One of the reasons, however, the practice of illustrating the haggadah, can be found in the discussion which sheds light on the custom of pretending or assuming that Eliyahu, who according to legend, visits each home on Pesach night.

The last cup of wine poured is for Eliyahu. While originally this cup was not necessarily connected to Eliyahu, today it has become associated with him. The cup of Eliyahu is not mentioned until the 15th century. Various reasons are given. The Gra explains as there is a controversy whether one must drink 4 or 5 cups, a controversy which will be resolved only when Eliyahu comes. (Divrei Eliyahu, Parshat Va’arah p. 35). The earliest source to discuss the cup, R. Zeligman Benga (student of Mahril), says that the custom to pour a cup for Eliyahu is as the night of Passover is an auspicious night for redemption, we await Eliyahu’s coming and therefore we need a cup for him.

A rather interesting custom sprang up in connection with Eliyahu’s visit on Pesach night. R. Jousep Schammes (1604-1678), records that the custom in Worms was to draw depictions of Eliyahu and the Messiah in order to bring to life the belief in these figures. As you can see from the pictures on the side, this was common in the Haggadah. The first picture is a depiction of Messiah on his donkey. This was originally depicted in smaller format in the Prague 1526 haggadah, but in this edition, Mantua, 1560 is greatly enlarged. The second picture comes from the Venice 1629 hagaddah. As you can see it is again the Messiah coming in to Jerusalem, but note the prominence of the Dome of the Rock in the center.

In Frankfort they went one step further than just drawing Eliyahu and the Messiah. R. Yosef Jousep Hahn (1570-1637) says they used to hang a dummy who looked like Eliyahu or the Messiah behind the door. When they would open the door for Eliyahu the dummy would drop down and seem as if he had appeared. (He then goes on to record a long story of a dybuk who invaded the body of a women who questioned whether the Exodus happened.) It is worthwhile noting that not everyone was thrilled with these depictions. R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach (1639-1702) who became the Rabbi in Worms at the very end of his life, says these types of things only make a mockery of the seder.

However, we see from the above, that there was, at least among some, an effort to create a feeling that Eliyahu actually would visit the seder. Some did it through pictures, others through reenactments. Although today those have fallen to the wayside, it would seem the idea that Eliyahu actually drinks from the cup is a form of those methods.

Sources: Yerusalmi, Haggadah and History; Shmuel and Zev Safrai, Haggadah of the Sages, p 177-78. Minhagei Vermisai, p. פז; R. Y. Bacharach, Mekor Hayyim.

Of late, much has been made of high governmental officials and their use of prostitutes. A striking parrall can be found in the writings of R. Yaakov Emden. R. Emden records that one of the parnasim, a representative of the Altona Jewish community, who went to Copenhagen for the inauguration of the king [Frederick III?] on behalf of the Altona Jews. While he was there, he squandered “thousands” from the community funds to engage prostitutes. Similarly, R. Emden relates that in Hamburg in 1764, after Kol Nidrei, a non-Jewish woman made a scene in shul claiming that her three children’s father was a Jew, and that he should take the children and support them.

Prostitution, much like today, appears to be a fascination of the public. It appears this is not a new phenomenon, instead, R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai, in his travelogue Ma’agel Tov, records his impressions of Paris when he was there in 1777. [The Hida really liked Paris, and although this was not his first visit there, he still provides many interesting details.] He states:

Paris is a huge city, some 15 miles wide, with wide streets so wide that two carriages can pass each other even with people hanging on the sides, and the Seine river flows through Paris and that is where Parisians get their water. There is a bridge, the Pont Neuf, and this bridge is so busy that day or night there are always people on it . . . In fact the saying goes at any hour one can find on the Pont Neuf a white horse, a priest, and prostitute. The city of Paris is beautiful and one can find everything there, however, it is all expensive, the one exception being prostitutes – and it is known that there are 30,000 prostitutes that are available for anyone. That number does not include the thousands that are specialized for particular persons.

Throughout the middle ages, in the Iberian peninsula, there was a debate whether having prostitutes available was better on the whole. Two rationales were offered as a justification for prostitution. The first, that if people use prostitutes they won’t fall prey to adultery, a much more serious sin. And second, that there was in various times and places laws that punished by death Jewish and non-Jewish intercourse. Without Jewish prostitutes, Jews may violate that prohibition and be subject to death – typically burning. Thus, having Jewish prostitutes was allowed for the very pragmatic reason as a balance of harms, or the greater good, that is, it avoided these two other negative outcomes.

R. Yitzhak Arama famously decried these justifications. In explaining the sin of the people of Sedom, he put forth the notion that although individuals may sin, any time a community sanctions sins, that creates a much more serious communal crime. And that, he says, was why Sodom was unique in being utterly destroyed although there were numerous other instances of serious sin throughout Tanach that did not suffer the fate of Sodom. R. Armama then continues and applies the explanation for the destruction Sodom to his own times. He explains that for this reason he fought against those communities that sanctioned prostitution. While it may be correct that there is some way to justify prostitution, a community can never sanction illegal behavior. He offered that the ramifications of not having prostitutes was not to be considered, in no way could a community allow for such behavior. [This holding of R. Arama is used by many in many varied instances, see R. Ovadiah Yosef, Yabeah Omer, Orach Hayyim vol. 1, no. 30:15).]

R. Yitzhak ben Sheshet Perfet (Rivash) speaks of the “Gedoli Ha-Dor” who used the very rationale rejected by R. Arama to justify prostitution:

“The Gedolei Ha-Dor averted their eyes [from Jewish prostitution] based on the rationale that if we do not allow the sinners to utilize prostitutes they will sin with non-Jews and they will be subject to burning.”

Similarly, R. Yehuda ben Ha-Rosh received a similar query in that he was asked whether the position “of some people who say that they should force the prostitutes out of the Jewish area as they are in violation of the prohibition against kadasha and further they do not go to the mikveh thus causing people to be punished with karet, however, there are those who say that it is better to have the prostitutes remain in the city so that Jews will not resort to going to non-Jews thereby putting their lives in danger.” R. Yehuda responded, like R. Arama, that “the law does not follow ‘those who say’ and they should remove the prostitutes. A Latin document records a troubling incident from 1404 where, “a German speaking Jew visited a non-Jewish prostitute on Shabbat and he refused to pay her, he explained that he could not pay her as it would violate the Shabbat.”

Skipping ahead a few years to 1675, we come to the Takkanot of Frankfurt which states “that one is required to remove the prostitutes within six month from the Jewish area . . . And they cannot remain even as servants, even if they are kept for free. But, if the householder is willing to pay a two Reichthaller a week fine, then they can be kept, however, should they miss even a week’s payment then they must leave.” In Fuerth, a law was required to be enacted that single mothers could not circumcise their sons in the shul.

Finally, we turn to R. Yechezkel Landau, author of Shu”t Noda B’Yehuda, and although he is not discussing prostitution in general, but it is worthwhile to mention a specific case of Havah Bernstein, wife of the Chief Rabbi of Brody, R. Areyeh Leib Bernstein. According to the testimony of two people (and perhaps others), Havah was accused of acting as a prostitute. After this testimony came to light there was a celebrated controversy regarding the status of this woman vis-a-vis her husband. It appears, due to the Chief Rabbi’s powerful secular connections he was able to shut down any discussion about his wife (although there are several responsa on the topic). And specifically, there was a decree that anyone who called the Chief Rabbi’s wife a prostitute would be subject to a fine of 100 adumim for each statement to that effect. So, R. Landau showed up to court and made the following announcement:

“Everyone should know that the wife of the Chief Rabbi is a prostitute and there is a fine, 100 adumim for each utterace that she is a prostitute, and you should also all know that if I had more money I would call her a prostitute again, however I currently do not have the money I will have to satisfy myself with the fact that I have already called her a prostitute.”

Thus, R. Landau was able to call her a prostitute four times for the price of one. (Mofes Ha-Dor p. 9).

Sources: For the medieval sources see Grossman, Hassidut U-Morodot Jerusalem, 2003), 229-56 (see also where Grossman cites to those who question the truth of the Latin account and discusses other areas during the medieval period); R. Arama, Akedat Yitzhak, parshat Veyerah, Gate 20; Hida, Maagel Tov, p. 120; for the 16th and 17th sources, including R. Emden, see Azreil Shohet, Im Halufei Tekufot (Jerusalem, 1960), 166-73. For more on the Havah Bernstein incident, see David Katz, “A Case Study in the Formation of a Super-Rabbi: The Early Years of Rabbi Ezekiel Landau, 1713-1754,” (PhD dissertation, University of Maryland, 2004), 228-51; and Matthias Lehmann, “Levantinos and Other Jews: Reading H. Y. D. Azulai’s Travel Diary,” Jewish Social Studies 13:3 (Spring/Summer 2007): 1-34.

Rahel Berkovits has written a work about the recitation of kaddish by daughters and women generally. The main texts appear in Hebrew alongside an English translation. The publication was issued by JOFA.

The topic itself is of notable interest, and Berkovits attempts to deal with the issues at hand. Her main purpose is to show that the recitation of kaddish by women is permissible, and that this is the opinion of the American rabbis (“Rabbanei Artzot Ha-Brit”).

However, essential problems may be detected with the analysis presented in this work. Even if there is a basis for the opinions permitting women to recite kaddish, the author does not provide an objective discussion of the sources. She shows a clear preference towards those sources which permit women to recite kaddish, and belittles the opposing sources. Berkovits mainly presents those opinions which permit women to recite kaddish, and writes that these opinions are the majority opinion (p. 85). However, this assertion is incorrect. There is a large pool of sources on the topic, to which the author preferred not to relate.

The first and classic responsum on the topic was written by R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach in Havvot Yair. The author based herself on the text in the Bar Ilan responsa project, which contains several corruptions, and didn’t corroborate the text with the book itself. There is an overt mistake concerning her discussion of “Sefer Ha-Hayyim”, and other mistakes are prevalent within the publication. Berkowits failed to list among the early sources two important texts. This work by Berkovits was not worthy of publication in its present state, not even for the use of women. Women also have the right to publish Divrei Torah, but Divrei Torah that are devoid of any error.

Aaron the Jewish Bishop

The exodus from Egypt was led by Moses and Aaron. Moses, however, does not appear in the Passover haggadah (with one exception that is likely a later interpolation).[1] Aaron does make two appearances in the hallel section.  That said, in numerous illuminated haggadahs, from the medieval period to present, both appear in illustrated form. Additionally, in printed haggadot, most notably the 1609 Venice haggadah, one of the seminal illustrated haggadot, Moses and Aaron appear on the decorative border.

 

Moses and Aaron became the most common biblical figures on frontispieces, but not the exclusive ones.  In some instance, a mélange of biblical figures is presented.  The Amsterdam printer, Solomon Proops, included the image of Moses, Aaron, David, and Solomon, each wearing a crown, and a Moses carrying not the tablets but instead the Torah scroll.

Returning to the use of Moses and Aaron on frontispieces of Hebrew books, as mentioned above, the basic form of the illustrations remained fairly static with Moses appearing with his staff and/or the tablets or the Torah and Aaron in his priestly clothing.  And, these are prevalent throughout the 17th century, across the Europe and the Middle East.  In Europe the coupling appears in Altona, Amsterdam, Venice, Furth and Izmir, on diverse works – Talmudic commentaries, Mendelssohn’s commentary to the bible, and a commentary on the zemirot (which includes a heliocentric depiction of the constellations).  

A slightly different version appears in the Ma’ashe Rokeakh that has Aaron holding a slaughter knife.

There is, however, one notable exception to this depiction both in terms of the items displayed in addition to the “coupling.”  Aaron ben Hayyim Perachia’s Perekh Matteh Aaron, published in Amsterdam, 1703, includes a coupling but rather than Moses and Aaron, in this instance both images are that of Aaron.  Additionally, the Aaron on the left is the standard depiction of items, but the one on right is distinct in that it has Aaron holding a budding almond branch – perach mateh Aaron.  Of course, these deviations are understandable as the “second” Aaron and his unique “staff” is not merely aesthetic but is illustrative of the title of the book, the first time an title page illustration illustrates the title.[10]

The frontispiece is not the only time that the kohen’s headgear is interpreted contrary to Jewish tradition.  In a recent illustrated edition of Mishna Tamid, the editors depict the Kohen not only wearing the turban but also a yarmulke.  The Torah enumerates the priestly garments and any addition to those items is subject to the death penalty.  Thus, a Kohen wearing a yarmulke – as illustrated and that is not included in the Torah’s description of the Kohen’s outfit – commits a capital crime.[12] Here is another example of Aaron, looking very much like a bishop. This illustration is from a 15th century manuscript called המשכן וכליו by Simon ben Joel.

[1] David Henshke, “The Lord Brought Us Forth from Egypt: On the Absence of Moses in the Passover Haggadah,” AJS Review, Vol. 31, No. 1 (Apr., 2007), pp. 61-73.

[2] The lack of information has not stopped the theorizing as to Moses’ visage.  The most notable example is R. Yisrael Lipschutz’s comments at the end of Kiddushin.  See Shnayer Z. Leiman, “R. Israel Lipschutz and the Portrait of Moses Controversy,” in Isadore Twersky, ed., Danzig, Between East and West: Aspects of Modern Jewish History (Cambridge, Mass., 1985), pp. 51-63, and for a different version, “R. Israel Lipschutz: The Portrait of Moses,” Tradition 24:4 (Summer 1989): pp. 91-98 (available here). See also the important chapter on this subject in R’ Shmuel Ashkenazi, Alpha Beita Kadmeysuh, Jerusalem:2000, pp. 337-371. For additional sources on this story see R’ Dov Turish in his various works; Maznei Tzedek, p.149, 310; Ginzei Ha-Melech, p. 38, 40, 43,48, 56; MiArat haMchpeilah, p. 101 and onwards.

[3] Shmuel Glick, Kuntress ha-Teshuvot he-Hadash, Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, Jerusalem & Ramat Gan, 2007, n. 2120.  For more on Glick’s work see here and  here.

[4] Richard I. Cohen, Jewish Icons, Art & Society in Modern Europe, University of California Press, Berkley & Los Angles, 1998, 127.

[5] Marvin J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book, An Abridged Thesaurus, Vol. I, Brill Leiden & Boston, 2004, 242-43.

[6] That is not to say the first to contain, rather than appear on the title page illustration, figures of living persons.  The Prague 1526 haggadah depicts, Adam, Eve, David, Goliath, Judith, and Samson in the woodcuts accompanying internal pages.  For a list of Hebrew books containing Moses with horns and without see Two Prague Haggadahs, Valmadonna Trust Library, 1978, 16-18 n.16

[7] An examination of the haskamot (approbations) accompanying the early Hanau prints also provides evidence of “the breakdown of central rabbinical authority in Germany during this period.”  Stephan G. Burnett, “Hebrew Censorship in Hanau: A mirror of Jewish-Christian coexistence in Seventeenth-century Germany,” in Raymond B. Waddington and Arthur H. Williamson, eds., The Expulsion of the Jews: 1492 and After, Garland Studies in the Renaissance, Vol. 2. New York & London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1994, pp. 202-03 (available here).

[8] Marvin J. Heller, Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book, Brill NV, Leiden, 2008, 1-17.

[9] See Daniel Sperber, Magic & Jewish Folklore in Rabbinic Literature, Bar Ilan University Press, Ramat-Gan, 1994, 97-98 and n. 29; Yosef Shaposhnik, Siddur im Revid ha-Zahav, Chief Rabbi of the Rabbinical Association, London, 1929, 63.

[10] By way of comparison, a few years after the Perach Matteh Aaron, the frontispiece of the haggadah with the commentary Mateh Aaron, Frankfort A.M., 1710 does not include any depiction of Aaron or his staff. Instead it reuses a non-Jewish woodcut that depicts the Eye of Providence – an allusion to the all seeing eye of “god” –  the trinity as it is depicted within a triangle or three sided object, as it does on the back of the US dollar bill.  But, notably, the eye appearing on the Mateh Aaron is not within a triangle.  Perhaps this was deliberately changed or the original woodcut for some other reason elected not to use the triangle, but to arrive at any definitive conclusion requires additional research into the history of the particular woodcut which is outside the scope of this article.

[11] Ruth Mellinkoff, The Horned Moses in Medieval Art & Thought, University of California Press, Berkley, 1970, 105,94-96.

[12] Dan Rabinowitz, “Yarmulke: A Historic Cover-up?,” Ḥakirah: The Flatbush Journal of Jewish Law and Thought, 4 (2007): 231-32.

[13] E.L Sukenik, The Synagogue of Dura-Europos and its Frescoes, Bialik Foundation, (Jerusalem, Palestine):1947, 97.

A particularly illustrative example was the republication of the work on the laws of Shabbat, Madanei Asher. A kollel had a group of people working on to study the book and then republish it. Although they studied the book in depth they failed to look up the bibliographical information on the book. Had they done so, they would have discovered that the book is plagiarised from another book, Shulhan Shitim by R. Shlomo Chelm, the author of the Merkevet HaMishnah. Instead, they invested considerable time and effort in ensuring that the wider public has access to a plagiarized work.[2]

Another such example of an egregious error due to lack of bibliographical information can be found in the Machon Yerushalayim edition of the Shulhan Arukh. Included in this edition is the commentary of R. Menachem Mendel Auerbach, Ateret Zekeinim. In Orah Hayyim, no. 54, R. Auerbach discusses whether the word “Hai” – het, yud – should be punctuated with a patach or a tzeri.[3].R. Auerbach states “one should have a tzeri under the letter het . . . and this in accord with what R. Shabbatai writes in his siddur, however, the Maharal of Prague says to use a patach.” Now, when R. Auerbach references R. Shabbatai and his siddur, the Machon Yerushalayim edition includes an explanatory note “Siddur haArizal in the Barukh She’amar prayer.” Thus, according to Machon Yerushalayim, R. Auerbach is quoting the Siddur haArizal compiled by R. Shabbatai Rashkover. That, in and of itself, is a bit odd as this Siddur is more interested – as the title implies – in the Ari and his kabbalistic ideas, rather than on grammar. Therefore, to use it in a discussion of grammar, which the quote in question is dealing with, is a bit odd! Setting that aside, there is a more fundamental mistake here, as the Siddur compiled by R. Rashkover was only published for the first time in Koretz in 1795. R. Auerbach lived from 1620-1689. Thus, he was dead for over 100 years prior to the publication of the Siddur of R. Rashkover. Moreover, the Ateres Zekeinim was first published in 1702 in Amsterdam, also long before the Siddur in question was ever published. The Rashkover’s Siddur was only first written in 1755 and not published until 1797.[4] What is particularly striking about this example is that if one actually examines Rashkover’s siddur, he doesn’t even have a tzeri in the word in question!

Instead, the siddur in question from “R. Shabbatai” is that of R. Shabbatai Sofer, the well-known grammarian. As this R. Shabbatai is a grammarian, and his siddur was written specifically to correct and highlight the proper grammatical readings, – see the lengthy introduction to this siddur, where R. Shabbatai bemoans the carelessness of people towards proper grammar – it makes perfect sense to quote this siddur from this “R. Shabbatai.” This is not the only place R. Auerbach quotes R. Shabbatai, one quote in particular is important as it dispels who the “R. Shabbatai” Auerbach is referring to. In Orah Hayyim, no. 122, Auerbach gives R. Shabbatai’s full name in another discussion about proper grammar. Auerbach refers to “I also saw this in the Siddur of R. Shabbatai of Przemysl.” R. Shabbati of Przemysl is otherwise known as R. Shabbatai Sofer (1565-1635)[5] and that is who is referred to earlier as well.

In conclusion, it is worthwhile noting that the text in question – the correct pronunciation of the word het yud – how R. Sofer actually pronounced that is unclear. There are two versions, but for the details of that one should see the edition of R. Sofer’s Siddur (Baltimore, 1994), vol. 2, p. 56.

Notes:
[1] First printed in Amsterdam in 1680 and in an expanded edition in 1806.

[2] This was pointed on by Y. Tosher in Moriah 7:83-84 (1978): 79. This claim of plagiarism was examined by Yonah Burstein, “Shulhan ‘Arukh by R. Shlomo Chelm (Review),” Ali Sefer 16 (1990):177-179.

[3] See the work Yashresh Ya’akov where he has a very comprehensive discussion about the this word and its punctuation.

[4] See Pinchas Giller, “Between Poland and Jerusalem: Kabbalistic Prayer in Early Modernity,” in Modern Judaism 24:3 (2004): 230, and see Geller’s general discussion regarding the importance of Rashkover’s edition for the development of Lurianic kabbalah on the siddur.

[5] On R. Sofer see Stefan C. Reif, Shabbethai Sofer and His Prayer-Book (Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University Press, 1979).

Although, taken for granted today, there is a rather interesting discussion regarding putting ones name on one’s sefer. The early Jewish books we have- Tanak, Mishna and Talmud, the authors or compliers did use their names. It appears that this practice started in the times of the patanim. R. Yehuda haHasid says

In the early days, the patanyim – the ones that appear in Tanakh – did not use acrostics. Further, early blessings that were fashioned by the Great Assembly do not either have such attributions. However, when wicked people began creating songs of nothing . . .and people could not discern what the righteous people had written and what these wicked people wrote, the righteous people began putting their names in the acrostic . . . and with this the wicked could no longer take credit for poems that were not theirs.

Sefer Hasidim (ed. Wistinetzki), Frankfort 1924, no. 470, p. 133.

Thus, the practice of taking credit for one’s written came in order to allow the reader to know the provenance of the work. Others claim the use of the acrostic was just borrowed from non-Jewish sources. Be it as it may, these claims only date the usage of the writing the authors name to the time after the Talmud.

Some, however, go to some length to show that even in the books of Tanakh and the Mishna the authors or compliers did, at the very least, hint to their name. The Midrash Tanchuma explains why the letter Hey in the verse in Hazenu (Devarim 32:6) H-l’shem tigmilu zot (ה-לה’)is separate from the name of God. The Midrash explains that this unusual separation is to “tell the reader to take the first letters of the verses up until this verse. The Hey (ה) from האזינו, the Yud (י) from יערף, the Kuf (כ) from כי שם, the Hey (ה) from הצור, the Shin (ש) from שחת לו, and finally the Hey (ה) from ה-לה’. Those letters numerical value equal the name of Moshe as this is Moshe signing his name just as a person who finishes his book signs his name to it.” (Tanchum Hazenu 5). Though some note that this quote may have actually been inserted later, it does demonstrate that at a fairly early time people felt it was important to claim authorship to their own work.

At times, however, there were some even long after the Talmud who wrote works in an anonymous fashion. One book provoked a discussion that sheds some light on the above discussion. R. Shmuel Aboab (1610-1694), wrote the ethical work Sefer HaZikronot, first published in 1631 in Prague, recently reprinted in 2001. However, the book was published anonymously. R. Hayyim Yosef David Azulai (Hida) in his bibliographical work, Shem HaGedolim, has an extensive discussion on the entry for the Sefer HaZikronot whether one should or should not note that one is acatully the author of a book. Hida quotes another passage in the Sefer Hasdim that offers an explanation why some do not note they are the author. “The early ones did not write their names on their works for example who wrote Torat Kohanim, Mehilta etc. so that they would not derive benefit from this world and lose any reward they will have in the world to come.” Sefer Hasidim, ed. R. R. Margolis no. 367. However, Hida notes that although for the “early ones” such as the those before the time of the Geonim, they did not reveal their authorship, from the times of the Geonim this has become common practice and thus in today there is no longer a reason to hide who the author is. Hida explains that the nature of R. Aboab’s book was the reason he did not reveal his authorship. The Sefer HaZikronot is a book of exhortations, a mussar book, as R. Aboab did not want to appear as more righteous in giving ethical direction he decided to remain anonymous.

Interestingly, the Hida nor anyone else, ever mention any prohibition in revealing the name of an anonymous work.

Sources: Yakov Shmuel Speigel, Amudim b’Toldot HaSefer HaIvri – Kitiva V’Hatakato, Ramat-Gan 2005, pp. 307-317; R. Hayyim Yosef David Azuali, Shem HaGedolim, Jerusalem 1997, vol. 2 Sefarim, 46-49.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: for further on the pronunciation of the word ה-לה’ see David Yishaki, in R. Jacob Emden, Luah Eres, 2000, appendix.