The Physician-Ḥaver in Early Modern Italy: A Reunion of Long Forgotten “Friends”

The Physician-Ḥaver in Early Modern Italy: A Reunion of Long Forgotten “Friends”[1]
[2]לפרסומי מילתא ולזכר עולם כתבתי

Rabbi Edward Reichman, MD

Introduction

The Italian Early Modern Period is fertile ground for Jewish medical historical study. Its appeal lies partially in the rich lives and interests of the Jewish physicians beyond the practice of medicine alone. For example, historians have written about physician-poets[3] and physician-philosophers,[4] as well as physician-rabbis. Here I introduce a new category of hyphenated physicians that has escaped notice.

Throughout the millennia, Jewish physicians, in varying degrees, have attempted to maintain their connection to Torah learning and Jewish heritage.[5] This tradition continues to this day. Some advanced to higher levels of Torah study, with a select few even obtaining rabbinic ordination in addition to their medical degrees. These physician-rabbis have garnered the attention of scholars the likes of Holub,[6] Sergei[7]  Epstein,[8] Margalit,[9] Salah,[10] and Steinberg.[11]

Early Modern Italy seems to have provided particularly fertile soil for the nurturing and growth of the physician-rabbi, with a high percentage of members represented. This unique geographic and chronological synthesis of medicine and Torah learning is also reflected in an under-recognized phenomenon. There is yet another group of physicians from Early Modern Italy whose commitment to Torah study, albeit less advanced than rabbinic ordination, was formally recognized by the Jewish community. These physicians, or in some cases, soon-to-be physicians, obtained the prestigious degree of Ḥaver, a lower form of rabbinic ordination.[12]

Little attention has been paid to this not insignificant group of Jewish physicians in Italy who procured a Ḥaver certificate. During this period, the University of Padua was, with few exceptions, the primary place of attendance for university-trained Jewish physicians. Indeed, Modena and Morpurgo, who compiled a comprehensive biobibliography of all the Jewish medical graduates of Padua from 1617-1816, omit any reference whatsoever to graduates who obtained a Ḥaver degree.[13] They do however mention students who later obtained rabbinic ordination, such as Samson Morpurgo or Isaac Lampronti. I assume that they were simply unaware of these achievements rather than considering them too insignificant to include.

Here we bring together the Physician-Ḥaver alumni spanning over a century for a virtual reunion, in celebration of their accomplishments, which seem to have been insufficiently appreciated, if not forgotten, with the passage of time. Unsurprisingly, all our Physician Ḥaverim are also alumni of the University of Padua.

The Origin, Requirements and Benefits of a Ḥaver Degree

The term Ḥaver traces itself back to at least Mishnaic times, referring to one versed and punctilious in the observance of the Torah laws, such as tithing (trumah and ma’aser).[14] Later in history the Ḥaver title became associated with a lower form of rabbinic ordination for those capable of independent Torah study. This title was popular in Europe in the Early Modern Period, including Germany, Austria, Moravia, Poland, Lithuania and Italy.

We learn a number of aspects of the Ḥaver degree in various European cities from the local community archives. For example. certain aliyot, as well as designated haftarot for the Torah reading for both Shabbat and Yom Tov were reserved exclusively for those bearing the Ḥaver title. Age limits for obtaining the Ḥaver title were instituted by different communities. For example, in the Moravian city of Mehrin, the Ḥaver title could only be bestowed upon one who was married for at least two years. In Frankfurt on Main completion of the Yeshiva curriculum was required. In 1651, the community of Padua, where many of our Ḥaver degrees were issued, set specific age requirements for both the Ḥaver and Rabbinic degrees.[15] For unmarried men, the age requirement for Havrut was twenty-five and above, while for married men it was age twenty and above. Rabbinic ordination was restricted to those thirty and above irrespective of marital status.

As opposed to rabbinic ordination, for which there are requirements to master specific areas of practical Jewish law, including a large section of Shulhan Arukh, there does not appear to have been a uniform curriculum for the Ḥaver degree.[16] Each location designed its own program. The student would spend a period of time dedicated to Torah study and display basic competency, as well as character traits consistent with Torah values. Those deemed worthy would receive the title Ḥaver, typically bestowed by local rabbinic authorities, often in the presence of communal leaders (parnasim). While the title was intended as an honorific for religious purposes, such as when being called up to the Torah, it could be used at the bearer’s discretion. Some communities required maintenance of daily Torah learning upon receipt of the Ḥaver title.[17]

Our Ḥaverim

Below are the attendees at our first ever physician-Ḥaver alumni reunion. The participants span from the early 17th to the mid 18th centuries. We begin our event with a tribute to our Guest of Honor, Solomon Lustro, who received his Ḥaver degree on August 13, 1697. Lustro was an obvious choice for this distinction. Not only does he possess a well-preserved and most attractive Ḥaver certificate, but the day of his Ḥaver ceremony was momentous for other reasons and reflects the very nature of the physician-Ḥaver relationship. Moreover, the additional archival evidence related to his Ḥaver title represents a major source for identifying our alumni.

Guest of Honor
HeḤaver Shlomo ben Yitzhak ben Shimon Lustro (Solomon Lustro)
Below is the Ḥaver diploma for Solomon Lustro, dated 26 Av 5457.[18]

 

Solomon Lustro was a member of a prominent Italian family, a physician and graduate of the University of Padua Medical School, and an accomplished poet.[19] In an essay by the twentieth-century scholar Meir Benayahu on Avraham HaKohen of Zante and his famed circle of physician-poets in Padua (“lahakat ha-rofim ha-meshorerim be-Padova”) in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, Lustro is identified as one of the three core members, along with the leader, HaKohen, and Shabtai Marini,[20] both of whom also grace this list of physicians who obtained a Ḥaver degree.

Examples of Lustro’s poetry can be found in the National Library of Israel. There are also numerous congratulatory poems written by others in honor of Lustro’s medical graduation from Padua, as was the custom during this period.[20] We will have occasion to refer to them below.1

We possess the full record of the Ḥaver diploma issued to Solomon Lustro in neatly written and spaced cursive Hebrew, accompanied by decorative flourishes and interspersed with larger block letters for names or important terms. Would it not be for the fact that this document is bound along with the community archives of Padua, I would assume this was the presentation copy for Lustro himself. It does appear however that while many of the archive entries are written in informal cursive, some, including a number of our Ḥaver degrees, are written by professional scribes.

The Ḥaver diploma of Solomon Lustro contains an element not found in any other known Ḥaver certificate. While it is not the only one to include personal details of the recipient, it is nonetheless a unicum. Attention to the date provides a clue. In addition to the Hebrew calendar date, the Ḥaver diploma includes the secular date- August 13, 1697. The significance of this date is reflected in another archival document related to Lustro:

This document is also dated Tuesday August 13, 1697, though no Hebrew correlate is included. This is Solomon Lustro’s medical graduation record found in the archives of the University of Padua.[22] Lustro’s Ḥaver degree was granted on the very same day.

While an astute historian might possibly have noticed this from the concordance of dates on the two diplomas, the author of the Ḥaver text chose not to leave this to chance and seized the opportunity to explicitly and expansively note the co-incidence of events. The Ḥaver text includes direct mention of Lustro’s medical graduation and gives details of the ceremonial nature of the event. It appears that the Ḥaver was the earlier of “graduations” on that day.[23]

The text reads: We have heard with our ears that on this very day specifically he is to receive from the sages who are not from our nation

הלווריאה הגדולה

I believe this refers to the great Laurea, or graduation ceremony of the University of Padua. The author then speaks of the fanfare with trumpets and flutes and other instruments, with music filling every corner of the city and the ground trembling with excitement. He adds, “And they will shout long live the scholar Shlomo, long live the scholar Shlomo.”[24] I understand this to refer to the medical graduation festivities, as I do not believe this was customary for the Ḥaver ceremony.

Furthermore, the graduation day is referred to as:

ביום זה שהוא יום חתונתו ויום שמחת לבו דהוה ליה ביומא טבא דידיה

The medical graduation is compared to a wedding day, the day of rejoicing of his heart, akin to a holiday (yom tov). This wedding metaphor for the graduation is not unique to this document and (?as we will see) is found in the congratulatory poetry for Jewish medical graduates of Padua.

COMPARE text to Marini and others much of the text is standard

Lustro’s Ḥaver degree was bestowed by three of the prominent rabbinic figures in Padua- Rabbi Shimon Heilpron, Rabbi Dr. Yitzhak Hayyim Cantarini, himself a medical graduate of Padua (1664), and Rabbi Shmuel David Ottolenghi. Lay leaders of the community (parnasim) were also in attendance.[25]

We have additional archival documents corroborating Lustro’s Ḥaver degree. They come from an untapped source which we use for a number of our Physician-Ḥaver alumni in this contribution. Upon graduation from the University of Padua, it was not uncommon for students to receive congratulatory poems from fellow students, physicians, family members, rabbis, or mentors.[26] This practice spanned from at least the early seventeenth century into the early nineteenth century. While I have yet to do a comprehensive review of the extant congratulatory poems, I have thus far identified several poems wherein the graduate is referred to by the honorific, “heḤaver.”

Two of the congratulatory poems penned for Lustro refer to him as a Ḥaver. One was written by Avraham Paltiel Macchioro,[27] where the word Ḥaver is even bolded. The only extant copy of this poem is found in the British Library.[28]

It is perhaps no coincidence that the author who acknowledged Lustro’s Ḥaver degree, who was also a Padua medical graduate, was himself the recipient of a Ḥaver degree some years earlier (see below). Macchioro certainly appreciated the effort required to obtain such a distinction and intentionally chose to acknowledge it in the text of his poem.

A Congratulatory Poem for Two Graduations- The Only One of its Kind

The other poem for Lustro which mentions his Ḥaver degree is found only in manuscript,[29] and the author is tentatively identified as Moshe Heilpron.[30]

Similar to the text of Lustro’s Ḥaver diploma, we find here the wedding-related expressions about the graduation: the day of his wedding (יום חתונתו) and the day of the gladdening of his heart (יום שמחת לבו). [31] We find these expressions in other congratulatory poems for Jewish medical graduates as well.[32] However, there is something unique in this poem that appears in no other medical congratulatory poem. The author adds:

בחתונת בשמחת התורה

Heilpron refers to the wedding (and the associated happiness) with the Torah. Could this be a reference to Lustro’s receiving of his Ḥaver degree? While I have not come across any congratulatory poems written for one who received a Ḥaver degree, it is certainly conceivable that they exist, though likely uncommon. A congratulatory poem for both a medical and Ḥaver graduation which occurred on the same day would constitute a rarity to the extreme.

One poem for Lustro was authored by Shmuel David Ottolenghi, one the rabbinic signatories of his Ḥaver degree. It is housed in the British Library.[33]

While the letters חבר appear in the poem, the word does not bear the meaning of the rabbinic degree.

Perhaps it is a veiled allusion.

I have identified six other congratulatory poems for Lustro,[34] none of which use the Ḥaver honorific. I suggest that since Lustro received his Ḥaver degree literally on the day of his graduation, it is possible that either the poems were written earlier, prior to the day of graduation, and the day the Ḥaver ceremony, or that the authors were simply unaware of this other event in Lustro’s life.

Our Reunion Attendees

Lustro’s experience and archival records set the stage for the remainder of our reunion. Below we discuss the remaining Physician-Ḥaver alumni in attendance, arranged in chronological order by the date of their graduation from the University of Padua Medical School, as the date of the conferral of the Ḥaver degree is unknown for a number of our alumni. For each alumnus we list the date of their medical graduation from Padua (if known); the date of their Ḥaver degree (if known); the historical source confirming their receipt of a Ḥaver title; a copy of the archival record of their Ḥaver degree (if available); and brief biographical notes (if known).

1) HeḤaver Yehuda (family name unknown)
University of Padua Medical Degree: date unknown, circa early 1600’s
Date of Ḥaver Degree: date unknown
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: transcription found in miscellaneous manuscript of Solomon Marini[35]

This medical and Ḥaver graduate is identified only by his first name, Yehuda. Though we have no date for either Yehuda’s medical or Ḥaver graduation, he is likely the oldest of our alumni. Furthermore, we have Yehuda to thank for our Physician-Ḥaver reunion. It was through serendipity that I discovered a transcription of Yehuda’s Ḥaver diploma in a manuscript of the works of Rabbi Solomon Marini of Padua (1594-1670). In the text of the certificate only the recipient’s first name, Yehuda, appears, and the rabbinic granters of the degree are omitted. Yehuda is identified as a physician having trained at the University of Padua. I have more fully explored Yehuda’s identity elsewhere,[36] and have tentatively concluded it to be Yehuda de Lima, a scion of the de Lima medical dynasty in Poland. As the transcription is found in a manuscript attributed to Rabbi Solomon Marini, it is likely, though by no means certain, that the latter was the rabbi who bestowed the honor. It is this discovery of Yehuda’s Ḥaver transcription that led me to a closer look at the Physician-Ḥaver combination during this historical period.

2) HeḤaver David Morpurg
University of Padua Medical Degree: March 9, 1623[37]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: unknown
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: cited in contemporary scholarly literature.[38]

Morpurg graduated from Padua in 1623 and received the title of Ḥaver from Rabbi Leon da Modena. Da Modena had a significant relationship with a number of Padua medical students.[39] Though a resident of Padua during the plague of 1631, we have no record of Morpurg’s medical practice during these times.[40] His father Shemarya was a rabbi, and distributed funds to the poor during the plague, from which he succumbed. After the death of his father, Morpurg moved to Krakow, where he lived the rest of his life, practicing medicine and serving as a head of the Jewish community. In Krakow, Morpurg was engaged in regulating the work of the paramedical personnel in the Jewish district as well, including determining which practitioners were competent to perform enemas and bloodletting.[41] His son Shimon became a physician,[42] and the physician Aron Morpurg, another relative, graduated from Padua in 1671.[43]

3) HeḤaver Shabtai Hayyim Marini[44]
University of Padua Medical Degree: October 10, 1685
Date of Ḥaver Degree: 18 Kislev 5447- December 4, 1686
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[45]

Shabtai Hayyim Marini received the title of Ḥaver at the age of 24,[46] one year after his medical school graduation from Padua. It was granted by Rabbi Shimon Heilpron. Marini was one of few who went on to obtain his rabbinic ordination and was one the most prominent Italian personalities of his time.

Below is the record of his rabbinic ordination, also from the Padua Jewish community archives, from January 3, 1700.

Marini was one of the circle of physician-poets in Padua and translated Ovid’s Metamorphosis into Hebrew.[47] A number of Marinis graduated the University of Padua medical school.[48] As the names Solomon, Shabtai and Isaac repeat themselves across the generations of the Marini family, there remains confusion regarding precise familial relationships.

4) HeḤaver Avraham HaKohen miZante (Abram di Sabbato Sacerdote)
University of Padua Medical Degree: August 21, 1693[49]
Date of Ḥaver Degree- before 1693
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: congratulatory poem written in honor of his medical graduation.

Abram Sacerdote, also known as Avraham HaKohen, or Avraham miZante, was the first physician in his family and the first student from Zante to attend the medical school of Padua.[50] He was a prolific poet and a prominent figure and leader of the “lehakat harofim-hemeshorerim,” a group of physician-poets in Italy.[51] The other key members of this circle, Solomon Lustro and Shabtai Marini, both received Ḥaver degrees as well. HaKohen authored a volume of poetry on the Book of Psalms (Tehillim) entitled Kehunat Avraham (Venice, 1719) which contains his portrait on the title page.[52]

The source for his Ḥaver degree is gleaned from the congratulatory poem[53] authored by his medical and literary colleague, and our Guest of Honor, Solomon Lustro.[54] Therein, Lustro refers to HaKohen as ha-Ḥaver ha-Rofeh.

5) HeḤaver Rafael Rabeni[55]
University of Padua Medical Degree: May 10, 1696[56]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: November 19, 1698
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[57]

In addition to being a practicing physician, Rabeni was the secretary or scribe (sofer) of the Jewish community of Padua. He apparently ran a school for young men studying medicine, possibly similar to the that of Solomon Conegliano, which was designed to facilitate the transition of foreign Jews into the world of a major Italian university.[58] Rabeni learned medicine with Isaac Cantarini, the renowned rabbi-physician, and was acquainted as well as with Antonio Vallisneri, Professor of Medicine at the University of Padua. He engaged in a prolonged polemic with Biagio Garofalo on the nature of Biblical poetry[59] and the Protestant Hebraist Theophil Unger penned a letter of inquiry to him, though Rabeni died before receiving it.[60]

There is an erroneous mention of Rabeni obtaining rabbinic ordination at age 15,[61] but no mention by historians of his genuine Ḥaver degree, obtained at the age of forty-one, and published here for the first time. Rabeni’s degree, although granted the same day as two other physicians, Yosef Foah and Eliezer de Mordo, is entered into the archives as a postscript in a different and less formal hand.

The text of the entry explains why:

בליל הנ”ל ובועד הנ”ל הסכמנו לתת סמיכת החברות להחכם הרופא ר” רפאל רבינו דורש ברבים נודע בשערים שמו וסופר הקק”י ומרוב ענותנותו לא כתב שמו ולכן לפרסומי מילתא ולזכר עולם כתבתי אני שמו ויקרא מעלת החכם הרופא החבר ר” רפאל, בראש הקרואים= שמעון היילפרון

Rafael Rabeni was the scribe of the community and wrote some of the archive entries.[62] He himself received his Ḥaver degree on November 19, 1698, along with Foa and De Mordo (see below). Out of great humility, when he entered the proceedings of the Ḥaver ceremony into the community archives, he omitted his own name from among those who received a Ḥaver degree that day. The author of the postscript, Rabbi Shimon Heilpron, one of the rabbis who granted the degree, chose to rectify this omission and to include Rabeni’s name along with the other Ḥaver recipients to publicize, and as an “eternal memory,” that Rabeni also received a Ḥaver degree that day. As there are no entries by Rabeni in the archives in the following days, I wonder if he was even aware of Heilpron’s addition. Our inclusion of Rabeni in our reunion is due to Rabbi Heilpron, whose efforts over three hundred years ago are bearing fruits.

6) HeḤaver Yosef Foa
University of Padua Medical Degree: May 14, 1696[63]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: November 19, 1698
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[64]

There are many from the Foa family listed in Asher Salah’s comprehensive biobibliography, but alas, no Yosef.[65] Modena and Morpurgo spell the name Fua.

Foa’s ceremony was held together with de Mordo and Rabeni and the presiding rabbis were Rabbis Shimon Heipron, Rabbi Dr. Isaac Hayyim Cantarini and Rabbi Shmuel Dovid Ottolenghi, the same rabbis who bestowed Solomon Lustro’s Ḥaver degree.

7) HeḤaver Azriel Cantarini (Azriel ben Moshe Hayyim (ben Azriel) Katz min HaHazanim (Cantarini)
University of Padua Medical Degree: November 11, 1697[66]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: April 22, 1701
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[67]

Cantarini received his Ḥaver degree together with Cervo Marini.

Below is a reproduction of a congratulatory poem for Cantarini. The work is anonymous, and the author may possibly bear the acronym HaTORaH.[68] Cantarini is the author of a book on surgery dedicated to the famous scientist/physician, Antonio Vallisnieri.[69] Azriel’s relative, Isaac Cantarini, was close with Vallisnieri and consulted with him on a number of medical cases.[70]

This poem uses the expression “beyom simhat libo” (the day of the gladdening of his heart) to refer to graduation day, similar to the expression used in Lustro’s Ḥaver diploma and in other congratulatory poems.

8) HeḤaver Avraham Paltiel Macchioro
University of Padua Medical Degree: September 4, 1698[71]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: February 18, 1693
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[72]

A full record of Macchioro’s Ḥaver degree is found in the Padua Jewish Community Archives. He received his Ḥaver distinction years before the completion of his medical training.

9) HeḤaver Naftali (Cervo) Marini
University of Padua Medical Degree: September 4, 1698[73]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: April 22, 1701
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[74]

Naftali (Cervo) Marini is the brother of Shabtai Hayyim Marini and the son of the Ḥaver Yitzhak Marini. He received his Ḥaver degree in a ceremony along with Azriel Cantarini.

There is a congratulatory poem written for both for Marini and Isaac Pangalli,[75] who graduated Padua on the same day (September 4, 1698).[76] This is a rare example of one poem written for two graduates. The poem was authored by Shmuel David Ottolenghi. Ottolenghi granted the Ḥaver degree for a number of our alumni, and while the presiding rabbis are not listed for Marini’s Ḥaver degree (or for Cantarini), it is quite possible that he bestowed his degree as well. As the Ḥaver was granted a few years after Marini’s medical training, it would not have been mentioned by Ottolenghi in the text of the poem.

10) HeḤaver Maso di Michele (Della) Bella (Meir, son of Mikhael Alatrini)
University of Padua Medical Degree: December 30, 1698[77]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: April 23, 1701
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[78]

The Alatrini were called Della Bella in Italian. Michelin Della Bella (grandfather of Meir) was the one who rented the place used for the Sephardi synagogue in Padua, first in 1617 and again in 1629 after it was burnt down by a fire.[79]

11) HeḤaver Eliezer (Lazarus) de Mordo
University of Padua Medical Degree: May 21, 1699[80]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: November 19, 1698
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[81]

De Mordo received his Ḥaver degree along with Yosef Foah. Eliezer was the first of several members of the De Mordis (Mordo, De Mordio) family, hailing from the Island of Corfu, who would graduate from Padua’s medical school.[82] He has been confused with a later family member of the same name, Lazarus (the son of Shabtai) de Mordis (1744–1823), who was also a Padua medical graduate. There is a brief biography of Eliezer (Lazarus) de Mordo[83] which identifies him as a rabbi and physician in Corfu who authored poetry and prayers.[84] The approximate date given correlates with our graduate. De Mordo’s poems appear in the Harrison Miscellany (Corfu, Ca. 1720), which, in addition to its sixty full-page illustrations from the book of Genesis, consists of prayers, blessings, and poems for a wedding ceremony according to the custom of the Jews of Corfu.[85]

There is also reference to a Rabbi Eliezer de Mordo of Corfu, called a zaken ha-musmakh (learned elder), in a discussion published in 1755 about the propriety of singing the Shema prayer with a musical melody if it may lead to confusing the words of the sacred prayer. This is likely our graduate. As De Mordis was a poet and author of prayers for the liturgy, it follows that he would be consulted specifically on an issue related to music in the synagogue.[86] Eliezer De Mordis was also the signatory to a letter in 1751 attesting to the character of a Jew who appeared in Corfu and claimed to have repented from his former evil ways.[87]

Mordo’s medical diploma is extant and part of the Friedenwald Collection at the National Library of Israel.

Isaac Lustro, possibly Solomon’s father, served as a witness on Mordo’s diploma.

12) Shimshon Morpurgo
University of Padua Medical Degree: August 24, 1700[88]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: January 3, 1700
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[89]

The reference to Morpurgo’s Ḥaver degree is a postscript appended to the mention of the rabbinic ordination of Shabtai Marini (Padua, 1685) and occupies the last two lines of the section above.

Morpurgo’s Ḥaver was granted, like a number of his predecessors, by Rabbis Shimon Heipron, Rabbi Dr. Isaac Hayyim Cantarini and Rabbi Shmuel Dovid Ottolenghi. Morpurgo later received his rabbinic ordination from Rabbi Yehuda Briel and served as rabbi of Ancona for the latter part of his life. His responsa Shemesh Tzedakah were published posthumously by his son.

Morpurgo’s medical diploma is presently housed in the Italian Jewish Museum in Jerusalem.[90]

13) HeḤaver Moshe David Valle
University of Padua Medical Degree: October 22, 1713[91]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: September 20, 1725
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: Padua Jewish Community Archives[92]

Valle received his Ḥaver degree along with the young Moshe Hayyim Luzzatto and Isaiah Romanin, in 1725. One of the rabbis who granted this Ḥaver certificate to Valle was Shabtai Hayyim Marini, a Padua medical graduate (1685) and earlier recipient of a Ḥaver degree (see above), who later became a rabbi.

While Luzzatto matriculated at the University of Padua Medical School for three terms,[93] we have no record of his graduation as a physician. Valle was both a teacher and student of Luzzatto and was a great Torah scholar and prolific author in his own rite.

14) HeḤaver Mandolin Navarra (Menachem di Isacco)[94]
University of Padua Medical Degree: April 29, 1740[95]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: Before April 29, 1740
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: referred to as Ḥaver is congratulatory poetry written in honor of his medical graduation.

Navarra went on to become a rabbi as well as a mohel (ritual circumciser). Among those for whom he performed the rite were the children of Jacob Grassin Basilea and Raffael Ferrarese, both Padua medical graduates.[96]

The evidence for Navarra’s Ḥaver degree, like for Avraham haKohen miZante, is found in the text of the congratulatory poems written in honor of his Padua medical graduation. In Navarra’s case, I am aware of three such poems. As opposed to Lustro, where the title Ḥaver is found in only two of his nine known congratulatory poems, for Navarra, the title Ḥaver appears in all three of the known congratulatory poems in his honor. Two are reproduced below and one, mentioned by Roth, appears to be no longer extant.

15) HeḤaver Yitzhak Consigli
University of Padua Medical Degree: February 17, 1757[97]
Date of Ḥaver degree: unknown
Historical Record of the Ḥaver Degree: In a letter from Jerusalem dated 1782 there is mention of he-Ḥaver ha-Rofeh Ha-Muvhak Yitzhak Consigli.[98]

The title “muvhak,” loosely translated as “expert,” was likely reserved for those physicians who were university graduates.

There are three extant congratulatory poems written in honor of Consigli’s graduation, none of which mention his Ḥaver title. Perhaps he obtained the title after his graduation. One was authored by Moshe b. Yuda Ḥay Romanin, which was auctioned in Paris in 2006;[99] one in Italian, by an author with the initials M. D. L. R.;[100] one in manuscript of anonymous authorship.[101]

16) HeḤaver Menahem (Mandolin) Azzar
University of Padua Medical Degree: Surgical Degree 1764, Medical Degree 1778[102]
Date of Ḥaver Degree: unknown

In the synagogue of Corfu is a list held of piyyutim authored by different members of the community which were recited on a rotational basis. One of the authors is he-Ḥaver ha-Rofeh ha-Muvhak Menahem Azzar.[103] The title “muvhak,” loosely translated as “expert,” was likely reserved for those physicians who were university graduates.

The Columbia University Library possesses two documents for Azzar.[104] One appears to be an affirmation of his credentials in surgery from Corfu in 1761, along with a transfer letter addressed to the University of Padua. The second (pictured below) is a medical diploma from Padua dated 1778.

The University of Padua archives contains a record for a surgery license dated August 8, 1764:

Conclusion

This concludes our inaugural Physician-Ḥaver reunion. Thank you for joining. We boast seventeen alumni, a respectable showing for our first event, nine of whom graduated medical school between 1696-1700, roughly half the Jewish graduates from this period. Without the efforts of Rabbi Shimon Heiplron, we would not have even known to invite Rafael Rabeni.

As to the timing of the Ḥaver degrees and their relationship to the student’s medical training, it is possible that the students’ marital status played a factor. The typical student graduated medical school around the ages of twenty to twenty-two. If a student were married, he could obtain his Ḥaver either before or shortly after the completion of his medical training. If unmarried, however, he would have to wait at least until the age of twenty-five before receiving the title.

This phenomenon of the Physician-Ḥaver is yet further proof how over the centuries Jewish physicians have attempted to combine their medical practice with Torah learning. While with this preliminary study we begin to rectify the prior oversight of the Physician-Ḥaver combination, there will surely be additions to come, and I expect more attendees at our next reunion.

Addendum- Ḥaver Programs Today

The concept of a Ḥaver degree exists to this day in different forms and is a spiritual descendant of its Italian and German ancestors. Some decades ago, I participated in Rabbi J. David Bleich’s Ḥaver program at RIETS, tailored specifically to medical halakha. Rabbi Bleich, Shlit”a, also teaches a Ḥaver program in the field of law. This tailored, profession-specific Ḥaver learning curriculum is a modern iteration of the Ḥaver concept- a curriculum for the student with a serious interest in Torah learning but not interested, able, or yet ready to commit to a full rabbinic ordination program. Today, Yeshiva University has reconfigured its Ḥaver program and other similar programs, such as the popular Semichas Ḥaver program, have become popular.

[1] My profound thanks to Laura Roumani, who brought many of these Ḥaver records to my attention as she was reading through the Padua Jewish community archives. Laura was also instrumental in aiding in the deciphering of the 17th century Italian Hebrew cursive script. The Padua Jewish Community Archives have only very recently been digitized by the NLI and made widely available for study and research.
[2] See discussion of the Ḥaver degree of Rafael Rabeni below.
[3] Benayahu.
[4] See David B. Ruderman, Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery in Early Modern Europe (Yale University Press: New Haven, 1995).
[5] See, for example, Edward Reichman, “The Yeshiva Medical School: The Evolution of Educational Programs Combining Jewish Studies and Medical Training,” Tradition 51:3 (Summer 2019), 41-56.
[6] David Holub, Pardes David, 2 vols. (Vienna, 1880 and 1882).
[7] Menachem Mendel Leib Sergei, Meshiv Nefesh (Vilna, 1906).
[8] Rabbi Barukh Halevi Epstein, Mekor Barukh vol. 2 (Ram Publishers, Vilna, 1928), 1113-1130.
[9] David Margalit, Hakhmei Yisrael ke-Rofim (Jerusalem: Mosad HaRav Kook, 1962).
[10] Asher Salah, La République des Lettres: Rabbins, écrivains et medecins juifs en Italie au 18th siècle (Leiden: Brill, 2007).
[11] Avraham Steinberg, HaRefuah Ke-Halakhah 6 ,2nd edition (Jerusalem, 5782), 196-206.
[12] The term Ḥaver dates back to Mishnaic times and has multiple uses and meanings. For a select few of these physicians, the Ḥaver, typically granted to the younger student, was a steppingstone to the more advanced semicha or rabbinic ordination, often restricted to those of a greater age, but most sufficed with the Ḥaver degree alone. I am unsure if a Ḥaver degree was a requirement for the more advanced rabbinic ordination, akin, for example, to a master’s degree and a Ph.D.
[13] Abdelkader Modena and Edgardo Morpurgo, Medici E Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati E Licenziati Nell Universita Di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Bologna, 1967). (Heretofore referred to as M and M.)
[14] See Encyclopedia Judaica, s. v., “Ḥaver.” See also Bunim Tausig miMatersdorf, Minhagei HaKehilos in the environs of Bergenland-Austria (Jerusalem, 5765), 210-218, for a lengthy discussion of both the origin and evolution of the term Ḥaver, as well as a list of decrees from different European locations relating to its practice and application. I thank Rabbi Eliezer Brodt for the important reference. This source bears little mention of the Italian experience. Tausig also includes discussion of the introduction and history of the title “Moreinu,” (rabbinic ordination), a modified and diluted version of the original semiha. He cites Hatam Sofer H. M., 163 who notes that the titles “moreinu” and “Ḥaver” lack any talmudic origins and are later constructs of tenuous halakhic basis serving communal purposes.
[15] HM 3102 photo 811, folio 168b (for date Heshvan 5412-1651 and participants), photo 813 folio 169b decision 74 (for the decision).

ליל מש”ק ליל ראשון של ר”ח חשון התי”ב

הושמה פארטי מצד מעכ”ה שמכאן ולהבא לא יוכלו לתת סמיכה מחברות לשום אחד שאינו נשוי אשר לא יהיה מבן חמשה ועשרים שנה ומחמש ועשרים שנה ולמעלה ואם נשוי אשה יוכלו לתת סמיכה לו מחברות אם יהיה מבן עשרים שנה ומעשרים שנה ולמעלה, ולא יוכלו לתת סמיכה מרבנות לשום אחד אם לא יהיה מבן שלשים שנה ומשלשים שנה ולמעלה, ועל שאר מהפארטי על זה התקפה ובגבורתה תעמוד, ולא יוכלו לכשל פארטי זו אם לא יהיה נועד כל נועדי הקק”י חוץ משנים ושתשאר ע”פ שלשה רביעים מאשר ימצאו אז בועד. ונשאר ע”פ י”ז הן ח’ לאו

[16] The famous case of the non-Jew who received rabbinic ordination, was actually a Ḥaver degree. See Shimon Steinmetz, “On non-Jews with rabbinic ordination, real and imagined: some notes on Dr. Leiman’s post on Tychsen,” On the Main-line Blog (September 20, 2011), here.
[17] Taussig, 214-215.
[18] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photos 49-50, folios 21b-22a.
[19] For a brief bio and bibliography, see Salah n. 585, Benayahu, Avraham miZante 112-117, M and M, n. 133.
[20] Meir Benayahu, “Avraham HaKohen of Zante and the Group of Doctor-Poets in Padua” (Hebrew), Ha-Sifrut 26 (1978), 108-140.
[21] See E. Reichman, “How Jews of Yesteryear Celebrated Graduation from Medical School: Congratulatory Poems for Jewish Medical Graduates in the 17th and 18th Centuries- An Unrecognized Genre,” Seforim Blog (https://seforimblog.com), May 29, 2022.
[22]  CO. V. 285, c. 123 r. See M and M n. 133. I thank Filippo Valle for this photograph.
[23] The text begins with the word, “bayom,” “on the day of.” Some Ḥaver degrees were granted in the daytime, “bayom,” as is the case here, while others were bestowed in an evening ceremony and begin with the words, “baleilah hazeh.”
[24] Here is my transcription of this section:

וכל שכן כאשר באזנינו שמענו כלם כי בפרט היום דוקא ובעצם היום הזה עתיד הוא על פלא חריפא לקבל מאת מע’ החכמים מתא שלא מבני עמינו הלווריאה הגדולה הנהוגה ליתן לכל החכמים עד שבקהל רופאים היום ינוח ויען שבין כך ובין כךהיו מעלתיהם כלם נושאים ונותנים לתת לו כבוד והדר בכתרה של תורה בפתע פתאום כל ברמה נשמע אח”כ קול המולה גדולה בקלא דלא פסיק מכל פינה ופינה ברחוב העיר מחצוצרות וקול שופר בנבל וכנור מקול גדול ולא יסף נזדעזעו כלם והריעו ותקעו כל העם בכל רם חזק מאד ובפרט המון עם יחי החכם שלמה יחי החכם שלמה והעם ומרעים ומרננים אחריהם ומחללים בחליליהם ובשמחה גדולה ותבקע הארץ לקולם וישמעו גם הם ויאמרו מדוע קול הקריה הומה כזאת והביא (?והבינו והכירו) וידעו כי זו היא הבשורה שאמרו והשמחה היא שאמר הכתוב ולישרי לב שמחה וכששמעו בדבר אחר כל זה הסכימו כלם יחד באגודה א’ פה א’ ובשפה א’ ואמרו זה היום שקוינוהו מצאנו ראינו חובה לעצמנו לתת כבוד והדר להאי צורבא מרבנן ויותר ביום זה שהוא יום חתונתו ויום שמחת לבו דהוה ליה ביומא טבא דידיה כי הפיץ מעיינות חכמתו חוצה וברחובות בחוץ תרועה (?), ואם כן לכבוד ה’ ולתורתו הסכימו מעלותיהם כנף לפרוס גולתא דדהבא אצווריה דא(?) גברא ויאי(?) גולתיה ולעטרת תפארת בסמכה וחברות הסמיכוהו והכטירוהו ויהיה מן הסמוכים לעד לעולם ככל שאר כברייא(?) דילן עד שהלוך ילך ועלה יעלה ויגדל שמו כשם הגדולים אשל בארץ המה כי מובטחים מעלותהם וכלם כי קל חיש(?) יעלה ויבא מהרה ויבצבץ ויפרח כשושנה בחכמה ובינה בע”הו כחפצם וכחפץ וכל מע’ הוריו וכל אוהביו אכי”ר

[25] Shmuel Lustro, Avraham de Pase, and Yitzhak Mi-Marini.
[26] E. Reichman, “How Jews of Yesteryear Celebrated Graduation from Medical School: Congratulatory Poems for Jewish Medical Graduates in the 17th and 18th Centuries- An Unrecognized Genre,” Seforim Blog (https://seforimblog.com), May 29, 2022.
[27] M and M, n. 136. Modena and Morpurgo identify him with Abram di Isaac Macchioro. For more on Macchioro, see Benayahu, op. cit.
[28] The Oriental and India Office Collections, Shelfmark 1978.f.3.
[29] JTS Library Ms. 9027. A copy of the poem from JTS is digitized on the NLI website NLI film no. F40082, NLI system n. 990001116080205171-1, p. 326. I thank Laura Roumani for this reference.
[30] According to Laura Roumani, the heading of the poem says that the author is the brother-in-law of Yitzḥak Lustro, father of Solomon Lustro. In his note in Italian, Soave says that Yitzḥak Lustro married Dolcetta, daughter of Shelomoh Heilpron. According to Soave, Shelomoh Heilpron had a son named Moshe. The author should then be Moshe Heilpron. However, there are no cross-references to prove it.
[31] Below is my transcription of the poem:

צאינה וראינה בנות ציון במלך שלמה בעטרה שנתעטר היום יום חתונתו ושמחת לבו בחתונת בשמחת התורה והחכמה כאשר יצא ביד רמה הוכתר בכתר הפילוסופיה והרפואה בחקירות ודרישות הריאה כשמו כן חכמתו וכשלמה חכם הפליא בתכונתו ה”ה החכם החבר שלמה בן גיסי כרע כאח לי המפואר והנעלה כמה”ר יצחק לוסטרו ובכן באומרים לי בית החכמות נלך שמחתי ועל ידי שיר נאמן זה אליו שלחתי אהבתי ונפשי בנפשו קשורה בתורה וקול זמרה

הנה תורת אל(?) רפואת נפש
גבר שלמה זה בהוד עטרת
עתה לנו הורכב בטיט ורפש
רופא הלא נודע ברוב תפארת
דרש וחקר כל מחופש חפש
כחה וגם בזה ביד גוברת
מרפא לנו או לנשמה דוררשים
לבוא עניו(?) לא תהיו בששים

ויעלו האבר
בין כל אשר דת כח
גבר שלמה זה אנוש הגבר
זרח כאש דת למו
נודע ברוב תפארת
עלה עלי אנשי מרומי קדת(?)
השיב לכל שואל אשר קרהו
שם חק ומשפט לו ושם נסהו

[32] See Benayahu.
[33] The Oriental and India Office Collections, Shelfmark 1978.f.3. I thank Dr. Ilana Tahan for her assistance in identifying the location of this poem.
[34] See Edward Reichman, “Restoring the Luster of Solomon Lustro: Newly identified Congratulatory poems,” Forthcoming.
[35] Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary, Ms. 843, Catalogue Lutzki (L 710 Adler), Elkan Nathan Ms. 987, National Library of Israel System n. 990001130520205171. The manuscript is a miscellany of the writings of Solomon (Shlomo) Marini, including drafts and seed ideas for his sermons, among other items.
[36] Edward Reichman, “The Discovery of a Long Lost “Ḥaver”: A Previously Unknown Ḥaver diploma granted by Rabbi Solomon b. Isaac Marini (1594-1670) to a Medical Graduate of the University of Padua,” Koroth, in press.
[37] M and M, n. 11.
[38] S. Simonsohn, Zikne Yehuda (Mosad HaRav Kook: Jerusalem, 5716), 48. Simonsohn mentions the Ḥaver degree but does not provide a reference.
[39] See Edward Reichman, “Congratulatory Poems for Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua in the 17th and 18th Centuries,” forthcoming.
[40] For the role of Jewish medical graduates of the University of Padua in the Plague of 1631, see Edward Reichman, “From Graduation to Contagion,” Lehrhaus (thelehrhaus.com), September 8, 2020.
[41] For the full Latin text of Morpurg’s diploma, see, Majer Balaban, Historja Żydów w Krakowie i na Kazimierzu 1304-1868 (History of Jews in Kraków and Kazimierz), vol. I (Kraków, 1931), 560. I thank Dr. Andrew Zalusky for this reference, and for the additional information on David Morpurg’s practice in Krakow.
[42] N. M. Gelber, “History of Jewish Physicians in Poland in the 18th Century,” (Hebrew) in Y. Tirosh, ed., Shai li-Yeshayahu (Center for Culture of Poel ha-Mizrachi: Tel Aviv, 5716), 347-371, esp. 350.
[43] M and M, 31.
[44] M and M, n. 100. On Marini, see M. Benayahu, “Rabbi Avraham Ha-Kohen Mi-Zante U-Lahakat Ha-Rof ’im Ha-Meshorerim Be-Padova,” Ha-Sifrut 26 (1978): 108-40, esp. 110-111.
[45] Minute Books of the Council of the Jewish Community of Padua (years 1651-1692), Folio 262v. HM-3104 NLI 990041779800205171.
[46] I thank Laura Roumani for this information.
[47] See Laura Roumani, “Le Metamorfosi di Ovidio nella traduzione ebraica di Shabtai Hayyim Marini di Padova” [Ovid’s Metamorphoses translated into Hebrew by Shabtai Ḥayyim Marini from Padua] (PhD diss., University of Turin, 1992). See also L. Roumani, “The Legend of Daphne and Apollo in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Translated into Hebrew by Shabtai Ḥayyim Marini” [in Italian], Henoch (Turin University) 13 (1991): 319–335.
[48] Modena and Morpurgo, as well as the Jewish Encyclopedia (entry on Solomon Marini) claim that Shabtai Marini (1594-1685), Solomon’s brother, was a physician, though the university does not have record of his attendance. The Ḥaver discussed here is a later Shabtai Hayyim Marini and graduated Padua in 1685. Solomon’s brother Shabtai Marini (1594-1685) may have been Shabtai Hayyim’s grandfather.
[49] M and M, n. 121.
[50] Benayahu, 109.
[51] See Benayahu, “Avraham mi-Zante,” op. cit. On this author and poem, see especially, 115, 124-125.
[52] Sacerdote was 47 years old at the time of this portrait. See also, Salah, op. cit., p. 156-157, n. 227.
[53] JTS Library, Ms. 9027 V5:6.
[54] M and M, n. 133.
[55] For a bio of Rabeni, see Salah, n. 817; Francesca Bregoli, Biblical Poetry, Spinozist Hermeneutics, and Critical Scholarship: The polemical activities of Raffaele Rabeni in early eighteenth-century Italy,” Journal of Modern Jewish Studies 8:2 (2009), 173-198. The biographical information below derives from these sources.
[56] M and M, n. 128
[57] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 55, folio 24b.
[58] Bregoli, 175. On Conegliano and his school, see S. Kottek “Tuviya Cohen in Context,” in Kenneth Collins and Samuel Kottek, eds., Ma’ase Tuviya (Venice, 1708): Tuviya Cohen on Medicine and Science (Jerusalem: Muriel and Philip Berman Medical Library of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2021); Ruderman, Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery (cit. n. 3), 111–113. For more on the Conegliano family, see D. Kaufmann, Dr. Israel Conigliano (Budapest: Adolf Alkalay, 1895).
[59]  See Bregoli.
[60] S. D. Luzzatto, “Correspondence between C. Theophile Unger and Isaac Hayyim Cantarini,” (Hebrew) in Y. Blumenfeld, Otzar Nehmad 3 (Vienna, 1860), 128-149, esp, 128-131. See also Bregoli, op. cit., 175.
[61] See Salah, op. cit., n. 817.
[63] For example, see the community archive entry for the rabbinic ordination of Shabtai Marini mentioned above.
[63] M and M, n. 131.
[64] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 55, folio 25b.

Below is the transcription of the text:

ליל שלמחרתו יום ד’ י”ו כסליו התנ”ט

להרבות תורה ולהגדיל תושיה עדות ה’ נאמנה לכתם אופיו לא תסולה מפז ומפנינים יקרה נתוועדו מעל’ הרבנים והפרנסים יע”א ובתוכם מע” אהרון הכהן במקום נכנס מעלה והכתירו בכתר חברות התורה עץ חיים היא למחזיקים בה מע” הרופא יוסף פואה ומע” אליעזר מורדו מקורפו הבירה ובמקום שאמרו להתר התירו המצועה שמכאן ולהבא בכל דבר שבקדושה בשם חבר יהיה כל אחד מהם נקרא ולחבר באחדות גמורה אהל למודי התורה בזה דבר למחיה לא יבצר משמה ויעלם על רום המרכבה

כמהר”ר שמעון היילפרון, הרופא יצחק חי כהן מהחזנים, שמואל דוד אוטולינגי רבני עיר הזאת המהוללה

מע” כ”מ יצחק לוסטרו, גבריאל לאונציני, משולם היילפרון פרנסים

אהרון כ”ץ במקום נכנס

[65] See Nathan Koren, Jewish Physicians: A Biographical Index (Jerusalem: Israel Universities Press, 1973), 49.
[66] M and M, n. 135.
[67] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 69, folio 31b
[68] This copy is from the Valmadonna Trust, now in the NLI n. 990040718570205171.
[69] Chirurgia pratica accomodata all’uso scolaresco dedicata all’illustrissimo signor Antonio Vallisnieri … dal dottor Angelo q. Grassin Cantarini (Padova, 1715) There is a copy in the British Library, Identifier: System number: 001490104 Shelfmark(s): General Reference Collection 7482.g.25. UIN: BLL01001490104. This may be the only copy.
[70] See Bregoli, op. cit., 175 and 190 (n. 19).
[71] See Modena-Morpurgo, n. 136.
[72] From HM-3109, Minute book of the council of Padova (years 1692-1710).

HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 17-18, folio 6a-6b.
[73] M and M, n. 138.
[74] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 69, folio 32b.
[75] M and M, n. 137.
[76] JTS Library Ms. 9027 V5:22.
[77] M and M, n. 139.
[78] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 69, folio 32b.
[79] I thank Laura Roumani for this information.
[80] M and M, n. 141.

[8] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 55, folio 25b.
[82] See M and M, nos. 141, 213, 219, 220, 228, and 278.
[83] N. Y. ha-Kohen, Otsar ha-Gedolim Alufe Ya‘akov (Haifa, n.d.), 188, paragraph 673.
[84] See also Steinschneider’s Hebräische Bibliographie 21 (1881): 118 regarding the composition of a piyut (either by De Mordis or in his honor) with the acrostic Eliezer (in Hebrew). The text of one of the poems mentioned here, as well as additional acrostic poems by and for De Mordis, can be found in S. Bernstein, Piyutim u-Paitanim Ḥadashim me-ha-Tequfa ha-Bizantinit (collected from manuscripts of the maḥzor according to the custom of Corfu) (Jerusalem, 5701), 58, 59, and 71.
[85] This volume is housed in the Braginsky Collection BCB n. 67 (available online at the Braginskcollection.com). I thank Sharon Liberman Mintz for this reference.
[86] See Daniel Tirney, “Ikare ha-dalet tet” (the Hebrew letters correspond to the initials of the author), O. H., n. 4, p. 12. For more on De Mordo and this musical controversy, see S. Simonsohn, “Some Disputes on Music in the Synagogue in Pre-Reform Days,” Proceedings of the American Academy for Jewish Research 34 (1966), 99-110, esp. notes 31 and 53. I thank Sharon Liberman Mintz for this reference.
[87] See M. Benayahu, Ha-Yahasim she-ben Yehude Yavan li-Yehude Italya (Tel Aviv: Ha-Makhon le-Heker ha-Tefutsot, 5740), 283. There is additional information on De Mordis and his other family members in Salah, Le Republique des Lettres (cit. n. 27), 437–438.
[88] M and M, n. 147.
[89] HM 3109 NLI 990041779830205171 photo 61, folio 27b.
[90] For more on Morpurgo, see, Edward Reichman, “The Illustrated Life of an Illustrious Renaissance Jew: Rabbi Dr. Shimshon Morpurgo (1681-1740),” Seforim Blog (https://seforimblog.com), June 22, 2021.
[91] M and M, n. 184.
[92] Archivio della Comunità Ebraica di Padova, no. 13, p. 213. It was published in RMI 20 (1954), pp. 499-503 by Paolo Nissim.
[93] See Debra Glasberg Gail, Scientific Authority and Jewish Law in Early Modern Italy, Ph.D. Dissertation, Columbia University (2016), 127.
[94] On Navarra, see Cecil Roth, “Rabbi Menahem Navarra: His Life and Time 1717-1777. A Chapter in the History of the Jews of Verona,” Jewish Quarterly Review 15:4 (April, 1925), 427-466.
[95] M and M, n. 241.
[96] See Navarra’s circumcision ledger (1745-1783) at NLI system n. 990001857430205171. The original ledger is housed in the University of Leeds in the Cecil Roth Collection (MS Roth/208). The children of Basilea are listed at numbers 41 and 91, and the children of Ferrarese at numbers 116, 130 and 148.
[97] M and M, n. 267.
[98] Avraham ben Yaakov, Yerushalayim bein haHomot (Megilat Yuhsin), p. 367
[99] Tajan Judaica Auction House, June 27, 2006 (Paris).
[100] JTS Library Ms. 9027 V5:25.
[101] NLI, n. 990002098760205171, p. 33. I thank Laura Roumani for this reference and Dorit Gani of the NLI for her assistance in procuring a copy.
[102] M and M, n. 274.
[103] Otzar Yehudei Sefarad: Toldot Am Yisrael, p. 41.
[104] The following description appears in the Columbia University catalogue: Two diplomas for Menaḥem ben Natan Azar 1. Doctoral Diploma (September 28, 1778) for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy and Medicine of Menachem (Mandolino) Ben Natan Azzar from the University of Padova, “under Venetian authority,” with three signers. The main signer is Leopoldus Marcus Antonius Caldani Bononiensis (4 leaves, illuminated) — 2. Surgeon Diploma (April 1, 1761) of Menachem di Natan Azzar from the Colleges of Padua and Venice with four signers on behalf of the Venetian “Proveditor General,” Francesco Grimani (1 leaf).




The Origin of Ta‘anit Esther

The Origin of Ta‘anit Esther

By Mitchell First

Introduction

The origin of this fast has always been a mystery. A fast on the 13th of Adar is not mentioned in the Megillah. Nor is such a fast mentioned in Tannaitic or Amoraic literature. Megillat Ta‘anit, compiled in the first century C.E., includes the 13th of Adar as a day upon which Jews were prohibited from fasting. A widespread view today is that the fast arose as a post-Talmudic custom intended to commemorate the three days of fasting initiated by Esther in Nissan. There are Rishonim who take this approach.[1] But Geonic Babylonia is where the fast first arose and this approach is not expressed in any of the sources from Geonic Babylonia. Moreover, the statements in these sources are inconsistent with this approach. I am going to suggest an approach to the origin of the fast that is consistent with the material in the Babylonian Geonic sources.

I. The Earliest Sources That Refer To A Practice Of Fasting On The 13th

The earliest sources that refer to a practice of fasting on the 13th are the following: – One of the four she’iltot for Purim included in the She’iltot of R. Ahai Gaon, a work composed in 8th century Babylonia. – An anonymous Babylonian Geonic responsum that made its way into Midrash Tanhuma (Bereshit, sec. 3). (The discussion in this responsum and in the She’iltot is very similar.) – A responsum of R. Natronai, head of the academy at Sura from 857-865 C.E. This responsum refers to the fast as פורים תענית. [2] – The Siddur of R. Se‘adyah (882-942).[3] Here, the fast is referred to as אלמגלה צום (=the fast of the Megillah).[4] The Siddur of R. Se‘adyah was composed in Babylonia.[5] – An index to a collection of Babylonian Geonic responsa.[6] The compiler of the index recorded the first few words of each responsum. In our case, the compiler recorded: לנפול אנו רגילין באדר יוש יג[7] ובתענית. The responsum itself is no longer extant. The responsum itself is no longer extant. – A responsum addressed to R. Hai (d. 1038).[8] This responsum inquires whether, in the case of a hakhnasat kallah that occurs on a fast day such as the 13th of Adar, the one who makes the blessing on the kos of berakhah is permitted to drink. – An anonymous Babylonian Geonic responsum that includes the following statement: השני אדר של כי”ג מתענין נמי הראשון אדר של וי”ג.[9] II. Analysis According to Robert Brody, the four she’iltot for Purim were probably not in the original She’iltot when it left the hands of R. Ahai in the 8th century. They were authored in a later stage.[10] She’ilta #79, the one which refers to fasting on the 13th of Adar, is even more problematic than the other three. After the first few lines in Aramaic, the balance of this she’ilta is almost entirely in Hebrew, unlike the rest of the She’iltot. Careful comparison of she’ilta #79 with the Geonic responsum that made its way into Midrash Tanhuma suggests that the Geonic responsum is the earlier source.[11] It is reasonable to work with the assumption that this responsum dates from the eighth or ninth centuries. This responsum adopts a very unusual interpretation of the sections of the Mishnah at the beginning of Tractate Megillah. These sections permit villagers to fulfill their Megillah obligation on the 11th, 12th, or 13th of Adar, on yom ha-kenisah, under certain conditions. In the plain sense of these sections, yom ha-kenisah refers to Mondays and Thursdays, and the teaching is that the reading for the villagers is allowed to be advanced to these days when the villagers enter, or gather in, the cities. But in the interpretation adopted by the Geonic responsum, yom ha-kenisah means the fast of the 13th of Adar (= the day on which the Jews gather to fast). The reading for the villagers is allowed to be advanced because the date of the observance of the fast day is being advanced due to a prohibition to fast on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat that is being read into the Mishnah. In this interpretation, the advanced fast day is a day upon which the reading for the villagers is allowed. The Geonic responsum included in Midrash Tanhuma reads as follows: They asked: It was taught that the Megillah may be read on the 11th, 12th, 13th, 14th and 15th, but not earlier or later. R. Judah said that this rule is only in effect when the calendar is established by the testimony of witnesses and Israel dwells on its own land, but in our times…the Megillah can only be read on the proper date (=the 14th or 15th). Does the halakha follow the first opinion or does it follow R. Judah? They responded: According to both R. Judah and the first opinion, the Megillah can only be read on the proper date. The following is what the first opinion meant. Towns that were surrounded by walls at the time of Joshua son of Nun read on the 15th. Villages and cities read on the 14th, but villages may advance their reading to yom ha-kenisah. When the Mishnah taught that the Megillah may be read on the 11th, 12th, 13th, etc., that applied to one who is engaged in fasting, as it was taught at the end of the Mishnah: “but villages may advance their reading to yom ha-kenisah.” What is yom ha-kenisah? The day of gathering, as it is stated (Meg. 2a): The thirteenth was a day of gathering for all (Heb: yom[12] kehillah la-kol hiy), as it is written (Est. 9:1-2): “in the 12th month, the month of Adar, on its thirteenth day… the Jews gathered themselves (Heb: nikhalu) in their cities.” They gathered themselves and decreed a fast on the 13th of Adar. But the 14th was a holiday, as it is written (Est. 9:17) “and they rested on its 14th and made it a day of feasting and gladness.” In Shushan ha-birah, they only rested on the 15th. Therefore, Shushan and all walled towns read on the 15th and make that a festive day. When the Mishnah taught that “the Megillah may be read (on the 11th, 12th, 13th …)” that concerned one who is engaged in fasting, because it is forbidden to engage in fasting on shabbat. If the 14th falls on the first day of the week, it is forbidden to fast on shabbat. It is also forbidden to fast on ‘erev shabbat, because of the necessity of preparing for shabbat. Rather, the fast is advanced to Thursday, which is the 11th of Adar. If the 14th falls on shabbat, it is forbidden to fast on ‘erev shabbat because of the necessity of preparing for shabbat. The primary reason for a fast day is the recital of selihot and rahamim, and reciting these (instead of preparing for shabbat) will detract from honoring the shabbat. Honoring the shabbat is more important than a thousand fasts, for honoring the shabbat is a commandment from the Torah, while the fast is a rabbinic decree (Heb: ta‘anit de-rabbanan). The Torah commandment of honoring the shabbat takes precedence over the fast, a rabbinic decree. Hence the fast is advanced to Thursday, the 12th. If the 14th falls on ‘erev shabbat, the fast is observed on Thursday, which is the 13th. This is set forth in the Mishnah. How does this occur? If it falls on a Monday, villages and cities read that day and walled towns read the next day. If it falls on shabbat or the first day of the week, villages advance the reading to yom ha-kenisah, etc. But when the 9th of Av falls on shabbat, the fast is postponed until after shabbat, since this fast was instituted as a punishment. Therefore, the fast is postponed and not advanced. One of the cases discussed in the above responsum is the case of the 14th falling on shabbat. Almost certainly, this was not something still occuring at the time this responsum was composed.[13] This suggests, as does a close reading of the responsum, that the responsum is not describing a practice of fasting on the 13th that was occurring in its time. It is only interpreting M. Megillah 1:1-2, the ninth chapter of the book of Esther, and a statement in the Talmud (Meg. 2a: yod-gimmel zeman kehillah la-kol hiy), and describing a practice of fasting on the 13th that theoretically occurred in ancient times, according to the interpretations it was offering. The interpretation of yom ha-kenisah expressed in the Geonic responsum is far from its plain sense. If M. Megillah 1:1-2 was referring to the advancement of the reading to a fast day, the term we would expect it to use would be yom ha-ta‘anit. Moreover, M. Megillah 1:3 includes the following statement by R. Judah: “When [may the reading be advanced]? In a place where they enter (makom she-nikhnasin) on Monday and Thursday.” This strongly suggests that the term yom ha-kenisah at M. Megillah 1:1-2 refers to Mondays and Thursdays. Finally, an anonymous Talmudic discussion at Megillah 4a-b understands yom ha-kenisah as a reference to Mondays and Thursdays.[14] The interpretations expressed of Est. 9:1-2 and of the Talmudic statement yod-gimmel zeman kehillah la-kol hiy are far from plain sense interpretations as well. The critical question in determining the origin of the fast of the 13th of Adar is what motivated these unusual interpretations. Obviously, one possible motivation was an attempt to justify an existing practice to fast on the 13th. But I am going to suggest something entirely different that motivated these interpretations. Then we can understand the practice of fasting on the 13th as having originated as a consequence of the interpretations. As I mentioned, the responsum included in Midrash Tanhuma was from Babylonian Geonim, and it is reasonable to work with the assumption that it dates from the eighth or ninth centuries. As documented in my article, a major issue of halakha in this period was the permissibility of fasting on shabbat.[15] The unusual interpretations can be explained under the assumption that the authors were responding to and opposing contemporary practices of fasting on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat. Interpreting yom ha-kenisah the way they did enabled them to cite M. Megillah 1:1-2 as a source which prohibited fasting on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat. In their interpretation, the reading for the villagers is allowed to be advanced because the date of the observance of the fast day is being advanced, due to a prohibition to fast on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat that they were reading into the Mishnah. The practices that the authors of the unusual interpretations could have been responding to could have been: 1) the practice in Babylonia of fasting on the shabbat before Yom Kippur, 2) practices in Babylonia of fasting on shabbat as a form of repentance or piety, or by those whose ideal shabbat consisted of studying or praying all day, or by those who enjoyed fasting, or 3) practices of fasting on shabbat in Palestine in the above contexts. It is also possible that the main motivation of the authors of the unusual interpretations was opposition to a practice of fasting on ‘erev shabbat. I suggest that the unusual interpretations expressed in the Geonic responsum arose as a result of one or more of these polemical motivations. This led M. Megillah 1:1-2 to be interpreted to imply a prohibition to fast on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat. A new “tradition” about an ancient fast on the 13th of Adar was the result. One clue that the authors were responding to contemporary practices of fasting on shabbat and ‘erev shabbat is that the responsum includes a polemical line stressing the importance of honoring the shabbat: “honoring the shabbat is more important than a thousand fasts…”[16] The early 9th century polemical letter of Pirkoy ben Baboy uses almost the same language: “One who delights in one shabbat is greater than one who sacrifices a thousand sacrifices and (fasts) a thousand fasts.”[17] The main weakness with my approach to the origin of the fast is the argument that it is not likely that a Mishnah would be polemically interpreted to such an extent that the interpretation would result in the observance of a new (assumed to be ancient) fast day. My response is that those who authored the interpretation did not foresee that a new fast day would come be observed as a result of their interpretation. That the fast of the 13th of Adar did not arise as commemoration of the three days of fasting initiated by Esther is seen from the name for the fast day in the earliest sources. The responsum of R. Natronai is the earliest source that refers to the fast by a name, and it refers to the fast as Ta‘anit Purim. Of the four sources in the Geonic period from Babylonia and its environs that refer to the fast by a name, most likely none of them calls it Ta‘anit Esther.[18] When the Babylonian Geonic sources express or imply something about the origin of the fast, what is consistently expressed or implied is that the fast is a rabbinic obligation, and not merely a post-Talmudic custom. For example, the Geonic responsum included in Midrash Tanhuma refers to the fast as a de-rabbanan. Moreover, an anonymous Geonic responsum takes the position that, in a leap year, one fasts even on the 13th of the first Adar. Most likely, it takes this position because it views fasting on the 13th of Adar as an obligation, based on the interpretation of Est. chap. 9 expressed in the Geonic responsum included in Midrash Tanhuma. If it viewed the fast as a post-Talmudic custom meant to commemorate fasting that took place in Nissan, a fast on the 13th of the second Adar would almost certainly have been viewed as sufficient. In my article, I documented four sources that refer to a Palestinian practice of fasting three days (on a Monday-Thursday-Monday cycle) in Adar. These sources are: Massekhet Soferim (chaps. 17 and 21), and three other sources that have come to light from the Genizah. The Palestinian practice almost certainly was a commemoration of the three days of fasting initiated by Esther in Nissan.[19] That the Palestinian practice was understood as a commemoration of the three days of fasting initiated by Esther probably contributed to the name for the Babylonian fast of the 13th evolving into Ta‘anit Esther.[20]

 

This essay is a brief summary of my recent article that appeared in Mitchell First, “The Origin of Ta’anit Esther,” AJS Review 34:2 (November 2010): 309-351, and is adapted with the permission of Cambridge University Press.
[1] An early example is probably Maimonides. An erroneous period and vav (the vav of ובי”ג) made their way into the standard printed text of his Hilkhot Ta‘aniyyot 5:5, after the sixth word. (The necessary corrections have already been made in the Frankel edition.) The corrected text reads: המן בימי שהתענו לתענית זכר באדר בי”ג להתענות אלו בזמנים ישראל כל ונהגו (Est. 9:31) שנאמר דברי הצומות וזעקתם… Maimonides clearly states that the custom of fasting on the 13th is only of recent origin, and that it is a commemoration of a fast that took place in the time of Haman, i.e., in Nissan. Maimonides is forced to cite to Est. 9:31 because chapter 4 does not expressly state that the Jews of Shushan fasted in response to Esther’s request.
[2] Robert Brody, Teshuvot Rav Natronai Bar Hilai Ga’on, 303-04, responsum # 177.
[3] Siddur Rav Se‘adyah Ga’on, eds. Israel Davidson, Simhah Assaf, and Yissakhar Joel, 258 and 319-338.
[4] Ibid., 319.
[5] It was not composed in Palestine, where R. Se‘adyah lived earlier. Ibid., intro., 22-23.
[6] Louis Ginzberg, Geonica, vol. 2, 67-68.
[7] Ginzberg suggests that the correct reading is shel or yom.
[8] Shelomoh Wertheimer, Sefer Kohelet Shelomoh, 14.
[9] Louis Ginzberg, Ginzey Schechter, vol. 2, 136.
[10] Brody, Le-Toledot Nusah Ha-She’iltot, 186 n. 5, and The Geonim of Babylonia and the Shaping of Medieval Jewish Culture, 209 n. 29. Structurally, they are deficient as she’iltot. Also, there is some variation in the manuscripts with regard to their location in the work. This suggests that they were later additions, attemped to be integrated into an already fixed work.
[11] It is organized and concise, and seems to reflect an attempt to record an official interpretation of M. Megillah 1:1-2. She’ilta #79, on the other hand, seems to be taking for granted an already established explanation of M. Megillah 1:1-2 that it is reiterating and commenting upon.
[12] Megillah 2a and she’ilta #79 have zeman instead of yom.
[13] When the 14th of Adar falls on shabbat, the upcoming Yom Kippur would fall on Friday. Already in the time of R. Yose b. Bun (c. 300), the 14th of Adar was not being allowed to fall on shabbat or Monday, so that Yom Kippur would not fall on Friday or Sunday. See Y. Megillah 1:2 (70b), EJ 5:49, and Yosef Tabory, Mo‘adey Yisra’eil Bi-Tekufat Ha-Mishnah Ve-Ha-Talmud, 28. See also Rosh Ha-Shanah 20a. She’ilta #79 stated explicitly that the 14th of Adar no longer fell on shabbat in its time.
[14] The severe difficulties with interpreting yom ha-kenisah as the 13th of Adar are noted by many authorities. Interestingly, there exists a manuscript of Megillah 2a (NY-Columbia X 893 T141) in which this interpretation (taken from the She’iltot) is included on the Talmudic page. The statement included is: למכתב צריך ולא בעריהם נקהלו היהודים שנ׳ היא לכל קהילה זמן עשר שלשה אחא רב פיר׳ …לתענית ישראל בו שמתכנסין תענית יום דהוא It is therefore incorrect to state that the fast of the 13th of Adar is nowhere mentioned in the Talmud!
[15] See my article, 335-339. Much of the relevant material is found at Ozar Ha-Ge’onim, Yom Tov, secs. 41-49.
[16] The material in the Geonic responsum and in she’ilta #79 is very similar. But the passage “honoring the shabbat is more important than a thousand fasts” is found only in the Geonic responsum. The fact that the responsum does not illustrate seven scenarios, but only illustrates the scenarios of the 14th falling on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday, also suggests that the main motivation for its interpretations was related to shabbat and ‘erev shabbat.
[17] Ozar Ha-Ge’onim, Yom Tov, 20, sec. 41. This was a polemical letter written to the Jews of North Africa and Spain, instructing them that Palestinian customs should not be followed. Pirkoy, a Babylonian Jew, tells us that he was a disciple of someone named Rava who was a disciple of R. Yehudai. (R. Yehudai was head of the academy at Sura from approximately 757-761 C.E.) Pirkoy writes that many of the Palestinian customs originated as emergency measures during times of persecution, or were customs resulting from ignorance. It was only in Babylonia that accurate traditions were preserved. Among the Palestinian practices that Pirkoy criticizes was their practice of fasting on shabbat.
[18] The four are: R. Natronai, R. Se‘adyah, Al-Biruni, and the expanded version of Seder Parshiyyot Shel Yamim Tovim Ve-Haftarot Shelahen. R. Natronai refers to the fast as Ta‘anit Purim. R. Se‘adyah refers to the fast as אלמגלה צום. Al-Biruni, a Moslem scholar of Persian origin (writing in 1000 CE), calls the day “the fasting of Alburi” (Purim). Seder Parshiyyot probably dates from the late ninth or early tenth century. It includes a shortened version of the responsum of R. Natronai that had referred to the fast. There are only three manuscripts of the expanded version of Seder Parshiyyot, none of which was actually copied in Geonic Babylonia. Two of the manuscripts read Ta‘anit Esther, while one reads Ta‘anit Purim. Since R. Natronai’s original responsum read Ta‘anit Purim, it seems likely that the manuscript of Seder Parshiyyot that reflects this reading has preserved the original reading and that the other reading originated with a copyist altering the name to fit the name for the fast prevailing in his locale. Massekhet Soferim refers to sheloshet yemey zom Mordekhai ve-Esther. But the reference is to the Palestinian practice of fasting three days on a Monday-Thursday-Monday cycle. Massekhet Soferim was most likely composed in the 9th or 10th century, in a community under Palestinian influence, such as Italy or Byzantium. See Debra Reed Blank, “It’s Time to Take Another Look at at “Our Little Sister” Soferim: A Bibliographical Essay, JQR 90 (1999): 4 n. 10, and M. B. Lerner, “The External Tractates,” in The Literature of the Sages, ed. Shmuel Safrai, 399-400.
[19] This Palestinian practice may even have preceded the Babylonian practice of fasting on the 13th, although this cannot be proven.
[20] See my article, 333, n. 98. The fast of the 13th was already known in some areas as Ta‘anit Esther by the 11th century. Ibid., 332-333.



An Honest Account of a Contemporary Jewish Publishing Odyssey

In Your Anger, Please Mercifully Publish My Work:
An Honest Account of a Contemporary Jewish Publishing
Odyssey
by Dovid Bashevkin[1]
My recently published
sefer, “Berogez Racheim Tizkor” (trans: “In your anger, you shall remember to
have mercy”), whose title is based on the verse in Habbakuk 3:2 and
traditionally recited each morning during Tahanun, really began as a tweet. In
March 2014, I tweeted, “Considering writing a sefer entitled “Aveiros
K’Hilchisa.”

The tweet was originally
intended as a satire of the many seforim that have been published as halakhic
digests of obscure practical issues in Judaism.  If there could be an Ittush be-Halakhah (trans: “Sneezing in
Jewish Law,” – an actual pamphlet shown to me by my dear friend and devoted
consigliere Reb Menachem Butler), why not an “Aveiros K’Hilchisa”?[2]

However, as often
happens, what began as satire became a very real project.  Following the
passing of my Zaide, Mr. William Bashevkin, and last living grandparent, I
thought it would be a fitting tribute to their memory to publish a work of
Torah.  Additionally, coupling sorrow with joy, my marriage this past
year to Tova (née Flancbaum) gave me the inspiration to begin
my relationship with a project of Torah scholarship.  The sefer,
which is a small collection of essays discussing halakhic issues related to sin
and the path towards teshuva, is based upon shiurim I have had the opportunity
to deliver periodically at the Young Israel of Lawrence
Cedarhurst.  With special appreciation to Mr. Joel Mael, who originally invited
me and has been a continual source of guidance and counsel, the
chevra who have participated in the shiurim are really my partners in this
effort – without them, none of this would have been possible.
Nonetheless, publishing a sefer has historically, and
remains, an exercise marked with rabbinic ambivalence. As I note in the pesicha many great rabbinic figures
looked suspiciously at the growing trend of publication. The Chatam Sofer in
his Responsa Orach Chaim #208 famously considered those who publish works for
their own self-promotion to be in violation of the prohibition of writing down
Torah sh’Baal Peh, which, in his view, was only permissible if the work was
truly written with pure intention.[3]
Indeed, in a different response (vol. 6, #61), The Chatam Sofer laments the
overwhelming increase in seforim being published.
Why, then, publish a sefer?
This question, I believe, has added import in contemporary
society when the inclination for self-promotion and aggrandizement has
seemingly never been stronger. So, then, is the publication of a sefer just an
exercise in intellectual, albeit spiritual, vanity? This question has been
addressed by many, including on the pages on the Seforim blog, most notably by
Yaakov Rosenes in his post “Publish and Perish or Digital Death” (link).
What follows are my experiences and brief thoughts on the issue of seforim
publication.
Firstly, as Rabbi Yaakov Levitz, a noted seforim distributor
in Brooklyn, mentioned to me, the only thing that sells is “Soloveitchik,
stories and pictures.”[4]
No one should publish a sefer as a venture to make money. Aside from the
questionable motive, it just won’t work. The only works that have a faint
chance are those that will be purchased for Bar Mitzvah gifts. Other works that
deal with more scholarly or intricate Talmudic issues will have a hard time
even recouping the cost of publication.[5]
Financial investments aside, I published this work for three
reasons:
Firstly, as I mentioned earlier, the sefer is dedicated to
the memory of my grandparents and in honor of my marriage. Admittedly, these
reasons are rather self-centered. I do, however, think they are relatively
justifiable. While I grant that there are certainly less narcissistic ways of
memorializing or honoring loved ones, I do think that sharing Torah, when
possible, is appropriate. As Rabbi Hershel Schachter notes in the generous michtav bracha that he wrote to my
sefer, the greatest honor one can accord their ancestors is sharing Torah.
While the quality of the Torah may be questionable, I hope the honor it brings
to their memory is just the same.
Secondly, throughout the sefer, the works of Reb Zadok of
Lublin, who I had the opportunity to study under Professor Yaakov Elman at
Yeshiva University’s Bernard Revel Graduate School of Jewish Studies, and those
of Rav Yitzchok Hutner both feature prominently.[6]  I was
first introduced to the works of Reb Zadok of Lublin by Rabbi Dr. Ari Bergmann
of Lawrence, NY, and the door to Rav Yitzchok Hutner was kindly opened to me by
Rabbi Ari Waxman of Yeshivat Shaalvim. Those familiar with these thinkers
understand their relevance to the modern reader. Unfortunately, particularly
Reb Zadok and the larger school of his rebbe, Rabbi Mordechai Leiner of Izbica,
are often misunderstood and frequently misinterpreted.[7] My hope was
to develop my own creative ideas within their school of thought, while still
remaining loyal to the type of avodas
hashem
I think they hoped to engender. I don’t know if I was successful,
but I hope the sefer continues to bring the much needed attention these
thinkers deserve in contemporary times.
Lastly, the Kotzker Rebbe famously remarked, “All that is
thought should not be said, all that is said should not be written, all that is
written should not be published, and all that is published should not be read.”[8]
Undoubtedly, not everything in this work, or nearly any work, should have been
published. In some ways I am comforted by the saying of Reb Chaim Brisker that
even one valuable chiddush within an otherwise subpar work, can redeem an
entire sefer, as Rav Hershel Schachter observes in Nefesh Harav (1994), page 334. Parenthetically, in Rabbi
Schachter’s introduction to his later work, Ginat
Egoz
(2006), he shared a wonderful anecdote that after mentioning the
aforementioned saying of Reb Chaim during a shiur at Yeshivat Shaalvim, the
Rosh Yeshiva approached him and (jokingly?) said that his entire shiur was
worth hearing just because of that one story from Reb Chaim.
No one will like, enjoy, or appreciate everything in a
sefer, but I think the one insight that illuminates, explains or inspires
another makes the entire work worth it. And, as often happens in the course of
writing, the one who is inspired is the author himself. Rav Yaakov Yisrael
Kanievsky, The Steipler Gaon, often advised writing personal Torah ideas as a
means of cultivating a stronger relationship with Torah (for example, see his
collected letters, Karyana de-Igarta #41).
In fact, Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin had a special seder at the end of the day (at
10PM following a half-hour seder set to review the Rif) for students to write
and develop their own chiddushei Torah.[9] We are
willing to take risks in the pursuit of so many other goals, why not jeopardize
our precision and flawlessness by sharing more published Torah? While I admire
the Brisker allegiance to publishing perfection, I think many students have
missed the opportunity to kindle an excitement for Torah in others and
themselves by dwelling too much on their unworthiness in the endeavor. It only
takes one chiddush or one idea to make it worthwhile.
I knowingly may sound a bit too optimistic and/or forgiving
when it comes to seforim publication and am glad to be guilty of such. In fact,
it is the theme of my sefer. As I mentioned the title, Berogez Racheim Tizkor
is said during Tachanun. In Tachanun this line is followed by the verse in
Tehillim 123:3 which begins “Ki Hu Yada Yitzreinu.” Together these verses form
a meaningful plea – that though we invoke God’s anger, we request his mercy for
God knows our inner nature. Much of the work elaborates on that request.
Namely, how the limitations of our free-will relate to our shortfalls and
failures. The work discusses the halakhic and theological implications of sin
and the often inevitability of failure. The underlying message, I hope, is one
of comfort and optimism.
Here are some of the topics discussed in the sefer:
● The status of apostates
in Jewish law and thought;
● Do we always have the
free will to avoid sin? And, assuming they do exist, is repentance required for
such sins?;
● What should you wear to
a sin?;[10]
● If spiritual struggle is
redemptive, is it permissible to seek out situations of spiritual challenge?;
● The desultory
appearances of the mysterious personality “Geniva” in Tractate Gittin;
● A contextual analysis of
the Talmudic statement “A man doesn’t stand on words of Torah unless he fails
in them,” (Gittin 43a);
● The halakhic import of
granting someone forgiveness verbally, while internally still harboring
internal resentment;
● An analysis of issues
surrounding the concept of Averah Lishmah in contemporary times;
Additionally, the sefer is book-ended by two essays related
to Torah study in general, respectively considering the relationship between
Blessings on the Study of Torah HaTorah and the Blessing of the Kohanim, and
the role of Converts and Kohanim in the development of the Oral Law. Copies of
Berogez Racheim Tizkor are available for purchase at Biegeleisen in Boro Park,
and is currently available online here.
I hope Berogez Racheim Tizkor is read with the same measure
of mercy which, especially nowadays, is required of any sefer to be written.

[1] David Bashevkin is the
Director of Education at NCSY. He studied at Yeshivat Shaalvim, the Ner Israel
Rabbinical College and at Yeshiva University, where he completed a Master’s
degree in Polish Hassidut, focusing on the thought of Reb Zadok ha-Kohen of
Lublin, under the guidance of Professor Yaakov Elman. He is currently pursuing
a doctorate in Public Policy at the Milano School of International Affairs.
[2] Ittush be-Halakhah has previously been reviewed by David Assaf, “On
Sneezing in Jewish Law,” Oneg Shabbes (1
July 2012), available here;
and a mention in the infamous thirteenth footnote to Marc B. Shapiro,
“Concerning the Zohar and Other Matters,” the
Seforim blog
(29 August 2012), available here.
[3] As I also note, this is
in accordance with the more restrictive view of his Rebbe, R. Nathan Adler who
understood that the prohibition of writing down the Oral Law was not completely
abrogated and, in certain instances, remains in place even in contemporary
time; see Sdei Chemed, ma’arechet 4,
no. 22, for a longer halakhic discussion of his views. For an interesting
parallel, see Ignaz Goldziher, “The Writing Down of the Hadith,” in Muslim Studies, vol. 2 (London: George
Allen, 1971), 181-187.
[4] Rabbi Levitz’ most
(in)famous sefer that he distributed was, of course, Rabbi Nathan Kamenetsky’s
quite-celebrated and much-talked-about Making
of a Godol
in 2002. Though an improved edition of this work was published
in 2004 — with its “List of Improvements” detailed in volume two, pages
1427-1429 — Rabbi Levitz was not the distributor for the second volume.
[5] In terms of the cost of
publication there are two major expenditures: editing and printing. Editing
costs vary. For some is just gentle linguistic touch-ups and proofing, for
others the editor functions more as a ghost writer. I had the opportunity to
work with a brilliant editor, Rabbi Avshalom Gershi, who has worked on some of
the recent seforim of Rav Soloveitchik, most recently the first volume of his chiddushim on Gittin. Aside from his fair price, actually writing the sefer
yourself is a major cost-cutting initiative I would urge thrifty authors to
take. In terms of printing the price varies in terms of the amount of copies
published, the length of the work, and the quality of the page and cover. Since
my sefer is quite small and short and I eschewed editing that even bordered on
ghostwriting my costs were well under five thousand dollars. For others who
have larger works and print more than the industry minimum of five hundred
copies, the costs can rise into the tens of thousands. Hence, the rapid rise in
dedication pages.
[6] For Professor Elman’s
articles on Reb Zadok ha-Kohen of Lublin written over the past three decades,
see Yaakov Elman, “R. Zadok Hakohen on the History of Halakah,” Tradition 21:4 (Fall 1985): 1-26; Yaakov
Elman, “Reb Zadok Hakohen of Lublin on Prophecy in the Halakhic Process,” Jewish Law Association Studies 1 (1985):
1-16; Yaakov Elman, “The History of Gentile Wisdom According to R. Zadok
ha-Kohen of Lublin,” Journal of Jewish
Thought & Philosophy
3:1 (1993): 153-187; Yaakov Elman, “Progressive
Derash and Retrospective Peshat: Nonhalakhic Considerations in Talmud Torah,”
in Shalom Carmy, ed., Modern Scholarship
in the Study of Torah: Contributions and Limitations
(Northvale, NJ: Jason
Aronson, 1996), 227-87; and Yaakov Elman, “The Rebirth of Omnisignificant
Biblical Exegesis in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” Jewish Studies Internet Journal 2
(2003): 199-249; and Yaakov Elman, “Autonomy and its Discontents: A Meditation
on Pahad Yitshak,” Tradition 47:2
(Summer 2014): 7-40. For recent latest scholarship Rav Yitzchok Hutner, see
Shlomo Kasirer, “Repentance in the Thought of R. Isaac Hutner,” (PhD
dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2009; Hebrew).
On the occasion of the 110th yahrzeit of Reb Zadok ha-Kohen
of Lublin zy”a five years ago, I published a 5,000 word essay in Dovid
Bashevkin, “Perpetual Prophecy: An Intellectual Tribute to Reb Zadok ha-Kohen
of Lublin on his 110th Yahrzeit,” (with an appendix entitled: “The World as a
Book: Religious Polemic, Hasidei Ashkenaz, and the Thought of Reb Zadok,”), the Seforim blog (18 August 2010),
available here.
[7] I will be elaborating
on this theme in a forthcoming essay.
[8] On The Kotzker Rebbe’s
proverbs, see Yaakov Levinger, “The Authentic Sayings of Rabbi Menahem Mendel
of Kotzk,” Tarbiz 56:1 (1986):
109-135 (Hebrew); and Yaakov Levinger, “The Teachings of the Kotzker Rebbe
According to his Grandson R. Samuel Bernstein of Sochotchow,” Tarbiz 55:4 (1986): 413-431 (Hebrew).
[9] See Dovid Abraham
Mandelbaum, ed., Iggerot ve-Toledot
Rabbeinu Maharam Shapira mi-Lublin
(Bnei Brak, 2010), 125 (Hebrew), which
reproduces in full the daily schedule from Yeshivas Chachmei Lublin. For an
earlier scholarly essay, see Hillel Seidman, “Yeshiva Chachmei Lublin,” in
Samuel K. Mirsky, ed., Mosedot Torah
be-Europa: Jewish Institutions of Higher Learning in Europe
(New York,
1956), 393-413 (Hebrew).
[10] This chapter is an
expanded Hebrew version of Dovid Bashevkin, “What to Wear to a Sin,” Torah Musings (21 July 2013), available
here.



Concerning Athei Merahiq, Nasog Ahor, and the Ravia Mugrash, and More

Concerning Athei Merahiq, Nasog Ahor, and the Ravia Mugrash, and More

by Rabbi Avi Grossman

(The author would like to express his gratitude to those who supported the recent publication of his Haggadat Hapesah. Contact him at avrohom.grossman@gmail.com to obtain a copy. Parts of this post originally appeared here.)

Recently, I was privileged to be part of a fun-yet-esoteric discussion on matters of Hebrew grammar. First, some background: there is a grammatical phenomenon in Biblical Hebrew known as “nasog ahor,” literally, “stepped back.” In certain words that are accented on the last syllable but have an earlier syllable that is open, sometimes the accent is shifted to that earlier syllable if the proceeding, grammatically connected word is accented on one of its earlier syllables. Examples with which many are familiar include the blessing on the Torah, wherein the word בחר, when connected to the next word, BA-nu, becomes “a-sher BA-har BA-nu,” or the blessing on the bread, wherein the word would normally be ham-mo-TZI, but when connected to LE-hem, it becomes ham-MO-tzi LE-hem. 

The second is a phenomenon that is often a consequence of the first, and it is not well known at all. “Athei merahiq,” lit. “coming from afar,” is when a word ends with an open, unaccented syllable vowelized with a qamatz or segol and is joined to the proceeding word that is accented on the first syllable, placing a dagesh in the first letter of that latter word. The fact that the first word’s last syllable is unaccented may be due to the “stepped back” phenomenon described above, but not always. Examples that come to mind from recent Torah readings include Genesis 30:33, w’A-n’tha BI, in which the beth has a dagesh, and 31:12, O-seh LACH, in which the lamed has a dagesh.

While the nasog ahor phenomenon makes sense to me, and interestingly enough, has its parallels in spoken English, for instance, I do not understand the latter phenomenon, nor am I aware of any explanation among the various authorities. However, based on the theories I outline in my book, I can tolerate why this phenomenon of basically closing the final syllable of the first word would happen only with the segol or qamatz. The segol is a t’nu’a q’tana, a minor or short vowel, and the only t’nu’a q’tana that occurs in open, accented syllables that end words, making it more versatile than the patah, the only other short vowel that occurs in open or accented syllables, and because it does not have a natural semivowel at its end (the Y sound at the end of the long E and A sounds, or the W at the end of long O or U sounds), closing its syllable does not result in an unaccented consonant cluster, which, as explicated by Gesenius, is not allowed. As for the qamatz, it is the only t’nu’a g’dola, major or long vowel, that does not have a natural semivowel conclusion, and once again closing its syllable does not result in the formation of a consonant cluster, although this would then require us to explain why an ordinary qamatz is treated like the other major vowels if it is lacking this essential feature. 

Like every rule, athei merahiq has its exceptions. For example, we read A-sa LO in Genesis 37:3 , and in that case, the lamed should have a dagesh, but it does not, or in 1:5, QA-ra LAY-la, and once again the lamed should have a dagesh, but it does not. It seems that whenever a past tense, singular, masculine verb in the pa’al conjugation that ends with a silent hei or alef is accented on its first syllable, it does not place a dagesh at the beginning of the next word. I have not yet found an explanation as to why this class of verbs should not follow the athei merahiq rule, and it is quite surprising being that their female counterparts (words like קראה and עשתה, etc.) are sometimes accented on their first syllables and then follow the rule of athei merahiq.

Recently, Dr. Marc Shapiro, k’darko baqodesh and blogs, released another must-read article on the Seforim blog. In it he made the following point: 

In the ArtScroll siddur, p. 86 it reads:

ועל מאורי אור שעשית, יפארוך, סלה

There is a dagesh in the ס of סלה. This means that the comma after יפארוך is a mistake, as you cannot place a dagesh in this ס if preceded by a comma.

Dr. Shapiro’s assumptions in this matter are that the samech of sela receives a dagesh because of the athei merahiq rule, meaning that the previous word, y’fa-a-RU-cha, must be connected to it, and therefore it would be wrong to have a comma between the words. If there were a comma, then the samech would not receive a dagesh. It is then that I took issue with his argument, and wrote the following to him:

Actually you can have a dagesh. For example, אַ֭שְׁרֵי יֽוֹשְׁבֵ֣י בֵיתֶ֑ךָ    ע֝֗וֹד יְֽהַלְל֥וּךָ סֶּֽלָה.

This is a well-known verse from the Psalms. 

Now, you might be initially inclined to dismiss this example, as in this case, sela is connected to the previous word by the trop, but the truth is that in the Sifrei Emeth, what would normally be a mercha tip’ha (pause) siluq succession (in the other 24 books), does not and cannot exist when the word with the siluq is less than three whole syllables (or when accented before the last syllable, four whole syllables). Instead, what would be the tip’ha, the mafsiq, becomes the m’shareth of the siluq. For example, in Chronicles we have this well-known verse

 הוֹד֤וּ לַֽיהוָה֙ כִּ֣י ט֔וֹב כִּ֥י לְעוֹלָ֖ם חַסְדּֽוֹ׃

But in the Psalms, because the word hasdo only has two syllables, the last three words are all connected, and hasdo is connected to the previous word: 

:הוֹד֣וּ לַֽיהוָ֣ה כִּי־ט֑וֹב    כִּ֖י לְעוֹלָ֣ם חַסְדּֽוֹ

The trop of the word ki is not the tip’ha-mafsiq that exists in the other books, rather, it is also a m’shareth:

This happens to also hold true for the etnah in Sifrei Emeth, which, according to R’ Breuer, and as you can see from this example, has the weight of a zaqef of the other books, and also converts its mafsiq mishneh into a m’shareth when the word with the etnah is “short.” I have yet to figure out why this is. So, for example, if the verse lha’alot ner (mafsik) tamid were to be in Psalms, it would just be lha’alot ner tamid. Or the verse nagila w’nism’ha vo. In the Torah, it would have been nagila w’nism’ha (pause) Bo, but because bo is a short word, it is automatically connected to the previous. Every time the word sela appears at the end of a verse, it must be connected to the previous word, even if in context, the mafsiq that was supposed to be right before it would indicate the highest grammatical disjunction. For example, in the above verse, if sela were not there, it would be read “ashrei (pause) yosh’vei veithecha; od, y’hal’lucha (full stop).” And the same is true for basically every verse in Psalms that ends with sela

 :יְהוָ֣ה צְבָא֣וֹת עִמָּ֑נוּ    מִשְׂגָּֽב־לָ֨נוּ אֱלֹהֵ֖י יַֽעֲקֹ֣ב סֶֽלָה

Logically, according to our accepted use of commas, all of those verses should have a comma, or perhaps even a period, right after the penultimate word. “The Lord of Hosts is with us; Our stronghold is the God of Jacob. Sela!” Yet, here sela is once again connected to the previous word. 

So yes, if “m’orei or she’asita, y’faarucha, sela” were a verse in Psalms, the last two words would be connected (because y’fa’arucha is accented on an early syllable and ends with a qamatz) and the samech would have a dagesh.

Dr. Shapiro had some follow up questions: 

I see that you are assuming that a tipcha equals a comma (and let’s assume we are dealing with Tehillim). Leaving aside the issue of since when do siddurim insert commas before words like they did before סלה? I have not seen that anywhere. But is a tipcha really a comma?

He also complimented me, and I wrote the following response to him:

The answer is that tip’ha is sometimes a comma. The rule in the 21 ordinary books of scripture is that tip’ha is the mafsiq before the siluq. Every verse in those books has at the very least a siluq and a tip’ha.

This needs to be clarified. There are probably only a few dozen or so verses wherein the last mafsiq before the siluq is an ethnah, but in those cases, the ethnah is preceded by a tip’ha

However, the objective value of the tip’ha depends on the entire context of the particular verse. In a short verse, like “Adam Sheth Enosh” (I Chronicles 1:1) it corresponds to absolutely no punctuation. In וַיָּ֥זֶד יַֽעֲקֹ֖ב נָזִ֑יד וַיָּבֹ֥א עֵשָׂ֛ו מִן־הַשָּׂדֶ֖ה וְה֥וּא עָיֵֽף׃, the second tip’ha has the value of what we would call a comma, while the first tip’ha (under Yaakov) [does not.] If the word sela would ever end any verse in the 21 books, it would be preceded by a tip’ha, by definition, or perhaps the even stronger ethnah, and then you would have to examine the verse’s context and meaning to determine what ever mafsiqim are featured. As you know, in some verses, there aren’t even zaqefim, let alone etnahim, before the tip’ha, e.g.  וְהָי֞וּ הַדְּבָרִ֣ים הָאֵ֗לֶּה אֲשֶׁ֨ר אָֽנֹכִ֧י מְצַוְּךָ֛ הַיּ֖וֹם עַל־לְבָבֶֽךָ׃

In contrast, the verses in Sifrei Emeth have almost half a dozen ways of ending! Some have a ravia mugrash where the tip’ha would be, some turn the final ravia into a m’shareth (like the examples I showed you earlier), and some have a string of m’shar’thim with no mafsiqim, once again due to the shortness of all the words:  עֵֽינֵי־כֹ֭ל אֵלֶ֣יךָ יְשַׂבֵּ֑רוּ וְאַתָּ֤ה נֽוֹתֵן־לָהֶ֖ם אֶת־אָכְלָ֣ם בְּעִתּֽוֹ׃

My guess is that this has something to do with certain musical rules. 

The sages noted that the verses of Sifrei Emeth tend to be shorter than the verses in the rest of the Bible. I would also add that after careful analysis, including a thorough comparison of the verses and passages that appear in both (David’s victory song, for example), the verses of Emeth tend to have less mafsiqim. I would really like to find someone with whom to work to understand these phenomena, but alas, I immigrated to Israel after R’ Breuer and R’ Kappah left us.

Therefore, in answer to your question, I insert the comma because that is how the verse is to be understood when translated, and that is how the English language and modern Hebrew work, but in the scriptural form, the laws of grammar/music dictate that the pause be subsumed due to the shortness of the word. My belief is that the siddur makers should always leave in the trop where ever possible, but certain liturgies are not biblical, and therefore the siddur makers try to help the reader by adding our Western conventions. 

(75:4 is also a perfect example, by the way: נְֽמֹגִ֗ים אֶ֥רֶץ וְכׇל־יֹשְׁבֶ֑יהָ

  אָנֹכִ֨י תִכַּ֖נְתִּי עַמּוּדֶ֣יהָ סֶּֽלָה

If we were to parse this verse using modern commas and periods, the period would be before the word sela. And that is how, for example, the JPS 1917 has it.)

Consider: How should one say “al tig’u bimshihai“? In Chronicles, there is a disjunctive pashta on the first word, leaving the dagesh in the following beth, but in the Psalms, tig’u has a conjunctive mercha, making the next word “vimshihai.” Or “Lo tirtsah, lo tinaf.” When read with one set of trop, the tavim are strong, while when read with the other set, the tavim are weak. When you are speaking or lecturing, or perhaps reciting those verses as part of your prayers but not as part of whole paragraphs, which set of trop do you use? I have no answer at the moment. But this doubt must exist when the liturgy adds sela to the end of a sentence. Do we read it as though it were one of the Psalms?

In the three books of Emeth, there are many verses that conclude with a series of connected words, whereas in the other books, such a series would demand a number of mafsiqim preceding the end of the verse. However, with regards to the beginnings of verses, the opposite is true, when we deal with unusually long words. In the books of Emeth, the tendency is to have more mafsiqim, whereas in the other books, there are sequences of many connected words, usually leading into the flourishing mafsiqim of the fourth level, pazer, t’lisha, gershayim, etc. This might have something to do with those flourishes. Because the books of Emeth are more musical, the flourishes tend to be at the ends, so that would allow for more conjunctives, whereas in the other books, the flourishes and conjunctives are concentrated at the beginnings of verses.

… 

There is much to be said about the ravia mugrash (the trop that marks words such this: נַ֝פְשִׁ֗י,) one of the most common disjunctives found before the conclusion of verses in the books of Emeth. Most often, it does fill the role of the tip’ha found before the conclusion of the vast majority of verses in the rest of the Bible, but not always.

The zaqef gadol that occurs on “long” words that, due to their lack of an open syllable that is not accentable, can not receive a secondary accent (ta’am mishneh) is represented by the ordinary symbol for the zaqef qaton and another symbol, called a m’thiga, the symbol that normally represents the qadma or pashta, placed above the second letter of the word. Together, these two symbols signify the zaqef gadol, and not, as many believe, that the word is actually hosting both the accent of the zaqef and the secondary accent of the pashta/qadma. An illustration: לְזַ֨רְעֲךָ֔. In this case, all of the accents and musical notes should be placed on the final syllable, and no accent whatsoever is put on the first syllable, zar, the one under the m’thiga. Many are misled by the m’thiga, and it is unfortunate.

The ravia mugrash is similar to this type of zaqef gadol in that it is represented by the combination of two symbols, in this case the common ravia above the accented syllable plus another symbol, the one that normally represents the geresh, above the first letter of the word. Once again, these two symbols combine to form one unified symbol, and the presence of the geresh symbol on the first letter does not indicate secondary accentage. However, there are a number of cases in which a single word does have multiple trops, and the lesser of the two does indicate a secondary accent, for example, in words that have a munah and a zaqef qaton, or both qadma and azla (geresh), or, in rare cases, a tip’ha and an ethnah (Numbers 28:26) or the like on exceptionally long words. 

The ravia mugrash most often appears toward the end of a verse when what follows is a “long” word, or at least two words. Generally speaking, a “long” word is one that has three full syllables, whereas two words will do the trick even if combined they only have two full syllables. When discussing post-talmudic Hebrew poetry, the terms t’nu’a (lit., a “movement”) and yathed (lit., a “peg”) are used to describe the two types of syllables that can be formed in Hebrew. The former refers to a pure syllable, whether closed by a consonantal sound or not, while the latter refers to a pure syllable preceded by the sound of a consonant marked with a sh’wa na‘* (or a guttural letter vowelized with some sort of hataf vowel, which are types of sh’wa na’.). For the purposes of Emeth, both t’nu’oth and y’thedoth are (often literally) counted as syllables, whereas in the other books of the Bible, there are cases in which this categorical lumping is not admitted. (In later Hebrew terminology, including modern Hebrew, t’nu’a is also the word for a vowel sound, with the connection being that every syllable has but one vowel sound, with options for consonantal sounds to both precede and follow the vowel.) Rabbi Meir Mazuz uses this piyut as an example for beginners:

adon (yathed, as the alef is vowelized with a hataf patah) ‘o-lam (two t’nu’oth, pure syllables) asher (yathed) ma-lach (two t’nu’oth)…

These definitions of syllables are entirely unlike the ones with which we are familiar from our spoken languages. Indeed, we must also keep in mind that throughout the Bible, words connected by maqqafim (hyphen-like symbols) are, for all of our grammatical intents and purposes, considered as one word. Whether a compound noun, adjective, or adverb is “hyphenated” into one compound word or not is a delicate syntactical matter, and sometimes both forms appear in a single verse. 

In a particular verse, if there is only one word (according to our liberal definition) after the word that can potentially receive the ravia mugrash, in order for the ravia mugrash to appear, that ultimate word must, as we have said, have at least three syllables. Therefore, the following are not considered syllables:

  1. Any syllable that may be after the accented syllable. That is, in words accented mil’eil, before the last syllable, the latter syllables do not count. Thus, words like KE-sef and ME-lech are considered monosyllabic for our purposes, while huq-QE-cha, and yag-GI-du are merely disyllabic. 
  2. Similarly, the patah g’nuva necessitated by the combination of long vowels closed with final guttural consonants also does not count as a syllable: ya-REI-ah and ma-NO-a’ only have two syllables for our purposes, while Noah is a monosyllabic name.
  3. Any letter vowelized with a sh’wa na’ or hataf vowel also does not form a countable syllable. Therefore, words like l’o-LAM only have two syllables. In poetry terms, both y’thedoth and t’nu’oth count as only one syllable each. 
  4. When a prefix waw with a sh’wa is converted to a shuruq because it precedes a labial letter, and therefore seemingly forms a third syllable, it still does not count, and it is viewed as though it remained a waw with a sh’wa na’. Examples: u-va-A-retz  (Psalms 113:6) and u-vi-NA (Proverbs 23:23) are both still considered as disyllabic, the former because the last syllable is after the accented syllable. (When the prefix waw becomes a shuruq because the first letter of the word is vowelized with a sh’wa, in most cases a new, countable syllable is formed with the original first letter, e.g., וּשְמוֹ ush-MO or וּבְיוֹם uv-YOM, and in some exceptional cases recorded in the masora, the waw/shuruq forms its own syllable, and the subsequent sh’wa is na’ is still connected to the next syllable, e.g., u-Z’HAV (Genesis 2:12). In either of these cases, a syllable is added to the count.)
  5. Lastly, if a word has every type of additional factor that does not increase its syllable count, i.e., both of its true syllables are preceded by some form of sh’wa na’ or hataf and it has another, third syllable after the accented syllable, then it may be considered a long word, e.g., l’sho-L’HE-cha (Proverbs 22:21), y’va-R’CHU-cha (Psalms 145:10) , and y’sha-R’THEI-ni (Psalms 101:6), but as can be seen from Psalms 145:6, asap-P’REN-na, this is not always the case. 

Thus, in Proverbs 29:22, the hyphenated word rav-PA-sha is not considered two words because of the maqqaf, nor is it considered a “long word” because it only has “two syllables,” the third syllable not being considered because it proceeds the accent, and therefore the preceding word is marked with a conjunctive munah, and the same can be said about the word y’shar-DA-rech five verses later, while in Psalms 145:4 EIN HE-qer does allow for a preceding ravia mugrash despite its lack of syllables because the words remain unhyphenated.  

The d’hi, (as in: ר֭וּחוֹ ) which we have addressed earlier, is also slightly misleading, due to its resemblance to both the disjunctive tip’ha of the rest of the Bible and the connective tip’ha of Emeth, and the fact that it is always written before the word, thus never indicating which syllable is to be accented. Further, the rules we have stated above regarding the ravia mugrash before the silluq apply to the d’hi that appears before the ethnah, i.e., that it is replaced by a connective trop in certain circumstances, but with one important addition: If no other word appears in the ethnah‘s domain before the word that is to receive the d’hi, and no other words are to appear connected to the word with the ethnah after the d’hi, the d’hi is replaced by a mercha, its counterpart conjunctive. This explains the phenomenon in the example I brought earlier, in the following verse with which many are familiar (I Chronicles 16:22): 

אל־תִּגְּעוּ֙ בִּמְשִׁיחָ֔י וּבִנְבִיאַ֖י אַל־תָּרֵֽעוּ׃

The second word is bim-shi-HAI, with a strong beth sound, whereas in the corresponding verse in Psalms(105:15),

אל־תִּגְּע֥וּ בִמְשִׁיחָ֑י    וְ֝לִנְבִיאַ֗י אַל־תָּרֵֽעוּ׃

the word is vim-shi-HAI, with a weak, veth sound. The (compound) word al-tig-G’U before the (long) word vim-shi-HAI has no other words before it, and therefore it is not marked with the disjunctive d’hi. This also explains the following noticeable break in the pattern in the final psalm, which is a good illustration of most of the rules we have discussed until this point: 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As you can see, the word hal’luhu, is usually marked with a disjunctive, because it is a verb followed by an object composed of multiple words (as in the conclusions of these verses), but in the second and fifth verses, the first hal’luhu‘s (in blue) have no words before them, nor do the subsequent words with the ethnah’s have other conjoined words. Thus, the hal’luhu‘s in those verses lose their disjunctive d’hi’s, and the following words (or hyphenated compound word), are modified, vig-vu-ro-THAW or v’tzil-tz’lei-SHA-ma’, respectively, and the prefix beth in each word is weak. In verses 3 and 4, the word hal’luhu in the first halves is proceeded by multiple words in the domain of the ethnah (the green words), and therefore it keeps its disjunctive d’hi. Now, one may ask, why is it that in verse 5 btziltzlei shama’ becomes one hyphenated word, whereas in verse 3, the seemingly shorter words b’theqa shofar remain separate? The answer lies in the fact, that, based on what we wrote above, b’tziltz’lei and b’theqa are both “short” words, but b’theqa has an open syllable capable of receiving an accent, whereas b’tziltz’lei does not have an accentable syllable that would not be adjacent to the accented syllable of SHA-ma’. Its latter syllable is obviously unfit due to proximity, and its first syllable is closed, making it also ineligible. Secondary accents may only be placed on open syllables.

A major exception to these rules occurs a number of times in the shortest verses of Emeth. In the verses that open each of the principles speeches in Job, (3:2, 4:1, 6:1, etc.) there are only three or four words, and we find that either a ravia (in the three-word verses that introduce Elihu or Job’s speeches) or a ravia mugrash (in the four-word verses that introduce the others with the longer names) precedes the final word, even though that final word is accented on its penultimate syllable. This can be explained by the perhaps-necessary proposition that every single verse needs at least one internal disjunctive trop, and there is no other place to put one in those verses, or that the final word actually is a “long” word, and we are just left with the question as to why “way-yo-MAR,” which is normally accented milra’, is here accented mil’eil, like its counterpart way-YO-mer, which has the same meaning, but normally appears at the beginning of a phrase. I hope the readership has any insights regarding this matter.

An opposite exception is in Job 6:4, whereby the “long” word YA-‘ar-CHU-ni is still connected to the previous word. I can hypothesize that this word should be considered short, as it was once pronounced with “only” two countable syllables, as though vowelized thusly: יַעְרְכוּנִי, ya’-R’CHU-ni.

….

One will also take note of the fact that in the Mechon Mamre edition (the online edition from which I borrowed these visual aids) and the various MHK editions edited by R’ Breuer, some verses have ordinary ravia’s instead of the ravia mugrash. For example, in the last verse of Psalm 150 above, the penultimate word has a ravia, but in the various Koren publications, for instance, and other traditionally Ashkenazi texts, those words also have a ravia mugrash. Apparently, R’ Breuer was of the opinion that a ravia mugrash can only appear in verses that already have an ethnah (or one of its replacements). The others do not subscribe to such a rule. Also, I find it interesting that in verses like those that conclude the last five psalms, we find a striking pattern that effectively divides the verse into three parts, instead of the usual two. Most verses in the Psalms follow the symmetrical division pattern, with the half-way point marked by an ethnah, and the quarters marked by a d’hi and ravia mugrash, respectively, but in these cases, the ordinarily symmetrical verse has the climactic Hallelujah added at the end, and because the ravia (mugrash) has to come before the silluq, what would have been the silluq is downgraded to a ravia mugrash, necessitating the downgrading of the the ethnah at what would have been the verse’s midpoint, resulting in it also receiving a ravia. This dispute between the publishers and the phenomenon of the verse being effectively divided into three by the ravia’s indicates to me that for our purposes both types of ravia (ordinary and mugrash) have the same punctuational value, and that in whatever theory we use to explain the hierarchy among the ta’amei emeth, the simple analogy of emperors, kings, viceroys (primary, secondary, and tertiary disjunctives), etc., that features in the other books of the Bible is not adequate for the books of Emeth. For example, in his introduction to the Daat Mikra Psalms, R’ Breuer wrote about how there are no “emperors” in ta’amei emeth, except for the silluqim, and how both the ravia and ethnah are on the same level, both being “kings.” I would like to offer that if we must use the nomenclature and analogies familiar from the other books, the silluq and oleh w’yoreid are the emperors, and the ethnah is the king, ravia’s are viceroys, etc., except that, in a radical departure from the rest of the Bible, most of the verses of Emeth, due to their shortness, have only one emperor, the silluq, and often the kings are also missing, as in those verses in which, as pointed out by R’ Breuer, some sort of ravia takes the ethnah‘s place because there are not enough words proceeding it that can be furthered divided.

One should also note how in the following two verses,

:וַיְדַבֵּ֣ר יְהוָ֔ה אֶֽל־אַהֲרֹ֖ן לֵאמֹֽר

and

:וַיְדַבֵּ֥ר יְהוָ֖ה אֶל־מֹשֶׁ֥ה לֵּאמֹֽר

the only difference is that the name of the object in the latter verse is slightly longer, and not even by a syllable. We see that the mere addition of a hei with a hataf patah lengthens the name Aharon enough so that it justifies upgrading the mercha before the silluq to a tip’ha, and the tip’ha that was already marking the Divine Name to be upgraded to a zaqef. Not only would this not fly in Emeth, as I have mentioned before, this shows the general tendency of the cantillation in most biblical books to have more disjunctives, especially when close to the “emperors,” whereas in Emeth the tendency is toward more conjunctives, especially as words get closer to the primary disjunctives. It is telling that the silluq, ethnah, zaqef, and tip’ha of most of the Bible have at most two words in their immediate domains connected to them by the trop, whereas the lesser disjunctives, e.g. the pazer, t’vir, and pashta are often preceded by three and sometimes four words marked with conjunctives. A comparison of similar words and phrases indicates for example, that the disjunctive t’vir of the rest of the bible is often converted to a conjunctive in Emeth. 

….

In the rest of the books of the Bible, this idea that the sh’wa na’ forms one syllable with that which follows is often preserved in the phenomenon of the athei me’rahiq. In the second reading of Wayeira, we have the combination ha-LI-la L’CHA, whereby the lamed of l’cha receives a dagesh because it is part of an accented syllable that is immediately preceded by a connected word that ends with an unaccented qamatz in an open syllable. 

Yet, there is also the phenomenon that a rule that distinguishes between two possible trops is even more specific than syllable count; sometimes, for instance, whether a word is marked with a qadma or munah, both conjunctives, depends on whether that word is accented on its very first letter, and that, in turn, effects the subsequent disjunctive. Two ready examples are Deuteronomy 15:7, V’CHA, and 17:18, w’CHA-thav. Words like these are either marked 1.with a munah if accented on their first letters, or 2. marked with a qadma if accented on any other letter. These examples show how exactly this rule is followed, as in both of them the first (compound) syllable is accented, but that is not sufficient to allow for the munah. Consequently, the following words are then, despite their being eligible to receive a gershayim, marked with a geresh, as there can not be a word marked with gershayim immediately following a word marked with a qadma

With this in mind, we can understand an unusual difference of opinion. In Numbers 33:9, most of the tiqqunim have the words שתים עשרה marked with a qadma and azla (geresh). Had the word esreh appeared alone, (which technically could not happen because the word, as vowelized, only exists in conjunction with another,) it would have been marked with a gershayim because it is accented on its latter syllable, but because the word שתֵּים, which by our definition is monosyllabic, is not accented on its first letter, it therefore receives a qadma, which in turn converts the gershayim on עשרה into a geresh. (The word gershayim itself is unusual in that if it or any word of its mishqal were to appear in the Bible, it could never be marked with a gershayim precisely because it is accented mil’eil! It is very odd that thousands of young men are taught the trop by singing their names, thus becoming familiar with the “ger-sha-YIM.”) However, in MHK publications and in the Mechon Mamre edition, שתֵּים is marked a munah, and this makes perhaps more sense, as in the words שְתַּיִם, שְתֵּי, and שְתֵּים the taw is still strong, indicating the tradition that in these words, the sh’wa under the shin is not pronounced na’ and it would have been more appropriate for me to represent שְתֵּים as shteim, without the apostrophe I have been using to represent the sh’wa na. If the shin is indeed read in one consonant cluster with the taw, then this word is now accented on its very first letter (along with all four of its letters), thus calling for its trop to be a munah and not a qadma. In Diqduq Eliyahu and Lehem Habikkurim, this strange circumstance is illustrated by placing a phantom alef vowelized with a short vowel before the shin, thus making the shin appear to close a syllable and “immobilizing” its sh’wa. In a similar word, the singular masculine form of the imperative “drink,” שְתֵה, the shin is pronounced with a sh’wa na’ and therefore the taw is weak, while when the word שְתֵּי is prefixed with a mem, e.g., in Judges 16:28, indicating the contracted word מִן, the shin does receive a dagesh to compensate for the missing nun, making its sh’wa a sh’wa na’, and the taw does lose its dagesh

Taking Issue with the Ish Matzliah 

Rabbi Mazuz is the leading authority on all things grammatical, and it is a testament to his influence and greatness that two of his more questionable opinions, opinions that can not be reconciled with the traditions we have received, have become more and more popular, and is partly attributable to the fact that the tiqqun published by his students, Tiqqun Qor’im Ish Matzliah, and the subsequent Hummash of the same name for synagogue use have become fixtures in many synagogues.

The first involves the public reading of Genesis 35:22, the Reuben incident. According to the traditional practice, this verse describing Reuben’s actions is combined with the next verse (what should be 35:23, “And the children of Israel were twelve,” but in many editions is not numbered) thus eliminating its silluq, the Torah reader’s cue for the Targum reader, depriving the Targum reader a chance to actually read the translation to the former verse aloud, and when he hears the silluq of the latter verse, he only reads the Targum thereto. The author of the weekly letter “Tamey Torah” (spelled in Hebrew טעמי תורה, tameytorah@gmail.com) has pointed out in the name of the Rabbi Jacob Emden that this is the explanation for the alternate sets of trop that accompany the Decalogue, both iterations of which are traditionally read publicly in the ta’am elyon, a set of trop which recombines the traditional verses, i.e. rearranges the silluqim, such that some verses are thereby combined into one verse, whereas another verse is divided into multiple short verses, thus cuing to the Targum reader to read his lines after individual commandments and not actual verses. The standard set of trop is referred to as the ta’am tahton, and the usual systems of numbering the verses follow it.

For centuries now, most Jewish communities have not been reading the Targum along with the public Torah reading, and based on this explanation, there is no longer any reason for us to continue reading these three sections with the ta’am ‘elyon, and indeed there are places in which the practice of reading the Decalogue with the ta’am ‘elyon has been suspended. However, in places where the Targum is still read publicly, this upholds the talmudic imperative to not translate the account of the Reuben incident (M’gilla 4:10, Laws of Prayer and Torah Reading 12:12). Rabbi Emden’s understanding is even mentioned by Rabbi Mazuz in his introduction to his tiqqun, yet, it was his father’s practice (see Tamey Torah for written sources) to read Genesis 35:22 twice, once on its own and once connected to the next verse, in order to thereby read the verse with both sets of trop, as though to satisfy all of the opinions because we can not know which is the correct set of trop to follow. Tamey Torah has documented a number of sefarim, all of North African origin, that record this practice, which, aside from the fact that it utilizes the Reductio Ad Opinionibus At Dissiderent fallacy instead of trying to come to sort of halachic solution, has the negative consequence of now having Reuben’s incident read in front of native Hebrew-speakers twice, ensuring that they clearly hear the verse as is, and maybe even provoking them to look into it further, because attention has now been drawn to it. In both this case and the next, it is surprising that the Lehem Habikkurim “died from a kashya” and altered the practice, because in other lands, the answer to his kashya (“why are there two sets of trop?”) had already been offered and accepted, thereby upholding the traditional practice. Tamey Torah also notes that the Vatican manuscript they claim as a source is misunderstood: its marginal note is merely pointing out the existence of two sets of trop, and does not literally mean that both sets should somehow be read publicly.

As a side note, the other peculiarity found in the Vatican manuscript, indicating that Genesis 35:22 should feature a zarqasegol series in the ta’am elyon, was also included in the tiqqun. Now, there are two competing schools of thought regarding what exactly a segol is supposed to be:

  1. Segol is a disjunctive trop on the level of an ethnah, and together they divide the verse into three parts, the first third concluding with the segol, the second with the ethnah. This explains why the segol always precedes the ethnah. (I know of only one verse in the Bible that has a segol but no ethnah.) When examining many verses, you can see that this makes a lot of sense, and is attributed to the Ibn Ezra and others, and is also endorsed by Rabbi Mazuz.
  1. Segol is a disjunctive on the level of a strong zaqef, and when a verse calls for many trops of that level, the first becomes a segol, under specific conditions. Jacobson brings a number of verses, including I Samuel 5:3-4 to illustrate this, and this is the position of Rav Breuer, among others, and explains why the segol‘s second mishneh is a ravi’a and not a zaqef, but it does not explain why segol is always before the ethnah.

According to the common tradition, Genesis 35:22 is to be read thusly:

:וַיְהִ֗י בִּשְׁכֹּ֤ן יִשְׂרָאֵל֙ בָּאָ֣רֶץ הַהִ֔וא וַיֵּ֣לֶךְ רְאוּבֵ֔ן וַיִּשְׁכַּ֕ב אֶת־בִּלְהָ֖ה פִּילֶ֣גֶשׁ אָבִ֑יו וַיִּשְׁמַ֖ע יִשְׂרָאֵֽל

and the subsequent verse, which as I mentioned, is not independently numbered in many editions, appears thusly:

וַיִּֽהְי֥וּ בְנֵֽי־יַעֲקֹ֖ב שְׁנֵ֥ים עָשָֽׂר׃

Now, there are two main ways we could have combined these verses into one long verse and preserve the hierarchy of the trop:

  1. The first verse is now only half a verse, and therefore, it’s silluq is downgraded to an ethnah, and its z’qefim and tip’hoth should be downgraded to pashtoth, r’vi’im, t’virim etc.,

or

  1. being that the latter verse has no ethnah, we could perhaps divide the combined verse into thirds, with the first verse containing the first two thirds, and its silluq becoming an ethnah and its own ethnah becoming a segol, but, as pointed by R’ Breuer and others, even if one were to assume that a segol is a disjunctive on the level of an ethnah, there is no such thing as a segol in such proximity to an ethnah. Therefore, this possibility is ruled out.

Yet, in the original verse, the zaqef on the word ההִוא is the strongest internal disjunctive after the ethnah of אביו, and when the verses are combined, because the original ethnah is downgraded, it stands to reason that the zaqef of hahi should have been downgraded to a ravia, and certainly not upgraded to a segol as it has been in the Tiqqun Ish Matzliah. On the contrary, if the Reuben verse is then extended by a new phrase that is “ruled by an emperor,” then the segol should at least be placed where the Reuben verse’s ethnah appeared, and I would therefore argue that if anything, we could only entertain a segol on the word hahi in the ta’am tahton of that verse.

Elsewhere in the tiqqun, the words ohela (genesis 18:6 and elsewhere) and tzo’ara (ibid 19:23) are, in accordance with the opinion of the Lehem Habikkurim, accented on their last syllables, o-he’LA and tzo-a’RA’, respectively, whereas in most tiqqunim, the words are accented on their first syllables, as is seemingly indicated in the oldest manuscripts, O-he’la and TZO-a’ra’. The argument for this position is as follows: Normally, the addition of an unaccented suffix qamatz-silent hei is an alternate form of the directional el or the prefix lamed (the same suffix when accented indicates femininity). “To Hebron” can either be el hevron, or l’hevron, or hevrona. In the latter case, the accent stays on the syllable that is normally accented, and the additional syllable formed by the qamatz and silent hei is not accented. Note also what happens to a word like goshen, which is of the same mishqal as tzo’ar and ohel. The normal pronunciation of the word is GO-shen, and when the directional is appended, it becomes GOSH-na, with the shin now closing the strong vowel of the accented syllable, but in the case of these two words, the presence of the guttural letter vowelized with a hataf, hei with a hataf segol and ‘ayin with a hataf patah, respectively, creates what appears to be a third syllable. Now, according to the rules of grammar with which we are familiar, those gutturals can not receive the accents because they have hatafim, and no hataf or sh’wa na’ is accented. Further, and this is the crux of the dispute, the first syllables of these words should not receive the accents either because that would result in words that are primarily accented too far away from the end of the words, and they are vowelized with holam, necessitating the subsequent guttural letters to be vowelized with forms of hataf vowels, themselves types of shwa na’, which according to another rule, can not follow a full vowel, a tnu’a g’dola, that is accented. Normally, Hebrew words are accented milra’, on the last syllable, whereas in some cases the word is mil’eil, accented before the last syllable, but even in those cases, the accent is at least on the syllable right before the last. There is no such thing as a word accented on a syllable two or more syllables away from the last syllable, and when there is a full vowel in an accented syllable, it can be closed by a shwa nah. For example, in אומרים o-m’RIM, the accented syllable has a hiriq gadol and is closed by the (unwritten) shwa nah of the mem, and in אומר o-MER, the tzeirei of the accented syllable is closed by the shwa nah of the reish.

However this argument is mistaken, because, as we have now learned, consonants, whether guttural or not, when vowelized with sh’wa na’ or any form of hataf do not count as syllables. Therefore, in the words ohela and tzoara, it is not the case that the first of three syllables is accented. Rather, it is just that the first of two syllables is accented. Also, because this first argument could be rejected by the editors of the tiqqun because they may not hold of this theory of explaining the vowels, it must be pointed out that even according to their own theory, when words do have full vowels in their final, accented and closed syllables and the final consonant is a pronounced guttural letter (‘ayin, heth, or a non-silent (“mappiq“) hei), then we add a phantom patah between the vowel and the consonant. If words like ohela and tzo’ara were to follow this model, we would have to pronounce them like אֹ ַהְלָה Oah-la and צֹ ַעְרָה TZOa’-ra, thus adding another seeming syllable to the word. (I added spaces within these words to show where the patah sound would be inserted. In words like תפוּחַ most people know to articulate the patah between the shuruq and the final heth.) In a word like GOSH-na, we would not be confronted with any problem because we already have a precedent for closing a holam‘s accented syllable with a shin sound without having to add a phantom patah, e.g., ראש, rosh. The truth is that in these unusual words, which are ideally accented on their first syllables which feature full vowels closed by guttural consonantal sounds, we have few options.

I welcome whatever insights the readers can offer. 

* For almost twenty years, I have followed the Soncino Talmud’s convention of representing the waw as a “w”  and thaw as “th” in transliteration. This, despite its unpopularity, eliminates many ambiguities and more accurately reflects the proper pronunciation. 




Upcoming Auction

Kestenbaum & Co. will be holding an auction next Thursday, Feb. 24th. On its site, it provides some highlights, and I wanted to point out a few others. Additionally, one can download the entire catalog by visiting the site. The first edition of R. Yosef Albo’s Sefer ha-Ikarim, Soncino 1485, being an incunabula is of course of note (lot 7). But, the colophon of this work is especially noteworthy. The colophon ends with “Ki mi-Tzion teitze Torah u-devar Hashem mi-Soncino.” Of course, this is a a play on the verse in Isaiah. While today we know that the printing press indeed usher in a new era of Torah and the dissemination of knowledge, this colophon at the end of a work published at the advent of the printing press is especially prescient.Another early and important work, is what is known as the “second Rabbinic bible,” today we know it as Mikra’ot Gedolot (lot 53). This edition as well as the “first” is discussed by Prof. Penkower in this post. Then we have a perennial favorite, R. Shmuel Arcivolti’s Ma’ayan Ganim (lot 41). This book is perhaps most well-known for its misuse. Prof. Shapiro’s post discusses some of the issues with the use of this work. But, it is worth noting that the book is divided into five sections, each beginning with the same illustration – a fountain. First, most early Hebrew books don’t contain illustration in the body (title pages are a different story). Second, the fountain shows a group of (very nude) cherubs with the fountain waters exiting from a less than flattering orifice. The book is currently available online, although who is to know when someone will discover the images and remove it. R. Yom Tov Lipmann Heller’s classic work on the Rosh – today known as Ma’adnei Asher and Divrei Chamudoth – is offered with its original title (lot 136). This is the first edition and the only to bear the original title – Maadeni Melech ve-Lechem Chammudoth. According to some, the change in title was precipitated by a false rumour that the original title indicated an insult to the ruling monarch. It is worth noting, that in the latest edition of R. Heller’s quasi-autobiography, Megilat Evah, the editor raises some questions as to whether this truly is the reason for changing the title. Another important title, in this case the title page is the Sha’ar bat Rabim (lot 169). This work has a beautifully illustrated title page as well as other pages. Please see this post On The Main Line where he discusses it. There are a few titles relating to haskalah. First, is one volume of the seminal Journal, Ha-Me’asef (lot 137). This volume contains the first appearance R. Yitzhak Satanow’s Mishlei Asaf, a work written in the style of Mishlei with extensive notes. As well as David Freidlander’s attack on R. Fleckles after Fleckles had denounced Mendelshon’s Biur. Finally, it contains an important article regarding the controversy of whether or not one can delay burial to ensure the person is in fact dead. One addition to the note on this lot, Moshe Samat has an important article on this last topic which was recently republished in the collection of his articles, Hadash Assur min ha-Torah. Another two haskalah works are Nachman Krochmal’s Moreh Nevuchei ha-Zeman (lot 164) and R. Moshe Kunitz’s defense of the Zohar, Ben Yochi (lot 165). Finally, R. Naftali Hertz Wessely’s Divrei Shalom ve-Emet (lot 209) rounds out the haskalah. This book which advanced novel, for that time, educational theories was a subject of a large controversy. Interestingly enough, today, most of his reforms have been incorporated into Jewish schools. The auction contains the Cassuto Collection (which you can read more about in the catalog) which focuses on Spainish and Portugese Jews. Now, for must of the past 500 years, that meant not Jews actually in those countries but who originated from those countries. The most popular of which is Holland – specifically Amsterdam. So we have a beautiful copy of R. Isaac Aboab work on Tanach with a portrait (lot 264) as well another (lot 263) from a Dutch Jews, where, inter alia, he criticizes the American revolution. On the topic of Dutch Jews, an excellent recent work is Nadler’s, Rembrandt’s Jews. See also this post discussing some internal conflicts within the Dutch community, as well as the first Jewish settlement in the Americas. A few letters of interest. First, a letter from the Chofetz Hayyim thanking a donor for their donation to the ladies auxilary of Radin (lot 232). There are three letters from each of the past three Luavitcher’s rebbitzins, all fairly personal, discussing their move from the “Motherland” (Russia) to Latvia (lots 246-48).




[1]: א״ל הקב״ה … יודע אני כוונתו של אהרן היאך היתה לטובה On a Short Wedding Wish to the Lichtensteins from the Pen of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg

[1]: א״ל הקב״ה … יודע אני כוונתו של אהרן היאך היתה לטובה
On a Short Wedding
Wish to the Lichtensteins from the Pen of Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg
By Shaul Seidler-Feller
I
Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein, zts”l, the late, lamented, “irreplaceable”[2] gedol ha-dor of the Modern Orthodox and Religious Zionist communities,[3] has been characterized by those who knew him as a larger-than-life – indeed, angelic[4] – leader whose complete command of every facet of Torah learning was matched only by his sterling character and superlative (almost Hafets Hayyim-like) piety.[5] One of the things that struck me most, however, in listening to and reading several of the eulogies delivered or published after his passing was precisely how genuinely human this prince among men was in his personal and family life. Mrs. Esti Rosenberg, one of Rav Lichtenstein’s daughters and the head of the Stella K. Abraham Beit Midrash for Women – Migdal Oz, used the biblical metaphor of “a ladder set up on the earth, whose head reached unto heaven” (Gen. 28:12)[6] to capture how her father managed to radiate both a rarefied aura of sanctity and, crucially, a true humanity that extended to such mundane matters as doing most of the laundry in the house,[7] getting the kids ready in the mornings,[8] helping them with their homework in the evenings,[9] coming to learn with them after seder twice a week,[10] making sure to eat dinner with them almost every night,[11] washing the dishes after Shabbat had ended so that his kids would not fight over whose responsibility it was,[12] attending their performances in the Ezra youth group or at school,[13] teaching them how to ride a bike,[14] playing Scrabble and chess with them,[15] taking an interest in their friends,[16] buying them gifts and clothing during his visits to the States,[17] etc. – all of them activities that might be undertaken by normal devoted fathers but that I think we usually, rightly or wrongly, do not associate with people of Rav Lichtenstein’s intellectual caliber and spiritual stature. Indeed, in the words of Rabbi Avishai David, a student of Rav Aharon’s, “Rav Lichtenstein was a normal gadol ba-Torah, a very normal gadol ba-Torah.”[18]
And, of course, the same level of devotion was manifest in his relationship with his wife, Dr. Tovah Lichtenstein (nee Soloveitchik). Rav Aharon’s children reflected at the levayah on the mutual respect and unwavering support each partner showed the other,[19] while his students described some of the (ever-modest) manifestations of their affection for one another.[20] Dr. Lichtenstein herself summed it up best in a video produced in honor of her husband’s eightieth birthday when she said, “He invested both intellectually and emotionally in our children.[21] And he invested in our marriage as well – he was not only a family man but also a husband.”[22]
II
It is in this context, then, that I wish to digress for a moment and travel back in time to the Lichtensteins’ wedding, the point at which this whole story started, by way of a unique text discovered by Menachem Butler in a volume on the shelves of Yeshiva University’s Mendel Gottesman Library of Hebraica/Judaica. The year is 1959, and Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg (1884–1966), famed prewar rector of the Hildesheimer Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin and author of the Seridei esh compendium of responsa, halakhic novellae, and topical essays, is living out the last stage of his life in Montreux, Switzerland. Meanwhile, across the ocean in the United States, Rav Lichtenstein has just received semikhah from Yeshiva University’s Rabbi Isaac Elchanan Theological Seminary, having completed his doctorate in English literature at Harvard two years prior,[23] and is engaged to be married to Tovah Soloveitchik, daughter of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, Rav Aharon’s rav muvhak.[24] The couple originally planned to wed Tuesday night, 22 Kislev 5720 (December 22, 1959), in the Dorothy Quincy Suite of the John Hancock Building in Boston, the bride’s hometown (see Fig. 1).[25]

 

 Fig. 1

In anticipation of the joyous occasion, to which he apparently could not arrive in person, Rav Weinberg sent an inscribed volume of Yad sha’ul,[26] a collection of essays compiled in memory of his beloved talmid muvhak (and the person primarily responsible for bringing him to Montreux in the first place),[27] Rabbi Saul Weingort (ca. 1914–1946),[28] who had passed away following a tragic train accident while on his way to deliver a shi‘ur at the yeshivah in Montreux.[29] Through some serendipitous twist of fate, it is this copy of the sefer which made its way into the open stacks of the Gottesman Library. The dedicatory text (see Fig. 2) and my translation thereof follow:

Fig. 2
מזכרת ידידות
ושי לחתונה
של הרה״ג ד״ר אהרן ליכטנשטיין
עב״ג
מרת טובה סולוביציק ילאי״ט
בתו
של גאון הדור ותפארתו
ידידי הגאון הגדול מאוה״ג
מהרי״ד הלוי סולוביציג [!][30] שליט״א
שתתקיים במז״ט ובשעה מוצלחת
בכ״ב לחודש כסליו שנת תש״כ
ויה״ר שהזוג היקר יתברך
ממעון הברכות בחיים ארוכים
טובים ומאושרים ומוצלחים בכל
דרכי חייהם, והבית אשר יוקם
,יהי׳ לשם ולתפארת בישראל
ולמקור עונג ושמחת עולמים
.להוריהם הדגולים
יחיאל יעקב וויינברג
מונתרה, ח׳ בכסליו, תש״כ

A gift and token of friendship presented on the occasion of the marriage of the ga’on, Rabbi Dr. Aharon Lichtenstein, to his soul mate, Ms. Tovah Soloveitchik[31] – may their years be long and good – the daughter of this generation’s pride and splendor, my friend, the great ga’on and Luminary of the Diaspora, our teacher, Rabbi Joseph B. ha-Levi Soloveitchik – may his years be long and good, amen – which is set to take place, under a lucky star and at an auspicious hour, on 22 Kislev [5]720. May it be His will that this precious couple be blessed from the Abode of Blessing with long, good, and joyous lives and with success in all of their endeavors. And may the home that they build be of fame and of glory in Israel [see I Chron. 22:5] and a source of eternal delight and happiness for their distinguished parents.
Jehiel Jacob Weinberg
Montreux, 8 Kislev [5]720 [December 9, 1959]

I think this text is historically significant for at least two reasons. First, while I am unaware of any subsequent contact between the Lichtensteins and Rav Weinberg following the wedding,[32][32] this message certainly attests to a longstanding relationship of mutual regard
between Rabbis Weinberg and Soloveitchik, two leading rashei yeshivah whose formative years were spent in both the Lithuanian yeshivah world and the German academy. We know from other sources that they first met while the Rav was a student at the University of Berlin in the 1920s; according to testimony cited by Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, the Rav audited classes at Rav Weinberg’s Seminary during the 1926–1927 academic year.[33] Their encounters extended well beyond the classroom, however,[34] and even though Rav Weinberg was generally not enamored of the Brisker derekh ha-limmud espoused by Rav Soloveitchik and his forebears,[35] these two intellectual powerhouses maintained a deep appreciation for one another throughout their lives[36] – as can certainly be seen in Rav Weinberg’s above inscription.

The second issue that I wish to discuss here relates to the date of the wedding itself. As of 8 Kislev 5720, Rav Weinberg, quite justifiably, thought that it would take place two weeks hence. However, that very evening, December 9 – the same night the Rav delivered the aforementioned (n. 35) hesped for his uncle, Rabbi Isaac Ze’ev Soloveitchik (1886–1959) – Rav Soloveitchik “informed his family that he had been diagnosed with colon cancer, and would be returning to Boston the next day for surgery. His daughter Tovah and her fiancé R. Aharon Lichtenstein postponed their wedding (which had been set to take place in the coming days) until a few weeks later, so that the Rav could participate.”[37] Thus, the wedding was not actually held until Tuesday night, 27 Tevet 5720 (January 26, 1960) (see Figs. 3 and 4),[38] something Rav Weinberg could not have predicted at the time he penned his wishes to the young couple.

Fig. 3

 

Fig. 4
III
In any case, returning to the present after our brief historical sojourn, it seems to me that, aside from all he taught us about avodat Hashem, lomdes, morality, and how to live as deeply committed Jews in the modern world, Rav Lichtenstein also modeled what it means to be a “totally devoted” family man.[39] As Rabbi Menachem Genack, who began his undergraduate studies at Yeshiva College when Rav Lichtenstein was already a rosh kolel in RIETS, remarked, “Rav Aharon’s gadlus batorah is well-known, but less celebrated is his gadlus as a father and as a son, his commitment and dedication to his family. Rav Aharon was always learning, but nevertheless managed to spend time with all of his children.”[40] Indeed, anyone who sees the pictures of Rav Aharon and his family featured in the aforementioned video will immediately understand what Rabbi Mayer Lichtenstein meant when he said that his father fulfilled the talmudic principle of ner hanukkah ve-ner beito, ner beito adif (Shabbat 23b).[41] With this background, it should not surprise us that, when asked, “What are you most proud of having accomplished during these years of service?” Rav Lichtenstein answered:

Looking back over
the past 50 years, what I am proudest of is what some would regard as being a
non-professional task. I’m proudest of having built, together with my wife, the
wonderful family that we have. It is a personal accomplishment, a social
accomplishment, and a contribution – through what they are giving and will
give, each in his or her own way – in service of the Ribbono shel Olam in the future.[42]

I think the lesson for us, his students, is clear. May we be zokheh to rise to the challenge of carrying forth all aspects of Rav Lichtenstein’s multifaceted legacy for many years to come.

 

 

*
I wish at the outset to express my appreciation to yedidi, Reb Menachem Butler, ne‘im me’assefei yisra’el, for furnishing me with the opportunity, as well as many of the bibliographical sources (including the primary text itself!) required, to compose this essay. Additional thanks go to his fellow editors at the Seforim Blog for their consideration of this piece and, generally, for their great service to the public in maintaining such an active and high-quality platform for the serious discussion of topics of Jewish interest. Finally, I am indebted to my friends Eliyahu Krakowski, Daniel Tabak, and Shlomo Zuckier for their editorial corrections and comments to earlier drafts of this piece which, taken together, improved it considerably.
[1]

[1] See Shemot
rabbah
(Vilna ed.) to Parashat
tetsavveh
37:2.

[2]

[2] Dr. David Berger quoted Rabbi Yosef Blau
as describing Rav Lichtenstein in this way and went on to characterize him in
similar terms here
(listen at about 1:04:40). Rabbi Ezra Schwartz said in effect the same thing here,
and in some ways went even further (listen at about 58:00).

[3]

[3] For evidence of how strongly his loss
has already been felt in the Modern Orthodox/Religious Zionist communities, one
need only peruse the ever-expanding number of articles and tributes that have
been cataloged on the Yeshivat Har Etzion websites here and here.

[4]

[4] One set of verses to which maspidim kept returning when describing
Rav Lichtenstein was those that appear in Malachi 2:5-7, together with the
rabbinic interpretation thereof: “If a given rabbi can be compared to an angel
of the Lord of Hosts, let them ask him to teach them Torah, and vice versa” (Hagigah 15b, Mo‘ed katan 17a). See the hespedim
of Rabbis Mayer Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 7:50), Mordechai Schnaidman here
(listen at about 23:00), and my friend Mordy Weisel here
(listen at about 5:05). Similarly, others have described him as angelic without
specific recourse to the verses in Malachi; see the hespedim of Rabbis Mosheh Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 9:25) and Avishai David here
(listen at about 1:03:25).

[5]

[5] So according to Rabbi Mordechai
Schnaidman here
(listen at about 16:00); see also Yosef Zvi Rimon, “Keitsad magdirim gedol dor?
JobKatif (May 4, 2015). Similarly,
Rabbi Ari Kahn compared Rav Lichtenstein to Rabbi Israel Salanter (1810–1883) here
(listen at about 9:00 and 48:55), and Mrs. Esti Rosenberg said that the stories
people tell about her father remind her of those told about Rabbi Aryeh Levin
(1885–1969); see her interview with Yair Sheleg: “Yaledah ahat mul 700 otobusim,” Shabbat: musaf le-torah, hagut, sifrut
ve-omanut
927 (May 15, 2015).

[6]

[6] See her hesped here
(listen at about 0:35 and 2:25).

[7]

[7] See the hesped of Mrs. Tanya Mittleman, Rav Lichtenstein’s youngest, here
(listen at about 10:15).

[8]

[8] See the hesped of Rabbi Nathaniel Helfgot here
(listen at about 46:55).

[9]

[9] See the hesped of my friend David Pruwer here
(watch at about 18:50).

[10]

[10] See the hespedim of Rabbis Mosheh Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 4:50), Mayer Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 12:35), and Assaf Bednarsh here
(listen at about 14:05), as well as the video produced in honor of Rav
Lichtenstein’s eightieth birthday here (watch at about
9:25 and 11:35) and that of a public conversation between Rabbi Benny Lau and
Rav Aharon and Dr. Tovah Lichtenstein on the topic of “Education and Family in
the Modern World” held in Ra’anana on May 13, 2012 here (watch at about
27:45 and 28:55). See also the recently-released essay “On Raising Children,” The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash
(May 2015), based on a sihah
delivered by Rav Lichtenstein in July 2007.

[11]

[11] See the video produced in honor of Rav
Lichtenstein’s eightieth birthday here (watch at about
11:25), as well as the hesped of Mrs.
Tanya Mittleman here
(listen at about 19:05) and Mrs. Esti Rosenberg’s interview with Yair Sheleg, “Yaledah ahat mul 700 otobusim.”

[12]

[12] See the hesped of Mrs. Tanya Mittleman here
(listen at about 11:00). Similarly, Rabbi Julius Berman relates in his hesped here
that when Rav Aharon would stay at his house during visits to the States, he
would always wash his own dishes when he had finished eating (listen at about
20:30).

[13]

[13] See the hespedim of Mrs. Esti Rosenberg here
(listen at about 3:05) and Mrs. Tanya Mittleman here
(listen at about 19:20), as well as the video produced in honor of Rav
Lichtenstein’s eightieth birthday here (watch at about
11:15).

[14]

[14] See the hesped of Rabbi Shay Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 23:00). See also the hesped
of David Pruwer here
(watch at about 18:45), as well as Rav Lichtenstein’s “On Raising Children.”

[15]

[15] On Scrabble, see the hesped of Rabbi Shay Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 4:40). On chess, see the video produced in honor of Rav
Lichtenstein’s eightieth birthday here (watch at about
12:20).

[16]

[16] See the hesped of Mrs. Tanya Mittleman here
(listen at about 19:10).

[17]

[17] Ibid. (listen at about 10:30).

[18]

[18] See his hesped here
(listen at about 16:50).

[19]

[19] See the hespedim of Rabbi Mayer Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 16:15 and 17:30), Mrs. Esti Rosenberg here
(listen at about 13:35 and 15:25), and Mrs. Tanya Mittleman here
(listen at about 21:30); see also that of my friend Noach Lerman here
(listen at about 37:35).

[20]

[20] Rabbi Assaf Bednarsh recounted here
that when Rav Lichtenstein would call his wife on the phone, he would address
her as “darling,” rather than “rebetsin” (listen at about 14:35). (Dr.
Lichtenstein herself reminisced here about how her
husband would sometimes jokingly address her as “Mrs. L.,” and she, in turn,
would call him “Reb Aharon” [watch at about 1:10]). Noach Lerman talked here
about how Rav Aharon would open the car door for his wife when they drove
somewhere (listen at about 34:25). Similarly, see the video here for a picture of
husband and wife going rafting together (watch at about 12:22) and, of course,
the dedication Rav Lichtenstein inscribed at the front of his two-volume Leaves of Faith (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav
Pub. House, 2003–2004): “To Tovah: With Appreciation and Admiration.”

For Rav Lichtenstein’s analysis of the Torah’s attitude
toward the institutions of marriage and family and how they square with more
modern conceptions, see his “Ha-mishpahah ba-halakhah,” in Mishpehot beit yisra’el: ha-mishpahah bi-tefisat ha-yahadut
(Jerusalem: Misrad ha-Hinnukh ve-ha-Tarbut – Ha-Mahlakah le-Tarbut Toranit,
1976), 13-30, esp. pp. 21-30; “Of Marriage: Relationship
and Relations
,” Tradition 39:2
(Summer 2005): 7-35, esp. pp. 10-13 (reprinted here
in Rivkah Blau, Gender Relationships in
Marriage and Out
[New York: Michael Scharf Publication Trust of the Yeshiva
University Press; Jersey City, NJ: Ktav Pub. House, 2007], 1-34, and in Aharon
Lichtenstein, Varieties of Jewish
Experience
[Jersey City, NJ: Ktav Pub. House, 2011], 1-37); and “On Raising Children.”
[21]

[21] In the course of the aforementioned (n.
10) public conversation on the topic of “Education and Family in the Modern
World” here, Dr. Lichtenstein
recalled that at the berit milah of
the couple’s firstborn son Mosheh, her father, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik
(1903–1993), sensing that Rav Lichtenstein harbored grand aspirations to save
the world, spoke about the importance of the father’s role in raising his
children and not leaving the job solely to his wife (watch at about 26:00). See
Rav Aharon’s parallel account in “On Raising Children,” as
well as his comment there that “I feel very strongly about the need for
personal attention in child-raising, and have tried to put it into practice.”

[22]

[22] Watch here at about 12:15.
Incidentally, during a different part of that same public event in Ra’anana,
available here, Rav
Lichtenstein commented on the role of children in strengthening the emotional
bond between partners (watch at about 35:15; see also 53:55).

[23]

[23] Shlomo Zuckier and Shalom Carmy, “An Introductory
Biographical Sketch of R. Aharon Lichtenstein
,” Tradition 47:4 (2015): 6-16, at p. 7. His dissertation would
eventually appear as Aharon Lichtenstein, Henry
More: The Rational Theology of a Cambridge Platonist
(Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1962).

[24]

[24] According to my friend Jonathan Ziring, in
an e-mail communication dated May 28, 2015, the Lichtensteins first met, by
chance, at the home of Rabbi Ahron Soloveichik (1917–2001), the Rav’s brother
and another major influence on Rav Lichtenstein. The Rav would later encourage
Rav Aharon to court his daughter, and the rest, as they say, is history.

[25]

[25] Image courtesy of Naftali Balanson’s Facebook page, as brought
to my attention by Rabbi Jeffrey Saks.

[26]

[26] Jehiel Jacob Weinberg and Pinchas Biberfeld (eds.), Yad
sha’ul: sefer zikkaron a[l] sh[em] ha-rav d”r sha’ul weingort zts”l
(Tel Aviv: The
Widow of Saul Weingort, 1953).

[27]

[27] See Rav Weinberg’s memorial essay,
“Le-zikhro,” printed at the beginning of Yad
sha’ul
, pp. 3-19, at p. 13.

[28]

[28] The date of Rabbi Weingort’s birth seems
somewhat controversial. Rav Weinberg himself, in “Le-zikhro,” 4,
estimates that his student was born in either 5673 or 5674 (1913 or 1914),
whereas the frontmatter
of the Yad sha’ul volume gives the
precise date 12 Kislev 5675 (November 30, 1914); Marc B. Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy: The Life and Works of
Rabbi Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, 1884–1966
(London; Portland, OR: Littman
Library of Jewish Civilization, 1999), 161, claims he was born in 1915; and the website of the Yad Shaoul
kolel in Kokhav Ya’akov, opened in
2011 and dedicated in Rabbi Weingort’s memory, concurs with Shapiro.

[29]

[29] See Weinberg, “Le-zikhro,” 15.

[30]

[30] Most readers are probably familiar with
the more common Hebrew spelling of “Soloveitchik” with a final kof. Rav Weinberg, however, generally
preferred ending the name in a gimel
(except, strangely, in the case of the Rav’s daughter Tovah).

[31]

[31] Dr. Lichtenstein would go on to complete
her doctoral studies in social work at Bar-Ilan University following the
family’s arrival in Israel in 1971, writing her dissertation on “Genealogical
Bewilderment and Search Behavior: A Study of Adult Adoptees Who Search for
their Birth Parents” (1992). She is therefore referred to here without her
doctoral title.

[32]

[32] It should be noted that Rav Lichtenstein
served as coeditor of the rabbinic periodical Hadorom during the mid-1960s and, as such, may have been involved
in editing some of Rav Weinberg’s last publications to appear during his
lifetime. (For a partial bibliography of Rav Weinberg’s oeuvre, see Michael
Brocke and Julius Carlebach, Biographisches
Handbuch der Rabbiner: Teil 2: Rabbiner im Deutschen Reich, 1871–1945
, vol.
2 [Munich: K. G. Saur, 2009], 639-640 [no. 2657]. For a fuller inventory, see Shapiro,
Between the Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy, 239-246.) Discovery and analysis of any
potential remaining correspondence between the two during this period remain
scholarly desiderata.

[33]

[33] See Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, The Rav: The World of Rabbi Joseph B.
Soloveitchik
, ed. Joseph Epstein, vol. 1 (Hoboken, NJ: Ktav Pub. House,
1999), 27 with n. 13. Similarly, see Shalom Carmy, “R. Yehiel Weinberg’s Lecture on Academic Jewish
Scholarship
,” Tradition
24:4 (Summer 1989): 15-23, at p. 16.

[34]

[34] See Werner Silberstein, My Way from Berlin to Jerusalem, trans.
Batya Rabin (Jerusalem: Special Family Edition Published in Honor of the Author’s 95th
Birthday, 1994), 26-27, as quoted in Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff, “Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik: The Early Years,” Tradition 30:4 (Summer 1996): 193-209,
at p. 197; idem, The Rav, 28; and idem, From
Washington Avenue to Washington Street
(Jerusalem; Lynbrook, NY: Gefen; New
York: OU Press, 2011), 108 (available here).

[35]

[35] See his letter to Rabbi Jacob Arieli of
Jerusalem composed sometime after 2 Nisan 5711 (April 8, 1951), as reproduced
in Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, Seridei esh:
she’elot u-teshuvot hiddushim u-bei’urim be-dinei orah hayyim ve-yoreh de‘ah
, vol. 2 (Jerusalem:
Mossad Harav Kook, 2003), 355-357 (sec. 144), at pp. 356-357; his letters to Dr. Gabriel Hayyim Cohn,
dated 27
Tevet 5725 (January 1, 1965) and 19 Kislev 5726 (December 13, 1965), as
reproduced in Jehiel Jacob Weinberg, Kitvei
ha-ga’on rabbi yehiʼel yaʻakov weinberg, zts”l
, ed. Marc B. Shapiro, vol. 2
(Scranton, PA: Marc B. Shapiro, 2003), 219 n. 4 (esp. the latter one); and the
beginning of the selection from his eulogy for Rabbi Weingort printed in Yad sha’ul, 16. For a partial translation of the Rav’s famous hesped “Mah dodekh mi-dod,” which
originally appeared in Hebrew in Hadoar
43:39 (September 27, 1963): 752-759 and is referred to by Rav Weinberg in the
last letter cited above, see Jeffrey Saks, “Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik on the Brisker Method,” Tradition 33:2 (Winter 1999): 50-60.

For further discussion of these and similar sources, see
Judith Bleich, “Between East and West: Modernity and
Traditionalism in the Writings of Rabbi Yehi’el Ya’akov Weinberg
,” in Moshe Z. Sokol
(ed.), Engaging Modernity: Rabbinic
Leaders and the Challenge of the Twentieth Century
(Northvale, NJ;
Jerusalem: Jason Aronson Inc., 1997), 169-273, at p. 239; Marc B. Shapiro, “The Brisker Method Reconsidered,” Tradition 31:3 (Spring 1997): 78-102, at
p. 86, with n. 25; idem, Between the
Yeshiva World and Modern Orthodoxy
, 194-195, with nn. 95-98; and Nathan
Kamenetsky, Making of a Godol: A Study of
Episodes in the Lives of Great Torah Personalities
, vol. 1, 1st
ed. (Jerusalem: Hamesorah, 2002), 432-433. See also Rabbi Eliezer Berkovits’
assessment of his teacher’s derekh
ha-limmud
in “Rabbi Yechiel Yakob Weinberg zatsa”l: My Teacher and Master,” Tradition 8:2 (Summer 1966): 5-14, at
pp. 5-10. For Rav Lichtenstein’s own reflections on the types of criticisms of
the Brisker derekh expressed by Rav
Weinberg, see his “Torat Hesed and Torat Emet: Methodological Reflections,”
in idem, Leaves of Faith, 1:61-87,
esp. at pp. 78-83, as well as an earlier version of this essay cited in
Shapiro, “The Brisker Method Reconsidered,” 93-94. (I am indebted
to Eliyahu Krakowski for bringing the Kamenetsky and Lichtenstein references to
my attention.) See also Aharon Lichtenstein, “The Conceptual Approach to Torah
Learning: The Method and Its Prospects,” in idem, Leaves of Faith, 1:19-60, esp. at pp. 43-44, 48-50.
As an aside, and as far as I can tell, allusions to a
“Rabbi Moses Soloveitchik” in Rav Weinberg’s published works, excluding those made
in the above letters, generally refer not to the Rav’s father (1879–1941) but
to his Swiss first cousin (1915–1995), son of Rabbi Israel Gerson Soloveitchik
(1875–1941), son of Rabbi Hayyim Soloveitchik (1853–1918).
[36]

[36] Indeed, Rav Weinberg would consistently
refer to the Rav in writing by his honorific rabbinic handle, “Ha-g[a’on]
r[abbi] y[osef] d[ov],” or a variant thereof (as in our case); see his Seridei esh, 2:196-201 (sec. 78),
at p. 198 (dated 29 Adar 5716 [March 12, 1956]), and idem, Kitvei ha-ga’on rabbi yehiʼel yaʻakov weinberg, zts”l, 219 n. 4. According to Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World and Modern
Orthodoxy
, 163, Rav Weinberg also contacted the Rav after the War to seek
his assistance during his long recovery.

For the Rav’s part, the postwar written
record with which I am familiar is a bit more reticent, although Rabbi Howard
Jachter reports the following in the context of a discussion of the prohibition
of kol ishah and Rav Weinberg’s
now-famous lenient ruling on the question:
Interestingly, I
asked Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik in July 1985 whether he agrees with this
ruling of Rav Weinberg. The Rav replied, “I agree with everything that he
wrote, except for his permission to stun animals before Shechita” (see volume
one of Teshuvot Seridei Eish). Rav Soloveitchik related his great appreciation
of Rav Yechiel Yaakov Weinberg. Rav Shalom Carmy later told me that Rav
Soloveitchik and Rav Weinberg had been close friends during the years that Rav
Soloveitchik studied in Berlin.
See Howard Jachter, “The Parameters of Kol Isha,” Kol Torah 11:17 (February 2, 2002).
For more on the shehitah controversy referred to here, see H. J. Zimmels, The Echo of the Nazi Holocaust in Rabbinic
Literature
(New York: Ktav Publishing House, Inc., 1977), 183-189; Bleich,
Between East and West,” 260-261, 271-272;
and Shapiro, Between the Yeshiva World
and Modern Orthodoxy
, 117-129, 192. For Rav Soloveitchik’s own involvement
in questions relating to the humane slaughter of animals, see Joseph B.
Soloveitchik, Community, Covenant and
Commitment: Selected Letters and Communications
, ed. Nathaniel Helfgot
(Jersey City, NJ: Toras HoRav Foundation, 2005), 61-67.
[37]

[37] Jeffrey Saks, “Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik and the Israeli Chief
Rabbinate: Biographical Notes (1959–60)
,” BDD 17 (September 2006): 45-67, at p.
53.

[38]

[38] Fig. 3 is courtesy of Naftali Balanson’s
Facebook page, as
brought to my attention by Rabbi Jeffrey Saks. Fig. 4 derives from the video
produced in honor of Rav Lichtenstein’s eightieth birthday here (watch at about
1:03). (I am indebted to Rabbis Dov Karoll, Jeffrey Saks, and Reuven Ziegler
for confirming some of the details of the Lichtenstein wedding for me.)

[39]

[39] See the interview with Rabbi Dov Karoll
on Voice of Israel here
(listen at about 2:55). See also the hesped
of Rabbi Mosheh Lichtenstein here
(listen at about 5:15). Similarly, at a sheloshim
event held at the Hechal Shlomo Jewish Heritage Center in Jerusalem on May 18,
Mrs. Esti
Rosenberg, in speaking of her father’s self-identification with the Levites as
the prime exemplars of ovedei Hashem par excellence, commented that just as the
Levites were netunim netunim to Aaron
and his sons in Parashat be-midbar (Num.
3:9) (which also happened to be Rav Lichtenstein’s bar mitzvah parashah), so was Rav Aharon completely
dedicated to his family. See the video here (watch at about 11:40). And for a
visual representation of just how central avodat
Hashem
was to Rav Lichtenstein’s core identity, see the photograph of his matsevah posted to Yeshivat Har Etzion’s
Facebook page.

[40]

[40] From a forthcoming article to be published
in Jewish Action.

[41]

[41] See his hesped here
(listen at about 10:30).

[42]

[42] See Rav Lichtenstein’s interview with
Yaffi Spodek: “Reflecting
on 50 Years of Torah Leadership
,” the
YUNews blog
(October 11, 2011). Similarly, see this video produced in honor
of Rav Lichtenstein receiving the Israel Prize in 2014 (watch at about 10:20),
as well as the hespedim of Mrs. Esti
Rosenberg here
(listen
at about 8:45) and Rabbi Baruch Gigi here (listen at about 16:30) and the
former’s interview with Yair Sheleg, “Yaledah ahat mul 700 otobusim.” Finally, see Rav Lichtenstein’s sihahOn Raising Children,” where
he states unequivocally: “There are very few people about whom it can […]
genuinely be said that there is something objectively more important in their
life than raising children.”