The Porto family: Eminent Sages, Scholars, and Prolific Seventeenth Century Authors

The Porto family: Eminent Sages, Scholars, and Prolific Seventeenth Century Authors

by Marvin J. Heller[1]

Among the illustrious families that have contributed to and enriched Jewish culture and history is the Porto (Rapa) family, comprised of sages and authors over the centuries. Known for their scholarship and valuable works, they also served in rabbinic positions in various locations. Originally from Lublin, the family came to Italy via Germany, settling in Porto in the vicinity of Verona. The family name Rapa stems from the German (Rappe in Middle High German), for raven. Rappoport is a combination of the Rapa, with Porto, done to distinguish this branch of the family from other Rapa branches. The Italian branch, our subject, providing eminent rabbis who authored distinguished works and served in the rabbinate in several cities in Italy.[2]

This article addresses the lives and works of several eminent members of the Porto family in the seventeenth century, describing a number of their diverse works. Entries are arranged chronologically.[3] A small number of Porto (Rapa) titles precede the works addressed in this article, also printed elsewhere. Among them are Kol Simhah (Prostitz, 1602) by R. Simhah ben Gershon Kohen, of Porto Rapa, on Shabbat zemirot; several editions of the Yalkut Shimonei with marginal annotations attributed to R. Menahem ha-Kohen Porto (Venice, 1566, Cracow, 1595-96, and Frankfort on the Main, 1687).[4] R. Abraham Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport)’s works, that is, the Minhah Belulah and Zafenat Pane’ah, are, as noted elsewhere, not addressed in this article, as having been described independently.

1608 Moses ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto-Rafa (Rapaport) – Our first Porto family publication is a compilation of responsa by R. Moses ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto-Rafa (Rapaport, d. 1624) concerning the prohibition by rabbis of the use of the mikveh in Rovigo. Moses ben Jehiel served from 1602 as rabbi of Badia Polesine in Piedmont, and afterwards as rabbi of Rovigo.

The dispute, a cause célèbre, concerned a mikveh built in 1594 by R. Jekuthiel Consiglio, then rabbi in Rovigo, in his home. Unable to obtain spring water, Consiglio dug a well and drew water with a pail, a halakhicly invalid procedure, as a mikveh requires free-flowing not drawn water. To resolve the problem, Consiglio used a pail with holes large enough to negate its status as a vessel. The mikveh’s validity depended upon whether the water passing through the bucket with holes was considered either drawn or pumped, thereby invalidating the mikveh.

After ten years possession of the house passed to R. Avtaylon Consiglio, Jekuthiel Consiglio’s older brother.[5] Among the first to invalidate the mikveh Avtaylon Consiglio, who upon studying the matter, found his brother’s position too lenient, the holes in the pail being too small to justify the leniency. Jekuthiel, however, found support for the halakhic appropriateness of his mikveh from several prominent rabbis from Venice. The dispute was widespread, in Italy prominent rabbis, such as R. Ezra of Fano, R. Moses Menachem Rapo, and R. Moses Cohen Porto, as well as R. Moses Mordecai Margalioth of Cracow responded. The dispute even extended to Prague and Safed, Eretz Israel, the respondent in the latter location there including R. Israel Galante in Safed.[6]

1608, Palgei Mayyim
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Three books are devoted to the subject of the Rovigo mikveh, namely Miḳveh Yisrael (Venice, 1607) by R. Judah ben Moses Saltero of Fano, Palgei Mayim (1608) by R. Moses ben Jehiel, both opposed to the mikveh, and Mashbit Milḥamot (Venice, 1606) by R. Isaac Gershon, this last in support of Jekuthiel Consiglio and his mikveh.

The title of interest to us is Moses ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto-Rafa (Rapaport)’s Palgei Mayim. It was, in manuscript, initially entitled Milhamot ha-Shem but was renamed. Palgei Mayim was published by Zoan (Giovanni) di Gara in quarto format (40: 78,[38\, [2] ff.) in the month of Shevat שסח (368 = January-February 1608). The title-page, which has a pillared frame, informs that it is responsa from rabbis from both Italy and elsewhere. The title-page is followed by Moses ben Jehiel’s introduction in which he informs that he has entitled this work Palgei Mayim (“rivers of water,” var. cit.) for a river of knowledge of Torah goes out of Eden. Moses ben Jehiel’s purpose in writing Palgei Mayim was to”

To defend the sage who prohibits [the mikveh] and all of us who agree with him, for this is our sole intention: to divert slanderous remarks from him, and if we do not succeed in getting people to stay away from the mikveh as we wished to do, what matter? At least we will have saved our souls.

Next is a lengthy forward preceded by a head-piece with several figurines which reappears towards the end of the book as a tail-piece (below). The text begins with a responsum from Avtalyon Consiglio, followed by a responsum from R. Ben Zion Zarfati, continuing with additional responsa.


Palgei Mayim is a compilation of the responsa of the rabbis who prohibited the use of the mikveh, quoting twenty-eight opinions in support of Porto’s position, followed by Mish’an Mayim, which is a refutation of the rejoinder of the opposition. As noted above, Porto originally intended to entitle Palgei Mayim Milhamot Ha-Shem (Wars of the Lord, Numbers 21:14) but, as he writes, reconsidered doing so to avoid creating a more combative environment. A collateral effect of this and other disputes at this time, which involved numerous rabbis, according to Robert Bonfil, was to weaken the authority of the rabbis involved.[7]

This is the only edition of Palgei Mayim, R. Moses ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto-Rafa‘s (Rapaport) only published work. (Seforim Blog editor’s note: Palgei Mayim and the other works mentioned about the Rovigo mikveh controversy was recently reprinted by Mechon Zichron Aron in their two-volume set Geonei Padua (2014).

1627 R. Menahem Zion (Emanuel) Porto Kohen Rappa – Our next member of the Porto (Rapaport) family, R. Menahem Zion (Emanuel) Porto Kohen Rappa was born in Trieste towards the end of the sixteenth century, serving there as chief rabbi, subsequently holding a similar position in Padua, where he died in about 1660. A multifaceted individual, Menahem Zion (Emanuel) Porto, a mathematician and astronomer, authored a variety of books encompassing several fields. His works on those subjects were highly regarded. Indeed, he was praised for his works by Italian scholars such as the mathematician and astrologer Andrea Argoli; and by Tomaso Ercaloni and Benedetto Luzzatto for his sonnets. Menahem Zion was recommended, in 1641, by Gaspard Scüppius, editor of the Mercurius Quadralinguis, to the renowned Protestant Christian-Hebraist Johannes Buxtorf (the younger), with whom Porto later carried on an active correspondence.[8]


1627, Over la-Soher,
Courtesy of Virtual Judaica

Over la-Soher, a treatise on mathematics, is Menahem Zion’s primary, best known Hebrew title. It was published in 1627 as a quarto (40: 22 ff.) at the press of Pietro, Aluise, and Lorenzo Bragadin. The title is from Abraham’s purchase of Machpelah from Ephron the Hittite, concluding, “money current among the merchants (over la-soher)” (Genesis 23:16). The title-page has a pillared frame and simply states that it is a sefer ha-mispar (book of numbers).

The verso of the title page has verse encouraging purchase of the book, beginning, “hasten to acquire Sefer ha-Mispar, look into it . . .,” followed by Porto’s introduction (2a-3a) in square letters, extolling the great benefit and practical value of the subject matter and mentioning predecessors, particularly R. Elijah Mizrahi’s (c. 1450–1526) Sefer ha-Mispar, a deep and difficult work. However, Porto, while being concise, has added to and made his book more accessible to the reader. Having dealt extensively with merchants, Menahem Zion has entitled this book Over la-Soher. Finally, Porto greatly praises his patron R. Abraham ben Mordecai Ottiniger. There is a second introduction (3a-b) from R. Gershom ben Kalonymous Hefez, a student of Porto, who was responsible for publishing Over la-Soher.

The text follows in a single column in rabbinic type. Over la-Soher is divided into twelve chapters, dealing with practical arithmetic, multiplication, divisions and fractions. Numerous examples are given in Hebrew rather than Arabic numerals. This is the only edition of Over la-Soher.

Porto’s Italian works include Porto Astronomico (Padua, 1636); Breve Istituzione della Geographia (Padua, 1636); and Diplomologia, Qua Duo Scripturæ Miracula de Regressu Solis Tempore Hiskiæ et Ejus Immobilitate Tempore Josuæ Declarantur (Padua, 1643) reportedly translated into Hebrew by Porto and into Latin by Lorenzo Dalnaki.[9] Diplomologia, Qua Duo Scripturæ is dedicated to the emperor Ferdinand III. Originally written in Italian, it was translated by the author himself into Hebrew, who then sent it to Lorenzo Dalnaki of Transylvania who translated it into Latin.

Porto Astronomico di Emanuel Porto Rabbi Hebreo di Trieste (Padua, 1636), [10] is dedicated to Count Benvenuto Petazzo. In contrast to the favorable comments noted above, Cecil Roth is dismissive of this work, writing “The Porto Astronomico . . . is unimportant save as a curiosity.” Concerning Menahem Zion’s other books, Roth includes them in the category of “popularizing works” which “were published and seem to have achieved a measure of success.”[11]

 

 

1636, Porto Astronomico
Courtesy of Google Books

1628 Abraham ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto – A scholar of distinction, R. Abraham ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto, was active at the beginning of the seventeenth century. He resided in Cremona and Mantua, and afterwards in Verona. He studied under relatives and appears to have served as rabbi in Verona. Abraham Porto was the author of several works, most notably Havvot Ya’ir, rabbinic epigrams as well as several other works, still extant in manuscript.

Havvot Ya’ir, an alphabetical collection of Hebrew words with their cabalistic explanations, was published in 1628 in Venice at the Bragadin press by Pietro, Aluise, and Lorenzo Bragadin in quarto format (40: 40 ff.). The title-page is dated in a straightforward manner, as שפח (388 = 1688), but the chronogram in verse at the end of the book provides a completion date of Rosh Hodesh Sivan [5]388 (Friday, June 2, 1628). The text is enclosed by a pillared architectural frame and states that it is an appetizer based on the sayings of our sages “‘His speech shall flow as the dew’ (cf. Deuteronomy 32:2) for from one word shall come forth, flourish, and shine many words for the honor of ‘the desirable of the young men” (cf. Ezekiel 23:6, 12, 23) such as R. Samuel Hayyim Bassan of Verona, a student of R. Samuel Meldola.”

There is a dedication to “the desirable of the young men,” R. Samuel Hayyim ben Mordecai Bassan of Verona (2a) which concludes with lines of verse. Abraham Menahem’s introduction follows, in which he gives two further reasons for entitling the book Havvot Ya’ir. Firstly, as the villages provide provision for the large cities (Megillah 2b) so this small work will much illuminate and enthuse great rabbis to remember and briefly speak the words of our sages. Also, as one that does not have children, so is his “soul abased and languishes, this is my generations before the Lord.”[12] Abraham Menahem writes that the book is called,

Havvot Ya’ir to enlighten להאיר and to inflame the hearts of choice students such as yourself (Bassan) in the way of our sages, as to why the Torah is called “Etz Hayyim (tree of life)”, (Proverbs 3:18, 11:30, 15:4), for as the small trees ignite the larger ones so too my friend, the young ignite and inflame the hearts of those who are older, “He will magnify the Torah, and make it glorious” (Isaiah 42:21).

1628, Havvot Ya’ir, Venice
Courtesy of Virtual Judaica

There is an approbation from R. Judah Aryeh (Leone) Modena, R. Simhah Luzatto, and R. Nehemiah ben Leib Sarival. The text, assembled from the beginnings of his speeches, follows in a single column in rabbinic type.

Example of entries, which are arranged alphabetically, are כ kaf: beginning karpas, yahaz כרפס יחץ, the initial letters are כי for “For כי, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and thick darkness the people, but the Lord shall arise upon you” (Isaiah 60:2). The Patriarchs are an omen for their offspring. Jacob “divided ויחץ the children” Genesis 33:1). צ Tzadi:צחק “God has made me laugh “ (Genesis 21:6), and according to R. Pollack, Sarah said that she trusts that her offspring will be Talmudic scholars who will be experts in צ zizit and the ties of tefillin. This is the only edition of Abraham ben Jehiel Porto’s Havvot Ya’ir.

Among Abraham ben Jehiel ha-Kohen Porto’s other works are Gat Rimmon, a book of verse; Shimmush Avraham, a commentary on the Torah (below); and Hasdei David on the Psalms, all unpublished. He also wrote responsa, several published in the responsa of his contemporaries. Abraham’s brother was R. Moses ben Jehiel Porto-Rafa (Rapoport, d. 1624), and our Abraham also edited and printed the Minḥah Belulah (Verona, 1594) of R. Abraham Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport), a kinsman.

Shimush Avraham
Courtesy of the Russian State Library

1675 Zechariah ben Ephraim Porto: – This Porto, a seventeenth century Italian scholar, was noted for his learning and still more for his other virtues. A native, resident of Urbino, R. Zechariah ben Ephraim Porto (d. 1672) also resided in Florence and Rome, where, in the latter location, he officiated as rabbi, although he modestly refused to assume that title. Zechariah ben Ephraim was also a philanthropist; in his will, Zechariah Porto, who was childless, left all of his wealth for communal bequests for Talmud Torahs, dowries, and support of communities in Eretz Israel. His extensive library was dedicated to the Talmud Torah in Rome.

Zechariah Porto was the author of Asaf ha-Mazkir, a work containing a list of all the explanations and comments found in the Ein Ya’aḳov, R. Jacob ben Solomon ibn Habib’s popular and much reprinted collection of the aggadic passages of the Talmud. Zechariah Porto would not publish his book; it was printed after his death by the Roman community (Venice, 1688; according to Zedner, 1675).[13]

The title-page of Asaf ha-Mazkir has images of Moses and Aaron on the sides, cherubim above holding the tablets with the ten commandments, and at the bottom additional imagery. It is dated with the chronogram “It is ‘Asaph the recorder (Asaf ha-Mazkir) אסף המזכיר’ הוא (435 = 1675)” (II Kings 18:18, 37; Isaiah 36: 3, 22). Asaf ha-Mazkir was printed at the Bragadin press by Domenico Vedelago in quarto format (40: [4], 400 ff.).

The title page of Asaf ha-Mazkir has the Bragadin frame with Moses and Aaron, and a brief text that simply states Porto’s name and that it is being published for the public good.[14] It is dated, “He is ‘Asaph the recorder’ אסף המזכיר הוא (435 = 1675)” (II Kings 18:18, 37, Isaiah 36:3, 22). The colophon dates conclusion of the work to Tuesday, 13 Adar, “relief and deliverance arise to the Jews from another place ממקום אחר (435 = March 11, 1675)” (Esther 4:14), which in fact was a Monday that year.


1675, Asaf ha-Mazkir
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The title page is followed by the introduction of the Talmud Torah, which praises Porto’s piety, charity, and many other fine qualities; verse, also praising Porto and his work, beginning, “The wage of the righteous” (Proverbs 10:16, 18:11); and the introduction of R. Moses ben Jacob Levi from Vienna, the editor. He writes in the same vein, but adds that he should not be held responsible for errors for work was done on Shabbat by gentiles which could not be corrected.[15] He too concludes with verse. Next is the Italian Noi Reformatori dello Studio di Padoa, dated 11. Marzo 1675 and signed Gio: Battista Nicolosi Segret.


1675, Asaf ha-Mazkir
Courtesy of the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad Ohel Yosef Yitzhak

The text of Asaf ha-Mazkir is set in two columns, headers and text from the Ein Ya’akov in square letters, sources in rabbinic type. Tractate names are in a decorative frame, chapters in bold letters. Entries consist of the statement in the Ein Ya’akov, followed by sources addressing those statements. An example of an entry is the last chapter of Kiddushin 82a,

One should always teach his son a clean and easy trade, etc.

Lehem Shelomo no. 366 109 f. amud a.

Tosfot Yom Tov ch. 4 195 f. amud b

This is the only independent edition of Asaf ha-Mazkir, Zechariah ben Ephraim Porto’s only published work. It was included in later editions of the Ein Ya’akov, beginning with the Amsterdam (1725-26) edition. As Eli Genauer noted, “It was included in later editions of the Ein Ya’akov, beginning with the Amsterdam (1725-26) edition.)  An example of something like this is Chochmas Shlomo which was printed a few times and then never again because it made it to the back of the Vilna Shas underneath the Maharsha. So even though it was only published independently three times, it was published dozens of times onward by being in the back of the Vilna Shas.”

1619 Allegro Porto – The most unusual entry in our collection of seventeenth century Porto imprints is Allegro Porto’s Nuevo Musiche, a collection of secular madrigals. This, our last Porto entry, is not in our chronological order, nor is it part of our description of the Hebrew works by members of the Porto family. It is included, however, assuming that Allegro Porto was a member of the extended Porto family, in order to show the great diversity and productivity, even outside of our subject area of Hebrew imprints, of the family’s accomplishments.

A madrigal is an elaborate multi-part song for several voices, without instrumental accompaniment. It is a genre popular in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Allegro Porto published Nuevo Musiche in 1619, followed by two collections of madrigals in 1622 and 1625, one lacking a title-page.[16] Shlomo Simonsohn credits Allegro (Simha) Porto with four collections of songs, but enumerates three only, all printed in Venice, Nuove Musiche, (1619), Madrigali a cinque voci (1625), and Madrigali a tre voci, libro primo (1619).[17]

Cecil Roth informs that although singers and instrumentalists were active elsewhere in Italy, it was in Mantua only that there was a “sequence of Jewish composers who published their works.” Among them was Allegro Porto whom Roth describes as prolific. His writings, according to Roth, also include four works, two collections of madrigals for five verses being published in 1625, one being dedicated to the Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand II, the daughter of the Duke of Mantua being his empress, Simonsohnn describes her, Eleanora Gonzaga, as the sister of the Dukes Francesco II, Ferdinando and Vincenzo II. Among Porto’s madrigals was a collection in the new style (Nuevo Musiche, 1619), this dedicated to Count Alfonso de Porzia, chamberlain to the Duke of Bavaria. Another collection of Porto’s madrigals, this for three voices “‘with some arias and a romanesque dialogue’ (the first part alone is recorded, but perhaps there were others), published first in 1619, was reissued in the nineteenth century.[18]

No image accompanies this entry, in comparison to the other book descriptions; it was not possible to find an image of Porto’s Nuevo Musiche. The reason is its great rarity, for as Roth explains “Musical publications of this age are prodigiously rare, many surviving in only a single copy – others perhaps were less fortunate, so that to state dogmatically that certain compositions were unpublished is hazardous.” He notes that in the famed musical collection of King João of Portugal, assembled in the late eighteenth century, destroyed in the Lisbon earthquake of 1755, were four works by Allegro Porto.

Finale: the Porto family in the seventeenth centuries: – The various branches and members of the Porto family in the seventeenth century provided the Jewish communities of Italy, and by extension, world Jewry, with several distinguished rabbis and authors, their diverse works encompassing Torah commentary, responsa, mathematics, astronomy, kabbalistic linguistics, Aggadah, and even musical compositions. Their books, despite their value, were, with exception, published once only, in single editions. Given that these works are viewed positively, it is unfortunate that they were not republished or are not better known. Perchance, the very diversity of these Porto publications, represent the eclectic views of Renaissance Italy. They are a rich contribution to Jewish literature, representing the contributions of the seventeenth Porto family to the Jewish society of that period and to our times as well.

[1] I would like to express my appreciation to Eli Genauer for reading the article and his several comments, in particular for his observation on the editions of Asaf ha-Mazkir.
[2] This is a companion article to a previous article on a single distinguished Porto, R. Abraham Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport) and his works, the Minhah Belulah and Zafenat Pane’ah. Concerning that article see Marvin J. Heller, “Abraham Menahem ben Jacob ha-Kohen Rapa mi-Porto (Rapaport) Ashkenazi: A Renaissance Rabbi of interest” Seforim.blogspot.com (March 17, 2021).
[3] Several of the background descriptions of Porto family are from Richard Gottheil, Isaac Broydé, and Ismar Elbogen, “Porto,” Jewish Encyclopedia X (1901-06), pp. 133-34 and Shimon Vanunu, Encyclopedia le-Hachmah Italia (Jerusalem, 2018), var. cit.
[4] The Yalkut Shimoni entries are from the book descriptions in the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad Ohel Yosef Yitzhak library catalogue.
[5] Shmuel Glick, Kuntress ha-Teshuvot he-Hadash: A Bibliographic Thesaurus of Responsa Literature published from ca. 1470-2000 (Jerusalem & Ramat Gan, 2006-07) II, pp. 839-40 no. 2982 [Hebrew].
[6] A. M. Habermann, Giovanni Di Gara: Printer, Venice 1564-1610. ed. Y. Yudlov (Jerusalem, 1982), pp. 123-25 no. 257 [Hebrew]; Carmilly-Weinberger, Censorship and Freedom of Expression in Jewish History, pp. 160-61; Avraham Yaari, Unknown Documents concerning the dispute in Rovigo,” Studies in Hebrew Booklore (Jerusalem, 1959), pp. 420-29 [Hebrew].
[7] Robert Bonfil, Rabbis and Jewish Communities in Renaissance Italy, translated by Jonathan Chipman (London, Washington, 1993), pp. 107-08.
[8] Gottheil, Broydé, Elbogen, op. cit.
[9] Giovanni Bernardo De Rossi,. Dictionary of Hebrew Authors (Dizionario Storico degli Autori Ebrei e delle Loro Opere), ed. Marvin J. Heller, (Lewiston, 1999), p. 157
[10] Cecil Roth, The Jews in the Renaissance (New York, 1959), pp. 235-36; Meyer Waxman, A History of Jewish Literature: From the Twelfth Century to the Middle of the Eighteenth Century II (New York, 1933, reprint 1960), p. 487.
[11] Cecil Roth, op cit, p. 236.
[12] Meir Benayahu, “The Caleon Press” Asufot XIII (Jerusalem, 2001), pp. 194-95 [Hebrew].
[13]  Ḥananel Nepi, Mordecai Samuel Ghirondi, Toledot Gedolei Yisrael (Trieste, 1853), p. 99 [Hebrew]; Joseph Zedner, Catalogue of the Hebrew books in the library of the British Museum (London, 1867), p. 788.
[14] Concerning the appearance of Moses and Aaron on the title-pages of Hebrew books see Dan Rabinowitz, “Aaron the Jewish Bishop,” ” Seforim.blogspot.com April 12, 2016).
[15] Concerning work done on Shabbat see Marvin J. Heller, “And the Work, the Work of Heaven, was Performed on Shabbat,” The Torah u-Maddah Journal 11 (New York, 2002-03), pp. 174-85, reprinted in Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book (Brill, Leiden/Boston, 2008), pp. 266-77.
[16] Willi Apel, Harvard Dictionary of Music (Cambridge, 1969), p. 446.
[17] Shlomo Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua (Jerusalem, 1977), p. 676.
[18] Cecil Roth, The Jews in the Renaissance (1959, reprint New York, 1965), pp. 286-87.



R. Isaac Arama, R. Kook, Mordecai Kaplan, and more

R. Isaac Arama, R. Kook, Mordecai Kaplan, and more
by Marc B. Shapiro
1. In the last post I discussed R. Isaac Arama. In his Conversos, Inquisition and the Expulsion of the Jews from Spain, p. 53, Norman Roth states that Arama was not a “great scholar.” If he means to say that Arama wasn’t a great talmudist (as has been stated about Ibn Ezra and Abarbanel), then perhaps he has a point (although I am sure this would be debated). But I don’t see how the title “great scholar” can be denied to Arama whose Akedat Yitzhak is a classic of Jewish literature and shows his vast knowledge.
Because the style of Akedat Yitzhak does not make it an easy read, many people avoid the work which is a shame as it is full of fascinating insights. One of his views that has often been quoted is that while it is true that individuals have free will, this is not the case for the Jewish people as a whole. It is built into the nature of the Jewish people that there can never be a time when the entire Jewish population rejects God.[1]
I think readers will also find it interesting that in discussing the role of women, he says that their second purpose (which he terms the lesser purpose – התכלית הקטן) is to have children.[2] However, the primary purpose of women is seen in the following quote, which I think is incredible when one considers how most medievals viewed women.
האחד מה שיורה עליו שם אשה כי מאיש לוקחה זאת וכמוהו תוכל להבין ולהשכיל בדברי שכל וחסידות כמו שעשו האמהות וכמה צדקניות ונביאות . . . ודאי עקר תולדותיהם של צדיקים מעשים טובים
How many contemporary Orthodox writers advocate the viewpoint that the primary purpose of women is to bear children, and that is where they find their fulfillment? Yet Arama rejects this completely. Arama’s understanding allows him to explain why Jacob was angered with Rachel when she said to him, “Give me children, or else I die.” (Gen. 30:1). Rachel didn’t realize that the main purpose of the righteous, and this also includes women, is good deeds. She mistakenly thought that her primary goal in life was to have children, and without that her life had no value. Jacob became angry since Rachel didn’t understand the basic point that the value of women is not simply dependent on how many children they can produce.[3]
It is well known that R. Meir Arama accused Abarbanel of plagiarizing from his father, R. Isaac. Abarbanel made heavy use of R. Abraham Bibago, and this also might be considered plagiarism (although much what we would regard as plagiarism today was not regarded as such in medieval times).[4] Abarbanel also used other writings without acknowledgment, such as R. Eleazar Ashkenazi ben Nathan ha-Bavli’s Tzafnat Paneah,[5] R. Nissim of Gerona’s Derashot,[6] and the medieval work Zekhut Adam.[7] R. Azariah de Rossi even accused Abarbanel of plagiarizing from Jerome.[8]
 מן הנראה כי גנוב הוא את החכם דון יצחק מדעת המעתיק לנוצרים בפרוש דניאל
In the introduction to his edition of Akedat Yitzhak, R. Hayyim Joseph Pollak mentions Abarbanel’s unacknowledged use of Arama’s work, and he is not sure what to make of it. In one case he refers to it as שגגה שיצא מלפני השליט. In general, he assumes that Abarbanel copied material from Arama for his own use, without intending to publish it. Yet by the time he published his own biblical commentaries he had forgotten that some sections of this work had come from Arama. Pollak also suggests, without any evidence whatsoever, that originally Abarbanel did mention Arama, yet these references were removed by others who had access to the manuscript. They did so in order to give greater glory to Abarbanel, so that he be given the credit for everything in the commentary.
השמיטו הם (או המעתיקים הבאים אחריהם) את שם בעל עקיד’ ז”ל מהמאמרים הלקוחים מאתו, בחשבם להרבות בזה כבוד הר”א ז”ל, אם יראו כל דברי ספרו כאילו הם ממנו לבד
Pollak’s defenses do not make much sense, and the best explanation is as mentioned, namely, that current standards of plagiarism are not like those found in medieval times.
Speaking of R. Isaac Arama, there are a number of references to him in the new edition of R. Raphael Berdugo’s commentary on the Torah, Mei Menuhot (I have mentioned R. Berdugo in a few prior posts). Here is the title page.

Here is page 918 of the commentary, where you can see that he quotes the Akedat Yitzhak who is criticizing Narboni.

On the top of the second column he refers to המדברים. The problem is that the editor doesn’t know what this term means (or for that matter, the word ההעברה),[9] and provides some fanciful explanation. However, just a little investigation would have revealed that the “Medabrim” are the Mutakallimun, that is, the followers of the Kalam. (Kalam means “word,” “conversation,” or “discourse”.) All one needs to do is open Ibn Tibbon’s translation of the Guide, and you will find lots of references to them. There is also a reference to them in Ibn Tibbon’s translation of Shemonah Perakim, ch. 6. 
The following appears in Guide 1:73 (Ibn Tibbon translation):
ההקדמה העשירית הוא זאת ההעברה אשר יזכרהו וזהו עמוד חכמת המדברים

The problem I am focusing on is not just that the editor did not recognize the term המדברים. It is that he should have been able to see that this was something he didn’t know, which in turn would lead him to investigate. This is a common problem, namely, it is not just that people don’t know, but that they don’t know that they don’t know.[10] What we should be able to expect, however, is that when an editor sees a term or expression that he doesn’t recognize, rather than engage in fanciful speculation he should actually consult with someone who might be able to understand the text.

Let me give another example of what I am referring to from the haredi world. This should not be taken as a general criticism of haredi editors. On the contrary, most of the best editions of rabbinic texts are edited by haredi scholars. They are experts in what they do and we all benefit. They, more than anyone else, are embarrassed when amateurs try to edit texts with all the errors they bring. (In a future post I will bring examples of mistakes by academic scholars in texts they edited, errors that could have been avoided had they consulted with real talmidei hakhamim.)

A few years ago a new edition of Maimonides’ ethical will, with an extensive commentary, was published. Here is a page from the work.

The only problem is that this supposed ethical will is a forgery, a fact recognized by R. Jacob Emden.[11] Actually, let me more exact; only the second part is a forgery, the part where Maimonides addresses his son R. Abraham and among other things tells him that the French scholars “don’t appear to recognize the Creator, blessed be He, except when they are ingesting boiled ox meat, seasoned in vinegar and garlic. . . . Generally, they have two wives, so that their minds are invariably fixed on sex, eating and drinking, and other sensual pleasures.”

The first part of the ethical will, before you come to דע בני אברהם, is not a forgery, but a case of mistaken identification. As noted by Israel Abrahams,[12] and more recently by R. Yitzhak Sheilat,[13] this first part is actually an ethical will of an Italian Jew directed towards his sons. He directs his words to them in the plural. Somehow, this ethical will got attached to the forged document of Maimonides, which of course is directed towards his son in the singular.[14]

In the introduction, the editor, R. Hillel Copperman, deals with the matter of the document’s authenticity.[15] He reports that he went to an unnamed great talmid hakham who told him in no uncertain terms that the ethical will was not written by Maimonides. When challenged that both R. Solomon Luria and the Hatam Sofer assumed that it was indeed written by Maimonides, this talmid hakham was not moved, and stated that they were both in error. It is not clear why the editor does not reveal the name of this talmid hakham. It could be that he is R. Shlomo Fisher, as later in the introduction the editor cites him by name, showing that R. Fisher was consulted in this matter.

After quoting from the anonymous talmid hakham, Copperman refers to numerous earlier sources that assume that the document was written by Maimonides, including various Mussar figures and also R. Aaron Kotler. He then cites R. Moses Samuel Shapiro that even though there might be difficulties with the work, one does not reject a tradition (that the document was authored by Maimonides) based on difficulties. Copperman then tells us that he asked R. Shmuel Auerbach who was uncertain about the matter. That is, the fact that earlier scholars assumed that the ethical will was written by Maimonides did not convince him of its authenticity.

Following this, Copperman went to R. Chaim Kanievsky. He was surprised to hear from R. Kanievsky that the latter had never seen or even heard of the ethical will! To say that this is difficult to believe is to put it mildly. It is indeed impossible to believe. One doesn’t need to be a great scholar to know of this work, which appears in various books and is referred to by numerous authors. Anyone who has been exposed to R. Kanievsky’s unparalleled wide-ranging knowledge knows that he is well aware of the ethical will and must also have reached an opinion about its authenticity, which for some reason he did not want to share with Copperman. Copperman himself raises this possibility but rejects it, seeing it as unlikely that R. Kanievsky would not tell him the truth.

חשבנו שמא לא רוצה הוא להיכנס לסוגיא זו, ומשנה מפני השלום. אך זה רחוק מאד בעינינו

All I would say is that while Copperman might regard this as unlikely, it is much more unlikely (actually, impossible) that a walking encyclopedia like R. Kanievsky has never even heard of the famous ethical will attributed to Maimonides.

Copperman then went to R. Steinman, and he tells us that it was clear to him that R. Steinman does not believe that the problems with the ethical will are enough to refute its authenticity. Yet he also tells us that R. Steinman referred to the matter of the Yerushalmi Kodashim, in order to show that something that even great rabbis originally regarded as authentic could later be shown to be a forgery. This latter point would appear to show that R. Steinman is not certain about the matter.

In seeking to determine if a document attributed to Maimonides is authentic, Copperman turns to the gedolim, the ones who determine Da’as Torah. Yet there are a number of people, some in the haredi world, who are experts in Maimonides’ writings, in particular, his letters and manuscripts. Shouldn’t they be the people to turn to? Shouldn’t Copperman have consulted with R. Yitzhak Sheilat or R. Shlomo Zalman Havlin, to give just two names? This is just one example of how some editors in the haredi world are simply not doing their job properly. It would be one thing to just reprint the ethical will without comment, but once Copperman writes an introduction to discuss its authenticity, how can he possibly assume that the matter will be settled simply by citing R. Steinman’s opinion, especially since R. Steinman would agree that he has no expert knowledge of this issue?

Let me return to Norman Roth, mentioned above and from whom the Seforim Blog recently had the privilege of publishing a post. He is a well-known expert in Spanish Jewish history. His footnotes in particular are always worth reading, as he uses them to correct all sorts of misconceptions. There are many supposed facts, continuously repeated, that actually have nothing to stand on, and throughout Roth’s works errors such as these are corrected. I mention this because I too might be a future subject of one of these footnotes. My book on censorship is currently with the publisher and I can’t make any further changes. In this book I deal with Ibn Ezra’s Iggeret Shabbat and discuss the controversy over whether it was directed against Rashbam. In a recent article which I just read, and thus could not refer to in my book, Roth sums up his position (which I think is unique) as follows: “In my opinion, it is highly unlikely that he [Ibn Ezra] ever went to England, and the “Sabbath letter” is surely a forgery.”[16] I am curious to hear what Ibn Ezra scholars have to say about Roth’s argument.

2. In my post here I quoted R. Nathan Lopes Cardozo’s rejection of dogma. He continues this theme in his recent article in Conversations 19 (Spring 2014). The article is titled “God is Relocating: A Critique of Contemporary Orthodoxy – Four Observations,” and I offer here a selection from it. Are there any other Orthodox (a term Cardozo rejects) rabbis who agree with the sentiments that follow?

The truth is that Jewish Orthodoxy (from the Greek orthos [“true” or “right”) and doxa (“opinion” or “belief”) never existed. Originally Judaism was highly unorthodox. Although it always believed in God and Torah, it never offered any specifics of what God meant or what Torah consisted of. That was left to speculation, never to be determined. The early Sages, as testified by the Talmud and philosophers, disagreed on some of the most fundamental issues of faith.

But over the years we wanted more certainty. We wanted it handed to us on a silver platter, so that we could avoid debates and live a life of religious comfort, apathy, and mediocrity. Influenced by other religions, we adopted the need for cast-iron certainty and psychological security. So we began to rewrite Judaism in a way that would fit into the notions of established religions – well-structured, with a good dose of dogma. What we did not realize is that by doing so, we misrepresented Judaism by losing sight of the plot, thus doing it a great disservice.

We need to realize that our epoch of uncertainty is in fact much more conducive to authentic Judaism than all the conviction we’ve had in previous generations. It forces us to rediscover what Judaism is really about and gives us the opportunity to rebuild where rebuilding is required and leave untouched what should remain untouched.

Tamar Ross is another liberal Orthodox thinker. Here are three separate passages from a recent article.[17]

It is precisely because of the importance of everyday “realist” assumptions in cementing religious commitment that so much effort is expended by religious conservatives in cordoning off some religious beliefs as off-bounds to demythologizing or re-interpretation. Because the notion of “truth” and religious commitment are so intimately connected in the human psyche, critical scrutiny of beliefs that appear indispensable to the system is sometimes held back by upholding the remote possibility that future investigation will overturn current impressions. When scientific discoveries or deeply felt moral intuitions render even such eventualities incredible, religious adherents may resort to deliberate bifurcation, conducting themselves in accordance with reason in the laboratory and in their everyday lives while preserving professions of faith in the synagogue and in formal allegiance to what are regarded by current halakhic consensus as unavoidable halakhic constraints. Irrespective of the difficulty some may have in granting legitimacy or persuasive value to such policies, it would be fair to say that a religious world-view lacking any claims of attunement to a reality beyond its self-contained universe of discourse will never match traditional belief in its ability to preserve the intensity of feeling generated by its models and paradigms and to transmit the passion of its message to future generations.

Given these precedents, we would do will to rid ourselves once and for all of the misnomer of Orthopraxy, often invoked in a pejorative sense in order to dismiss halakhically conformist behavior that is not grounded on acceptance of dogma in its literal sense. Any behavior externally conforming to that which is historically and sociologically identified with traditional halakhic practice indicates some form of belief or justification though it may not tally with the naive objectivism of strict correspondence theory.

Postmodern language theory can redeem modern Orthodoxy from its counter-productive attachment to naive objectivism. The epistemological modesty of non-foundationalism can help religious adherents move away from overly rigid definitions of doctrine and allow them to return to the pre-modern function of religion as providing a valuable universe of discourse and a compelling way of life. It can extricate them from a mindless and stultifying triumphalism and encourage the willingness to refine religious convictions by listening carefully to other points of view.

After reading Cardozo, Ross, and numerous others I have quoted in the past, the only conclusion that can be reached is that, despite what Centrist rabbis like to claim, it is certainly not dogma, Maimonidean or otherwise, that holds wider Orthodoxy together. 

In thinking about the place of dogma, people should pay close attention to the following passage from R. Kook (Shemonah Kevatzim 1:765). R. Kook tells us that even “heretics” can have a more profound belief than so-called Orthodox Jews, and are thus described by the verse from Habakkuk 2:4  צדיק באמונתו יחיה.

לפעמים ימצא כופר שיש לו אמונה חזקה, פנימית, מאירה, נובעת ממקור הקדושה העליונה, יותר מאלפי מאמינים קטני אמנה. דבר זה נוהג באישים פרטיים וכן בדורות, ועל כולם נאמר צדיק באמונתו יחיה
R. Kook’s new published volumes contain many important texts dealing with belief, and I have quoted a number of them in prior posts. Here are some more significant passages.

Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho, vol. 1, p. 182: R. Kook explains that there are two types of faith, one which is based on absolute truth, and one which he refers to as אמונה הסברית. This latter type of faith is not absolute but changes with the times. For example, in one generation one can base a belief on a certain notion (scientific, moral, etc.) while in another generation, such an approach cannot be used, because the underlying notion is no longer accepted, and to use it will be dangerous to faith. We can all think of examples where this is so, i.e., where an explanation used to strengthen faith, and which was successful in its time, today will turn people off from Judaism (for example, explanations for kashrut and circumcision, or various descriptions of women’s nature and their necessary subservience to men, used to explain women’s position in Judaism). Similarly, there are examples where years ago an explanation could not have been used because of its negative impact, while today it can have a positive impact (for example, using evolution in explaining Torah). R. Kook sees the notion he is expounding upon as alluded to in Maimonides’ famous conception of “necessary truths” (Guide 3:28). 

R. Kook’s point is very important as it tells us that while the core of belief remains absolute and unchanging, the way it is understood and expressed must change with the times. This explains why earlier rabbinic conceptions of Judaism are not always satisfying to moderns. Some people assume that the reason for this is because we are at a much lower level than earlier rabbinic greats. R. Kook’s point, however, is that everyone, in every era, is subject to the times, and even the earlier examples of אמונה הסברית  are only to be regarded as provisional. As mentioned, this is a very important point and it could be expanded at great length.

שתי דרכים לאמונה, האחת האמיתית המוחלטת, והשנית ההסברית. האחרונה משתנה היא לפי הזמנים. ישנם זמנים שאם יהיה איזה עיון מתפרסם ומוחזק, היה מזיק ליסוד דברי אמונה ברורים מצד האמת המוחלטת. ואחרי אשר העולם המדעי קבל צורה אחרת בהמשך הזמן, אבדה האמונה ההסברית ההיא את ערכה, וכבר לא מזיק כלל לשום רעיון אמוני מוחלט הפרסום של אותה ההנחה בעצמה, שהיתה בזמן העבר מזקת בפרסומה. והדברים הולכים עוד יותר, שמזדמן הדבר שצורה הסברית אחת היתה מחוייבת באיזה פרק מפרקי הזמן, עד שקבעה לה אז האמונה ההסברית את צורתה באופן מיוחד, ואחר כך יזיק דוקא אופן זה להאמונה המוחלטה, ושיש חיוב אז לפרסם את ההפך מהאמונה המוסברת אז. יסוד החילוק בין שני חלקי האמונה כבר רמז הרמב”ם, אמנם צריך אומץ לב מיוחד לעמוד בניסיון בעת חשיכה כזאת.

Tied in with this is R. Kook’s comment (Kevatzim, vol. 2, p. 167) that certain great truths can only be revealed together with falsehood, which protects the truth as it were.

ישנן אמתיות גדולות, שאינן יכולות להתגלות בעולם כי אם דוקא במעטה של שקר, ומעטה של שקר השומר את האמת נעטר גם הוא באור האמת. ופקוחי עינים יודעים להבדיל בין המעטה לעוטהו, ופחותי הנפש מביטים באור האמת בשביל מעטה השקר שלה, ונמוכי הדעת אינם מכבדים את האמת יותר מהכבוד הראוי למעטהו הנאהב אצלם לפי תכונתם הנמוכה.
One can easily come up with a number of examples of this. Just think of all the foolish talk about God and His nature. It seems that every preacher feels it is OK to talk about what God “wants”, about how God gets “angry”, or is “upset”, or is “pleased”, etc. A little thought will reveal that none of these descriptions of God can be true in an absolute sense, but since these descriptions are thought necessary in order for people to believe in the ultimate truths, i.e., the existence and providence of God, they are tolerated. (See Guide 3:28 for Maimonides’ discussion of “necessary truths”.)

Since I mentioned R. Isaac Arama earlier in this post, let me give an example of this from his writings.[18] Arama asks what is the point of the commandment to build a mishkan. It is not as if God is a physical being who needs a place to live. Yet in order that the masses have a God with whom they could feel connected, that is, a God who exercises providence, the Lord was prepared to compromise and allow them to believe that he actually was found in the mishkan. Here are some of Arama’s words:

כי באומרו ולא יכול משה לבוא אל אהל מועד ויתר להם הרחקת הגשמות למה שיורה שהיה שם דבר ממשיי המעכבו לבא לשם. וזה לפי שלא יראה להמון דבר של מציאות זולת זה. ובאומרו כי שכן עליו הענן ויתר אצלם ענין ההעתק ממקום למקום לקבל מהם שירות ועבודה כי בזה יסמוך לבם על השגחתו עליהם. ובאומרו וכבוד ה’ מלא את המשכן לא נשמר מהתקוממות במקום והיותו כמלך הקובע ישיבתו באמצע המלכות

Kevatzim mi-Ketav Yad Kodsho, vol. 2, p. 129: R. Kook tells us that true belief cannot exist without the possibility of unbelief
.
האמונה בטהרתה תצא דוקא על ידי אפשרות של כפירה בלא שום הגבלה

This is very similar to the sentiments expressed by R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg.[19] What it means is that true faith is stormy, on the edge, as it were. There are easier paths, where one is perhaps guaranteed “peace of mind.” However, this cannot be regarded as authentic religious faith. Paradoxically, true faith, the faith that keeps you up at night, can easily turn into unbelief. R. Kook also explains, ibid., p. 149, that this true faith can only be developed through freedom of thought. That is, while obedience can be assured by closing off thought, one can never reach what R. Kook terms אור א-להים if one’s thought is controlled.

Even when unbelief does arise, R. Kook does not see this as all bad. As a kabbalist, he believes that there are sparks of holiness in everything, even in unbelief. According to R. Kook, when the unbelief is directed in an ethical direction, then this too can be seen as part of the search for God (ibid., p. 151). In other words, even the atheists are engaged in derishat ha-Shem when they work for the betterment of humanity, and it unfortunate that they do not realize this.

המהומה הכפרנית כל זמן שהיא עסוקה במגמות מוסריות הרי היא ממש דרישת ד’. המוסר והרחבתו, הגדלת ערכם של החיים, ענוגם ושאיפותיהם, הוא בעצמו דרישת ד’, יותר משארי דרישות הבאות ברחשי לב המתעוררים על פי איזה דמיונות פנימיות שאין בהם הטבה מעשית לסדרי החיים. מכל מקום אומללים הם בני אדם כל זמן שאינם יודעים שכל מה שהם עסוקים לרדוף אחריו במובן המוסרי ובקשת הטוב זהו דרישת ד’, ונהרה רבה תופיע עליהם כשיגלה להם רז זה.

R. Kook also sees other positive elements in unbelief (pp. 166, 167). There are people who assume that there is no afterlife, or any reward and punishment. The positive aspect of these mistaken beliefs is that the unbelievers’ good works are not performed in order to receive reward, but for their own sake. This is a very high level of service, something Jews realized long before Kant.

יצר הרע בא לאדם לפעמים להוכיח לו שאין לו תקוה לעולם הבא. – ידע נאמנה, שהוא עומד להתעלות במעלה גדולה מאד, עד שיהי’ עובד ד’ שלא על מנת לקבל פרס, כי אם מאהבה שכלית טהורה.

הכפירה בשכר ועונש מחנכת את הבריות לעשות טוב מצד עצם הטוב. וכל מה שיתרבו עושי טוב באמת, כן יתמעט ההכרח של מציאות רעיון הכפירה, שאיננו כי אם אמצעי תרבותי לזה המצב.

Even the very thought of God when engaged in the good is not the highest level, so again, paradoxically, unbelief prepares the ground for service on the highest level (ibid., p. 166).

הצורך לחשוב על דבר א-להים היא ירידה גדולה, שהיא דרושה לאדם בתור רפואה. הכפירה היא הכנה שלילית לצורך העילוי העליון שלא יהיה שום צורך לחשוב על דבר א-להות, כי אם עצם החיים יהיה אור א-להים

Finally, let me call attention to one more interesting point about faith. R. Jacob Wreschner, Seder Yaakov (Jerusalem, 2010), vol. 2, p. 425, records that he heard from his father that R. Yerucham Levovitz had religious doubts in his youth, and R. Isaac Blazer helped him overcome these. R. Wreschner states that it is no insult to a great figure to reveal this information, though he notes that R. Judah Zev Segal, when he tells this story, does not reveal who the subject is.[20]

Anyone who thinks about the place of belief in traditional Judaism is aware of the phenomenon called, for a lack of a better term, “orthopraxy.” Many people assume that this is a fairly recent phenomenon. Yet already in the nineteenth century R. Solomon Kluger wrote about people who were completely observant but did not have proper beliefs.[21] He sees these people as worse than typical sinners who actually violate prohibitions (he specifically mentions sexual prohibitions).

בימים הראשונים היה הרשעות במעשה. אם ראו באיש אחד שאינו פרוץ בעריות וכדומה ידעו שהוא כשר. לא כן עתה הרשעות תלוי בלב ויתכן שיהי’ מקיים כל התורה ובלבו ישים ארבו ויש בלבו שמץ אפיקרסת [!] והוא גרוע מן הרשעים הראשונים שהי’ בהם כמה חטאים

Someone who is attuned to R. Kook’s way of thinking will approach matters from a completely different perspective, and see the phenomenon of orthopraxy in a much more positive light. Consider the following: The so-called orthoprax individual does not have a traditional view about the Torah. Yet he does not use this as an excuse to live a secular life, what in yeshivah we referred to as a life of “hefkerut”. On the contrary, this individual chooses to bind himself to the Torah, to observe mitzvot, to “inconvenience” himself when it would be much easier to abandon it all. How is one to judge a person who, whatever his theology, makes enormous financial sacrifices to send his children to Jewish schools and happily gives to a variety of Orthodox causes? How is one to judge such a person who when stuck in a strange place for Shabbat asks the hotel clerk to open his door (as it is electronic) and refuses to carry a map on the unfamiliar street, a person who chooses to live on fruit because there is no kosher restaurant in the city he is visiting (to give just a few typical challenges that Orthodox and orthoprax Jews confront)?

R. Kook’s insights about the religious significance of the non-observant who were building the land of Israel must be multiplied many times over when dealing with completely observant Jews who sacrifice in so many ways for Torah and halakhah, even though their beliefs are not “Orthodox”. Yet this is a phenomenon which, as far as I know, R. Kook does not mention. Rather, he refers to those who because of their belief in biblical criticism rejected all observance. They assumed that if you don’t accept the divine origin of the mitzvot that there is no need to observe them. R. Kook rejected this assumption and argued that there is a good reason to observe mitzvot even if one does not have a traditional view of the Torah’s authorship.[22] I will flesh out R. Kook’s argument in the next post.

3. In an earlier post I referred to Mel Scult’s new book, The Radical American Judaism of Mordecai M. Kaplan. Scult discusses the burning of Kaplan’s siddur at an Agudas ha-Rabbonim gathering on June 12, 1945, at which Kaplan was himself also put in herem. The significance of this event can be seen in that there were over two hundred rabbis in attendance.[23]

Here is the text of the herem from Ha-Pardes, July 1945.

The sentence immediately before the text of the herem clearly implies that the burning of the book was part of the ceremony (and see also Ha-Pardes, Nov. 1945 p. 23). Thus, Jeffrey S. Gurock and Jacob J. Schacter had good reason to write as follows:

Scult, Judaism Faces the Twentieth Century, p. 420, n. 38, suggests that the act of book burning was unintentioned and not directed by the rabbinic leaders themselves, but all evidence cited above points to the contrary. This was clearly an official act, sanctioned by those assembled as a fitting and appropriate conclusion to a most serious and solemn deliberation.[24]

Zachary Silver, who has recently written a very nice article on the episode, available here, writes as follows:

Mel Scult’s biography of Kaplan mentions that the event occurred, but he does not believe that Agudat HaRabbanim burned the book as part of the formal ceremony. Rather, he says that the burning occurred incidentally at the back of the room. However, Agudat HaRabbanim’s documents illustrate that it was a previously scripted formula.[25]

This burning of a Jewish book, coming so soon after the end of the Holocaust and so much at odds with the American tradition of freedom of expression, horrified both Jews and non-Jews. The fact that the excommunication and burning were covered in The New York Times only made matters worse, and everyone assumed that this was an officially sanctioned action of Agudat ha-Rabbanim.

In writing about the event in his diary, Kaplan referred to “rabbinical gangsters who resort to nazi [!] methods in order to regain their authority.”[26] He later publicly stated as follows:

It is just too bad that men who call themselves rabbis should in this day and age resort to the barbarous procedure of outlawing a man without giving him a hearing, and to the Nazi practice of burning books that displease them. God save us from such leadership and from the disgrace it is likely to bring upon Jews.[27]

Responding to the horror aroused by the book-burning, Agudat ha-Rabbanim publicly declared that it had nothing to do with this action. It claimed that the burning was done independently by one of its members. Silver writes:

The Union of Orthodox Rabbis later disavowed responsibility for the book burning, claiming that the event was not a scheduled part of the ceremony but rather the act of one rabbi from the audience who acted on his own, after the service was completed. This version seems unlikely, however, since the article about the excommunication in HaPardes, the unofficial magazine of Agudat HaRabbanim, gives specific justification for the book burning as part of the ceremony and does so in halakhic terms. The more likely scenario is that, after witnessing the heated public reaction, Agudat Harabbanim chose to disavow responsibility for burning the siddur as a face-saving public relations move. Thus, by saying that the burning was not part of the planned activities, the Union of Orthodox Rabbis could attempt to refocus public attention on the greater issues of the heresy of Kaplan and the Conservative movement, rather than on a particularly unsettling segment of the ceremony, which itself evoked memories of Nazi ritual book burnings. Of course, the uproar implies that Agudat Ha-Rabbanim did not realize that most Americans would be troubled by a book burning in 1945 – a lapse of judgment that would manifest the extent by which the Union of Orthodox Rabbis had lost touch with contemporary currents in American culture.[28]

Years after the event, R. Norman Lamm reflected on the book burning.

If we want to win people over to Orthodoxy, we need to present ourselves as measured, mature, and moderate people with deep faith and the right practice, but we do not insult others and we do not damage or condemn them. Coming out with issurim [decrees that forbid particular actions] against everyone else is like another Fatwa. When I was younger there was a heretic by the name of Mordecai Kaplan, and the Agudas Harabbonim had this whole big book burning party. I thought it was ridiculous to have a book burning in the twentieth century. It didn’t make anybody decide to become more religious observant. Nobody who was reading his books said[,] “If important Orthodox rabbis burned them, we’re not going to read them.” If anything, it aroused interest in people who otherwise would not have wanted to read these books. But in addition, what it accomplished was that it got people to look at the Orthodox as fanatics. That’s no way to make friends and win people over to Orthodoxy.[29]

What we see from what I have quoted is that there is agreement that it was Agudat ha-Rabbanim that sanctioned the burning of the siddur.[30] Silver adds, “It is unclear who actually burned the siddur, as the report in HaPardes uses the passive voice.”

In fact, we do know who burnt the siddur, Based on this information, we can also determine that the other point that “everyone” knows, that it was Agudat ha-Rabbanim that sanctioned the burning, is incorrect.

In 1945 The Jewish Reconstructionist Foundation published a booklet, A Challenge to Freedom of Worship. I don’t know why, but this is a very rare publication. I have therefore uploaded it here. From this booklet, you get a sense of the great ill-will produced by the excommunication of Kaplan and the burning of his siddur. This is what appears on the very first page of the booklet.

I first saw this booklet shortly before R. Joseph Ralbag passed away. At that time he was not well and I could not schedule a time to speak with him. However, at my request R. Aryeh Ralbag asked his father some questions about the episode, and I can report the following from the late R. Joseph Ralbag. R. Ralbag did not decide on the spur of the moment to burn the siddur. Rather, he knew he was going to do this ahead of time and even discussed it with his future wife. Yet the other members of Agudat ha-Rabbanim were unaware of his plans until he lit the siddur on fire. In other words, this was an individual act by R. Ralbag and, as Agudat ha-Rabbanim would later state, it was not sanctioned by them. This testimony, from the main protagonist of the event, should finally settle the matter. (Although R. Ralbag denied burning the siddur in the telephone call referred to on the page printed above, this was obviously only said to protect himself after the controversy broke out. As indicated, hundreds of people saw him burn the siddur.[31])
One more interesting point about this episode is that Rav Tzair (Chaim Tchernowitz) claimed, in the course of an attack against Kaplan’s siddur, that according to halakhah it was forbidden to burn the work.[32] I would be curious to hear what some of the readers make of this.

שמה שהחכמים גזרו על ס”ת שכתבו מין שישרף, אינו אלא מפני שהשמות לא נכתבו בקדושה, ואפשר שנכתבו לשם ע”ז, אבל בנידון דידן הרי לא את כה”י של קפלן שרפו, אלא את הסידור, שסידר אותו יהודי תמים, שבידוע שלא כוון לשום דבר אחר כשסידר את אותיות השם, ובכן אסור היה לשרוף את האזכרות שבו. ובזה עשו הרבנים שלא כדין ששרפו את הסידור (אולם הם הודיעו שלא גזרו שריפה על הסידור אלא שצורבא מרבנן אחד שרפו על דעת עצמו)
4. Before his passing, R. David Hollander asked if I could review the memoir he had written. At the time he asked me, I was too busy to do so, but hoped that I would later have the opportunity. After Hollander’s death I was unable to find out what became of the memoir. (Hollander did not have any children who would have inherited it.) Perhaps a reader will be able to help in this matter.

5. Last year Yisrael Kashkin produced a nice poster of religious Zionist rabbis. You can see it here. He has recently produced the following poster of German rabbis.

You can order framed 8.5 x 14″ and laminated 8.5 x 14″ copies. The former are meant for a wall and the latter for a sukkah. Anyone interested should write to thetidesociety@gmail.com 

[1] Akedat Yitzhak, parashat Nitzavim, sha’ar 99 (pp. 105ff). Speaking of free will, see also R Meir Simhah of Dvinsk, Meshekh Hokhmah, Introduction to Exodus, who states that Moses’ free will was also taken away from him.
שהשי”ת שלל ממנו הבחירה לגמרי ונשאר מוכרח כמלאכים.
See also his Or Sameah, Hilkhot Teshuvah, ch. 4, at the end of his lengthy essay on divine knowledge and free will. In his Introduction to Exodus, R. Meir Simhah also claims that Joshua’s free will was taken away.
גם ממנו שלל השי”ת הבחירה לגמרי כמו ממשה, שלא ישלול חלילה דבר מתורת משה
[2] Akedat Yitzhak, parashat Bereshit, sha’ar 9 (p. 92b).
[3] For another fascinating idea from Arama, see here that he did not believe that the book of Esther was written with ruah ha-kodesh. Rather, the work is a completely secular (i.e., pagan) text, translated into Hebrew, and this explains the omission of God’s name. The ruah ha-kodesh is only seen in the fact that Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah removed all falsehood from the work. This passage from Arama comes from his introduction to the book of Esther which appears in the standard edition of Akedat Yitzhak, first published in the nineteenth century with a commentary by R. Hayyim Joseph Pollak. If you look at this edition you will find that while the introduction is by Arama, the actual commentary is by his son, R. Meir. This is also what is found in the 1573 Venice edition of Akedat Yitzhak. R. Isaac’s commentary to Esther appeared in the Constantinople, 1518 edition, and was not reprinted again until 1990. In 2005 Mossad ha-Rav Kook also published an edition of this commentary.
[4] Regarding both of these matters, see Menachem Kellner, trans. Principles of Faith (Rosh Amanah) (East Brunswick, N.J., 1982), p. 219 n. 65.
[5] See Abraham Epstein, Mi-Kadmoniyot ha-Yehudim, pp. 117 n. 2, 120.
[6] See R. Yehiel Goldhaber’s Purim 5773 article, “Bitul ha-Ra ha-Nif’al bi-Yemei ha-Purim,” p. 2
[7] See Senior Sachs’ introduction to Yehiel Brill, Yein Levanon (Paris, 1866).
[8] Meor Einayim (Vilna, 1866), vol. 2, ch. 38 (p. 25). Regarding Abarbanel, see also my post here where R. Soloveitchik is quoted as saying that he wouldn’t want Abarbanel as president of Yeshiva University. I have been informed that R. Ruderman did not like Abarbanel and that is why his biblical commentaries are not found in the Ner Israel beit midrash. I was told that the reason for this dislike was that Abarbanel rejects certain aggadic statements (sometimes in a harsh manner). Some have argued that Abarbanel was not a talmudist by pointing out that he apparently didn’t realize that Bnei Brak was a place, instead thinking that מסובין בבני ברק refers to the furniture the Sages were sitting on. See his commentary to the Passover Haggadah, s.v. מעשה בר’ אליעזר. Yet it is hard to imagine that Abarbanel did not know what Bnei Brak is, for it is mentioned a number of times in the Talmud, including the famous statement in Gittin 57b and Sanhedrin 96b that descendants of Haman studied Torah in Bnei Brak. It is also mentioned in the book of Joshua 19:45. Interestingly, R. Shem Tov Ibn Shem Tov, in his commentary on the Haggadah, seems to say that the name of the city is Brak, and Bnei refers to its inhabitants. See Otzar ha-Rishonim al Haggadah shel Pesah, ed. Holzer (Miami Beach, 2006), p. 20. As with Abarbanel, it is hard to imagine that R. Shem Tov did not know the earlier biblical and rabbinic passages from which it is clear that the city’s name is Bnei Brak. For more regarding Abarbanel, see the interesting discussion in R. Yisrael Veltz, Divrei Yisrael, vol. 2, Even ha-Ezer, no. 14, and see also Pardes Eliezer: Erusin ve-Nisuin (Brooklyn, 2010), pp. 176-177.
[9] In Pines’ translation from the Arabic (Guide 1:73) this is rendered “affirmation of admissibility,” and Maimonides explains (Guide 1:73): “They [the Mutakallimun] are of the opinion that everything that may be imagined is an admissible notion for the intellect.” In his note to the passage, R. Kafih states that Ibn Tibbon’s translation as ההעברה is inaccurate, and his version has ההתכנות.
[10] Plotinus refers to this as “two-fold ignorance”, which is also the “disease of the multitude.” See Yehudah Avida, Midrash ha-Melitzah ha-Ivrit (Jerusalem, 1938), p. 49. Of course, the one who has knowledge but because of this thinks that he knows it all is a fool. Here is the formulation of R. Yedai’ah ha-Penini, Mivhar ha-Peninim (Warsaw, 1864), p. 2 (no. 21):
ואמר האדם חכם בעודנו מבקש החכמה. וכאשר יחשוב שהגיע אל תכליתה הוא סכל
For the Arabic source of this formulation, see Yehudah Ratsaby, “Mekorotav ha-Araviyim shel ‘Mivhar ha-Peninim,’” Sinai 102 (1988), p. 113. In the years after Maimonides, the term כת המדברים was used by many, with a few different meanings. For example, in a letter to R. Solomon Luria, R. Moses Isserles writes as follows (She’elot u-Teshuvot ha-Rama, no. 7):

אינני מכת המדברים בעלי הלשון כי כבד פה ולשון אנכי

R. Pinhas Horowitz also refers to the Medabrim and provides this fanciful explanation of its meaning (Sefer ha-Berit, vol. 1, sec. 19, ch. 3):

מדברים ולא מבינים מה שמדברים
[11] See Mitpahat Sefarim (Lvov, 1870), pp. 71-72.
[12] Hebrew Ethical Wills (Philadelphia, 1926), pp. 101-102.
[13] See Iggerot ha-Rambam, vol. 2 pp. 697ff.
[14] In at least one letter Maimonides addresses a man in third person singular feminine, which was a respectful way of speaking in Arabic. See Iggerot ha-Rambam, ed. Sheilat, vol. 1, p. 420. Sheilat “corrected” the original so that the feminine references are now masculine. See also R. Joseph Zechariah Stern, Beur Hadash me-ha-Rav Yosef Zechariah Stern al Shir ha-Shirim (Vilna, 1875), pp. 7b-8a.
[15] Copperman tells us that it was only towards the completion of the project that some people mentioned to him that the work might not be authentic, and this is what led him to consult with various “gedolim”. This, too, is a sign of a problem, for if he had done his homework he would have learnt of this at the beginning of the project, not at the end.
[16] “Abraham Ibn Ezra – Highlights of His Life,” Iberia Judaica 4 (2010), p. 35.
[17] “Religious Belief in a Postmodern Age,” in Avi Sagi and Dov Schwartz, eds., Faith: Jewish Perspectives (Boston, 2013), pp. 217-218, 218 n. 32, 239.
[18] Akedat Yitzhak, Terumah, sha’ar 48, pp. 148ff. The Hebrew quotation I cite comes from p. 152b. See the discussion of this text in Louis Jacobs, Judaism and Theology (London, 2005), pp. 60-61.
[19] See here.
[20] See Segal, Yir’ah ve-Da’at (Lakewood, 1989), vol. 2, p. 146 n. 14.
[21] Tuv Ta’am ve-Da’at, series 3, vol. 2, no. 87.
[22] See Kevatzim, pp. 124ff., 132ff.
[23] See Zachary Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” American Jewish Archives 62 (2010), p. 23.
[24] A Modern Heretic and a Traditional Community (New York, 1997), p. 206 n. 14
[25] Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” p. 40 n. 2.
[26] Quoted in Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” p. 23.
[27] Quoted in Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” p. 32.
[28] Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” p. 24.
[29] Quoted in Silver, “The Excommunication of Mordecai Kaplan,” p. 39.
[30] Other sources could also be quoted in support of this assertion. The only source I have found that states otherwise is Simon Noveck, Milton Steinberg: Portrait of a Rabbi (New York, 1978), p. 183.
On June 12, 1945, a few days after the appearance of the Bublick review, the Union of Orthodox Rabbis of the United States and Canada held a special meeting at the McAlpin Hotel in New York to protest the new prayer book. Attended by more than two hundred rabbis, the gathering unanimously voted to issue a writ of excommunication against Mordecai Kaplan as the principal editor of the prayer book. With solemn ceremony, the entire audience rose and repeated, word by word, the text of the first psalm, after which the traditional ban was promulgated. Immediately thereafter, one member of the group suddenly took a copy of the “new heretical prayer book,” placed it on the speaker’s stand, and set fire to it. The Union later disavowed responsibility for the burning, maintaining that the action had been taken by a single rabbi after the formal meeting was over. All admitted, however, that no effort had been made by those present to prevent the prayer book from being burned.
The first Psalm begins “Happy is the man that hath not walked in the counsel of the wicked.”
[31] The page printed above quotes a text from the June 21, 1945 New York Times disavowing R. Ralbag’s action. However, there is no such passage in the New York Times. Perhaps it appeared in the Yiddish Jewish Morning Journal which also covered the event.
[32] Siddur Tefilah shel To’im u-Mat’im (New York, 1946), p. 4. This work used to be on hebrewbooks.org but was removed. You can now find it here.


Eliezer Brodt: A Behind The Scenes Look at Two New Editions: Part One

A Behind The Scenes Look at Two New Editions: Part One
by Rabbi Eliezer Brodt

A few weeks ago, while perusing through the new Seforim at the Girsa Seforim store in Jerusalem, I noticed a new מנחת פתים from ר’ מאיר אריק. At first I thought it was another plain old reprint of the original one. But a few friends tipped me off to it being much more than a reprint. So off I went to purchase the seforim. This is a short review what this version is exactly.

It’s a well known fact that, ר’ מאיר אריק left over a great deal of written works; as opposed to his brother ר’ פישל who was also a great gaon, but wrote nothing. One of his more famous works is the מנחת פתים on ד’ חלקי שלחן ערוך. The concept behind the sefer is a published listing of his comments on שלחן ערוך, some lengthy with the expected back and forth, others short with only references. Many of these citations are to rare seforim, or other not-usually available sources, all locally annotated with his tremendous בקיאות. One point of interest is his usage of new ראשונים such as the מאירי and אור זרוע. Anyone learning הלכה knows how valuable this work is- it does not require my personal הסכמה (who am I to even dare give it one!) as the work speaks for itself! The work on אורח חיים was reprinted a few times, most recently a few years ago by מכון עוז והדר. The part on יורה דעה חושן משפט ואבן העזר was also reprinted a few years ago in a photo-mechanical reproduction of the 5658 (1898). This new version only came out with two volumes so far – on אורח חיים ויורה דעה. The individuals responsible for its publishing have already proven themselves with the טל תורה החדש and שו”ת אמרי יושר (both the original editions as well as a new volume compiled from manuscripts and responsa published in rare journals) that they put out 10 years ago.

There are many great additions to this new version of the מנחת פתים. Firstly, over the years ר’ מאיר אריק had many additions to his מנחת פתים which he planned on printing. He never got around to it but right before WWII, two of his תלמידם gathered everything together including many manuscripts of his and they printed it, in Krakow in 1938. Being that it was right before the war it seems no copies survived the war – to the extant that no one seemed to even know about this edition. Miraculously, Rabbi Zweibel’s own Rosh Yeshivah had found a copy of this print from Krakow, and gave it to his student for reproduction! Aside from this, Rabbi Zweibel was privileged to see the actual שלחן ערוך thatר’ מאיר אריק used, which had many notes written in the margins. Further, he continued to track down other notes and novellas that ר’ מאיר אריק had written related to שלחן ערוך. All of this was included in this new edition. In addition, the editors did the kind favor of letting one know before each piece from where it comes from a manuscript or the Krakow edition etc. Almost every page contains a few new pieces so one can easily see how much exactly was added to this new printing. Along with all additions, the publisher included notes from two of his talmidim ר’ יהודה הורביץ andר’ צבי פרומר , famous for his work שו”ת ארץ צבי. They also separated all the תשובות that ר’ מאיר brings throughout the מנחת פתים from the body text, and put them in the back – so as not to confuse the user. In the back they include a תשובה from ר’ מאיר אריק to his תלמיד, הגאון ר’ משולם ראהט. Also included is an index of his other seforim, שו”ת אמרי יושר, ואמרי יושר חלק ג’ collating the topics relating to אורח חיים ויורה דעה (each index in its specific volume). All in all, this is a beautiful job and a good buy for those whose interests include these kind of seforim.



Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven: The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition

Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven:  The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition  

On April 23, 1902, the cornerstone to the Taharat Ha-Kodesh synagogue was laid, and on Rosh Ha-Shana the next year, September 7, 1903, the synagogue was officially opened.  The synagogue building was on one of Vilna’s largest boulevards and constructed in a neo-Moorish architectural style, capped with a blue cupola that was visible for blocks. There was a recessed entry with three large arches and two columns.  The interior housed an impressive ark, located in a semi-circular apse and covered in a domed canopy. But what really set the synagogue apart from the other 120 or so places to pray in Vilna was that above the ark, on the first floor, were arched openings that served the choir.  In fact, it was generally referred to by that feature and was known as the Choral Synagogue.  The congregants were orthodox, most could be transported to any modern Orthodox synagogue and they would indistinguishable, in look – dressing in contemporary styles, many were of the professional class, middle to upper middle class, and they considered themselves maskilim, or what we might call Modern Orthodox.[1]

The incorporation of the choir should be without controversy.  Indeed, the Chief Rabbi of Vilna, Yitzhak Rubenstein would alternate giving his sermon between the Great Synagogue, or the Stut Shul [City Synagogue], and the Choral Synagogue.[2]  Judaism can trace a long relationship to music and specifically the appreciation, and recognition of the unique contribution it brings to worship.  Some identify biblical antecedents, such as Yuval, although he was not specifically Jewish.  Of course, David and Solomon are the early Jews most associated with music.  David used music for religious and secular purposes – he used to have his lyre play to wake him at midnight, the first recorded instance of an alarm clock.  Singing and music was an integral part of the temple service, and the main one for the Levite class who sang collectively, in a choir.  With the destruction of the temple, choirs, and music, in general, was separated from Judaism.  After that cataclysmic event, we have little evidence of choirs and even music.  Indeed, some argued that there was an absolute ban on music extending so far as to prohibit singing. 

It would not be until the early modern period in the  16th century that choirs and music began to play a central role in Jewish ritual, and even then, it was limited – and was associated with modernity or those who practiced a more modern form of the religion. 
Rabbi Leon (Yehudah Aryeh) Modena (1571-1648) was one of the most colorful figures in the Jewish Renaissance. Born in Venice, he traveled extensively among the various cities in the region.[3] He authored over 15 books, and made his living teaching and preaching in synagogues, schools, and private homes; composing poems on commission for various noblemen; and as an assistant printer.  In 1605, he was living in Ferrara where an incident occurred in the synagogue that kickstarted the collective reengagement with music. Modena explained that “we have six or eight knowledgeable men, who know something about the science of song, i.e. “[polyphonic] music,” men of our congregation (may their Rock keep and save them), who on holidays and festivals raise their voices in the synagogue and joyfully sing songs, praises, hymns and melodies such as Ein Keloheinu, Aleinu Leshabeah, Yigdal, Adon Olam etc. to the glory of the Lord in an orderly relationship of the voices according to this science [polyphonic music]. … Now a man stood up to drive them out with the utterance of his lips, answering [those who enjoyed the music], saying that it is not proper to do this, for rejoicing is forbidden, and song is forbidden, and hymns set to artful music have been forbidden since the Temple was destroyed.[4]
Modena was not cowed by this challenge and wrote a lengthy resposum to defend the practice which he sent to the Venetian rabbinate and received their approbation.  But that did not put the matter to rest. 
In 1610, as he approached forty, Modena received his ordination from the Venetian rabbis and settled in Venice to serve not only as a rabbi but as a cantor, with his pleasant tenor voice.  In around 1628 in the Venetian ghetto, an academy of music was organized with Modena serving as the Maestro di Caeppella . Both in name and motto that academy embraced its subversive nature.  It was called the Academia degli Impediti, the Academy of the Hampered, named in derision of the traditional Jewish reluctance to perform music because of “the unhappy state of captivity which hampers every act of competence.” In this spirit, especially in light of Modena’s responsum on music in 1605, the Accademia took the Latin motto Cum Recordaremur Sion, and in Hebrew, Bezokhrenu et Tzion, when we remembered Zion, based paradoxically on Psalm 137, one of the texts invoked against Jewish music: “We hung up our harps…. How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”
On Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah in October 1628, a spectacular musical performance was held in the Spanish synagogue, which had been decorated with silver and jewels. Two choirs from the academy sang artistic Hebrew renderings of the afternoon service, the evening service, and some Psalms. Their extensive repertoire lasted a few hours. A throng of Christian noblemen and ladies attended the Simchat Torah service. The applause was great, and police had to guard the gates to ensure order
Beyond his musical endeavors, Modena also served as an expert in Hebrew publishing. The two would create a confluence that enabled the first modern Jewish book of music. 
For Rabbi Leon Modena, his young friend, the musician Salamone Rossi, would herald the Jewish re-awakening. We know very little about Rossi’s life. He was born circa 1570 and died sometime after 1628, possibly in 1630. He is listed as a violinist and composer on the payroll of the Gonzaga dukes, rulers of Mantua, and was associated with a Jewish theater company, as composer or performer or both. In addition, Rossi was also writing motets – short pieces of sacred music typically polyphonic and unaccompanied – for the synagogue using contemporary Italian and church styles. He was specifically encouraged in this endeavor by Modena, who urged the composer to have this music published so that it could have an even greater impact.[5] In 1622 the publishing house of Bragadini in Venice issued thirty-three of Rossi’s synagogue motets in a collection, Shirim asher le-Shlomo, that Modena edited. This extraordinary publication represented a huge innovation. First, the use of musical notations that required a particularly thorny issue to be resolved right versus left. Rossi decided to keep the traditional musical notational scheme and provide those from left to right and write the Hebrew backward, because the latter would be more familiar to the reader.  Second, it was the first time the Hebrew synagogue liturgy had ever been set as polyphonic choral music. Polyphony in the Christian church had begun centuries earlier. Rossi’s compositions sound virtually indistinguishable from a church motet, except for one thing: the language is Hebrew – the lyrics are from the liturgy of the synagogue, where this music was performed.
There was bound to be a conflict between the modern Jews who had been influenced by the Italian Renaissance and who supported this innovation, and those with a more conservative theology and praxis. But the antagonism towards music, especially non-traditional music, remained strong. Anticipating objections over Rossi’s musical innovations, and perhaps reflecting discussions that were already going on in Venice or Mantua, Modena wrote a lengthy preface included the responsum he wrote in 1605 in Ferrara in support of music in which he refuted the arguments against polyphony in the synagogue. “Shall the prayers and praises of our musicians become objects of scorn among the nations? Shall they say that we are no longer masters of the art of music and that we cry out to the God of our fathers like dogs and ravens?”3 Modena acknowledged the degraded state of synagogue music in his own time but indicates that it was not always so. “For wise men in all fields of learning flourished in Israel in former times. All noble sciences sprang from them; therefore, the nations honored them and held them in high esteem so that they soared as if on eagles’ wings. Music was not lacking among these sciences; they possessed it in all its perfection and others learned it from them. … However, when it became their lot to dwell among strangers and to wander to distant lands where they were dispersed among alien peoples, these vicissitudes caused them to forget all their knowledge and to be devoid of all wisdom.”  
In the same essay, he quotes Emanuel of Rome, a Jewish poet from the early fourteenth century, who wrote, “What does the science of music say to the Christians? ‘Indeed, I was stolen out of the land of the Hebrews.’” Using the words of Joseph from the book of Genesis, Modena was hinting that the rituals and the music of the Catholic church had been derived from those of ancient Israel, an assertion that has been echoed by many scholars. Although it can be argued that Modena indulges in hyperbole, both ancient and modern with some attributing the earliest ritual music to Obadiah the convert who noted a Jewish prayer that was only then appropriated for use in Gregorian chants.[6] 
Directly addressing the naysayers, Modena wrote that “to remove all criticism from misguided hearts, should there be among our exiles some over-pious soul (of the kind who reject everything new and seek to forbid all knowledge which they cannot share) who may declare this [style of sacred music] forbidden because of things he has learned without understanding, … and to silence one who made confused statements about the same matter. He immediately cites the liturgical exception to the ban on music. Who does not know that all authorities agree that all forms of singing are completely permissible in connection with the observance of the ritual commandments? … I do not see how anyone with a brain in his skull could cast any doubt on the propriety of praising God in song in the synagogue on special Sabbaths and on festivals. … The cantor is urged to intone his prayers in a pleasant voice. If he were able to make his one voice sound like ten singers, would this not be desirable? … and if it happens that they harmonize well with him, should this be considered a sin? … Are these individuals on whom the Lord has bestowed the talent to master the technique of music to be condemned if they use it for His glory? For if they are, then cantors should bray like asses and refrain from singing sweetly lest we invoke the prohibition against vocal music.
No less of an authority than the Shulhan Arukh, explains that “when a cantor who stretches out the prayers to show off his pleasant voice, if his motivation is to praise God with a beautiful melody, then let him be blessed, and let him chant with dignity and awe.” And that was Rossi’s exact motivation to “composed these songs not for my own honor but for the honor of my Father in heaven who created this soul within me. For this, I will give thanks to Him evermore.” The main thrust of Modena’s preface was to silence the criticisms of the “self-proclaimed or pseudo pious ones” and “misguided hearts.”
Modena’s absurdist argument – should we permit the hazzan to bray like an ass – is exactly what a 19th-century rabbi, Rabbi Yosef Zechariah Stern, who was generally opposed to the Haskalah – and some of the very people who started the Choral Synagogue, espoused. Stern argues that synagogal singing is not merely prohibited but is a cardinal sin.  To Stern, such religious singing is only the practice of non-Jews who  “strive to glorify their worship in their meeting house [בית הכנסת שלהם] so that it be with awe, and without other intermediaries that lead to distraction and sometimes even to lightheadedness.  In the case of Jews, however, there is certainly be a desecration of G-d’s Name when we make the holy temple a place of partying and frivolity and a meeting house for men and women … in prayer. there is no place for melodies [נגונים], only the uttering of the liturgy with gravity [כובד ראש] … to do otherwise is the way of arrogance, as one who casts off the yoke, where the opposite is required: submission, awe and gravity, and added to this because of the public desecration of G-d’s Name – a hillul ha-Shem be-rabbim.” (For more on this responsum see here.)
 Similarly, even modern rabbis, for example, R. Eliezer Waldenberg, who died in 2006, also rejected Modena’s position, because of modernity.  Although in this instance, not because of the novelty or the substance of Modena’s decision but because of the author’s lifestyle.  Modena took a modern approach to Jewish life and was guilty of such sins as not wearing a yarmulke in public and permitting ball playing on Shabbos. 
Despite these opinions, for many Orthodox Jews, with some of the Yeshivish or Haredi communities as outliers, song is well entrenched in the services, no more so than on the Yomim Noraim. Nor is Modena an outlier rabbinic opinion of the value of music and divine service.  No less of an authority than the Vilna Gaon is quoted as highly praising music and that it plays a more fundamental role to Judaism that extends well beyond prayer.  Before we turn to the latter point it is worth noting that at times Jewish music was appropriated by non-Jews – among the most important composers, Beethoven.  One the holiest prayer of Yom Kippur, Kol Nedri, is most well-known not for the text (which itself poses many issues) but the near-universal tune.  That tune, although not as repetitive in the prayer can be heard in the sixth movement of Beethoven’s Quartet in C# minor, opus 131 (you can hear a version here).  One theory is in 1824, the Jews in Vienna were finally permitted to build their own synagogue and for the consecration asked Vienna’s most famous composer to write a piece of music.[7]  Although Beethoven did not take the commission, he may have done some research on Jewish music and learned of this tune.  We could ask now, is Beethoven playing a Jewish music?[8]
R. Yisrael M’Sklov, a student of the Gaon records that he urged the study of certain secular subjects as necessary for the proper Torah study, algebra and few other, but “music he praised more than the rest.  He said that most of the fundamentals and secrets of the torah … the Tikkunei Zohar are impossible to understand without music, it is so powerful it can resurrect the dead with its properties.  Many of these melodies and their corresponding secrets were among the items that Moshe brought when he ascended to Sinai.”[9] 
In this, the Gaon was aligned with many Hassidim who regularly incorporated music into their rituals, no matter where the origin.  Just one of many examples, Habad uses the tune to the French national anthem for the prayer Aderet ve-Emunah.  The power of music overrides any considerations of origin.  Indeed, they hold that not only can music affect us, but we can affect the music itself, we hold the power to transform what was impure, the source and make it pure.  That is not simply a cute excuse, but the essence of what Hassidim view the purpose of Judaism, making holy the world.  Music is no longer a method of attaining holiness, singing is itself holiness.[10]  
Today in Vilna, of the over 140 places of worship before the Holocaust five shul buildings remain and only one shul is still in operation.  That shul is the Choral Synagogue – the musical shul.  Nonetheless not all as it should be.  In the 1960s a rabbi from Israel was selected as the rabbi for the community and the shul.  When he arrived, he insisted that choirs have no place in Judaism and ordered the choir arches sealed up.  We, however, have the opportunity, as individuals and community to use the power of music to assist us on the High Holidays – that can be me-hayeh ma’tim.
[1] See Cohen-Mushlin, Synagogues in Lithuania N-Z, 253-61. For more on the founding of the congregation see Mordechai Zalkin, “Kavu le-Shalom ve-ain:  Perek be-Toldot ha-Kneset ha-Maskili ‘Taharat ha-Kodesh be-Vilna,” in Yashan mi-Pnei Hadash: Mehkarim be-Toldot Yehudei Mizrah Eiropah u-ve-Tarbutam: Shai le-Imanuel Etkes, eds. David Asaf and Ada Rapoport-Albert (Jerusalem:  Merkaz Zalman Shazar, 2009) 385-403. The images are taken from Cohen-Mushlin. 
[2] Hirsz Abramowicz, Profiles of a Lost World (Detroit:  Wayne State University Press, 1999), 293.
[3] Regarding Modena see his autobiography, translated into English, The Autobiography of a Seventeenth Century Rabbi, ed. Mark Cohen (Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1988); and the collection of articles in The Lion Shall Roar: Leon Modena and his World, ed. David Malkiel, Italia, Conference Supplement Series, 1 (Jerusalem:  Hebrew University Press, 2003).
[4] His responsum was reprinted in Yehuda Areyeh Modena, She’a lot u-Teshuvot Ziknei Yehuda, ed. Shlomo Simonsin (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1956), 15-20.
[5] See generally Don Harrán, Salamone Rossi:  Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999); Michelene Wandor, “Salamone Rossi, Judaism and the Musical Cannon,” European Judaism 35 (2002): 26-35; Peter Gradenwitz, The Music of Israel:  From the Biblical Era to Modern Times 2nd ed. (Portland: Amadeus Press, 1996), 145-58. 
The innovations of Rossi and Modena ended abruptly in the destruction of the Mantua Ghetto in 1630 and the dispersion of the Jewish community. The music was lost until the late 1800s when Chazzan Weintraub discovered it and began to distribute it once again.

[6] See Golb who questions this attribution and argues the reverse and also describes the earlier scholarship on Obadiah.  Golb, “The Music of Obadiah the Proselyte and his Conversion,” Journal of Jewish Studies 18: 43-46.
[7] Such ceremonies were not confined to Austria.  In Italy since the middle of the seventeenth century, special ceremonies for the dedication of synagogues had become commonplace.  See Gradenwitz, Music of Israel, 159-60.
[8] Jack Gotlieb, Funny, It Doesn’t Sound Jewish, (New York:  State University Press of New York, 2004), 17-18; see also Theodore Albrecht, “Beethoven’s Quotation of Kol Nerei in His String Quartet, op. 131:  A Circumstantial Case for Sherlock Holmes,” in I Will Sing and Make Music:  Jewish Music and Musicians Through the Ages, ed. Leonard Greenspoon (Nebraska:  Creighton University Press, 2008), 149-165. For more on the history of the synagogue see Max Grunwald, Vienna (Philadephia:  Jewish Publication Society of America, 1936), 205-21.
[9] R. Yisrael M’Sklov, Pat ha-Shulhan  (Sefat, 1836).
[10] See Mordechai Avraham Katz, “Be-Inyan Shirat Negunim ha-Moshrim etsel ha-Goyim,” Minhat ha-Kayits, 73-74.  However, some have refused to believe that any “tzadik” ever used such tunes.  Idem. 73. See also our earlier article discussing the use of non-Jewish tunes “Hatikvah, Shir HaMa’a lot, & Censorship.” 


Anim Zemorot: A Modern Purim Parody

Anim Zemorot:  A Modern Purim Parody
For many centuries, parodies have been part of the Purim literature (see this post discussing their history).  One particularly popular genre of Purim literature has been the fake tefila.  Perhaps the best-known collection is the “Kol Bo” (first printed in L’vov, 1855 – see I. Davidson, Parody in Jewish Literature, n. 191 discussing this work, and a later example here) which runs the gamut of Kiddush to Yetziv Pitgam (de-Lot mi-S’dom) and Mareh Haman to an elaborate Haggada (known as Leil Shikkorim) and even includes a collection of "Shu"t Le-Purim (which isn't recorded in Kuntres ha-Teshuvot).  A collection of these and other Purim works have been recently republished in Ve-Nahafokh Hu, ed. Dov Goldberger, 2. vol., (https://www.getit.co.il/BN_Direct/43804/).Elli Schorr has added his own contributions over the years to this venerable genre. In honor of his daughter's Bat Mitzva (this past Rosh Chodesh Adar), he published his works, as well as several of the “classics” and some by Rabbi Aharon Frazer, to flesh out a preliminary “machzor” for Purim, entitled אנעים זמורות.  (The title, like many of the lines in the machzor, is a play whereby a sacred text undergoes a minor spelling change to reference wine, or drinking, or levity, etc.)  One wishes, incidentally, that Schorr would have actually composed a faux אנעים זמירות to include in the “liturgy”.

For over a decade, Schorr has been sending Purim mailings, on an informal basis, to friends and family (and some have appeared on his blog, purim365.blogspot.com, albeit not a fulsome treatment). Most have been of the tefila genre, but others have included a parody of Aviviah Gottlieb Zornberg’s books on Chumash (co-authored with Chaim and Shari Saiman) and particular pieces that have focused more on current events or community politics than the timeless nature of the tefila parody.  Having written pieces that have been parodies of Shabbat, Pesach, Shavu’ot, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot liturgy, among others, there was enough material to print something that would be more of an anthology, across the Jewish calendar.  As he has developed more knowledge of the world of classical piyyut (largely owing to the tutelage of his neighbor, Prof. Avi Shmidman), he has also reworked older piyyutim to better reflect paytanic sensibilities.  For example, his old Tefilat Gefen (a takeoff on Geshem) was reworked this year to be an alphabetic acrostic, like the original Geshem.  Some of the rhyme scheme, though, was left imperfect, at the preference of a good punchline.

Some of the more recent works, such as ברכת המזון, a spoof of the special bentsching recited at a Brit Milah, are more faithful to the paytanic conventions of proper rhymes and meter and often include a חתימה מקראית where the last line of a stanza is a direct quote of a pasuk.  This may be the best example in the book of a parody of both the form and the content.  The stanzas are to a meter and rhyme identical to the original and, if sung with the nusach, sound authentic.  Additionally, the רשות asked at the beginning of the zimmun is turned on its head, and permission is asked of, inter alia, mamzerim, chalalim, and Haman’s children. The הרחמן section at the end turns both the blood covenant and the eschatological visions into dreams of a great, big, drunken Purim se’udah.Other pieces reappearing here, with minor varations (and many of them with nikkud for the first time, though with some errors in the preliminary draft edited here), are an akdamut retelling the story of Purim in faux Aramaic, Kabbalat Shabbat witha במה משתכרין nd כגוונא   both, a stream-of-consciousness Kiddush published by Professor J. Tabory attributed to his late father, Rabbi Zvi Tabory, and a מראה כהן  depicting a kohen having delivered a ruling regarding mareh nega’im, changing the meaning of the phrase mareh kohen.Several pieces make their first appearance in this addition.  The most ambitious is a parody of amitz koach (“mitz koach”, excerpted below) written according to the same poetic convention as the original (alphabetical acrostic, 5 words per each non-rhyming line) and, like many of the Yom kippur piyyutim, starts from the Creation and works its way to the main event. In this case, the event is not the Temple service, but is the Shushan chain of events.  Instead of the priests prostrating themselves, those in the king’s courtyard do so (when Haman passes by); instead of a goat tumbling down hill, drunkards are rolling away; instead of counting blood sprinkles, Haman’s sons (or, alternatively, glasses of wine drunk) are counted. Written with the sensibilities of a chazzan, ואף הוא היה מתכוון works well with Rosenblatt’s classic niggun for a duet.  Several smaller pieces, not bearing enough humorous content to stand alone, are included here as well.  One is a special nusakh inspired by last year’s Erev Pesach where, in one morning, we had bi’ur chametz, bi’ur of shevi’it wine, birkat ha-chammah, and siyyum for the first borns.  Another piece is a short “ushpizin” for Purim.  A parody of the prayer for the government (תפילה לשלום חמר המדינה) appears below, as does a special version of the trop for annoying people. (See below for a few examples.)

People interested in obtaining one of the remaining hard copies, should contact the author directly, at elli dot Schorr at gmail.



David Sassoon, Bibliophile Par Excellence

 David Sassoon,
Bibliophile Par Excellence
By Dr. Pearl Herzog
The article below is an annotated version
of an article that appeared in the Inyan Magazine of HaModia, dated July 16,
2014.

Harav Chaim Ozer Grodzinski addressed him as
“Hanaggid” (The Prince).[1] The Michtav MeEliyahu (Rabbi
Eliyahu Dessler) came to his home to privately tutor his only son.[2] Named
after his grandfather, the founder of the Sassoon dynasty, David Sassoon was an
outstanding Talmid Chochom, whose tremendous collection of sefarim and
manuscripts, on which he expended much time and money, has enhanced the study
of every branch of Torah to this day.  

Mumbai (formerly known as Bombay), the primary
port city in India is home to more than twelve million people. The city’s
largest fishing market is located at Sassoon Docks, one of the few docks open
to the public. It was the creation of Albert Sassoon, a member of the dynasty
known as the Rothschild’s of the East. who had built the Docks through land
reclamation (creating land out of the sea).[3] In 1869 when the Suez Canal
opened and merchant ships could travel between Europe and Asia without the need
to circumnavigate around Africa, it was imperative, in Albert Sassoon’s view,
that India have a dock for ships to load and unload goods. The government of
India which was initially against Albert’s plan, eventually realized the docks
cemented the future of India’s largest port and paid him a pretty penny for it
in addition to being eternally grateful.
Albert Sassoon, who was knighted by Queen
Victoria of England, was the son of David Sassoon, the founder of the Sassoon
dynasty who had laid the foundation in India, of a vast mercantile empire with
branches in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Turkey, Japan, Persia, and England, In the
words of a contemporary: “Silver, and gold, silks, gums and spices, opium,
cotton wool and wheat – whatever moved over land and sea felt the hand and bore
the mark of Sassoon and Company.”[4]
David Sassoon would always attribute his great
success to the fact that he would strictly observe the laws of Maaser.  David’s father Saleh Sassoon (mother Amam
Gabbai) was a wealthy businessman, chief treasurer to the pashas (the governors
of Baghdad) from 1781 to 1817 and leader of the city’s Jewish community.
Following increasing persecution of Baghdad’s Jews by Daud Pasha, the family
moved to Mumbai via Persia.
The Sasson family traced its Yichus back
to Shefatyah, the fifth son of Dovid HaMelech. When exiled to Spain the family
called itself Ibn Shoshana (son of a rose) which later became Ibn Sassoon (son
of Happiness).[5]
Magnanimous philanthropists, the family
supported many Torah institutions, built shuls, hospitals, Mikvaos and
helped employ many Jews.
Albert Sassoon was surprised one day when his 34
year old single half-brother Solomon Sassoon, expressed his interest in
marrying Albert’s granddaughter, Pircha (Flora) Gabbai. Solomon had been on a
business trip to China and had stopped for a business meeting at the Bombay
office. It was there he met for the first time his 17 year old great niece, and
was impressed with her knowledge of Hebrew, French, German, English, Hindustani
and Arabic as well as the fact that she had been taught Tanach and Yahadus
in private lessons given to her by Rabbonim.[6]
Albert loved the idea. The shidduch was
arranged and the couple had three children, two daughters Rachel and Mazel Tov
and their middle child, a son, David born to them in 1880. Shlomo and Flora’s
palatial home in Bombay was called Nepean Lodge and had a shul attached to it.
Considered the most Torah minded of the Sassoon brothers, Solomon would recite
all 150 perakim of Sefer Tehillim before leaving for his office every
day. Modest and unassuming, he served as a wonderful influence on his only son.
Young David astonished his parents one day when
at eight years old he traded his toy kite with a young boy for a rare printed
book containing an Arabic translation of the Book of Ruth that was written for
Baghdadi Jews who lived in India.[7] That trade was to be the first item in his
life long pursuit of collecting Jewish books and manuscripts. His interest in
collecting Seforim may have helped soften the pain of losing his father at the
tender age of 14. Solomon David passed away in 1894 leaving a young 35 year old
widow and three children, the youngest of whom was 10.
Because of his delicate health, young David’s
physician recommended that he live away from the city’s heat. Because of this
he spent most of the year at the family villas in Poona or Mahabeshwar,
studying Torah and having private lessons in Persian as well as other secular
subjects from a Munshi.[8]
Instead of being educated at Eton like his
Sassoon cousins, he was sent afterwards to a yeshiva in North London.
Although David learned to use a rifle as a
cadet, his poor health saved him from ever going to battle. Instead the navy
hired him to translate Hebrew and Arabic documents and decode messages
intercepted in the Middle East.
His mother had with her grandfather Albert’s
blessing, taken over her husband’s role in the business in India after he
passed away. But seven years later, when David had reached 21, she decided to
move to London where most of the Sassoon family had relocated.
David had developed into quite a Talmid Chochom
and had inherited his great love of seforim from his great grandfather Farji
Chaim Ben Abdullah Yosef whose large library of Seforim in Basra, Iraq had been
partly destroyed in 1775 by the invading Persians.[9] David decided to devote
his life to collecting Seforim. He explained in his Ohel David, a two volume
catalogue of his Seforim that he printed in 1931 that he assembled a huge
library because he wanted to observe the Mitzvah of writing or acquiring a
Sefer Torah by extending the mitzvah to include all religious literature:
Nevi’im, Kesuvim, Gemarah, etc.

David traveled extensively to Yemen, Germany,
Italy, Syria, China and the Himalayas seeking manuscripts and old Seforim. His
sister Rachel Ezra who by this time lived in Calcutta would alert him about
different valuable manuscripts in India, North Africa and China.[10] He would
also purchase items from the noted bookseller Rabbi David Frankel and from the
famous Orientalist Silvestre de Sacy.

David Sassoon spent ten years negotiating to buy
the Farchi Bible, a fourteenth century beautifully calligraphed and illuminated
Tanach which contained over 1000 pages and more than 350 illustrations. It took
seventeen years for Elisha Crescas of Provence to complete it, which he did in
1383. The name of the Bible is derived from the fact that it once belonged to
the wealthy Syrian Farchi family that had served as bankers and treasury
officials for the Turkish governors. Chaim Farchi, who was involved with Jazzar
Pasha in the defense of Acre against Napoleon in 1799 was the Sefer’s owner.
Almost two decades later, an orphan Muslim that Chaim Farchi helped raise and
get installed as a Turkish leader betrayed his wealthy Jewish benefactor. On
Erev Rosh Chodesh Elul (August, 1817), after having fasted all day, soldiers
suddenly entered his apartment and read him his death-warrant, [Chaim Farchi
was accused among other transgressions of building a shul higher than the
highest Mosque in Acre] and was executed.
The Farchi Bible then came into the possession
of the British Consul in Damascus and was only returned to the family a century
later. Unique about this Bible was that it contained the names of many Biblical
women that are not mentioned in the Torah but in Rabbinic writings such as the
names of the wives of Kayin, Hevel, Shet, Chanoch and Metushelach
etc.[11] It also contains the rules of Vocalization and Masoretic notes from
Ben Asher’s Dikdukei Ha’Teamim. The interesting illustrations which do
not show any human figures include Noah’s ark, the Mishkan and of the
city of Yericho with seven walls.
In 1902, a year after he moved to London with
his mother and sister, Dovid Sassoon purchased in Egypt several manuscripts
that had been discovered in the Cairo Geniza six years earlier. These
included an extremely early fragment of the Rambam’s Mishneh Torah which
contained the Rambam’s own glosses and Rabbi Saadiah Gaon’s Tafsir, a
Judeo-Arabic translation on Chumash Bamidbar.
The late Rabbi Dr. Tzi M. Rabinowicz, son of the
previous Biale Rebbe and author of more than 10 books including the Encyclopedia
of Hassidism visited the Sassoon 
library in 1966 and contributed an article at that time entitled “The
Sassoon Treasures” to Jewish Life magazine.[12] He stated that when visiting
the library of Rabbi Solomon David Sassoon, (David was no longer alive and the
library seems to have passed on to his son Shlomo) he thought of the pasuk
“Shal Naaleich me’al raglecha …. Put off thy shoes from off thy feet for the
place whereon thou standest is holy ground.” He describes it as the world’s
greatest private collection of priceless Sifrei Torah, incunabula, manuscripts
and unpublished writings that cover a period of nearly a thousand years. He
writes that a student of art can feast his eyes on exquisitely illuminated
manuscripts, Genizah fragments, Machzorim, Haggadoth, Ketuboth and important
documents.
David Sassoon wrote a diary in Hebrew entitled Massaei
Bavel[13] when he travelled in 1910 with his mother and sister Mazel Tov,
from Bombay to Basra stopping off at Baghdad.
The following is an English translation of an
excerpt of his dairy by Rabbi Aharon Bassous:
Tuesday Sept. 20
At 7:00 am we reached AL
Qurna where the Tigris and Euphrates unite. Tradition has it that the Garden of
Eden was here! We rested for 10 minutes. Continuing on our journey to Baghdad
we passed in the afternoon a building which is traditionally the grave of Ezra
HaSofer or Al Ezair in Arabic.
On the outside the grave
looks like the dome of a mosque and is covered with glazed blue tiles. We went
inside to visit. On entering the town we were in a large chamber leading to the
synagogue and grave. Before entering the building we were told to remove our
shoes. On top of the grave is a large tomb made from wood. Every Jewish visitor
lights a lamp and says: I am lighting this lamp in honor of our master Ezra the
scribe, after which he circles the grave and kisses it. Many give money for
someone to bless them at the grave. Even non-Jews, come there to pray.
Several days earlier he wrote that while in
Basra he was able to purchase some manuscripts but not old ones. One of them
called Megillat Paras was read every year on the 2nd day of Nisan because a of
great miracle that happened at Basra.
A very important acquisition David Sassoon made
in Sept. 1923 was the Diwan of Shmuel HaNagid which Oxford University Press
published with an introduction by Sasson in 1924. The manuscript which Sassoon
acquired in Aleppo (Aram Tzova), was copied in 1584-1585 by an Italian rabbi
Tam Ben Gedaliah ibn Yachya. It contained 1743 poems, of which 1500 were
previously unknown. In the manuscript is a poem about the earthquake and
eclipse of the year 1047 and a eulogy on the death of the Gaon Hai ben David
(939-1038) the last gaon of Pumbeditha.
In Cecil Roth: Historian Without Tears[14]
the late Irene Roth writes about  David
Sasson that he was a noted Hebraist and 
bibliophile and maintained a magnificent library of rare manuscripts
which was always open to her husband, the Oxford Historian. Incidentally Cecil
Roth, in his book “The Sassoon Dynasty,” calls David Sassoon a
scholar and writer of no mean distinction.
David Sasson also authored The History of the
Jews of Baghdad.[15]
In addition to constantly expanding his library
he would help his mother Flora answer thousands of letters from all over the
world requesting tzedkaka for Hachnasas Kallah, Yeshivos, Pidyon
Shevuyim, and other Jewish causes including requests to help print
seforim.[16]
In the sefer Ohr Elchonon its author A
Souraski,[17] writes that Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzinski sent a letter to the
Prince (Nagid) David Sassoon that he should organize in London a vaad  devoted 
to the selling of Osiyos for  a
Sefer Torah in commemoration of the late Chafetz Chaim.
David was married to Sarah Selina Prins, the
daughter of Moshe Meir Ben Rabbi Eliezer Lippman Prins, a diamond merchant and
Talmid Chochom from Amsterdam who also owned a magnificent library.
In the Sefer “Parnas LeDoro: Hitkatvut
Eliezer Lipman Prinz Im Chachmei Doro” by Meir Herskovics[18] a letter
by Rabbi Eliezer Prinz to his grandson David Sassoon, the son-in-law of his
eldest son Moshe, he writes that he has difficulty in understanding the
commentary of Ramban on Bereishis 2:9, because when he examined different
girsaos, a word was spelled differently and it is evident that the scribe made
an error. Could David please check his different manuscripts to determine the
correct girsa.

David Sasson was not
only a great Talmid Chochom himself but he hired Rabbi Eliyahu Dessler author
of Michtav Eliyahu to learn with his son Solomon in 1928 at the
suggestion of Dayan Shmuel Yitzchok Hillman. Rabbi Solomon Sassoon, who
continued in his father’s footsteps in collecting seforim, developed into a
great Talmid Chochom who turned down the Israeli government twice when it asked
him to serve as Sephardic Chief Rabbi of Israel.[19]

By the time David Sassoon passed away in 1942 he
had amassed about 1300 items in his library. Sadly the collection has been
dispersed sold at a number of Sotheby auctions, beginning with one in Zurich in
1975. A New York Times article[20] describing the fourth Sassoon manuscript
collection in 1994 states that in the past decade the sales were due to satisfy
the estate’s British tax obligations. Nevertheless, thanks to David Sassoon,
universities and libraries around the world can continue to enhance Jewish
scholarship through the efforts of David Sassoon. Yehi Zichro Mevorach.









































Notes:
[1]
Aaron Souraski, Ohr Elchanan , 
2, p. 74.
[2] Rosenblum, Jonathan, Rabbi Dessler: The
Life and Impact of Rabbi Eliyahu Eliezer Dessler, the Michtav Me’Eliyahu,
Mesorah Publications,  Artscroll 2000
NY.,  p 144.
[3] Roth, Cecil, The Sassoon Dynasty,
Robert Hale Limited, London, 1941 p. 80.
[4] Jackson, Stanley, The Sassoons, EP
Dutton Inc., NY 1968 p. 30.
[5] Ibid. page 2
[6] Breger, Jennifer, “Flora Sassoon”
entry in Jewish Women’s Archive.
[7] Jackson, p. 104. Also see Introduction to
Sotheby Catalogue “Seventy-Six important Hebrew and Samaritan Manuscripts
from the Library of the late David Solomon Sassoon,” London June 21, 1994
.The latter was the fifth Sotheby sale of manuscripts from the collection of
David Sassoon, the previous sales took place in Zurich 1975 and1978 and in New
York, in 1981 and 1984.
[8] Ibid. Jackson,  p.105.
[9] Rabinowicz, Harry, The Sassoon Treasures,
Jewish Life Jan.-Feb. 1966 p.45.
[10] Jackson, p.158.
[11] David Sassoon, Ohel David, Oxford
University Press, 1932, p. 6.
[12] Shevat-Adar 5726, Jan.-Feb. 1966 issue
pp.42-48.
[13] Information from his travel diary, was
incorporated later in his, A History of the Jews in Baghdad (Letchworth
1949) and this diary was later edited and published in Hebrew by M. Benayahu in
1955, after its author’s death (Massei Bavel, Jerusalem 1955).
[14] Cecil Roth: Historian without Tears
Sepher, Hermon Press, N.Y., 1982, p. 92
[15] See note 13
[16] See Nachalat Avot: Asufat Genazim MiBeit
Mishpachat Sassoon, for a treasure trove of letters soliticing Tzedokoh
from many Gedolim. This sefer includes Teshuvot, Michtavim Tefillot and
Minhagim and was published by Yad Samuel Franco, 5767, Machon “Ahavat
Shalom,” Yerushalayim.
[17] p. 74.
[18] pp. 411-415.
[19] Rav Dessler, pp 145-.146.

[20] Dec. 5, 1984, “Sassoon Judaica Sold at
Sotheby’s”.