsch was asked about the relative significance of the Sabbath in Jewish law. I guess the question arose through some discussion with German authorities. They compared the Sabbath to the Christian Sunday. R. Hirsch showed by citing biblical and rabbinical sources that in Jewish law and practice the Sabbath ranked much higher than any other day of rest or festival.

I had hoped that Breuer would be able to publish the letter himself, complete with an introduction. But alas, it was not meant to be. Beli neder, I shall do so.
Despite his age, Prof. Breuer was always prompt in answering all of my questions, and I will be forever grateful. I am also in his debt for another reason. No doubt realizing that he would not be able to write about everything in his files, he offered to give me unpublished material relating to the controversy over the talmudic commentaries of R. Joseph Zvi Duenner, chief rabbi of Amsterdam. Needless to say, I was thrilled, and I thank my friend, Aharon Wexler, who went to his house, picked up the material, and mailed it to me. I hope to be able to publish it before too long.

For those who don’t know, Duenner’s approach anticipated that of Halivni in some respects, primarily in the assumption that the answers given by the amoraim, while binding for halakhic purposes, are not necessarily the best explanation of the Mishnah. Duenner also pointed to a couple of passages in the Talmud — both of which are in the current daf yomi tractate — which he believed are interpolations from the heretics, intended to mock the rabbis. He claimed that the rabbis would never have discussed the case of one who falls off a roof and while landing on a woman has sex with her (a highly improbable scenario, to put it mildly), or that a holy sage would come into a new town and announce that he was looking for a wife for the night (Yevamot 37b, 54a). According to Duenner, these texts are the product of those intending to mock the rabbis, and were unfortunately taken by later scholars as authentic.

Breuer’s grandfather, Rabbi S. Z. Breuer, was one of the leading opponents of Duenner, going so far as to threaten to place him into herem if he didn’t stop publishing his hiddushim, and put the ones already in print into genizah. Duenner refused, and the threat of a herem was never carried out. His hiddushim were later reprinted by Mossad ha-Rav Kook, and some unpublished material was also included in this new edition.

Dr. Marc B. Shapiro holds the Weinberg Chair in Judaic Studies, Department of Theology and Religious Studies, University of Scranton. He is the author of Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, 1884-1966 (London: Littman Library, 1999) previous posts at the Seforim blog include “Uncensored Books” and an obituary for Rabbi Yosef Buxbaum zt”l, founder and publisher of Machon Yerushalayim.

Notes:
[1] It is even more ironic that the bête noire of Hirsch and S. Z. Breuer, R. Mordechai Horovitz (the Matteh Levi), has a descendant, R. Baruch Horovitz, who runs the fairly haredi Dvar Yerushalayim Yeshiva. In fact, when Rabbi Horovitz reprinted the Matteh Levi in 1979, he received a haskamah from R. Yitzhak Yaakov Weiss, Av Beit Din of the Edah Haredit and a man far removed from the cultured and tolerant Orthodoxy of the Matteh Levi. (Of course, what some would call “tolerant Orthodoxy,” Hirsch and S.Z. Breuer regarded as fraudelent Orthodoxy.)

[2] See Mordechai Breuer, The “Torah-im-derekh-eretz” of Samson Raphael Hirsch (Jerusalem, New York, Feldheim, 1970)
[3] See Mordechai Breuer, Oholei Torah: The Yeshiva, Its Structure and History (Merkaz Zalman Shazar 2003)
[4] See my “A Letter of Criticism Directed Against the Yeshivah of Eisenstadt,” Ha-Maayan 34 (Tishrei, 5754 [1993]), 15-25 (in Hebrew).
[5] Ha-Rav Yonah Merzbach: Pirkei Hayyim, Darko U-Fe’alav (Bnei Brak, 2004)



The Story of the Publisher of the Forged Yerushalmi Kodshim

Most are aware of the famous forgery perpetrated by Shlomo Yehuda Friedlaender at the beginning of the 20th century – the Yerushalmi on Seder Kodshim. (For background see here). Recently, R. Baruch Oberlander has written a series of articles, which appeared in Or Yisrael, further illuminating this episode.

Now, the great-grandson of the publisher (Ya’akov Weider who was killed in the Holocaust) of this Yerushalmi offers the story behind his great-grandfather decision to publish this book. (link) He also defends the decision of his ancestor to publish this work, noting that prior to publication he received approval from various Rabbinic authorities. Unfortunately, due to the large expense involved and that it quickly became apparent that it was a forgery, the great-grandfather lost a significant amount of money on this endeavor.

The article also notes that two announcements were published heralding the publication, one to Rabbis and the like and the other, a slightly different version to academics. It is worthwhile noting that not only were their two announcements, there were actually two editions of the Yerushalmi. One aimed at Yeshiva students and the like and again, the other, academics. The former was printed on poor paper and only contains a Hebrew title page. The latter was printed on good paper and includes a German title page (where Friedlaender becomes Dr. Friedlaender).




The Recently Published Photographs of Rav Yisrael Salanter: Real or Imaginary?

The Recently Published Photographs of Rav Yisrael Salanter: Real or Imaginary?

By Shnayer Leiman

As early as 2006, and continuing through 2022, a flurry of photographs, purporting to bear the likeness of Rav Yisrael Salanter, have either appeared in print or have been posted on the Internet (see below, section II). While the publication of these photos certainly attests to his abiding influence well into the 21st century, their authenticity seems less than certain, and demands investigation. At the very least, one wonders why the likeness of a world renowned rabbi, who died in 1883, did not come to light until almost 125 years after his death![1]

I. The Early Evidence for What R. Yisrael Salanter Looked Like.

A proper discussion of what R. Yisrael actually looked like must begin with an examination of the testimony of his contemporaries who interacted with him and knew him best. The Torah teaches us (at Dt.19:15) that a matter can be established by two or three witnesses, so we shall present below the testimony of three witnesses who knew R. Yisrael personally.[2]

1. In 1899, Emil Benjamin, published the first biography of Rav Yisrael Salanter.[3] At the time, Benjamin served as a teacher of Jewish religion in Memel, Prussia, a port city on the Baltic Sea with some 1000 Jews (today: Kleipeda in Lithuania). Benjamin, a native of Memel, was a disciple of R. Zvi Hirsh Plato (1822-1910) who was a son-in law of R. Samson Raphael Hirsch. R. Plato served as Rav of the separatist Orthodox community of Cologne, and head of its Teacher’s Seminary, where Benjamin was trained as a teacher. Benjamin was a young man between 1857 and 1878, the very years that R. Yisrael Salanter spent many a year in Memel, which served as a base of operations for his various educational activities in Lithuania, Prussia, Germany, and France. R. Yisrael invited Benjamin to serve as his aid during a significant portion of those years, and Benjamin wisely accepted the invitation. Intimately involved in R. Yisrael’s daily affairs, Benjamin was in a unique position to record for posterity what it was like to be in his presence. Benjamin wrote:[4]

Rabbi Lipkin was of medium height, seemingly strong but lean in stature, and of ordinary build. His outward appearance immediately revealed a man of unusual significance. The broad forehead, the interesting character reflected by the shape of his head, the sharp look, all reflected the great thinker that he was. His countenance was almost always flush red, probably due to the struggle between body and spirit within him. Often he was lost in thought, and he seemed to forget everything around him, and appeared to be talking to himself. In spite of his deep seriousness, his conversation was often spiced with a pleasant sense of humor and whimsical thoughts…Curiously, this humble and unselfish man never consented to allow the features of his face to be painted by the artist’s brush and, thus, to be preserved for posterity. [Italics mine, sl]

2. Yaakov Mark (1856-1929) was a graduate of the Telz Yeshiva (in Telshe, Lithuania) who devoted a good portion of his life to training Jews (in a variety of languages) to master bookkeeping, so that they could gain and hold jobs in the various countries where they would ultimately find themselves.[5] He also devoted his later years to making literary contributions to Hebrew and Yiddish periodical literature. His only book, entitledגדולים פון אונזער צייט (New York, 1927),[6] is devoted to biographies of the key persons that he knew personally, such as R. Hayyim Soloveichik, the Malbim, and R. Yisrael Salanter. His opening line regarding R. Yisrael Salanter reads: “In my younger years, I often had the privilege of meeting with R. Yisrael. I heard his public lectures, his private lectures, and had the opportunity to observe him at close range.” In his book, he writes:[7]

All who encountered him when walking in the streets, whether Jew or Gentile, greeted him courteously. Even in the most crowded street of Berlin it was rare that a passerby would not stop to behold the great thinker, who used to wander about while engrossed in deep thought. All were impressed by his stately figure, his especially handsome beard, and his particularly character-full head with its unusually wide forehead, his red-white face, his blue eyes, with his sharp, yet good-natured look. This, despite the fact that he never wore official rabbinic garb but, rather, simple lay dress, with an ordinary hat on his head – not particularly elegant – but always clean and tidy. How sad that no photograph of him exists! It was simply impossible to get him to agree to sit for a painting or a photograph. [Italics mine, sl]

3. David Sidersky (circa 1858-1943), a grandson of R. Yisrael Salanter who edited אמרי בינה (Warsaw, 1878), the first ספר by R. Yisrael that was printed during his lifetime and that listed his name as the author, also published a biography of his grandfather in 1936-7.[8] Sidersky wrote as follows:[9]

R. Yisrael, under no circumstances, allowed himself to be photographed. Indeed, not a trace of his image exists. [Italics mine, sl] This, however, is what he looked like: he was of medium height, handsome, with glowing face. He had a full beard, with curls surrounding its edges. He spoke pleasantly, and always greeted everyone warmly.

If one reads the full biographical accounts of R. Yisrael Salanter by the three witnesses listed above, it becomes quite obvious that these are three independent accounts. Each records significant material about R. Yisrael Salanter that does not appear in the other accounts.[10] But there can be no question that Mark was influenced by Benjamin’s account, and that Sidersky was influenced by both Benjamin and Mark. The literary influence of the earlier accounts on the later accounts is obvious, even in the snippets translated above. Nonetheless, notice that only Benjamin mentions R. Yisrael’s sense of humor; only Mark refers to R. Yisrael’s blue eyes; and only Sidersky notes the curls that surrounded the edge of R. Yisrael’s full beard.

II. What Might R. Yisrael Salanter Not Have Looked Like?[11]

1. In 2006-2008, R. Shlomo Lorincz – a political leader of Agudat Yisrael during 1951-1984 and a חבר כנסת – published his classic work במחיצתם של גדולי התורה. In vol. 2, p. 14,[12] there appeared a striking photograph, with the name רבי ישראל סלנטר under it.

The photo appears to be that of a young R. Yisrael Salanter, perhaps 35- 45 years old. If so, the photo would have been taken between 1845 and 1855, at a time when the camera was mostly unknown and unavailable to the general public in Eastern Europe. One need not guess about the true identity of the person photographed. It is R. Yitzchak Lipkin (d. 1903), a son of R. Yisrael Salanter. Rav and Darshan, he was a distinguished תלמיד חכם who held several rabbinic posts in Lithuania before settling in Eretz Yisrael, where he died in his early 60’s.[13] Three photographs of him have been preserved by the Lipkin family. Aside from the early photo published by Lorincz, see below for two photos from a later period in his life:[14]

All that needs to concern us here is that R. Yitzchak Lipkin was R. Yisrael Salanter’s son, and not R. Yisrael Salanter himself. The photograph is a real picture of R. Yitzchak Lipkin, and an imaginary one of R. Yisrael Salanter. Not surprisingly, in later editions of במחיצתם של גדולי התורה , the misidentified photo was pulled. Thus, vol. 2, p. 14 now looks like this:[15]

2. On February 2, 2011, Jewish Currents magazine published the following tribute to R. Israel Salanter on his yahrzeit:

Not an ardent reader of Jewish Currents magazine (described by Wikipedia as a “a progressive, secular Jewish quarterly magazine and news site whose content reflects the politics of the Jewish left), I did not see this when it first appeared in print. It was brought to my attention later in 2011 by an East European Jewish historian about to publish an essay on R. Yisrael Salanter. She saw the tribute – and its photograph — on the Internet and was considering adding the photograph to her essay. She expressed surprise, since she had never seen a photograph of R. Yisrael Salanter. I immediately sent the following brief note to Jewish Currents magazine:

Thanks for remembering R. Israel Salanter on the day he died in 1883. Lest anyone be misled by the appended photograph, it clearly is a twentieth century photograph of someone other than R. Israel Salanter. In fact, it is a photograph of a Rumanian born rabbi (not a Litvak), Jacob Shachter, who was born after Salanter died. Shachter served with distinction as a rabbi in Manchester, England, then as rabbi in Belfast, Ireland. He died in Jerusalem in 1971.

Of course, I informed the East European scholar to cease and desist. Here I’ll add a bit more about Rabbi Shachter. He was a prolific author, whose publications included two very important works: a) A kind of Torah Shelemah on the Book of Proverbs, which gathers together all of Talmudic Commentary (Bavli and Yerushalmi) on the verses of Proverbs. It is entitled: ספר משלי בדברי חזל עם ביאור דברי יעקב (Jerusalem, 1963 and later editions), and b) The Student’s Guide Through the Talmud by Z. H. Chajes, translated, edited, and critically annotated by Jacob Shachter (London, 1952 and later editions). For our purposes, we need only to look at the title pages and frontispieces of two of his other publications, one in Hebrew and one on English: דברים לדוד (Jerusalem, 1966) and Ingathering: Collected Papers, Essays and Addresses (Jerusalem, 1966):

Clearly, the Shachter photo cannot pass for what R. Yisrael Salanter looked like. Even if we couldn’t identify the Shachter photo, a simple comparison of the beard in the photo with R. Yisrael Salanter’s beard as described by the testimony of eyewitnesses who knew him (“full beard, with curls surrounding its edges”) would have sufficed to disqualify the photo as a candidate for the actual likeness of R. Yisrael Salanter. In sum, the photograph is a real picture of R. Jacob Shachter, and an imaginary one of R. Yisrael Salanter.

3. On January 22, 2022, a YWN [Yeshiva World News] posting opened with a large imaginary photograph of R. Yisrael Salanter. It was, in fact, once again a photo of R. Jacob Shachter. To the credit of YWN, as soon as they were informed of the error the photograph was removed and replaced with a scan of the title page of R. Yitzchak Blaser’s classic anthology of R. Yisrael Salanter’s teaching, אור ישראל (Vilna, 1900).

4. In March of 2022, Rabbi Berel Wein’s Struggles, Challenges, and Tradition (Shaar Press) appeared in print. It is a magnificently produced volume, filled with vintage Rabbi Berel Wein wisdom. Alas, on p. 129 R. Jacob Shachter appears once again as R. Yisrael Salanter. One suspects that the culprit was an editorial assistant in charge of locating photos for the volume. Hopefully, the error will be corrected in the Second Impression.

We have listed 4 samples of misrepresentation of R. Yisrael Salanter. There are many more.[16] All one has to do is Google “Rabbi Israel Salanter.” One will see immediately many of the fake news photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter. And if you click on each one of the fakes, names like JewishHistory.org and Torah-Box.net will turn up. But it is neither history nor Torah, it is fake news. Sadly, once fake news is posted on the Internet, it multiplies even more rapidly than the Jews did in ancient Egypt. The Internet can be likened to the kind of sinner the Rabbis spoke about in b. Yoma 86b: כיון שעבר אדם עבירה ושנה בהנעשו לו כהיתר “Once a person sins, and repeats the sin, he considers it permissible.” Indeed, once fake news is posted on the Internet, it is not merely considered possible news, it almost immediately becomes authoritative news. The only remedy, if there is one, is to never post in haste, and to post only after much review, including review by others. Moreover, any and all errors need to be corrected as quickly as possible on the very site where the posting first appeared.

Notes:

[1] None of the authors (listed below in section II) who posted photographs of R. Yisrael Salanter took the trouble to source, or verify the authenticity of, the photographs they posted. Methodologically, it is essential that any materials, whether manuscripts or photographs, published some 100 or more years after the death of the person they are ascribed to, or identified with, be verified. This is especially the case when a plethora of historical biographies and scholarly studies already exist on the key person involved – as is the case regarding R. Yisrael Salanter – and the existence of the posted photographs has eluded all of them. For the basic bibliography on R. Yisrael Salanter (through 1993), see Immanuel Etkes, Rabbi Israel Salanter and the Mussar Movement (Philadelphia, 1993), pp. 373-379; and Hillel Goldberg, Israel Salanter: Text, Structure, Idea (New York, 1982), pp. 309-329. Much more of significance has been published since then (e.g., ספר הזכרון קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak. 2003); Hayyim Yitzchak Lipkin, ed., תורת רבי ישראל מסלנט (Jerusalem, 2003); and קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak, 2014).

[2] Many other witnesses could have been adduced. See, for example, R. Baruch Epstein, מקור ברוך (Vilna, 1928), vol. 4, pp. 1800-1804, for a vivid account of a chance encounter with R. Yisrael Salanter in Vilna, 1879. Our purpose here is not to overwhelm the reader with sources. Rather, it is to gather the most persuasive sources, and not more than necessary.

[3] Rabbi Jsrael Lipkin Salant: Sein Leben und Wirken (Berlin, 1899).

[4] Op. cit., pp. 34-35. The German original reads: “Rabbi Lipkin war von mittelhoher, ziemlich kräftiger aber hagerer Natur und von regelmässigem Körperbau. Schon seine äussere Erscheinung liess sogleich einen Mann von ungewöhnlicher Bedeutung erkennen. Die mächtige Stirn, der interessante Charakter- kopf, der scharfe Blick verrieten den grossen Denker. Sein Antlitz war fast beständig gerötet, wohl infolge des aufgehobenen Gleichgewichts zwischen Körper und Geist. Oft war er derart in Gedanken versunken, dass er alles um sich herum zu vergessen schien und im Alleingespräch mit sich selber beschäftig war… Merkwürdiger Weise hat dieser bescheidene und selbstlose Mann niemals seine Einwilligung dazu gegeben, dass die Züge seines Antlitzes durch den Pinsel eines Malers nachgeahmt und der Nachwelt erhalten würden.”

[5] See Yaakov Mark’s entry in לעקסיקאן פון דער נייער יידישער ליטעראטור (New York, 1963), vol. 5, column 514.

[6] A much abridged, and freely translated, Hebrew version of Mark’s גדולים פון אונזער צייט appeared under the title במחיצתם של גדולי הדור (Jerusalem, 1958). An accurate English translation of the original Yiddish volume would make a significant contribution to Jewish scholarship and culture.

[7] גדולים פון אונזער צייט, pp. 88-89. The Yiddish original reads:

אלע וועלכע פלעגען איהם באגעגענען אויפן גאס, סיי אידען סיי גוים, האבען איהם
העפליכסט באגריסט. זאגאר אין די לעבהאפטסטע גאסן פון בערלין פלעגט זעלטען
ווער איהם גלייכגילטיג פארבייגעהן און זיך ניט אפשטעלען באוואונדערן דעם
גרויסען דענקער, וואס פלעגט שטענדיג ארומגעהן פארזונקען אין געדאנקען
אימפאנירט האט אלעמען זיין שטאטליכע פיגור, זיין וואנדערבארשעהנעם הדרת
פנים, זיין אינטערעסאנטער כאראקטערקאפ מיטן גוואלדיגען ברייטען שטערן און
.וויסרויטליכען פנים, זיינע בלויע אויגען מיטן שארפען גוטמוטהיגען בליק
,טראצדעם וואס ער איז קיינמאל ניט געגאנגען אין אויפפאלענדע רבנישע קליידער
נאר אין פשוטע בעלהביתישע, מיט א געוועהנליכער היטעל אויפן קאפ און אויך
,ניט באזונדערס עלעגאנט, נאר שטענדיג געווען ריין און זויבער. א גרויסער שאדען
וואס פון איהם איז קיין שום בילד ניט נאכגעבליבען. מען האט בשוםאופן ביי איהם
.ניט געקענט פועלן זיך צו לאזען מאלען אדער פאטאגראפירען

[8] David Sidersky, רישראל סאלאנטר זל: תולדות חייו ופעולותיו“, היהודי (1936-7) 2:4, pp. 57-60; 2:5, pp. 81-84; 2:6, pp. 112-114; 2:8, pp. 153-155.

[9] היהודי (1937) 2:8, p. 155. The Hebrew original reads:

ישראל לא רצה בשום אופן להצטלם ולא נשאר שום זכרון מדמות דיוקנו
וזה תבניתו: קומה בינונית, יפה תואר עם פנים מאירים, זקנו מגודל וקוצותיו
.תלתלים, שיחתו היתה בנעימות והיה מקבל תמיד את כל אדם בסבר פנים יפות

[10] Most notably, Sidersky’s account is the only one (of the three accounts) that lists the names of R. Yisrael’s (and his wife Esther’s) six children (four sons and two daughters): Malkah Hindah, Shmuel, Aryeh Leib, Hodah Libah, Yitzchak, and Yom Tov Lipman.

[11] The formulation of the question is a playful echo of the title of the essay by Shimon Steinmetz entitled “What Might R. Yisrael Salanter Have Looked Like?,” On the Main Line, March 2, 2010. That essay was part II of his previous essay entitled “What Did R. Yisrael Salanter Look Like?,” On the Main Line, March 23, 2006. Both essays are must reading for this topic.

[12] במחיצתם של גדולי התורה (Jerusalem, 2006-8), 2 vols.

[13] For important writings by, and about, R. Yitzchak Lipkin, see R. Hayyim Yehoshua Kosovsky, ed., חוט המשולש (Jerusalem, 1904); R. Yitzchak Lipkin, לוחות אבנים (Jerusalem, 1978); and “רשימות רבי יצחק ליפקין בן רבינו” in ספר הזכרון קדוש ישראל (Bnei Brak, 2003), pp. 97-100.

[14] Cf. the Steinmetz essays cited above, n. 11.

[15] במחיצתם של גדולי התורה (Jerusalem, 2010), fifth edition, vol . 2, p. 14.

[16] On September 24, 2020, an essay was posted on the Internet entitled “Eating by Example on Yom Kippur, an Epidemic Story.” It revisited the story of R. Yisrael Salanter’s response to the cholera epidemic in Vilna in 1848. Once again, a photo of Rabbi Jacob Shachter was prominently displayed as the likeness of R. Yisrael Salanter.




Final Response

 Final Response

By Marc B. Shapiro

In response to Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s strong criticisms of my Limits of Orthodox Theology, I wrote four responses on the Seforim Blog. You can view them hereherehere, and here. I then stopped responding even though there are still many criticisms I could have commented on. Readers can compare Grossman’s arguments with my replies and draw their own judgment. Grossman has recently responded to my posts and offered further criticisms in an article published in Dialogue. See here.

I do not wish to respond to all of his points in his new article, but I feel I need to make some comments and then I will leave this matter and let the readers decide which side is more compelling. Because Grossman complains in his article that “the merits of the arguments are easily lost in the loose internet format and enthusiastic cheering of his online supporters,” I have decided not to allow comments to this post. I can only express my regret at the style that Grossman chose to adopt in his articles. Had he written in an appropriate fashion then it would have been possible to have had a constructive discussion and debate.

P. 161: “DIALOGUE editors offered the author, Dr. Marc Shapiro, an opportunity to respond directly in these pages. He chose instead to issue a response on his own blog, where he wrote a number of lengthy posts in his defense.”

Dialogue never offered me an opportunity to respond in the journal. The Seforim Blog is not my own blog. I am a writer on it like lots of others.

P. 162: “In his [Shapiro’s] view, the tenets of belief are Rambam’s innovations and are therefore disputable.” The word “innovation” implies that the Rambam invented the doctrines he includes in his principles. I never said such a thing.

P. 163: In giving examples of supposed distortions in my book, Grossman writes: “One example is when Shapiro cites Rivash in support of the statement that Christians believe in a three-part God while the Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God – a clear rejection of the Second Principle. A quick glance at Rivash reveals that he does indeed say such a thing as a quote from a philosopher, which he then proceeds to debunk.”

I would like readers to take a look at the relevant page of my book (p. 40) and see if what Grossman says is correct, that I cited Rivash in support of the statement that Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God.

Pp. 166-167. Readers should see my discussion here. I cite a number of sources that support what I say, and thus contrary to what Grossman states, I do not just insist on my right to offer an interpretation. In note 21 Grossman writes: “Dr. Shapiro attempts to salvage his theory by speculating that the Vilna Gaon may not have really meant what he wrote.” Readers can turn to my discussion here and will see that I never said that.

p. 173. We see here an example of how Grossman just talks past me, leading to nothing productive. I had questioned why in the Mishneh Torah the Rambam did not require that the convert be instructed in the Thirteen Principles. In his original essay, Grossman criticized this question which he said showed lack of understanding of the method of the Mishneh Torah. In my response here I cite rabbinic authorities who deal with this very question, thus showing that it is not an ignorant point, as Grossman portrayed it. One of those I cite is R. Chaim Sofer who writes [1]:

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

Grossman replies that while I quote R. Sofer, I neglect “to apprise [my] readers of R. Sofer’s subsequent words ‘Rambam didn’t add to the talmudic formula,’ exactly as I had written and directly in contradiction to Dr. Shapiro’s position.”

Here is the paragraph from R. Sofer.

R. Sofer says exactly what I quote him as saying. The final passage in the paragraph, which is mistranslated by Grossman, has nothing to do with my point and does not refute it in any way.

I would also note that in his fascinating Ha-Emunah ha-Ne’emanah, p. 142, R. Dovid Cohen offers an explanation as to why אין לומדים כל י”ג עקרים טרם שיתגייר הגר

P. 174. In Limits I discuss different approaches to the phenomenon of tikkun soferim. While the generally accepted approach is that tikkun soferim is not to be taken literally, I cite a number of authorities who did take it literally and assumed that Ezra or the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah made changes to biblical texts (including the Torah). In a later post here (which has nothing to do with Grossman), I cited some other examples of sources that understood tikkun soferim literally. One of those I mentioned is R. Pesach Finfer.[2] He states as follows:

ראוי הי‘ עזרא שתנתן התורה על ידו . . . והוא ונחמי‘ עשו תיקון סופרים וכינויי סופרים

Grossman says that it is unclear what I see in this line. What I see is that R. Finfer states that Ezra and Nehemiah were responsible for tikkunei soferim. This is the same language that is used in other sources that take the notion of tikkun soferim literally. For those who don’t take it literally, Ezra has nothing to do with tikkun soferim. Following the sentence I quoted from R. Finfer, he refers in parenthesis to Radbaz’s comment which offers a different perspective, that tikkun soferim is halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai. Here is the page.

While on the topic of tikkun soferim, let me share something else that is relevant. In Limits I mentioned that the evidence points to Rashi understanding tikkun soferim literally, namely, that the biblical text was changed by the Scribes. There was some pushback to this assertion by those could not accept that Rashi would ever hold such a position. Yet subsequent to my book, Yeshayahu Maori also came to the conclusion that Rashi understood tikkun soferim literally.[3] Furthermore, R. Avraham Pessin also explains that Rashi understands tikkun soferim literally.[4] He states that according to Rashi the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah had the authority to alter the text of the Torah:

ומבואר ברש”י שניתן הכח לאנשי כנסת הגדולה לשנות גם תורה שבכתב

I find this significant, because although one can point to numerous statements that such an approach in unacceptable, R. Pessin sees it as the clear meaning of Rashi (and among traditional interpreters he is not alone in this understanding[5]). Here are the pages from R. Pessin’s sefer.

Speaking of tikkun soferim, the most famous of which is Gen. 18:22: ‘ואברהם עודנו עומד לפני ה, I found something in R. Solomon Algazi’s Yavin Shemuah (Venice, 1639), p. 15a, which is fascinating and, as far as I know, unique in rabbinic literature. It is also in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle which establishes that the Torah in its entirety was delivered by God to Moses. In discussing ‘ואברהם עודנו עמוד לפני ה, R. Algazi claims that when God dictated the Torah to Moses, He said that God was standing before Abraham. But Moses on his own, out of respect for God, changed the verse to read that Abraham was standing before God. I guess we can say that this falls between the traditional view that the verse was never changed and the view that the Scribes altered the verse out of respect for God. For R. Algazi it was Moses who made the alteration, but as far as Maimonides is concerned, this is just as problematic as viewing tikkun soferim as an alteration of the Scribes. Here is R. Algazi’s surprising interpretation.

כיון דהב”ה היה אומר לו על כל מלה כתוב א”כ ודאי דהב”ה אמר לו וה’ עודנו עומד דלא איש אל ויכזב ומשה היה משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב ואברהם עודנו עומד א”כ מה שייך בזה הלכה למשה מסיני והוא על דרך המשל שדוד המלך יאמר לסופר מהי’ [מהיר] כתוב שדוד מצוה לפלוני והסופר משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב המלך דוד אבל המלך בעצמו אינו אומר כתוב המלך מצוה כך הב”ה יתעל’ לא אמר למשה שהיה סופר כתוב ואברהם עודנו עומד שהוא דרך כבוד אלא אמר לו האמת וה’ עודנו עומד ומשה שינה על דרך תיקון סופרים

Pp. 175-176. I wrote here: “Even when it comes to other basic ideas of Maimonides, which are not included as part of the Thirteen Principles, we find that scholars wondered why Maimonides did not include them in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah.” I then cited Joseph Ibn Caspi in support of this statement. Here is the page from Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113.

What I would add here is the interesting point that Ibn Caspi, Commentary on Guide 2:32, actually concludes that the Mishneh Torah’s formulation is in line with Maimonides’ true view, namely, that prophecy is a completely natural phenomenon which will of necessity occur if someone has both the ability and training. On the hand, he thinks that the view expressed in Guide 2:32 as being the “opinion of our Law and foundation of our doctrine”, namely, that God might prevent a prophet from prophesying, is not Maimonides’ true opinion, but is an example of the famous “seventh contradiction”.

Grossman is also mistaken when he writes, “In Moreh Nevuchim [2:32], Rambam argues—in opposition to the philosophers—that prophecy is only activated proactively by God, even if the requisite conditions are met.” Maimonides actually says the exact opposite of this. He states that the Torah view of prophecy is identical to the philosophic view except that God can choose, if He wishes, to prevent someone from prophesying even though according to nature he would be a prophet. This is the opposite of what Grossman states, that “prophecy is only activated proactively by God.”

Pp. 176-177: I stated that the notion that Maimonides changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment among the Principles was suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm. To this Grossman replies that Maimonides did not withdraw his belief in Reward and Punishment. It is just that in the Mishneh Torah he classified things differently. Again, Grossman misunderstands. I never said that Maimonides rejected the idea of Reward and Punishment. I was only referring to whether it should be included as part of the Thirteen Principles. As R. Solomon of Chelm explains, Maimonides’ later understanding is that Reward and Punishment is included as part of other principles and thus does not need to be listed separately.

Pp. 177-178. Grossman claims that I cite R. Avraham Hochman in an improper way, and in response R. Hochman states that the entire theme of his sefer “is to show that Rambam’s Principles are absolute and that he derived all of the Thirteen Principles from the Talmud.” He also is quoted as saying, “Academics often quote a question and forget that for the wise, the question is half the answer. But the professors stick to the question and don’t wait around for the answer.” Grossman then speaks of my “brazenness of citing a recognized authority to promote a position that the author himself openly rejects.”

I don’t know if R. Hochman reads English, and could see what I actually wrote, or if he only is responding to what Grossman told him. Either way, his letter, published at the end of Grossman’s article, is a complete distortion of my position. Leaving aside the particular examples that people can see, look at this characterization:

ולפי הבנה מוטעית זו שפך חמתו על הרמבם מנין לו לחדש הלכה שאינה במשנה . . .

Talk about describing a writer inaccurately!

And what is one to make of this statement from him?

אין שום חולק על עיקר מיסודי הדת אלא שנחלקו על מספר העיקרים

It is precisely against such a false view that I wrote my book in the first place. A typical response to the book has been that the opinions in opposition to Maimonides are “not accepted.” But here he denies that anyone actually disagrees with any of Maimonides’ principles. With such an outlook, we can’t even begin to have a dialogue.

The following paragraphs are what I quoted from R. Hochman. Nothing I quote here has any connection to what Grossman states or what R. Hochman writes in his letter responding to my supposed incorrect conclusions that I derived from his words. As the reader can see, contrary to what R. Hochman states, I mention not just his question but his answer as well. Of all of Grossman’s criticisms this one is very difficult to understand, because there is nothing at all controversial in what I write, and my summary of R. Hochman is accurate.

As for my wondering why the Principles are not listed together as a unit, which Grossman sees as an illustration of how I am unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah, let me begin by repeating what I wrote in my last post: R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, on the very first page of his commentary Mishnat Yaakov to Sefer ha-Madda, also wonders about the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. (Had I known this when I wrote my book, I certainly would have cited it.)

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמב“ם בספרו ה”יד החזקה” את הענין הזה של י“ג עיקרי האמונה, וצ”ע

R. Avraham Menahem Hochman writes:

מאחר וכל כך חמורה הכפירה, וגדולה החובה לדעת את י”ג העיקרים, כיצד זה השמיטם מספרו ה”יד החזקה”, ולא כתבם כפי שסדרם בפירוש המשנה

והנה אחר שהתבאר שהאמונה בי”ג העיקרים היא בסיס לתורה נשוב לשאלה הרביעית (בסוף פרק ה’) אשר לכאורה היא פליאה עצומה מדוע השמיט הרמב”ם ביד החזקה את החובה הגדולה להאמין בי”ג עיקרים, באופן חיובי, ולא סדרם כי”ג יסודי האמונה שחובה להאמין בהם

R. Hochman goes on to explain that most of the Principles are indeed mentioned in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah in a positive sense (even if not as a unit of Thirteen Principles). He also notes the following important point, that when principles of faith are mentioned in the Talmud, they are never listed in a positive sense, that one must believe X. Rather, they are listed in a negative sense, that one who denies X has no share in the World to Come. Why Maimonides, in his Commentary on the Mishnah, chose to formulate the Principles in a positive sense and require active belief as a necessity for all Jews—something the Talmud never explicitly required—is an interesting point which we will come back to. Regarding some of the Principles the difference is clear. For example, according to the Talmud, denial of Resurrection is heresy, but one who has never heard of the Resurrection and thus does not deny it, or affirm it, is a Jew in good standing. For Maimonides, however, the doctrine of Resurrection must be positively affirmed. In a future post we can come back to which Principles even the Talmud implicitly requires positive affirmation of (obviously number 1, belief in God, but there could be others as well).

After reading these paragraphs, please look at Grossman’s article, pp. 177-178, and R. Hochman’s letter, pp. 188-191, and you will see that nothing there has any connection to what I actually say when referring to R. Hochman. I simply cite him to show that the question I asked is not an ignorant one, as Grossman stated. I also cite R. Hochman’s answer. So Grossman’s seizing on this and printing a lengthy letter from R. Hochman is nothing short of bizarre.

Pp. 178-179. Grossman writes:

Things really start to go “off the rails” when we examine Shapiro’s claim in the name of R. Shlomo Fisher, zatzal, that one need not accept Mosaic authorship, that the Rambam abandoned his principles, and that “Rambam’s formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief was far from universally accepted.”

Grossman responds that he found these attributions questionable so he checked with the family and students, and “they were horrified that anyone would be using R. Fisher’s name in this way.”

What exactly did I say that Grossman finds so objectionable? In Limits of Orthodox Theology, p, 126, I quote the following sentence from R. Bezalel Naor, Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (Spring Valley, 1999), p. 8: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor tells us that he heard this insight from his teacher, R. Shlomo Fisher. (Anyone needing any indication of the high regard that R. Fisher held R. Naor in can examine their published correspondence.)

Grossman sees this as a radical statement whose authenticity he cannot accept. I don’t think readers of this blog will find it radical at all. In fact, I have elsewhere mentioned that R. Fisher made this statement in discussing R. Judah he-Hasid’s view on the authorship of the Torah, which diverges from Maimonides’ Eighth Principle. Contrary to Grossman, in none of my posts did I quote R. Fisher as saying that one need not accept Mosaic authorship. I simply cited his view about R. Judah he-Hasid. I also quoted his opinion that medieval Ashkenazic authorities had a different view on the matter of complete Mosaic authorship than Maimonides in that they did not regard the assumption that there are post-Mosaic verses in the Torah as heretical (a view also argued by Prof. Haym Soloveitchik, see here). Grossman claims that R. Fisher could not have said this, even though students can testify to him having said it. In fact, I can state right here that I too heard him make this distinction.

The final point that Grossman can’t accept is what I mentioned in 2007 here, from a student who attended R. Fisher’s weekly shiur on Avnei Miluim. “Interestingly enough, he reported to me that a few weeks ago R. Fisher declared that he believes the Rambam abandoned his system of 13 Principles, the proof being that they are never mentioned as a unit in the Mishneh Torah. In my book, I noted that R. Shlomo Goren held the same view.” Grossman summarizes my statement as “the Rambam abandoned his principles,” which would lead the reader to think that I was saying that the Rambam no longer accepted the truth of his 13 Principles, which would indeed be a radical position. But what I was really talking about, and I refer to this approach in my book, is the notion that the Rambam no longer accepted a system of 13 Principles. This would mean that he adopted another model to categorize the essential dogmas of Judaism, or as R. Goren suggested, maybe he later advocated a conception of Jewish theology like that held by Abarbanel, that one should not distinguish between so-called principles of Judaism and other aspects of the religion, since all must be regarded as equal.

When all is said and done, nothing I have attributed to R. Fisher is strange, radical, or unbelievable. Why Grossman would be horrified by what I wrote is anyone’s guess.

Grossman quotes from a 2018 letter put out by R. Fisher (some might say, put out by his family). In the letter, R. Fisher writes that no one is to quote anything he said in matters of Aggadah and hashkafah without the approval of his sons. This was because in the past he had been misquoted. We all know that misquoting of gedolim is nothing new. There are numerous examples of particular great rabbis being quoted as saying contradictory things, and of these rabbis stating that no one should believe anything they hear in their names unless they hear it directly from the rabbi. Yet this has never stopped people from quoting the gedolim and never will. This is simply the nature of the world. 

R. Fisher gave thousands of shiurim (a tiny percentage of them are online) and there are thousands of students who heard words of Torah from him. As with all students, they have repeated, and will continue to repeat, that which they heard from the rav, just like all students do. They have been doing this for at least fifty years. If R. Fisher’s letter means what it says, that no one is to repeat things that R. Fisher said, then this is simply an impossible request, and it also seems unprecedented in Torah history. It would mean that one who listens to a shiur from him dealing with non-halakhic matters, e.g., this one here, is not allowed to repeat any insights he heard. It would also mean that much of what was mentioned at the many eulogies, where people recalled things R. Fisher said, or on sites such as this and this, is inappropriate. It would mean that students are not allowed to repeat that which they heard from their rebbe. I don’t see how this is possible.

P. 179. Here is something that is really comical. Take a look at this page.

Grossman states that I mention that Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto) claims that Ibn Ezra believed in post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. He writes: “Upon checking the source, we find yet another instance of Dr. Shapiro citing an author as believing something he actually vociferously denies. As Shadal points out, the primary source for this take on Ibn Ezra was the noted heretic Baruch Spinoza.”

I say this is comical since Grossman doesn’t have a clue as to what is going on here. The only way I can explain this is that Grossman merely skimmed the passage and thus misread it.

Shadal rejects Spinoza who (intentionally?) misunderstood Ibn Ezra to be hinting to the notion that Moses was not the author of the Torah.[6] This misinterpretation of Ibn Ezra is what Shadal rejects (and this is not mentioned in my book because it has nothing to do with what I was discussing). However, exactly as I said, Shadal also states that Ibn Ezra believed in certain post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. Here is the page in Shadal that I cited (as well as the subsequent page) so everyone can see it with their own eyes.

Shadal’s outlook in this matter is no secret, and he repeats this point elsewhere. See e.g., Mehkerei ha-Yahadut, vol. 2, p. 195:

מה שכתב ראב”ע ברמז, היות בתורה מקראות שנוספו בה אחר כמה דורות

In Iggerot Shadal, vol. 2, p. 246, he writes:

כי סברתו שיש בתורה מקראות נוספים קשה מדעת זולתו שקצת מלות מוטעות

In my book and subsequent posts I have identified around forty medieval and more recent authorities who share Shadal’s viewpoint in this matter.[7] Incidentally, R. Joseph Kafih, in his first work written when he was seventeen years old, attacks Shadal for attributing this view to Ibn Ezra. See Sihat Dekalim (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 90.

I must also note that Grossman does not simply miss Shadal’s meaning, but he also compares me to Spinoza in trying to ensnare the unsuspecting masses. If this wasn’t so comical, I might actually take offense. But I think readers should wonder how an author could say such a thing, and how a journal could publish it. It is simply beyond belief, made all the more absurd since Grossman is so mistaken about what Shadal actually states.

Incidentally, since we are talking about Shadal, it is worth noting that R. Elijah Benamozegh, whose commentaries on the Torah continuously dispute with Shadal, when it comes to Ibn Ezra and post-Mosaic additions, Benamozegh has the same position as Shadal. Here is what he writes in Ha-Levanon, July 3, 1872, p. 351, now easily available in the new edition of Em la-Mikra: Bereshit (Haifa, 2021), p. 114:

בראש ספר דברים ובמקומות אחרים רומז בעיניו מולל באצבעותיו ועל דלתות השער יתאו לרמוז שיש דברים בתורה נוספים ולא משה כתבם רק נביאים וצופים. ואני הפרתי את עצתו וקלקלתי את מחשבתו

P. 181. “Shapiro’s weakest scholarship appears when discussing kabbalistic matters.” I agree, which is why I try not to discuss these matters. If I do have to deal with them, I only rely on what recognized authorities have said,

P. 182. I wrote that according to Maimonides’ Seventh Principle, Moses was the greatest prophet who ever lived and there will never be a prophet as great as him in the future. Grossman says that I am mistaken, and that Maimonides does not declare that Moses was the greatest prophet, only that he was the “father of all prophets.” This statement is astounding. There are hundreds of discussions of the Seventh Principle in traditional rabbinic literature, and as far as I know they all agree with what I have written. The entire basis of the Seventh Principle is that Moses was greater than all other prophets. Maimonides states explicitly in the principle that “All are below him in rank . . . He reached a greater understanding of God than any man who ever existed or will ever exist.” This is so obvious that I do not want to spend any more time on it. It is only a mystery how Grossman could say something so wrong, and I do not know of anyone else who has ever written on this principle and made such a mistake (which Maimonides regards as heresy). Did no one from the editorial board of Dialogue read the article before publication? It is nothing short of incredible that an issue of Dialogue includes the false claim that there is no principle of faith to believe that Moses was the greatest prophet in Jewish history.

In addition to his explicit assertion that Moses was the greatest prophet, Maimonides does have an interesting formulation, stating that Moses is the father of all the prophets who preceded him and all who came after him. How can one be the “father” of those who came before him? R. Hayyim Dov Moshe Halpern explains it well[8]:

“אב” הכונה במעלה ולכן שייך לומר שהוא אב גם למי שקדם לו

Here are some passages from other authors whose books are found in my library. They all explain the principle correctly.

R. Yochanan Meir Bechhoffer writes[9]:

רבינו השווה את האמונה בעליונות משה רבינו על הנביאים הקודמים לו, לאמונה בעליונותו של הבאים אחריו. ואף כי אמת היא, שכך נחתמת התורה, לא קם כמשה וגו’, מ”מ יש לעיין מה הצורך בזה. נהי דהמאמין שאחר משה בא נביא גדול ממנו שיכול לבטל דבריו, כפר בנבואת משה, אך מה הסתירה לנבואת משה בחשבה שמי שקדם לו היתה גדול ממנו, הלוא הנביא הקדום לא יחדש דבר על פני משה

R. Ben Zion Epstein writes[10]:

ולכן נתנה למשה דוקא, כי היה דבוק כולו באין סוף ב”ה. ולכן היתה מדרגת נבואתו גדולה מכל הנביאים, ושכינה מדברת מתוך גרונו.

R. Avraham Menachem Hochman’s heading to his discussion of the Seventh Principle reads[11]:

להאמין בנבואת משה רבינו שהוא למעלה מכל הנביאים שהיו לפניו ולאחריו

And to mention one classic text (I could mention many more), R. Elchanan Wasserman writes[12]:

והנה בעיקרי הדת שמנה הרמב”ם בפירוש המשניות (פרק חלק) מנה שם עיקר אחד שכל דברי נביאים אמת, ועוד עיקר אחר שנבואת מהרע”ה היתה למעלה מנבואת כל הנביאים

R. Yaakov Weinberg in his Fundamentals and Faith, pp. 73ff. elaborates on Moses’ “prophetic superiority” (p. 81)

And finally, R. Yehudah Meir Keilson’s new edition of Kisvei ha-Rambam (which I encourage everyone to acquire), affirms my point (which as mentioned, is simply what Maimonides himself explicitly says, so it is not a question of how to interpret him).

Keilson, p. 82: “The Seventh Principle teaches that the nature of Moshe’s prophecy is unparalleled. . . . Rambam elaborates on Moshe’s prophetic superiority, which was the result of his moral and intellectual perfection.”

Keilson, p. 82 n. 1. “The title ‘father of all the prophets’ . . . Rambam takes this to refer to Moshe’s superiority in prophecy to that of all other prophets.”

Keilson, p. 154: “Rambam uses the expression that Moshe was the ‘father of all prophets’ to signify that he was the greatest of all prophets – that the level of his prophecy was superior to that of any prophet who ever was or who ever will be.”

Pp. 184-185. None of this makes any sense, and what Prof. Menachem Kellner writes has no relevance what I was referring to. I asked a simple question, which I later found that others asked as well (see here): Why does the Rambam not specify that future converts are to be instructed in the 13 Principles?

Coming next: Reviews of books by Benji Levy and Eitam Henkin, and an unknown article by R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

* * * * * * *

[1] Mahaneh Hayyim, Yoreh Deah 2, no. 25 (p. 139).
[2] Masoret ha-Torah ve-ha-Nevi’im (Vilna, 1906), p. 6. Regarding tikkun soferim as seen in the Genizah, see Joseph Ginsberg’s post here.
[3] “‘Tikkun Soferim’ ve-‘Kinah ha-Katuv’ be-Ferush Rashi la-Mikra,” in Yaakov Elman, et al., eds. Neti’ot le-David (Jerusalem, 2004), pp. 99-108.
[4] See his Temurat Ayil, Megillah, vol. 2 , pp. 93-95.
[5] In addition to the sources I have cited in Limits and here, see R. Petahyah Berdugo, Pituhei Hotam (Jerusalem, 1980), p. 187.
[6] Regarding Spinoza’s interpretation of Ibn Ezra, see Warren Zev Harvey, “Spinoza on Ibn Ezra’s “secret of the twelve,” in Yitzhak Y. Melamed and Michael A. Rosenthal, eds., Spinoza’s Theological-Political Treatise: A Critical Guide (Cambridge, 2010), pp. 41-55. See also Bezalel Naor, Ma’amar al Yishmael (Spring Valley, 1998), pp. 23-24.
[7] Shadal’s negative view of Ibn Ezra (and Maimonides) is well known. R. Jacob Bacharach’s poem in this regard is apt; Ishtadlut im Shadal (Warsaw, 1896), vol. 1, p. 19b:

הוא האיש אשר שם את הרמב”ם סיר רחצו, ועל הראב”ע השליך נעלו

[8] Hemdah Tovah (Lakewood, 2012), p. 131 n. 1.
[9] Even Shetiyah (Ramat Beit Shemesh, 2005), p. 74.
[10] Yud Gimmel Ikkarim (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 95.
[11] Ha-Emunah ve-Yud Gimmel Ikkareha (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 46.
[12] Kovetz Ma’amarim ve-Iggerot (Jerusalem, 2006), vol. 1, p. 57.



Review of Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture by Shaye J.D. Cohen

Review of Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture

 

by Shaye J.D. Cohen

Shaye J. D. Cohen is the Littauer Professor of Hebrew Literature and Philosophy in the Department of Near Eastern Languages and Civilizations of Harvard University. This is his first contribution to the Seforim blog.

Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture.


Outside the Bible: Ancient Jewish Writings Related to Scripture.
Edited by Louis H. Feldman, James L. Kugel, and Lawrence H. Schiffman. Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, and Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2013. xxviii+3361.

These three hefty volumes, comprising three thousand three hundred and sixty one pages, have been a long time coming. Planning began in 1994. We can only admire the editors’ persistence and the publisher’s patience. The volumes show us what the rabbis of antiquity did not want us to read. The Mishnah, the Talmud, and the Midrash jump back to the Bible directly, skipping over the intervening centuries. The rich and manifold literature of the late second temple period, whether in Greek, Hebrew or Aramaic, whether from the land of Israel or the diaspora, no matter the genre, and no matter the social setting – all these works were resolutely ignored by the rabbinic sages of Israel and
Babylonia. Aside from a few scattered citations of Ben Sira and a few references to the Greek version of the Torah (the Septuagint), the rabbinic literature of antiquity does not mention, refer to, or cite any the texts included in these volumes. The rabbis did not read these texts and, we may assume, did not want us to read them either.

Why not? Perhaps because some of these texts emanated from circles that were at odds with the progenitors of the rabbinic sages. Or perhaps because some of these texts were composed in Greek, and the rabbis’ pervasive disdain for Greek literature extended even to Greco-Jewish literature. Or perhaps because some of these texts say amazing, unexpected things. Two texts (Jubilees, the Temple Scroll) seem not to accept the canonicity of the Torah. Any number of texts tell stories about the mysterious giants of Genesis 6:1-4, a race brought into being through the miscegenation of (fallen) angels with mortal women (Book of Enoch, Genesis Apocryphon). Two texts tell stories about Moses’ military campaign in Ethiopia (Artapanus, Josephus), one text tells of the military campaign of Qenaz, father of Othniel (Book of Biblical Antiquities), others tell of the military campaign of the sons of Jacob against the sons of Esau
(Jubilees, Testament of the Twelve Patriarchs). Needless to say, Scripture knows nothing about any of these campaigns. One text attributes to Joseph the institution of Egyptian polytheism and theriolatry (Artapanus). Medieval rabbinic culture was more tolerant of such free invention than was ancient rabbinic culture.

The editors of these volumes are keenly aware of the relative neglect from which these texts have suffered across the millennia. The editors see their task as reclamation, to reclaim these texts for Jewish culture and, dare I say it, for Judaism. Most of these texts were preserved by Christians for Christians, and Christian scholars have studied these texts for much longer, and valued these texts much more highly, than have Jews. Witness the Jewish reception to Wilhelm Bousset’s classic The Religion of Judaism in the Late Hellenistic Period (published in German, first edition 1903). Bousset based his portrait of second temple Judaism on the Jewish texts of the period that had been preserved by Christians, in other words, on the texts presented in Outside the Bible. Bousset more or less ignored rabbinic texts. Jewish scholars were scandalized. Rabbinic texts were written after the second temple period, replied Bousset, and cannot claim to be anything other than the work of a lettered elite, whereas these texts are of “popular” origin. Jewish scholars retorted: these texts are not “Judaism,” because we Jews have abandoned them long since. Nowadays most modern Jews have a more capacious definition of Judaism than did Bousset’s opponents, and it is for them that these volumes are intended. Between the Bible and the Mishnah – the subtitle Ancient Jewish Writings means “pre-rabbinic Jewish writings” – is a rich and fascinating storehouse of Jewish literature.

The collection is called Outside the Bible, that is, outside the Hebrew Bible. The canon of the Hebrew Bible (or Tanak) is a relatively narrow one; all the books it contains were composed and preserved in Hebrew (or Aramaic, a cousin language to Hebrew), and none explicitly acknowledges that it was composed later than the Persian period (5th century BCE). Modern scholars believe that any number of biblical books were either composed after the Persian period (for example, Daniel), or contain sections composed after the Persian period (for example the Psalms), but the key point is that the Hebrew Bible itself does not acknowledge such a late date of composition. Certainly the rabbis of antiquity, and after them traditionalist Jews of our own time, had no doubt that all the biblical books were composed not later than the fifth century BCE. Greek-speaking Jews apparently had no such scruples. Their canon, which forms the basis of the Christian Old Testament, contains many works that do not hide the fact that they were composed after the Persian period (for example, the books of Maccabees) or in Greek (for example, the Greek translation of Ben Sira, or the second book of Maccabees). These books, which are to be found in the Christian Old Testament but which are absent from the Hebrew Bible, are called “deuterocanonical” by Catholics and “apocryphal” by Protestants. Outside the Bible includes them all for the simple reason that these books are outside the Hebrew Bible.

The collection of texts that most nearly approximates Outside the Bible is the two volume set edited by James Charlesworth, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (1985). The collections resemble each other but also differ from each other. The editors of Outside the Bible have wisely chosen not to perpetuate the title “Pseudepigrapha,” which is a perfectly fine description for literary works that bear a false attribution (from the Greek pseud+epigraph) but which is a misleading and useless catch-all heading for ancient Jewish literature. The Old
Testament Pseudepigrapha
is arranged by genre, more or less (Testaments, Apocalypses, Rewritten Bible, etc.), while Outside the Bible is arranged by relationship with Scripture. First comes the Greek translation of the Bible, then commentaries on the Bible, then paraphrases and retellings of the Bible (notably the works of Philo and Josephus), then testaments, prayers and psalms, wisdom writings, and philosophical treatises of Philo. By this point the biblical connection has become rather tenuous. The volumes conclude with stories set in biblical times, stories set in post-biblical times, and sectarian texts (from Qumran). Outside the Bible thus includes works omitted by Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (notably excerpts from the Septuagint, Philo, and Josephus, and various texts from Qumran), and omits works included by Old Testament Pseudepigrapha (works that are Byzantine in date and Christian in origin, or that bear scant relationship with the Bible, e.g. the Sibylline Oracles). For the most part the terminus ad quem for Outside the Bible is the destruction of the temple in 70 CE, but a few late-comers are allowed to join the party: the Fourth Book of Ezra and the Syriac Apocalypse of Baruch, two works lamenting the destruction of the temple, and Greek synagogal prayers, which admittedly are not directly related to Scripture but which are full of biblical idioms and in any case are of great interest.

As a rule the editors of Outside the Bible did not commission new translations; they were content to incorporate and revise translations that had already appeared in Old Testament Pseudepigrapha or elsewhere. For these texts the novelty of Outside the Bible is the annotation that it provides, which is far more detailed and far more sustained than what can be found in Old Testament Pseudepigrapha. For some texts, though, the translations are new; among them are the sermons On Jonah and and On Samson, falsely attributed to Philo, now translated into English for the first time, two unique specimens of Hellenistic Jewish preaching; Philo’s Questions and Answers on Genesis and Exodus, newly translated from the Armenian (the Greek original being mostly lost); the Testaments of the Twelve Patriarchs; the Genesis
Apocryphon
from Qumran; the Temple Scroll from Qumran. Aside from the new translations and the extensive introductions and annotations, there are no novelties in these volumes. No heretofore undiscovered texts. No long lost documents. No secret scrolls. (Contrast Old Testament Pseudepigrapha: More Noncanonical Scriptures, volume 1, edited by Richard Bauckham, James R. Davila and Alexander Panayotov [2013] which is full of newly-translated and long-neglected texts, mostly of Byzantine origin.)

The canonization of the Hebrew Bible was an enormous goad to Jewish creativity. Across genres, styles, and languages, the Jews of the second temple period reacted to, interacted with, interpreted and re-interpreted, the words of the Bible, especially the Torah, in an extraordinary variety of ways with an extraordinary variety of results. The words of the Bible, especially the Torah, seem to have consumed the Jews to such an extent that they produced little literature that did not somehow engage the Bible and its concerns. Outside the Bible is a good entry point for the study not just of ancient Bible interpretation but also of ancient Judaism as a whole.

Who will read Outside the Bible? From cover to cover, probably no one. As a work of reference, as an anthology of ancient Jewish Bible interpretation, no doubt scholars will consult it and be grateful for the breadth of its scope and the erudition of its annotations. But who else will read it, and, what is more important for the publisher, who will want to purchase it? I am not sure that there is an audience for this act of cultural reclamation. Traditionalist Jews, beholden to the rabbinic suspicion of all “external” literature, who purchase ArtScroll/Mesorah Publications by the carload, will probably not be interested in these books. Will secular Jews be interested? I hope so, but that seems unlikely. So who is left? Christians interested in Jewish bible interpretation and in the “Jewish background” to the New Testament, and liberal Jews whose intellectual horizons extend beyond the rabbinic corpora. Will these two groups be persuaded to part with two hundred dollars plus for these three weighty tomes? That remains to be seen.




What Was Bothering the Censor?

WHAT WAS BOTHERING THE CENSOR?

by Eli Genauer
The invention of the printing press in the 15th century was a great boon for Torah study. Manuscripts which had to be laboriously copied one by one could now be set to type and hundreds could be produced at one time. One of the earliest Jewish treasures to be set to print was the Talmud. Scattered volumes of it were printed in the late 15th century and early sixteenth century, but the first complete set was printed from 1519-1523 in Venice by Daniel Bomberg. He followed this with printing two more sets, and was joined by Marco Antonio Justinian who printed a complete set from 1546-1551.

The competition between Justinian and another gentile printer named Bragadini, led to one of them denouncing the other to the Pope for printing items which were against the Church. This led to the public burning of the Talmud throughout most of Italy starting in 1553.[1] The Talmud was listed in the Church’s first Index Librorum Prohibitorum  in 1559.

There still was a possibility to print the Talmud but only under the watchful eye of a censor who would excise all offending passages. The  consequences of having to deal with censored texts, both from the outside and from self censorship, is one of the tragic outcomes of our Galus.

The first attempt to print the Talmud under the Papal ban was in 1578-1581 in Basel by the printer Ambrosius Froben who was allowed to print the Talmud under the lead censorship of Father Marco Marino.

Regarding the censorship efforts, Marvin J. Heller notes this was the most censored edition ever printed.[2]  Stories about the founder of Christianity were deleted, and many references to anything remotely connected to Christianity were changed. When it came to Aggadic material, Raphael Nathan Nata Rabinowitz in מאמר על הדפסת התלמודwrites that  regarding material which was either a bit strange or against the Christian concepts of reward and punishment, the censor would print a short explanation about it on the page.[3]

I would like to focus on one piece of the printed Talmud which is Aggadic in nature, the comment that was made on it by one of the classic Jewish Meforshim, and the comment made on that comment by the censor. I am vexed by the following question, “what was bothering the censor?”

The piece in question is in מסכת אבות- פרק ו’-משנה י’


חמשה קנינים קנה לו הקדוש ברוך הוא בעולמו, ואלו הן, תורה קנין אחד, שמים וארץ קנין אחד, אברהם קנין אחד, ישראל קנין אחד, בית המקדש קנין אחד.
תורה מנין, דכתיב (משלי ח), יהוה קנני ראשית דרכו קדם מפעליו מאז.

There is a commentary on Avos in many of the early printed editions of Mishnayos and of the Talmud. This commentary is attributed to the Rambam in the Soncino Napoli edition of the Mishnayos, in the Bomberg editions, in the Basel edition, and in the 1721 Frankfurt edition amongst others. It turns out that the commentary on the sixth chapter of Avos was not written by the Rambam as noted by the Romm 1880 edition of the Talmud, which attributes it to Rashi. [4]                                                                                                       

Be that as it may, this Peirush as printed in the Mishnayos by Yehoshua Shlomo Soncino, Napoli 1492, states the following:

תורה קנין אחד מנין דכתיב השם קנני ראשית דרכו שבריאתה קדמה לעולם מפני שכשעלה במחשבה לפניו לבראות עולמו אמר יתקיים בשביל התורה 

The creation of the Torah preceded the creation of the world, because when Hashem imagined creating the world, He said that the world should exist because of the Torah

This is what it looks like there: ( from JNUL digitized books )


In the Bomberg Edition of 1521, it looks like this (from JNUL Digitized Books)


In the Basel edition of 1580, (from JNUL)

The censor seems to have a problem with the comment and put in a הג”ה on the side of the text which looks like this: (Also from JNUL)

הדבר הזה קשה מאד לשמוע, וצריך באור להבין מה זאת התורה אשר קדמה לעולם


 “This thing is very difficult to understand and needs an explanation what it means when it says that ‘the Torah preceded the world'”

Rabinowitz states that this הג”ה of the censor found its’ way into the Benveniste Amsterdam Shas of 1644-46 , (which I saw recently in the JTS Library) and from there, it was mistakenly included in many editions afterwards.[5]

I have an edition of the Talmud printed in Frankfurt in 1721, which is the model for almost all editions that followed. [6]

In the volume which contains Maseches Avodas Kochavim U’Mazalos, we find Maseches Avos at the very end.  Not only is this comment included in it, but it now made its’ way from being on the side of the page, to being right in the text of the Peirush (albeit in parentheses).

Here is what it looked like in 1721:

I saw the censor’s comment in the Sulzbach 1755 edition and the Amsterdam 1763 edition. It appears as late as the Czernowitz edition of 1843, 200 years after being mistakenly included in the Benveniste Amsterdam edition.

By the time we get to the Romm Vilna edition of 1880, thankfully the comment is gone.

The censor does not seem to have a problem with the idea that the world was created in the merit of the Torah, rather that the Torah preceded the creation of the world. Rabinowitz had stated that the censor commented on Aggadic material if it was either strange or against Christianity. The comment of the Peirush did not seem at all strange (especially when compared with other Aggadic statements) so I was curious to find out if there was anything in it that was against Christianity.

Whom to ask? I turned to a real expert, someone who wears a big black Yarmulkah, sports a Rabbinic beard, and learns Mishnayos every morning at 6:30 AM with our neighborhood hematologist/oncologist. His name is Dr. Martin Jaffee, a professor of comparative religion at the University of Washington in Seattle, and until recently, the co-editor of AJS Review. He is so good at explaining Christian theology, that one of his students once remarked to him “I wish my minister were able to explain out beliefs as well as you did”

Here were his comments:

What bothered the censor is the parallel of the primordial Torah and the Primordial Logos (Word)–Gospel of John 1:1–“In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with G-d, and the Logos was G-d.” Your censor was probably upset by the parallel. He probably wasn’t a classicist, though, or he’d have known that this Neo-Platonic idea was all over the Mediterranean and had been for several centuries. In fact, Chazal’s idea of the Torah that precedes Creation is an example of their own exploitation of Neo-Platonism in service of Torah. Surely you know the Medrash about HaKadosh Baruch Hu looking into the Torah for instructions for creating the world, “like an architect consults a plan?

That seemed simple enough. The Christian censor’s comment then made its’ way into many editions of the Talmud, to be perused by many, and discussed by some, without realizing its’ origin. I imagine a scholar in the mid 18th century who acquires a set of the Frankfurt Talmud and studies this expensive edition to his library from cover to come. He learns Maseches Avos which he finds in the back of the volume which contains מסכת עבודת כוכבים ומזלות and is happy to have the Peirush on Perek Vav which is ascribed to the Rambam. He is quite curious about a הג”ה he finds in parentheses within one of the Rambam’s comments. Who wrote this comment and what exactly was his problem? He should only know.

Notes:

[1] I have simplified this quite a bit to what most consider the immediate cause for the burning of the Talmud at that time. For a more complete discussion of this matter, I would suggest reading chapters XI and XII in Marvin J. Heller’s Printing the Talmud: A History of the Earliest Printed Editions of the Talmud (Brooklyn 1992 ).
[2] Id. at p. 255
[3] Maamar alHadpasat ha-Talmud with Additions, ed. A.M. Habermann (Jerusalem 2006)  p. 78.
On that same page Rabinowitz writes about the Basel edition:  “The Jews looked with broken hearts on what had been done to their Talmud which had been trampled upon by the censor” (my paraphrase).
[4]  In the Vilna Shas, this comment appears at the beginning of Perek Vav of Maseches Avos on Daf 15A. Maseches Avos can be found in the volume that contains Avodah Zarah. I have also seen that this commentary is attributed to the Beis Medrash of Rashi.
[5] Maamar alHadpasat ha-Talmud with Additions, p.78. at the end of footnote 10.
[6] Id. at p. 111