Response to Criticism, Part 3

Response to Criticism, Part 3

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here.

Let me continue with Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s review. [1] This post will complete my response to around a quarter of his review, so we still have a long way to go.

Grossman writes (p. 42)

According to Shapiro, “Maimonides would be surprised that . . . later generations of Jews . . . latched onto his earlier work;” and it “is certainly one of the great ironies of Jewish history that the Thirteen Principles became the standard by which orthodoxy was judged.” Finally, “the characteristic that gave them their afterlife . . . is precisely their outer form . . . Had Maimonides listed a different number of principles in the Mishneh Torah . . . these would have become the Principles of Judaism.” In other words, after postulating that Rambam innovated these obligatory beliefs, Shapiro concludes that it was the popular acceptance of these Principles that established halachic practice.

If you look at the quotations from my book that Grossman has cited, you can see ellipses. The problem here, and this would be unknown to the average reader who does not bother to see what I actually wrote, is that the complete sentences without the ellipses mean something very different than what Grossman wants the readers to think they say. Here is the complete first sentence that he cites (from p. 7 in my book): “Presumably, Maimonides would be surprised that in seeking to define the essentials of Judaism, later generations of Jews, both scholars and masses, had latched onto his earlier work rather than his more detailed formulation in the Mishneh Torah.” I think all readers will agree that the part of the sentence that Grossman quotes, with strategic ellipses, does not give the reader the true sense of the sentence. I can’t say whether this is a result of bad faith or careless writing.

Here is the complete second sentence that Grossman cites (from p. 15 in my book): “It is certainly one of the ironies of Jewish history that the Thirteen Principles became the standard by which orthodoxy was judged, for, as is well known, Maimonides himself was attacked for supposedly holding heretical views, at odds with his very own Principles.” Again, we see that by use of a strategic ellipsis, Grossman give the reader a false impression of what I wrote.

Here is the complete third selection that Grossman cites (from p. 14 in my book).

Returning to the Thirteen Principles, the characteristic that gave them their afterlife and caused them to become the formulation of the Jewish creed is precisely their outer form, that is, the fact that they were formulated as a catechism with all the Principles listed together. Had Maimonides listed a different number of Principles in the Mishneh Torah (e.g., twelve or fourteen), these would have become the principles of Judaism. But he did not, and thus the Thirteen Principles stuck.

In this case, the use of ellipses does not distort what I said.

Grossman states that I postulated that “Rambam innovated these obligatory beliefs.” We have already seen that this is complete nonsense. I never said that Maimonides invented the “obligatory beliefs,” as this would mean that before Maimonides there was no conception of traditional Jewish beliefs, which is a ridiculous notion.

In his final sentence, Grossman states that I concluded “that it was popular acceptance of these Principles that established halachic practice.” This is indeed my opinion, but I would also add that it obviously took time for the Principles to achieve widespread acceptance. Nothing I have said here is unusual or radical, and it is also opinion of many others who have written on the subject. Here, for example, is what R. Meir Orian writes in his book on the Rambam (published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook).[2]

ראינו כי בעצם ערר רבנו משה התנגדות בכל חיבור שכתב . . . גם קביעתם של שלשה עשר העיקרים של היהדות – שבמרוצת השנים נתקדשו בקדושת התורה והאומה – לא היתה לפי רוח גדולי הדור שבזמנו

There were other competing systems of dogma, but I state that none of them could compete with Maimonides’ formulation, both because of Maimonides’ supreme authority and also because popular piety prefers more dogmas to fewer. It is no accident that there are almost a hundred different poetic versions of the Principles, of which Yigdal is only the most famous. These are reflections of the popular attachment to the Principles, not to any rabbinic decision in favor of Maimonides. So if we conclude that the Principles establish halakhic practice, then yes, it was popular acceptance of these Principles that established the halakhic practice, much like popular acceptance and rejection of halakhic rulings throughout history has established halakhic practice.

Had the religious masses accepted an alternative formulation of Jewish dogma, then this would have become the standard. The rabbis can give rulings, but from talmudic times to the present it is the masses of religious Jews that determine if a halakhic ruling is accepted or not. Even with regard to the greatest poskim, you find that for some of their rulings the religious masses simply refused to accept them (perhaps because they found them too difficult and were already accustomed to do things in a different way, e.g., R. Moshe Feinstein and time clocks on Shabbat). I am not sure what Grossman’s problem is with the notion that popular acceptance can determine halakhic practice. Maybe he thinks that halakhah is only about the posek issuing a ruling. However, especially when speaking historically, we must also take into account that the religious masses (the “olam”) also have a crucial role to play in how halakhah develops.

This important notion is elaborated upon in the recent book by R. Ronen Neuwirth, The Narrow Halakhic Bridge, pp. 293ff. Here is one passage from R. Kook that R. Neuwirth quotes (from Eder he-Yekar, p. 39): “All of the mitzvot of the rabbis that we fulfill – their main foundation is the acceptance of ‘the entire nation’ which is the honor of the nation.”

Grossman, pp. 42-43, quotes the following sentence from my book (p. 17, mistakenly omitting a few words in his citation):

It seems that there is even halakhic significance to the Principles, as seen in the fact that R. Israel Meir Hakohen [Mishnah Berurah 126:2] records that one who denies the divinity of the Torah, reward and punishment, the future redemption, and the resurrection cannot serve as a prayer leader. Had Maimonides not included these Principles in his list, it is unlikely that denial of the last two, which are not necessarily of prime importance to a religious life, would disqualify one in this way.

Grossman writes:

Contrary to Shapiro’s hasty assumption, the Rambam is not the source for this Halacha. The source is the Talmud Yerushalmi, cited by the Tur [Orah Hayyim 126] as follows: “A prayer leader who skips two or three words does not have to go back to say them, except for one who does not mention ‘the Resurrection of the Dead,’ for perhaps he is a disbeliever [kofer] in the Resurrection of the Dead, and [the blessing] ‘Who rebuilds Jerusalem,’ for perhaps he does not believe in the Coming of the Mashiach.” Obviously, the ruling of the Mishnah Berurah is not an “invention” based on the Rambam.

Grossman’s translation is not exact as אין מחזירין אותו does not mean “does not have to go back”, and the translation also omits the words ומכניע זדים שמא מין הוא, but for our purposes this is not crucial.

The first thing to note is that I never said that the Mishnah Berurah’s source for his ruling is the Rambam’s Principles. What I said is that had the Rambam not included the Messianic era and Resurrection among his principles, denial of them would not have been enough to affect a Jew’s status (so that he couldn’t be a prayer leader, etc.). I will explain what I mean, as Grossman has once again completely misunderstood my point.

Let us take Resurrection, which is mentioned in the Mishnah as an obligatory belief. Nevertheless, the Rambam was suspected by both opponents and supporters as not really believing in it literally. In response to this suspicion, he wrote his famous Letter on Resurrection, which affirms the literalness of Resurrection and tells us that when he included it in his Principles he really meant it. Imagine if Maimonides, in his Letter on Resurrection, had not affirmed literal Resurrection, but instead defended the notion that it is to be understood metaphorically, as referring to the World to Come. Had that occurred, then the Rambam’s great authority would have ensured that belief in Resurrection would not be required.

My point is therefore simple: If the Rambam had declared that belief in Resurrection is not required, I do not believe that the Mishnah Berurah would have regarded this approach as heretical and thus invalidated a hazzan who held such a view, despite what other rishonim might have held. Similarly, had the Rambam not included the Messianic Era as a Principles of Faith, I do not believe that it would have been regarded as an obligatory belief, denial of which is heresy. It might have been a “recommended” belief, but not a generally accepted “obligatory” belief. In my opinion, this shows the great significance of the Rambam from both a theological and a halakhic perspective.

If you look at Jewish history, you will find that while many have asserted that certain beliefs are obligatory (e.g., gilgul, existence of demons, Divine Providence encompassing the animal kingdom, Daas Torah, R. Shimon Ben Yohai authored the Zohar, the Sages were infallible in matters of science), these beliefs have never become generally accepted to the extent that those who do not share them are regarded by the wider Orthodox world as outside the fold. Only Maimonides’s Principles were able to do such a thing. This explains what I mean when I say that had Maimonides not regarded the Messianic Era or Resurrection as obligatory beliefs, that “it is unlikely that denial” of them would have been enough to place the stamp of heresy on such a person, and thus to disqualify him from being a hazzan.

On p. 44 of his article, Grossman returns to the matter that I (and others) raised, that the Thirteen Principles are not mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. I also suggested that in his later works Maimonides was not attached to his earlier formulation of thirteen principles, as he presents a more detailed formulation of required beliefs in the Mishneh Torah.

In response to my point that one would have expected the Thirteen Principles to be listed in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah, Grossman writes (p. 44)

Here, too, Shapiro indicates that he is unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah. The entire work is an expansion of the 613 Mitzvos: The entire work is introduced by Rambam’s Sefer haMitzvos which lists all 613 Mitzvos, and each of the sections (Halachos) has a listing of the Mitzvos included therein. Consequently, there is no place to highlight the Thirteen Principles in Hilchos Yesodey haTorah, since there are explicit Mitzvos for only three of them—emunah, yichud and avodah zarah, which he in fact does list in the introduction to this section. He could not have listed all the rest since they are not Mitzvos.

I reject this paragraph. There is a good deal in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah that has nothing to do with “explicit Mitzvos.” For that matter, there is a good deal in the Mishneh Torah as a whole that is not related to “explicit Mitzvos.” In addition to what I mentioned in my last post, one can also add the last two chapters of Hilkhot Melakhim, which are about the messianic era and have nothing to do with mitzvot. The Rambam included these chapters because he felt that this material is important, and he did not limit himself in the Mishneh Torah to only matters that derive from ‘explicit Mitzvos”. Therefore, there is nothing about the “structure of the Mishneh Torah” that would have prevented him from listing the Thirteen Principles as a unit in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah or elsewhere. In fact, most of the Principles are already listed in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah, but just not together as a unit (which was my point), which shows that he had no problem listing them even though “they are not Mitzvos.”[3]

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.)[4]

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:[5]

. . .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-Torahin 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).

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. For example, R. Joseph Ibn Caspi writes:[6]

.הנה תמהתי על כבודו בספרי המכונה ספר הסוד, כי [אם] כן עשה הוא דעת תורתנו ויסוד הדת למה לא מנה זה בהלכות יסוד [!] התורה בתחלת מנותו היסודות

With regard to the Thirteen Principles themselves, in R. Jacob Yitzhaki’s popular Sephardic Mahzor Oholei Yaakov: Rosh ha-Shanah, p. 59b, he states:

.ובאמת גם הרמב”ם ז”ל לא זכר מהעיקרים הללו לא בספרו הגדול משנה תורה ולא בס’ המורה שחבר אחריו בזקנותו. ואם היה עודנו מחזיק בם היה לו להזכירם בס’ המדע והמורה, כי שם מקומם, ורק נזכרו בפי’ המשנה שחבר בבחרותו כידוע

R. Yitzhaki agrees with my point that it is significant that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are not mentioned in the Mishneh Torah(or in the Guide of the Perplexed; he is obviously aware that the individual principles appear in various places in the Mishneh Torah). His words, ואם היה עודנו מחזיק בם היה לו להזכירם, show that he, too, is not certain that the notion of Thirteen Principles was still something the Rambam held to when he wrote the Mishneh Torahand Guide of the Perplexed. Grossman can reject R. Yitzhaki’s point the same way he rejects what I wrote, but readers can see that what we have written is not something completely ignorant, as Grossman would have people believe.

On pp. 44-45, in response to my suggestion that in his later years the Rambam did not feel bound to the Thirteen Principles as the ultimate summation of Judaism, Grossman refers to a passage in the Rambam’s Letter on Resurrection. Here the Rambam mentions that in his commentary to Sanhedrin he expounded on fundamentals of Judaism, and he mentions that he did likewise in the Introduction to the Mishnah and the Mishneh Torah. I myself refer to this source in Limits, p. 6, as one of the few times the Rambam mentions the Principles subsequent to his the Commentary on the Mishnah. This does not change the fact that the Rambam does not refer to the Principles as a unit in the Mishneh Torah or the Guide, and the understanding of Judaism found in these latter works is not always the same as what we see in the Principles. I would assume that it is in the Rambam’s later, and indeed greater, works that we should look in order to identify his final statements on matters of Jewish belief.

The real problem is that again, Grossman simply does not understand what I am saying. He concludes this section of his criticisms by stating that, “Clearly the Rambam has not retracted his opinion that there are Principles, or roots – lacking belief in which, one is missing the fundamentals of Judaism.” Of course, I never said that in his later years the Rambam did not believe that there are Principles of Judaism. Even if we never had his Thirteen Principles, you can look at the Mishneh Torah and see that there are beliefs that if you deny them, you are missing the fundamentals of Judaism. My point about the Rambam not being tied to the Thirteen Principles has nothing to do with this. It thus makes no sense for Grossman, p. 46, to write that in the Guide the Rambam refers to the fundamentals of faith, and then to cite chapters from this work that require belief in God’s incorporeality, as if this has anything to do with what we are talking about. Let us not forget that it was the Rambam who chose thirteen principles.[7] He did not find this in the Torah or in the Talmud. When you examine the Mishneh Torah you see that he could just as easily have chosen fourteen principles, or even more (and later writers indeed added additional principles).

There is no need to belabor this any longer, but let me call attention to an error Grossman makes on pp. 46-47. He states that R. Joseph Albo refers to the Guide of the Perplexed “in explicating Rambam’s Principles.” He then cites Albo’s Sefer ha-Ikarim 1:3: “And why did he not include the dogma of creation, which everyone professing a divine law is obliged to believe, as Maimonides himself explains in the twenty-fifth chapter of the second part of the Guide of the Perplexed?” This is not an example of Albo using the Guide to explicate the Rambam’s Principles. In this chapter of Sefer ha-Ikarim, Albo asks why the Rambam does not include creation as one of the Thirteen Principles. He cites the Guide not to explicate the Principles but to show that the Rambam regarded creation as an essential doctrine, and therefore it should have appeared in the Principles. (Albo was unaware that later in life the Rambam added to the Fourth Principle the belief in creation ex nihilo.)

One point that Grossman is adamant about is that it is improper to suggest that the Rambam changed his mind when it comes to the Principles. That is because, Grossman states, the Rambam revised his Commentary on the Mishnah throughout his life, so if he did not change what he wrote in the Principles, it is “an indisputable indication” (p. 46) that it remained his opinion. The reader of Grossman’s essay will not realize that it is not a major point of my book to argue that the Rambam changed his mind about his formulations in the Principles. What I do suggest is that the Thirteen Principles as a unit is not his final statement of dogma, because he does not mention it in the Mishneh Torah or the Guide, and in those works you find other doctrines that are regarded as principles of faith which are not included in the Thirteen Principles. Furthermore, as we shall see in future posts, the Rambam has different emphases and even outright contradictions to the Thirteen Principles in his later works, so we are left with assuming that either he changed his mind or that his formulations in the Thirteen Principles were intended for a certain audience, but did not represent his true view, which would only later be revealed in the Guide – and perhaps even in the Mishneh Torah – to the spiritual and intellectual elites. I will deal with this in greater detail in a future installment of my response to Grossman. For now I just want to note that the approach that he regards as ignorant as well as apparently blasphemous, that the Rambam changed his views about certain matters in the Principles, is not unknown even among rabbinic figures.

In Limits, p. 148, I noted that R. Meir Don Plotzki claimed that while in the Twelfth Principle the Rambam requires that the Messiah be descended from Solomon, he does not mention this in the Mishneh Torah. For R. Plotzki, this shows that the Rambam retracted his earlier view (even though he never corrected what he wrote about this principle in the Commentary on the Mishnah).[8] This again illustrates the problem with so many of Grossman’s criticisms of me. He points to things I wrote that he thinks are absurd and ignorant, but what happens when I show that great rabbinic figures have said the same thing? Obviously, Grossman would not criticize them in the same way. Is this an example of the old “they could say it but you can’t”?

R. Eliyahu Meir Feivelson notes that in the Sefer ha-Mitzvot, Positive Commandment, no. 4, the Rambam includes as part of “fear of God,” fear of punishment. However, when he describes this mitzvah in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah2:1-2, there is no mention of fear of punishment, only what is called יראת הרוממות. R. Feivelson writes[9]:

ויש להעיר עוד, שאולי יותר נכון לומר בדעת הרמב”ם, שהוא חזר בו מדבריו בספר המצוות, ולכן בספר משנה תורה נקט את יראת הרוממות. ורגליים לדבר, שהרי בהקדמתו לפרק חלק מנה הרמב”ם את האמונה בשכר ועונש, וכאחד מי”ג עיקרי אמונה. ואילו בהלכות תשובה (פ”ג הל, ו’-ח’) מנה את כל עיקרי האמונה פעם נוספת (ותחת זה מנה שם את האמונה בתורה שבכתב ושבע”פ לשני עיקרים), ולא הזכיר שם את האמונה בשכר ועונש, ושמא זה מוכיח על שינוי דעתו בענין זה

R. Feivelson mentions that in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Teshuvah3:6-8, when the Rambam lists the different types of heretical beliefs, there is nothing about Reward and Punishment. He therefore suggests that the Rambam changed his mind and no longer regarded this as a Principle.

If Grossman would read R. Feivelson like he reads me, he would protest that it is outrageous to suggest that the Rambam stopped believing in, or requiring belief in, Reward and Punishment. But this would be a mistake. R. Feivelson knows full well that Reward and Punishment is an important Jewish belief. He also knows that Hilkhot Teshuvah, chapter 8, is all about Reward and Punishment. All he is suggesting is that the Rambam ceased to regard this as one of the Principles of Judaism, denial of which is heresy, and which everyone must also positively affirm to be regarded as part of the Jewish community. Or perhaps he only means to say that the Rambam removed Reward and Punishment from the Principles so people would not focus on this as a motivation to observe of the Torah. If R. Feivelson is correct, then Reward and Punishment is no different than other true beliefs which the Rambam didn’t see fit to include in the Thirteen Principles.[10]

R. Feivelson’s basic idea, that the Rambam changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment as one of the Principles, was actually earlier suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm in his classic commentary Mirkevet ha-Mishneh, Hilkhot Teshuvah3:8:

(. . .וזה מכוון נגד י”ג עיקרים שבפירוש המשנה אלא שבחדא יש חזרה, ושם מונה שכר ועונש, וכאן בחיבורו השמיטו (לפי דמצוה לעבוד שלא ע”מ לקבל פרס מאהבה

Let me turn to one other place where it is possible that the Rambam changed his mind in a matter of dogma. There are a number of discussions of the Rambam’s view of the Messiah, and it is typically stated that he believes that the Messiah will be a prophet. Since R. Alter Hilewitz was recently mentioned in the Seforim Blog here, let me cite him.[11]

שהמלך המשיח בעצמו יהיה נביא, ולא סתם נביא, אלא נביא יותר גדול מכל הנביאים פרט למשה

That the Messiah will be a prophet is often stated as part of the dogma of belief in the Messiah, yet there is nothing in the Twelfth Principle about the Messiah being a prophet. Why then do so many assume that this is part of the Rambam’s Principle? I think the answer is because in the Mishneh TorahHilkhot Teshuvah 9:2, the Rambam states that the Messiah will be a great prophet, close to the level of Moses. He also mentions this in his Letter to Yemen.[12]

As mentioned, there is nothing in the Twelfth Principle about the Messiah being a prophet. Does this mean that the Rambam changed his mind? I don’t think we can say for sure. Yet it is noteworthy that in the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Melakhim, ch. 11, when the Rambam speaks about the Messiah, he also does not mention anything about the Messiah being a prophet. In fact, in Hilkhot Melakhim 11:3 he tells us that R. Akiva thought that Bar Kokhba was the Messiah. Since Bar Kokhba was not a prophet, this is a proof that the Messiah does not need to be a prophet. Another relevant point is that in Hilkhot Melakhim 12:3 the Rambam speaks of the Messiah as having ruah ha-kodesh, which is a lower level than prophecy. Thus, it appears clear that according to Hilkhot Melakhim the Messiah will not be a prophet, or at least does not need to be a prophet.[13]

How to explain the fact that in Hilkhot Teshuvah the Rambam says that the Messiah will be a great prophet, while in Hilkhot Melakhim he does not mention this at all, and he refers to Bar Kokhba, thus showing that the Messiah does not need to be a prophet? R. Joseph Kafih states that the Rambam changed his mind on this matter. When writing his Letter to Yemen and Hilkhot Teshuvah the Rambam thought that the Messiah needed to be a prophet, however, his later position is reflected in Hilkhot Melakhim.[14] R. Kafih makes this claim even though there is no evidence that the Rambam ever altered what he wrote in Hilkhot Teshuvah. My point in mentioning this is not to claim that R. Kafih is correct in his assumption, only to show, in opposition to Grossman, that great commentators have indeed been prepared to state that the Rambam changed his mind, even if we have no evidence that he later corrected his earlier works.[15]

Regarding prophecy, R. Shlomo Aviner cites R. Kook that Adam was a greater prophet than Moses. I found this formulation noteworthy, as it contradicts Maimonides’ principle that Moses was the greatest prophet. In response to my question, R. Aviner replied to me that Adam is not to be included in regular history, and was thus not the among the prophets Maimonides was referring to.[16]

אדם הראשון הוא מחוץ לחשבון ההסטורי הרגיל ולפניו, ושורש כל בני האדם

R. Aviner cited as his source Orot ha-Kodesh, vol. 1, p. 280, which refers toזיהרא עילאה דאדה”ר. In fact, I found a more apt source in Shemonah Kevatzim3:66, where R. Kook puts the matter very clearly:

זיהרא עילאה דאדם הראשון היא כוללת מדה עליונה זו העולה עד למעלה מהאספקלריא המאירה של נבואת משה רבנו

The concept of Adam’s זיהרא עילאה is found throughout kabbalistic literature (which also states that Enoch would later receive this זיהרא עליאה). I had never understood it as also including prophecy, as opposed to simply greatness, but after investigating the matter I do not think that R. Kook is saying anything out of the ordinary by excluding Adam from the Rambam’s Principle. I think that this is also the sense you get from R. Hayyim of Volozhin when he discusses Adam.[17] In Nefesh ha-Hayyim 1:20, he also stresses the greatness of the Messiah, and he cites a rabbinic text that the Messiah will surpass Abraham, Moses, and Adam.[18] R. Hayyim adds that he will only surpass Adam after the Sin, but not before.

Regarding Adam before the Sin, R. Solomon Elyashiv writes:[19]

השגת אדה”ר קודם החטא שהשיג אז את כל האצילות הנה היה במדרגת האצילות של אז שהיה גבוה ונעלה מאד . . . כי מציאת אדה”ר שקודם הטא היה למעלה לגמרי מכל חק סוג אנושי אשר מאחר החטא ולהלאה

R. Isaiah Horowitz discusses Adam from a kabbalistic perspective on a few occasions. In Shenei Luhot ha-Berit[20], sectionToldot Adam: Beit Yisrael (p. 9a in the first printing, Amsterdam 1749; no. 104 in the newer printings), he writes:

והנה אדם עולה במספר קטן ט’ כי אדם לא בא בסוד יחידה מצד כתר המעלה העליונה עשירית, וזהו “אדם אחד מאלף לא מצאתי” א”ל [אל תקרי] אֶלֶף בסגול אלא אַלף שהיה חסר

This is exactly how the text appears in the first printing including the vowels. R. Horowitz cites Ecclesiastes 7:28, however the verse actually states: אדם אחד מאלף מצאתי. Only later in the verse does it say: ואשה מכל אלה לא מצאתי. It seems clear that this is simply a mistake and that R. Horowitz was citing from memory.[21] We find the same verse misquoted later in the Shelah, where the derash seems to be clearly based on the mistake:[22]

חותמו של הקב”ה אמת רומז על אה”יה אשר אהיה כי אהיה פעמי’ אה”יה עולה כמנין אמת. אדם הוא מעשר אמת כי ד”ם מעשר מ”ת ומהאלף לא שייך מעשר וזה רמז אדם אחד מאלף לא מצאתי כלומר אחד מאלף לא נמצא מעשר

This is all quite strange as using Otzar ha-Chochma I found two other places in the Shelah where the verse is cited correctly.[23]

Regarding Moses’ prophetic level, in Limits, p. 89, I cited authorities who understand Midrash Tanhuma’s statement that the Messiah will be “more exalted than Moses” to mean that he would be a greater prophet than Moses. Subsequent to the book’s publication, I found that the Lubavitcher Rebbe also leaves this as a possibility,[24] for in his Sefer Sihot: 5751, vol. 2, p. 789, he writes:

ובתנחומא (ס”פ תולדות) משמע שהוא נביא גדול ממשה – ראה לקו”ש ח”ו עמ’ 254 – ועצ”ע

Here is one additional point which is I think of interest. Although Judah David Eisenstein was not a religious authority, he was an Orthodox Jew and his works became quite popular in Orthodox homes.[25] It is noteworthy, therefore, that in his Otzar Dinim u-Minhagim, p. 325, he writes as follows, completely rejecting the Rambam’s system of dogma:

ואיך יעלה על הדעת לומר כי היהודי שאינו מאמין בלבו באיזה מן הי”ג עקרים חוץ מאמונת ה’ לבדו כי הוא יוצא מכלל ישראל. בפרט כי דת ישראל לא נוסדה על מחשבות ורעיונות רק על המעשה, מצות עשה ומצות לא תעשה, והיהודי המקיים כל המצוות הוא בודאי יהודי כשר אע”פ שאינו מאמין בלבו ברוב העקרים שמנה הרמב”ם

He then suggests that the Rambam retracted his understanding of ikkarim.

ונראה כי גם הרמב”ם חזר מעקריו אלה שכתב בערבית לפירוש המשניות, כי בספרו היד החזקה שכתב בעברית להלכה למשה [למעשה] הורה בגר שבא להתגייר, מודיעין אותו עקרי הדת שהוא ייחוד השם ואיסור ע”ז, ומאריכין בדבר הזה, ומודיעין אותו מקצת מצות קלות ומקצת מצות חמורות ואין מאריכין בדבר זה

Notice how Eisenstein requires belief in God, without which one is not part of Israel. But this takes us back to the question of what actually is belief in God. For the Rambam, someone who believes in a corporeal God is not really believing in God at all, and is thus a heretic, while Rabad disagrees. In Limits and in subsequent writings I have cited a number of authorities who agree with Rabad, which shows that the Rambam’s’ approach in this matter was not universally accepted. While it is true that Rabad and the others I cite believe that God is incorporeal, they do not accept that one who errs in this matter is to be regarded as a heretic, which is a major break with the Rambam as it means that denial of one of the Principles does not equal heresy.[26]

Here is another source that we can add to the list. The Hasidic master R. Meir Horowitz of Zhikov states that one who has a defect in his belief in God – which I assume can also include believing in God’s corporeality – but is part of a Hasidic community and accepts a rebbe, is not to be regarded as wicked. This is because by being devoted to the rebbe he will eventually be brought to a proper belief in God. What he is saying, if I am interpreting him correctly, is that you can have members of the Orthodox community whose beliefs might be incorrect, even heretical, but they should not be regarded as wicked because their very belonging to the community and acceptance of its rabbinic leadership is itself significant. I don’t know how many would agree with R. Meir, but what he says is quite fascinating.[27]

וכמו כן יש בנמצא בני אדם אשר יש להם חסרון באמונת הבורא כביכול, ועם כל זה יש להם אמונת צדיקים, ומקבלים עול הצדיק על עצמם . . . וגם אנשים כאלו אינם בכלל רשעים, יען כי על ידי אמונת צדיקים בודאי יבוא אחר כך לאמונת הבורא, כי על ידי התקשרות לצדיק במשך הזמן יזכה גם לאמונה גמורה. וכמו שפירשו בספרים הלואי אותי עזבו ואת תורתי שמרו היינו לשמור מה שהתורה מרבה בתיבת את ד’ א-להיך לרבות תלמידי חכמים

Finally, let me call attention to another unconventional view of R. Michael Abraham. R. Abraham states that since it impossible to force people to believe, the Thirteen Principles of Faith of the Rambam must be understood as only a suggestion which people are free to reject, not an obligation, as only behavior can be legislated, but not thought.[28]

באופן מהותי אי אפשר לצוות על אנשים להאמין דווקא בדבר מסוים. אתה יכול לצוות על אנשים שיתנהגו באופן מסוים, אבל אי אפשר להכתיב להם מה לחשוב, וגם איך תדע שהם חושבים אחרת מכפי שצוו. אז גם 13 עיקרי האמונה של הרמב”ם הם לא הלכה, אלא הצעה של הרמב”ם, ובהחלט אפשר גם לחשוב אחרת.

* * * * * * * *

[1] Regarding Grossman’s review, it is apt to cite the words of R. Yissachar Tamar, Alei Tamar, Shabbat, p. 6 (referred to by R. Neriah Guttel, Or Yekarot [Elkana, 2016], p. 290):

ומכאן אזהרה חמורה למבקרי ספרים שיעיינו הדק היטב עד שחורצים משפטם על ערך הספר וחשיבותו

In a future post I hope to also discuss another critique of my book, that of Seth Kadish. While I have argued that the Thirteen Principles reflect a conservative approach sometimes at odds with Maimonides’ other works, Kadish, in his very interesting and significant article, offers an alternative, I would even say revisionist, perspective. Here is some of what appears in the summary at the beginning of the article.

Such an attitude assumes that Maimonides’ famous list of the “thirteen foundations of the Torah” reflects a conservative stance (regardless of his wider agenda). This paper argues, to the contrary, that his dogma is best read in context as a natural reflection of radical formulations found in his pre-Guide rabbinic writings. It further argues that the great Iberian critics of Maimonidean dogma understood it in exactly this way and rejected it as such, offering meaningful alternatives in its place. They designed their alternative systems to reflect their views about the nature and substance of the Torah, not just to address the semantics of dogma.

Seth (Avi) Kadish, “Jewish Dogma after Maimonides: Semantics or Substance,” Hebrew Union College Annual 85 (2015), pp. 195-263.
[2] Ha-Moreh le-Dorot (Jerusalem, 1956), p. 92 (emphasis added).
[3] See R. Isaac Abarbanel, Rosh Amanah, ch. 19; Menachem Kellner, Dogma in Medieval Jewish Thought (Oxford, 1986) p. 228 n. 60; R. Dovid Yitzhaki’s essay in R. Jacob Emden, Luah Eresh (Toronto, 2001), p. 466. R. Yehezkel Sarne, Beit Yehezkel: Hiddushim u-Veurim be-Inyanim Shonim (Jerusalem, 1995), p. 242, has an interesting perspective:

.יסודי התורה אינו ענין לעיקרי התורה או עיקרי האמונה שהרי לא כלל הרמב”ם כאן כל העיקרים שאם אינו מאמין בהם נעשה כופר על ידן. אלא יסודי התורה היינו שהתורה עומדת עליהם ומי שאין לו היסודות גם תורה אין לו

Earlier in this note, I refer to R. Emden’s work לוח ארש. This is sometimes written as Luah Eres, yet this is a mistake. The second word is Eresh, as in the word ארשת (see Ps. 21:3) which has the connotation of “speech”. This is explained by R. Dovid Yitzhaki in his edition of Luah Eresh (referred to above), p. 3 n. 1 (second pagination).

In Shaharit of Yom Kippur, we recite the piyyut אדר יקר, the first line of which reads: אחוה בְּאֶרֶשׁ מלולי.

R. Aaron Samuel Katz’s commentary on Midrash Rabbah has the title Kore me-Rosh(Berdichev, 1811). It is divided into two sections, one of which is called ארש רבה. This is obviously a play on ארץ רבה (Ps. 110:6), and ארש also contains letters from the names אהרן שמואל.

Sephardic melitzah often uses the word ארש, such as in the expression ותשקוט הארש (sometimes written as האר’ש). Its meaning is that all speech or utterance should cease, that is, there is no need for any more discussion or argument about the issue. Another melitzah is באתי אל הארש (a play on Deut. 26:3), which means “this is what I have to say”.

There is also a melitzah ארש קדם (a play on Gen. 25:6) which means “words of introduction”.

Here is the beginning of R. David Pipano’s Avnei ha-Efod, vol. 1 (Sofia, 1913).

On pp. 24a and 171a R. Pipano uses another melitzah that I love, and which you can occasionally find in other Sephardic works: ובחפשון יצאתי (a play on Deut. 16:3). This means that he searched in rabbinic literature.

The title of R. Emden’s book, לוח ארש, is a play on לוח ארז that appears in Song of Songs 8:9. In the Bible, ארז is vocalized אׇרֶז as it comes at the end of a sentence. Does that mean that seforim with the title לוח ארז should also be vocalized Arez, and לוח ארש should be Aresh? The answer is no, because when we cite the title we are not quoting a biblical verse. Similarly, with R. Isser Zalman Meltzer’s book אבן האזל, just because in I Sam. 20:19 we read האבן הַאׇזֶל does not mean that when citing the name of the book, where it is not the end of a sentence, that we should write Even ha-Azel. Rather, the title is Even ha-Ezel. (The information in this paragraph has been confirmed with R. Dovid Yitzchaki.)
[4] Regarding R. Rosenthal, I think it is noteworthy that he held that at least in certain cases, such as with women who are unable to get married, it is permissible for single women to be artificially inseminated, and he ruled this way in practice. See R. Yehudah Berakhah, Birkat Yehudah, vol. 7, p. 267. R. Aharon Lichtenstein also held this position. See R. Shmuel David, “Teshuvot Ba’al Peh shel ha-Rav Aharon Lichtenstein,” Tzohar 40 (2016), p. 32:

?שאלהרווקה מבוגרת, כבת 41, מבקשת היתר לקבל תרומת זרע מגוי כדי לזכות להיות אם, האם ניתן להתיר לה

תשובה: אנחנו איננו ששים למצב שילד יגדל בלא אב, אך אי אפשר לראות את דמעתה ולחשות, ולכן כיוון שאין כאן איסור, הרי שמותר לה לקבל תרומת זרע מגוי, ורופא יזריק אותו, כמו שעושים לזוג נשוי

I believe that this is now the accepted position in the Modern Orthodox world, for the simple reason that strictly speaking there is no halakhic prohibition. In the haredi world, rabbis often forbid things for communal reasons, even though there is no real halakhic prohibition. But these types of rulings do not carry as much weight in the Modern Orthodox community.

It is also of note that before the creation of the State of Israel, R. Rosenthal went on the Temple Mount, as there was a tradition where it is permissible to go. However, he agreed that in contemporary times this should not be allowed. See the interview with his student, R. Shlomo Amar, here.
[5] Ha-Emunah ve-Yud Gimmel Ikareha (Jerusalem, 2005), pp. 84, 103-104.
[6]Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113. See also ibid., p. 101:

למה לא מנה זה הדעת בהלכות יסודי התורה עם הייחוס בא-ל

[7] See R. Shimshon Dovid Pincus, Nefesh Shimsohn: Be-Inyanei Emunah (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 99:

הרמב”ם היה הראשון שמנה את י”ג העיקרים . . . מה הרמב”ם חיפש כשהוא יסד את אותם “עיקרים”, ובכלל מה הם “עיקרים”? . . . הרמב”ם פסק את י”ג העיקרים להלכה, וכנראה שקבלנו את שיטתו

[8] Hemdat Yisrael (Petrokov, 1927), vol. 1, p. 14a (final numbering; in Limits I referred to this as p. 14b, as it is found on the second column). Interestingly, on the very next page, p. 14b, R. Plotzki writes:

בשיעור שלמדתי בישיבת ר’ יצחק אלחנן ז”ל בפה ניויארק יום ב’ ט”ז תמוז באספת כל גדולי מורי הישיבה והרבה מגדולי הרבנים בנויארק

This shiur at Yeshivat R. Yitzchak Elchonon took place in 1926, during a fundraising visit to the United States.
[9] Va-Yavinu be-Mikra: Va-Yikra, p. 175 (emphasis added).
[10] Regarding R. Feivelson, see the recent news report here about how two young men from the extremist Peleg group took out a knife and threatened R. Feivelson that he stop giving shiurim or else suffer the consequences. In a future post, I hope to discuss why there has been strong opposition in some quarters to R. Feivelson’s approach.
[11] “Yemot ha-Mashiah be-Mishnato shel ha-Rambam,” Sinai 41 (1957), p. 17.
[12] Iggerot ha-Rambam, ed. Shilat, vol. 1, p. 106 (Arabic), pp. 154-155 (Hebrew). This is in line with the Rambam’s Seventh Principle which states that other prophets cannot reach Moses’ level of prophecy. In Limits, ch. 6, I discuss those who disagreed with this principle. I subsequently found what seems to be another example of disagreement with the Rambam in this matter. In speaking of the prophets in the Messianic era, R. David Kimhi, commentary to Joel 3:1, writes:

וכן יהיו בהם [הנביאים] מעלות זה למעלה מזה כמו שהיו בנביאים שעברו עד שאולי יקים בהם כמשה רבינו עה

In his final words he offers the possibility that future prophets will be as great as Moses.
[13] R. Hananel Sari writes as follows with reference to Maimonides’ description of the Messiah in Hilkhot Melakhim:

כאן המלך המשיח נמדד רק במידת הצלחתו להקים מחדש את הממלכה לפי חוקי התורה. כלומר, מבחן התוצאה בעניין זה בלבד, ואינו צריך להיות נביא, ובוודאי שאינו צריך להיות נביא גדול!

“Tekufatenu vi-Yemot ha-Mashiah be-Mishnat ha-Rav Kafih,” Masorah le-Yosef 7 (2012), p. 97.
[14] Commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah, p. 650 n. 21. See also R. Kafih’s note to his edition of Iggerot ha-Rambam, p. 50 n. 26.
[15] Regarding Maimonides not correcting the Mishneh Torah to bring all of the halakhot in line, see my Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters, pp. 6, 68 n. 275.
[16] See my Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan, no. 120. Copies of this work are available here.
[17] Nefesh ha-Hayyim 2:17, 4:28.
[18] The rabbinic text R. Hayyim refers to is a Midrash, but he was apparently citing from memory, as the Midrash does not mention anything about Adam but instead mentions Abraham, Moses, and the angels. This Midrash is usually quoted from Midrash Tanhuma, ed. Buber, vol. 1, p. 70a, but this edition was not yet published in R. Hayyim’s lifetime, so he would have known the Midrash from Yalkut Shimoni, Zechariah, no. 571.
[19] Leshem Shevo ve-Ahlamah: Sefer ha-Deah (Petrokov, 1912), vol. 1, p. 85b. Following this passage, on the same page, R. Elyashiv says something noteworthy (and difficult to accept). He cites the following from Shemot Rabbah 41:6:

Another explanation of And He gave unto Moses (Ex. 31:18). R. Abbahu said: All the forty days that Moses was on high, he kept on forgetting the Torah he learned. He then said: “Lord of the Universe, I have spent forty days, yet I know nothing,” What did God do? At the end of the forty days, He gave him the Torah as a gift, for it says, And He gave unto Moses. Could then Moses have learned the whole Torah? Of the Torah it says: The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea (Job 9:9): could then Moses have learned it all in forty days? No, but it was the principles (kelalim) thereof which God taught Moses.

R. Elyashiv believes that the entire text just cited was stated by R. Abbahu, but it appears to me that the words beginning “Could then Moses have learned” were not said by R. Abbahu. Be that as it may, R. Elyashiv has a difficulty with the midrashic statement, which he attributes to R. Abbahu, that Moses was only taught the principles of the Torah, as this contradicts other aggadic statements that Moses was taught all the details as well. He therefore concludes that R. Abbahu did not really believe what he said, but his statement was only directed towards the heretics, whom he would sometimes dispute (see Avodah Zarah4a).

I find this quite difficult, since if his statement was directed towards the heretics, why does it appear in the Midrash without any such indication. This is quite apart from what many will regard as a more fundamental difficulty, namely, the assertion that a sage’s words in a classic rabbinic text are to be understood as a false statement designed to merely “shut up” the heretics. Here is what R. Elyashiv writes:

אך העיקר נראה לי כי ר’ אבהו לא אמר זה אלא כנגד המינין כי הוא היה רגיל להתווכח עם המינין. וכמ”ש בעבו”ז דף ד’ ע”א. וכדי שלא ליתן פתחון פה למינים להעיז נגד קבלת חז”ל אמר כמה דברים גם מה שהוא נגד דעתו, ע”ד שאמרו חולין כ”ז ב’ לאויבי דחיתי בקש. וע”ד ששינוי [!] הע”ב זקנים כמה דברים בתורה בהעתקתם לתלמי המלך כמ”ש במגילה ט’ ע”א . . . וכן הוא בענינינו כי מה שאמר ר’ אבהו בשמו”ר פ’ מ”א סי’ ו’ הנז’ שלא למדה משה רק כללים לא אמר זה אלא כנגד המינים וכדי לסכור את פיהם אבל הוא עצמו ודאי סובר ככל המאמרים הנז’ שלמד הקב”ה למשה כל דקדוקי תורה ודקדוקי סופרים

In Changing the Immutable, ch. 8, I discuss some who make the same claim as R. Elyashiv regarding other texts. Recently, I found that R. Judah Leib Landesberg also makes this point. In his Hikrei Lev (Satmar, 1905), vol. 1, p. 57, he discusses R. Judah’s statement in Sanhedrin 92b that Ezekiel’s vision of the Dry Bones coming to life was not something that happened in reality, but was only a parable (mashal). R. Landesberg cannot accept that R. Judah really meant this. He assumes that the point of his statement was polemical, and directed against the early Christians who spoke about the resurrection of Jesus and were strengthened in their false belief by the story of the resurrection of the Dry Bones.

מפני הוראת שעה ופריצת הדור החדש אשר על יסוד זה חפץ לבנות בנין שקר וכזב, מותר לומר שכל התחיה בימי יחזקאל היה “רק משל”, למען לא תתגבר ותתחזק האמונה הבדויה, שחנוך והתלוי קמו חיים ועלו השמים

On p. 66, he adopts the same approach regarding R. Hillel’s statement in Sanhedrin 99a: “There shall be no Messiah for Israel, because they have already enjoyed him in the days of Hezekiah.” As R. Landesberg sees it, R. Hillel did not believe what he said, but his statement was directed against those Jews who were being influenced by the followers of Jesus who claimed that the Messiah had arrived. R. Hillel was telling these people that Jesus could not be the Messiah, as there will be no Messiah since the prophecies were already fulfilled in the days of Hezekiah. According to R. Landesberg, R. Hillel’s false statement was justified as a “hora’at sha’ah”, an emergency measure to save Jewish souls from going astray. He also identifies R. Hillel with the Nasi Hillel II, and suggests that the Roman government required him to make the statement that there would be no Messiah.

ולא לבד העכו”ם גם רבים מהיהודים מתנצרים וטענותם והתנצלותם הי’ “כי משיח כבר בא” ע”כ היה הנשיא הילל מוכרח במעשה מטעם הממשלה, ומפני “הוראת שעה” לפרסם בישראל שלא יאמינו ברע ולא יבטחו בו ובשלוחיו, וחלילה להאמין כי הוא המשיח המקוה לישראל ע”כ גזר ואמר “אין משיח לישראל”! ונבואת ישעי’ כבר נתמלאה בימי חזקיה

[20] See R. Herschel Schachter, Divrei ha-Rav, p. 184, in the name of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik, that the practice developed of calling this work the Shelah ha-Kadosh rather than its actual title, Shenei Luhot ha-Berit, because people thought that Shenei Luhot ha-Berit as a title was a bit “over the top”.
[21] See Eliezer Zweifel in Ha-Karmel, March 13, 1866, p. 249.
[22] P. 178b in the first printing. In more recent printings see section Masekhet Pesahim, no. 524.
[23] First printing, p. 348b, in more recent printings see section Bamidbar, no. 27; first printing, p. 409b, in more recent printings see section Torah she-Be’al Peh, no. 384.
[24] See the discussion of the Rebbe’s words by Aharon Meir Felder in Tamim be-Hukekha (Brooklyn, 2008), pp. 26ff.
[25] Regarding Eisenstein, see Robert L. Samuels, “The Life and Work of Judah David Eisenstein as Reflected Primarily in His Memoirs” (unpublished masters dissertation, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, 1960), available here.

R. Binyamin Lau, Mi-Maran ad Maran (Tel Aviv, 2005), pp. 137ff., discusses R. Ovadiah Yosef’s attitude towards Eisenstein’s Hebrew encyclopedia, Otzar Yisrael. He first notes that in a responsum about the permissibility of using the secular calendar, R. Ovadiah cites Otzar Yisraelas a source that the secular year is not to be traced to Jesus’ birth, since he was actually born before the beginning of the Common Era. See Yabia Omer, vol. 3, Yoreh Deah, no. 9. R. Lau notes that R. Ovadiah is not consistent in how he relates to this encyclopedia. In R. Ovadiah’s responsum dealing with the halakhic status of the Ethiopian Jews, he refers to R. Eliezer Waldenberg’s reliance on Otzar Yisrael to demonstrate that they are not descended from Jews, and harshly attacks R. Waldenberg for relying on this work “which contains some matters of heresy.” Yabia Omer, vol. 8, Even ha-Ezer, no. 11:3.

R. Lau is content to note the inconsistency without probing further if perhaps this can be explained as R. Ovadiah delegitimizingOtzar Yisraelbecause it stood in opposition to his halakhic conclusion that the Ethiopians are Jewish. It appears likely that the delegitimization was ad hoc polemical rather than substantive, and thus able to be used when R. Ovadiah felt warranted. For another negative comment about Otzar Yisrael, see Yalkut Yosef, Orah Hayyim 131, p. 415.

In 1993, R. Hayyim Kanievsky’s notes to Eisenstein’s Otzar Midrashim were published. I received a copy of the pamphlet from David Farkas, who informs me that it was included with the recent reprint of Otzar Midrashim, obviously in order to make the book more “kosher”. It is interesting to examine what R. Kanievsky states should be deleted from Otzar Midrashim, as it is not merely references to academic scholars but also phrases that most will see as quite innocuous. Even Eisenstein’s comment that some scholars regard Eldad ha-Dani as a charlatan is to be deleted (R. Kanievsky’s note to p. 19), perhaps because this would reflect poorly on the rabbis who were taken in by him. (Shimon Steinmetz suggests that the reason is actually the reverse, that including this information would reflect poorly on those who were skeptical of Eldad.)

R. Kanievsky also says to delete any references to non-Jewish influence on these so-called Midrashim. To give one example, Eisenstein, p. 251, writes as follows about the medieval Midrash known as Sefer ha-Yashar:

.כנראה נתחבר ספר הישר במאה התשיעית או העשירית בזמן הגאונים. המקורים שמהם שאב המחבר הם מדרשות חז”ל ספר יוסיפון, והגדות הערביים

R. Kanievsky says to delete the words והגדות הערביים. I don’t understand why R. Kanievsky feels this way. I could just as easily imagine a great Torah scholar going through Eisenstein’s book and showing the problems with many of these Midrashim, precisely because of the questionable material in them, which would explain why they were never “accepted”. Even with regard to Sefer Zerubavel (Otzar Midrashim, pp. 158ff.), which is a seventh-century apocalypse that has no religious authority in traditional Judaism and is full of strange passages, R. Kanievsky objects to Eisenstein’s historical comments. Again, I don’t see why R. Kanievsky sees this as a religious imperative when dealing with such a work as Sefer Zerubavel, and am frankly surprised that he did not recommend deleting this entire “Midrash,” as he did with other “Midrashim” included by Eisenstein that he did not regard as authentic (see his notes to pp. 371, 372, and see also his notes to pp. 35, 400, where he expresses doubt that these “Midrashim” are from the Sages). Regarding Sefer Zerubavel, see David Berger, Cultures in Collision and Conversation(Boston, 2011), pp. 268ff.

Also of interest is the following passage from Otzar Midrashim, p. 583, about Midrash Tanhuma. I have underlined the word that R. Kanievsky said to remove:

.אמנם הוא [ר’ תנחומא] לא מחבר המדרש הזה ולא מסדרו, רק הבאים אחריו קבצו רוב דרשותיו וספחו אליהם דרשות מבעלי אגדה זולתו, וקראוהו על שמו מפני שהיה דרשן מצוין בזמנו

I do not know why R. Kanievsky was bothered by Eisenstein declaring that R. Tanhuma was a great darshan. Is it because this might imply that other sages were not such great darshanim? But how is this any different than saying, for example, that R. Akiva was a great Torah scholar, a statement that no one would object to?

Finally, R. Kanievsky (notes to p. 214) appears to be defending the so-called letter of R. Yohanan Ben Zakai. This is an obvious forgery, and according to Moshe Hillel was written in Poland in the eighteenth century. See Hillel, Megilot Cochin (Jerusalem, 2018), pp. 259ff. See also pp. 190ff., where Hillel discusses other scholars’ views about the matter
[26] Regarding the Rambam and Rabad, there is a very strange passage in R. Isaac of Komarno, Shulhan ha-Tahor, 167:3. I shudder to think what a Lithuanian rosh yeshiva would say if you mentioned to him the explanation offered for Rabad’s words.

אבל המצוה שיהיה מלח על השולחן ובפרט מי שהוא משורש קין יזהר מאד, מרן האר”י, ובזה תבין דברי הרמב”ם [הל’ חמץ ומצה ח, לח] שפסק לאכול מצה בחרוסת, הוא הטעם כיון שיש לפניו דבר שהוא משובח מן המלח מחוייב לאכול פרוסת הבציעה בדבר שמשובח כיון שעומד לפניו הכרח שיטבול בו את הבציעה המצה כי חרוסת שלהם הי’ מפירות יקרים הרבה מוטעם ביותר וכתב עליו הראב”ד זה הבל ותמהו עליו למה לו לההביל את הדבר שהוא מוזכר אצל הגאונים הראשונים עיין שם, אבל באמת כוונת רבינו רוח הקודש שלו הי’ זה הבל מי ששורשו הבל א”צ למלח ודי בלפתן אבל מי שהוא משורש קין בהכרח שיטבל במלח ולא בחרוסת והוא ענין נפלא

R. Nahum Abraham writes that it is forbidden to print this explanation, as it is so bizarre. See Darkhei ha-Ma’amarim, p. 13 (first pagination).
[27] Imrei Noam (Brooklyn, 2003), vol. 1, p. 225 (to Ex. 4:8-9). See Mendel Piekarz, Ha-Hanhagah ha-Hasidit (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 37.
[28] See here.




The Pew Report and the Orthodox Community (and Other Assorted Comments), part 1

The Pew Report and the Orthodox Community (and Other Assorted Comments), part 1
Marc B. Shapiro
1. Here is a short piece I wrote a right after the appearance of the Pew Report. (The endnote is not part of the original article.)
There has been a great deal of discussion in the wake of the recent release of the Pew Research Center’s “Portrait of Jewish Americans.” Some have focused on the report’s evidence of increasing intermarriage and lack of any Jewish connection of many in the younger generation. Others have zeroed in on some of the survey’s anomalies and results that are simply not correct. For example, the survey informs us that 1% of Ultra-Orthodox Jews had a Christmas tree last year. I would be willing to bet that in the entire world there isn’t even one Ultra-Orthodox Jew with a Christmas tree, and 1% means at least a few thousand Ultra Orthodox households have Christmas trees. After adding in the Modern Orthodox, we are told that 4% of Orthodox Jews have Christmas trees. Being that the survey places the Orthodox at 10% of the Jewish population, and also tells us that there are 5.3 million adult Jews (another one the survey’s surprises), this leads to the result that more than 21,000 adult Orthodox Jews have Christmas trees in their homes.Since these results are not just improbable, but impossible, it raises the general question of how reliable the survey is when it comes to the Orthodox. Can anyone believe the survey when it tells us that in the 18-29 age bracket the Modern Orthodox only account for 1% of the country’s Jews while the Ultra-Orthodox account for 9%, or that in the 30-49 age bracket, the Modern Orthodox are 3% and the Ultra Orthodox 10%. We are also are told that 24% of Ultra-Orthodox Jews handle money on Shabbat but only 19 percent of Modern Orthodox Jews do so. (Who was it that said the Ultra-Orthodox are frummer than the Modern Orthodox?!)

When you read results like these you can only wonder what went wrong, and I hope we get some explanation as to how such results were generated. (Professor Jonathan Sarna has written to me that all surveys have absurd results for various reasons, and “one is to look at broad trends and ignore absurdities.”) Perhaps there was confusion about the way the questions were asked. Such confusion is the only way I can explain that only 64% of the Ultra-Orthodox agree that a person can be Jewish if he works on the Sabbath. The truth is that every Ultra-Orthodox Jew knows that a person who works on the Sabbath is still Jewish (albeit a sinning Jew). I presume that those who answered “no” to the question understood it to be asking if one can be a “good Jew” and work on the Sabbath. (In case anyone has been wondering, I use the term “Ultra-Orthodox” since that is what the survey uses. I don’t know why no one told the survey directors that this term is no longer regarded as appropriate.)

The sort of anomalies I have mentioned appear to be confined to matters of religious life, and other areas seem more believable. For example, we are told that 37% of Modern Orthodox households have incomes in excess of $150,000, which places them in the top ten percent of Americans. This strikes me as on the mark and illustrates one of the great problems with Modern Orthodoxy in the United States. Anyone who has been to Israel knows that there are non-haredi Orthodox Jews in all areas of life. You see men with kippot who are bus drivers, security guards, and doing every other job imaginable. Yet in the United States, Modern Orthodoxy has become largely an upper middle class phenomenon. The cost of a Modern Orthodox lifestyle, which includes expensive schools and camps, is simply beyond most people’s reach. I believe that this cost is a major reason why the Modern Orthodox camp has not picked up much in the way of ba’alei teshuvah.[1]

I have no doubt that many of the non-Orthodox admire the Modern Orthodox lifestyle, and would be willing to try it out, before learning the cost. Many non-Orthodox would also be happy to send their kids to Modern Orthodox schools, but they are not going to sacrifice a middle class lifestyle for this. Those who grow up Modern Orthodox and remain in the community are prepared to make the financial sacrifices (as well as limiting how many children they have). But for those who are not part of the community, the entry fee is simply too high. Needless to say, there are also those among the Modern Orthodox who drift away because of the financial cost, and this drifting often begin when the first child is enrolled in public school. As I see it, the financial burden is the great Achilles’ heel of Modern Orthodoxy, and what prevents it from any real growth. By the same token, those of us in the Modern Orthodox world must recognize that one of the great strengths of the haredi community is that there is room in it for everyone, from the wealthy real estate developer to the blue-collar worker. If, as so many predict, the future of American Orthodoxy is with the haredim, money (or lack of it) will play an important role in this story.

* * * * * *
The Pew Report reported very high levels of intermarriage in the Jewish community.[2] Yet even among those who would never dream of intermarrying, we know that some engage in sexual relations with non-Jews. There is an interesting responsum in this regard by the late R. Moshe Stern, the Debrecener Rav, Be’er Moshe, vol. 4 no. 141.
R. Stern testifies to receiving numerous questions regarding this matter by the very people engaged in such behavior. For those who don’t know anything about R. Stern and who asked him questions, I can tell you that these were definitely not Modern Orthodox people or members of the Lithuanian yeshiva world.[3]
This volume of Be’er Moshe was reprinted in 1984 without any changes. However, sometime after that the volume was reprinted again. There is no indication of when this took place, as the title page is the same as the 1984 edition. (Presumably, the reprint was after R. Stern’s passing in the summer of 1997.)
Someone called my attention to how the responsum appears in this most recent reprint.
The censorship of this responsum can only have one purpose, namely, so that people don’t learn about how some members of R. Stern’s community were having sexual relations with non-Jewish women.
What is the remedy for these men who are intimate with non-Jewish women? Repentance, of course. Yet there is a very strange opinion as to how to go about this repentance. R. Solomon Ephraim Luntshitz, in his Keli Yekar[4] to Numbers 19:21, says something which is so “out of the box” that I am shocked that it has not yet been censored from the Mikraot Gedolot. (Yes, I realize that it is just a matter of time.)

R. Luntshitz is discussing the statement in Yoma 86b: “How is one proved a repentant sinner? Rav Judah said: If the object which caused his original transgression comes before him on two occasions, and he keeps away from it. Rav Judah indicated: With the same woman, at the same time, in the same place.” In context, this means only what it says, but not that someone should actually put himself in this situation. Yet this is exactly the lesson R. Luntshitz derives.
He refers to Berakhot 34b, “In the place where penitents stand even the wholly righteous cannot stand.” R. Luntschitz cites an opinion that the ba’al teshuvah (penitent) of a sexual sin has to put himself in the exact same situation as he was before, that is, to be alone with the very same woman and overcome his inclination. This is not permitted to one who is “wholly righteous” since he is forbidden to put himself in this situation. But the penitent needs to do this in order for his repentance to be complete, and this explains how a wholly righteous one cannot stand where the penitent stands, since the penitent has to put himself in a situation that would be forbidden for the righteous one. R. Luntshitz explains that the very act of repentance, i.e., being alone with the woman, “makes the pure [the tzaddik] impure and the impure [the sinner] pure.”
This is a strange passage for any number of reasons, not least of which that the action of being alone with the woman is itself sinful, even if it never leads to any sexual activity. Yet R. Luntshitz tells us that in this case we have an exception, and true repentance requires intentionally putting oneself in the exact same situation one was beforehand and this time overcoming one’s inclination. Of course, there is no guarantee that the person will emerge successfully from this self-imposed test. R. Israel Isserlein reports such an occurrence, where an individual put himself in this situation in order to achieve proper repentance, but ended up sinning again![5] Sefer Hasidim earlier warned against falling into precisely this trap.[6]
R. Luntschitz’s point is also found in his Olelot Ephraim, vol. 2, no. 228, showing that he was entirely convinced of his position.
R. Luntschitz was the rabbi of Prague, yet a later incumbent of this position, R. Ezekiel Landau, strongly rejects R. Luntschitz’s point. He acknowledges that many shared R. Luntschitz’s error, which I think is interesting since I can’t imagine anyone having such an opinion today.[7] R. Landau doesn’t tell us who else advocated R. Luntschitz’s view, but R. Mordechai Harris,[8] R. Dovid Yoel Weiss,[9] R. Yaakov Levi,[10] and Nahum Rakover[11] provide sources. Among these sources are R. Joseph ben Judah Loeb Jacob, Rav Yevi (Netanya, 2012), to Psalms 36:3, who quotes the Baal Shem Tov as offering the same approach as R. Luntschitz.
Jewish men getting together with non-Jewish women is, of course, not a new thing. The Talmud, Sanhedrin 82a, already refers to this possibility with regard to Torah scholars (!), concluding: “If he is a scholar, he shall have no awakening [i.e., teaching] among the sages and none responding among the disciples.”[12] Avodah Zarah 69b-70a deals with the status of kosher wine on the table when Jewish men are sitting together with a non-Jewish prostitute. Yom Tov Assis, in his article “Sexual Behaviour in Mediaeval Hispano-Jewish Society,”[13] discusses the situation in Spain where it was not uncommon for Jews to have non-Jewish mistresses.[14] Avraham Grossman also deals with this matter and his discussion includes other parts of medieval Europe as well.[15]
In R. Judah ben Asher’s responsa (Zikhron Yehudah, no. 91), we are told about the problem of Jews having sex with their non-Jewish slave girls (and also having impregnating them). A few centuries later, R. David Ibn Zimra testifies that there were men, learned in Torah, who even thought it was permissible for them to have sex with their slaves.[16]
The fact that the prohibition on occasional sexual relations (דרך זנות) with non-Jewish women is only rabbinic[17] no doubt contributed to many not taking it very seriously.[18] Maimonides, Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:2, writes:
אבל הבא על הגויה דרך זנות מכין אותו מכת מרדות מדברי סופרים גזירה שמא יבוא להתחתן. ואם ייחדה לו בזנות חייב עליה משום נידה, ומשום שפחה, ומשום גויה, ומשום זונה. ואם לא ייחדה לו אלא נקרית מקרה אינו חייב אלא משום גויה. וכל חיובין אלו מדבריהן.
R. Moses Isserles [19] even mentions the view of the Tur that intermarriage itself (דרך אישות) is only a rabbinic prohibition.[20] The Bah explains the Tur’s view, Even ha-Ezer 16, as follows, leaving no doubt as to the matter:

אבל בשאר אומות . . . אין בהן איסור כלל מן התורה ואפילו בא עליהן דרך אישות אלא גזירה דרבנן.
This approach, incidentally, could explain how Esther married Ahasuerus, as the prohibition on intermarriage was not yet established.
Maimonides disagrees with the Tur and assumes that there is a biblical prohibition to marry any non-Jew (דרך חתנות), not simply the seven Canaanite nations. Therefore, he claims that Solomon converted all the women he married.[21] However, R. Raphael Berdugo disagrees, and states that there was no halakhic problem with Solomon marrying these women without converting them.[22] This leads him to discuss the story of Pinhas killing Zimri and the whole concept of kana’in pog’in bo. R. Berdugo explains that kana’in pog’in bo only applies when dealing with sexual relations that are public, promiscuous, and the woman is an idolator.[23]
ולא אמרו קנאין פוגעין בו אלא דרך הפקר ועובדת ע”ז ובפרהסיא.
According to R. Berdugo, following the Tur, Jews who are married to non-Jews are only violating a rabbinic prohibition. I mention this since I recently met someone who thought that in messianic days intermarried Jews will be subject to kana’in pog’in bo. I originally thought that this was a clear error. If you look at Maimonides’ formulation, Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:4, you find that contrary to R. Berdugo he indeed includes all non-Jews, not just idolators, as subject to kana’in pog’in bo. (And see his very strong words against Jewish-Gentile sexual relations in Hilkhot Issure Biah 12:6-7.) Yet he is just as explicit that the sexual intercourse has to be public, just like with Zimri.
כל הבועל גויה בין דרך חתנות בין דרך זנות אם בעלה בפרהסיא, והוא שיבעול לעיני עשרה מישראל.
Based on this, it was clear to me that according that according to Maimonides (following Avodah Zarah 36b) an intermarried Jew is not subject to kana’in pog’in bo, as living together is not the same thing as שיבעול לעיני עשרה. Even if one were to reject this point, in the very next halakhah Maimonides states:
ואין הקנאי רשאי לפגוע בהם אלא בשעת מעשה כזמרי . . . אבל אם פירש אין הורגין אותו.
This means that the act of zealotry must take place during the actual sexual act, or at least this is what I thought. But when I investigated a bit I learnt that while my understanding is shared by many, there are also many who assume otherwise. For example, the always interesting R. Shemariah Menasheh Adler states that an intermarried man is indeed subject to kana’in pog’in bo.[24] He claims that Maimonides’ statement just quoted only refers to one who is engaged in an act of promiscuous sex in public. With such a man he can only be killed in the act, but Maimonides is not referring here to a man who is publicly living with a non-Jew. In such a case, R. Adler claims, there is no need for the zealotry to be בשעת מעשה. As for Maimonides’ explicit words כל הבועל גויה בין דרך חתנות R. Adler claims that this only refers to the first act of marital sexual intercourse, and that it needs to be in public for kana’in pog’in bo to be applicable, but not once they have already established a home and are living together. R. Adler also quotes R. Solomon Kluger[25] as agreeing with his basic point, and I have found others as well.[26]
We have seen lots of strange stuff in recent years. Is it only a matter of time before someone disgusted with the high rate of intermarriage decides to act the part of kana’in pog’in bo?
It is also worth noting that most commentators and halakhists assume that kana’in pog’in bo only applies when there is a Jewish man and a non-Jewish woman, not the reverse. Despite this, we indeed have some examples in Jewish history of “honor killings”. For example, in 1311 a Jewish woman who married a Christian and became pregnant was killed by her brothers.[27]
In 1557 an Italian Jew killed his sister because her alleged sexual activity embarrassed the family. Elliot Horowitz, who mentions this case, adds: “Azariah Finzi, the girl’s father, saw fit to defend this action by his only son, asserting that it was ‘inappropriate for one calling himself a Jew, especially a member of one of the best families, to suffer a veil of shame upon his face, being mocked by all who see him for the blemish attached to his family’s reputation.’”[28]
In Teshuvot Hagahot Maimoniyot to Sefer Nashim, no. 25 (found in the standard printings of the Mishneh Torah), there is a responsum which describes how a woman cheated on her husband, apparently with a local non-Jew, and became pregnant. According to her father, she also killed her baby (“the mamzer”[29]) after it was born. Her father, worried that she would apostatize, asked, indeed pleaded with, the local rabbis to permit him to kill his daughter by drowning her in the river. The rabbis turned the request down.
בא אביה של שרה לפני שנים ממנו החתומים למטה ובא לימלך בנו להורות לו אם מותר להרוג בתו לטובעה בנהר ולאבדה מן העולם . . . [אמר אביה] אני מבקשכם בכל מיני תחינה שתתירו לי להורגה.
The case is actually quite sad since she was probably a teenager in over her head. The responsum describes how she would run away from home but her mother would convince her to come back. When her father rebuked her for her behavior, her reply was, “I am not the first woman who did something bad.”R. Asher Ben Jehiel, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rosh 18:13, deals with a case of a woman who was intimate with a non-Jew and became pregnant from him. R. Asher affirms the local rabbi’s decision to cut off her nose. (See also R. Matityahu Strashun, Mivhar Ketavim [Jerusalem, 1969], p. 158 n. 3.)

Also relevant is a very strange story recorded in Ta’anit 24a. It begins by telling us that R. Yose ben Abin left his teacher, R. Yose of Yokeret. His reason was, “How could the man who showed no mercy to his son and daughter show mercy to me?” Let’s leave aside the story of R. Yose of Yokeret and his son. Here is what the Talmud records about him and his daughter.
He had a beautiful daughter. One day he saw a man boring a hole in the fence so that he might catch a glimpse of her. He said to the man, “What is [the meaning of] this?” The man answered: “Master, if I am not worthy enough to marry her, may I not at least be worthy to catch a glimpse of her?” Thereupon he exclaimed: “My daughter, you are a source of trouble to mankind, return to the dust so that men may not sin because of you.”
Although he did not physically kill his daughter, he did express the wish that she die (according to some it was an actual curse), and in the opinion of many commentators this is exactly what happened (see Hagahot ha-Bah, ad loc.). What makes this text so shocking is that the daughter was entirely innocent of any improper behavior. In other words, it was her very existence as a beautiful woman that created the problem, and as such it was better that she simply exit this world before any more men were led into sinful thoughts. I see no way that this story can be brought into line with mainstream rabbinic thought, despite many attempts to do so.[30] (At a future time I can present some lessons that contemporary moralists have derived from this story, which also are quite shocking.)
Returning to the matter of Jewish-Gentile sexual relations, while the Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 16:1, following Maimonides, Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:2, tells us that occasional sexual relations (i.e., no marital relationship) with a non-Jewish woman is only rabbinically prohibited,[31] R. Nissim of Gerona disagrees. Yet if we are indeed dealing with a Torah prohibition then what does the Talmud[32] mean when it states that the Hasmonean Beit Din decreed against sex with a non-Jewish woman? If it was already forbidden according to the Torah, there would be no need for such a decree.
R. Nissim suggests that the Hasmonean Beit Din’s decree was designed to add an additional penalty onto an already existing prohibition. It is not that occasional sex with a non-Jewish woman was banned by the Hasmonean Beit Din, but they merely added the penalty of lashes. The reason for this, R. Nissim points out, is that sometimes people are not concerned about heavenly punishments like karet, but they are concerned with an earthly punishment.[33]
Yet this is a minority view, and the standard approach is that there is no biblical prohibition on occasional private sex with a non-Jewish woman. Here is how the Encylopedia Talmudit sums up the matter[34]:
הבא על הגויה דרך זנות, איסורו מדברי סופרים, גזרה שמא יבוא להתחתן.
(In case people are wondering, I don’t think that this is the sort of information that should be spread among the masses, precisely because that some people might decide that violating a rabbinic prohibition is not such a big deal.)
I keep stressing Jewish men and non-Jewish women, since the situation of Jewish women and non-Jewish men has its own issues that should be postponed to another post. But with regard to Jewish women who are intermarried, let me note that according to R. Ovadiah Yosef, such a woman should be told to go to the mikveh. He also adds that she should not tell the mikveh lady about her situation (I assume because she might then be refused entry).[35]
To be continued.

* * * * * *

 

In an earlier post here I mentioned some of the shocking things said by R. Chaim Kanievsky about R. Shmuel Auerbach. Someone asked me if I could put together a list of the harshest things said by Torah scholars about their contemporaries. This would be an interesting project, and we can also find some very harsh things in this regard in talmudic and midrashic literature. I must stress, however, that often these shocking (to our ears) statements are not as harsh as they sound, since they were not meant to be taken literally. Some rabbis use figures of speech that everyone understands are simply part of a literary genre.
Here is one such example. R. Abba Mari of Lunel, in his attack against the Jewish rationalists, tells us that if he had the power he would do as follows to his opponent[36]:
אקרע סגור לבו להיות בדמו ממרס.
This means “I will cut open his heart so as to stir his blood.” I am sure people in medieval times would also be offended by such a statement. Yet its meaning then was far removed from what it would mean today, and if any of our contemporaries spoke like this we would assume he needed to be institutionalized.
After reading the post, some also wrote to me to express dissatisfaction with the rabbinic leadership in the haredi world. Contrary to what some think, this sort of feeling is not new, and in every generation people have been disappointed with the rabbinic greats. Here, for example, is what appears in the anonymous letter printed at the beginning of R. Mordechai Benet’s Parashat Mordechai.
ואף הגדולים וחכימי דרא לא משגיחים רק לעצמם בלחודוהי לזכות עצמם בלחוד אבל לא לזכות דרא לעורר תשובה בעלמא.
Finally, a couple of people corresponded with me regarding the stories of great rabbis who had totally sublimated their emotions. There are other stories that could be told of rabbis who were not even (at least outwardly) emotionally affected by the death of a child. This is sometimes held up as an example of piety and acceptance of God’s decree. Yet R. David Ibn Zimra (Radbaz) had an entirely different perspective.[37] Regarding one of the “gedolei ha-dor” who when his son died did not shed a tear, Radbaz was asked if this is a good characteristic or not. In his reply, Radbaz does not mince words about how wrong this is, seeing such “piety” as cruel, un-Jewish, and evidence of a psychological problem (to use a modern formulation):
זו מדה רעה מורה על קושי הלב ועל רוע תכונת הנפש והיא מדת אכזריות והוא דרך הפילוסופים האומרים כי זה העולם הכל הוא מעשה תעתועים
[1] Alan Brill has recently written as follows:
Centrism requires its members to live in the top six percent of U.S. income. The community is known for kitsch engagements and weddings, and other signs of conspicuous consumption in the name of religion. In the face of the recent economic downturn many will remain in the community and follow whatever guarantees survival in suburbia.
“The Emerging Popular Culture and the Centrist Community,” in Yehuda Sarna, ed., Developing a Jewish Perspective on Culture (New York, 2014), p. 30. As with everything else Brill writes, this essay is well worth reading. On this same page he refers to the fact, noted by others, that for most Centrist Orthodox Jews, their Orthodoxy has nothing to do with doctrine but is about lifestyle and family values.
Being Orthodox is about family on Shabbat, shiva calls, hospital visits, sharing simchas, and helping others. They consider the warmth of the community as their Orthodox Judaism, yet are oblivious to doctrine and practice demarcations. . . . Many define faith as “everyday morality” rather than institutional commitment or theological Orthodoxy.
I would add that not only is this not new, I believe it is how traditional Judaism has always functioned and is applicable to much of the haredi world as well. In other words, many in the Orthodox world would agree with the Reconstructionist saying, “Belonging is more important than believing.” See Mel Scult, The Radical American Judaism of Mordecai M. Kaplan (Bloomington, 2014), p. xiii.
From Brill’s article I learnt that Aish Hatorah put on a recent Purim megilah reading “that featured as emcee and guests of honor the non-Jewish Chris Noth, who played Mr. Big on Sex and the City, and Snooki, of the MTV show Jersey Shore.” See also here. Brill uses this example, and others, to show the influence of contemporary culture.
I am fascinated by how the haredi world tolerates this sort of thing in the name of kiruv. I personally am very turned off by this, but am apparently in the minority. When I told a couple of twenty-somethings that I think that the following Aish video, with almost three millions hits, makes a mockery of what Yom ha-Din is all about, they thought I was simply out of touch. Yet as I noted to them, contrary to the implication of the video, Rosh ha-Shanah is indeed about spending the day in synagogue in prayer, not about having fun and breakdancing to non-Jewish music.
[2] See my earlier discussions of intermarriage here and here.
Regarding another type of “intermarriage”, see Francesca Trivellato, The Familiarity of Strangers (New Haven, 2009), p. 94, that Sephardim in seventeenth-century Amsterdam were forbidden by their community to marry Ashkenazim. (Poor Sephardim were also given a higher charity subsidy than Ashkenazim.)
[3] See Be’er Moshe, vol. 4, no. 146:26-27, where R. Stern speaks very strongly against the practice in Boro Park and Willamsburg of  men and women going for walks on Shabbat on Yom Tov, as this leads to a mingling of the sexes.
[4] For some reason the title of this commentary is almost always written as Keli Yakar, yet the second word should be Yekar, as appears in Prov. 20:15.
[5] Leket Yosher, ed. Kinarti (Jerusalem, 2010), Hilkhot Yom ha-Kippurim, p. 304.
[6] Sefer Hasidim, ed. Margaliyot, no. 167. While preparing my Torah in Motion classes on R. Joseph Hayyim I found a strange passage in his Ben YehoyadaSotah 36b. Although the Talmud, ibid., records the view that Joseph intended to sin with Potiphar’s wife, R. Joseph Hayyim says that this is not to be taken literally. Rather, Joseph’s intention was to inflame his lust for her so that would then be able to overcome it which would be a great spiritual victory. He says the same thing about King David and Abigail. Although the simple meaning of the Talmud, Megillah 14b, is that David wished to have sex with her, R. Joseph Hayyim states that here, too, all David wished was to arouse his lust in order to then overcome it.
וכן היה הענין אצל דוד הע”ה, בענין אביגיל כשתבע אותה דודאי חלילה לנו לחשוב על אותו צדיק אשר לבו חלל בקרבו, שביקש לחטוא בא”א, אלא כוונתו היתה לעורר התאוה בקרבו, ולהעביר אש החשק בלבבו, כדי שבעת שיגיע לנקודת המעשה ינתק עבותות התאוה, ויכבה אש החשק כרגע, ויחדל ויפרוש מעשות רע
(R. Luntshitz, in the passage from Keli Yekar I cited, specifically states that only one who has already sinned in such a fashion and is engaged in repentance can put himself in this situation, but a tzaddik is absolutely forbidden to do so).
R. Joseph Hayyim’s comment reminds me of the notion that one who has not sinned, and thus has nothing to repent for, should purposely commit a sin. This will then allow him to fulfill the mitzvah of teshuvah, which he would otherwise not be able to do. In a future post I will discuss this.
Regarding King David, I found something quite strange in Etan Levine, Marital Relations in Ancient Judaism (Wiesbaden, 2009), p. 129. Levine writes: “And though the sages hardly regarded extramarital affairs as meritorious, their antipathy to divorce led some of them to opine that extra-marital relations with an unattached, sexually-permitted female was preferable to terminating a marriage.” This might be true, but no valid source is cited to support this idea.. In his note to the quoted passage, Levine writes: “King David’s case was interpreted as proof: it was to prevent his divorcing any of the 18 wives permitted to a king that he was allowed to sexually tryst (יחוד) with Abishag without marrying her (I Ki. 1:1f.). See the Babylonian-born Simeon bar Abba (d. ca. 310CE), a disciple of Rabbi Johanan whose homily he cites in Tb Sanhedrin 22a.” To begin with, R. Shaman (שמן) bar Abba is not quoting R. Johanan in Sanhedrin 22a. What he says is that the fact that David was permitted yihud with Abishag shows how much divorce was disapproved of, for otherwise he would have divorced one of his wives and married Abishag. But where does Levine get the notion that yihud means “sexually tryst.” The Bible itself (!) is explicit that David “knew her not.”
[7] Derushei ha-Tzelah (Warsaw, 1886), derush 1, no. 11.
[8] Yad Mordechai (Jerusalem, 1955), pp. 43-44.
[9] Megadim Hadashim: Berakhot (Jerusalem, 2008), pp. 360-361.
[10] Gan Naul (n.p., 2009), pp. 108ff.
[11] Takanat ha-Shavim (Jerusalem, 2007), pp. 588ff., 595ff.
[12] The Talmud’s teaching (quoted by Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 16:2) is very clear, and events of recent years have shown us that even Torah scholars are not immune to such behavior. Yet I can’t say I was surprised to find that even these clear words are distorted. R. Gedalyah Axelrod, Migdal Tzofim, p. 148 (parashat Pinhas), states that the Talmud and Shulhan Arukh couldn’t really mean that a Torah scholar might have sexual relations with a non-Jew. Therefore, he explains that they really mean that the Torah scholar causes others to do so, by performing fraudulent conversions, and these “converted” women (who are still halakhically non-Jewish) then marry Jews. This is very nice darshanut, but how can anyone take this seriously as an actual explanation of the Talmud and Shulhan Arukh? The Maharal knew better, and in Derekh Hayyim 4:4 he gives the following example:
עשרה תלמידי חכמים יושבים ואחד נכנס לבית זונות ולא נודע איזה שזה מחלל שם שמים בסתר.
See also R. Hayyim Vital, Sefer ha-Hezyonot, ed. Eshkoli (Jerusalem, 1954), p. 33: 

ליל שבת שעברה שכב תלמיד חכם הנקרא בעדת הספרדים “חכם” עם גויה אחת

[13] In Ada Rapoport-Albert and Steven J. Zipperstein, ed., Jewish History: Essays in Honour of Chimen Abramsky (London, 1988), pp. 25-59.

[14] See Sefer Hasidim, ed. Margaliyot, no. 701, that the level of Jewish sexual morality will mirror what appears in society at large.
כמו שמנהג הנכרים כן מנהגי היהודים ברוב מקומות כגון אם הנכרים גדורים בעריות כך יהיו בני היהודים הנולדים באותה עיר.
See also R. Solomon Ben Adret, She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rashba, vol. 1, no. 1209:
ובנות ישראל צנועות הן אלא שהדור מנוולתן.
I was surprised to see Michael Satlow write: “There is no rabbinic law against intercourse with a prostitute.” Tasting the Dish: Rabbinic Rhetorics of Sexuality (Atlanta 1995), p. 166. This is incorrect, as Sanhedrin 82a explicitly states:
בית דינו של חשמונאי גזרו הבא על הכותית [ס”א הגויה] חייב עליה משום נדה שפחה וכו’
See also Geoffrey Alderman’s article, “It is Not a Sin to Visit a Prostitute,” in his The Communal Gadfly (Brighton, 2009), pp. 267-268. I don’t know how he can write such nonsense as the following:
As far as I am aware, there is no general halachic prohibition on Jewish men sleeping with prostitutes, unless the whore is herself Jewish. If not, then, according to the Talmud, a Jewish man who feels the need to visit a prostitute must simply take care to do so in a town in which he is not known – which strikes me as very sound advice.
If the whore is Jewish, however, we are faced with the certainty of multiple acts of adultery [!], all of which are prohibited. This is because intercourse is itself a form of marriage. So the first Jewish man a prostitute consorts with becomes her husband [!]; if she wishes to consort with anyone else, this first Jewish customer will have to give her a get [!]. So will the second, and so on. [!] (I am ignoring for my present purposes, considerations of mikveh, since I have yet to learn of any brothel that has one.)
It is actually a common kabbalistic view that one who has sex with a non-Jewish woman will be reincarnated as a Jewish prostitute. See e.g., R. David Ibn Zimra, Metzudat David, no. 612.
[15] Hasidot u-Mordot (Jerusalem, 2001), pp. 229ff.
[16] She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Radbaz, vol. 1, no. 48.
[17] See Sanhedrin, 82a, Avodah Zarah 36b, Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:1-2; Shulhan Arukh, Even ha-Ezer 16:1, and the commentaries ad loc. R. Moses Isserles, Darkhei Moshe, Hoshen Mishpat 34:4, writes:
בא על הגויה לא מיפסל רק מדרבנן דהא אינו אלא מגזירת בית דין של חשמונאי.
R. Shlomo Goren, Mishnat ha-Medinah (Jerusalem, 1999), p. 142, points out that sex with a non-Jewish woman does not fall under the category of arayot, even rabbinically.
ועל אף חומר האיסור אין זה מגדרי איסור עריות אפי’ מדרבנן.
R. Joseph Kafih, commentary to Mishneh TorahIssurei Biah 12:2, raises a problem with the standard understanding of Maimonides that occasional sex with a non-Jewish woman is only a rabbinic prohibition. Even though Maimonides, Issurei Biah 12:2, writes ולא אסרה תורה אלא דרך חתנות, what is one to do with halakhah 9 [no. 8 in R. Kafih’s edition] which implies the opposite? R. Kafih writes
ומה יעשה בדברי רבנו לקמן הל’ ח שגויה הנבעלת לישראל תיהרג מפני שבאה תקלה לישראל על ידה, ולדבריו [דברי המעשה רקח] שאין אסור דאוריתא איזה תקלה באה על ידה?
Presumably, Maimonides in halakhah 9 is only referring to a public sexual act, which would be regarded as a biblical violation.
[18] After writing this sentence I found that R. Solomon Ibn Verga said the same thing. See Shevet Yehudah (Jerusalem, 1955), p. 134: 

כבר התחילו בספרד לתת עיניהם בבנות הארץ מרוב ההרגל וקצתם לקחו היתר לאמר כי אין בו אלא מלקות

I don’t mean to imply that there wasn’t sexual immorality involving Jewish men and Jewish women, as there was plenty of this as well. R. Asher ben Jehiel, Teshuvot ha-Rosh, nol. 37:1, even speaks about the practice of engaged couples living together (לדור ביחד) before marriage. He tells us that the women did not go to the mikveh since they were embarrassed to do so before marriage. But they weren’t embarrassed to live together before marriage.

[19] Even ha-Ezer 16:1.
[20] Since the consequences of intermarriage are so devastating, one must wonder why there is no explicit biblical prohibition. Be that as it may, in coming years watch for the Conservative movement to halakhically legitimize intermarriage by relying on the view that it is only rabbinically prohibited. As with other rabbinic prohibitions previously abolished by the Conservatives, they will argue that this too can be set aside for important societal concerns.
Maggid Mishneh, Hilkhot Ishut 1:4, recognizes that one cannot logically explain why certain sexual acts are biblically prohibited and others had to wait for the Sages to prohibit them.
ואל תתמה היאך תהיה הישראלית ביאתה בזנות בלאו והגויה מדברי סופרים לפי שאיסור העריות הוא בגזירה ודבר שאין לו טעם בכל פרטיו. והנה תראה שאם חמותו היא בסקילה [צ”ל בשריפה] ואם אמו מדברי סופרים בלבד ונדות בישראלית הוא מן התורה בכרת ובגויה אין נדות כלל אלא מדברי סופרים.
Regarding the Tur’s assertion that there is no biblical prohibition to marry women who are not of the Canaanite nations, this has been hard for many to accept. The Arukh ha-Shulhan, Even ha-Ezer 16:2, states that “it appears to me” that even according to this opinion, if the Jewish man and non-Jewish woman actually live together there is a Torah prohibition. How could the Arukh ha-Shulhan say this when the Tur, Even ha-Ezer 16, states explicitly that contrary to Maimonides, sexual relations דרך אישות with contemporary non-Jewish women does not incur a biblical penalty? Is there a real distinction between sexual relations דרך אישות and living together as husband and wife?. Here are the Arukh ha-Shulhan’s words (following which he cites a talmudic proof for his understanding):
ומ”מ יראה לי דאפילו להחולקים על הרמב”ם מ”מ אם היא בביתו ובועל אותה תמיד כדרך איש ואשתו חייב עלה מדאורייתא
For others who argue that despite the simple sense of his words, the Tur must hold that there is still a biblical prohibition for a Jew to marry a non-Jew, see Otzar ha-Poskim, Even ha-Ezer 16:1. See also R. J. David Bleich, Contemporary Halakhic Problems, vol. 2, p. 273.
Nevertheless, the severity of the stricture against intermarriage tends to indicate that, even according to the Tur, some form of biblical prohibition against intermarriage with non-Jews who are not members of the Seven Nations must exist. The question to be resolved is the nature of the biblical prohibition.
With reference to those who have argued that intermarriage (and even non-marital Jewish-Gentile sexual relations) violates Torah law, Shaye J. D. Cohen writes: “This may be good halakhah and good preventative medicine, but it is bad history and bad exegesis.” “From the Bible to the Talmud: The Prohibition of Intermarriage,” Hebrew Annual Review 7 (1983), p. 30.
[21] Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:2, 13:14.
[22] Mesamhei Lev (Jerusalem, 1990), commentary to ch. 1 (p. 229).
[23] See Hilkhot Issurei Biah 12:5 that there is no kana’in pog’in bo when it comes to a ger toshav.
[24] See Geulat Yisrael (London, 1950), pp. 95ff.
[25] Commentary to Even ha-Ezer 16:2, in the standard eds.
[26] See also R. J. David Bleich, Contemporary Halakhic Problems, vol. 2, pp. 275ff., who argues that intermarriage is the equivalent of a public act of sexual intercourse, and thus biblically forbidden according to all.
[27] See Renée Levine Melammed, “The Jewish Woman in Medieval Iberia,” in Jonathan Ray, ed., The Jew in Medieval Iberia 1100-1500 (Boston, 2012), p. 272.
[28] “Jewish Confraternal Piety in Sixteenth-Century Ferrara: Continuity and Change,” in Nicholas Terpstra, ed., The Politics of Ritual Kinship (Cambridge, 2000), p. 159.
[29] Although her father called the baby ממזר מן הגוי, the term was only being used colloquially, since a child of a non-Jew is not halakhically a mamzer.
[30] R. Samuel Edels, Maharsha, ad loc., states explicitly that R. Yose of Yokeret was wrong in cursing her so that she die. )How many other examples do we have of commentators criticizing talmudic sages?) However, I don’t think Maharsha’s approach will make matters much easier for many readers, because he suggests that instead R. Yose should have cursed her that she become ugly!
ולא יפה עשה לקללה שתשוב לעפרה בשביל כך אלא כי אם לקללה שתשוב לשחרוריתה.
R. Mordechai Karvalho of Tunis, Meira Dakhya (Livorno, 1792), ad loc., also wonders why the daughter had to die. After all, “are we commanded to kill everyone who is beautiful?” He suggests that R. Yose should have kept her inside the house so no man would ever see her.
ובתו ג”כ היא לא עשתה שום עבירה וא”כ היל”ל להחביאה בחדרי חדרים שלא יראה אותה שום אדם ולא ימיתינה וכי מי שהוא יפה תאר מצווין אנו להמיתו
This idea, of keeping unmarried women off the street, is found in various Jewish sources. In his recently published Asaf ha-Mazkir, p. 61, R. Meir Mazuz refers to R. David Kimhi’s commentary to 2 Sam. 13:2: 

ודרך הבתולות בישראל להיות צנועות בבית ולא תצאנה החוצה
R. Mazuz also refers to R. Asher ben Jehiel, Piskei ha-Rosh, Ketubot 7:15, who says that in Spain the בנות, which I assume also means unmarried women, would only go to the bathhouse in the middle of the night, since they were accustomed not be seen outside. In order to show that this was the practice of the pious women of medieval Spain, R. Mazuz cites another source, Tikunei Zohar, no. 58:
צריכא ברתא דאיהי בתולה למהוי סגורה ומסוגרת בבית אביה

With reference to my question at the beginning of this note, R. Mazuz, Asaf ha-Mazkir, p. 128, cites the great R. Raphael Joseph Hazan, Hikrei Lev, vol. 1, Yoreh Deah, no. 26 (p. 29b), that R. Simeon ben Yohai was mistaken in thinking that animals are subject to individual providence:

 

דרשב”י לא ידע . . . אבל האמת אינו כן
R Mazuz cannot accept this sort of language when dealing with R. Simeon ben Yohai:
דמה כוחנו לחלוק על רשב”י בסברא בעלמא, ומה ידענו ולא ידע

Not noted by R. Mazuz is that R. Hayyim Palache cites R. Hazan without objection. See Amudei Hayyim (Izmir, 1875), p. 101a.
[31] In Hilkhot Issurei Biah, 12:6 (followed by Shulhan Arukh 16:2), Maimonides writes that if one who had sex with a non-Jewish woman is not killed by kana’im or given lashes by beit din עונשו מפורש בדברי קבלה שהוא בכרת. The context of this halakhah, and the previous ones, is an act of public sexual relations, the sort that is a Torah violation and subject to kana’in pog’im bo. Yet some understand Maimonides to be also referring to private sexual relations דרך זנות. See Beit Shmuel, Even ha-Ezer 16:4. This position is hard to understand, since as has been pointed out by others, how can there be karet on a rabbinic prohibition? A punishment of karet would seem to imply that we are dealing with a Torah violation, yet Maimonides is explicit that this is not the case with non-public and non-marital sexual relations with a non-Jewish woman. This problem leads R Yosef Rein, Penei Yosef: Sanhedrin (Bnei Brak, 2009), p. 648, to offer the original suggestion that Maimonides is talking about כרת מדרבנן. To complicate the matter even more, in Sefer ha-Mitzvot, neg. com. no. 52, Maimonides indeed states that there is karet for non-public sexual relations with a non-Jewish woman, which contradicts his position in the Mishneh Torah. R. Kafih, in his commentary on Sefer ha-Mitzvot, explains:

כלומר שעונשו חמור כחייבי כרתות
Needless to say, this is a very unlikely explanation, and if Maimonides wanted to say what R. Kafih writes, he could have easily done so instead of speaking of actual karet.
[32] Sanhedrin 82a, Avodah Zarah 36b.
[33] See Hiddushei ha-Ran, Sanhedrin 82a, and also R. Aryeh Leib Heller, Avnei Miluim, Even ha-Ezer 16:1:3. R. Simhah Lieberman, Bi-Shevilei ha-Amim, no. 14, has a very good discussion of the matter. See also the sources showing the seriousness of the offense in R. Michael Bacharach, Arugat ha-Bosem, Even ha-Ezer 16:2. R. Aviad Sar Shalom Basilea also argues against those who claim that occasional sexual relations with a non-Jewish woman is only rabbinically prohibited. See Emunat Hakhamim (Mantua, 1730), ch. 29. Among the points he makes is if occasional sex with a non-Jewish woman is only rabbinically forbidden, then what is the point of the yefat toar law? This is a special law that permitted what otherwise was already forbidden. He also quotes R. Judah Briel that sex with a non-Jewish woman is included as part the prohibition of wasting one’s seed. (It is not clear if R. Briel is speaking homiletically or halakhically. See also Torah Shelemah, Ex. 20, no. 334, for the midrashic statement that one who has sex with a non-Jewish woman violates fourteen [!] separate Torah prohibitions. Regarding this statement, see also Louis Epstein, Sex Laws and Customs in Judaism [New York, 1967], p. 176.)
R. Basilea’s point about yefat toar can easily be refuted. See e.g., Mizrachi to Deut. 21:11 who suggests that the entire point of the law is to permit sex with a married non-Jewish woman, something that otherwise would be forbidden. It implies nothing about occasional private sex with an unmarried non-Jewish woman, which was permitted in the days of the Torah.
כיון שבבית שהוא בצינעה בא עליה הביאה ראשונה למה לי קרא להתירה הא לא אסרה תורה אלא דרך חתנות אבל דרך זנות בביאה ראשונה שאינה אלא מפני יצרו הרע אין איסורה אלא מדברי סופרים ולמה לי קרא למשרייה ושמא יש לומר דמשום אשת איש איצטריך קרא להתירה וצ”ע . . . כל הפרשה הזאת לא נכתבה אלא באשת איש . . . מדאצטריך קרא להתירה בשעת שביה מכלל שבאשת איש דאסירא בעלמא קמיירי, דאי בפנויה [שריא] אפילו בעלמא, כ”ש בשעת שביה, וזהו הנכון אצלי
According to some, another novelty of the yefat toar law is that it also permits rape, which otherwise is forbidden.See also James Diamond, “The Deuteronomic ‘Pretty Woman’ Law: Prefiguring Feminism and Freud in Nahmanides,” Jewish Social Studies 14 (Winter 2008), pp. 61-85.

I previously discussed yefat toar here and here.
To the sources I cited, add R. Eliezer of Metz, Sefer Yereim, ed. Schiff, no. 20, who specifically states that a yefat toar cannot be raped ([called to my attention by R. Chaim Rapoport], and see Toafot Re’em, ad. loc., note 13, that this is already a talmudic dispute).
On the other hand, Maggid Mishneh, Hilkhot Ishut 14:17, states:
וענין יפת תואר חדוש הוא ולא התירה אותה תורה אלא כנגד יצר הרע . . . ובעלה בעל כרחה
R. Pinhas Horowitz, Ha-Makneh, Kiddushin 22a, understands Rashi to permit rape of a yefat toar (I haven’t seen others who agree with this).
מה שפירש”י ז”ל דקידושין תופסין בה אין לפרש שיכול לקדש אותה בע”כ דלא מצינו קידושין בע”כ כי אם ביבמה אלא דע”כ הכי קאמר קרא דלאח’ הגירות בת ליקוחין היא אם מתרצית להתקדש לו ואם לא מתרצת יבא עלי’ בע”כ דהיינו שהתירה התורה נגד היצה”ר
It is precisely with these sorts of passages in mind that, as I have quoted on a number of occasions, R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg states that when there is a dispute among the early authorities, we should decide the halakhah in accord with contemporary sensibilities.
ואגלה להדר”ג [הגרא”י אונטרמן] מה שבלבי: שמקום שיש מחלוקת הראשונים צריכים הרבנים להכריע נגד אותה הדעה, שהיא רחוקה מדעת הבריות וגורמת לזלזול וללעג נגד תוה”ק (כתבי הגאון רבי יחיאל יעקב וויינברג, חלק א סי’ לב).
See also my post here.There are a number of laws in the Torah that are not in line with modern conceptions of morality (the one most in the news these days deals with homosexuality). But I think yefat toar is unique in that I have never seen an English language discussion of the law in an Orthodox publication that actually deals with its parameters in any detail, and cites what the rishonim say about the law. (Searching on the internet I found Jacob Bernstein, “Eshet Yefat To’ar: A New Look” here, but this too does not elaborate in sufficient detail on the morally difficult aspects of the matter.) Could it be that this law is more morally problematic for moderns than the laws dealing with homosexuality and slavery of which we have seen endless discussions? And if so, why?

Here is one final source regarding yefat toar. R. Reuven Katz, Duda’ei Reuven, vol. 2, p. 217, states explicitly that the heter of yefat toar is not proper or ethical, but nevertheless in necessary. While this is a quite provocative formulation, it really reflects the outlook of the Sages. Nevertheless, I don’t know if any contemporary halakhic authorities would write this way (emphasis added).
אמנם קיים בנסיבות מיוחדות היתר לדבר שאינו הגון ומוסרי, כיון שהתנאים אינם יכולים להתעלם מתופעה זה
Regarding rape, there is one other strange thing I would like to share. Maimonides, Hilkhot Ishut 15:17, forbids marital rape. In a case where a woman is in a situation of yibum, and she does not want the Levirate marriage, she is not forced and instead the man must take part in the halitzah ceremony (although according to Maimonides she is regarded as a moredet). See Hilkhot Yibum ve-Halitzah 1:2, 2:10. However, there is a special halakhah when it comes to yibum that even if the man forces her to have sex, it is still a valid yibum and she becomes his wife. (Hilkhot Ishut 2:3).
R. Isaiah of Trani (the Elder), Teshuvot ha-Rid, ed. Wertheimer (Jerusalem, 1987), no. 59, responds to an unnamed questioner who thought that it was permissible for a levir to force his sister-in-law to have sex with him (i.e., to rape her). R. Isaiah expresses his surprise that anyone could make such a mistake (although he acknowledges having heard of others who also erred in this way):
מה שכתבתה [!] למה אין כופין את היבמה להתייבם לא נכונו הדברים האלה לומר לאיש חכם, שלא עלתה על לב אדם שנכפה את היבמה להתייבם . . . אם היבמה אינה רוצה להתייבם והיבם רוצה שנכוף אותה לפניו לא היה ולא נברא
R. Isaiah then states that if the levir was chasing after the woman to rape her (in order to fulfill the mitzvah of yibum), we are commanded to save her from him, even if we have to kill him. (See R. Avraham Shapiro, Shiurei Maran Ha-Gaon Rabbi Avraham Shapiro: Yevamot, Gittin [Jerusalem, 1995] p. 170.)
So far we haven’t seen anything surprising. But in his note to R. Isaiah’s responsum, the editor, R. Avraham Yosef Wertheimer, writes as follows:
ומש”כ רבינו דמצוה להצילה מידו זה חידוש גדול דהא עכ”פ הוא מקיים מצות יבום ולמה עלינו למנוע ממנו אותה מצוה
Wertheimer doesn’t understand why R. Isaiah thinks it is necessary to stop the levir from raping the woman, since after all, he is intending to perform a mitzvah. How Wertheimer could write this after seeing what R. Isaiah explains in his responsum is beyond me.
In a future post I will discuss how the commentators deal with Maimonides, Hilkhot Melakhim 4:4, which appears to be saying that the king may take women as his wives and concubines even against their will.
[34] Vol. 5, s.v. goy, col. 297. See also vol. 3, s.v. boel aramit.
[35] Ma’yan Omer, vol. 7, p. 26. See, however, ibid., p. 294, that on another occasion R. Ovadiah saw no need to instruct intermarried women to go to the mivkeh (and see ibid. for the editor’s explanation of the different answers). See also R. Rafael Evers, Va-Shav va-Rafa, vol. 3, no. 147, for R. Yitzhak Shmuel Schechter’s responsum stating that an intermarried woman should go to the mikveh. This is a very practical question today. Pretty much every outreach minyan has attendees who are intermarried or living with non-Jews. I have also come across people in such circumstances in regular Modern Orthodox synagogues.
When it comes to sexually active single women, both R. Ovadiah and R. Moshe Sternbuch believe that they should be allowed to use the mikveh if they so desire. See Ma’yan Omer, vol. 7, pp. 234, Teshuvot ve-Hanhagot, vol. 1, no. 484. See also Ma’yan Omer, vol. 7, p. 261, that we should not advise women to do this (i.e., it is only if they come on their own that they should be allowed to use the mikveh).
[36] Teshuvot ha-Rashba, ed. Dimitrovsky, vol. 1, p. 639. See Neuman, The Jews in Spain (Philadelphia, 1944), vol. 2, p. 125.
[37] She’elot u-Teshuvot Ha-Radbaz, no. 985. See also R. Solomon Schueck, Torah Shelemah (Satmar, 1909), vol. 2, p. 114b-115a.



The Vilna Gaon, part 2 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)

The Vilna Gaon, part 2 (Review of Eliyahu Stern, The Genius)
by Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
Another reference by the Gaon to the Guide – in this case it is only attributed to him – is found in his comment to Bava Kamma 92b (commenting on (בירא דשתית מיניה לא תשדי בי קלא, which has been published in a number of different sources, most conveniently in the commentary Anaf Yosef to Ein YaakovBava Kamma 92b. The Gaon quoted the Guide as saying that if you find one good thing in a book you shouldn’t deride it for any other nonsense in it.[1]

This must refer to Maimonides’ comment in the Introduction to the Guide where he writes: “All into whose hands it [the Guide] fall should consider it well, and if it slakes his thirst, though it be only one point from among the many that are obscure, he should thank God and be content with what he has understood.”
When it comes to the Guide and the Vilna Gaon, there is also a reference in the Gaon’s commentary to Esther 1:18. Here are the pages from the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition.

As R. Meir Mazuz pointed out,[2] the Gaon is referring to Guide 1:54. However, as you can see, the editor didn’t know this and thus didn’t provide the source.[3]
Here is another example where a learned editor did not know a source in the Guide. In R. Abraham Sofer’s edition of Meiri, Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, p. 170, the Meiri quotes Maimonides, and as you can see in note 4, Sofer comments, “I don’t know where.” Maimonides words are not in any of his halakhic writings, which is why Sofer didn’t know about them, but they do appear in Guide 3:8.

Returning to the Gaon and Maimonides, when it comes to sex the Gaon’s view parallels that of Maimonides in the Guide, although I don’t know if we can speak of influence. Maimonides famously spoke of the sense of touch as being a “disgrace to us.”[4] The Gaon actually had the same opinion in that he regarded sex as something to be loathed and a necessary evil. Only with regard to the spiritual elites did he see something intrinsically positive in it.[5]

שדברי העולם הזה בעצם מאוסים, כמו האכילה, שנוטל מאכל ועושה פרש ורעי וכן המשגל, אבל התכלית, מה שבא מזה הוא טוב, כמו תכלית האכילה שיהא חזק ללמוד תורה, ותכלית המשגל להיות בנים צדיקים וטובים, וזהו תכלית ופעולה. וז”ש בהצדיקים לא מיבעי שהתכלית מזה אצלם טוב, אלא אפילו הפעולה עצמה הוא לחיים, שהן מכוונין בזה ואכילתן כקרבן ממש. וכן בכל דבר.

Yet even when dealing with the righteous, one can only imagine how the Gaon would have reacted if he had seen the following text, from R. Solomon of Karlin, Shema Shelomo (Jerusalem, 1956), p. 96 (sippurim no. 59), in which we see how an unnamed hasidic figure said that he needed sex every day, a statement that shocked his bride to be.[6]

  

Here is another example where the Gaon’s has the same view as Maimonides in the GuideTamid 1:1 states: “The priests kept watch [throughout the night] at three places in the Temple.” Why? In the Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Beit-ha-Behirah 8:1, Maimonides says that this is just a matter of showing respect to the Temple, since there is no fear that anything will be stolen. In his commentary to Tamid 1:1 (found in the Vilna ed.), the Gaon explains that the guards were there to prevent unauthorized entry. In Guide 3:45 Maimonides also offers this explanation (in addition to mentioning that the watch was for glory and honor).

Regarding Meiri’s Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, mentioned above, in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox I mentioned the notes at the end of this volume by Louis Ginzberg, notes that have not yet been removed from newer printings. I neglected to mention this dedication to Ginzberg at the beginning of the volume.

As for Ginzberg’s notes at the end of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, A reader sent me the following, which shows how Yeshivat Ner Israel’s beit midrash copy of the book is “decorated”.


Regarding Sofer’s edition of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah, there is one other important point I must mention. The volume first appeared in 1950 and was subsequently reprinted by Sofer, with no changes to the text of the Meiri or the pagination. This reprint is what appears in the multivolume Beit ha-Behirah that everyone purchases. However, this is unfortunate, because the 1950 edition is far superior. Here is the title page of the first edition, which was published by Yeshiva University.

This edition contains a lengthy and valuable introduction by R. Samuel Mirsky, which deals with various aspects of the Meiri. Furthermore, Mirsky included thirty pages of important notes, many of them textual, that are vital for anyone who studies the Hibbur ha-Teshuvah. (Mirsky also calls attention to the passage in Guide 3:8, which as I noted above, Sofer did not know about.[7]) Quite apart from the 1950 edition, in Talpiot 4 (5710), pp. 417ff., Mirsky published a number of chapters from Hibbur ha-Teshuvah and his notes often call attention to things not mentioned by Sofer. It would therefore be helpful if a new edition of Hibbur ha-Teshuvah was published and included the notes of both Sofer and Mirsky. This new edition should also include the many pages of notes by Yehudah Preis-Horeb and R. Dov Berish Zuckerman that appeared in Talpiot 5 (5712), pp. 880ff., which are also quite valuable.

I can’t explain why Sofer did not include at least Mirsky’s notes when he republished the book. Fortunately, the first edition is available on hebrewbooks.org.

Finally, here is an example where the Gaon’s position is not merely similar to that of Maimonides in the Guide, but is clearly influenced by the latter.[8] In Yahel Or the Gaon states:[9]

כי כל השמות אינן רק משותפין ומושאלין מפעולותיו . . . רק שם הוי”ה . . . והוא שם העצם שאינו מושאל מפעולה רק (מורה) על הויותו תמיד והיותו מעצמו

Here is what Maimonides writes in Guide 1:61 (Ibn Tibbon translation). It is obvious that the Gaon was influenced in this matter by Maimonides’ words.

כל שמותיו יתעלה הנמצאים בספרים כולם נגזרים מן הפעולות, וזה מה שאין העלם בו, אלא שם אחד, והוא יו”ד ה”א וא”ו ה”א, שהוא שם המיוחד לו יתעלה, ולזה נקרא שם המפורש, ענינו, שהוא יורה על עצמו יתעלה הוראה מבוארת אין השתתפות בה . . . להיותו מורה על עצמו יתעלה, מאשר לא ישתתף אחד מן הברואים בהוראה ההיא

P. 109. Stern mentions the report that after the Gaon’s death on Sukkot, when the hasidim continued to celebrate, three hasidim were killed by mitnagdim. It is hard to know whether there is any truth to this story, or to the report of hasidim killing a mitnaged.[10] Unfortunately, in our day we have seen haredi Judaism in Israel descend to a level unimaginable even ten years ago.[11] Harsh rhetoric, which on occasion has led to real violence, is now routine, and the rabbis who use the harsh, and often hateful, speech are never called to account for their actions.[12] It is only a matter of time before we see a religiously motivated murder, and we have already had close calls, including a stabbing at Ponovezh.

Seeing what has occurred in recent months, we can understand why some people might conclude that R. Akiva was right on target when he told his son, “Do not dwell in a town whose leaders are talmidei hakhamim” (Pesahim 112a). In a previous post I already quoted Yeshayahu Leibowitz’s comment that we know the Sages had a sense of humor since they stated תלמידי חכמים מרבים שלום בעולם. Along these lines, many decades ago an unnamed rabbi explained why the blessing reads

הפורש סוכת שלום עלינו ועל כל עמו ישראל ועל ירושלים

The problem with this formulation is that there is no need for Jerusalem to be singled out after mentioning the entire people of Israel. The explanation given is that since Jerusalem has more disputes than anywhere else (and today we could add Bnei Brak) it therefore needs a special mention when asking God to spread over us his shelter of peace.[13]

R. Kook actually claims that the Jewish people are more apt to be involved in internal disputes than any other people. In Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho (Jerusalem, 2006), p. 43, he writes:

ישראל הם עלולים יותר לפירוד ומחלוקת מכל אומה, מפני שריבוי הצביונים שמתחלקים בעמים רבים, כלולים בישראל ביחוד.

I am writing these words not long after a man attacked R. Aharon Leib Steinman, which could easily have caused R. Steinman’s death. So as not to put all the blame on one side, does anyone have any doubt that if Degel ha-Torah was running the show that R. Shmuel Auerbach would right now be under house arrest or sitting in jail? I say this only because I assume that the rhetoric directed against him is hyperbole, because if is not hyperbole, then we should assume that if Degel ha-Torah was in charge he would have been executed by now. Can the rabbis who use this sort of rhetoric really claim that they are innocent when an individual decides to take their words literally and kill someone, even a great Torah scholar? Didn’t these rabbis learn the lesson of the Rabin assassination, that if you call someone a rodef (and thus hayav mitah), someone might very well take you up on this? As for throwing people out of kollels because they didn’t vote for Degel ha-Torah, any kollel that does so should be ineligible for Israeli government money.

Most disappointing in this matter is R. Chaim Kanievsky who seems to think that Torah Judaism has the equivalent of a papacy, and he can thus declare that all are obligated to follow R. Steinman, meaning that there is only one Torah path.[14] This approach first surfaced when R. Elyashiv was ill and R. Kanievsky declared that the torch of leadership had passed to R. Steinman whose word was now law. See here. Have we ever had such a thing in the Lithuanian Torah world where a sage’s unquestioned leadership is formally proclaimed in this manner, as if he were a hasidic rebbe taking over for his deceased father? In the non-hasidic world the people have always chosen their spiritual leaders, as the Sages tell us: עשה לך רב. Never have they been imposed on us from above.

In the booklet Kuntres Tikun Haderah, which is an attack on R. Yehoshua Ehrenberg, the Rosh Yeshiva of the Haderah yeshiva, one of R. Ehrenberg’s great sins is that he declared that “the” gadol ha-dor is not something that can be proclaimed in papal fashion. Here are two of his statements that strike me as entirely reasonable, but which for the followers of R. Kanievsky are enough to turn him into an enemy of Torah Judaism.

ר’ חיים החליט שהרב שטיינמן הוא הגדול. גדול זה לא דבר שאפשר להחליט עליו

לדעתי המושג ,הנהגה, הוא מי שהציבור בפועל שומע בקולו. כמה אחוזים צריך? ר’ חיים חושב שמספיק מה שיש לרב שטיינמן. אולי לא

And here is another statement from R. Ehrenberg, which for his opponents is the height of chutzpah simply because he doesn’t believe that there is currently one authority whose decisions bind everyone.

עוד התבטא בחוצפה עזה: “מאז שהרב אלישיב נפטר אין מנהיג אחד בעם ישראל. אין כזה מושג הנהגה. היום זה התבטל אין אחד שחייבים לשמוע לו

No one is saying that R. Kanievsky shouldn’t express his opinion that his approach is the proper one. But that is very different than what he and his followers have been doing. Declaring that supporters of R. Auerbach are behemot, invalid as witnesses, and should not be given aliyot is just the beginning. אחרי אלף גלגולי מחילות, some believe that R. Kanievsky’s language has unintentionally even verged on incitement to murder. He has followers who will do anything he says, and he has declared that R. Auerbach is a zaken mamre and deserving of sekilah (the death penalty of stoning) for not accepting the leadership of R. Steinman.[15] (Say what you will about R. Auerbach’s politics, he is certainly enough of a Torah scholar to have his own opinion on matters.) R. Kanievsky has also, playing on the word עץ which is how the Bnai Torah party is often referred to, said that its followers should be “hung on a tree”. I assume that this comment was said in a non-serious manner, but as a leader he needs to be aware that there are people who might not see it this way, and take it into their hands to fulfill his words. Was it this sort of language that led followers of Beit Shammai to kill followers of Beit Hillel, a fact attested to by the Jerusalem Talmud?[16] When vitriolic language was used in New Square, we saw how someone decided to take matters into his own hands, and his solution was to burn down a house which would have killed all the inhabitants. Unfortunately, it would no longer be a surprise if one of R. Kanievsky’s followers decided to use violence as part of this milhemet mitzvah.

Considering the shocking things R. Kanievsky has recently said, is it possible that he doesn’t really know the situation, and the people who are meeting with him and getting him to speak about certain matters are really manipulating him? R. Kanievsky has been meeting with people and providing advice for decades and until the last couple of months he never spoke like this. Is there any other explanation for his sudden change of tone? Here is the recording of R. Kanievsky referring to R. Auerbach as deserving sekilah and also referring to him as a zaken mamre and his followers as behemot. I ask the readers, does it sound like R. Kanievsky really understands what is going on? Do we have any idea what sort of information against R. Auerbach various askanim have provided him with?[17]

Let me take you back to an earlier era when we heard the type of rhetoric you can now hear. This is from the front page of the newspaper Davar, Nov. 29, 1972, and came after R. Shlomo Goren was subjected to death threats.

Should we be surprised if what R. Goren was subjected to is soon repeated with R. Auerbach? And even if it doesn’t reach this extreme, we have already seen how much damage can be caused by what the Lithuanian haredim call “השקפה”, to which one can reply:[18]

אין “השקפה” אלא לרעה (ראה רש”י בראשית יח, טז)

Now is as good a time as ever to note that the falsehoods of Yated Ne’eman begin right with the title of this newspaper. The title is derived from Isaiah 22:23 which reads

ותקעתיו יתד במקום נאמן

This means, “And I will fasten him as a peg in a sure place.”

Yet if you look two verses later (Is 22:25) you find the following words

תמוש היתד התקועה במקום נאמן

We see from this is that the word יתד is feminine.[19] Furthermore, throughout rabbinic literature יתד is feminine and it is also feminine in modern Hebrew, meaning that the title of the newspaper should be Yated Ne’emanah.[20] I say this even though there is one biblical verse, Ez. 15:3, where the word is masculine, since I don’t think the newspaper was intending to adopt the usage of one verse in contradiction to the general “Masorah” (as we know how important Masorah is to them).

יתד is a feminine word along the same model – kametz followed by tzeireh – as the following words that are also feminine[21]: חצר, גדר, ירך, כתף


While I think that the newspaper’s title is probably just a simple error, I know some of you conspiracy theorists are thinking about how the people who run Yated don’t like to give the females among us their due, and won’t even publish their pictures, so maybe they see it as disgraceful to have something feminine in the title . . .[22]

Pp. 160-161: Stern records a few of the famous, and from a contemporary perspective, shocking stories about how the Gaon related to his children. “His children divulge that Elijah never once wrote a letter to any of them. Nor when he saw them, once every year or two, did he ever ask about their work or their well-being.” Stern refers to these stories as “painful memories.” I don’t think this is accurate. If they were painful memories, his children would not have recorded them. It might be painful for us to read the stories, but we have to be careful not to project our sense of how parents and grandparents should behave onto a different culture.[23[

Aryeh Morgenstern refers to R. Hayyim of Volozhin’s comment in the introduction to Sifra di-Tzeniuta that the Gaon never asked about how his children were doing and never wrote them letters or read letters from them. According to Morgenstern, this should be seen as a veiled criticism of the Gaon by R. Hayyim, since if he wanted to show people how great the Gaon’s ascetic attachment to Torah was, he didn’t need to bring an example illustrating how the Gaon related to his family.[24] I completely disagree. To suggest that R. Hayyim intended to criticize the Gaon regarding this matter, especially in the introduction to one of the Gaon’s books, is in my mind impossible. While moderns such as Morgenstern might find the description of the Gaon problematic, it was not viewed as such by R. Hayyim, nor by those of our contemporaries who continue to cite this description (and similar ones about other great Torah scholars.)[25]

In an earlier post, available here I noted that David Singer and Moshe Sokol advance the radical view that the Rav’s descriptions of his family members is actually designed to show his opposition to their hyper-intellectualism and pan-halakhism. They write

[T]here is something strange about Soloveitchik’s tales of the Litvaks. The behavior he describes is so radical, so extreme, as to make his presumed heroes seem grotesque. Who, for example, wishing to portray Litvak intellectualism in a positive light, would boast that his father and grandfather set aside all human sentiment and refused ever to enter a cemetery, because a stark encounter with death would have distracted them from the contemplation of the law. Or again, who would tell with pride the following macabre story about his maternal grandfather [referring to the story of R. Elya and his dying daughter]. . . . Stories like this, while ostensibly presented in order to glorify the Litvak, cannot help but evoke strong disapproval in the reader. And this disapproval, it seems safe to assume, is shared in part by Soloveitchik himself, specifically by that part of him which rebels against the Litvak tradition’s spurning of the emotions. The vein of anger that runs through the anecdotal material in “Halakhic Man” is not to be missed.[26]

Again, I find it impossible to accept that the Rav was actually criticizing his father and grandfathers. I say this not because of any pieties, but simply because the Rav’s connection to these people was not merely one of admiration but idolization. It is obvious that Singer and Sokol have a different vantage point than the Rav and traditional Lithuanian Jewish society in general. But why do they assume that what they see as “grotesque” must be shared by the Rav? All one needs to do is peruse haredi hagiographies to find lots of descriptions of what, when it comes to intellect triumphing over emotion, one can call rabbinic counterparts to Mr. Spock.

Returning to Stern, he  also quotes Aliyot Eliyahu’s comment that “to love the path of God and His Torah . . . he [Elijah] had to fight against his human instincts, pause, and let go of his own love for his own children.” Stern notes Solomon Schechter’s comment that Aliyot Eliyahu was “incapable of marking the line between monster and hero,” which again reflects a modern sentiment.

Incidentally, I am sure Schechter’s comment was influenced by what appears in Aliyot Eliyahu, note 51, which is not mentioned by Stern (perhaps because it refers to a segulah?):

סיפר לי גיסי המופלג מ’ זלמן ז”ל נכד הגאון ז”ל, שאמו בת בגר”א היו בני’ מתים כשהם קטנים ר”ל, וכשהיתה מעוברת ממנו [גיסי הנ”ל]., נסעה מביתה [מק’ דיסנא], אל אביה הגר”א שיבקש רחמים שיהיה הולד של קיימא. ובבואה לפניו אמר לה במילים קצרים סגולה לקיום בנים . . . ויותר מזה לא רצה לבטל לדבר עמה.

R. Ephraim Kirschenbaum takes note of this passage and some similar ones and raises the question – which itself I find surprising in a haredi publication – is this proper Torah behavior?[27]

הנה מתיאורים הללו, מגדולים אנשי שם, מצטייר לנו הגר”א כאלו איש אשר מרוב השתקעותו בתורה דוכא כליל כל רגש כלפי ילדיו. האם האדם השלם אמור כך להיות?

The answer his gives, not surprisingly, is that there is a different standard for saintly figures than for the masses.
האמת היא שהגדולים הנ”ל בהלכות ביטול תורה וחומרתו קעסקי, ואין מדבריהם סתירה לפן נוסף.

Stern (p. 161) aptly quotes the Gaon’s suggestion[28]

that one should follow the Babylonian Talmud’s injunction (tractate Eruvin 22a) to “blacken” oneself toward one’s children as a “raven” does to her fledglings. The “raven” the Gaon explains, is “an allegory for the scholar who becomes cruel to his children [so that] he can spend all of his time studying the Torah.”

I would just add to this the quote from the Gaon in R. Samuel Maltzan’s Even Shlomo, ch. 3:4 (emphasis added):

שני מיני גבורה נמצא בעובדי ה’, ונקראים גבורים ואנשי חיל. גבור הוא הכובש את יצרו בעת שבאה העברה לידו, ואנשי חיל הם אבירי הלב בשלמות הבטחון להגות בתורה יום ולילה ושלא להשגיח על בניו ובני ביתו הצועקים ללחם, וכמו שאמרו (עירובין כב ע”א) שחורות כעורב שמשים עצמו אכזרי על בניו כעורב. ומה עושה לו הקב”ה? מזמין לו אדם להחזיקו כיששכר וזבולון.

R. Yitzhak Zilberstein quotes the story found in the introduction to the Gaon’s commentary to Shulhan Arukh according to which the Gaon was so involved in his learning that he forgot about his ill son. Rather than conclude that this is something only for spiritual elites, he seems to regard this as something everyone should strive for. He writes:[29]

וזהו דרגת חשקת התורה, שהוא למעלה מדרגת אהבת התורה, שהחושק בתורה שוכח כל אהבותיו, אפילו ממה שטבע הקב”ה בבריאה, כדוגמת אהבת אב לבן, ויתכן שזה הכונה בגמרא בעירובין (דף כב ע”א) שהתורה מתקיימת במי שמשים עצמו אכזרי על בניו ועל בני ביתו כעורב. דהיינו שחושק בתורה, עד שמשכח כל אהבה אחרת

The removal of what moderns regard as a basic emotional connection to one’s children[30] is also seen the anonymous hagiography of R. Elyashiv, Ha-Shakdan.[31]

I, for one, was quite surprised that this was included in the hagiography, as it runs so much against how people today think about such matters. I also have to say that I find some of what appears in the book very difficult to believe. R. Elyashiv probably knew the entire Talmud by heart, so how are we supposed to believe that he didn’t even know the names of his children?[32]

When Ha-Shakdan appeared I went out on a limb stating that I was sure that this sort of material would never appear in English because of the shocked reaction it would create even among haredi readers in the U.S. It is always dangerous to make predictions about the future, which is why we historians usually stick to the past, but in this case it turns out that I was correct.

In February 2013 Artscroll published an English translation (“adapted and expanded”) of Ha-Shakdan.[33] Without discussing the book or the translation in any detail, let me just call your attention to some of the material that, not surprisingly, was deleted. Here is p. 69 of Ha-Shakdan and p. 123 of the translation.

 

Notice how in the translation most of the paragraph beginning with the words מעבר לזה have been deleted. I think the reason is obvious, as mentioned already. But is Israeli haredi society really so different when it comes to this sort of thing than American haredi society? That is, won’t Israeli readers be saddened to see sentences such as לא היו לו דיבורים עם הבנות and כשהם באים אצלו בביקורים או בתורנות, אין להם שיחה משותפת בכלל

Here is Ha-Shakdan, pp 62-63, and the translation pp. 105-106.

   

Notice how the first two paragraphs on p. 62 are not translated and also the first full paragraph on p. 63. Also, in the translation on p. 106, the second paragraph (“Rav Elyashiv’s lack of involvement . . .”) does not appear in the original. The translator obviously thought that this clarification was important for the English-speaking audience.

Here are two other passages from Ha-Shakdan, pp. 96 n. 69 and 251-252, that also don’t appear in the English translation.

 

Regarding the story on p. 98 n. 69, this should be contrasted with how it is told that R. Avraham Shapiro took up smoking as a way of dealing with the emotional strain of some of the cases he was confronted with as a dayan.

In general, when it comes to the stories reported in Ha-Shakdan, I have to say that I don’t accept the basic message the author is trying to get across. His point is that the stories he tells of R. Elyashiv regarding his indifference to people and events are a result of his complete absorption in Torah study. Yet it should be clear to anyone who reads the book, and knows something about R. Elyashiv, that all we have in these stories are an aspect of R. Elyashiv’s personality that really has nothing to do with absorption in Torah study. There have been plenty of great Torah scholars who were people-persons and conversationalists.

It is obvious that someone who by nature is extremely introverted, as R. Elyashiv was, will be more inclined to find his place among the books than an extrovert. But to describe R. Elyashiv’s personality as a complete outgrowth of Torah study is a distortion and shows a basic ignorance of human psychology. We didn’t need R. Nathan Kamenetsky’s Making of a Godol to realize that great Torah scholars encompass all sorts of personalities and one sort is not any more “authentic” than another. All we can say is that people, including gedolim, are different.[34] While haredim who are knowledgeable about the history of Torah figures love to talk about their different personalities, it is also the case that it is harder in that world to publish something that seriously analyzes a Torah sage’s personality. Yet without such an attempt, you will never get a real biography, only hagiographies.

Here are some quotations from Ha-Shakdan, vol. 2, pp. 246, 248, and plenty more could be added:

הגרי”ש לא מתייחס לכל אחד, וכאשר הוא כן מתייחס למשהו, הוא בוחן בעין משלו כל נושא. הכרעותיו בנושאים רגישים ביותר – ענייניות וחסרות רגש. גם עם צאצאיו, ואפילו הקרובים שביניהם, נוהג הוא באותה ידה של איפוק ואדישות.

כאשר ביום השלישי למלחמה פשטה השמועה שהצבא כבש את העיר העתיקה, והכותל המערבי בידי היהודים, הדבר עורר התרגשות גדולה מאוד. בשלב זה כבר לא עצר בעצמו בעל המעשה, וניגש לרגע לפינתו של רבינו לספר לו כי הצבא כבש כבר את כל מזרח העיר מידי הירדנים! הגרי”ש פסק מהלימוד והקשיב לו עד שכילה לדבר, ולא הגיב כלל. המספר המשיך בהתלהבות: והכותל המערבי גם כן משוחרר! רבינו שמע אותו עד הסוף באדיבות ותשומת לב כדרכו, ובלא שום זיק של התרגשות שב להתנועע ולהחזיר את עיניו בחזרה לגמרא הגדולה להמשיך מהמילה שפסק בה.

There are lot of further examples I can cite from other great rabbis. Here is how the Hafetz Hayyim is described by his son:

Father had no personal friendships with anyone all the days of his life, even though he loved every Jew and especially men learned in the Torah, whom he loved as his very self. Many times did I hear him tell how the daughter of the Vilna Gaon, who lived in another town, once paid a visit to her father. The Gaon inquired after her health and that of her husband and children and then immediately returned to his studies. The daughter began to weep at her father’s apparent indifference, but he declared, “I do not have the time” [in Yiddish, nitoh kein zeit]. So it is not surprising that father, of blessed memory, had no material friendships with anyone . . . . I once heard him explain the verse “And thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all they heart” (Deuteronomy 6:5) to mean that the heart should be so filled with the love of God as to leave no room in it for any other loves.[35]

R. Joseph David Epstein, who cites this passage, hastens to add that this sort of behavior is only intended for the spiritual elites.[36] הדברים האמורים לעיל, על הסתייגות מאהבה משפחה, ועל העלמת עין מצרכי בית, הרי אך לבעלי מדרגה וקדושי עלינו המה

What is one to make of the following story, found in Meir Einei Yisrael (Bnei Brak, 2004), vol. 1, p. 274?:

שמועה התהלכה בינינו שרבי משה לנדינסקי למד שמונה שנים עם חבר בוולוז’ין ולא ידע מה שמו של הבחור. הסיפור הקטן הזה מדגיש את אישיותו העצומה, שהיה בכל הוויתו רק מתמיד, ומעבר ללימוד לא נחשב אצלו שום דבר.

Quite apart from the fact that I don’t believe such a story is possible, I wonder why this is quoted as praise. Is this supposed to be a characteristic of a Torah personality, that you can learn with someone for eight years and never even take the trouble to learn the person’s name? I can’t imagine that the Hafetz Hayyim – R. Londinsky was the rosh yeshiva in Radin – or any of the mussar teachers would think that this is appropriate bein adam le-havero behavior.

Here is another story, found in R. Moshe Sternbuch, Ta’am ve-Da’at, vol. 1, pp. 244-245.

 

I don’t believe such a story is even remotely possible. R. Akiva Eger was a real person, with real feelings, and he loved his daughter. The idea that he could be at her house for an entire Shabbat, after not having seen her for years, and be so engrossed in learning that he didn’t even notice that a different woman had taken her place is simply not believable. Yet it is significant that the story is told as an example of praise, and R. Sternbuch concludes by pointing to it as an example of how gedolim so involved in Torah study forget everything else in the world.  If you would repeat such a story before a Modern Orthodox crowd they would be horrified. What would the haredi masses think of such a story? Would they be inspired by the commitment to learning above all else, or would they share the Modern Orthodox negative reaction?

R. Yonason Rosman called my attention to the following passage in R. Yitzhak Zilberstein’s Tuvkha Yabiu, vol. 1, p. 38, which describes how a yeshiva student was so involved in his learning that he named a newborn daughter with the same name as one of his other daughters, forgetting he already had a child with that name!

אחד האברכים המצויינים בבני ברק, העמל ויגע בתורה, קרא לבתו שנולדה לו בשם פלוני ורק לאחר מכן נזכר שאחת מבנותיו נקראת כבר בשם זה… המדובר במשפחה ברוכה ילדים עד כדי כך שהאב הספיק לשכוח שכבר נעשה שימוש בשם זה. והוא פלא!

Whether the story ever happened is not important. What is important is that it is being told on the assumption that people will be impressed with the yeshiva student’s total absorption in his studies

To be continued

* * * *

1. In recent years, books have appeared on every possible halakhic topic. This genre keeps expanding and here is the title page of a new book, Asurei ha-Melekh by R. Mordechai Agasi of Boro Park.[37]

I thought nothing could surprise me anymore, but this book certainly did. It is a large two volume set, and the first half of volume one deals with the halakhot relevant to one who is serving time in prison (or as I told a friend, “the halakhot of being in jail”). The rest of the book contains words of inspiration, stories, prayers, etc. all of importance for the prisoner. As the author explains in his introduction, the book is needed because of the increase of haredim in the prisons.

התרבתה, לדאבונינו, האוכלוסייה החרדית בבית הסוהר, וגדלה פי כמה.

It really is incredible when one thinks about this, since not too long ago it would have been simply unimaginable that such a sefer would have been needed.

2. Many people are interested in the Rogochover, R. Joseph Rozin. There is no question that he had a fascinating personality and there are many interesting stories about him. Yet very few people actually study his works because they are so difficult. Until now, nothing of significance has appeared in English on his halakhic thought. Therefore, I am happy to recommend R. Dovber Schwartz’s new book, The Rogochover Gaon, for those seeking to learn about this significant figure.

[1] R. Abba Mari of Lunel, Minhat Kenaot, ed. Dimitrovsky (Jerusalem, 199), p. 317 (ch. 23) wrote:
ואני לא על המחזיק בספרי היונים אני כועס ולא אחשבנו ככופר לא כמחליף חק ולא כעוזב ברית ומפר ואם נמצא בהם דבר טוב אפי’ בדף אחד, מציל על כל הספר
See also R. Jacob Lorberbaum, Ma’aseh Nissim (Jerusalem, 2011), Introduction:
וכבר אמרו וידוע כי בדברי תורה אף אם ימצא דבר אחד טוב מציל על כל הספר כולו
In his Torat Gittin (Jerusalem, 2003), Introduction, he writes:
ואמר החכם כי דבר אחד טוב יציל על כל הספר כולו
See also R. Yissachar Tamar, Alei Tamar (Jerusalem, 1979), Zeraim, vol. 1, Introduction, p. 14.
[2] Or Torah, Iyar 5772, p. 741.
[3] R. Mazuz has more to say about the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition of this commentary, which I will perhaps return to in a future post..
[4] See The Limits of Orthodox Theology, pp. 15-16.
[5] The quote that follows come from the Oxford ms. of the Gaon’s commentary to Prov. 10:16. See the Mossad ha-Rav Kook edition, p. 110, n. 56.
[6] The story originally appeared in R. Zvi Ezekiel Michaelson’s Pinot ha-Bayit, p. 78.
[7] R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yehaveh Da’at, vol. 5, no. 35, also provides the source that eluded Sofer.
[8] Credit for this example goes to R. Eliyahu Tziyon Sofer, Tziyon Eliyahu (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 273.
[9] (Vilna, 1982 ), vol. 2, p. 19a.
[10] See Mordechai Wilensky, Hasidim u-Mitnagdim (Jerusalem, 1970), vol. 2, p. 178. This report, contained in the early anti-hasidic text Shever Posh’im, includes names and places and was written not long after the event described. Nevertheless, I would not accept the story as historically accurate without confirmation from other sources, which as far as I know has not been found. See also S.’s post here which discusses another alleged murder by Hasidim. In Sippurei Niflaot mi-Gedolei Yisrael (Tel Aviv, 1969), p. 279, it reports that R. Menahem Mendel of Kotzk thought that R. Shmelke of Nikolsburg made a mistake when he forced his “enlightened” opponents to leave the city. What he should have done, according to the Kotzker, is have them killed.
[11] One positive recent development is that at least some people in Bnei Brak have woken up to the sexual abuse problem. See here where parents are advised not to send children outside by themselves. In the letter it refers to incidents related to “kedushat and taharat Yisrael”. What exactly does this mean? The English translation speaks of kedushat Yisrael being “compromised” by certain “terrible incidents”. Does this mean that the kedushat Yisrael of the victims has been compromised? If so, this is an unbelievably offensive statement, since how can the kedushat Yisrael of a victim, who did no wrong, be compromised based on the evil actions of someone else?
[12] R. Zvi Yehudah Kook wrote (Sihot ha-Rav Zvi Yehudah: Bereshit [Jerusalem, 1993], p. 242):
ר’ שלמה זלמן זצ”ל זקני היה אומר על סוג מסוים של קנאים: “הם חיות קדושות, חיות טורפות שקשה לסבול, אבל בסגנון של קדושה.” אמנם קדושים הם, אבל בגלל שנאתם לישראל, מתעכבת אהבת ד’ אליהם, כדברי הגר”א. ביחס לאף לא אחד מגדולי ישראל, לא מצאנו שבח שהיה שונא ישראל. נכון שלפעמים יש צורך במלחמה מעשית, אבל לא בשנאה, שהיא קטנות.
When R. Zvi Yehudah refers to the Gaon he has in mind the Gaon’s comment to Tikunei Zohar, 57b s.v. דבגינייהו where he writes:
דהש”י שונא מקטרג על בניו אף הקדושים
Elsewhere, R. Zvi Yehudah elaborates (Or li-Netivati [Jerusalem, 1989], p. 307:
חטא גדול הוא לקטרג על ישראל ובהרבה ספרים הוא מוזכר. הגר”א אומר :”ד’ יתברך שונא את המקטרגים על בניו – אף הקדושים,” הגר”א משתמש במילה נוראה זו “שונא” – אפילו על קדושים וצדיקים, אם הם מקטרגים על ישראל ח”ו.
See also R. Shlomo Aviner’s commentary to R. Kook, Orot ha-Tehiyah (Beit El, 2009), vol. 2, p. 175.
[13]> Moshe Aharon Perlman, ed., Mi-Pi Dodi (Jerusalem, 1935), p. 22.
[14] In opposition to this, see the continuation of the passage quoted above from Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho, p. 43:
שינויי דעות בכמה ענינים רוחניים וחומריים אינו מעכב, ואדרבא מועיל, מכל הטפוסים יצא הדבר הטוב הכללי. אלא שהכל צריכים להתאחד בנוגע לכללות קיומה של תורה
[15] See here where Chaim Shaulson asks why R. Auerbach as a zaken mamre is hayav sekilah. According to Sanhedrin 11:1 a zaken mamre is to be strangled (henek).
[16] JShabbat 1:4. See Tosafot, Gittin 36b s.v. אלא.
[17] In general, R. Kanievsky, whose unique greatness in Torah knowledge must be acknowledged by everyone, has made a number of astounding statements over the years. (A few years ago the internet was abuzz with his statement that Jews have a different number of teeth than non-Jews, and more recently we all heard about what he said regarding people who have iPhones.) These sorts of statements can charitably be explained by the fact that since his entire world is Torah he relies on intermediaries for knowledge about the wider world. But this raises the question of why he should be the address for questions relating to political matters.
To give an example of the problem I am referring to, here are two pages from R. Shmuel Baruch Genut, Iggeret ha-Melekh (Elad, 2013), pp. 3-4..


R. Kanievsky declares that there is no medical danger from smoking and the doctors don’t know what they are talking about. Despite his unquestioned Torah brilliance, such as answer shows a complete disregard of reality and encourages unhealthy living. I ask those readers from the haredi world, doesn’t this show that perhaps R. Kanievsky is not the best person to ask when it comes to matters outside of “pure” Torah? I don’t ask this to be disrespectful. I would really like to hear from people who follow R. Kanievsky how they see the matter.

Finally, let me say a word about askanim, since I referred to them. While in the case of the incomprehensible attacks on R. Auerbach I raise the possibility that the askanim have poisoned R. Kanievsky’s view of R. Auerbach, I am not one of those who blaime everything on the “evil askanim” The first time I ever really heard the askanim blamed in a major way was when Making of a Godol was banned. In the first few days after the ban appeared, I remember seeing various people on the internet saying that it couldn’t be true, that it was just the askanim, etc. In the last decade there have been numerous other statements and bans that upset many people, especially in the American haredi world, and we have heard over and over again that gadol x couldn’t have said that which was attributed to him, and that it was a creation of the askanim. Yet in almost every case we have seen that American haredi apologists were wrong and the gadol indeed said that which was attributed to him. 

[18] This comment was originally made by R. Yehudah Naki in his note to R. Ovadiah Yosef, Ma’yan Omer, vol. 12, p. 145.
[19] See also Deut. 23:14: ויתד תהיה לך על אזנך.
[20] This was pointed out to me years ago by R. Nathan Kamenetsky.
[21] See Yitzhak Avinery, Heikhal Rashi (Tel Aviv, 1960), vol. 4, p. 436.
[22] When I pointed out the grammatical problem of Yated Ne’eman’s title to R. Meir Mazuz, he responded:
אבל הם כותבים ביום ששי מדור “יתד חָדָה”. ולפי דעתם שהוא לשון זכר צ”ל יתד חָד (כמו קם, שב, רץ, מנחי ע”ו) אא”כ סוברים שהוא אנדרוגינוס, פעם זכר ופעם נקבה
 A few years ago it was reported that R. Mazuz was going to burn pages from Yated Ne’eman as part of the Purim festivities. See  here.
[23] Stern writes:
           
In one startling vignette, they recount that as their father was preparing to leave on a journey of self-reflection, his favorite child, Shlomo Zalman, fell gravely ill. Elijah refused to change his plans. Only after a month away “not thinking about his family or his children” did the Gaon find himself on the toilet one day wondering about the boy’s well-being (for one is not supposed to think thoughts of Torah then.) He immediately returned home.
This story comes from the Gaon’s sons’ introduction to his commentary on Shulhan Arukh, and Stern has accurately reported what appears there with one exception. According to the text, the Gaon was in the בית הרחיצה  when he recalled his son. While today people use the term “washroom” synonymously with “lavatory”, in this text the meaning is “bathhouse” not “toilet”.
The story recorded with the Gaon might also have a connection to Maimonides’ Guide, as Maimonides writes, Guide 3:51, that the time to focus on worldy things is “while you eat or drink or bathe” (emphasis added). This connection was noted by R. Meir Mazuz, Darkhei ha-Iyun (Bnei Brak, 2012), p. 194.
[24] Mistikah u-Meshihiyut me-Aliyat ha-Ramhal ad ha-Gaon mi-Vilna (Jerusalem, 1999), pp. 258-259.
[25] See ibid., where Morgenstern shows that a statement about the Gaon by his grandson was omitted from the introduction to a book. Although this statement refers to how the Gaon expressed no interest in his grandson or his family, I do not believe it was omitted because of a fear that others would regard this as criticism of the Gaon, but rather due to a general concern of how the Gaon would appear in readers’ eyes.
[26] David Singer and Moshe Sokol, “Joseph Soloveitchik: Lonely Man of Faith,” Modern Judaism 2:3 (October 1982), p. 259.
[27] “Peninim be-Mishnat ha-Gra,” Yeshurun 18 (2006), p. 890.
[28] The Gaon’s comment is in Peirush al Kamah Aggadot (Vilna, 1800), pp. 3b-4a (Stern mistakenly gives the reference as pp. 5-6.)
[29] Hashukei Hemed: Sanhedrin, Introduction, pp. 6-7.
[30] R. Yaakov Moshe Harlap describes R. Kook as having such concern for the kelal that his own relationship with his family was not in any way special to him, and he mentions an episode with R. Zvi Yehudah that illustrated this. See his letter in Me-Avnei ha-Makom 11 (2000), pp. 51-53 (part of the letter is found here):
ואף גם בצער קרובי משפחתו לא היה מרגיש בהם יותר ממה שהרגיש באחרים, שכן בכל מבטו ובחוג ידיעתו לא היה נמצא מושג של פרטים כי אם כללים, ומאי נפקא מיניה בינם לבין אחרים

R. Harlap’s description of R. Kook stands at odds with so much else we know about the special relationship between R. Kook and R. Zvi Yehudah.
[31] 3 vols. (Jerusalem, 2010-2013). All references in this post are to volume 1 unless otherwise noted.
[32] See Yeshurun 28 (5773), pp. 349ff., for three letters from the 1950s from R. Elyashiv to R. Chaim Kanievsky. In the greeting at the beginning of these letters he is careful to mention not only his daughter but also his granddaughter.
[33] The English title is Rav Elyashiv: A Life of Diligence and Halachic Leadership. This translation is also noteworthy, in that as far as I know, it is the only time that Artscroll has allowed material explicitly degrading Torah scholars to appear in its books. One does not find this in the works of Jonathan Rosenblum, Aharon Sorasky, or any of the other writers published by Artscroll. While the following sentence is typical of haredi works published in Israel, it is quite shocking that Artscroll included it, while at the same time deleting other parts of the book. P. 176 n. 5: “Rav Yoel Kluft, av beis din of Haifa, once remarked to his students, ‘If I would be offered a job today as a plumber, I would leave dayanus.’ This sharp statement expressed the bitter feelings of Torah-true dayanim toward the establishment that employed them.” So I guess the many dayanim who didn’t (and don’t) feel this way about being part of the Israeli government-funded batei din are not to be regarded as Torah-true.
[34] Yechezkel Moskowitz was kind enough to send me the booklet “עניני השקפה: Notes of a תלמיד” which appeared in 2004 and records various teachings from R. Henoch Leibowitz. The following is relevant to the matter we are discussing (nos. 5 and 24 from the booklet).

No שיחת חולין? We can’t live like that, so לשם שמים we need to keep our שמחת החיים. Some גדולים of the previous דור were able to be serious, but that may have been because of their personality. חפץ חיים did make some jokes occasionally. [RH (Rosh ha-Yeshiva) told us R. Chaim Ozer joked a lot but R. Elchonon rarely ever.] 

As a young man, R’ דוד [R. Dovid Leibowitz] was by the חפץ חיים when a man came in and began complaining to the ח”ח about a certain גדול that he felt had hurt him in a certain way. R’ דוד was sure the ח”ח would reprimand the man for speaking such about a גדול! But the ח”ח just said “Nu, that’s the גדולים of our דור!” R’ דוד learned 2 things. 1) It’s שייך for גדולים to do something wrong. 2) He’s still a גדול! The ח”ח said “that’s the גדולים of our times” meaning he’s still a גדול but he has more faults. In our youth, we think a גדול is by definition perfect — and if he’s not then he’s not a גדול. It’s not so.

See also R. Yitzhak Dadon, ed., Rosh Devarkha (Jerusalem, 2010), p. 548, where R. Avraham Shapiro is quoted about a certain Torah scholar (not R. Elyashiv, so I have been informed by the source of the story). Yet the message is also applicable with regard to Ha-Shakdan and R. Elyashiv, i.e., there isn’t just one path, and devotion to Torah study doesn’t create one identical personality.

בשיחה שהיתה לכמה תלמידים עם רבינו זצ”ל, הוזכר רב פלוני מרבני דורנו, ואחד הנוכחים הוסיף ואמר באזני הנוכחים: הוא צדיק גדול! רבינו ששמע זאת, פנה אל זה ששיבח ושאל בסקרנות: איך אתה יודע? אותו תלמיד השיב: הוא תמיד בכובד ראש, עם פנים רציניות, אף פעם לא ראיתי אותו צוחק . . . מיד דיבר [הגר”א שפירא] בשבח אותו תלמיד חכם מצדדים אחרים שהכיר בו, והוסיף באזני התלמידים ואמר: שלא תחשבו ש”צדיק” זה דוקא מי שלא יודע לחייך, לזה יש לפעמים סיבות אחרות שאינו יודע לחייך, ואפשר להיות צדיק אמיתי עם מצב רוח טוב.

[35] Mikhtevei ha-Rav Hafetz Hayyim (New York, n.d.), Dugma mi-Darkhei Avi, no. 68 (p. 37), translation in Louis Jacobs, Holy Living: Saints and Saintliness in Judaism (Northvale, 1990), p. 51.
[36] Mitzvot ha-Bayit (New York, 1972), vol. 1, p. 138. 
[37] I wonder about the title of the book, which is derived from Gen. 39:20. אסורי is the ketiv, but אסירי is the keri, so why isn’t the title Asirei ha-Melekh?



The Identity and Meaning of Chashmonai

The Identity and Meaning of Chashmonai [1]
By Mitchell  First
(MFirstatty@aol.com)
        The name Chashmonai appears many times in the Babylonian Talmud, but usually the references are vague. The references are either to beit Chashmonai, malkhut Chashmonai, malkhut beit Chashmonai, malkhei beit Chashmonai, or beit dino shel Chashmonai.[2]  One time (at Megillah 11a) the reference is to an individual named Chashmonai, but neither his father nor his sons are named.
           The term Chashmonai (with the spelling חשמוניי) appears two times in the Jerusalem Talmud, once in the second chapter of Taanit and the other in a parallel passage in the first chapter of Megillah.[3] Both times the reference is to the story of Judah defeating the Syrian military commander Nicanor,[4] although Judah is not mentioned by name. In the passage in Taanit, the reference is to echad mi-shel beit Chashmonai.[5] In the passage in Megillah, the reference is to echad mi-shel Chashmonai. Almost certainly, the passage in Taanit preserves the original reading.[6] If so, the reference is again vague.
 
           Critically, the name Chashmonai is not found in any form in I or II Maccabees, our main sources for the historical background of the events of Chanukkah.[7] But fortunately the name does appear in two sources in Tannaitic literature.[8] It is only through one of these two sources that we can get a handle on the identity of Chashmonai.
————
       Already in the late first century, the identity of Chashmonai seems to have been a mystery to Josephus. (Josephus must have heard of the name from his extensive Pharisaic education, and from being from the family.) In his Jewish War, he identifies Chashmonai as the father of Mattathias.[9] Later, at XII, 265 of his Antiquities, he identifies Chashmonai as the great-grandfather of Mattathias.[10] Probably, his approach here is the result of his knowing from I Maccabees 2:1 that Mattathias was the son of a John who was the son of a Simon, and deciding to integrate the name Chashmonai with this data by making him the father of Simon.[11] It is very likely that Josephus had no actual knowledge of the identity of Chashmonai and was just speculating here. It is too coincidental that he places Chashmonai as the father of Simon, where there is room for him. If Josephus truly had a tradition from his family about the specific identity of Chashmonai, it would already have been included in his Jewish War.
   The standard printed text at Megillah 11a implies that Chashmonai is not Mattathias: she-he-emadeti lahem Shimon ha-Tzaddik ve-Chashmonai u-vanav u-Matityah kohen gadol…This is also the implication of the standard printed text at Soferim 20:8, when it sets forth the Palestinian version of the Amidah insertion for Chanukkah; the text includes the phrase: Matityahu ben Yochanan kohen gadol ve-Chashmonai u-vanav…[12] There are also midrashim on Chanukkah that refer to a Chashmonai who was a separate person from Mattathias and who was instrumental in the revolt.[13]
        But the fact that I Maccabees does not mention any separate individual named Chashmonai involved in the revolt strongly suggests that there was no such individual. Moreover, there are alternative readings at both Megillah 11a and Soferim 20:8.[14] Also, the midrashim on Chanukkah that refer to a Chashmonai who was a separate person from Mattathias are late midrashim.[15] In the prevalent version of Al ha-Nissim today, Chashmonai has no vav preceding it.[16]
        If there was no separate person named Chashmonai at the time of the revolt, and if the statement of Josephus that Chashmonai was the great-grandfather of Mattathias is only a conjecture, who was Chashmonai?
           Let us look at our two earliest sources for Chashmonai.  One of these is M. Middot 1:6.[17]
                        …המוקד בבית היו לשכות ארבע  [18]…ייון מלכי ששיקצום המזבח אבני את חשמוניי בני גנזו בה צפונית מזרחית
From here, it seems that Chashmonai is just another name for Mattathias. This is also the implication of Chashmonai in many of the later passages.[19]
             The other Tannaitic source for Chashmonai is Seder Olam, chap. 30. Here the language is: malkhut beit Chashmonai meah ve-shalosh =the dynasty of  the House of Chashmonai, 103 [years].[20] Although one does not have to interpret Chashmonai here as a reference to Mattathias,  this interpretation does fit this passage.
          Thus a reasonable approach based on these two early sources is to interpret Chashmonai as another way of referring to Mattathias.[21] But we still do not know why these sources would refer to him in this way. Of course, one possibility is that it was his additional name.[22] Just like each of his five sons had an additional name,[23] perhaps Chashmonai was the additional name of Mattathias.[24] But I Maccabees, which stated that each of Mattathias’ sons had an additional name, did not make any such statement in the case of Mattathias himself.
         Perhaps we should not deduce much from this omission. Nothing required the author of I Maccabees to mention that Mattathias had an additional name. But one scholar has suggested an interesting reason for the omission.  It is very likely that a main purpose of I Maccabees was the glorification of Mattathias in order to legitimize the rule of his descendants.[25] Their rule needed legitimization because the family was not from the priestly watch of Yedayah. Traditionally, the high priest came from this watch.[26] I Maccabees achieves its purpose by portraying a zealous Mattathias and creating parallels between Mattathias and the Biblical Pinchas, who was rewarded with the priesthood for his zealousness.[27] Perhaps, it has been suggested, the author of I Maccabees left out the additional name for Mattathias because it would remind readers of the obscure origin of the dynasty.[28] (We will discuss why this might have been the case when we discuss the meaning of the name in the next section.)
—–
             We have seen that a reasonable approach, based on the two earliest rabbinic sources, is to interpret Chashmonai as another way of referring to Mattathias.
        The next question is the meaning of the name. The name could be based on the name of some earlier ancestor of Mattathias. But we have no clear knowledge of any ancestor of Mattathias with this name.[29] Moreover, this only begs the question of where the earlier ancestor would have obtained this name.[30] The most widely held view is that the name Chashmonai   derives from a place that some ancestor of Mattathias hailed from a few generations earlier. (Mattathias and his immediate ancestors hailed from Modin.[31]) For example, Joshua 15:27 refers to a place called Cheshmon in the area of the tribe of Judah.[32] Alternatively, a location Chashmonah is mentioned at Numbers 33:29-30 as one of the places that the Israelites encamped in the desert.[33] In either of these interpretations, the name may have reminded others of the obscure origin of Mattathias’ ancestors and hence the author of I Maccabees might have refrained from using it.
        It has also been observed that the word חשמנים  (Chashmanim) occurs at Psalms 68:32:
                     .לאלקים מני מצרים; כוש תריץ ידיו חַשְׁמַנִּים יאתיו
      Chashmanim will come out of Egypt;  Kush shall hasten her hands to God.
(The context is that the nations of the world are bringing gifts and singing to God.[34])
             It has been suggested that the name Chashmonai is related to חשמנים here.[35] Unfortunately, this is the only time the word חשמנים appears in Tanakh, so its meaning is unclear.[36] The Septuagint translates it as πρέσβεις (=ambassadors).[37] The Talmud seems to imply that it means “gifts.”[38] Based on a similar word in Egyptian, the meanings “bronze,” “natron” (a mixture used for many purposes including as a dye), and “amethyst” (a quartz of blue or purplish color) can be suggested.[39] Ugaritic and Akkadian have a similar word with the meaning of a color, or colored stone, or a coloring of dyed wool or leather; the color being perhaps red-purple, blue, or green.[40] Based on this, meanings such as red cloth or blue cloth have been suggested.[41] Based on similar words in Arabic, “oil” and “horses and chariots” have been proposed.[42] A connection to another hapax legomenon, אשמנים,[43] has also been suggested. אשמנים perhaps means darkness,[44] in which case חשמנים, if related, may mean dark-skinned people.[45] Finally, it has been suggested that חשמנים derives from the word שמן  (oil), and that it refers to important people, i.e., nobles, because the original meaning is “one who gives off light.” (This is akin to “illustrious” in English).[46]
      But the simplest interpretation is that it refers to a people by the name חשמנים.[47] An argument in favor of this is that חשמנים seems to be parallel to Kush, another people, in this verse. Also, יאתיו is an active form; it means “will come,” and not “will be brought.”[48]
        Whatever the meaning of the word חשמנים, I would like to raise the possibility that an ancestor of Mattathias lived in Egypt for a period and that people began to call him something like Chashmonai upon his return, based on this verse.
                                             Conclusions
       Even though Josephus identifies Chashmonai as the great-grandfather of Mattathias, this was probably just speculation. It is too coincidental that he places Chashmonai as the father of Simon, precisely where there is room for him.
        The most reasonable approach, based on the earliest rabbinic sources, is to interpret Chashmonai as another way of referring to Mattathias, either because it was his additional name or for some other reason. A main purpose of I Maccabees was the glorification of Mattathias in order to legitimize the rule of his descendants. This may have led the author of I Maccabees to leave the name out; the author would not have wanted to remind readers of the obscure origin of the dynasty.
       Most probably, the name Chashmonai derives from a place that some ancestor of the family hailed from.
—–
       A few other points:
            º Most probably, the name חשמונאי did not originally include an aleph. The two earliest Mishnah manuscripts, Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138), spell the name חשמוניי.[49] This is also how the name is spelled in the two passages in the Jerusalem Talmud.[50] As is the case with many other names that end with אי (such as שמאי), the aleph is probably a later addition that reflects the spelling practice in Babylonia.[51]
            º The plural חשמונאים is not found in the rabbinic literature of the Tannaitic or Amoraic periods,[52] and seems to be a later development.[53] (An alternative plural that also arose is חשמונים; this plural probably arose earlier than the former.[54]) This raises the issue of whether the name was ever used in the plural in the Second Temple period.
       The first recorded use of the name in the plural is by Josephus, writing in Greek in the decades after the destruction of the Temple.[55] It is possible that the name was never used as a group name or family name in Temple times and that we have been misled by the use of the plural by Josephus.[56] On the other hand, it is possible that by the time of Josephus the plural had already come into use and Josephus was merely following prevailing usage. In this approach, how early the plural came into use remains a question.
      Since there is no evidence that the name was used as a family or group name at the time of Mattathias himself, the common translation in Al ha-Nissim: “the Hasmonean” (see, e.g., the Complete ArtScroll Siddur, p. 115) is misleading. It implies that he was one of a group or family using this name at this time. A better translation would be “Chashmonai,” implying that it was a description/additional name of Mattathias alone.
  °  The last issue that needs to be addressed is the date of Al ha-Nissim.
    According to most scholars, the daily Amidah was not instituted until the time of R. Gamliel, and even then the precise text was not fixed.[57] Probably, there was no Amidah at all for most of the Second Temple period.[58] The only Amidot that perhaps came into existence in some form in the late Second Temple period were those for the Sabbath and Biblical festivals.[59] Based on all of the above, it is extremely unlikely that any part of our text of Al ha-Nissim dates to the Hasmonean period.
    The concept of  an insertion in the Amidah for Chanukkah is found already at Tosefta Berakhot 3:14. See also, in the Jerusalem Talmud, Berakhot 4:1 and 7:4, and in the Babylonian Talmud, Shabbat 24a, and perhaps Shabbat 21b.[60] But exactly what was being recited in the Tannaitic and Amoraic periods remains unknown. The version recited today largely parallels what is found in the sources from Geonic Babylonia. The version recited in Palestine in the parallel period was much shorter. See Soferim 20:8 (20:6, ed. Higger).[61] The fact that the Babylonian and Palestinian versions differ so greatly suggests that the main text that we recite today for Al ha-Nissim is not Tannaitic in origin. On the other hand, both versions do include a line that begins biymei Matityah(u), so perhaps this line is a core line and could date as early as the late first century or the second century C.E.[62]
    In any event, the prevalent version of Al ha-Nissim today, Matityahu … kohen gadol Chashmonai u-vanav, can easily be understood as utilizing Chashmonai as an additional name for Mattathias. But this may just be coincidence. It is possible that the author knew of both names, did not understand the difference between them, and merely placed them next to one another.[63]
        On the other hand, we have seen the reading ve-Chashmonai in both Al ha-Nissim and Tractate Soferim. Perhaps this was the original reading, similar to the reading in many manuscripts of Megillah 11a. Perhaps all of these texts were originally composed with the assumption that Mattathias and Chashmonai were separate individuals. But there is also a strong possibility that these vavs arose later based on a failure to understand that the reference to Chashmonai was also a reference to Mattathias.
——
      Postscript: Anyone who is not satisfied with my explanations for Chashmonai can adopt the explanation intuited by my friend David Gertler when he was a child. His teacher was talking to the class about Mattityahu-Chashmonai and his five sons, without providing any explanation of the name Chashmonai. David reasoned: it must be that he is called חשמני because he had five sons (i.e., חמשי metathesized into חשמי/חשמני)![64]

 

 

[1] I would like to thank Rabbi Avrohom Lieberman, Rabbi Ezra Frazer, and Sam Borodach for reviewing the draft.  I will spell the name Chashmonai throughout, as is the modern convention, even though the vav has a shuruk in the Kaufmann manuscript of the Mishnah and Chashmunai may be the original pronunciation
[2]  The references to beit dino shel Chashmonai are at Sanhedrin 82a and Avodah Zarah 36b.    The balance of the references are at: Shabbat 21b,  Menachot 28b  and 64b, Kiddushin 70b, Sotah 49b, Yoma 16a, Rosh ha-Shanah 18b and 24b, Taanit 18b, Megillah 6a, Avodah Zarah 9a, 43a, and 52b, Bava Kamma 82b, and  Bava Batra 3b. For passages in classical midrashic literature that include the name Chashmonai, see, e.g., Bereshit Rabbah 99:2, Bereshit Rabbah 97 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1225), Tanchuma Vayechi 14, Tanchuma Vayechi, ed. Buber, p. 219, Tanchuma Shofetim 7,  Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, p. 107 (ed. Mandelbaum), and Pesikta Rabbati 5a and 23a (ed. Ish Shalom). See also Midrash ha-Gadol to Genesis 49:28 (p. 866). The name is also found in the Targum to I Sam. 2:4 and Song of Songs 6:7.
     The name is also found in sources such as Al ha-Nissim, the scholion to Megillat Taanit, Tractate Soferim, Seder Olam Zuta, and Midrash Tehillim. These will be discussed further below.
     The name is also found in Megillat Antiochus. This work, originally composed in Aramaic, seems to refer to bnei Chashmunai and/or beit Chashmunai. See Menachem Tzvi Kadari, “Megillat Antiochus ha-Aramit,” Bar Ilan 1 (1963), p. 100 (verse 61 and notes) and p. 101 (verse 64 and notes). There is also perhaps a reference to the individual. See the added paragraph at p. 101 (bottom). This work is generally viewed as very unreliable. See, e.g., EJ 14:1046-47.
Most likely, it was composed in Babylonia in the Geonic period.  See Aryeh Kasher, “Ha-Reka ha-Historiy le-Chiburah shel Megillat Antiochus,” in Bezalel Bar-Kochva, ed., Ha-Tekufah ha-Selukit be-Eretz Yisrael (1980), pp. 85-102,  and Zeev Safrai, “The Scroll of Antiochus and the Scroll of Fasts,” in The Literature of the Sages, vol. 2, eds. Shmuel Safrai, Zeev Safrai, Joshua Schwartz, and Peter J. Tomson (2006). A Hebrew translation of Megillat Antiochus was included in sources such as the Siddur Otzar ha-Tefillot and in the Birnbaum Siddur.
[3] Taanit 2:8 (66a) and Megillah 1:3 (70c). In the Piotrkow edition, the passages are at Taanit 2:12 and Megillah 1:4.
[4] This took place in 161 B.C.E. On this event, see I Macc. 7:26-49, II Macc. 15:1-36, and Josephus, Antiquities XII, 402-412.  The story is also found at Taanit 18b, where  the name of the victor
is given more generally as  malkhut beit Chashmonai.
[5] Mi-shel and beit are combined and written as one word in the Leiden manuscript. Also, there is a chirik under the nun. See Yaakov Zusman’s 2001 edition of the Leiden manuscript, p. 717.
[6] The phrase echad mi-shel Chashmonai  is awkward and unusual; it seems fairly obvious that a word such as beit is missing. Vered Noam, in her discussion of the passages in the Jerusalem Talmud about Judah defeating Nicanor, adopts the reading in Taanit and never even mentions the reading in Megillah. See her Megillat Taanit (2003), p. 300.
   There are no manuscripts of the passage in Megillah other than the Leiden manuscript. There is another manuscript of the passage in Taanit. It is from the Genizah and probably dates earlier than the Leiden manuscript (copied in 1289). It reads echad mi-shel-beit Chashmonai. See Levi (Louis) Ginzberg, Seridei ha-Yerushalmi (1909), p. 180.
   Mi-shel and Chashmonai are combined and written as one word in the Leiden manuscript of the passage in Megillah and there is no vocalization under the nun of Chashmonai here.
[7]  I Maccabees was probably composed after the death of John Hyrcanus in 104 B.C.E., or at least when his reign was well-advanced. See I Macc. 16:23-24.  II Maccabees is largely an abridgment of the work of someone named Jason of Cyrene. This Jason is otherwise unknown. Many scholars believe that he was a contemporary of Judah. Mattathias is not mentioned  in II Macc. The main plot of  the Chanukkah story (=the persecution of the Jews by Antiochus IV and the Jewish rededication of the Temple) took place over the years 167-164 B.C.E.
[8] M. Middot 1:6 (benei Chashmonai) and Seder Olam, chap. 30 (malkhut beit Chashmonai).
[9] I, 36. This view is also found in Seder Olam Zuta, chap. 8.
   Earlier, at I, 19, he wrote that Antiochus Epiphanes was expelled by ’Ασαμωναίου παίδων (“the sons of”  Chashmonai; see the Loeb edition, p. 13, note a. ). This perhaps implies an equation of Chashmonai and Mattathias, But παίδων probably means “descendants of” here.
[10] XII, 265. Jonathan Goldstein in his I Maccabees
(Anchor Bible, 1976),  p. 19,  prefers a different translation of the Greek here. He claims that, in this passage, Josephus identifies Chashmonai with Simon. But Goldstein’s translation of this passage is not the one adopted by most scholars.
   There are also passages in Antiquities that could imply that Chashmonai is to be identified with Mattathias. See XX, 190, 238, and 249. But παίδων probably has the meaning of  “descendants of ” (and not “sons of”) in these passages, and there is no such identification implied.
   The ancient table of contents that prefaces book XII of Antiquities identifies Chashmonai as the father of Mattathias. See Antiquities, XII,  pp. 706-07, Loeb edition. (This edition publishes these tables of contents at the end of each book.) But these tables of contents may not have been composed by Josephus but by his assistants. Alternatively, they may have been composed centuries later.
In his autobiographical work Life (paras. 2 and 4), Josephus mentions Chashmonai as his ancestor. But the statements are too vague to determine his identity. This work was composed a few years after Antiquities.
[11] Goldstein suggests (pp. 60-61) that Josephus did not
have I Macc. in front of him when writing his Jewish War, even though Goldstein believes that Josephus had read it and was utilizing his recollection of it as a source. Another view is that Josephus drew his sketch of Hasmonean history in his Jewish War mainly from the gentile historian Nicolaus of Damascus.
    Most likely, even when writing Antiquities, Josephus did not have II Macc. or the work of Jason of Cyrene. See, e.g., Daniel Schwartz, Sefer Makabim ב (2008), pp. 30 and 58-59, Isaiah M. Gafni, “Josephus and I Maccabees,” in Josephus, the Bible, and history, eds. Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata (1989), p. 130, n. 39, and Menachem Stern, “Moto shel Chonyo ha-Shelishi,” Tziyyon 25
(1960), p. 11.
[12] I am not referring to the Palestinian version as Al ha-Nissim, since it lacks this phrase. The text of Al ha-Nissim in the Seder R. Amram (ed. Goldschmidt, p. 97) is the same (except that it reads Matityah). See also R. Abraham Ha-Yarchi (12th cent.), Ha-Manhig (ed. Raphael), vol. 2, p. 528, which refers to Matityah kohen gadol ve-Chashmonai u-vanav, and seems to be quoting here from an earlier midrashic source. Finally, see Midrash Tehillim, chap. 30:6 which refers to Chashmonai u-vanav and then to beney Matityahu. The passages clearly imply that these are different groups.
[13] See the midrashim on Chanukkah first published by
Adolf Jellinek in the mid-19th century, later republished by Judah
David Eisenstein in his Otzar Midrashim (1915). Mattathias and Chashmonai are clearly two separate individuals in the texts which Einsenstein calls Midrash Maaseh Chanukkah and Maaseh Chanukkah, Nusach ‘ב. See also
Rashi to Deut. 33:11 (referring to twelve sons of  Chashmonai).
[14] As  I write this, Lieberman-institute.com records four manuscripts that have Chashmonai with the initial vav like the Vilna edition, two manuscripts that have Chashmonai without the initial vav (Goettingen 3, and Oxford Opp. Add. fol. 23), and one manuscript (Munich 95) that does not have the name at all. (Another manuscript does not have the name but it is too fragmentary.) There are three more manuscripts of Megillah 11a, aside from what is presently recorded on Lieberman-institute.com. See Yaakov Zusman, Otzar Kivei ha-Yad ha-Talmudiyyim (2012), vol. 3,  p. 211. I have not checked these.
    With regard to the passage in Soferim 20:8, there is at least one manuscript that reads חשמונאי (without the initial vav). See Michael Higger, ed., Massekhet Soferim (1937), p. 346, line 35 (text). (It seems that Higger printed the reading of  ms.ב  in the text here.)
[15] These midrashim are estimated to have been compiled in the 10th century. EJ 11:1511.
[16] The prevalent version is based on the Siddur Rav Saadiah Gaon (p. 255): Matityah ben Yochanan kohen gadol Chashmonai u-vanav. This version too can be read as reflecting the idea that Chashmonai was a separate person.
[17] Middot is a tractate that perhaps reached close to
complete form earlier than most of the other tractates. See Abraham Goldberg, “The Mishna- A Study Book of Halakha,” in The Literature of the Sages, vol. 1, ed. Shmuel Safrai (1987).
[18] The above is the text in the Kaufmann Mishnah manuscript. Regarding the word beney, this is the reading in both the Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscripts. Admittedly, other manuscripts of Mishnah Middot 1:6, such as the one included in the Munich manuscript of the Talmud, read ganzu beit Chashmonai.
But the Kaufmann and Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscripts are generally viewed as the most reliable ones. Moreover, the beit reading does not fit the context. Since the references to Chashmonai in the Babylonian Talmud are often prefixed by the word beit and are never prefixed by the word beney, we can understand how an erroneous reading of beit could have crept into the Mishnah here.
      The Mishnah in Middot is quoted at Yoma 16a and Avodah Zarah 52b. At Yoma 16a, Lieberman-institute.com presently records five manuscripts or early printed editions with beit, and none with bnei. At Avodah Zarah 52b, it records three with beit and one with beney. (The Vilna edition has beit in both places.) Regarding the spelling חשמוניי in the Mishnah, most likely, this was the original spelling of the name. See the discussion below.
[19] See, e.g., Bereshit Rabbah 99:2: חשמונאי  בני ביד  נופלת  יון מלכות  מי ביד,  Bereshit Rabbah 97 (ed. Theodor-Albeck, p. 1225): לוי של משבטו היו חשמוניי שבני,  Pesikta Rabbati 5a, Tanchuma Vayechi 14, Tanchuma Vayechi, ed. Buber, p. 219, Pesikta de-Rav Kahana, p. 107, and Midrash ha-Gadol to Genesis 49:28. See also the midrash published by Jacob Mann and Isaiah Sonne in The Bible as Read and Preached in the Old Synagogue, vol. 2 (1966), p. עב.
      I also must mention the scholion to Megillat
Taanit
. (I am not talking about Megillat Taanit itself. There are no references to Chashmonai there.) As Vered Noam has shown in her critical edition of Megillat Taanit, the two most important manuscripts to the scholion are the Parma manuscript and the Oxford manuscript.
      If we look at the Parma manuscript to the scholion to 25 Kislev, it uses the phrase nikhnesu beney Chashmonai le-har ha-bayit, implying that the author of this passage viewed Chashmonai as Mattathias.
        On 14 Sivan, the Oxford manuscript of the scholion tells us that חשמונאי יד וכשגברה, the city of קסרי was conquered. Probably, the author of this passage is referring to the acquisition of Caesarea by Alexander Yannai, and the author is using Chashmonai loosely. Probably the author meant beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai. (One of these may even have been the original text.)
       On 15-16 Sivan, the Parma manuscript of the scholion tells us about the military victory of  חשמונאי בני over Beit Shean. We know from Josephus (Antiquities XIII, 275-83 and Jewish War I,  64-66) that this was a victory that occurred in the time of John Hyrcanus and that his the sons were the leaders in the battle. But it would be a leap to deduce that the author of this passage believed that John was חשמונאי. Probably, the author was using חשמונאי בני loosely and meant beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai. Not surprisingly, the Oxford manuscript has beit Chashmonai here.
       In the balance of the passages in the scholion, if we look only at the Parma and Oxford manuscripts, references to beit Chashmonai or malkhut beit Chashmonai  are found at 23 Iyyar, 27 Iyyar, 24 Av, 3 Tishrei, 23 Marchesvan, 3 Kislev, 25 Kislev, and 13 Adar.
[20] This passage is quoted at Avodah Zarah 9a. In the
Vilna edition, the passage reads malkhut Chashmonai. The three
manuscripts presently recorded at Lieberman-Institute.com all include the beit preceding חשמונאי. The other source recorded there is the Pesaro printed edition of 1515. This source reads  חשמוניי מלכות.
[21] One can also make this argument based on the passage
in the first chapter of Megillah in the Jerusalem Talmud: משלחשמוניי אחד ויצא. This passage tells a story about Judah (without mentioning him by name). But the parallel passage in the
second chapter of Taanit reads:  חשמוניי בית משל אחד אליו ויצא. As pointed out earlier, almost certainly this is the original reading. Moreover, if a passage intended to refer to a son of Chashmonai, the reading we would expect would be: חשמוניי מבני אחד ויצא.
[22] Goldstein, p. 19, n. 34, writes that the Byzantine
chronicler Georgius Syncellus (c. 800) wrote that Asamόnaios was
Mattathias’ additional name. Surely, this was just a conjecture by the chronicler or whatever source was before him.
[23] The additional names for the sons were: Makkabaios
(Μακκαβαîος),  Gaddi (Γαδδι), Thassi (Θασσι), Auaran (Αυαραν) and Apphous (Απφους). These were the names for Judah, John, Simon, Eleazar and Jonathan, respectively. See I Macc. 2:2-4.
[24] See, e.g., Goldstein, pp. 18-19.  Goldstein also writes (p. 19): Our pattern of given name(s) plus surname did not exist among ancient Jews, who bore only a given name. The names of Mattathias and his sons were extremely common in Jewish priestly families. Where many persons in a society bear the same name, there must be some way to distinguish one from another. Often the way is to add to the over-common given name other names or epithets. These additional appellations may describe the person or his feats or his ancestry or his place of origin; they may even be taunt-epithets. The names Mattityah and Mattiyahu do occur in Tanakh, at I Ch. 9:31, 15:18, 15:21, 16:5, 25:3, 25:21, Ezra 10:43, and Nehemiah 8:4. But to say that these names were common prior to the valorous deeds of Mattathias and his sons is still conjectural. (Admittedly, the names did become common thereafter.)
[25]  See, e.g.,
Daniel R. Schwartz, “The other in 1 and 2 Maccabees,” in Tolerance and Intolerance in Early Judaism and Christianity, eds. Graham N. Stanton and Guy G. Stroumsa (1998), p. 30, Gafni, pp. 119 and 131 n. 49,  and Goldstein,  pp. 7 and 12. See particularly I Macc. 5:62. As mentioned earlier, I Maccabees was probably composed after the death of John Hyrcanus in 104 BCE, or at least when his reign was well-advanced. See I Macc. 16:23-24.
[26] According to I Macc. 2:1, Mattathias was from the priestly watch of Yehoyariv. Of course, even if he would have been from the watch of Yedayah, the rule of his descendants would have needed legitimization because they were priests and not from the tribe of Judah or the Davidic line.
[27] See, e.g., Goldstein, pp. 5-7 and I Macc. 2:26 and 2:54. Of course, the parallel to Pinchas is not perfect. As a result of his zealousness, Pinchas became a priest; he did not become the high priest.
[28]
Goldstein, pp. 17-19. Josephus, writing after the destruction of the Temple and not attempting to legitimize the dynasty, would not have had this concern. (I am hesitant to agree with Goldstein on anything, as his editions of I and II Maccabees are filled with far-reaching speculations. Nevertheless, I am willing to take his suggestion seriously here.)
[29] As mentioned earlier, the identification by Josephus of
Chashmonai as the great-grandfather of Mattathias is probably just speculation.
[30] It has been suggested that it was the name of an
ancestor. See, e.g., H. St. J. Thackeray, ed., Josephus: Life
(Loeb Classical Library, 1926), p. 3, who theorizes that the Hasmoneans were named after “an eponymous hero Hashmon.” Julius Wellhausen theorized that, at I Macc. 2:1, the original reading was “son of Hashmon,” and not “son of Simon.”
See Emil Schürer, The History of the Jewish People in the Age of Jesus Christ, revised and edited by Geza Vermes, Fergus Millar, and Matthew Black, vol. 1 (1973),  p. 194, n. 14.
[31] See I Macc. 2:70, 9:19, and  13:25.
[32]  See, e.g., Isaac Baer, Avodat Yisrael (1868), p. 101, EJ  7:1455, and Chanukah (ArtScroll Mesorah Series, 1981), p. 68.
[33] See, e.g., EJ 7:1455.  Another less likely alternative is to link the name with Chushim of the tribe of Benjamin, mentioned at I Ch. 8:11.
[34] The probable implication of the second part of verse
32 is that the people of Kush will hasten to spread their hands in prayer, or hasten to bring gifts with their hands. See Daat Mikra to 68:32.
[35] This is raised as a possibility by many scholars. Some of the rabbinic commentaries that suggest this include R. Abraham Ibn Ezra and Radak. See their commentaries on Ps. 68:32. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim,חשמן , and R. Yosef Caro, Beit Yosef, OH 682. The unknown author of Maoz Tzur also seems to adopt this approach (perhaps only because he was trying to rhyme with השמנים).
[36] Some scholars are willing to emend the text. See, for example, the suggested emendations at Encyclopedia Mikrait 3:317,  entry חשמנים (such as משמנים = from the oil.) The Brown-Driver-Briggs Hebrew and English Lexicon (1906) writes that there is “doubtless” a textual error here.
[37] So too, Origen (third century). Some Rishonim interpret the termחשמנים  here as rulers or people of importance. See, e.g., the commentaries on Psalms 68:32 of Ibn Ezra (סגנים) and Radak. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim, חשמן
,
and  R. Yosef Caro, Beit Yosef, OH 682. What motivates this interpretation is the use of the term in connection with Mattathias. But we do not know the meaning of the term in connection with Mattathias.
   [38] See Pes. 118b (דורון). Perhaps supporting this is verse 68:30 (lekha yovilu melakhim shai).  See Rashbam to Pes. 118b. Also, the interpretation מנות דורונות is found at Midrash Tehillim (ed. Buber, p. 320). It also seems to be the view of Rashi.
[39] On the Egyptian word ḥsmn as bronze or natron,
and reading one of these into this verse, see William F. Albright, “A Catalogue of Early Hebrew Lyric Poems,” Hebrew Union College Annual 23 (1950-51), pp. 33-34. Jeremy Black, “Amethysts,” Iraq 63 (2001), pp. 183-186, explains that ḥsmn also has the meaning amethyst in Egyptian. But he does not read this into Ps. 68:32. (He reads it into the Biblical  חשמל.)
[40] See, e.g., Black, ibid., and Itamar Singer, “Purple-Dyers
in Lazpa,” kubaba.univ-paris1.fr/recherche/antiquite/atlanta.pdf.
[41] Ludwig Koehler and Walter Baumgartner, The Hebrew
and Aramaic Lexicon of the Old Testament
(1994),  vol. 1, p. 362, interpret “bronze articles or red cloths.” Mitchell Dahood, Psalms II:51-100 (Anchor Bible, 1968) interprets “blue cloth.”
    Based on the Akkadian, George Wolf suggests that חשמנים refers to nobles and high officials because they wore purple clothing. See his Studies in the Hebrew Bible and Early Rabbinic Judaism (1994), p. 94
[42] For “oil,” see Encyclopedia Mikrait 3:317,
entry חשמנים (one of the many possible interpretations mentioned there).  For “horses and chariots,” see Daat Mikra to 68:32 (citing the scholar Arnold Ehrlich and the reference to the coming of
horses and chariots at Is. 66:20).
[43] See Is. 59:10  באשמנים (in the ashmanim).
[44] Ernest Klein,  A
Comprehensive Etymological Dictionary of the Hebrew Language for Readers of English
(1987), p. 58, writes that it usually translated as “darkness.” Some Rishonim who adopt this interpretation are Menachem ben Saruk (quoted in Rashi) and Ibn Janach. Note also the parallel to Psalms 143:3. On the other hand, the parallel to בצהרים at Is. 59:10 suggests that the meaning of  באשמנים is “in the light,” as argued by
Solomon Mandelkern in his concordance Heikhal ha-Kodesh (1896), p. 158.
[45] See Midrash Tehillim (ed. Buber, p. 320):  שחורים
אנשים.  This is the fourth interpretation suggested there. Buber puts the second, third, and fourth interpretations in parenthesis, as he believes they were not in the original text. The first interpretation is  מנות דורונות. The second and third interpretations are farfetched plays on words.
     Also, the original reading in the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan translation of חשמנים seems to be אוכמנא or אוכמנאי,    meaning “dark people.” See David M. Stec, The Targum of Psalms (2004) p. 133. The standard printed editions have a different reading (based on an early printed edition) and imply that חשמנים was the name of a particular Egyptian tribe.
[46] See Mandelkern, p. 433, who cites this view even though he disagrees with it.
[47] A modern scholar who takes this approach is Menachem
Tzvi Kadari. See his Millon ha-Ivrit ha-Mikrait (2006). This also seems to be the approach taken in the standard printed edition of the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, even though this does not seem to be the original reading. See also Rashi to Ps. 68:32, citing Menachem ben Saruk who claims that they are the residents of  Chashmonah. See also Radak, Sefer ha-Shoreshim, חשמן (second suggestion) and Mandelkern, p. 433.
     Gen. 10:14 mentions כסלחים as one of
the sons of Mitzrayim. Interestingly, one of the three early texts of
the Septuagint (codex Alexandrinus, fifth cent.) reads Χασμωνιειμ
(=Chasmonieim) here. If this were the original reading, this would suggest that there were a people called Hashmanim (or something similar) in second century B.C.E. Egypt. But the Sinaiticus and Vaticanus codices (which are earlier than the Alexandrinus codex) do not have this reading; they have something closer to the Hebrew. Most likely, the reading in the Alexandrinus codex is just a later textual corruption. See John William Wevers, Notes on the Greek Text of Genesis (1993), p. 136.
[48] See similarly Deut. 33:21, Proverbs 1:27, Isaiah 41:5
and 41:25, and Job 3:25, 16:22, 30:14, and 37:22.
[49] The Kaufmann manuscript dates to the tenth or eleventh century. The Parma (De Rossi 138) manuscript dates to the eleventh century. The vocalization in both was inserted later. In the Kaufmann manuscript, there is a patach under the nun and a chirik under the first yod. Also, the vav is dotted with a shuruk. (The Parma manuscript does not have vocalization in tractate Middot; the manuscript is not vocalized throughout.).
     The Leiden manuscript of the Jerusalem Talmud includes a chirik under the nun in the passage in Taanit (66a). See Zusman’s 2001 edition of the Leiden manuscript, p. 717. There is no vocalization under the nun in the passage in Megillah (70c).
[50] חשמונאי is the spelling in all but one of the manuscripts and early printed editions of Seder Olam. One manuscript spells the name חשמוני. See  Chaim Joseph Milikowsky, Seder Olam: A Rabbinic Chronography (1981), p. 440.
     Also, חשמוניי  is the spelling in the text of Pesikta de-Rav Kahana that was published by Bernard Mandelbaum in his critical edition of this work (p. 107). (But see the notes for the variant readings.) Also, חשמוניי  is the spelling in the text of the Theodor-Albeck edition of Bereshit Rabbah, at section 97 (p. 1225). (But see the notes for the variant readings.). See also ibid., p. 1274, note to line 6 (חשמניי).
     Also, Lieberman-institute.com cites one manuscript of Menachot 64b with the spelling  חשמוניי. This is also the spelling used by R. Eleazar Kallir (early seventh century). See his piyyut for Chanukkah לצלעי נכון איד (to be published by Ophir Münz-Manor).
[51] I would like to thank Prof. Richard Steiner for pointing this out to me.
[52] Jastrow, entry חשמונאי, cites the plural as appearing in some editions of Bava Kama 82b (but not in the Vilna edition.) Lieberman-institute.com presently records five manuscripts of Bava Kama 82b. All have the word in the singular here. The EJ (7:1454) has an entry “Hasmonean Bet Din.” The entry has a Hebrew title as well: חשמונאים של דין בית. The entry cites to Sanhedrin 82a and Avodah Zarah 36b, and refers to “the court of the Hasmoneans.” (In the new edition of the EJ, the same entry is republished.) Yet none of the manuscripts presently recorded at Lieberman-institute.com on these two passages have the plural.
(Lieberman-institute.com presently records two manuscripts of Sanhedrin 82a and three manuscripts of Avodah Zarah 36b. According to Zusman, Otzar Kivei Ha-Yad Ha-Talmudiyyim, vol. 3, p. 233 and 235, there are three more manuscripts of Sanhedrin 82a extant. I have not checked these.)
     Probably, the reason for the use of the plural in the EJ entry is that scholars began to use the plural for this mysterious bet din, despite the two references in Talmud being in the singular. See, e.g., Zacharias Frankel, Darkhei ha-Mishnah (1859), p. 43.  Other erroneous citations to a supposed word חשמונאים are found at Chanukah (ArtScroll Mesorah Series), p. 68, n. 6.
[53] The earliest references to this plural that I am are
aware of are at Midrash Tehillim  5:11
(ובניו  חשמונאים),  and 93:1 (חשמונאים בני). But it is possible that
חשמונאים may not be the original reading in either of these
passages. The reference at 5:11 is obviously problematic. Also, the line may be a later addition to the work. See Midrash Tehillim, ed. Buber, p. 56, n. 66. (This work also refers to חשמונאי בית  and ובניו חשמונאי. See 22:9, 30:6, and 36:6.) The next earliest use of this plural that I am aware of is at Bereshit Rabbati, section Vayechi, p. 253 (ed. Albeck): חשמונאים בני. This work is generally viewed as an adaptation of an earlier (lost) work by R. Moshe ha-Darshan (11th cent.)
[54] חשמונים is found in the piyyut שמנה כל אעדיף   by R. Eleazar
Kallir (early seventh century) and in the works of several eighth century paytannim as well. Perhaps even earlier are the references in Seder Olam Zuta. See, e.g., the text of this work published by Adolf Neubauer in his Seder ha-Chakhamim ve-Korot ha-Yamim, vol. 2 (1895), pp. 71, 74 and 75. See also the Theodor-Albeck edition of Bereshit Rabbah, section 97, p. 1225, notes to line 2, recording a variant with the reading חשמונים. Also, Yosippon always refers to the חשמונים when referring to the group in the plural. (In the singular, his references are to חשמונאי and חשמוניי.) Also, Lieberman-institute.com
cites one manuscript of Megillah 6a (Columbia X 893 T 141) with the reading חשמונים.
[55] See his Jewish War, II, 344, and V, 139, and Antiquities
XV,403 (Loeb edition, p. 194, but see n. 1).
[56] It is interesting that a similar development occurred
in connection with the name “Maccabee.” The name was originally an additional name of Judah only. Centuries later, all of the brothers came to be referred to by the early church fathers as “Maccabees.” See Goldstein, pp. 3-4.
[57] See, e.g., Allen Friedman, “The Amida’s Biblical and Historical Roots: Some New Perspectives,” Tradition 45:3 (2012), pp.  21-34, and the many references there. Friedman writes (pp. 26-27): The first two points to be noted concerning the Amida’s history are that: (1) R. Gamliel and his colleagues in late first-century CE Yavneh created the institution of the Amida, its nineteen particular subjects, and the order of those subjects, though not their fully-fixed text, and (2) this creation was a critical part of the Rabbinic response to the great theological challenge posed by the Second Temple’s destruction and the ensuing exile…See also Berakhot 28b.
[58] Admittedly, this view disagrees with Megillah 17b which attributes the Shemoneh Esreh of eighteen blessings to an ancient group of 120 elders that included some prophets (probably an equivalent term for the Men of the Great Assembly.) But note that according to Megillah 18a, the eighteen blessings were initially instituted by the 120 elders, but were forgotten and later restored in the time of R. Gamliel and Yavneh. See also Berakhot 33a, which attributes the enactment of  תפילות to the Men
of the Great Assembly.
[59] See, e.g., the discussion by Joseph Tabory in
“Prayers and Berakhot,” in The Literature of the Sages, vol. 2, pp.
295-96 and 315-316. Tabory points to disagreements recorded between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai regarding the number of blessings in the Amidot for Yom Tov and Rosh ha-Shanah when these fall on the Sabbath. See Tosefta Rosh ha-Shanah 2:16 and Tosefta Berakhot 3:13. Disagreements between the House of Hillel and the House of Shammai typically (but not exclusively) date to the last decades of the Temple period. See EJ 4:738. The reference to Choni ha-Katan in the story at Tosefta Rosh ha-Shanah also perhaps supports the antiquity of the disagreement. (This individual is not mentioned elsewhere in
Tannaitic or Amoraic literature.)
[60] With regard to Birkat ha-Mazon, the practice
of reciting Al ha-Nissim here seems to only have commenced in the Amoraic period. See Shabbat 24a.
[61] The first two words of the Palestinian version, פלאיך וכניסי, are also referred to in שמנה כל אעדיף, a Chanukkah piyyut by R. Eleazar Kallir (early seventh century).
[62] Early authorship of Al ha-Nissim is suggested
by the fact that some of its language resembles language in I and II Macc. See particularly I Macc. 1:49, 3:17-20, 4:24, 4:43, 4:55, and II Macc. 1:17 and 10:7. See also perhaps I Macc. 4:59. The original Hebrew version of I Macc. was still in existence at the time of Jerome (4th century). See  Goldstein,
p. 16.
[63] It has already been pointed out that Josephus, having I Maccabees 2:1 in front of him (=Mattathias was the son of  John who was the son of  Simon), was faced with a similar problem. The
solution of Josephus was to conjecture that Chashmonai was the father of
Simon.
[64] I Macc. 2:2-4 states explicitly that Mattathias had
five sons: John, Simon, Judah, Eleazar and Jonathan. Another brother, Ιωσηπον (=Joseph), is mentioned at II Macc. 8:22.But it has been suggested that the original reading here was Ιωαννης (=John), or that Joseph was only a
half-brother, sharing only a mother.



Israel ben Shabtai [Hapstein]. ‘Avodat Yisrael – Book review by Bezalel Naor

Israel ben Shabtai [Hapstein]. ‘Avodat Yisrael (B’nei Berak: Pe’er mi-Kedoshim, 5773 / 2013). 66, 738 pages. 
Reviewed by Bezalel Naor 
Rabbi Israel ben Shabtai Hapstein, the Maggid of Kozienice (or more commonly, the “Kozhnitser Maggid”) (d. 1814) was a major figure in the third generation of East-European Hasidism founded by Rabbi Israel Ba’al Shem Tov, and specifically, a towering luminary within Polish Hasidism. Like his contemporary Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liozhno (and later Liadi), Rabbi Israel studied under Rabbi Dov Baer, the Maggid of Mezritch (who led the Hasidic movement after the death of the founder, Ba’al Shem Tov). Unlike Rabbi Shneur Zalman, whose school of Hasidism, Habad, continues to this very day, Rabbi Israel founded no school and has no hasidim, no followers to speak of, today. 
The same goes for Rabbi Israel’s book. Whereas Rabbi Shneur Zalman’s most famous work, Tanya, has earned the sobriquet (at least among Habad Hasidim) “the written Torah of Hasidism” (“torah she-biketav shel hasidut”), relatively few have studied Rabbi Israel’s magnum opus, ‘Avodat Yisrael (Service of Israel), a commentary on the Pentateuch. Indicative of neglect in this respect, until today the book has been an example of poor typography. First published in 1842, ‘Avodat Yisrael has been reissued periodically with pitifully broken letters of “Rashi” script (today unfamiliar to Hebrew readers without rabbinic training). About now the cognoscenti will chime in, “Afilu sefer torah she-be-heikhal tsarikh mazal” (“Even a Torah scroll in the ark requires luck”) and “Habent sua fata libelli” (“Books have their fates”). 
Thankfully, this horrendous situation has now been remedied. Enter Pe’er mi-Kedoshim, a publishing concern headed by Rabbi Israel Menachem Alter, son of the present Rebbe of Gur. Pe’er mi-Kedoshim has committed itself to re-issuing the classic texts of Hasidic thought in deluxe, state-of-the-art editions. The Kozhnitser Maggid’s ‘Avodat Yisrael is the premier volume in a series envisioned to include: Degel Mahaneh Efraim by Ba’al Shem Tov’s grandson, Rabbi Moses Hayyim Ephraim of Sudylkow (next on the agenda); No’am Elimelekh by Rabbi Elimelekh of Lizhensk; Zot Zikaron by Rabbi Jacob Isaac Horowitz (the “Seer of Lublin”), et cetera. 
The book displays all the benefits that the modern age of Hebrew printing has brought to the sacred realm. The cursive “Rashi” script has been replaced by the square characters familiar to every Hebrew reader, which have then been provided with vowel points and modern punctuation. Sidebars caption the highlights of the Maggid’s comments. Footnotes reference sources in rabbinic and kabbalistic literature, as well as cross-referencing to parallel passages in the Maggid’s own works. As is customary, the book is preceded by “Toledot” (Biography) of the Author, and followed by “Maftehot” (Indices). (At present these indices are purely topical. It is hoped that in the future there will be included an index of the works cited by the Maggid, which will allow students of his thought a glimpse of his library, and the horizon of his intellectual and spiritual world.) 
Quoting the Psalmist, “Who can understand errors?” (Psalms 19:12), the Editors have encouraged readers to offer constructive criticism, including pointing out errata in the present printing. Let us take them up on their kind offer. 
In Parashat Bereshit, end s.v. vayyasem H’ le-Kayin ‘ot (6a), the Maggid observes “that there are times when miracles are performed by the Other Side, as we find in the Gemara, and in the Midrash, Parashat Toledot, that through Arginiton miracles were performed for Rabbi Judah the Prince and his companions, and the Omnipresent has many emissaries.” Where the Maggid alludes to an unspecified “Gemara,” the Editors have supplied within the text itself, within parentheses, “Me’ilah 17b.” If one consults the text of that passage in the Talmud Bavli, one discovers that it concerns miracles wrought by Ben Temalyon (name of a demon) for Rabbi Shim’on ben Yohai during his mission to Rome. When offered the demon’s help, rather than rebuffing him, Rabbi Shim’on resigned himself to accepting his intervention by saying: “Yavo’ ha-ness mi-kol makom.” (“Let the miracle come from any place.”) This statement of Rabbi Shim’on is similar in tenor to the Maggid’s conclusion: “Harbeh sheluhim la-Makom.” (“The Omnipresent has many emissaries.”) 
Clearly, the Editors have read the text of ‘Avodat Yisrael in a disjointed fashion, interpreting that the “Gemara” and the “Midrash, Parashat Toledot” refer to two different stories. My own reading of the situation is that the “Gemara” and the “Midrash, Parashat Toledot” refer to the identical story whereby Rabbi Judah the Prince and his companions were spared the imperial wrath of Diocletian through the intervention of the demon Arginiton (or in the version of the Yerushalmi, “Antigris”). The “Gemara” of course is not the Gemara Bavlit, but rather the Gemara Yerushalmit, and the reference is to the Talmud Yerushalmi at the end of the eighth chapter of Terumot. I rather like my suggested reading for two reasons. First, we are told in the biographical introduction to the book that Rabbi Hayyim of Volozhin attested that the Kozhnitser Maggid was “familiar with Talmud Yerushalmi” (“baki be-Shas Yerushalmi”) (p. 30). Second, in recent years, the Hasidic court of Gur has expended great energy in promoting the study of the hitherto neglected Talmud Yerushalmi, so I believe it especially appropriate that the edition of ’Avodat Yisrael under the guidance of Rabbi Israel Menachem Alter shelit”a offer this alternate solution to deciphering the Maggid’s cryptic reference to “the Gemara.” 
In Parashat Shemot, beginning s.v. ve-sham’u le-kolekha (91a), the Maggid writes that Moses was confronted with a conundrum. On the one hand, he was pressing for some kind of divine assurance that his mission to Egypt be crowned with success and that the Hebrews indeed hearken to his voice. On the other hand, he was concerned that by its very nature a divine guarantee would rob the Hebrews of their free will, forcing them into belief. The assumption is that the Hebrews were redeemed from Egypt in the merit of their faith or emunah. (See Exodus Rabbah, Beshalah [parashah 23] playing on the words “tashuri me-rosh Amanah” [Song of Songs 4:8].) It is a tribute to the originality of the Kozhnitser Maggid that while most Biblical commentators busied themselves with the philosophic problem of God’s hardening the heart of Pharaoh, thereby depriving him of the free will to respond affirmatively to the divine demands, the Maggid explored in the opposite direction the problem of preserving the Hebrews’ free will to disbelieve. The Maggid’s solution to the problem involves some rather esoteric doctrines of Kabbalah, namely “hanhagat gadlut” (“governance of greatness”) versus “hanhagat katnut” (“governance of smallness”), best left for the adept in Jewish mysticism. I would just point out for the record that the Editors missed a cue here. When the Maggid writes “’Ve-hen’ she-hu ahat,” he is clearly referencing the Talmud Bavli, Shabbat 31b: “She-ken bi-leshon yevani korin la-ahat ‘hen’.” (“Hen in Greek is one.”) 
In the section for the festival of Shavu’ot, s.v. u-Moshe ‘alah el ha-Elohim (200a), the Maggid writes: “Since all Israel prepared themselves for the sanctity of the Lord, and a leader is commensurate to his generation, therefore Moses was able to ascend above.” Now the crucial words, the key to understanding this thought, “u-parnas lefi doro” (“and a leader is commensurate to his generation”), have been emended by the Editors to: “kol ehad le-fi koho” (“each according to his ability”). Granted that in the old edition there was some fuzziness concerning these words (“u-parush lefi doro”), but they could still be made out simply by correcting “u-parush lefi doro” to “u-parnas lefi doro,” a well-known Hebrew adage. In the present version, one is at a loss to glean the Maggid’s meaning. (I see now that the wording “kol ehad lefi koho” does occur in the Warsaw 1878 edition of ‘Avodat Yisrael. Unfortunately, the edition I possess is without place or date. Unable to locate a copy of the editio princeps of 1842, I have no way of knowing which version occurs there.) 
In Parashat Mas’ei, end s.v. eleh mas’ei b’nei yisrael (240a), in regard to Tish’ah be-Av, the Maggid discusses the difference between the “batei gava’ei” (“inner chambers”) and the “batei bara’ei” (“outer chambers”), alluded to by the Rabbis in TB, Hagigah 5b. The Maggid’s remarks in this passage are consonant with what he wrote elsewhere in Ner Israel, his commentary to the Likkutim me-Rav Hai Gaon (2a): “In the outer chambers there is sadness and mourning, but for one who is able to ascend to the inner chambers, to the will of the Creator, blessed be He, certainly there is happiness.” (By the way, the kabbalists’ reading of the passage in Hagigah, while opposite Rashi’s, coincides with the version of Rabbenu Hananel. See Rabbi Solomon Elyashev, Hakdamot u-She’arim [Piotrkow, 1909], sha’ar 6, chap. 6, “avnei milu’im” [24b-27b].) 
In Parashat Devarim, end s.v. eleh ha-devarim (246a) there is a quote from Rabbi Isaac Luria’s commentary to the Idra Zuta. The Maggid supplies the exact page number: folio 120. The problem is that the passage does not occur there. The Editors have left the reference in the text untouched. At least in a footnote we should be told that the quote may be found in Rabbi Jacob Zemah, Kol ba-Ramah (Korets, 1785), 122a. (I am indebted to my dear friend Prof. Menachem Kallus for the correct address.) See also Rabbi Hayyim Vital, Sefer ha-Derushim (Jerusalem, 5756 /1996), 214 (left column); and Rabbi Shalom Buzaglo, Hadrat Melekh, 139a. 
In the section for Tu be-Av, s.v. meyuhasot she-bahen (256b-257a), the Maggid writes that there are times that ki-ve-yakhol (as it were), God so delights in Israel that He becomes as a young man (bahur). The Maggid writes that he has dealt with this in his commentary to the line in Avot (beginning Chap. 6), “Barukh she-bahar bahem u-be-mishnatam.” As the Editors point out, the comment is not to be found in the Maggid’s remarks on Avot. Instead, they refer us to a parallel passage in Re’eh, s.v. ve-hineh ha-Midrash (270a). By the same token, they might have referred us to Ner Israel (commentary to Likkutim me-Rav Hai Gaon), 4b: “Ve-nikra bahur ka-arazim…” 
In the section for Rosh ha-Shanah, there is a lengthy kabbalistic homily, the thrust of which is that on that day we ask the Holy One, blessed be He, to reinvest himself in the particular role of “Elohei Yisrael” (“God of Israel”). “The God of these [Jews] is asleep.” Which is to say, [the nations] were not foolish enough to assert that the Sibat Kol ha-Sibbot (Cause of All Causes) is in a state of slumber, only “the God of these [Jews],” in other words, this particular hanhagah (governance) referred to as “Elohei Yisrael” (the God of Israel) is in a state of sleep…and unconsciousness, and there is but “Elaha de-Elahaya” (the God of Gods). Based on this, you will understand the kavvanot (mystical meditations) of Rabbi Isaac Luria for Rosh Hashanah. We awaken Him with the shofar (ram’s horn). (‘Avodat Yisrael, 290b) The Editors duly noted the reference to Rabbi Hayyim Vital, Peri ‘Ets Hayyim, Sha’ar ha-Shofar, chap. 1. But what they should have noted is the following reference which would have been even more instructive: “Now in the days of Mordecai was the mystery of the time of dormita of Zeir Anpin, and the mystery that Haman said ‘There is (yeshno) one people spread and separated among the peoples’ [Esther 3:8]. The Rabbis, of blessed memory, commented on the word ‘yeshno,’ that Haman alleged ‘their God is asleep.’” (Rabbi Hayyim Vital, Sha’ar ha-Purim, beginning chap. 5) The Holy Maggid loaded the kavvanot of Purim on to the kavvanot of Rosh Ha-Shanah
The Kozhnitser Maggid was a preeminent halakhist (specializing in heter ‘agunot, permitting wives of missing husbands to remarry), kabbalist, thinker (penning commentaries to the works of Maharal of Prague), and statesman. With all that, the following anecdote sent a shiver down my spine: The Kozhnitser Maggid was on friendly terms with several prominent members of the Polish nobility. In the eighteenth century, Poland, dismembered and subjected to a tripartite division—whereby Prussia annexed the western portion of Poland; Austro-Hungary annexed Galicia in the south; and Russia annexed the east—simply ceased to exist. A certain Polish nobleman importuned the Maggid to intercede with Heaven on behalf of the Polish nation. The gentleman would not leave the Maggid’s home until promised Polish independence. Finally, the Maggid foretold that at a time in the future Poland would once again be a sovereign nation—for a span of “three shemitin” (three sabbatical cycles or 21 years). When the Jews of Warsaw were being subjected to aerial bombardment by the Luftwaffe in September of 1939, they recalled the Maggid’s prediction. In the aftermath of World War I, in 1918 to be precise, Poland once again declared its independence. Three shemitin had passed from 1918 until 1939. Warsaw capitulated to the Nazis on the eve of Sukkot, the yahrzeit of the Kozhnitser Maggid! This anecdote was told by a witness to Warsaw’s destruction, Rabbi Joseph Friedenson, editor of Dos Yiddishe Vort, the Yiddish magazine of Agudath Israel of America (“Toledot,” p. 37).



Torah mi-Sinai and More

Torah mi-Sinai and More
by Marc B. Shapiro
1. Some people have requested that I do more posts on theological matters, as I have done in the past. So let me begin with what I think will be a three-part series on Torah mi-Sinai.
In a previous post, available here, I mentioned R. Shlomo Fisher’s rejection of R. Moshe Feinstein’s view that R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s “biblical criticism” was not authentic. As R. Fisher put it, R. Moshe assumed that even in the past everyone had to accept Maimonides’ principles, but that was not the case, and when it came to Mosaic authorship R. Yehudah he-Hasid disagreed with Maimonides. R. Uri Sharki has apparently also discussed this with R. Fisher, as he cites the latter as claiming that the issue of whether post-Mosaic additions are religiously objectionable is a dispute between the medieval Ashkenazic and Sephardic sages. See here
What this means is that in medieval Ashkenaz it was not regarded as heretical to posit post-Mosaic additions, while the opposite was the case in the Sephardic world (and this would explain why Ibn Ezra could only hint to his view). I am skeptical of this point, particularly because Ibn Ezra’s secrets are, in fact, explained openly by people who lived in the Sephardic world.[1] Yet Haym Soloveitchik has also recently made same point, and pointed to differences between Jews living in the Christian and Muslim worlds. His argument is that since medieval Ashkenazic Jews were not confronted with a theological challenge of the sort Jews dealt with in the Islamic world, where Jews were accused of altering the text of the Pentateuch, there was no assumption in medieval Europe that belief in what we know as Maimonides’ Eighth Principle was a binding doctrine of faith.
Here is some of what Soloveitchik wrote (the emphasis does not appear in the original):
One tanna had stated, simply and with no ado, that the last eight verses were of Divine origin but not of Mosaic authorship, and R. Yehudah he-Hasid added that there were several more verses that were not penned by Moses. Was such a position seen as being thoroughly mistaken? Most probably. Was it viewed as odd and non-conformist? Undoubtedly; though hardly more eccentric than R. Yehudah’s view that King David, to flesh out his book of Psalms, lifted from the text of the “original” Pentateuch many anonymous “psalms” that Moses had penned! Were these strange and misguided views, however, perceived as being in any way heretical or even dangerous? At that time and place, certainly not. They contained no concession to the surrounding culture, opened no Pandora’s Box of questions. Indeed, one can take the religious temperature of R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s explanation by the matter of fact way European medieval commentators (rishonim) treated the passages in Menahot and Bava Batra where the tannaitic dictum of Joshua’s authorship is brought.[2] In their world, these words did not abut any slippery slope of a “documentary hypothesis” or of “Jewish forgery”. No need, therefore, to reinterpret this passage or to forfend any untoward implications. What concerned R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s contemporaries, the Tosafists, in this statement were its practical halakhic implications for the Sabbath Torah readings, not its theological or dogmatic ones, for to them, as to R. Yehudah, there were none.[3]
Sharki, who is a leading kiruv figure in the Religious Zionist world, adds something quite amazing. From the standpoint of Ibn Ezra and R. Yehudah he-Hasid, which he sees as an acceptable approach, he writes that what is important is the belief that the Torah is true and from God.
 עיקר האמונה הוא להאמין שכל דברי התורה אמת ושהם מפי ה’
In other words, Mosaic authorship is not something people need to put such a focus on.
Sharki goes even further, stating that according to the Kuzari, post-Mosaic prophets could add to and delete material in the Torah. As support for this viewpoint, he cites an article by R. Yosef Kellner in Tzohar 22. (Kellner is a leading interpreter of R. Kook from the hardali camp.) I looked at Kellner’s article and found nothing that says this explicitly. However, I did find an interesting statement in Kellner’s article, and presumably this is what Sharki was referring to (although it still doesn’t say what Sharki claims it does):
אך לכוזרי, כמו לבה”ג, לא כל התרי”ג מצוות התגלו בסיני ההיסתורי, אם כי כולם דברי קבלה ממשה בסיני-הפנימי-נשמתי
This could be a very radical statement, depending on how it is interpreted. On the one hand, it could mean that some mitzvot in the Torah were actually established in a post-Mosaic era, but that is OK since these mitzvot arose from the spiritual wellsprings of Sinai. This is how Sharki must understand the passage. But I think it is obvious that Kellner doesn’t mean this at all, and the reference to the Halakhot Gedolot is the give-away. As is well known, the Halakhot Gedolot counts among the 613 commandments certain rabbinic laws. What the logic of this position is is not our concern at present. For our purposes what is important is that the Behag, and Kuzari, never say that  there are mitzvot in the Torah that are post-Mosaic, only that post-Mosaic mitzvot can be counted as part of the 613. There is an enormous difference between this understanding and the following, which is Sharki’s formulation:
לפי שיטת הכוזרי שגם הנביאים יכולים להוסיף או לגרוע בתורה, בניגוד לדעת הרמב”ם
David Halivni, Breaking the Tablets: Jewish Theology After the Shoah, p. 99 (called to my attention by Cemmie Green), states that according to R. Saadiah Gaon, “certain areas of the Law were originally more complete and more explicit in the Torah given by Moses to the people.” Here is the text he bases this statement on, found in Lewin’s introduction to Iggeret R. Sherira Gaon, p. X:
שבתורת משה אנו מוצאים הרבה ענינים הכתובים באריכות כמו למשל מעשה משכן, פרשת מלואים, פקודי ישראל וחנוכת המזבח. ובנגוד לזה כתובים בקצור נמרץ חוקי הזיבות, וחוקי עבור השנה נכללים רק במלת “אביב” גרידא, מה שהוא תמוה מאד אם לא נניח, שגם החוקים הללו היו כתובים באר היטיב אלא שאינם אצלינו בכתב אלא מסורים בעל פה.
It certainly does seem as if R. Saadiah is saying that some laws were removed from the Torah. Yet I also see how someone can argue that, contrary to Halivni, it does not say anything about these laws originally appearing in the Torah. It could be that he is only telling us that part of the “Oral Law” was written down in Moses’ day.
Assuming the latter explanation is what R. Saadiah means, there is good reason to assume that he was not being frank here. At a lecture at the University of Scranton, Prof. Daniel Lasker memorably stated that “all is fair in love and polemics.” If R. Saadiah issaying that part of the Oral Law was written down in Moses’ day, I believe he was twisting the truth as part of his battle with the Karaites. The Karaites were arguing that the Oral Law was not authentic, and R. Saadiah replied that not only was it authentic, but at least some of it was even written down in Moses’ day, thus precluding the sorts of errors that would arise from an oral tradition. R. Saadiah’s approach here would thus be no different than his claim that the calendar was the original way to determine the new moon, with sighting a later innovation. Already Maimonides declared that R. Saadiah did not really believe this, but found it useful to argue this way in the midst of a polemic against the Karaites.[4]
R. Yuval Sherlo was recently asked if it is acceptable to posit post-Mosaic authorship of passages of the Torah, following in the paths of R. Judah he-Hasid and Ibn Ezra.[5] Rather than reject the latter viewpoint, he claims that it is important to stress the ikkar ha-ikkarim, namely, that the authority of the Torah does not depend on who wrote it. What is crucial is that it was given by God. Even if there are verses that were written by someone else other than Moses, as was held by R. Judah he-Hasid and Ibn Ezra, this is not heresy, unless one assumes that these portions were not written through Divine Inspiration. Sherlo himself acknowledges that there is a good deal of evidence apparently pointing to the fact that some verses are post-Mosaic.
ישנם סימנים רבים בתורה שלכאורה מעידים על כך שחלק מפסוקי התורה נכתבו לאחר משה רבינו
 He concludes:
על כן, בשעה שמאמינים במוצא העליון המוחלט של כל פסוקי התורה אין איסור להרחיב את מה שאמרו חכמינו על הפסוקים האחרונים בתורה לעוד מקומות בתורה, בשל העיקרון הבסיסי הקיים בדברים אלה – התורה היא מוצא “פיו” המוחלט של ריבונו של עולם.
Needless to say, this is in direct contradiction to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle, and is an opening for Higher Biblical Criticism to enter the Orthodox world. For those who don’t read Hebrew, what Sherlo is saying is that Mosaic authorship does not matter, as long as one accepts that the Torah is divine. This is a huge theological step (a “game changer”), which for those who accept it entirely alters the playing field. This is such a break with the standard Orthodox view that I don’t know why Sherlo’s position has not received any publicity. Let me say it again, in case people haven’t been paying close attention: Sherlo’s argument permits Higher Criticism, as long as one asserts that the entire Torah is divinely inspired.
Sherlo is not some fringe figure. He is Rosh Yeshiva of the Hesder Yeshiva in Petah Tikva and a major personality in religious Zionism. (In the next installment of this series I will present further evidence that in some parts of the Modern Orthodox world the old taboo against Higher Criticism has begun to fade.)
Not surprisingly, Sherlo’s position was challenged by some commenters and he in turn defended what he wrote. Interestingly, one of the commenters writes about Ezra editing the Torah, and Sherlo does not reject this. Instead, he asserts that whoever arranged the Torah did it with prophecy that was the equal of Moses’ prophecy.
מי שסידר את התורה אף הוא עשה זאת בנבואה [!] התורה ולא בנבואה שהיא פחות מנבואת משה רבינו
In other words, Sherlo has adopted Rosenzweig’s point that “R”, instead of standing for “Redactor”, really means “Rabbenu.”[6]
When this formulation was challenged, since how could there be prophets of the level of Moses as this would contradict the Seventh Principle, Sherlo was unperturbed.
[שאלה] מה פירוש נביא שסדר את התורה עשה זאת בנבואת משה רבינו. האם היו עוד נביאים כמשה? הלא מעיקרי הדת שלא היו.
[תשובה] לפי הרמב“ם אלו עיקרי הדת. ברם, אפילו אמוראים סברו אחרת לגבי הפסוקים האחרונים בתורה
In other words, since there are amoraim who disagree with Maimonides’ Principle, it is not binding.[7]
In speaking of the Torah, Sherlo uses this provocative formulation (emphasis added):
ניסוח התורה הוא ניסוח שאנו מתייחסים אליו כולו כאילו כולו יצא מרבונו של עולם בדרגת “תורה” ולא בדרגה נמוכה ממנה.
One of the commenters asks as follows (and both of the possibilities he suggests are far from traditional):
הרב כותב כי “ניסוח התורה הוא ניסוח שאנו מתייחסים אליו כולו כאילו כולו יצא מריבונו של עולם”. האם זהו רק יחס שלנו, והיינו שיש לכתוב סמכות של תורה, או שבאמת אלוקים דיבר וסיעתו של עזרא כתבה?
Sherlo replies that he simply does not know, and that we don’t know what the Torah looked like in the years after it was given (until the days when the Torah she-ba’al peh was written down, and quotations of the Torah are found there). In other words, it might be significantly different than the Torah we have today:
אנחנו לא יודעים. יש חור שחור בתולדות מסירת התורה, כי אין לנו בדיוק מושג מה היה באלף השנים שבין מתן תורה לבין כתיבת התורה שבעל פה. לכן התנסחתי בנוסח זה.
In a previous post I already called attention to a comment by the great R. Solomon David Sassoon, who wrote as follows (Natan Hokhmah li-Shelomo, p. 106 [emphasis in original; I learnt of this passage from  R. Moshe Shamah]):

אבל אם יאמר פסוקים אלה נביא אחר כתב אותם מפי הגבורה ומודה שקטע זה הוא מן השמים ומפי הגבורה, אדם שאומר כך אינו נקרא אפיקורוס, מה שהגדיר אותו כאפיקורוס אינו זה שאמר שלא משה כתב את הקטע אלא בזה שהוא אומר שדבר שזה מדעתו ומפי עצמו אמרו ושאין זה מן השמים

This too can provide a religious justification for Biblical Criticism.

Let me make one more comment relating to Biblical Criticism. (There is, of course, more to say, but this can wait until the next installment.) Those who have read my posts know that I find it very interesting when Orthodox figures attack a position as foolish or heretical not knowing that this very position was stated by a great sage. If one was dealing with a detached academic, obviously heresy wouldn’t be a concern. And as for regarding a position as foolish, even if it is pointed out to the detached academic that, for example, Aristotle held this view, he would not retract from his statement that the position he criticized was foolish. It would just be an example where the great Aristotle adopted a foolish position. But in the Torah world, this sort of attitude is improper, so people are in a bind when they learn that the position they thought was foolish was actually held by a great sage.[8] In many cases I assume the people cannot change the way they think. They still think the position is foolish, but they can’t say this publicly anymore. Let me given an example of this relating to Biblical Criticism.

As is well-known, one of the arguments of early Biblical Criticism was that the “Book of the Law”, found by Hilkiah and given to Josiah (see 2 Kings 22 and 2 Chronicles 34), was actually the book of Deuteronomy, which the Critics assume to be the latest of the books of the Pentateuch.[9] They regard it as a pseudepigraphical document, attributed to Moses. In other words, it was a pious fraud created to provide the basis for Josiah’s reform. Readers can correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think that this theory has many advocates in recent scholarship. In any event, what concerns me here is that when rabbis and polemicists argue against Biblical Criticism, they often tear part the claim that Deuteronomy is the subject of the Josiah story. One can find lectures online where the speaker will mention this notion, and then reject it with great contempt. The attitude expressed is that anyone with any understanding of the Torah, or even of simple peshat of the relevant verses, would realize that Josiah story must be dealing with a complete Torah, not one book of the Pentateuch. Some go so far as to make it seem that only an idiot could conclude that Josiah is dealing with the book of Deuteronomy. For a traditionalist, this would appear to make perfect sense, since who ever heard of dividing the Torah into separate scrolls?[10]         
Yet if the people arguing so strongly against the Josiah-Deuteronomy connection would look at the version of the story in 2 Chron. 34, they would find something that would shock them. While verses 14 and 15 speak of finding ספר תורת ה’ ביד משה  and ספר התורה, the commentary attributed to Rashi understands this to mean משנה תורה, i.e., the book of Deuteronomy! In other words, the position of the Bible Critics as to which book was “found”,[11] and the position attacked so mercilessly by the opponents of the Biblical Critics, is in fact held by a rishon! I am not saying that this rishon is a proto-Biblical Critic, or that he denies the Mosaic authorship of Deuteronomy. But he does say that the book found, and which was read to Josiah and so affected him, was not the Torah itself, but only the book of Deuteronomy. I grant that this is an unusual position, but now that we have seen what this rishon holds, does this mean that this viewpoint now has to be treated with more respect, as opposed to the current treatment it gets at the hands of Orthodox polemicists?[12]
This notion, that the book Hilkiah found was Deuteronomy, is also advocated by R. Elijah Benamozegh. [13] Benamozegh states that if this viewpoint is correct, it means that from early on there was a practice to write the book of Deuteronomy separately from the rest of the Pentateuch. He also cites a rabbinic view that the Torah that the king carried was only the book of Deuteronomy.[14] Based upon this, he explains why the book found was brought to the king, since it was precisely this book that the king was obligated to write and carry with himself. Benamozegh concludes:
סוף דבר קרוב ונראה שהיו מעתיקים ס’ מ”ת בפ”ע כמו שנוכיח להבא בע”ה כי ספר תורת משה נכתבה בימי קדם חלקים ונתחים כל א’ בפ”ע, ובראש כל אתוון מה שהעידו רבותינו באומרם: תורה מגלה מגלה נתנה
2. Since in the previous section I referred to Ibn Ezra’s view on post-Mosaic additions to the Torah, let me say a little bit more about this. At the beginning of his commentary to Deuteronomy chapter 34, Ibn Ezra states that the last twelve verses of the Pentateuch were written by Joshua. The Talmud only offers this possibility concerning the last eight verses. The Kol Bo, Seder Tefillat ha-Moadot (ed. Avraham [Jerusalem, 1992), vol. 3, p. 220) writes:
ושמנה פסוקים אשר בזאת הברכה שהם מויעל משה עד ויהושע בן נון, יחיד קורא אותם.
The problem with this formulation is that there are twelve verses from ויעל משה (Deut. 34:1), not eight. I presume that instead of ויעל משה  the text should read וימת משה (Deut. 34:5), which is the eighth verse from the end and what the Talmud refers to. It is also possible that instead of stating “eight verses” it should read “twelve verses,” and the Kol Bo would then be agreeing with Ibn Ezra.[15]
In The Limits of Orthodox Theology I referred to Avat Nefesh, an anonymous medieval commentary on Ibn Ezra, as one of those who understood the latter as positing post-Mosaic additions. I had access to the Genesis portion of the commentary which appeared in William Gartig’s 1994 Hebrew Union College doctoral dissertation. A typescript of the complete commentary is now available on Otzar ha-Hokhmah, and this typescript pre-dates 1994. (In the preface to the typescript, the transcriber presents evidence that the author is R. Yedayah ha-Penini [ca. 1270-1340].)[16] In his commentary to Gen. 12:6, Avat Nefesh states that according to Ibn Ezra “many verses” in the Torah were only added after Moses’ death. He also notes that this is the focus of most of Ibn Ezra’s “secrets”.
כי כונתו שזה לא כתב משה אך נכתב אחר שנכבשה הארץ וכן דעתו בהרבה פסוקים ורוב סודותיו סובבים בזה כאשר אמר בראש אלה הדברים.
With the complete commentary we can also see what he says in Deut. 1:1. Here again he explains Ibn Ezra’s secret to be referring to post-Mosaic verses. Yet he also expresses his disagreement with Ibn Ezra and defends Mosaic authorship, although it is not clear if he is disagreeing in general or only with regard to the example he is discussing, where he explains why the expression בעבר הירדן is not an anachronism.
The principle by which Ibn Ezra determined that certain verses are post-Mosaic is if they contain what he regarded as clear anachronisms. All of the examples he gives in his commentary to Deut. 1:1 fall into this category. R. Joseph Bonfils famously argues that while Ibn Ezra acknowledged post-Mosaic additions of individual words and verses, which function as explanatory glosses, Ibn Ezra did not believe that there could be entire sections that are post-Mosaic. This is how Bonfils explains why Ibn Ezra, in his commentary to Gen. 36:31, responded so sharply to Yitzhaki’s suggestion that Gen. 36:31-39 is post-Mosaic:
וחלילה חלילה שהדבר עמו . . . וספרו ראוי להשרף
The problem with these verses is that they begin with the following: “And these are the kings that reigned in the land of Edom, before there reigned any king over the children of Israel.” Some viewed it is an anachronism to speak of the Israelite monarchy when still in the desert. As mentioned in The Limits of Orthodox Theology, R. Judah he-Hasid, R. Avigdor Katz, and according to one Tosafist collection also Rashbam identified these verses as post-Mosaic. As far as I can tell, there is no evidence to support Bonfil’s supposition that Ibn Ezra, for dogmatic reasons, denied that there could be post-Mosaic additions of entire sections. In the case of Gen. 36:31-39, there are internal reasons why Ibn Ezra would not see it as problematic, as he explains in his commentary.
Returning to Avat Nefesh, there is something else noteworthy in the commentary. He mentions that Ibn Ezra believes that “many verses” are post-Mosaic. Although Ibn Ezra himself doesn’t supply us with that many verses, once we assume that Ibn Ezra was guided by what he viewed as anachronisms in pointing to post-Mosaic additions, there is no reason to conclude that the examples he gives in his commentary to Deut. 1:1 exhaust the list. In support of Avat Nefesh’s point, let me mention the following: Ibn Ezra lists Gen. 12:6, “And the Canaanite was then in the land,” as one of the post-Mosaic additions. Understood according to their simple sense, these words can be seen as anachronistic as the Canaanites were still in the Land of Israel in the days of Moses. In other words, the words are written from the perspective of one living in a generation when there were no longer Canaanites in the Land of Israel. If these words are post-Mosaic, then the second half of Gen. 13:7 must also be post-Mosaic, as it says, “And the Canaanite and the Perizzite dwelt then in the land.” Just as Ibn Ezra didn’t feel it was necessary to spell out his view with regard to Gen. 13:7, so too, Avat Nefesh believes, there are other similar cases.
Avat Nefesh provides an example of this in his commentary to Num. 13:24, where he writes that according to Ibn Ezra (see his commentary, ibid.) at least some of what appears in this verse was written in the days of the Judges.
ר”ל שוירדוף עד דן נכתב לפי דעתו בימי השופטים שאז נקרא שם העיר דן כשם דן אביהם, כן כוונתו בנחל אשכול שנכתב אחרי כן בשמו שקראו הקורא
3. Let us now return to R. Shlomo Fisher, with whom we began this post. Despite coming from a very haredi background, he has close ties with the religious Zionist world. You can see many of his shiurim on www.yeshiva.org.il and here is his picture.
It is because of his ties with religious Zionists that R. Shach criticized him in conversation with R. Mordechai Elefant, late Rosh Yeshiva of the ITRI yeshiva, presumably as a way of pressuring R. Elefant to fire R. Fisher.

Here is how R. Elefant told the story, in his own words:

Rav Shlomo Fisher is a member of my faculty and one of the most brilliant talmudists of this generation. He was born and raised in the heart of Meah Shearim, but he has connections with religious Zionist institutions. I once came into Rav Shach, and he started calling Rav Shlomo a kalyekker [someone not firmly devoted to the purest Torah ideals]. I was annoyed, but I didn’t say anything. This happened a second time. I said to myself then, “If this happens again, I have to do something about it.” It happened again. So I went into Rav Shlomo’s room here in the yeshiva, and I took out a letter written by the Steipler in which he calls Rav Shlomo “pe’er ha-dor” (glory of the generation). Next time I went to Rav Shach, he said again that Rav Shlomo is a kalyekker. I said, “Rav Shach, listen to me. The Steipler is also a kalyekker.” He looked at me like I was crazy, but then I showed him the letter. I never heard any more complaints about Rav Shlomo. I told this to Rav Shlomo and it didn’t mean a thing to him. The only thing he cares about is understanding the Torah.
R. Elefant continued with the following story:
Then there was a time when a member of my own staff came to me with similar objections. He wanted me to get rid of Rav Shlomo. He quotes Bialik, Nietzsche, and all sorts of other things that are generally unacceptable in yeshivot.[17] I told him, “You’re right, but I’ve got one problem. You and me, we can teach these boys here how to understand Talmud. But there’s a lot more to education than that. Who’s going to teach these kids about purity, humility, and integrity? You? Me? That’s what we need Rav Shlomo for.” The guy chuckled and agreed with me.
I have previously mentioned that R. Fisher is, to my knowledge, the only gadol be-Yisrael who is also an expert in medieval Jewish philosophy. Many are disappointed that he does not take a public profile and express his views on issues of the day. If you are part of the group that studies with him every week, then you are fortunate to hear his views (which sometimes filter out). But what about the rest of the world?
A couple more stories R. Elefant told of his relationship with R. Shach are worth repeating. The two of them were close friends for decades, from before the time when R. Shach was recognized as the leader of the Lithuanian Torah world. That is why R. Elefant was able to speak to him in a way that others would never have dared.
Once R. Elefant was in Bnei Brak to give a shiur, and he went to visit R. Shach.
I went into Rav Shach’s room. He greeted me and asked what my lecture was about. I said, “Rav Shach, let’s be frank with each other. You don’t want to know what I lectured about, and I don’t want to know what you lectured about. I came here because you want to shoot the breeze.” His laugh was worth a million bucks to me.

The other story relates to a conflict between R. Shach and R. Yehudah Zev Segal of Manchester. R. Shach was upset with R. Segal because the latter didn’t accept R. Shach’s views which were creating great conflict between the yeshiva world and the hasidim.

Rav Shach heard that I was a friend of Rabbi Segal’s, so he told me he wanted to talk with me about him next time I was in Bnei Brak. It wasn’t too long before I was there, and Rav Shach asked me what I knew about Rabbi Segal. I told him, “I’ll tell you the truth. Rav Shach, you are the most powerful man in this world. You build governments, you break governments. What you say goes. People say about you “kocho ug’vuraso molei olam.” But Rabbi Segal is different. His opinion counts over there in the other world.Rav Shach’s attendants were dumbstruck. They couldn’t believe I had the nerve to say that to his face. But I didn’t meant to insult Rav Shach and he wasn’t fazed. He asked, “Do you really mean that?” I said I did, and after that he left Rabbi Segal alone.
Here is some of what R. Elefant said about Saul Lieberman.

When Lieberman came to Israel, the Brisker Rav acted like he was his best friend. They asked him why, and he had a one-word explanation, “mishpochoh.” They were cousins.

One of the Rav’s sons, I think it was Meir, got engaged to a girl from a family called Benedikt. I was invited to the engagement party. The Brisker Rav was sitting next to Saul Lieberman. I saw it. On Lieberman’s other side was the Mir Rosh Yeshiva, Reb Leizer Yehudah Finkel. That time Lieberman was persona non grata.
Here is another story from R. Elefant.
Lieberman was good friends with Rav Hutner. They were both students of Rav Kook, and they palled around in New York back in the fifties. They both used to go to the 42nd Street Library because there were lots of seforim there. Rav Hutner had a beard as black as coal back then. He wore a short jacket. Lieberman was once standing there in the library and who should come in but his friend, Rav Hutner. Lieberman says in Yiddish, “Here comes God’s dog.” Rav Hutner retorted, “Better to be a dog of God than to be a god to dogs.” Rav Hutner told me that one himself.
4. In a recent post on his blog, R. Daniel Eidensohn refers to my comment in this post where I suggested that the lenient attitude towards pedophilia in much of right wing Orthodoxy is due to the fact that the real trauma of sexual abuse is not something that one can learn about in traditional Jewish sources but comes to us from psychology, and as such is suspect in those circles that see psychology as a “non-Jewish” discipline. Let me offer another example that illustrates how today we take sexual abuse much more seriously than in previous years. Here is a responsum no. 378 from R. Joseph Hayyim’s Torah li-Shemah.

As you can see, the sexual abuse of a child under nine years old was not regarded by him as an earth-shattering violation (certainly not at the level of violating Shabbat or eating non-kosher food). While we regard child sexual abuse as one of the worst things imaginable, it is easy to see how someone whose only exposure to these matters would have been through traditional sources would not see it as such a terrible offense, namely, an offense that would require one turn the person into the police. In another responsum, Torah li-Shemah no. 441, R. Joseph Hayyim writes as follows regarding one who has sex with a child under nine years old:
והרי זה הבועל כמי שמשחית זרעו ע”ג עצם ואבנים
In other words, he sees this as an issue of wasting seed, without any cognizance of the terrible damage done to the child.[18] Responsa like this are important in showing how, with increased knowledge, attitudes have changed. What our generation regards as the most vile behavior was often seen in a very different light in previous generations. This is the only limud zekhut for those who in past years did not take sexual abuse seriously.
R. Ysoscher Katz also called my attention to a relevant discussion on a Yiddish site. See here. One of the matters discussed is a responsum of R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach, Havot Yair no. 108.

I think any modern person reading it will be surprised to see that there is no emotion shown, no reflection on the difficult circumstances of the girl. Everything is examined from a halakhic standpoint. But this again shows how differently we approach these sorts of matters than was the case years ago.
If sexual abuse is treated just like another sexual transgression, then the lenient approach some rabbis have adopted towards it makes sense. After all, shouldn’t a rabbi want to give a sinner the opportunity to repent? Sexual sins have always been regarded differently than kashrut or Shabbat violations. If a rebbe was seen eating a hamburger in McDonalds or driving on Shabbat he would immediately be fired, without any opportunity to repent. But more leeway is given when it comes to sexual sins, the reason being, no doubt, that everyone understands the power of the evil inclination in this area. A good illustration of my point is seen in R. Aaron Walkin, Zekan Aharon, vol. 2, no. 30.

The responsum deals with a shochet who was seen entering the home of a “loose” woman. R. Zalman Sorotzkin didn’t know what do about it and wrote to R. Walkin. R. Walkin refuses to disqualify the shochet, and tells R. Sorotzkin that even if there were two witnesses testifying to the matter it would not change his mind, since this would only turn the shochet into a mumar le-davar ehad! It is true that not all rabbis would have been as lenient as R. Walkin,[19] but the fact that this great posek ruled the way he did is quite significant.[20]

Finally, I am curious to hear what some of the lawyers reading this post have to say about the following: Some time ago, I was contacted by a man who wanted to talk to me about being an expert witness for the defense in the appeal of a sexual abuse conviction. The case is actually one of the worst we have seen. I was told that my role would only be to answer questions about sexual mores in the hasidic world, in particular, how they understand tzeniut. While I am far from an expert on this, not being from that world, the defense team wanted an academic on the stand. (Needless to say, there are academics who would also be much better choices than me.) .

Nothing came of this discussion, and I myself decided that I would have nothing to do with the case after learning the particulars, which are indeed sickening. My question is as follows: We know that defense lawyers are not personally tainted even if they represent horrible people. We recognize that this is their job. My sense is that people would not give the same leeway to an expert witness, and he would be viewed very negatively, as one who was helping to free a sexual abuser. Yet I would like to get some feedback from the lawyers. If I would have agreed to be called to the stand to answer general questions about halakhah and tzeniut, does the fact that I was part of the defense team’s strategy mean that I would be “helping” the defense? It was made clear to me that my role would be to simply to answer general questions and I would have nothing to do with the defendant per se. Another way of framing the question is, would it have been immoral for me to agree to this role if, after having examined the evidence, I was convinced that the defendant committed terrible crimes and  should remain in jail?  

5. For the runoff quiz I asked the following:

A. What is the first volume of responsa published in the lifetime of its author?
B. There is a verse in the book of Exodus which has a very strange vocalization of a word, found nowhere else in Tanach. (The word itself is also spelled in an unusual fashion, found only one other time in Tanach). The purpose of this vocalization is apparently in order to make a rhyme. What am I referring to?
Some got the answer to the first question, and others got the answer to the second question. But only one person, Peretz Mochkin, got the answers to both.
The answer to the first question is the responsa volume Binyamin Ze’ev (Venice, 1539), by R. Benjamin Ze’ev of Arta.
The answer to the second question is the word אתכה in Ex. 29:35. It is spelled and vocalized the way it is in order to rhyme with the word ככה that appears earlier in the sentence.
וְעָשִׂיתָ לְאַהֲרֹן וּלְבָנָיו, כָּכָה, כְּכֹל אֲשֶׁר-צִוִּיתִי, אֹתָכָה
One of the sources that refers to this text is Zev Grossman, Darkhei ha-Melitzah be-Sefer Tehillim. This is a very interesting book on aspects of grammar in Tanach. Here is the title page, with an approbation of sorts from William Chomsky. I don’t know of any other book that puts the approbation on the title page, and in this case the approbation is in English. (William Chomsky, incidentally, is the father of Noam Chomsky.)

One of the things Grossman points out in his book is that there are many examples of verses where we find words in non-grammatical forms in order that they rhyme. Here is just one example, from Psalms 5:8:
וַאֲנִי–בְּרֹב חַסְדְּךָ, אָבוֹא בֵיתֶךָ;    אֶשְׁתַּחֲוֶה אֶל-הֵיכַל-קָדְשְׁךָ, בְּיִרְאָתֶךָ
In context, the final word, ביראתך, means “in fear of you”, even though this is not grammatically correct. This form is used to make the rhyme, because if one were applying grammatical rules it would not be spelled this way.
At the end of the Hebrew section of the book, Grossman has a page listing his published books.

As you can see, he also produced a set of gedolim cards. When I was young, in the 1970s, there were gedolim cards. I know this because I collected them.[21] But I never imagined that they existed already in the early 1950s.
6. In my post of January 13, 2013, I wrote: “R. Meir Schiff (Maharam Schiff) is unique in believing that one without arms should put the tefillin shel yad on the head, together with the tefillin shel rosh. This is the upshot of his comment to Gittin 58a.” I saw this comment of Maharam Schiff many years ago, and unfortunately did not examine it carefully before adding this note. As R. Ezra Bick has correctly pointed out, Maharam Schiff is not speaking about wearing tefillin shel yad on the head to fulfill the mitzvah, but only stating that this is a respectful way to carry the tefillin shel yad if you have to remove it from your arm. This has no relevance to what I wrote about someone without arms (unless he has to carry the tefillin shel yad).

[1] In The Limits of Orthodox Theology I listed numerous rishonim and aharonim who understood Ibn Ezra’s hints to mean that there are post-Mosaic additions the Torah. I have added to this list in various blog posts, and we are now up to around thirty-five different sources. Yet until now I overlooked an important text, namely, a comment by Tosafot. See Tosafot ha-Shalem, ed. Gellis, to Gen. 12:6 (p. 14):
זהו אמרו ואם איננו כן יש לו סוד, כי כוונתו שזה לא כתבו משה אך נכתב אחר שנכבשה, וכן דעתו בהרבה פסוקים
Tosafot rejects this opinion, stating:
 ואנחנו לא ניאות בזה הדעת שכל התורה כתבה משה מפי ה’ בלא חילוק ושנוי.
It is significant that Tosafot does not refer to Ibn Ezra’s interpretation as heretical. For another source that assumes that Ibn Ezra believes that there are post-Mosaic additions in the Torah, see R. Aharon Friedman, Be-Har ha-Shem Yeraeh (Kerem be-Yavneh, 2009), p. 30.
[2] I am aware of no evidence that the rishonim in the Islamic world interpreted these passages in a fundamentally different way than the Ashkenazic rishonim. As noted in The Limits of Orthodox Theology, R. Joseph Ibn Migash openly accepted the viewpoint that Joshua wrote the last eight verses of the Torah.
[3] “Two Notes on the Commentary on the Torah of R. Yehudah he-Hasid,” in Michael A. Shmidman, ed. Turim (New York, 2008), pp. 245-246. In his just published The Intellectual History and Rabbinic Culture of Medieval Ashkenaz (Detroit, 2013), p. 32, Ephraim Kanarfogel writes: “The availability of this kind of interpretational freedom and variety also allowed Hasidei Ashkenaz to be comfortable with Ibn Ezra’s stipulation of verses that may have been added to the Torah after the revelation at Sinai.” 
[4] I deal with this in my forthcoming book, where the relevant citations will be found.
[5] See here
http://www.moreshet.co.il/web/shut/shut2.asp?id=68707
[6] Rosenzweig wrote: “We, however, take this R to stand not for Redactor but for rabbenu [our rabbi]. For whoever he was, and whatever text lay before him, he is our teacher, and his theology is our teaching.” See Dan Avnon, Martin Buber: The Hidden Dialogue (Lanham, 1998), p. 50.
[7] Sherlo’s answer is not clear. He was asked about the Seventh Principle, that Moses’ prophecy is superior to all others. Rather than replying to this, he answers that there were amoraim who did not think that Moses wrote the last verses of the Torah. This, however, relates to the Eighth Principle, not the Seventh. None of the amoraim who thought that Joshua wrote the last verses assumed that he was on Moses’ prophetic level, so Sherlo’s answer is really a non-sequitur.
[8] In recent years I have seen many examples of this. Some extreme statement or ban is attributed to a haredi gadol, and commenters on haredi news sites declare that Gadol X could never have made such a hurtful and counterproductive statement. These commenters argue that it must be the “askanim” who are responsible for this. (I specifically remember such arguments in the first few days after the ban on Making of a Godol was announced.) When a few days later it becomes clear that the statement is accurate, and was indeed made by the gadol, what then are these people to do, people who just a few days prior were so adamant in rejecting the position? 

People convincing themselves that their leaders could not really mean what they say is obviously not merely a haredi issue. Here is what Paul Veyne writes: “Under France’s Old Regime, people believed and wanted to believe in the king’s kindness and that the entire problem was the fault of his ministers. If this were not the case, all was lost, since one could not hope to expel the king the way one could remove a mere minister.” See Did the Greeks Believe in Their Myths (Chicago, 1988), p. 91.

[9] Regarding the Sefer Torah found by Hilkiah, R. Jacob Emden, Birat Migdal Oz (Zhitomir, 1874), p. 152a, claims that Josiah was unable to read the old Hebrew script in this Torah, and that is why it had to be read to him. For a rejection of this view, see R. Jacob Bachrach, Ha-Yahas la-Ketav Ashuri u-le-Toldotav (Warsaw, 1854), pp. 47-48.
[10] The division of the Pentateuch into different books is itself quite ancient. See R. Hayyim Hirschensohn, Seder la-Mikra (Jerusalem, 1933), vol. 1, p. 52.
[11] As mentioned already, the Bible Critics of whom I speak don’t really believe that it was “found”.
[12] There is another unusual tradition that appears in Yemenite texts according to which the entire Torah (and also the rest of the Bible) was forgotten by the Jews during the First Exile, and Ezra later reconstituted it from memory. See R. Saadiah ben David, Midrash ha-Beur, ed. Kafih, vol. 2, p. 676. See also here.
[13] Mavo le-Torah she-Baal Peh, ed. Zini (Jerusalem, 2002), pp. 25-26.
[14] See also Bezalel Naor, The Limit of Intellectual Freedom (Spring Valley, 2011), pp. 77, 253. In Deut. 17:18 it says about the king: וְהָיָה כְשִׁבְתּוֹ, עַל כִּסֵּא מַמְלַכְתּוֹ–וְכָתַב לוֹ אֶת-מִשְׁנֵה הַתּוֹרָה הַזֹּאת
For a rejection of the view that the words “Mishneh Torah” refer to Deuteronomy, see Bachrach, Ha-Yahas la-Ketav Ashuri u-le-Toldotav, p. 70.
I have often heard the notion expressed, in line with Ibn Ezra to Deut. 4:14, Nahmanides to Lev. 8:38 and in his introduction toDeuteronomy, and Abarbanel in his introduction to Deuteronomy, that all of the mitzvot were given at Sinai or soon after. I don’t think this is the simple meaning of the Torah. After all, there are loads of mitzvot in the book of Deuteronomy, and this was years after the revelation at Sinai. Apparently, Nahmanides’ viewpoint was motivated by his dogmatic assumption. R. Bahya ben Asher, Commentary to Gen. 24:22, and Radbaz did not share Nahmanides’ outlook, with Radbaz writing: ודברי [הרמב”ן] תימה הם בעיני. See She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Radbaz, no. 2143. Radbaz has a very provocative formulation in this responsum, and I am not sure what to make of it.
אין הכי נמי שצוה במצוות רבות בערבות מואב וכמה מצוות מצינו שאמרן משה לישראל ולא נאמר בהם צו את בני ישראל או דבר אל בני ישראל אלא משה יושב ודורש והכל יודעין שהכל מפי הגבורה
The words משה יושב ודורש are found in Bava Batra 119b where it means that Moses was expounding on a certain biblical law. As these words are used here, however, they appear to mean that Moses generated new mitzvot by means his יושב ודורש. This is not the same as God directly informing Moses of these new commandments, and I don’t know any earlier source that portrays mitzvot as originating in this fashion. It is also contradicted by how Maimonides describes the revelation of the Torah in his Eighth Principle.
               
Yet I am not certain about this, since the passage immediately following the one quoted above seems to offer a different perspective: 
וכל המצוות המחודשות אשר במשנה תורה הקב”ה אמר למשה בערבות מואב ומשה אמרן לישראל בכלל שבאר להם המצוות אשר כבר נאמרו וכל מה שנתחדש בהם מפי הקב”ה הוא ומשה לא דרש דבר מדעתו.
[15] See R. Eliah Shapiro, Eliah Rabbah 669:17.
[16] Avat Nefesh is discussed here.
[17] One student told me that he would often cite Kierkegaard.
[18] Both of these responsa, and others as well, are analyzed by Dr. Yitzhak Hershkowitz in a forthcoming article. I thank him for sharing his article with me prior to publication.
[19] For more stringent rulings, see R. Yekutiel Yehudah Greenwald, Ha-Shohet ve-ha-Shehitah ve-Sifrut ha-Rabbanut (New York, 1955), pp. 86ff.
[20] In Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, p. 211 n. 172, I refer to R. Walkin as R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg’s “short lived successor to the rabbinate of Pilwishki.” Some have wondered how I know this information, and indeed there is nothing about this in Eliezer Katzman’s articles on R. Walkin in Yeshurun vols. 11 and 12. That R. Walkin was rav of Pilwishki is found in R. Weinberg’s article about the town in Kitvei R. Weinberg, vol. 2, p. 390. In a letter to R. Kook, R. Walkin asks his advice on whether he should accept the rabbinate of Pilwishki. See Iggerot la-Reiyah (Jerusalem, 1990), no. 151. The date given in R. Walkin’s letter to R. Kook is Heshvan 5684 (1923), but this can’t be correct, as by this time R. Walkin was the rav of Pinsk. The original must say תרפ”ב not  תרפ”ג.
[21] A few readers might remember my bar mitzvah party, where some of these gedolim pictures were turned into posters. Also, smaller blow-ups were placed on each table as the table identifier. While most of the posters were thrown out, I saved one. When I attended JEC in Elizabeth for high school, I brought in the poster made from this picture of R. Elchanan Wasserman, and hung it on my classroom wall..

Everyone in the class thought this was very nice. One day I came to school and the poster was gone. Someone told me that R. Pinchas Teitz had taken it down. I couldn’t for the life of me understand why he would do that. I didn’t know then what I know now, about how many people strongly opposed R. Elchanan’s viewpoints (e.g., R. Zvi Yehudah Kook wouldn’t allow R. Elchanan’s Kovetz Ma’amarim in Merkaz ha-Rav’s library. See Hilah Wolberstein, Mashmia Yeshuah [Or Etzion, 2010], pp. 192-193, 404). But even if I knew that, this would not have been a reason for R. Teitz to take down the poster. I went to see him, first to get my poster back, and also to understand why he took it down. He explained that since we had a minyan in the classroom, it was improper to have a picture of a man on the wall, even if this man was R. Elchanan.