Should we celebrate birthdays or not? Is it better to ignore them?
By Rav Binyamin Wattenberg

This post was originally an answer posted on july 25 2016 on the French website techouvot.com (https://www.techouvot.com/feter_les_anniversaires-vp46393.html).

The author agreed to have it translated into English but did not review the translation.

The author, Rav Binyamin Wattenberg teaches Talmud in Neuilly sur Seine, France, among other talmudic activities (techouvot.com…)

This subject is widely debated in our sefarim. Some are convinced that it is entirely a “non-Jewish” custom which is important not to follow, but I think that it is rather because of ignorance of what has been written on the subject.

I will try to summarize the different rabbinical positions with their reason, and as we will see we can find anything and everything.

GOOD MAZAL

The Yerushalmi Rosh Hashana (III, 8) relates that Amalek placed soldiers on their birthday at the battle front because they would have a good “mazal” and Moshe had to “mix mazalot”. Korban Haeda explains that by raising his hands, Moshe “mixed / disturbed” the Mazalot to counter the good mazal of Amalek’s warriors.

This idea is also found in the Chida who writes (Chomat Anakh, Iyov 3) on behalf of the Kabbalists that the birthday is a day of good mazal.[1]

That would explain the wish of the day: Mazal Tov!

There is also Rabbi Tsadok Hacohen Rabinovicz of Lublin in his Resisei Layla (Divrei Chalomot 20) who writes that a man has nothing to fear on his birthday and while the Gmara Kiddushin (38a) says that Tzadikim die on their birthday (and therefore have something to fear about), it is because for them, death is an accession to a higher level (and is therefore a positive occasion).[2]

There is a more plausible explanation of the Maguen Avraham in his Zayis Raanan on Yalkut Shimoni (‘Habakkuk 3) who answers that it is a blessing for the tzaddik to die on his birthday because “the Holy One, Blessed be He, sits and completes the years of the righteous from day to day” (Kiddushin 38a, Sotah 13b and Rosh Hashana 11a).[3]

But some consider that this good mazal on this day concerns only non-Jews (like Amalek).[4]

This is perhaps why we find several authors who are very reluctant about the idea that a Jew could celebrate such a day.

AGAINST CELEBRATING:

For example, in his Torah Shleima (Vayeshev p.1522 note 49), Rav Menachem Kasher quotes a manuscript (Chemat Hachemda) commentary on Bereshit 40, 20, that still today, non-Jews celebrate birthdays (meaning that Jews do not).[5]

Certainly, in the Gmara (Moed Katan 28a) we are told that Rav Yossef celebrated his 60th birthday, but that also indicates that he did not celebrate his other birthdays – neither he nor the other Amoraim – and it is only for its 60th that he wished to celebrate because – as he says it – it excluded Karet’s punishment.

The Minchat Elazar (the Munkasz’ Rebbe) writes[6] that there is nothing to celebrate on one’s birthday since the Sages tell us (Eruvin 13b) that it would have been better for the man not to be born.[7]

It is also the position of many authors, such as : Rav Horovitz of Strasbourg (and then of Badats of Jerusalem) in his Shout Kinian Torah Bahalacha (III, §21), Arugat Habossem (II, §215),[8] Abelsohn (Shut Knesset Avraham Yoel, §6 p.116 – linked with Shut Etz Chaim),[9] R. Tsadok Hacohen (Likutei Maamarim §13, p.140), the Klausenburg-Sanz Rebbe (Michtevei Torah II, 82 p.55), Rav Shlomo Zalman Bloch (Hatzadik R. Shlomo, p.29, ot 18), Patsovsky rav (Pardes Yosef Vayeshev Milouim p.48 and in the new edition, Bereshit II, p.777), Rav Dunner (Leket Sheelot Hametzuyot IV, p.13 and Kol Hatorah 65, p.164), Rav Stern (Beer Moshe) and Rav Wozner (Shevet Halevy) both quoted by Rav Harfenes in Beit Vaad LaChachamim (adar 2009, p.356), Shut Lehorot Natan (IX, §5, 9),[10] Gdulat Yehoshua (Chelek 2, Hakdama), Rav Shmuel Mohliver (Midei Chodesh BeChodsho, II, Jerusalem 1957, p.192 and Shana Beshana 1976, p.237).

In Hapeles (shana III, 1903, p.633) it cites the Beer Yitzchak of rav Itzchak Ber Levinzohn (p.34) stating that birthdays were non-Jewish holidays close to Avoda zara, although this Rav himself was close to Haskala![11]

The Kinian Torah Bahalacha (III, §21) is also opposed to celebrating birthdays, and quotes in support the Vizhnits’ Rebbe, Ahavat Israel, who refused to make a seuda for his 70th birthday and recited a lot of Tehilim and Bakachot instead.[12]

Rav Israel of Rouzhin also vigorously refused the surprise birthday organized by his wife and dismissed all the guests.[13]

The Otsar Kol Minhaguei Yeshurun (4th ed., §XXVII, 4, p.60 and 3rd ed., St Louis 1917-8, Hashmatot §14, p.304) considers that celebrating one’s birthday is a non-Jewish custom and the only character in the Choumash that one finds celebrating his birthday is Paro.[14]

It seems that it is also the opinion of the Aderet in his Nefesh David (p.129) who did not appreciate when we wished him a happy birthday, saying that it was never a holiday among the Jews and that the only one that one finds celebrating his birthday in the Chumash is Pharaoh, while the Gmara Erouvin (13b) tells us that it would have been better not to be born … He even states that he tries to forget that it is his birthday because it causes him great sadness[15] (because “it is better not to be born …”).[16]

He emphasizes, however, that the Tzadikim have something to celebrate their birth, according to the opinion of Tosfot (Avoda Zara 5a).

He nevertheless rejoiced on the day of his 60 years for the same reasons as Rav Yosef in Moed Katan (28a), as he wrote in a letter (Eder Hayakar II, Igrot, p.93, §14 ).

Not that you have to be ashkenaz to oppose birthdays. The Rav Chalfon Moshe HaC ohen in his Yad Moshe (Vayeshev, §63 daf 70b) writes that the custom of celebrating birthdays is very present in Europe, but we (the Jews) mark this date with fasting and repentance, preferring in this the useful to the pleasant.

There is in any case a very clear tendency to connect the birthday party to Pharaoh and that would therefore be considered as a “non-Jewish” rejoicing.[17]

IN FAVOR OF CELBRATING BIRTHDAYS :

However, one could just as easily see things differently.

For the Sadigura Rebbe,[18] if the Torah tells us that there was a celebration in honor of Pharaoh’s birthday, it is not in vain, it is here for us to learn that we must celebrate birthdays. And even though Pharaoh is not a good person, the fact that the Torah mentions it indicates it has to be a followed practice. He brings as a support we learn the principle of not mixing two feasts (ein mearvin simcha bessimcha) from the Torah relating the habit of the non-Jews and particulary Lavan (see Bereshit XXIX, 27 and see Yeroushalmi Moed Katan I, 7) ; and Lavan is also the source for the idea of the seven days of wedding’s festivities.

Therefore, it should not be considered as a non-Jewish minhag, and there is no problem of Chukot hagoyim in celebrating birthdays (see also Shut Beth David, §176).

Rabbi Meir Mazouz also writes (annotations on Ben Ish Chai shana 1, Ree §7, p.580) that he has heard that some people are against celebrating birthdays but since he remembers reading that the Baal Shem Tov was celebrating his – on Elul 18th – and deduces that there is no problem.[19]

His brother-in-law, Rav Yitzchak Berdah, is even clearer in his Shut Yitzak Yeranen (V, §54) and validates the birthdays minhag by writing that those who do so have whom to rely upon.

Rav Nissim Karelitz (Chut Hashani, §195, 1, 6 p.215), unlike Rav Zeldner cited above, does not seem to consider it problematic to offer a birthday present.[20]

Ben Ish Chai (I, Ree, §17) writes that it is a good custom to celebrate birthdays every year and note that some are celebrating the anniversary of their circumcision, indicating that in his family, they usually follow the first minhag (= celebrate the day of birth).[21]

R. Avraham Pallagi in his Veavraham Zaken (Yod, §19) mentions also the minhag of celebrating birthdays. Yabia Omer (VI, WH, §29) also finds this positive.

The custom of a birthday seuda, has also been endorsed by multiple and different authors such as’ Havot Yair (§70), Shout Beth Israel (Landau) (§32), Beer Moshe (Yeroushalaimsky) (Maamar Zikhron Tov, daf 138a, §5).

The Tiferet Israel, in his will prompts his children to mutually wish each other good wishes on the days of their respective birthdays (Hamaayan -Tamuz 1971- ot 6).

It is also a habit taken seriously by Loubavitsh Chassidim. The chabad literature is full of advice and remarks on to conduct oneself on one’s birthday and even tracks sources for it in Kabbalah (Shaarei Halakha UMinhag II, §302).

We also find many Tzadikim who have celebrated their birthdays themselves.

Rabbi Avraham Pallagi already mentioned, celebrated his birthday every year from the age of 70 – according to the testimony of his son Rabbi Avraham Pallagi (Tsavaa Mechaim §40 and see also Guinzei Chaim, yud §16). And this is also the case of Rabbi David Chazan quoted in Yishrei Lev (daf 2b).[22]

We also find the Midrash Sechel Tov (XL, 20 ; p.247) stating that “the majority of “people” enjoy (mechavevim) their birthday, rejoice and make a feast”. (But it’s not clear if he speaks only of gentiles or also of jews.)

The Ktav Sofer probably did not celebrate each of his birthdays with great fanfare, but celebrated his 50th one publicly (see Shut Ktav Sofer Y “D, §148).[23]

We also know – as mentioned above – that Rav Yosef celebrated his 60th birthday (Moed Katan 28a).

And this habit was followed by several rabanim, such as the Trumat Hadeshen, quoted by his pupil (Leket Yosher II, Y “D, p.40), or the Tshortkov Rebbe and the Rudzimin’s Rabbi both cited by R.A Nayerman in his Toafot Reem (volume 1, Warsaw 1936, p.30, §23).

We also find the idea of especially ​​thanking G-d on one’s 60^th birthday, as Pele Yoets in his Chesed Laalafim (§221-230, sk.8, p.372) who advocates reciting Shehechiyanu without shem UMalchut or else to prepare a fruit or a new garment for that. This is also the Ben Ish Chai’s opinion (I, Ree, §9) for the 60th and 70^th birthday.

For the 70^th birthday, we find in Shut Chavot Yair (§70) that it is necessary to recite Shehechiyanu (without restriction). But this opinion is not followed and the Chida (Birkei Yosef-Shiyurei Bracha §223, sk.2) will impose the same restrictions as for 60^th birthday, i.e without pronouncing the name of G-d or wearing a new garment (or eating a new fruit).

See as well the Pri Megadim (Mish Zahav §444, sk.9), Shut Tzitz Eliezer (XVIII, §33), Shut Tshuva Meahava (II, §239), Samach Nefesh (erekh Shehechyanu), Rabbi Avraham Pallagi (Tsavaa Mechaim, §40), Hagahot Chatam Sofer (O.C §225), Shut R. Yedidia Tia Weill (Y “D §106 p.224 of the recent edition), Kaf Hachaim (§223, sk.28), Shut Beth Israel (Landau) (§32), Shut Beth David (§176), Chesed Laalafim (§221-23, sk.8), Divrei Israel (II, p.175) and Afarkasta Deania (I, §123), who all oppose reciting shehchiyanu “only because of the 70^th birthday”, since this blessing should only be recited for the situations indicated by Chazal, as Shut Olat Shmuel (Kauder) writes (I, §22 ).[24]

However, it will still be necessary to mark the hit. The Chafetz Chaim, for his 70th birthday, invited rav Elchanan Wasserman and rav Yossef Shlomo Kahaneman for a little cake and drink and recited Shehechiyanu! (Mishnat Yaakov II, §225).

But according to other sources (Hechafetz Chaim, chayav UPealo, p.312), he did it (on his 70^th birthday) on a new garment.[25]

The Chafetz Chaim also celebrated his 90th birthday and finished his Beth Israel that day (see Hechafetz Chaim, chayav UPealo, p.25).

I was myself invited to the 80th birthday (the last one) of my teacher Rabbi Chaim Yaakov Rottenberg (see Shut Beth Israel -Landau- §32), he did not recite shehechiyanu, but there was cake anyway.

Rav Fishman-Maïmon also celebrated his 80th birthday, and Rav Reuven Margulies participated to the “party” (Machanayim LXXII of Elul 5722 -1962, page 41).

Rav Nathan Adler, from London, traveled to Hanover, Germany for his mother’s 80th birthday (Letter from Rav Shlomo Eiger, printed in Igrot Sofrim, 1, p.83).

It seems that Rav Sonnenfeld also “celebrated” his 80th birthday and Rav Mendel Alter (son of the Sfas Emes) presented him his wishes despite some hesitation about the dubious origin of the birthday minhag (see his letter printed in Kerem Shlomo – Bobov – vol.205, p.47).

But for the 60 years, it is likely that there was nothing dubious, since his older brother, since the Imrei Emes, organized his (the Imrei Emes) 60^th birthday party and during the meal he explained the reason for rejoicing, i.e Moed Katan 28a (Shut Maharaav – R. Avraham Binyamin Zilberberg – NY 1941, Volume 2, §61).

Returning to the 70^th birthday, Rav Schneebalg (Shut Shraga Haméir IV, §69) was in favor of celebrating it.

Sdei Chemed also celebrated his (Hameassef X, Tevet 5665, IV, p.43 and p.46), and it is also the case of the Vizhnitz rebbe who celebrated it joyfully with his pupils (Israel Saba Kadisha, II, p. 177). This is also what Rav Michael Goldberger did.[26]

In 1860, for Shir’s 70th birthday (Rav Shlomo Yehuda Rapoport), his students had prepared a feast and honors for him, but he refused the honors, humbly explaining that he was born in the year Takan / TIKEN (1790) but he has not been Metaken – Ma Tikanti? (Toldot Shir of Bernfeld, p.126).

See also Voice of Truth (p.282-3) or in Hebrew Kol Chotsev (p.263-4) about the 70th birthday of Rav Schwadron.[27]

We ca find another rationale for the celebration of the 70^th birthday. In the Mekor Chesed (Rav Reouven Margulies) on Sefer Chasidim (§213, note 1 ), it brings that the Yerushalmi (Yevamot VIII, 3) states that a plague occurs (at least) once every 60 or 70 years. Therefore, whoever reaches his 70 years has certainly escaped the plague that has declared “in his day”, and that’s a good reason to make a “seudat Hodaa”!

Finally, we even find in the Orchot Chaim (Bukhner) (Krakow edition 1654, §16) that the 60th and 70th birthday’s meals are of the nature of a Seudat Mitzvah.

We realize therefore that many (to the exception of those mentioned in the previous part) view positively the birthday party, and especially those of the 60^th and 70^th one. But we still have to define what should be done to celebrate a birthday properly.

HOW TO CELEBRATE?

On one’s birthday, it is proper to :

– as we have seen bless Shehechyanu on a fruit or a new garment (Shut Guinzei Yossef §4, 2 quoting his father-in-law, Rav Deutsch, author of Shut Pri Hassadé);

– give a lot of tzedakah (R. Chaim Pallagi in Tzedaka Lechaim – maarechet ayin §555)

– make it a “day of prayer” (Melitsei Esh p.54)

– dedicate this day or at least most of it for divine service (Torat Shalom-Schneersohn-p.398 ; Kerem Habad II, p.102 ; see also Hapardes, year 62 volume 9, p.2 on the name of the Lubavitsh Rebbe)

– learn a lot (Shut Hillel Omer, O “H §139).[28]

One should also be careful to reserve a moment for introspection and Cheshbon Hanefesh over the past year, as the Chut Hameshoulash (Munkasz edition 1893, volume 1, daf 59b-60a footnote) brings about the Ktav Sofer who had locked up hiself on his birthday (54^th one) and someone who mistakenly entered the room found him sitting on the floor crying, and asked him what was happening to which he replied that he was crying over the loss of time over the past years (see also the preface to Ktav Sofer Al Hatorah, p.29)

In Shut Hadar (§18), the author states that his master – the Rav of Stretin – wanted to have an aliyah to the Torah on his birthday (which is not feasible every year …). In the same vein, the Divrei Yechezkel Shraga (parshat Vayakel) and the Tehilat Caim (p.409) bring down that the Divrei Yechezkel of Shinova wanted to be shaliach tzibur on his birthday (which is practicable more often). And this is also what R. Shaul Broch did (Shaul Behir Hashem, Ashkavta derabbi, p.275)

See also Torat Shalom (p. 406) who – for his birthday – advocates having an aliyah to the Torah, giving tzedakah, adding moments of prayer, tehilim, study and introspection, bless shehechiyanu on a fruit or a garnment (etc).

I have also read in the name Spinka Rebbe quoted in the Shut Chakal Yitzchak (I, 3) that it is appropriate on one’s birthday, to take upon oneself the commitment on something one knows he has to work on.[29]

There is also a notion of making a Siyum on a birthday.

Several rabanim wanted to make a siyum on their birthday, the Terumat Hadeshen did one on his 60th birthday (Leket Yosher II, Y “D, p.40).

See also Leket Hakemach (131) that it is appropriate to mix this rejoicing with a siyum massechet.

Thus, the Chatam Sofer planned that the end of the cycle of chumash study with his pupils falls on his birthday – the 7th Tishri (Minhaguei CS, VII, §14, p.31).[30]

His son Ktav Sofer also completed a massechet each year on his birthday (Chout Hameshoulash ed Munkasz 1893, Volume 1, daf 59b footnote).

Another fact deserves to be emphasized:

In the Sheerit Natan (p.392 ; quoted in Or Israel 46, p.249) we find a very particular siyum minhag that was taking place at Yeshivat Chachmei Lublin, every 7th Adar, birthday of the Rosh yeshiva Rabbi Meir Shapira (initiator of the study of Daf Yomi). Talmud treatises were “dispatched”, and each student took a massechet or half of it, in order that they altogether fnished Shas in one night, so that on the next day, the 7th of Adar, they were all together making a great Siyum Hashas with the Rav.

All this being said, personally, I will be tempted to give an argument in favor of those who celebrate their birthdays, but I have not seen any Acharon underlining this aspect (except Torat Shalom -Schneersohn (p.399-400 ) I found recently):

The halacha is to celebrate annually a miracle that would have happened to us (see Mishna Berura end of §218), for example the one who survives a fatal accident must celebrate this event every year.

If it is so, given the great danger of a baby birth, one could consider that it is necessary to celebrate the miracle of his birth each year.

True, nowadays, in civilized countries, the risk of miscarriage is pretty much reduced and infant mortality has also fallen down, B “H, but if the minhag has been implanted since a time when it was not the case, we may continue this custom because the danger is still not totally absent.

Only that according to this, it should also be that each mom celebrates the birthday of each of her children, because she also escaped death that day.

And, according to this rationale, we should celebrate the Hebrew date rather than the civil one.[31]

Anyway, even if no halakhic argument would push to celebrate the birthdays (and it is probable because we proved Moed Katan 28a that the Amoraim did not celebrate any birthday, only Rav Yosef distinguished itself by celebrating 60 years old – and only that one …), there is another reason, especially for children: nowadays this custom is widespread and children are sometimes misled and are tempted to move away from family. It is beneficial to show each child in the family that he is important and at least one day a year, we celebrate together. He becomes the hero of a day.

See also, a bit in this way, Kitvei Reb Eizik (Schwei) (p.273) and Torat Shalom (p.405).

At the time of the Talmud, it was not necessary, but today it can be according to the situations, the families and the place.

It would be inappropriate to say that since the Amoraim did not celebrate them, we must refrain from doing so.

To refrain from them at their time meant nothing particular, because no one was celebrating them (among the Jews at least). Today it would have another meaning for the child …

It cannot be said that he fails to celebrate, but that those who are accustomed to it should not lose it under a “religious” pretext, they must perhaps channel its spirit and enhance it by making it look, more “kadosh”, by giving more meaning to it.

See also Shut Mayim Hahalacha (Metzger) (IV, §46) who writes that it is necessary to know how to give a kedusha spirit to birthdays and not to celebrate them in frivolity.

More generally, Rav Shach used to say (see Machshevet Zkenim p.342 and also p.141 and 332) that each birthday brings us closer to death, so why rejoice? That is why only the “ben aliya”, the one who progresses from year to year in the Torah, must rejoice, because each passing year carries a new advance in Avodat Hashem, so it is closer to Chayei Netsach, the reverse of death, for the tzaddikim are called alive even after their death (Brakhot 18a).

Once a rav had suggested to the great and famous Rav Yechezkel Lewinstein – when he was mashgiach of Ponovez – to suppress the minhag of the “Santukha” (small celebration among friends of the Yeshiva when one of them is engaged) for it is systematically engaged in flattery to highlight the qualities of the chatan and the speaker, in a laudatory spirit, sometimes praises too much, which necessarily leads to a uncontrollable feeling of pride so repudiated by Baalei Moussar.

Rav Lewinstein exclaimed: “Once in the life of a man it happens that his friends give him compliments and even that you want to suppress?! “

IN CONCLUSION: It is perfectly legitimate to wish and celebrate birthdays, but you must know how to do it.

Those who are not used to accompany a family snack with Cheshbon Hanefesh are not required to adopt this minhag. But those who already celebrate this day with a small party should not abandon this beautiful habit because of some rabbis who grumble against birthdays; as we have seen, the rabbis who attached importance to these moments of rejoicing are very numerous and to the extent that one does not feast bestially but for a constructive purpose, with a feeling of Hodaa, Tshuva and introspection, it’s a very good Minhag.

Is there a rotten apple in the Tu-BeShevat Fruit Basket?

By Dan Rabinowitz and Eliezer Brodt

[This post is heavily updated from an earlier Seforim Blog post – here]

Some claim that the origins of the custom to celebrate Tu-beShevat as a holiday that includes eating fruits and other rituals, is Sabbatean. In the main, this assertion is based upon identifying  the work Hemdat Yamim as the source for Tu-beShevat as a holiday and eating fruit and other rituals.  Thus, an article in Ha’aretz trumpets, “The New Year for the Trees, Isn’t it for Sabbatai Zvi.” And the National Library of Israel’s blog includes a post “The Holiday of Tu-beShevat is an Auspicious Time to Pray for the Only (?!) Jewish False Messiah.”  They even include this photoshopped image.

However, a closer look at the history reveals, that although some of the customs on Tu-beShevat can be traced to Hemdat Yamim the actual celebration dates much earlier. Contrary to the popular song, Tu-beShevat hegihu hag ha-ilannot, the 15th of Shevat was not a “chag” of the trees.  Instead, the earliest discussions regarding Tu-beShevat do not mention any holiday associated with the day.  The first Mishna in Rosh Hashana, identifies the 15th of Shevat as the new year for trees.  This designation merely defines how to calculate annualized tithes and is otherwise silent as to the significance of the date.  One can’t tithe fruits from one year using a different year’s fruits. Thus the 15th of Shevat is the cut-off point. [For other contemporaneous examples see Safrai, Mishnat Erets Yisrael, Mesekhet Rosh HaShana (Jerusalem:  Mehlelet Lifshitz, 2011), 305-06]. It was not until R. Gershom’s time that there were any of the traditional holiday markers, but only that fasting is prohibited.

The first mention of the custom to eat fruit and other holiday rituals appears in 16th century Machzor, published between 1548 and 1550. 

That Machzor follows the Ashkenazi rite and includes a discussion of customs according to that rite and the commentary of R. Benyamin ha-Levi Ashkenazi, Ma’aglei Tzedek. He was the rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in Saloniki (of contemporary interest is that he records the death of four of his sons during a plague).   This source, however, was not well-known, and, historically, a different, later, source is identified.  For example, Avraham Ya’ari in his otherwise comprehensive article claims that R. Issachar ibn Susan (c. 1510-1580) is the first mention.  Susan, in his Ibur Shanim, published in 1578, provides that “the Ashkenazim have the custom [on Tu-beShevat] to eat many fruits in honor of the day,” confirming the custom recorded in the Machzor.  1578 was the first authorized printing of R. Susan’s work but not the first time this custom is associated with him.  In 1564, Shlomo Rie published Susan’s Tikkun Yissachar.  (Ibur Shanim 48b and Tikkun Yissachar 62a).  Susan, in Ibur Shanim, accuses Rie of publishing an unauthorized edition, one that contains errors and unacknowledged additions by Rie. Ibur Shanim includes a corrected and otherwise only slightly modified version of Tikkun Yissachar.  [See Susan’s introduction; see also Yaakov Shmuel Spiegal, Amudim be-Tolodot Sefer ha-Ivri: Hadar Mechaber (Jerusalem, 2018), 321-22.]

Mention of this custom also appeared in a Judeo-German Minhagim book first published in 1590. “The custom is to eat many fruits as it is the New Year of the trees.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the community of Worms, there was a rather interesting variation of the custom. As R. Jousep Schammes (1604-1678) in his custom-book states:

On Purim and the 15 of Av and Shevat these were vacation days for the Rabbis, . . . [on the 15th of Shevat] one says tehina even during the morning prayer. It is a vacation day for the students and the teachers, especially the younger students, it is a day of feasting and joy for or the teachers and their students. The custom is for the teachers to distribute whiskey to the students and make merry with them.”  Minhagei [de-Kehilah Kedosha] Vermisai le-Rebi Joszpa Shamesh (Jerusalem:  Machon Yerushalim, 1988), 249-50, no. 211.

Magen Avraham

The Magen Avraham cites the Tikkun Yissachar as the earliest source for the custom to eat fruits on the 15th of Shevat.  This, despite the fact that he had accessed, and indeed quotes on many occasions, the Machzor with the Maageli Tzedek commentary. See, e.g.,

נה:יז, פח:ג, קלא:י, תכז:א, תלא:ה, תלז:יז, תכז:א, תנ:יב, תנג:יא, תקפא:ד, תקפא:ז, תקפא:ח, תקפב:ח, תקפג:ב תקפד:ג, תקפט:ד, תרכד:ז, תרכט:ה, תרנא:יט, תרנא:כא, תרנח:יב, תרסא:, תרע:ב [2X], תרעב:ה, תרעג:ז, תרפא:א, תרפח:יא, תרצ:יט, תרצא:ח

While he had access to the Machzor, he did not have access to the Tikkun Yissachar.  The Magen Avraham quotes the Tikkun Yissachar on a few occasions, but always via a secondary source. See Brodt Halachic Commentaries to the Shulchan Aruch on Orach Chayim from Ashkenaz and Poland in the Seventeenth Century (PHD Bar Ilan 2015), pp. 68-69. The Mekor Chaim in O.C. 686:1 is the first to point to the Machzor for this minhag.

The halachot in the Machzor were collected by  Yitzhak Hershkowitz ed., Maglei Tzedek (Jerusalem, 2000), pp. 156-157.  Regarding R. Benyamin see Y.S. Emmanuel, Matsavos Saloniki, vol. 1 (Jerusalem, 1973), 36, 68-69; Meir Benayahu, “Rebi Shmuel Yaffa Ashkenazi,” in Tarbiz, 42 (1973), 423-24 and note 37; M.S. Molcho, Matsevot Bet ha-Olamin she Yehudi Saloniki (Tel Aviv, 1975), 59-60; Yitzhak Rivkin, “Dikdukei Soferim,” in Kiryat Sefer 4 (1927), 278 no. 32; Daniel Goldschmidt, Mehkerei Tefillah u-Piyyut, 252-65, Meir Benayahu, Defus ha-Ivri be-Kremonah (Jerusalem, 1971), 141-78. About Knesset Hagedolah and being a Sabbatean see Brodt, Halachic Commentaries to the Shulchan Aruch on Orach Chayim from Ashkenaz and Poland in the Seventeenth Century, pp. 56; Brodt, Yeshurun 35 ( 2016 )p. 775; See also the recent work, R. Shmuel Ashkenazi, Igrot Shmuel (2021)-, 1, pp. 4-5. 

R. Shmuel Ashkenazi

As the Seforim Blog just published Iggrot Shmuel from R. Shmuel Ashkenazi (see here and here) we reprint two letters from his collection, one discussing the origins of the holiday of the 15th of Shevat and the other Hemdat Yamim.

Notes:

Additional sources discussing the 15th of Shevat, see  Meir Rafeld, Netivi Meir, (2013), 185-189; R Mandelbaum, Tehilah Ledovid (Jerusalem, 1993);  Guttman, Otzar TuBeshvat.

Tikkun Yissachar was republished in 1988 with an excellent introduction from R. Betzalel Landau.  Most recently, in 2019, it was reprinted and re-typeset, with additional notes. This edition also includes R Landau’s introduction and another introduction of material about the work. See also Elisheva Carlebach, Palaces of Time: Jewish Calendar and Culture in Early Modern Europe (London: Belknap, 2011),  51-58; יוסף הקר, ‘יששכר אבן סוסאן עליית כוהנים לתורה בשמחת חתנים’, בתוך: ‘מנחה למנחם’, קובץ מאמרים לכבוד ר’ מנחם כהן, בעריכת חנה עמית, אביעד כהן וחיים באר, ירושלים תשס”ח, עמ’ 79-97

Regarding Hagiz, see Elisheva Carlebach, The Pursuit of Heresy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1990).

After the Birkat Eliyahu was published it was attacked by some rabbis.  See Meir Benayahu, “Sefarim she-Hiburum R. Moshe Hagiz she-Hotsyim le-Or,” in Ali Sefer 4 (1977), 143, 150-52; see also Shlomo Yaakovovitch, “Sefer Shehitot u-Bedikot le-R’ Yaakov Weil,” in Tsefunot 4 (1989), 112; Carlebach, Pursuit of Heresy, 247-49. Regarding R. Eliyahu see Y. Halpern, Pinkas Vaad Arba Arotsot (Jerusalem, 1990) 362; Tzvi Horowitz, Le-Tolodot ha-Kehilot be-Polin (Jerusalem, 1989), 1.

The literature on Hemdat Yamim is substantial and we hope to return to the work in an upcoming post.  For the most recent discussion see Y. Goldhaber, “Le-Birur Zehuto shel Mehaber Hemdat Yamim,” in  Sefer Zikhoron le-Professor Meir Benayahu, vol. 2 (Jerusalem: Karmel, 2019), 873-908.

Huss’s article appears as Boaz Huss, “Ha-Ets ha-Nehmad ben Yishi Hayi al ha-Adama: al Mekoro ha-Sabbatai shel Seder 15 Shevat,” in Sefer Zikhoron le-Professor Meir Benayahu, vol. 2 (Jerusalem: Karmel, 2019), 909-20.

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 b’tziltzlei 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 zarqa–segol 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.

2. 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.