The Pesach Drasha of the Rokeach

The Pesach Drasha of the Rokeach
by Eliezer Brodt
By way of introduction, in the Shulchan Aruch it is written that thirty days before Pesach one should learn the halachos of Pesach. As Pesach is fast approaching, it is appropriate to discuss anew a post from five years ago, of which this is an update.
Every once in a while we are privileged to have the venerable printing house Mekizei Nirdamim release something special from the great rishonim (aside from their great journal Kovetz Al Yad).[1] Five years ago they published a critical edition of a Pesach Drasha of R. Eliezer Rokeach of Worms for the first time, edited by Professor Simcha Emanuel. In this post I would like to discuss some of the many things of interest in the work and also comment in general on the great job of Simcha Emanuel did with this work.
One of the reasons why I am updating this post is I was just told by Mekezei Nirdamim that they only have a few remaining copies and it will not be reprinted. I am selling copies for $16, while supplies last. For more information feel free to contact me at eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.
Part of the proceeds of this sale will be going to help support the efforts of the Seforim Blog.
This drasha seems to have been an actual drasha that the Rokeach delivered, although it is pretty obvious from the length that it was not said at one time but probably a compilation of a few derashos recited at different times. The style is mostly halacha, with a bit of aggadah in the beginning and also scattered throughout. He goes through many halachos of Pesach starting with kashering the utensils, getting rid of the chametz, and baking the matzos. He then continues on at great length to discuss all the aspects of the Seder. Then he deals with what to do if one finds chametz on Pesach and he ends with some halachos of Yom Tov in general.
I would like to mention some of the interesting points found in the actual drasha. First, the Rokeach records that his family custom was when they burned the chametz they would do so with the lulavim and hoshanos which they had saved from Sukkos (p.79). [2] While talking about the minhag to bake matzos Erev Yom Tov he writes that one should not bake the matzos for the second night until the second night itself, because of chavivah mitzvah bi’shaatah (p. 92). [3] He states that one should go to the Mikvah before Yom Tov. [4]
The Rokeach writes that if the Yom Tov falls out on Shabbos we do not smell hadassim for besamim on Motzei Shabbos, because there is no loss of the extra soul, as the soul remains for the duration of Yom Tov. (p. 93).[4a] In a note Professor Emanuel points out that others disagree with this point and hold that one does in fact make a blessing on the besamim when Saturday night is still Yom Tov. While talking about the washing for karpas he writes that one should make ‘al nitelas yadaim (p. 96), whereas today we do not. [5] He then goes on to say that we eat a full kezayis for karpas, which is something we also do not do – we purposely eat less than a kezayis. [6] (p. 97, 152). He notes his family minhag was to hold the cup of wine during the recitation of vehi she’amdah (p. 99 and p. 126) [7], the common custom today.
He describes how his family poured out the wine when they said the ten Makkot (p. 101, see also, p. 127). The importance of this last custom is that until the publication of this drasha, although many have recorded this custom in the name of the Rokeach, it appeared in none of his writings (as I plan on discussing at length in a forthcoming article). In regard to washing mayim acharonim at the seder, although others argue he writes one should wash (p. 106). [8]
In addition to all this Professor Emanuel has included extensive notes and comments throughout the drasha, which are excellent. These provide additional sources for various things mentioned in the drasha, also including interesting sources from unpublished manuscripts.
To list some of the topics that he deals with in the notes: Making matzos with pictures on them (pp. 129-134), about the nussach of the Haggdaah that some said רבון עלומים וכו after ביד חזקה (pp. 53- 57) [9], and reasons for the prohibition of kitniyos (p. 51).[10]
One very interesting thing which Emanuel points out is the difference about how a name is spelled in various manuscripts. Specifically, whether the Rokeach’s father-in-law was Eliezer or Elazar. If it was Elazar than it turns out that the Rokeach, whose first name was also Elazar, apparently ignored the will of his teacher, Rebbi Yehuda ha-Hassid – who disallows such marriages in his famous Tzavaah. Although, most likely, the Rokeach was married even prior to coming in contact with Rebbi Yehuda ha-Hassid, his practice demonstrates that people, prior to Rebbi Yehuda ha-Hassid’s pronouncement did not observe or even know of this custom. (pp. 57- 59). Emanuel than brings early evidence that part of the Tzavaah were strictly for the family.[11]
In this work we find an early source not related to Pesach but to Shavous – such as to eat Milchigs (p. 39, 110). [12]
Aside from this small work (152 pp.) containing this very important drasha of the Rokeach it also includes many important pieces of information in regard to the Rokeach in general and especially to two works of his that were unknown. There is a lengthy discussion about a sefer of the Rokeach on shechitah and treifos as well as another sefer – Sefer Ma’aseh Rokeach.
[1] For more information on this special, 150-year old publishing house, see the pamphlet printed by them in 1964, called Chevrat Mekizei Nirdamim.
[2] For further on this custom see Sefer HaMaskil pp. 33-34; the important comment of R. Honig in Yerushaseinu 1 (2007), pp. 208-209; Sefer Kushiyos pp. 168-169 and the notes therein; D. Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, vol. 2 p. 193. See also what I wrote in Yerushaseinu 2 (2008), p. 219.
[3] For general sources on baking Matzos on Erev Pesach see Rabbi. G. Oberlander, Minhag Avoseinu Beyadeinu, pp. 327-255.
[4] For a very detailed discussion of this topic see my Bein Kesseh Le-assur, pp.48-96.
[4a] See; Shmuel and Zev Safrai, Haggadas Chazal, pp.54-55.
[5] See; Haggadah Shevivei Eish, p. 152; Y. Tabory, Pesach Dorot, pp. 216- 244. See also what I wrote in my Bein Kesseh Le-assur, p. 152.
[6] See; Y. Tabory, Pesach Dorot, pp. 264-265.
[7] See; Haggadah Shevivei Eish p. 109.
[8] See; Tabory, ibid, p. 244-249.
[9] See; Pirush Meyuchas le-Rashi in the Torat Hayyim Haggadah, p. 110; Shmuel and Zev Safrai, Haggadas Chazal, pp. 84-85; Simcha Emanuel, “‘When God Descended to Egypt’: The Story of a Passage in the Passover Haggadah,” Tarbiz 77:1 (2008): 109-132 (Hebrew).
[10] See; Y. Ta-Shma, “Prohibition of Kitniyot on Pesach,” Early Franco-German Ritual and Custom (Jerusalem: Hebrew University Magnes Press, 1992), pp.271-282 (Hebrew); Rabbi. G. Oberlander, Minhag Avoseinu Beyadeinu, pp. 410-438.
[11] On all this see also my Likutei Eliezer, pp. 51-53.
[12] See; Rabbi. G. Oberlander, Minhag Avoseinu Beyadeinu, pp.623-647. I hope to return to this topic shortly.


“Rabbi David Hoffmann, ZL” by Eliezer M. Lipschuetz – A Translation

Rabbi David Hoffmann, ZL
By Eliezer M. Lipschuetz
Introduction, Translation, and Notes by David S. Zinberg
David S. Zinberg blogs at Realia Judaica.

Introduction

Rabbi Dr. David Zvi Hoffmann was a unique figure in the history of both German Jewish Orthodoxy and academic Jewish Studies.[1] He was widely regarded by contemporaries as an unequaled master of Halakha and Wissenschaft, and as a major leader in both communities. The biographical essay below by Eliezer Meir Lipschuetz, translated from Hebrew, was attached to the Hebrew translation (by Eliezer Barishansky) of Re’ayot Makhri’ot Neged Velhoizen, Hoffmann’s critique of the Documentary Hypothesis (Jerusalem, 1928 and available on HebrewBooks.org). Hoffmann’s original version, Die Wichtigsten Instanzen gegen die Graf-Wellhausensche Hypothese, was published in Berlin in 1904 (available on archive.org). Carla Sulzbach’s English translation, an MA thesis titled David Zvi Hoffmann’s . . . main arguments against the Graf-Wellhausen hypothesis, can be downloaded here.

Lipschuetz’s brief but rich portrait is notable for its first-hand account of Hoffmann, as a scholar, teacher, writer, and as a pious Jew. While clearly enamored of his subject, Lipschuetz expresses some gentle criticism of Hoffmann. He laments the fact that Hoffmann wrote in German rather than Hebrew, and harshly criticizes the general neglect of Hebrew by both Wissenschaft and German Orthodox writers. Lipschuetz also faults Hoffman for not proposing an alternative theory to the Documentary Hypothesis to reconcile inconsistencies in the Torah, even if Hoffmann successfully – in Lipschuetz’s estimation – negated the theory by demolishing its assumptions. Following the latter critique, Lipschuetz offers a somewhat tentative defense of Hoffmann.
For a brief biography of Lipschuetz, see the entry here in David Tidhar’s Entziklopedia Le-Halutze Ha-Yishuv U-Vonav.

The translation is non-literal, but I have tried to preserve the tone and style of the original. Where Lipschuetz’s Hebrew terminology adds value to the translation, I include it in square brackets. Common dates have been added alongside, or substituted for, Hebrew dates. In the notes, I include links to online versions of works cited.
__________

The story of his life – the properly developed life of a Torah scholar – was not eventful. His birthplace, Jewish Hungary, was unique; she experienced a late spiritual awakening, and for generations lacked any great Torah scholar or spiritual leader. But from the very moment her Torah began to shine, she was granted a short-lived daybreak full of light and vitality. She influenced much of the Diaspora, in many fields of study, both within and beyond the Jewish domain. He was born in the community of Verbó (Nitra province) in Hungary,[2] on 1 Kislev 5604 (November 24, 1843). His father was a local religious arbitrator [dayan]. He received the standard cheder education, though it included personal attention and supervision. From the time of Rabbi Moses Sofer, Hungary was blessed with yeshivot whose curricula differed from those of Lithuanian yeshivot. Even as a young man, he earned a reputation as a Talmudic prodigy [ilui]. He studied at the yeshivot of Verbó and Pupa[3] and later at the yeshiva of that generation’s most prominent rabbi [gadol ha-dor], Rabbi Moses Schick, in Sankta Georgen[4] near Pressburg,[5] where he was his teacher’s absolute favorite.

Around this time, a notable event took place in Hungary: Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer, a German Torah scholar who served as rabbi of Eisenstadt, founded a yeshiva for both Torah and secular studies during a period of extremist agitation. The two opposing camps had separated angrily, and the Jewish community was split in two. At this inopportune time, the life of this yeshiva was cut short, as was the residence of its founder in Eisenstadt, due to the shrill protests of the ultra-conservative camp. It was feared that an extremist war would be waged against Rabbi Hildesheimer or, even worse, that he would mount a counter-offensive against the Torah leadership. Purity and Torah were in danger of becoming apostasy; alas, such is the power of communal dissension. He escaped the place of expected misfortune and returned to his native Germany where he became a rabbi and innovative leader of the Orthodox community.

Rabbi Hoffmann was Rabbi Hildesheimer’s student at his yeshiva in Eisenstadt and when his teacher departed, he did as well, arriving at the Pressburg Yeshiva, the central yeshiva in Hungary. Later, he studied at the University of Vienna and from there moved to Germany where he taught at the preparatory school of the Jewish Teachers Institute at Höchberg, near Würzburg. There, he was a colleague of Rabbi Seligman Baer Bamberger, another German Orthodox rabbi, whose goal was to safeguard the light of Torah within daily life. Rabbi Bamberger was a old-school scholar; he was mild mannered in ideological controversies and viewed the Jewish community as single entity which should not easily be split.

In 1875 [sic], Rabbi Hoffmann composed a dissertation, A Biography of Mar Shmuel,[6] and received a doctorate from the University of Tübingen.[7] He then married a woman from a prominent family, who survived him, and was invited by Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch to teach at the high school he had founded. This was the first modern school for Orthodox students. Rabbi Hirsch fought the battle for Torah with the weapons of modern Enlightenment. He strove to consciously combine Enlightenment and Jewish ideology, but he viewed himself as a wartime general, and was inclined to separate and confine the Orthodox community. Rabbi Hoffmann served for a number of years as a teacher in Rabbi Hirsch’s school, and was close to him. After only a short time, Rabbi Hoffmann became closely connected with three of the spiritual leaders of the new Orthodox movement in Germany. At that time, Orthodox Judaism was aroused to defend itself, to establish relations with the new culture, and to create a Torah lifestyle within a foreign society. These three great leaders, though they had different personalities and goals, stood at the vanguard of the movement, to organize and dig in the troops. Rabbi Seligman Baer Bamberger continued to support earlier developments, disapproved of separatism, and strove to preserve an ideal of perfection untarnished by current fads. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch understood the full extent of the battle; he felt obligated to pursue total, uncompromising Enlightenment, and a Judaism that included full intellectual awareness. He established an ideological basis for Judaism, founded on intellect, and created a rationalist system based on principles of faith. He considered his age one of creating boundaries and he preferred separatism. Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer believed that his mission was to advance the scientific understanding of Judaism and to preserve its image in the eyes of science. He desired that Torah should never be forgotten in Israel, and although he too believed at the time in the need for separation, he maintained his sense of responsibility towards the wider community. The leadership of German Orthodoxy succeeded, then and forever, to create the type of Jew who combines within himself involvement in daily life [derekh eretz] and the fear of God, and to create a modern Orthodox lifestyle, including an Orthodox literature and science, though not on a large scale. These were transitional years, and immersion in transitional conflicts did not cause Rabbi Hoffmann mental anguish or psychological trauma; “he came and he left in peace.”[8] He was close with all three leaders at a formative period of his life; he was influenced by all three, but his approach was primarily that of his original teacher, Rabbi Esriel Hildesheimer. Together, they set themselves a goal, and worked towards it jointly throughout their entire lives.

When Rabbi Hildesheimer founded the Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin, as a center of Torah and Science in our time, he called on his student to teach Talmud. Rabbi Hoffmann taught Talmud and halakhic works [posekim] at that institution for forty-eight years. After the founder’s passing, he was appointed Rector of the Rabbinical Seminary (1899). The government and the University granted him the title of Professor (1918) and through old age he never left the Beit Midrash; he taught Talmud and posekim to the students and held a class on Talmud for lay members of the community.

Those who knew him while he was still alive know that his personality was as great as his Torah. One would have to return to the medieval period to witness such a persona among the German or French Hasidim. He was a man with no sense of his own greatness. He exuded humility and everything about him was simplicity. His words, in writing and in speech, were always to the point; he never spoke extravagantly, or used ornate speech, or showed off his knowledge. Truth was the expression of his personality. A measure of spirituality, piety, and modesty resided within his diminutive, silent frame, which was crowned by a brilliant mind. This is exactly how he appeared to me just weeks before his passing. He had attained a sort of calm, an equanimity, contentment, and clarity, which bestowed on him a peaceful beauty. He was always willing to serve even the most minor student; he was never indignant and no one could insult him. This man, who was as diligent in religious observance as one of the ancient righteous [tzadikim ha-rishonim], was shy by nature and humble before God and man. His integrity guided his relationships, without making him bitter or prickly. He had a sense of humor, was pleasant with everyone he met, and could even poke fun occasionally without ever hurting a soul. While his teacher Rabbi Hildesheimer was an activist, he was a “dweller in tents,” inclined to quiet research and study.

As much as he rarely left the “four cubits of Halakha,” he was not removed from daily life. He was well versed in the ways of the world and sensitive to life’s problems. There was no human or Jewish issue with which he was unfamiliar. Although not a political person, he participated in the movements of our people, joined in Orthodox undertakings, and had an appreciation for activism and political movements. In spirit, he was close to Mizrahi, but was an executive member of Agudath Israel, a member of the Aguda’s Council of Torah Sages, and a president of the Orthodox rabbinic association.[9] (The latter group was ideologically close to the Berlin Rabbinical Seminary and was not radically secessionist. There is another rabbinical association based in Frankfurt[10] which is completely secessionist, and yet another general union[11] for rabbis of all camps). He valued equally the undertakings of all those loyal to Torah, and did not exclude even those Jews who rejected separatism. In general, it was not his nature to stand apart, create divisions, or engage in weeding out opponents. He was a true pursuer of peace [rodef shalom]; he endeavored to abstain from conflict and was not combative in matters of Torah. He debated, but would not attack or behave triumphantly. The very essence of his being was peace [hotamo hayya ha-shalom].

His German style is clear and simple, without excessive use of flowery expressions. It is the fine language of a scientist, suitable for scientific material; there is gentleness in such simplicity. His Hebrew style is rabbinic, and it too is not weighed down by flowery expression (though occasionally it does show the influence of Haskalah writing). But his Hebrew style is plodding, apparently unable to express modern ideas. Hebrew’s major effort in recent times has been the adaptation of the language to modern concepts, the expansion of word usages, and the substitution of archaic usages with modern ones. He never acquired this level of Hebrew (though we should not think that he opposed the recent effort towards linguistic adaptation). He did not write much in Hebrew. For the most part, he wrote in Hebrew only when he composed halakhic responsa, notes, and a handful of commentaries. For the sake of being recognized by Gentile scholars, Wissenschaft Des Judentums sacrificed Hebrew on the altar of foreign language. German Orthodoxy committed a comparable sin by abandoning Hebrew in order to level the playing field between Orthodox Judaism and Liberal Judaism. It is a pity that Rabbi Hoffmann’s works were written in a foreign tongue, and were thus destined to have limited influence or value.[12] In any language, his ideas are properly organized and clearly stated, the ordering and contents are lucid and plain, and there is no strain or drag in his writing. His method is to offer a theory, accompanied by evidence, in a convincing and logical manner.

Rabbi Hoffmann had an extensive, multi-faceted grasp of European learning. He knew classical languages thoroughly, studied Semitic languages, and mastered several European languages. His knowledge spanned the entire range of Enlightenment learning and science.

He was also a great Torah scholar [gadol ba-Torah], without equal in Germany. We tend to measure a gadol by both erudition and intellect. Rabbi Hoffmann was great in both senses, in the sense of the term as used by elite Torah scholars [lamdanim]. His erudition covered all areas of Torah learning. Unlike those modern scholars who consider the Talmud a subject for antiquarian study, he studied the early and late Talmud commentaries. Talmud was not only fit for historical research; it was a living subject that had never died, whose past could only be explained by its continuity through the ages. He would clarify and simplify, and remove later embellishments. During the course of his teaching and his analysis, complexities became clear. He disliked artificial Talmudic sophistry [pilpul shel hidud],[13] but valued Talmudic analysis based on true notions [pilpul shel emet], which he practiced his entire life. He taught Torah publicly throughout his life; his teaching style was plain and clear. He would explain the topic under discussion in the simplest manner, and those who understood him realized that there was a thesis underlying this simplicity that could resolve halakhic disputes, determine the correct interpretation, and might even refute the opinion of an early or late Talmudic authority. Most scholars who teach Talmud disregard fundamental, introductory principles, relying on previously acquired knowledge; Rabbi Hoffmann did not. He would explain fundamental ideas that could be easily understood. These included synthetic words, popular expressions, halakhic issues, archeology, Talmudic methodology, the structure of Talmudic passages, and their textual context. He would explain all of these matters logically and lucidly.

His responsa[14] were published posthumously; others edited them for publication. He never intended to publicize them[15] and most were products of their time [le-tzorekh sha’a]. For decades, critical issues and complex questions from every corner of Germany were sent to him, by laymen as well as rabbis, who considered themselves his disciples and relied completely on his wisdom. Sometimes, a village rabbi would be confounded by a halakhic question and would travel that day to Berlin to consult with his teacher, or else send a telegram, or write a letter with his halakhic query. He was like the Great Sanhedrin for all German Jewry. Most questions were on contemporary matters that remain of practical interest. Essentially, these were questions on the Jew’s relationship to daily phenomena and technology: Issues related to manufacturing and commerce; social and communal matters; prayer and synagogue practices; questions on electricity and the telephone pertaining to Sabbath law; attending non-Jewish schools on the Sabbath; business arrangements with non-Jewish partners with regard to the Sabbath; laws pertaining to medication on Passover; the question of an Orthodox rabbi presiding over a Liberal congregation; the law on taking an oath bare-headed; shaving for medical reasons; Torah education for girls (he permitted it); women’s suffrage. In his responsa, he determined the halakha in a straightforward manner, by reference to the early and late authorities; he categorized their positions, and arrived at a halakhic decision. There were times when he utilized modern science or critical methods to clarify Talmudic issues. He may cite the writings of natural scientists, quote the opinion of medical experts, refer to scientific works, and then reply with his halakhic ruling. He only rarely engaged in the lengthy give-and-take of halakhic argumentation. For the most part, he simply cited his sources and outlined his halakhic ruling. He did not hesitate to reference halakhic abridgements, which most great Torah scholars normally ignore. In this transitional period, circumstances required setting patterns of daily life and social norms for Judaism within the modern world which, willy nilly, impacted the Jew. An important creation of German Orthodoxy was this model of modern life within which the Orthodox Jew could live without conflict. Rabbi Hoffmann was involved in all of these questions. He helped establish Halakha’s attitude to modern life and set parameters for permitted and prohibited behavior. Some of the questions he was asked by laymen display a real integrity that bring honor to the questioner.

The secular courts regularly consulted with him to clarify points of Jewish Law. He was often called as an expert witness in court at infamous trials, i.e., trials of anti-Semites. These events affected him deeply. When the survival of the German Empire hung in the balance,[16] I heard him say that this was divine punishment, measure for measure, for the monarchy’s lack of intervention in the trial of Fritsch,[17] who blasphemed against Heaven. As he said this, his voice shook with emotion. As a result of such trials, he composed his work on the Shulhan Arukh (first edition, 1885; second edition, 1895),[18] in which he outlined the role of posekim in our tradition – even though Rabbi Joseph Karo [ha-Mehaber] is the normative posek – and he clarified many details of the laws pertaining to Gentiles. Based on first editions of printed works, he explained the halakhic distinctions between Christians and other Gentiles. This work contains much detailed knowledge and explanations derived from his deep understanding.

The Wissenschaft establishment considered him one of its architects. Wissenschaft is primarily concerned with reconstituting the past from literary remnants, employing an historical-philological method, and embracing all aspects of Judaism. It is conservative by nature. Its originators held traditional beliefs but, over time, it became fundamentally antagonistic to Orthodox Judaism. The Orthodox were distressed over the inability of this heritage to strengthen tradition. The goal of Rabbi Hoffman and his teacher Rabbi Hildesheimer was to fortify the borders of Wissenschaft so that it could not harm tradition, and so that traditional ideology would not be harmed by Wissenschaft scholarship. They were determined to analyze the sources using the scientific method, and were confident that the Torah could not be damaged by true science. He demanded extreme caution, both from himself and from others. Whenever he discovered a conflict between scholarship and Torah he suspected that the conflict stemmed from a lack of precision, from flawed science or from superficial disregard of the sources. He was not narrowly constrained within his field; all of Jewish scholarship and all fields of Torah study were within his purview. Aside from the books he wrote, he published numerous articles. He stood constant guard, responding to every scientific discovery in his fields from the standpoint of both scientific criticism and traditional ideology. The truth of tradition was part of his consciousness. There was no boundary between his Talmudic analyses and his scientific research. He did not employ two methodologies, even if he was a master of two methodologies. He might clarify a halakha using textual variants or historical considerations, and he would employ all the tools of a Torah scholar to confirm details of critical study. For the benefit of critical scholarship, he made available a vast quantity of Talmudic and rabbinic material previously inaccessible to scholars.

In his book The First Mishna (1882, and translated into Hebrew by Dr. Samuel Greenberg),[19] he cast new light on the history of the Oral Law, and laid a foundation for the new field of Mishna criticism. Previously, most scholars believed that prior to our Holy Teacher, Rabbi Judah the Prince, there were only scattered, disorganized, and disjointed halakhot, until Rabbi Judah compiled them. It was considered groundbreaking when someone tried to show that compilations of halakhot were available in the Beit Midrash in Rabbi Akiva’s day. Had this issue come up earlier, many scholars may have hesitated to address it; but the question with its full implications had not yet arisen. Rabbi Hoffmann came forward and proved – with proofs withstanding critical evaluation – that at the time of the elders of the Shamai and Hillel schools there existed a First Mishna, fully complied and having a fixed text. Major mishnayot and basic halakhot in our Mishna derive from the First Mishna, and the very expression mishna rishona found in the sources is not only meant in contrast to a late Mishna on a particular halakha, but that this was the title of a compilation of halakhot used in the Beit Midrash during this period. He adduced proofs from mishnayot which, he showed, were from the Second Temple period; from common terminology; from the internal arrangement of the halakhot; and, primarily, from Tannaitic disputes. He believed that for the most part, these disputes were based on disagreements about the original wording and interpretation of the First Mishna, and that the relationship of the later Tannaim to the First Mishna was like that of the Amoraim to the Mishna as a whole. From the time the First Mishna was compiled, it was subject to much editing and came out in several revisions, comprising layer upon layer, until it was finalized in Rabbi Judah’s time. He then attempted to determine, by precise criticism, the makeup of the First Mishna, using internal signs as well as statements of Amoraim who were familiar with the Tannaitic world (though he did not employ enough of the latter method).
As examples he used Tractate Avot, in which he identified three revisions, and chapters in Pesahim and Yoma in which he identified multiple layers. He believed that mishnayot containing halakhic midrash were the oldest. He was of the opinion that prior to the compilation of the Mishna, the Soferim and the Tannaim studied the Oral Law in the format of halakhic midrash, accompanying Scripture. Associated with each verse they transmitted any relevant halakha, accepted interpretation, popular custom, and contemporary statute. These were attached to the biblical words and verses. The Soferim and early Tannaim proceeded from one verse to the next, interpreting each word, and associating halakhot with each and every letter. Mishnayot surviving from this early midrash are embedded in our Mishna, a clear sign that they derive from the First Mishna. Rabbi Yitzhak Isaac Halevy[20] succeeded him and followed his method (without mentioning his name[21]), though he disagreed with some of the details of Rabbi Hoffmann’s thesis. Rabbi Halevy dated the compilation of the First Mishna (which he termed the “Foundational Mishna” [yesod ha-mishna]) earlier, to the period of the late Soferim, the last members of the Great Assembly. This theory is reasonable, but must be considered speculative, while Rabbi Hoffmann’s dating is supported by evidence and can withstand serious critical appraisal. Still, one should not dismiss Rabbi Halevy’s opinion as mere reasonable speculation. One may criticize Rabbi Hoffmann for underemphasizing the notion of gradual, anonymous, literary evolution, which could account for the Mishna’s creation from an historical perspective. Rabbi Halevy also disagreed with Rabbi Hoffmann’s view – a view shared by Rabbi Zechariah Frankel – that halakhic midrash preceded the Mishna. Rabbi Halevy took the opposite position, that the apodictic Mishnayot preceded halakhic midrash, and that the latter defined and restricted the apodictic halakhot. I believe that Rabbi Halevy was unsuccessful in shaking the foundations of Rabbi Hoffmann’s thesis. I believe one must distinguish between the midrash of the Soferim – which derives Halakha from Scripture, and for each new question applies exegesis to Scripture as an halakhic source – and the midrash of the Tannaim, which attempts to support and define previously compiled halakhot.[22] In one fell swoop, Rabbi Hoffmann illuminated the entire process of the Mishna’s creation, explicated the Tannaitic period, and laid the foundation for the field of scientific criticism of the Mishna, a field whose future is bright. This discipline does not damage traditional belief. On the contrary, it pushes back the date of the Oral Law’s compilation, and thus bolsters the antiquity of tradition.

There is obvious scientific value to his book An Introduction to Halakhic Midrashim (Berlin, 1887),[23] in which he defined the evolutionary pathways of halakhic midrash. He discovered two trends or styles within halakhic midrash: One of the school of Rabbi Akiva and the other of Rabbi Ishmael. He identified the signs by which one may distinguish between these two schools: Variations in exegetical style; differences in the names of Tannaim cited; differences in linguistic expression and exegetical structure. He demonstrated that there were once two parallel sets of halakhic midrashim on four books of the Pentateuch, written according to each method. His thesis was validated when it helped discover remnants of Tannaitic midrash. He published these in edited and annotated versions:

1. “On a Mekhilta to Deuteronomy,” in Shai la-Moreh (Berlin, 1890)[24]
2. Likutei Batar Likute mi-Mekhilta le-Sefer Devarim (Berlin, 1897)[25]
3. Midrash Tannaim al Sefer Devarim (Berlin, 1908)[26]
4. Mekhilta de-Rabbi Shimon al Sefer Shemot (Frankfurt, 1905)[27]
5. Midrash ha-Gadol al Sefer Shemot, two volumes (Berlin, 1913-1921)[28]

Two of these books[29] were published by the author in complete form; their conclusions are straightforward and they are clear and well-organized. When I discussed these two books with him, he admitted that with respect to his ideas, he was preceded by Rabbi Israel Lewy of Breslau, in the latter’s books The Mishna of Abba Shaul[30] and Mekhilta De-Rabbi Shimon.[31] However, it must be noted that Rabbi Lewy – an unequaled scholar – wrote obliquely, whereas Rabbi Hoffmann constructed fully developed systems. Rabbi Hoffmann also translated and wrote a commentary on Mishna Nezikin and began work on Taharot. [32] He calmly expressed doubt about completing the commentary on Taharot in his lifetime. Although the translation was intended mainly for laypeople, the commentary includes notes and explanations of lasting value, especially on Taharot.

Scattered among his articles and responsa are studies on Talmudic philology and Jewish History. He was among the first to use the Samaritan Aramaic translation of the Bible for linguistic study of the Mishna and Talmud. He made emendations to the Talmud; interpreted obscure passages; attempted to reconcile conflicting chronologies; researched the history of the Sanhedrin; resolved difficulties in the writings of Josephus; utilized Jewish Hellenistic literature to explain Talmudic passages; analyzed etymologies of loanwords from Greek and Latin; tried his hand at comparing Hebrew and Aramaic to other Semitic languages; interpreted difficult chapters in Tractate Midot; elucidated Talmudic archeology; wrote commentaries on liturgy and piyyutim; and, he founded a scholarly journal which he edited for several years (1876-1893), the Magazin für die Wissenschaft des Judentums.[33] He achieved his self-imposed goal: To study Judaism by the scientific-critical method, and to bring respectability to scholarship that is loyal to tradition. His spoke with equanimity and conducted himself with humility. No opponent could act presumptuously toward him, and no one could cast doubt on his commitment to scientific scholarship.

In the end, he crossed over the boundary he had originally set for himself, and engaged in biblical studies. At most rabbinical seminaries in the West, there was no study of the Written Law except for some instruction on medieval commentaries. Wissenschaft scholars did not study Bible out of fear of taking a stand on fundamental principles concerning the Torah. They did not have the courage to challenge the prevailing opinions of Gentile scholars. Chumash was studied at two Berlin seminaries – at Maybaum’s Liberal seminary,[34] and also at the Orthodox seminary founded by Rabbi Hildesheimer – since both academies recognized the challenges posed by modern biblical studies, and each had its own unique approach to Torah study. Teaching Chumash at the seminary led him to study exegesis and to analyze the conclusions of biblical criticism. He then wrote his book against Wellhausen, the most prominent biblical critic, The Principle Arguments Against Wellhausen [Re’ayot Makhr’iot Neged Velhoizen],[35] published in 1904, in which he sanctified God’s name by his critique of criticism. He critically assessed the proofs employed by criticism, and highlighted the flaws in its arguments. In this way he attempted to destroy Wellhausen’s structure, removing each level, brick by brick. He especially fought the Documentary Hypothesis, refuting its assumption of multiple textual layers. He revealed its artificiality and its lack of foundation, as well as its internal inconsistencies, using proofs based on the methods and principles of the critics themselves. He refuted their proofs for the existence of separate biblical source-documents, based on the notion of distinctive terminology, by listing parallels between expressions used in the Prophets and in the Torah, thus negating the belief that the Prophets were unaware of sections of the Torah. He cited ironclad evidence regarding internal connections between the sources, showing how they were indeed parallel according to the critics’ own methodology.

After this fundamental work, he devoted himself to publishing his commentaries on Leviticus[36] and Deuteronomy.[37] Here he battled the destructive criticism on behalf of Scripture, using every available scientific and deductive weapon. At the same time, by citing a vast quantity of Talmudic and rabbinic material, he demonstrated the contribution of the Oral Law to understanding the simple meaning of Scripture. From one chapter to the next, he pursued critical theory, contradicted each of its conclusions, and made sense of the verses.

He also made an effort, in which he was preceded by several Jewish scholars (Rabbis Naftali H. Wesseley, Meir L. Malbim, J. Z. Mecklenberg), to demonstrate the unity of the Written and Oral Laws, both in the long introduction to Leviticus and within the commentary. He investigated the division and ordering of biblical paragraphs [parshiyot], and even addressed matters of philosophy and the rational justification of the commandments [ta’ame ha-mitzvot]. One might consider his commentary the “Orthodox version” of scientific exegesis. Before his time, Orthodox Judaism was resigned not to respond to criticism, choosing silence instead. He blazed a new path which, however, is not suited for the general public. It is a pity that he did not write his commentaries in Hebrew, but we can rejoice at the fact that his fundamental work against Wellhausen has now been translated.

One might fault him for responding to biblical criticism by negation only; for demonstrating the emptiness of the critics’ proofs but not offering a positive resolution to the problems they raise; for not confronting speculation with certitude; for not proposing a positive theory to resolve inconsistencies in the Torah. It is possible that he intended only to negate, and left the positive response to faith and tradition.[38]

Six years ago today, on 19 Marheshvan 5682 (November 20, 1921), he passed away at the age of 78. At the time, we all felt that he had no replacement, and that the generation had been orphaned. He was accorded much honor by his students and by all of German Orthodoxy; an honor that cultured people confer on their teachers; an honor that brings honor to those who give it.

There is no replacement for a giant, but there is comfort in his teaching.

May his soul be bound in the bond of life.

19 Marheshvan 5688 (November 14, 1927)
[1] For an introductory bibliography on Hoffmann, see the note here on a Seforim Blog post by Dr. Shnayer Leiman. The following sources can be found online on archive.org: Marx, Essays in Jewish Biography; Ginzberg, Students, Scholars and Saints.
[2] Today: Vrbové, Slovakia
[3] Today: Pápa, Hungary
[4] Today: Svätý Jur, Slovakia
[5] Today: Bratislava, Slovakia
[6] Mar Samuel, Rector der jüdischen Akademie zu Nehardea in Babylonien (Leipzig, 1873); available on Google Books.
[7] The dating of Hoffmann’s doctorate to 1875 is either a mistake or a typographical error, as the date on the published version of Mar Samuel (see previous note) is 1873. In Essays in Jewish Biography, p. 204 (see note 1), Alexander Marx dates Hoffman’s doctoral diploma to December 17, 1870.
[8] A reference to Rabbi Akiva’s return from the pardes (“orchard”) of secret mystical learning, free of physical, psychological, or religious injury; cf. Hagiga 13a. Hayyim Tchernowitz (Rav Tzair) uses the same expression with regard to Hoffmann in his biographical essay; cf. “R. David Zvi Hoffmann: Le-Partzufo Haruhani,” Ha-Tekufah, v. 13 (1922), p. 479.
[9] Vereinigung Traditionell-Gezetzestreuer Rabbiner
[10] Verband Orthodoxer Rabbiner. Thanks go to Dr. Marc B. Shapiro for this identification.
[11] Allgemeiner Rabbiner Verband in Deutschland. On the history of these organizations, see Matthias Morgenstern, From Frankfurt to Jerusalem: Isaac Breuer and the History of the Secession Dispute in Modern Jewish Orthodoxy (Leiden, 2002) pp. 38ff.
[12] Lipschuetz echoes Hoffmann’s own fear about the legacy of his German writings (see his introduction to Melamed Le-Ho’il and see note 15). Nearly a century later, we can state that Hoffmann’s major German works have had and will continue to have lasting influence, as nearly all of his published monographs have appeared in Hebrew translation. His commentary on Exodus was recently published in Hebrew from a German manuscript (trans. Asher Wasserteil, Jerusalem, 2010).
[13] Hoffmann appears to have changed his attitude to this type of pipul in his later years. In his introduction to Melamed Le-Ho’il (p. 2), he states that pilpul designed to sharpen the minds of students, even if it disregards logic, is more desirable in Germany than it once was. Since Torah scholarship and appreciation for Torah scholars has waned, pilpul shel harifut may help endear Torah learning to students. Hoffmann makes this point to justify the inclusion of his own pipul-style writings in Melamed Le-Ho’il.
[14] Melamed Le-Ho’il (Frankfurt, 1926); available on HebrewBooks.org.
[15] Melamed Le-Ho’il was edited by Hoffmann’s son Moses and published posthumously in 1926. But there is evidence to suggest that Hoffmann wished to publish the manuscript in some form; see Moses Hoffmann’s testimony here in his introduction to the printed version: וידוע למקורביו כי היה בדעתו בימי זקנותו להוציאם לאור הדפוס. In his own introduction to the manuscript, the senior Hoffmann expresses the hope that his children and his students benefit from its contents. He also states clearly his desire that Melamed Le-Ho’il becomes part of his permanent legacy – ויהיה לי לזכרון לדור אחרון – compared to his German writings which, he says, may soon be forgotten.
[16] Presumably near or at the conclusion of World War I.
[17] Theodor Fritsch (1852-1933), German anti-Semitic writer and publisher. See Richard S. Levy, Antisemitism: A Historical Encyclopedia of Prejudice and Persecution, v. 1 (Santa Barbara, 2005), pp. 249ff; link here.
[18] Der Schulchan-Aruch und die Rabbinen über das Verhältniss der Juden zu Andersgläubigen (Berlin, 1885); available on Google Books.
[19] Die erste Mischna und die Controversen der Tannaim (Berlin, 1882); Hebrew translation, Ha-Mishna Ha-Rishona U-Felugta De-Tanna’ei (trans. Samuel Greenberg, Berlin, 1914); available on HebrewBooks.org.
[20] Yitzhak Isaac Halevy Rabinowitz (1847-1914), author of Dorot Ha-Rishonim (Frankfurt, 1906ff.); available on HebrewBooks.org.
[21] Tchernowitz (p. 485) makes the same accusation against Halevy.
[22] I.e., Hoffmann was correct in saying that the earliest midrash, of the Soferim, was written as an interpretive layer attached directly to Scripture, and that it preceded the compilation of the First Mishna. However, Tannaitic midrash was indeed written as a subsequent elaboration of the First Mishna.
[23] Zur Einleitung in die halachischen Midraschim
[24] “Uber eine Mekhilta zu Deuteronomium,” in Jubelschrift zum Siebzigsten Geburgstag des Dr. Israel Hildesheimer (Shai la-Moreh) p. 83ff.; available on Google Books.
[25] Available on archive.org.
[26] Available on HebrewBooks.org.
[27] Available on HebrewBooks.org.
[28] Available on HebrewBooks.org, here (v. 1) and here (v. 2).
[29] Presumably nos. 3 and 4.
[30] Uber Einige Fragmente aus der Mischna des Abba Saul (Berlin, 1876).
[31] Ein Wort über die Mechilta des R. Simon(Breslau, 1889); available on Google Books.
[32] Mishnayot : Shishah Sidre Mishnah Be-Nikud Ha-Otiyot Uve-Haʻataḳah Ashkenazit (Berlin, 1893-1897).
[33] Began publication in 1874 as Magazin für Jüdische Geschichte und Literatur, edited by Abraham Berliner. From 1876, was renamed and published under the joint editorship of Berliner and Hoffmann.
[34] Siegmund Maybaum (1844-1919), lecturer at the Hochschule für die Wissenschaft des Judentums.
[35] Original version, Die Wichtigsten Instanzen Gegen die Graf-Wellhausensche Hypothese (Berlin, 1904); available on archive.org. Hebrew translation by Eliezer Barishansky (Jerusalem, 1928); available on HebrewBooks.org.
[36] Original version, Das Buch Leviticus (Berlin, 1905-1906); available on Google Books, here (v. 1) and here (v. 2). Hebrew version, Sefer Vayikra (trans. Zvi Har-Sheffer and Aharon Lieberman, Jerusalem, 1976).
[37] Original version, Das Buch Deuteronomium (Berlin, 1913-1922). Hebrew version, Sefer Devarim (trans. Zvi Har-Sheffer, Tel Aviv, 1961); available on the Daat website. Hoffmann’s commentary on Genesis, Sefer Bereshit, was published in Hebrew from a German manuscript (trans. Asher Wasserteil, Bnei Brak, 1969) and is available on Daat.
[38] Tchernowitz (pp. 489ff.) makes the same observation regarding Hoffmann’s sole focus on negating Wellhausen and offers a similar, though more vigorous, defense of Hoffmann. He says that “negating the negation” [shelilat ha-shelila] was sufficient for his purpose, since the burden of proof lies on one who questions the traditional view of the Torah. He adds that many had tried, but failed, in their attempt to prove the traditional view. Thus, the negative approach was preferable, by which Hoffmann could show that science does not contradict tradition. Moreover, Tchernowitz says, Hoffmann’s main objective was to show that the Documentary Hypothesis, though widespread, was merely a belief – and an unsupportable one at that – lacking scientific merit.


Besamim Rosh

In the previous post, I mentioned a new book which is a collection of articles by Moshe Samet, who is well-known for his studies of the Besamim Rosh. In the comments section it appeared that some wanted more information regarding the Besamim Rosh. I hope this will answer some of the questions raised and give a more comprehensive background.

The Besamim Rosh is a book of reponsa first published in Berlin in 1793. It contained two parts, the teshuvot and a commentary titled kasa d’harsena. The person who published it, R. Saul Berlin was the Berlin Chief Rabbi’s son. R. Saul claimed the teshuvot were from a manuscript which he attributed to the Rosh, R. Asher ben Yehiel. The commentary, kasa d’harsena, was from R. Saul. Right after it appeared there were some that doubted the authenticity of atleast some of the teshuvot. They claimed that those teshuvot were not from the Rosh.

There were many novel teshovot. Among these was one permitting shaving on Hol haMo’ad, permitting kitneyot and claiming kitneyot was actually a Karite custom, and relaxing the restrictions on a suicide.

The first book to come out against the Besamim Rosh was written by R. Ze’ev Wolf, titled Ze’av Y’trof and was published that same year, 1793. In it he takes issue with some of the teshuvot that are in the Besamim Rosh. He also, claims that R. Saul retracted one, the teshuva permitting shaving on hol haMo’ad. However, it is unclear whether R. Saul admitted it was a forgery or he retracted in a less sensational manner.

After this book, there were numerous others who doubted either the entirety or at least portions of the book. However, R. Saul’s father, R. Tzvi Hirsch Levin (Berlin) defended the work of his son and vouched for the authenticity of it. He claimed to have seen the actual manuscript, something that no one else had seen. There were others who also supported the book. It appears that R. Yosef Hayyim David Azulai, Hida, also vouched for it, based upon the testimony of R. Tzvi Hirsch.

R. Saul, actually had a history that may explain why some were suspect of him. He published under a pseudonym a book title Mitzpeh Yekutel which attacked R. Rafeal Hamburg, the chief Rabbi of Altona, Hamburg, Wansbeck (AH”U). This book was put in herem and burned in some cities. [As an aside after he was unmasked there were at least two teshovot published by different authors dealing with jurisdiction in herems. That is, whether the herem of one city, namely AH”U, can be enforced in another, namely Berlin. Obviously, this has many modern day implications, but it appears that many are not aware of such jurisdictional limitation of herems.]

Thus, it appears that some people already had rather negative opinions of R. Saul and this may have influenced their opinion of the authenticity of the Besamim Rosh.

As mentioned above, the Besamim Rosh was first published in 1793, however, it was not republished until 1881, nearly 100 years later. In this edition, two teshuvot were removed. The teshuva relaxing the rules for a suicide as well as one that permitted one riding on a horse on Shabbat. This second teshuva dealt with a case where one was riding on a horse and the Shabbat was approaching. The rider was faced with a dilemma, should he stop and thus have to scourge and rely on the hospitality of others or continue on to avoid that type of “embarrassment.” The teshuva permits him to continue based upon the rule kovod habreiot dokhe l’o s’ashe. That is, for respect one can violate certain prohibitions.

Finally, the Besamim Rosh was republished from the original edition in 1984. This edition has an extensive introduction that attempts to rehabilitate the Besamim Rosh. However, there are numerous flaws with the introduction. The publisher twists and in some instances perverts statements of those that question the authenticity of Besamim Rosh. He also make absurd arguments in support of his goal.

For example, one of the people that doubted the authenticity of the Besamim Rosh was R. Moshe Sofer, Hatam Sofer. Hatam Sofer calls the Besamim Rosh the Ketzvi haRosh -the lies of the Rosh. (Orakh Ha’ayim no. 154) However, the publisher claims this is an error. He explains that the Vienna edition (1895) of the Teshvot Hatam Sofer don’t read kitzvi haRosh, rather it reads kitvei haRosh- the writings of the Rosh. Thus, according to the publisher, all the editions of the Hatam Sofer that people relied upon were incorrect.

This, of course, is silly. The first edition of the Teshvot Hatam Sofer of this volume, was NOT the Vienna edition, rather it was Presburg, 1855. In that edition, which the publisher conveniently ignores, it says “kitzvei haRosh” the lies of the Rosh. This is but one of the numerous examples that can be found in this 1984 reprint.

In conclusion, there is a long running debate about the authenticity of this work, which has not been fully resolved, although at least one blogger may have a method to do so.



Eliezer and Joseph ben Naphtali Hertz Treves: Hebrew Publishers, briefly, in the Mid-Sixteenth Century

Eliezer and Joseph ben Naphtali Hertz Treves:
Hebrew Publishers, briefly, in the Mid-Sixteenth Century[1]

Marvin J. Heller

A Hebrew press was briefly active in Thiengen (Tiengen) in 1560. The publishers, from the distinguished rabbinic Treves family, were Eliezer and Joseph ben Naphtali Hertz Treves. The brothers only published six (possibly seven) books before being forced to close by a meeting of the leaders, both Protestant and Catholic, of the Swiss Confederation in June 1560, who feared that they were about to print the Talmud.[2]

The Treves family was noted for the many rabbinic scholars and communal leaders it produced over several centuries. Yehoshua Horowitz, in his description of the family history, informs that the family origin may have been in Troyes, France and subsequently in Italy and Germany. A second possibility is Treviso near Venice, Italy, in the 14th century, and yet another is that the family came from Trier, Germany (Trèves in French).[3] Isidore Singer, et. al., record forty-one distinguished members of the family, writing that “No other family can boast such a continuous line of scholars as this one, branches of which have been known under the names Treves, Tribas, Dreifuss, Trefouse, and Drifzan. There exists, however, no means of tracing the connection of these various branches, which even as early as the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries were already scattered over Germany, Italy, southern France, Greece, Poland, and Russia.”[4]

The earliest known Treves is Johanan ben Mattithiah Treves, chief rabbi of France (c. 1385 – 1394), who, after the expulsion of the Jews from France in 1394, resettled in Italy, where he passed away on July 21, 1439. A responsum on the prayers of orphans for their deceased parents, and a letter addressed to the community of Padua, are still extant in manuscript in the Florence Library (Bibliothecæ Hebraicæ Florentinæ Catalogus, p. 426). Several members of the family were employed in printing presses in Italy, among them Johanon Treves at the Bomberg, Sabbioneta and Bologna presses (and later partnered with Ovadiah Seforno. As well as a scholar in his own right. Like his relative, Yochanan authored a commentary to the Siddur that was published in Bologna in 1540 and Raphael ben Johanon, rabbi of Ferrara, as editor and proofreader in Sabbioneta.[5]

Our Treves of primary interest are Joseph and Eliezer ben Naphtali Hertz Treves (1495–1566),[6] who operated the press in Thiengen. The latter served in the rabbinate in Frankfurt am Main for approximately twenty-two years. He was considered among the leading rabbis of his generation. In 1558, Kaiser Friedrich I assigned Eliezer to a committee of three rabbis to resolve the controversy surrounding the election of the chief rabbi position in Prague. committee to register the votes of Prague Jewry for the chief rabbi position. A renowned Talmudist and a Kabbalist, Eliezer became an adherent of several pseudo-Messiahs, namely Asher Lemlein (Lemmlein), who appeared in the sixteenth century; Eliezer attributed the non-fulfilment of Lemmlein’s prophecy concerning the Messiah to “circumstances other than fraud.”[7] In 1561, Eliezer, a collector of manuscripts, went to Cracow, where he transcribed Solomon Molko’s commentaries.[8][9]

Eliezer had printed previously, briefly, in Zurich. His imprints were an all-Yiddish Josippon and Sefer Hayira (both 1546), as well as a Yiddish Psalms. Dr Moshe Nathan Rosenfeld informs that the same vignette was used in Zürich with the Yiddish Psalms (1558), as well as in Tiengen. He writes that “at a meeting of the Eidgenossenschaft in Baden the Catholic representatives of Luzern, accused their Zürich colleagues of allowing the sale of anti-Christian pamphlets in the streets of Zürich.” This resulted in Treves relocating to Thiengen, with the permission of the Count of Sulz, leaving his Yiddish types behind.[10]

Joseph Treves, born in 1490, added an introduction and glosses to their father’s prayer-book, which they published, as well as the publication of the Midrash Ha-Ne’elam on Ruth, under the title Yesod Shirim.

Their father, Naphtali Hirz or Hirtz Shatz (1473-c.1540)[11] was a kabbalist and rabbinic scholar, who served as hazzan and rabbinic judge in Frankfurt am Main. He authored a kabbalistic commentary on the prayer-book, entitled Dikduk Tefillah, printed with the prayer-book, Malah ha’Aretz Deah and Naftulei Elokim (Heddernheim, 1546) and a super commentary and index on R. Bahya ben Asher (1255-1340) on the Pentateuch.[12] The former work, Dikduk Tefillah, a kabbalistic interpretation of the prayer book, reflects the rise in messianic and Kabbalah currents in Ashkenazic Jewry. As Michael A. Meyer writes, “Dikduk Tefillah (The Precise Interpretation of Prayer, 1560), reflects a rise in such tendencies.”[13] These tendencies are evident in Eliezer’s interests, as shown above.

Naftulei Elokim

Turning to Thiengen, now Waldshut-Tiengen, home to our press of interest. It is located in Baden Germany, that is southwestern Baden-Württemberg at the border of Switzerland, north of Zurzach. Jews were likely resident there in the 14th century. In 1650, eight Jewish families received a letter of protection allowing them to conduct trade but not open stores. There was continuous friction with the local population through the 18th century. Jews were only welcome in public from 1870.[14]

Eliezer, together with his brother, Joseph,[15] established their Hebrew press in the small town of Thiengen in 1559 to print kabbalistic treatises, but primarily their father’s commentary, Malah ha’Aretz Deah. As noted above, the press was active for one year only, issuing six books in 1560 and, perchance, one title in 1566, a reprint of the previous edition of the piyyut (liturgical hymn) Shir ha-Yihud (Hymnerchandce, Divine Unity).[16] Printing in Thiengen had been permitted by the Count of Sulz. However, complaints were brought by the burghers, afraid of damages because of the press, to the Bishop of Constance. He initially, in a vague response, permitted the press to continue to operate. However, when, the matter was brought before a meeting of the leaders of the Swiss Confederation in June, 1560, to which Thiengen was subject, they demanded its closure, fearing that the Talmud was to be printed there.

Another brother was Samuel, who relocated to Russia and took the family name of Zevi. He was the author of Yesod Shirim (below) on the Book of Ruth. Samuel’s sons were Eliezer, author of distinguished works, among them Dammesek Eliezer (Lublin, 1646) on tractate Hullin and Si’ah ha-Sadeh (ibid., 1645), a collection of prayers.

Kimḥa de-Avishuna

Another Treves of interest, although his relationship to our Treves family is not clear, is R. Johanan ben Joseph Treves (c. 1490–1557). A peripatetic rabbi, he wandered for twenty years in northern and central Italy, where he served as a religious instructor and rabbi in various communities in northern and central Italy. An author and publisher, Johanan Treves wrote responsa, is credited with the commentary, Kimha de-Avishuna (Bologna, 1540) on the Roman rite festival prayer book, published anonymously, as well as several halakhic works, among them glosses to the Alfasi and commentary on the laws of shehitah au-vedikah. Johanan Treves reputedly was employed in the Hebrew press in Bologna from 1537 to 1541 and, perchance, from 1545–46, as a proofreader in Daniel Bomberg’s press in Venice (noted above).[17]

The books published in Thiengen are few in number. Yeshayahu Vinograd, in the Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book, records seven titles only, all but one printed in 1560, and a single title published in 1566, which, as noted above and we shall see below, is questionable. The varied books printed in Thiengen, in alphabetical (Hebrew) order, are:

אדם שכלי Adam Sedkheli – Kabbalistic and philosophic treatise by R. Simeon ben Samuel. Of French or German birth, Simeon ben Samuel lived in the fourteenth – fifteenth centuries. Adam Sedkheli was published in quarto format (40: 24 ff.).

Adam Sedkheli
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The text of the title page is set within a woodcut architectural frame. The two upper corners have shields, the right shield with a key, the left a double-headed eagle, the symbol of the Holy Roman Empire, likely indicating that Thiegen was not a free city but under the direct auspices of the Empire. Simeon added the subtitle, Hadrath Kodesh, because his name, given as שמעון בן שמואל ז”ל יסדו (1012) plus the number of letters in the title (7) equals the phrase Hadrath Kodesh הדרת קודש (=1019).[18] It is that name that appears as the header in the volumes’ text pages. The intent of the book, as stated on the title page, is to save souls from destruction.

Adam Sedkheli is on the Decalogue, thirteen attributes of God (shelosh esreh middot), thirteen articles of faith, and resurrection, with a commentary by the author. The book, written about 1400, is completed with a poetic kabbalistic entreaty, Or Kadmon, which exhorts God to “[further] rescue us from the cruel decrees [following] the four miracles [performed] for us this year [1400].”[19] The miracles are enumerated as:

Salvation from a decree of death in the Jubilee year

Rescue from thousands, all dressed in white

Deliverance from the murderous brigades of Geislsler

the abdication of the “Shameful King [Wentzel], who persecuted us for many years.

The printers’ names do not appear on Adam Sedkheli nor on several of the other books printed in Thiengen. In the absence of another press in this small community, however, it may be assumed that they were responsible for those works as well. David Gans, in Zemah David, notes that Eliezer died in Frankfort in 1563.[20]

Adam Sedkheli has been reprinted several times. Ch. B. Friedberg records seven editions in the Bet Eked Sepharim, beginning with a Lublin (1599) edition through a Warsaw (1915) edition.[21]

בגידת הזמן (משכיל על דבר ימצא טוב) Begidat Hazman – An allegoric maqāma (a poetic narrative in rhymed prose) by Mattathias (Mattityah ben Moses), a 15th century Spanish or Provençal Hebrew poet or Mattathias ha-Yiẓhari, a representative of the Jewish communities of Aragon at the Tortosa disputation (1413–14). This, the first edition of Begidat Hazman, was published in octavo format (80: [26] pp.).

Begidat Hazman
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The title page, with a pillared frame with cherubim, has the heading “מַשְׂכִּ֣יל עַל־דָּ֭בָר יִמְצָא־ט֑וֹב וּבוֹטֵ֖חַ בַּיהֹוָ֣ה אַשְׁרָֽיו He who is adept in a matter will attain success; Happy is he who trusts in the Lord (Proverbs 12:20).” Below it the text continues “For I will give all good things, and I will give the way of traitors. I will pour out my spirit, and I will declare to the multitude my words of the betrayal of time בגידת הזמן (Begidat Hazman); the words of Mattathias from captivity.” Here too the title-page header is not the book title.

Begidat ha-Zeman was written in c. 1450. It is described as having “a clear pedagogic, apologetic, and moral purpose. . . . It is written in the first person and the personal element is important. The author repents the sins of his youth, describing his experiences, writing that he speaks from his heart, so that his tale might serve as a warning.”[22]

Mattathias is also credited as being the author of Ahituv ve-Zlmon, also a maqāma, similar in style to Begidat ha-Zeman, written prior 1453, inspired by the religious disputations held in Spain. He is also credited with a commentary on Psalm 119 with references to the disputation, and a commentary to Pirkei Avot (preserved in part only).

Ch. B. Friedberg records three subsequent editions of Begidat ha-Zeman, published in Prague (1609), Amsterdam (1650), and Offenbach (1714).[23]

יסוד שירים Yesod Shirim – Our next title, Yesod Shirim, was written by Naphtali Hirz’s son Samuel. He was, as noted above, the brother who settled in Russia. Samuel authored Yesod Shirim, a kabbalistic commentary on the Book of Ruth, literal and kabbalistic explanations.[24] It was published in 19 c. ([32] ff.).

Yesod Shirim
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Here too the title-page has a pillared frame with images of cherubim, unlike those employed on the title-pages of Begidat ha-Zeman (above), and Malah ha-Aretz De’ah and Shir ha-Yihud (below). The header on the title-page, in large bold letters, is given as Tapuchei Zahav, from “Like golden apples (Tapuchei Zahav) in silver showpieces is a phrase well turned (Proverbs 25:11).” Below the brief title-page text continues “behold, this is a new thing… and hidden secrets, the taste of Marut, the secret of the Kingdom of the House of David, head of the poets. Therefore, I entitled it Yesod Shirim.” Within the text, set in a single column in rabbinic letters, the page header is Yesod Shirim.

Yesod Shirim, as noted above, is on Megillat Ruth. But it is not a commentary, rather it is Midrash ha-Ne’elam, the first printing of that section of the Zohar on Ruth. The colophon states that it was printed in Thiengen by the oppressed Joseph ben Naphtali on Sunday, 23 Teves 320 (January 10, 1560). Why oppressed (עשוק) is unclear.

מלאה הארץ דעה Malah ha-Aretz De’ah – The siddur (prayerbook) prepared by R. Naphtali Hirz Treves. Malah ha-Aretz De’ah was published in octavo format (80: [242] pp.). The text of the title-page has an attractive frame with cherubim at the sides.

Malah ha-Aretz De’ah
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

The title מלאה הארץ דעה is from “For the land shall be filled with devotion (malah ha-aretz de’ah) [to God]” and below it the verse continues “As water covers the sea” (Isaiah 11:9).[25] The text of the title-page continues that it is tefillah (prayer) for the entire year with an attractive commentary as well as a commentary in a kabbalistic manner by R. [Naphtali] Hirz [Treves]. Malah ha-Aretz De’ah is an Ashkenaz rite siddur. The text of the volume is in vocalized square letters accompanied by the commentary in rabbinic letters.

In addition to Naphtali Hirz Treves’ use of kabbalistic works in preparing his commentary to the siddur, he utilized several other sources, among the most important of which was R. Eleazar of Worms (c. 1176–1238) Sefer ha-Rokeah, an important and classic halachic and kabbalistic work.[26] Among his other sources was the Maharil (R. Jacob Moelin (c. 1365 –1427) and R. Bahya. Malah ha-Aretz De’ah closely follows the liturgy of Hasidei Ashkenaz. The commentary is extensive and lengthy.

Malah ha-Aretz De’ah was reprinted three times; two editions in Beni Brak, 1971 and 2004 and by Renaissance Hebraica c. 2000. The Renaissance Hebraica edition includes an alternative title page border. It reuses the border from Begidat Hazman.

מלכיאל Malkiel – A multi-faceted philosophical and ethical work on the afterlife, reward and punishment, and comforting Zion by R. Malkiel Hezkiah ben Abraham. Printed in quarto format (40: 22 pp.), the text of the title-page is concise, set in a decorative border. The purpose of Malkiel is described as being intended to understand the words of the sages.

Malkiel
Courtesy of the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad Ohel Yosef Yitzhak

Malkiel addresses such subjects as Gan Eden and Gehinom for the souls and body after death. The concealed meaning of pairs is explained, and the issue of “the tree of knowledge of good and evil” (Genesis 2:9) that the Lord prohibited to the first man and the reasons for his sin. Also explicated are the Garden of Eden, the Tree of Knowledge, Og King of Bashan and additional enigmatic aggadic materials. Additional subjects based on the words of the sages in the Talmud and Midrashim are addressed. The text is in a single column in rabbinic letters.

This is the first printing of Malkiel. Friedberg records seven later editions, beginning with Offenbach (1715) through Vilna and Grodno (1819).[27]

שיר היחוד Shir ha-Yihud – Shir ha-Yihud (Hymn of Divine Unity) is an anonymous piyyut (liturgical poem) written in the mid-twelfth century, most often attributed to Samuel ben Kalonymus he-Hasid (c. 1130-1175), less often to his son, Judah ben Samuel he-Hasid (c. 1150-1217), author of the Sefer Hasidim, both among the foremost representatives of the Hasidei Ashkenaz, and, on occasion, to yet others. This edition was published in quarto format (40: 20 ff.). The title-page has the same frame with cherubim as Begidat Hazman (above).

Although there exist several piyyuttim entitled Shir ha-Yihud, this is the most well-known. Unlike most early manuscript versions of the Shir, which were divided into chapters, later versions, and all printed editions, are divided by the days of the week, one for each day, praising God and his uniqueness, in contrast to the insignificance of man. Lines are divided into rhymed couplets, with four beats to a couplet The fourth day differs from the other days in that it is the only day for which the verses are arranged in alphabetic order; however, the number of lines to a letter are not equal. Shir ha-Yihud is, philosophically, based on the Sefer ha-Emunot ve-ha-De’ot of R. Saadiah Gaon (882-942), a fact acknowledged on the title page.

Shir ha-Yihud
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

It is customary, today, to recite Shir ha-Yihud on Yom Kippur eve, at the end of services, its more frequent repetition being opposed by a number of rabbinic figures, such as R. Jacob Emden (16971776), R. Solomon Luria (1510-1574) and Rabbi Judah Loew (Maharal, 1525-1609). The latter restricting it to Yom Kippur only, a “day set aside for praise of God, when a person is on a higher level, comparable to an angel” (Netivot Ovodah ch. 12, Netivot Olam).

The text of Shir ha-Yihud is accompanied by the commentary of Yom Tov Lipman Muelhausen (14th-15th centuries). Muelhausen was a dayyan in Prague, a highly respected halakhist and kabbalist. His most famous work is the Sefer ha-Nizzahon, a polemic against Christianity, passed down by hand from generation to generation, until a monk, Theodore Hackspan, seized a copy from the rabbi of Schneittach. Hackspan translated Nizzahon into Latin, added notes in attempt to refute its arguments, and had it printed (Altdorf, 1644). A Jewish edition did not appear until 1701. In a brief introduction to Shir ha-Yihud, Muelhausen writes that he has seen many commentaries on this holy work, but found them to be “straw mixed with grain.” Noting that these are inadequate, not explaining the intent of the author, he asks, “help from the Helper, my Rock, the Almighty, and I will write here all that I received, “mouth to mouth” (Numbers 12:8) from those who know the truth.” [28]

1566 שיר היחוד Shir ha-Yihud – A improbable edition of Shir ha-Yihud is listed in the Thesaurus as the seventh Thiengen imprint. It is also recorded by Isaac Benjacob in Otzar ha-Sefarim (Vilna, 1880) together with the previous 1560 printing.[29] Nevertheless, it is improbable that six years after the press was forced to close it should reopen and publish a single work, identical to one of its previous titles. Furthermore, no library records a copy of this edition. Perchance, the entry was a misreading of the early printing, copied by bibliographers and then recopied, so that in some circles it was accepted as a valid edition.[30]

The books printed in Thiengen, small in number, are nevertheless diverse. Subject matter is varied, encompassing kabbalistic and philosophic works, an allegoric maqāma, a kabbalistic commentary on the Book of Ruth, the siddur prepared by R. Naphtali Hirz Treves, and a liturgical poem. An unusual and interesting aspect of several of the Thiengen imprints is that the large lead phrase on the title-page is not the book title, which follows later in a smaller text font.

The publishers were prominent rabbis from a distinguished rabbinic family. The books printed within the span of one year, to be repetitive, are rich and varied. Thiengen, as so many other small short-lived presses, deserves to be recalled, having made a short lived but valuable contribution to Hebrew literature.

  1. Once again, I would like to express my gratitude and appreciation to Eli Genauer for his insightful comments. ↑
  2. Stephen G. Burnett, “The Regulation of Hebrew Printing in Germany 1555-1630” in Infinite Boundaries: Order, Disorder and reorder in early Modern German Culture, ed. M. Reinhart & T. Robisheux, Sixteenth century Essays and Studies, no. 40 (Kirksville, 1998), pp. 329-30. ↑
  3. Yehoshua Horowitz, “Treves,” Encyclopedia Judaica, (Jerusalem, 2007), vol. 20 pp. 134-35. See generally, Marcus Horovitz, Rabbanei Frankfurt (Jerusalem, 1972), 21-26; Nahum Brüll, “Das Geshiechet der Treves,” in Jahrbücher für jüdische Geschichte und Litteratur (Year 1, 1874), 87-122; and his additions, id., (Year 2, 1876), 209-10; Tzvi Lehrer, Tolodot Naphtali Hertz Treves,” in Hetzei Geborim, 7, (2014), 485-95. ↑
  4. Isidore Singer, Schulim Ochser, Frederick T. Haneman, Richard Gottheil, Isaac Broyde, “Treves,” Jewish Encyclopedia vol. 12 (New York, 1901-06), pp. 243-48. ↑
  5. David Amram, The Makers of Hebrew Books in Italy (Philadelphia, 1909, reprint London, 1963), pp. 205, 291. ↑
  6. There is uncertainty about his birth and death dates. Horovitz, Rabbanei, 191-92. ↑
  7. According to R David Gans, Eliezer attributed the failure to “the sins of the generation.” David Gans, Zemah David (Prague, 1592), Asher Lemlein (Lammlin) (16th century) was a false messiah active in 1500–02. Of Ashkenazi origin, Lemlein began his activities in northeast Italy, continuing in Germany. He claimed that, the redemption was approaching because the Messiah, Lemlein himself, had already come. Even some Christians accepted his Messianic prophecy. After his passing his movement ceased. Richard Gottheil, Isaac Broydé, “Lemmlein (Lammlin), Asher,” vol. 7, Jewish Encyclopedia, p. 680; “Lemlein (Lammlin), Asher,” vol. 12, Encyclopedia Judaica, p. 638. Dan Rabinowitz informed that Eliezer was living in Cracow already and transcribed the letters because he was caught up in the Messianic speculation. In 1531, he wrote to his father Naphtali, about the religious fever Molcho introduced into the general public. See Naphtali Hertz Treves, Malah ha-Aretz De’ah. ↑
  8. Mordechai Margalioth, ed., Encyclopedia of Great Men in Israel I (Tel Aviv, 1986), col. 190 [Hebrew]; Isidore Singer, Schulim Ochser, Frederick T. Haneman, Richard Gottheil, Isaac Broyde, “Treves,” Jewish Encyclopedia vol. 12 (New York, 1901-06), pp. 243-48. Horovitz, Rabbanei 22-28, who provides the most comprehensive discussion regarding Eliezer. ↑
  9. Solomon Molcho (1500-32) was born Diogo Pires to Marrano parents. He circumcised himself, became a follower of David Reubeni, who claimed to be the son of a King Solomon and brother of a King Joseph ruler of the lost tribes of Reuben, Gad, and half Manasseh in the desert of Habor. At some point he too claimed to be the Messiah. His sermons were published, Derashot (Salonika, 1529) and subsequently as Sefer ha-Mefo’ar. In 1532, Molcho went to Ratisbon, where the emperor Charles V imprisoned him. An ecclesiastical court sentenced Molcho to death by fire for Judaizing. He was offered a pardon by the emperor on the condition that he recant and return to the church. Molcho refused, choosing a martyr’s death. (Isidore Singer, Philipp Bloch, “Molko, Solomon,” vol. 8 JE, p. 651); Joseph Shochetman] “Molcho, Solomon,” vol. 14 EJ pp. 423-24. Elisheva Carlebach, “Messianism,” The YIVO Encyclopedia of Jews in Eastern Europe, Gershon David Hundert, ed. Vol. 1 (New Haven & London, 2008), p. 1160, informs that Molcho left a deep impression on Ashkenazic Jews. His messianic flag and caftan were preserved by the Jews of Prague and can still be seen there today. Concerning both false messiahs also see Moses Idel, Messianic Mystics (New Haven & London, 1998) and Gershom S. Scholem, Sabbatai Sevi; the Mystical Messiah (Princeton, 1973), var. cit. ↑
  10. Dr Moshe Nathan Rosenfeld, “The Identity of an unknown Yiddish Prayer Book (From Zürich to Zürich),” Seforim Blog (February 18, 2025). ↑
  11. He died prior to 1546 because, in Yesod Shirim, published that year, he is referred to as already deceased. But the exact year of his death is unknown. See Lehrer, Tolodot, 494n106. ↑
  12. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Naphtali_Hirsch_Treves. See also, Horovitz, Rabbanei, 21. Naftulei Elokim is one of two books printed in Heddernheim, a quarter of Frankfurt am Main. the other work being a Selihot, also printed in 1546, both published by a Hayyim ben Joseph (Yeshayahu Vinograd, Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book. Listing of Books Printed in Hebrew Letters Since the Beginning of Printing circa 1469 through 1863 II (Jerusalem, 1993-95), p. 158. ↑
  13. Michael A. Meyer, editor, German Jewish History in modern Times, vol. 1 Tradition and Enlightenment 1600-1780 (1996 New York) p. 72. ↑
  14. “Tiengen,” The Encyclopedia of Jewish life Before and During the Holocaust, editor in chief, Shmuel Spector; consulting editor, Geoffrey Wigoder; foreword by Elie Wiesel, vol. 3, p.1306. ↑
  15. Some question whether they were related or just shared similarly named fathers. See Lehrer, “Tolodot,” 295n110. ↑
  16. Friedberg, Ch. B. History of Hebrew Typography of the following Cities in Europe: Amsterdam, Antwerp, Avignon, Basle, Carlsruhe, Cleve, Coethen, Constance, Dessau, Deyhernfurt, Halle, Isny, Jessnitz, Leyden, London, Metz, Strasbourg, Thiengen, Vienna, Zurich. From its beginning in the year 1516 (Antwerp, 1937), [Hebrew]; Vinograd, Thesaurus of the Hebrew Book. II p. 3394 ↑
  17. Yehoshua Horowitz, “Treves, Johanan ben Joseph,” EJ, vol. 20, p. 135. ↑
  18. Executive Committee of the Editorial Board.,M. Seligsohn, “Simeon ben Samuel,” Jewish Encyclopedia vol. 11, p. 357. ↑
  19. Marvin J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book: An Abridged Thesaurus vol. II (Brill, Leiden, 2004), pp. 504-05. ↑
  20. David Gans, Zemah David (New York, n. d.), I, yr. 1563 [Hebrew].As Brüll notes, this is an error. Likely reversing the letter “gimal” and “zayin.” ↑
  21. Ch. B. Friedberg, Bet Eked Sepharim, (Israel, n. d), alef 629 [Hebrew]. ↑
  22. Yonah David/Angel Sáenz-Badillos, “Mattathias (or Mattityah ben Moses?)” vol. 13 EJ, pp. 685-86. ↑
  23. Friedberg, Bet Eked Sepharim, bet 243. Concerning the Prague edition, Gavin McDowell, “A Genealogy of Errors: Targum Pseudo-Yonatan’s Commentary Tradition” (https://books.openedition.org/ephe/2868?lang=en) informs that Shabbetai Bass (1641-1718), author of the first bibliography of Hebrew books by a Jewish author, in his Siftei Yeshenim (Amsterdam, 1680) misdated Begidat ha-Zeman. Acording to McDowell “The tally of the numeric value of these letters is 369 (80 + 5 + 80 + 200 + 1 + 3), which is 1608/09 of the Christian calendar. Bass forgot to count the word פה, reducing the date by 85 years and resulting in the year 284, which is 1524 CE.” ↑
  24. Yehoshua Horowitz, EJ vol, 20 p. 134. ↑
  25. The exact title is subject to some confusion and debate. The enlarged words on the title page, Malah ha-Aretz De’ah, would normally indicate it is the title. But, some of the other Thengin prints like Sod Yesharim, the enlarged letters, in that instance, Tapuchei Zahav, are not the title. Following Ben Jacob, Friedberg, in Bet Eked Sepharim refers to it Tefilot me-Kol ha-Shana Minhag Ashkenaz. Friedberg, Bet Eked Sepharim, Taf 1711. Yet, he is cited in many rabbinic texts as Siddur Rav Hirtz Shatz, and the two Beni Brak reprints use that title. See Lehrer, Tolodot, 492. Naphtali, in his introduction, titles the work Dikduk Tefilah. Unlike the printer’s introduction that precedes the work, Naphtali’s does not appear until after P’sukei D’Zimra, and may have been overlooked. ↑
  26. The entire commentary for P’sukei D’Zimra are from Eleazar. See “Editor’s Note,” Hetzei Geborim, 8(2015), 1121. ↑
  27. Friedberg, Bet Eked Sepharim, mem 2094. ↑
  28. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book, p. 518-19; Joseph Dan, ed., Shir Hayihud (Jerusalem, 1981), pp. xii-ix and 7-26 [Hebrew with English introduction]; and A. M. Habermann, Shir ha-Yihud ve-ha-Kovod (Jerusalem, 1958), pp. 11-12 [Hebrew]. See also Abraham Berliner, “Shir ha-Yihud,” in Ketavim Nivharim I (Jerusalem, 1945), pp. 145-70 [Hebrew]. ↑
  29. Isaac Benjacob in Otzar ha-Sefarim (Vilna, 1880), p. 183 no. 475 [Hebrew]. ↑
  30. Concerning the misdating and other errors in the publishing of Hebrew books see Marvin J. Heller, “Who can discern his errors? Misdates, Errors, and Deceptions, in and about Hebrew Books, Intentional and Otherwise” Hakirah: The Flatbush Journal of Jewish Law and Thought 12 (2011), pp. 269-91, reprinted in Further Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book (Leiden/Boston, 2013), pp. 395-420; ibid. “Who can discern his errors? Misdates, Errors, Deceptions, and other Variations in and about Hebrew Books, Intentional and Otherwise: Revisited,” Seforimblog, Sunday, July 03, 2016, reprinted in Essays on the Making of the Early Hebrew Book (Leiden/Boston, 2020, pp. 507-36. ↑


Shadal on Exodus by Daniel A. Klein (Kodesh Press) – New Book Announcement

Order on Amazon or on the Kodesh Press website.
Very rarely in the history of parshanut has one author written both a translation of the entire Torah text and a complete Torah commentary in Hebrew.  Most likely, no one has accomplished this feat since Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto, 1800-1865).  Now, the second volume of his Pentateuco is available in a new, all-English version—Shadal on Exodus:  Samuel David Luzzatto’s Interpretation of the Book of Shemot, translated and edited by Daniel A. Klein (New York: Kodesh Press, 2015).  This edition is a double translation, rendering into clear and modern English both Shadal’s Italian version of the text and his Hebrew perush.  This marks the first appearance of Shadal’s complete work on Shemot in 143 years, since its original publication in Padua, 1872. 
A great-grandnephew of Moshe Hayyim
Luzzatto (author of Mesillat Yesharim), Shadal served for more than 35
years as a professor of Bible, Hebrew, and Jewish history and religion at the
Collegio Rabbinico of Padua, where he mentored many of the future leaders of
Italian Jewry.  Shadal was a superb
linguist, writer, and religious thinker, devoting his talents above all to parshanut.  Although he was a devout believer in the
divinity, unity, and antiquity of the Torah, Shadal approached the text in a
remarkably open spirit of inquiry, drawing upon a wide variety of sources,
ancient and contemporary, Jewish and non-Jewish, and focusing on the “plain”
meaning (peshat) as he saw it.  A
passionate scholar with a torrid “Italian” temperament, Shadal laced his
commentary with occasional touches of wit and sarcasm, and many of his
interpretations may strike even the modern reader as fresh and novel.
Among his most interesting comments on the Book of Exodus are the
following:
  •     Even when performing miracles, God prefers to adhere to the ways of nature in part.  Thus, the plagues of Egypt resembled in some respect phenomena that were natural in Egypt, some occurring in one year and some occurring in another, except that in the year in question, all of them came clustered together, and each one contained a novel aspect that was not found in nature (see at Ex. 7:20).  Similarly, the splitting of the Red Sea was a miraculous event mixed with natural elements, not entirely unlike a phenomenon that saved the Dutch fleet during a seventeenth-century war with England (see at Ex. 14:21).  In so holding, Shadal rejected on the one hand the extreme attempts by some moderns to naturalize the Exodus miracles, and on the other hand any fanciful embellishments by more traditional scholars that “unnecessarily overloaded the Torah’s account with signs and wonders.”
  • In the phrase tehomot yekhasyumu (“the depths covered them”) in the Song of the Sea, the grammatically strange and unique word yekhasyumu is best explained as a use of onomatopoeia—that is, the employment of an imitative and naturally suggestive word for rhetorical effect—because the double “u” sound arouses an impression of darkness and depth and thus portrays to the listener’s ear the enemy’s sinking into the deep waters (see at Ex. 15:5).  In fact, Shadal’s treatment of the entire Song is the pearl of his Exodus perush.  In the course of his commentary on chapter 15, he includes, among other things, (1) a discussion of why ancient Hebrew poetry contains traces of Aramaic, (2) a thorough explanation of the poetic device of parallelism, (3) an essay on the derivation and semantics of the word kodesh (“holiness”), and for good measure, (4) a stinging diatribe against the philosophy of Spinoza.
  •  One of the
    purposes behind the collection of the silver half-shekel for the Tabernacle was
    to diminish the people’s fear of the “evil eye” (see at Ex. 30:12).  They were being counted, and the people
    believed that a census might arouse the evil eye unless they paid a “ransom” to
    help build the sanctuary.  God did not
    wish to abolish the folk belief in the evil eye altogether, since it had the
    beneficial effect of keeping the people from putting too much trust in their
    own might or wealth.  In fact, said
    Shadal, what the common people attributed to the evil eye—and modern scholars
    just as misguidedly dismissed as coincidence—was a Divinely decreed phenomenon
    of nature, that “pride goeth before the fall.”
Shadal on
Exodus is equipped with explanatory notes, a source index, a
subject and author index, and a list identifying the many and varied
authorities that Shadal cited. 

EDITED 12.17.2015 here are a few sample pages:

The book may be ordered now on Amazon or on the Kodesh Press website.


the Michtavim blog, an affiliate of the Seforim blog

In addition to my work that will continue at the Seforim blog — we’ve got some great posts going up soon — I have recently started a new blog, the Michtavim blog, an affiliate of the Seforim blog, where I hope to provide interested readers with up-to-date references and discussions of the latest scholarship from the world of academic Jewish studies and Orthodox Judaism.

Over the next weeks, in addition to posting my musings on a daily basis, I will be adapting a selection of my previous posts from my AJHistory blog (a”h) and the Seforim blog and placing them at the Michtavim blog.

For now, see the following few links for my new posts at the Michtavim blog.

— “From the Archives of the Royal Library in Metz” (link)
— “305th yahrzeit of R. Yair Hayyim Bacharach (1638-1702)” (link)
— “The Sermons and Yeshivot of R. Aharon Kotler” (link)
— “When a Rabbi is Accused of Heresy: The Latest in the Emden-Eybeschütz Controversy” (link)

I hope that you enjoy and I appreciate your feedback.