Purim roundup

Since Purim is almost upon us, here are some older Seforim Blog posts dealing with Purim themes (arranged chronologically):
Purim, Mixed Dancing and Kill Joys (3.06.2006); Mahar”i Mintz permitted cross dressing and mixed dancing on Purim. Also discussed are other rabbinic reactions to Purim merrymaking.
Review of Reckless Rites by Elliott Horowitz (4.07.2006). This controversial book subtitled “Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence” discusses incidents of Jewish violence toward non-Jews on Purim and the way Jewish historians sometimes downplayed these incidents.
Tussle Over Horowitz’s Book (10.11.2006) discusses the resulting fallout of this book, whose thesis was disliked by Hillel Halkin in Commentary.
The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature: A Historical-Culinary Survey (2.28.2007), a classic post by Eliezer Brodt on this relatively recent Jewish custom.
Judah Wistinetzky and Mishloach Manot to his American friends (3.02.2007); Menachem Butler points out a post by Ari Kinsberg about a sefer distributed as a mishloach manot gift to the author’s friends.
Purim and Parodies (3.17.2008) by Eliezer Brodt. Eliezer discusses everything from a humorous Purim piyut included in Mahzor Vitry, to Kalonymus ben Kalonymus’s Massekhet Purim to the very rare Sefer Ha-kundas, a 19th century parody of the laws of trouble-making in the style of the Shulhan Aruch.
The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature: A Historical-Culinary Survey Revisited by Eliezer Brodt (3.18.2008). Eliezer revisits his post, updated with many additions and corrections.
“‘Most of all you’ve got to hide it from the kids…’ Reading Esther before Bed” by Elliott Horowitz (2.25.2010). This post discusses bible tales adopted for children in softened form.
The Origin of Ta’anit Esther by Mitchell First (3.3.2011). In this recent post, it is argued that this fast’s origin is even later than the original She’iltot (8th century).
***
Also, here are a few Purim posts from fellow-traveller On the Main Line:
A duel fought with swords on Purim, 1891 a duel fought with swords on Purim, between a Jew and a modern-day Haman.
How Moses Montefiore spent his time on Purim – giving matanot la-evyonim.
1841 Purim in New York, to bang at Haman’s name or not to bang?



Shavout Night and Coffee

There are many customs associated with Shavout, you can read about some here and here. One, is staying up all night and learning Torah (or at least part). This custom, which began in the 16th century in Safet spread rather quickly throughout the Jewish world. R. Yosef Karo, the author of the Shulkan Orakh lent a spiritual side. R. Karo stayed up all night and was studying with his student R. Shlomo Alkabtz (author of Lecha Dodi) and the following occurred:

Rav Yosef Karo and I agreed to stay up all night on Shavuot… we did not sleep for one minute… and when we began to study the Mishna.. we heard the voice of the Divine Presence, [with a feeble voice] speaking through Yosef Karo: ‘May you be blessed; return to your studies, do not stop for one minute, and go to Eretz Yisrael… Do not have pity on your vessels [material goods], because you will be sustained by “the upper realms”… so hurry to Eretz Yisrael, because I will be your sustainer, and I will provide for you and the peace of your house.’ And we all raised up a great cry of joy, when we heard the Divine Presence, her voice pleading with us…

Thus, feel the Divine and give Him honor.. and God will cause your hearts to merit becoming one with the Holy Land, to work it together, Amen.

Elliott Horowitz, who we had mentioned previously, has a rather interesting explanation to the quick spread of the custom. Horowitz notes that the rise in popularity of remaining up all night was due to the new drink – coffee. Coffee with its stimulant powers allowed more people to participate in this ritual. Thus, Horowitz notes in a period of thirty years no less than five editions of Tikkun lel Shavout are published in Venice. The same is true in other areas of Europe. This coincided with the rise of coffeehouses. Venice, the same city with all the printings of the Tikkun lel Shavout, in the 18th century, had some 200 coffeehouses (even prior to the rise of Starbucks). In Worms, the community was tasked with supplying coffee specifically for Shavout night. These facts precipitated greater parcipitation in a ritual with its demand upon wakefullness through the night.

While the above is rather interesting explaination for the spread of this custom, it is worth noting that Horowitz’s article appears incomplete. Specifically, he doesn’t touch on two other rituals which would benefit from coffee. The first would be Pesach night. As one is obligated to stay up (and this is min HaTorah) coffee it would seem would be perfect. (In fact, Briskers only stay up on Pesach night and do not stay up on Shavout to highlight this.)

But, perhaps coffee was not used on Pesach because a) it was a private – in the home and b) some considered hametz or kitnyot or at least susceptible to admixture with them.

The second area is the custom to say Shilchot at midnight. Many say it in the morning or some even say it early evening, but many hold midnight is the best time, why did this not benefit from coffee? In other words, why do we not see a rise in people reciting Selichot at midnight after coffee is introduced.

Finally, Horowitz does not discuss how almost all of the kabalistic customs from Safed where quickly adopted by the rest of Europe even when they had nothing to do with coffee. So the remaining awake all night can be seen as just an outgrowth of the acceptance of the others, think kabbalat shabbat etc.

Although Horowitz doesn’t touch upon these, his thesis is one to bear in mind when one is indulging in coffee (today RedBull) and cheesecake at 2 am.

Sources: Elliott Horowitz, “Coffee, Coffeehouses and the Nocturnal Rituals of Early Modern Jewry,” AJS Review 14:1 (Spring, 1989) 17-46; For a fascinating view of the spread of coffee to Amsterdam Jews and the rest of the world, one should read David Liss’s historical fiction work “The Coffee Trader.”




ArtScroll’s Response and My Comments

 ArtScroll’s Response and My Comments
by Marc B. Shapiro 
My recent post here was more popular than my typical post. I base this statement on the fact that I received more emails from readers than usual and the post was picked up by a variety of different websites. The part dealing with the censorship of Rashbam was translated into Hebrew here (with one of the commenters calling for a herem to be placed on ArtScroll)[ and see also here.
ArtScroll has now issued its response. The following has been sent out to those who wrote to ArtScroll about the censorship.
Let us make clear at the outset, ArtScroll has total and uncompromising respect for Chazal and the classic commentators. We do not censor them. Every one of their words is holy, and we have never deigned to tamper with their sacred texts.
For an understanding of the matter under discussion, it is important to present the background of the published versions of Rashbam’s commentary on the Torah.

·      Rashbam’s commentary was first printed in 1705, based on the only existing manuscript of his virtually complete commentary on the Chumash. That manuscript began with Parashas Vayeira.

·      Subsequent editions were based on that 1705 printing.

·      In 1882, David Rosin published a new annotated edition of Rashbam’s commentary.

·   The new edition also included a commentary on the Parshiyos Bereishis, Noach, and Lech-Lecha based on comments culled by Rosin from Rashbam’s other writings as well as selections from other works that cite Rashbam. Additionally, this 1882 edition included material taken from a newly-discovered manuscript containing one page of commentary ascribed to Rashbam, on only the first chapter of Bereishis ending in the middle of verse 1:31.

·      This manuscript fragment includes an exegesis that appears several times – an exegesis that Ibn Ezra, in his famous Iggeres HaShabbos, vehemently condemns, stating, that it had been put forth by “minim” (heretics). Furthermore, a later exegesis in the same manuscript page (on verse 14) directly contradicts that earlier exegesis.
In our Czuker edition of Mikraos Gedolos, we wished to provide the Torah public with the fullest version of the Rashbam’s commentary, so rather than beginning with Parashas Vayeira, we incorporated additional material from the 1882 Rosin edition, from the beginning of Bereishis. However, given Ibn Ezra’s attribution of this exegesis to “minim,” coupled with a completely contradictory exegesis in verse 14, it is questionable whether Rashbam actually proposed the exegesis attributed to him.  Because of these factors we added only those writings attributed to Rashbam whose authenticity have not been questioned. Far from “censorship,” we have added to the older, standard Mikraos Gedolos editions.
Nevertheless, for the sake of clarity, we should have indicated that the basis for our text of Rashbam was the standard Vilna edition of 1898, with emendations from the Rosin edition of 1882. Indeed, this is what we have indicated in our just-published Sefer Shemos volume, and which will be reflected in future reprints of Sefer Bereishis.
* * * *
In my response I will only deal with the matter at hand, that is, the censorship of Rashbam’s commentary, not with the larger matter of whether ArtScroll really has “total and uncompromising respect for . . . the classic commentators.” I have dealt with this latter point in previous posts and offered evidence that contradicts ArtScroll’s assertion.
Let me begin by saying that the one word that best describes ArtScroll’s statement is “chutzpah”. Here we have an explanation from Rashbam that has been discussed and dealt with by some of the greatest Torah scholars for well over a century, yet ArtScroll feels that it knows better than all of them and thus has the authority to simply delete passages from the commentary. If that isn’t chutzpah, I don’t know what is.

Rashbam’s brother, Rabbenu Tam, famously attacked those who deleted or emended passages in the Talmud based on their own understanding.[1] Rabbenu Tam realized that if everyone had the freedom to do with the text as he wished, it wouldn’t be long before the Talmud was irrevocably damaged. As such, anyone who has a suggestion about a mistake in the text is free to add it in the form of a note or in a commentary, but he is not permitted to alter the text itself. The only honest thing would have been for ArtScroll to have included the “objectionable” passages and then explain why they feel that these texts are not authentic.
The fact that ArtScroll sees the passages that it deleted as heretical is irrelevant. Great people have regarded texts of the Rambam, of R. Kook, and of many others as heretical. Does that mean that we can start deleting these texts? There are aharonim and at least one rishon who believe that there are passages in the Talmud that were inserted by people intent on mocking the Sages (details will be in a future post). Does that mean that if ArtScroll shares this opinion it is entitled to delete these passages as well?
As I mentioned, the chutzpah is seen in the fact that ArtScroll feels that it knows better than such great figures as R. David Zvi Hoffmann[2] and R. Yaakov Kamenetsky.[3] Both of these men were not simply great talmudists but were also great biblical scholars, and they expound Rashbam’s view. It never occurred to them to delete the passages or to claim that they aren’t authentic. Cassuto was another great biblical scholar and he believed that Rashbam’s understanding of the verse is correct.[4]
Every student of Torah is taught the virtue of humility. What this means is that if you don’t understand something you seek out people greater than yourself to hear their perspective. How come ArtScroll didn’t follow this route before taking the drastic step of deleting the comments of Rashbam?
Unfortunately, if ArtScroll’s mikraot gedolot becomes the standard, anyone who uses the commentaries of R. Hoffmann, R. Kamenetsky, Cassuto and so many others will be very confused. These commentaries will cite Rashbam and explain his words, but the reader who opens up his ArtScroll mikraot gedolot to see what Rashbam says “inside” won’t be able to find it. If he doesn’t read the Seforim Blog, he won’t know what is going on.
For over a hundred years people studied Rashbam’s commentary without any problem. Different interpretations were offered, all in order to make sense of Rashbam’s words. Around fifteen years ago a few people, none of whom have any scholarly or religious standing, started making noise that there is heresy in Rashbam’s commentary on Genesis chapter 1.[5] This led a couple of haredi publishers to delete some or all of the “problematic” comments (different editions have different deletions).[6]
ArtScroll has chosen to follow this regrettable path. When this nonsense first began with the haredim in Israel, the great R. Yehoshua Mondshine, whose recent passing is an enormous loss for all, published the following letter in Kovetz Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael.[7]

The disdain he shows in this letter would be magnified if he were writing about ArtScroll, as one would expect ArtScroll to know better. It is unfortunate that ArtScroll did not heed his final words directed towards publishers inclined to censorship.
יש להתרות במו”לים שלא יהיו נחפזים “לצנזר” את פירוש הרשב”ם מכח סברות תמוהות וקלושות, ויחרדו לנפשם מאזהרות הקדמונים דלייטי ליד המגיה בספרים.
Following R. Mondshine’s letter, there appears a very lengthy letter by R. Menahem ben Shimon[8] explaining that Rashbam’s comments at the beginning of Genesis should not be controversial at all. He concludes by comparing censorship of Rashbam to the burning of Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed, and adds
יש בזה עזות מצח, וביזוי דברי הקדמונים, והתייחסות לדבריהם כאילו חלילה מדובר בתקליטור עם משחקים חינוכיים “בהכשר הרבנים”, וכיו”ב, וכבר הזהירונו חז”ל להיזהר בכבוד תלמידי חכמים שכל דבריהם כגחלי אש.
I have to acknowledge that some people are having a good chuckle right now at my expense. Call it naiveté, but I was convinced that the response of ArtScroll would be to admit the mistake, blame it on an error in “editing” or something like that, and correct matters in the next printing. That would have been a great outcome. I, more than many others, was shocked by ArtScroll’s response. 
In its response ArtScroll states: “[G]iven Ibn Ezra’s attribution of this exegesis to “minim,” coupled with a completely contradictory exegesis in verse 14, it is questionable whether Rashbam actually proposed the exegesis attributed to him.”
The first thing to note is that in the preface to the Iggeret ha-Shabbat, where Ibn Ezra explains what led him to write the work, he does not attribute this exegesis to “minim”. ArtScroll would have you believe that Ibn Ezra stated that the passages they have deleted are heretical interpolations. Even if this was the case, it would only be Ibn Ezra’s opinion. This would not entitle ArtScroll to delete the passages, just like they don’t have the right to delete other passages that some commentator thought were not authentic. But in this case ArtScroll is simply wrong, and I hope that they are not intentionally misleading people. (I also hope that they informed the sponsor of the new mikraot gedolot that they intended to delete passages from Rashbam.[9])

Here is the text from Ibn Ezra.[10]

As you can see, Ibn Ezra responds very sharply to the interpretation mentioned by Rashbam. Although Rashbam is not mentioned by name, the standard view in traditional and scholarly circles is that Ibn Ezra was indeed directing his words at Rashbam and not at others who shared this perspective. This would explain his use of the words ולא תשא פני איש which would only be used with reference to an outstanding scholar.[11] David Kahana suggests that, as a sign of respect, Ibn Ezra does not mention Rashbam by name and he also does not curse the author of the explanation he is attacking.[12] He only curses the one who reads it aloud and the scribe who writes it. If Ibn Ezra was directing his comment against some heretic, we would expect him to curse this person, so the fact that he does not do so is quite significant and indeed points to Rashbam as the “addressee” of Ibn Ezra’s Iggeret ha-Shabbat.
Ibn Ezra never denies the authenticity of the interpretation he is responding to; he just attacks it. His attack on Rashbam’s view is just like Nahmanides’ attack on Maimonides’ view that the angels who came to Abraham were really just part of a prophetic vision. Nahmanides does not deny that Maimonides said this, but he does say that it is forbidden to accept what Maimonides says. It is the exact same thing here. Ibn Ezra is not denying that Rashbam offered the interpretation. He is simply saying that it is forbidden to accept this approach. (I should also add, since we are discussing a dispute between Ibn Ezra and Rashbam, that by any traditional measure Rashbam must be regarded as a more significant and authoritative figure than Ibn Ezra.)

ArtScroll also states that since Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis 1:14 contradicts what he says in the passages deleted by ArtScroll, this gives weight to their assumption that the other passages were not written by Rashbam but were instead inserted by some heretic. To begin with, since there are five[13] “problematic” comments and one “non-problematic” comment, perhaps it is the “non-problematic” comment to Genesis 1:14 that is to be regarded as inauthentic and should be removed. I say this only tongue and cheek, since ArtScroll should have realized two pretty basic things.
1. Rashbam often offers explanations, even in matters of halakhah, that are in line with the peshat of the text but diverge from the talmudic understanding. I understand that in some contemporary circles this would be regarded as heretical, since they assume that the meaning of the verse, especially in halakhic matters, can only be what the sages of the Talmud declare. Yet Rashbam had a different perspective, and he allowed for a peshat that diverges from what the Talmud states.
2. If you have contradictory explanations in the same chapter, the proper thing to do is to see if they can be reconciled before deciding that some of the comments are not authentic and can therefore be deleted. This was the approach of the great scholars of the last century who discussed Rashbam’s commentary. If ArtScroll had “uncompromising respect” for these figures, who devoted great time to understanding what Rashbam was saying, they would not have dared delete Rashbam’s comments, since by doing so they are in effect claiming that they know better than R. Hoffmann, R. Kamenetsky, and so many others.
Let me cite some other writers, including outstanding Torah scholars, who discussed Rashbam’s comments on when the day begins. In ArtScroll’s eyes this was all a big waste of time, since Rashbam never could have said what appears in his commentary. I guess we should all feel sorry for these Torah scholars that when they wrote they didn’t have ArtScroll around to set them straight. The more important question is why didn’t ArtScroll think that any of the explanations offered by these scholars were enough to save Rashbam’s comments from being deleted? (My own sense is that the individual who made the choice to censor Rashbam did not begin to understand the issue and was unaware of the sources referred to in this post.)
1. R. Menahem M. Kasher discusses Ibn Ezra’s attack on Rashbam and offers an explanation for Rashbam’s position, distinguishing between how the days were structured in the first six days of creation and what occurred afterwards.[14] R. Kasher also cites R. Pinhas Horowitz, Ha-Makneh to Kiddushin 37b, that before the giving of the Torah night came after day, and this can also be an explanation for Rashbam’s approach. In support of his assumption, R. Horowitz cites a verse not mentioned by Rashbam, Genesis 8:22:  ויום ולילה לא ישבתו. As you can see, in this verse night comes after day. (R. Horowitz repeats this explanation in his Panim Yafot to Genesis 8:22.) R. Moses Sofer cites this point from R. Horowitz and notes that even today it is only with regard to Jews that night precedes day, but for non-Jews the halakhah remains that day precedes night.[15]
R. Ezekiel Landau agrees with R. Horowitz that before the giving of the Torah the day did not start at night.[16] In support of this approach, R. Samuel Mirsky refers to Ugaritic literature which he regards as real evidence for Rashbam’s position.[17]
R. Moshe Malka also takes note of R. Horowitz’s position.[18]  Based on it he claims that
נחה שקטה תמיהתו של הראב”ע על הרשב”ם, כי הוא דבר על מעשה בראשית לפני מת”ת
R. Catriel David Kaplin also refers to R. Horowitz’ perspective and explains that Rashbam agrees with it.[19]
R. Kasher further cites R. Isaac Israeli (14th century) as agreeing with R. Horowitz. In his Yesod Olam[20] R. Israeli writes
וכן נהגו כל ישראל ממתן תורה ועד עתה להתחיל קדושת השבת ושאר ימי מקראי קודש מתחילת הלילה . . . ועל העיקר הנכון הזה יסדו לנו קדמונינו וקבעו בחשבון מולדות הלבנה ותקופת החמה.
R. Kasher calls attention to the words ממתן תורה ועד עתה and concludes that R Israeli is telling us that before the giving of the Torah the day began in the morning.
Finally, R. Kasher points to two separate rabbinic texts, one talmudic and one midrashic, that he feels can support Rashbam’s approach.
2. Da’at Mikra to Genesis 1:5 (p. 10 n. 168) explains that Rashbam’s understanding of when the day begins only refers to the six days of creation.
3. A different approach in explaining Rashbam is taken by R. Moshe Schwerd in a recent article in Or Yisrael.[21]
4. The Lubavitcher Rebbe refers to Rashbam’s explanation of when the day begins in order to illustrate how explanations in accord with peshat can contradict the accepted halakhah.[22]
5. R. Chaim Leib Zaks calls attention to the fact that two medieval authorities explain Genesis 1:5: ויהי ערב ויהי בקר, just as Rashbam did, that is, that day comes before night.[23] The first is the commentary attributed to Rashi, Ta’anit 11b, s.v. למחר.[24] The second is the commentary attributed to Rashi, Nazir 7a s.v. התם.[25]
6. R. Eliyahu Katz, who served as rav of Bratislava under the Communists and later as chief rabbi of Be’er Sheva, published a number of interesting books which appear to be completely unknown. In his Emor ve-Amarta[26] he states that R. Judah ha-Nasi might also have held that according to the peshat night comes after day, and that Rashbam might have based his explanation on R. Judah’s opinion. He also points out that Rashi, Genesis 1:14 writes
שמוש החמה חצי יום ושמוש הלבנה חציו הרי יום שלם
This is a strange formulation since Rashi appears to be agreeing with Rashbam that the day – שמוש החמה – comes before the night – שמוש הלבנה.
7. R. Jacob of Vienna, in his commentary to Genesis 1:5, writes[27]:
וא”ת אימא הלילה הולך אחר היום והכי קאמר ויהי ערב של יום הראשון ויהי בקר של יום שני אז נשלם יום שלם
In his note to this passage R. Zvi Rotberg understandably refers to Rashbam, as R. Jacob might indeed be alluding to him here.[28] The editor of R. Jacob’s volume, R. Menasheh Grossberg, refers to R. Pinhas Horowitz’s view mentioned above.
8. R. Shlomo Fisher, without question one of the top Torah scholars in the world, elaborates on the implication of Rashbam’s view that it is only through Torah she-Ba’al Peh, not the peshat of the verses, that we know that day comes after night.[29] A student of R. Fisher asked him about the censorship of Rashbam, and not surprisingly he expressed strong opposition to any such tampering with the writings of rishonim. He also told this student about a contemporary “scholar” who claims that Rashbam was influenced by evil people who caused him to go astray! Talk about chutzpah![30]
10. Michael Landy called my attention to the fact that Abarbanel cites the interpretation mentioned by Rashbam in the name of יש מהמפרשים.[31]
All of these sources that I have quoted, and believe me when I tell you that there are many more, are simply designed to show that the view of Rashbam expressed in his commentary to the first chapter of Genesis is part and parcel of Torah history and literature. Many of our great minds have discussed Rashbam’s view in a variety of contexts. Yet ArtScroll, on its own, has decided that it knows best and chose to remove the words of Rashbam from the public eye. They have no right or authority to do this. Their action is a betrayal of Rashbam and of those who want to study the writings of Rashbam. It is also an incredible display of disrespect to those great Torah scholars who have devoted time to the matter and explained the comments of Rashbam that ArtScroll prefers to view as heretical.
After all we have seen, let us return to the issue of Ibn Ezra’s attack on Rashbam and ask why it was so harsh. After all, what is so terrible about explaining the peshat of the Torah even if it diverges from the accepted halakhah, an approach that is found in numerous commentators?
The significance of the example we have been discussing is that there were indeed sectarians who observed Shabbat from Saturday morning until Sunday morning. Rashbam’s interpretation was thus dangerous as it could have had real world implications by giving support to the anti-halakhic behavior just mentioned.
In his commentary to Exodus 16:25 Ibn Ezra refers to “many people, lacking in faith” who erred in this matter and did not start Shabbat on Friday night. He tells us that they based their mistaken approach on Genesis 1:5: ויהי ערב ויהי בקר. In other words, they interpreted the verse in the same way that Rashbam did. Towards the end of Iggeret Shabbat, p. 171, he also mentions these “minim” who do not observe Shabbat beginning Friday night. It is thus easy to see why Ibn Ezra reacted so strongly and set out to uproot Rashbam’s interpretation.
Who were these sectarians Ibn Ezra refers to? Presumably the Mishawites, a group that we know started Shabbat on Saturday morning.[32] Benjamin of Tudela records meeting sectarians in Cyprus, again presumably Mishawites, who indeed observed the Shabbat in this fashion.[33]
In the last paragraph of the ArtScroll letter it states that from now on they will note that their text of Rashbam is the standard Vilna edition of 1898 with “emendations from the Rosin edition of 1882”. This is clearly obfuscation as we are not dealing here with any “emendations” suggested by Rosin. To repeat what the issue is: Rosin printed from manuscript Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis chapter 1. This section of the commentary does not appear in the standard Vilna edition. ArtScroll chose to include Rashbam’s commentary to Genesis chapter 1 in its recently published mikraot gedolot. However, ArtScroll also chose to delete those sections of the commentary it didn’t like, assuming (without any evidence) that these sections were written by heretics. This is censorship of  Rashbam. That is all people need to know.[34]
ArtScroll has done some great things. They have also done some pretty disappointing things. But as I said in the prior post, nothing comes close to this. Deleting comments of one of the greatest rishonim is simply outrageous. Some have said that what ArtScroll did is unforgivable. I think this is going too far. If ArtScroll acknowledges its error and reinserts that which has been removed, I think that we all would be very happy to put this behind us. One of the most important aspects of a Torah personality is the ability to recognize when one has made a mistake and rectify it. If ArtScroll is able to do this, it would lead to great admiration.

On the other hand, if ArtScroll refuses to acknowledge that it has made a terrible error, even after seeing the evidence presented in this post, then one must conclude that ArtScroll is knowingly suppressing the words of a great rishon. One can only hope that ArtScroll does not wish to have this blemish permanently attached to its name.

[1] ArtScroll and other publishers should pay close attention to the words of Rabbenu Tam, which I would have thought would be enough to scare off the censors. Sefer ha-Yashar, ed. Rosenthal (Berlin, 1898), p. 75:
ומגיהי חנם, בעיני דינם, למדורי גהינם
P. 105:
כי כאשר לא יודעים, העולם מטעים, וכאשר תוהים, הספרים מגיהים. ואתם הרעות מהם, כי הם כותבים ה”ג בהגהותיהם, ולכן ניכר מעבדיהם. ואתה לא כן, אך סותם הגהותיך וסומכים עליך וטועים . . . אין עצה ואין תבונה, רק להעמיד על האמת ולזרוק מרה במגיהי הספרים
Even if they are not scared of מדורי גהינם, one would have thought that they would have seen the wisdom of what Rabbenu Tam writes in the introduction to Sefer ha-Yashar, ed. Schlesinger (Jerusalem, 1985), p. 9:
והדין נותן אם לא ידע אדם הלכה יכתוב פתרונו לפי ראות עיניו אם ירצה אך בספרים אל ימחק שדברי תורה עניים במקומן ועשירים במקום אחר ואם דבר רק הוא ממנו הוא [רק]
                       
[2] Sefer Bereshit, trans. Asher Wasserteil (Bnei Brak, 1969), pp. 26-27. Hoffmann writes as follows:
כמו גם פרשנים חדשים רבים הוא [רשב”ם] סבר, שבימי מעשה בראשית נמנו הימים באופן שונה מדרך מנייתם לאחר מכן, בימי מתן תורה, כשם שגם תחילת השנה לפני מתן תורה שונה – לדעת ר’ אליעזר – מזו שלאחריו.
[3] Emet le-Yaakov (Cleveland Heights, 2007), p. 17.
[4] Umberto Cassuto, A Commentary on the Book of Genesis, trans. Israel Abrahams (Jerusalem, 1998), p. 28.
[5] As far as I know, the first one to assert that Rashbam’s comments are heretical interpolations was R. Yehudah Nachshoni, Hagut be-Farashiyot ha-Torah (Bnei Brak, 1981), vol. 1, p. 262, but this had no impact on the haredi world. Here is the page from Nachshoni.

He writes:
לדעתו יש לחשוש שמא חלו ידי קראים בדברי הרשב”ם
What this means is that Ibn Ezra thought that perhaps Rashbam’s metaphorical interpretation of the commandment of tefillin in Ex. 13:9 is a Karaite interpolation. This is complete nonsense as Ibn Ezra says nothing of the sort. I think, therefore, that there is a typo and the first word should read לדעתי. It is still nonsense but at least now the sentence is understandable. Following this, Nachshoni adds another absurdity, stating that Rashbam’s interpretation of when the day starts is also a Karaite interpolation. (Prof. Daniel Lasker has confirmed to me that all Karaites began the Sabbath on Friday night.)
Now comes the real irony. ArtScroll published a posthumous translation of Nachshoni’s book in 1988. Apparently ArtScroll was embarrassed by what Nachshoni wrote so ArtScroll censored it! Here is the English version, Studies in the Weekly Parashah, vol. 2, pp. 414-415.
In 1988 ArtScroll censored the writings of Nachshoni because he said that Rashbam’s comments were heretical interpolations, but in 2014 ArtScroll accepted this very position and instead censored Rashbam! Can it get any crazier than this?
As an aside, let me also note that I find it strange that ArtScroll does not give Nachshoni the title “Rabbi” on the title page of its translation of his book, even though he is referred to as such in the preface.
[6] It is possible that the haredi publishers who censored Rashbam did so purely for financial reasons. After putting a lot of money into their editions, a pashkevil directed against them, incited by some extremist, could be financially devastating. In the haredi world it is often enough to say that there is a “problem” with a book for people not to buy it. The masses won’t have a clue about the issue, but if there is a choice between two competing mikraot gedolots, they will feel safer buying the one which has not had any questions raised about it.
[7] (Kislev-Tevet 5760), p. 150.
[8] Ibid., pp. 151-155.
[9] I don’t have the newly published ArtScroll mikraot gedolot on Exodus (and will refuse to buy it until Rashbam’s commentary is fixed). I was curious if Rashbam on Ex. 13:9 appears in full or if it too was censored. Here Rashbam states that the commandment of tefillin in this verse: והיה לך לאות על ידך ולזכרון בין עיניך, is to be understood metaphorically. Ibn Ezra, in his commentary on Ex.13:9, harshly criticizes the metaphorical interpretation. A friend sent me a copy of this page of Rashbam and the commentary appears in full. I did notice, however, that in the following verse in Rashbam, Ex. 13:10, it reads חוקת הפסח with a dagesh in the kuf. This is a mistake, and in the next printing the dagesh should be removed.
If ArtScroll is looking for something to censor in the newly released volume, Or ha-Hayyim to Ex. 31:16 probably fits the bill. In this controversial passage Or ha-Hayyim states that we don’t violate Shabbat to save the life of someone who will not live until the next Shabbat. This contradicts an explict talmudic passage, Yoma 85a, that one violates Shabbat even for hayyei sha’ah. See R. Ovadiah Yosef, Hazon Ovadiah: Shabbat, vol. 3, pp. 296ff. R. Judah Aryeh Leib Alter, Sefat Emet: Likutim (New York, 1957), p. 77a (Ki Tisa), already suggested that an “erring student” wrote these words in Or ha-Hayyim.
[10] It appears in Kerem Hemed 4 (1839), pp. 160-161.       
[11] See Aharon Mondshine, “Li-She’elat ha-Yahas she-Bein Perusheihem shel R. Avraham Ibn Ezra ve-Rashbam la-Torah: Behinah Mehudeshet,” Teudah 16-17 (2010), p. 17.
[12]  Rabbi Avraham Ibn Ezra (Warsaw, 1894), vol. 1, part 2, p. 45 n. 4.
[13] In the previous post I noted four examples of ArtScroll’s censorship with regard to Rashbam’s peshat  understanding of when the day begins: Gen. 1:4, 5, 8, 31. I neglected to mention Rashbam’s commentary to Gen. 1:6 which is also censored by Artscroll. Regarding why Rashbam’s commentary to the first three parashiyot of Genesis were missing from the manuscript, see Itamar Kislev in Tarbiz 73 (2004), p. 229 n. 12.
[14] Torah Shelemah, vol. 10-11, pp. 276-279.
[15] Hiddushei Hatam Sofer to Shabbat 87a. R. Akiva Eger points out that R. Horowitz’s position leads to a very interesting conclusion. Here is the summary in R. Yaakov Moshe Shurkin’s commentary to Teshuvot Rabbi Akiva Eger (Lakewood, 2003), vol. 2, p. 769 (Pesakim, no. 121):
וכתב רבינו דלפי חידושו של הפנים יפות הנ”ל, דדין עכו”ם ששבת חייב מיתה הוא ביום ולילה שלאחריו, יש להמליץ זכות על אלו שבאו להתגייר ומרגילים את עצמם לשמור את השבת גם קודם שנתגיירו כנ”ל, די”ל שאינם עוברים בזה באיסור דעכו”ם ששבת, דסגי להו אם יעשו מלאכה במוצאי שבת, וכדברי הפנים יפות הנ”ל. ואין צריך למחות בשפחות הנ”ל מלשבות בשבת.
[16] Tziyun le-Nefesh Hayah to Pesahim 116b.
[17]  “Midot ha-Parshanut ha-Mikrait,” Sura 1 (1954), p. 396.
[18] Be’er Moshe (Lod, 1994), p. 14. He also questions R. Horowitz’s position by citing Mishnah, Hullin 5:5:
                  
מה יום אחד האמור במעשה בראשית היום הולך אחר הלילה
Rashbam could easily reply that the Mishnah is not speaking in terms of peshat. However, I am surprised that neither R. Horowitz nor R. Landau discuss this text which would appear to contradict their approach, as they assume that the Talmud agrees that before the giving of the Torah night came after day.
[19] Keter Nehora (Jerusalem, 2004), p. 114.
[20] (Berlin, 1848), vol. 1, p. 35 (2:17).
[21] “Hagdarat Zemanei ha-Yom ve-ha-Laylah al pi Halakhah u-Mahashavah” Or Yisrael (Nisan 5770), pp. 226ff.
[22] Sihot Kodesh (1967), part 2, sihah from 12 Tamuz 5727, p. 284.
[23] “Be-Inyan ha-me-Et le-Et shel Ma’aseh Bereshit,” Ha-Maor (Oct. 1957), pp. 4ff.
[24] This source was also noted by R. Abraham Elijah Kaplan. See Divrei Talmud (Jerusalem, 1958), vol. 1, p. 42 n. 97:
וזה מזכיר דברי רשב”ם שנלחם בם ראב”ע במחברתו אגרת השבת
[25] Kaplin, Keter Nehora, p. 115, also refers to this commentary to Nazir.
[26] (Be’er Sheva, 1994), vol. 1, pp. 26-27.
[27] Peshatim u-Ferushim (Mainz, 1888),  pp. 9-10
[28] Le-Misbar Kera’e (Bnei Brak, 2005),  p. 49.
[29] Derashot Beit Yishai (n.p., 2004), p. 48 n. 11.
[30] E-mail of this student to me.
[31] Commentary to Genesis, p. 33 in the standard edition.
[32] Regarding the Mishawites, see Zvi Ankori, Karaites in Byzantium (Jerusalem, 1968), pp. 372-416. Regarding whether the Dead Sea Sect started the Sabbath on Saturday morning, see Lawrence Schiffman, The Halakhah at Qumran (Leiden, 1975), pp. 84-85. See also Jacob Z. Lauterbach, Rabbinic Essays (Cincinnati, 1951), pp. 446ff.
[33] See The Itinerary of Benjamin of Tudela, ed. Adler (London, 1907), pp. 17-18 (Hebrew), p. 15 (English).
[34] Here is the page listing the texts used in preparation of the ArtScroll mikraot gedolot for the Book of Genesis.

There is no mention of the Mossad ha-Rav Kook editions, perhaps because of copyright concerns. But there is no doubt that in preparing its text of the mikraot gedolot, an important source for ArtScroll for the commentaries of Ibn Ezra, Ramban, Hizkuni, R. Bahya ben Asher, and Sforno were the Mossad ha-Rav Kook editions (and perhaps also Bar Ilan’s Mikraot Gedolot ha-Keter).
For instance, look at the description of Hizkuni. The page from ArtScroll states that its text is based on the first printing and the manuscript thought to be from the author. This is exactly what one finds in Chavel’s edition of Hizkuni published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook. Does anyone really think that ArtScroll compared, line by line, the first printed edition to the manuscript? This work was already done by Chavel. All ArtScroll had to do was use the text provided by Mossad ha-Rav Kook. So how come ArtScroll can’t tell us this, and instead puts on this charade?

ArtScroll does not mention consulting manuscripts with any of the other texts included in its mikraot gedolot, only with the ones already published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook. ArtScroll also says that its edition of Hizkuni is based on the first printing, Cremona 1559. Yet the first printing was in Venice 1524. ArtScroll simply repeated Chavel’s mistake. See Chavel’s introduction to his edition, p. 11.
The title Hizkuni (which I don’t italicize since it is now used as a personal name) comes from the author’s introductory poem to the work. Here is the relevant page from the Chavel edition and on line 7 you can see the word vocalized.

Louis Jacobs, Jewish Biblical Exegesis (New York, 1973), p. 69, claims that the word should be vocalized as Hazekuni, which is the piel plural imperative (“strengthen me”; dagesh in zayinsheva under zayin). R. Chaim Mordechai Brecher made the same point. See G. Kressel, ed., Ha-Ahim Shulsinger (Jerusalem, 1986), p. 119. I don’t see why this is preferable as Hizkuni is also correct, as the kal plural imperative, and the kal imperative is actually much more common in the Bible than the piel imperative. Furthermore, Hizkuni rhymes better with yizkeruni, the parallel word in the poem. Finally, look at the sentence in its entirety
ויקרא שמו בישראל חזקוני, למען קוראיו בשמו יזכרוני
This means that one who pronounces the title of the book, Hizkuni, will be reminded of the name of the author, Hizkiyah. This mnemonic only works if the title of the book has a hirik under the het, like in the author’s name. See A. Ben Ezra in Kressel, ed. Ha-Ahim Shulsinger, p. 119.
Here is the introductory poem from ArtScroll’s edition. The word חזקוני is missing a dagesh in the zayin which means that ArtScroll understood it as an imperative. (Chavel places a dagesh in the zayin, meaning that he understood it as  piel plural perfect.)

Look at the third line from the bottom on p. 8 where ArtScroll has
ומבואר [נ”א: ומכוער]
Anyone who understands Hebrew can see that ומבואר is incorrect (and this error also appears in the Venice 1524 edition). When ArtScroll prepared its mikraot gedolot it had Chavel’s edition in front of it. Chavel’s edition is based on what appears to be the manuscript of the author. In this manuscript (which ArtScroll claims to have consulted) one finds the reading ומכוער. So how come this is not the word that appears in the text published by ArtScroll? This is the original reading, not a נוסח אחר. (At best, ArtScroll could have put ומבואר in brackets, but why would this even be necessary in a non-critical edition?) If ArtScroll thinks that it is important to cite the Cremona reading, then how come immediately following this it doesn’t have כי מי ימצא בו דבר חכמה מפואר. As you can see, this is what appears in the Cremona text, and again, one who knows Hebrew will realize that it doesn’t make much sense.

In the manuscript, which is the basis of Chavel’s version, the text reads אשר ימצא בו דבר חכמה מפואר. This is what appears in ArtScroll, with no indication that there is an alternative text. So why did ArtScroll feel the need to add [נ”א: ומכוער] in the previous part of the sentence? Is this just a way of showing the reader that ArtScroll is “scientific” and has examined the different versions?
If you compare ArtScroll’s version of the introductory poem to that which appears in Chavel’s edition, which is based on the manuscript, you will find that other than the example just mentioned, ArtScroll relies entirely on the mistaken text from the Cremona edition instead of using the correct version from the manuscript. Just skimming through the commentary I found other examples where ArtScroll ignores the manuscript reading in favor of the Cremona edition. I don’t know why ArtScroll did this, but it again shows that ArtScroll’s new edition of mikraot gedolot was not properly edited. 

I also found what I think is a punctuation mistake in ArtScroll’s edition of the poem. See the page from Chavel printed above, the second column, second to last line: ובעיני א-להים יישר. Chavel punctuates יישר as a pual imperfect. ArtScroll punctuates it as a kal imperfect. Because of the rhyming, I think Chavel is correct.

The issue of how ArtScroll uses works of prior scholarship requires a more detailed study than I can provide here. I would, however, like to point to one problematic aspect. Let us look briefly at ArtScroll’s Five Megillos, the earliest ArtScroll publication. ArtScroll is very proud of the fact that it only uses traditional rabbinic sources. On the first page of the commentary to each of the five megillot, we are informed that all material in square brackets is a comment from the author, which we are to assume is an original insight.
Here is ArtScroll’s commentary to Ruth 4:10.

Now read what appears in the Soncino commentary to Ruth 4:10.

ArtScroll’s entire comment is lifted from Soncino. Quite apart from the plagiarism, I find it troubling that ArtScroll feels that Soncino is good enough to be used, just not good enough to be mentioned by name. (When ArtScroll changed some of Soncino’s wording, a mistake crept in. Soncino has “sacred duty of building a home.” ArtScroll intended to change this to “sacred task of building a home,” but instead of “task” it reads “text”.)
After David Farkas called this example to my attention, it did not take me long to find other examples, of which I offer two. Here is Soncino’s commentary to Ruth 4:1.

Now look at ArtScroll on this same verse.

It is obvious that Soncino is the basis for what is found in ArtScroll. (Note the words “fairly large edifice” in both Soncino and ArtScroll.) 
Here is Soncino’s commentary to Esther 2:20.

Now look at ArtScroll on this same verse

Again, it is obvious that Soncino is the basis for what is found in ArtScroll. (Note the words “filial piety” in both Soncino and ArtScroll.)



The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature (Revisited)

The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature: A Historical-Culinary Survey Revisited*
By Eliezer Brodt

I. Introduction

As Jews, most of our holidays have special foods specific to them; and behind each culinary custom, lays enveiled the reasoning behind them. Shavuot brings with it a vast array of customary dairy delicacies – in some parts of the world, cheesecake is practically obligatory – not to mention different customs in regard to how and when to eat them. Rosh Hashanah in renowned for the different fruits and vegetables eaten as physical embodiments symbolizing our tefillot; Chanukah has fried foods (no trans-fats please); whether latkes sizzling in the frying pan, or the elusive Israeli sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) seen for a month before but not to be found a minute after Chanukah’s departure, and on the fifteenth of Shevat a veritable plethora of fruits are sampled in an almost ‘Pesach Seder’-like ceremony. Of course, on Purim we eat hamentashen.

Hamentashen. Those calorie-inflated, Atkins-defying, doughy tri-cornered confections filled with almost anything bake-able. The Mishpacha reports that this year in Israel alone, an astounding 24.5 million hamentashen will be sold, weighing 1225 tons, and yielding an approximate 33 million NIS in sales.[1] The question that many will be asking themselves is “where did this minhag to eat hamentashen come from?”

Recently I started researching this topic; thus far (and I hope to find more) my results are as follows.

II. Origins

The earliest source I have located so far can be found in the first Jewish comedy called Ztachus Bedechusa Dekidushin. This play was written in Hebrew by Yehudah Sommo (1527- 1592) from Italy. He was a friend of R. Azariah Men Hadomim and is even quoted in the Meor Eynamim (at the end of chapter eighteen). This comedy was written for Purim as he writes in the introduction:

הוא ספר חדש מדבר צחות אשר בדה מלבו פ’ בימי בחרותו לצחק בו בימי הפורים ובשעת חדוה

In one of the scenes the following conversation take place:

יאיר: אם בדברים כאלה אכפרה פניו, כבר יש לי קושיא אחת אשר ייעפו כל תוספי התורה להתירה, כי הנה כתוב במגלת פורים “ויתלו את המן” ובפרשת בלק נכתב בפירוש “ויאכלו בני ישראל את המן”. ואיך יאכלו היהודים הנשמרים מכל רע את נבלת התלוי ההוא ואל הכלב לא ישליכו אותה?

יקטן: גם זה ראיתי אני וכבר תרץ הקושיא הזאת רב בלעם בן בבי בשם אביו: כי מה שאמרה התורה “ויאכלו את המן” היא אזהרה וציווי לנו שנאכל בימי הפורים האלה מאזני המן – הן המה הרקייקם הנעשים בסולת בלולה בשמן, וזהו שאמר אחרי כן “וטעמו כצפיחית בדבש”.

יאיר: יפה פירוש בן ביבי זכור לטוב!

Professor Schirman who printed this play from manuscript notes that רב בלעם בן בבי is the name of one of the characters in the Massekhet Purim of R. Kalonymus ben Kalonymus. [2] In connection with Yehudah Sommo’s play, it is possible to understand an engmatic statement in the Tishbi. Specifically, R. Elijah Bocher writes:

ערך “מנלן”- מנלן להמן מן התורה שנאמר ויאכלך את המן, גם זו מלה מורכבת מן ב’ מלות אן ולן
R. Yeshaya Pick in his notes on the Tishbi asks, the Gemarah in Chulin which asks this same question has a different source for Haman min Hatorah where does the Tishbi get this Chazal from? He suggests that maybe he had different chazal which we do not have. However in the new edition of Tishbi they printed notes of R. Mazauz who suggests that it is highly probable that there was no such Chazal rather the Tishbi was referring to the famous lezunuot about eating hamntashen. This suggestion is all the more probable after seeing the words of Yehudah Sommo in his play written a little after the Tishbi.[3]

The next source I have located is in the poetry of the brothers Yakov and Emanuel Pranosish (1618- 1703) in one piece [4] they write:

אמנם נזרק העט ונקצר ענינים,

כי יום פורים זה בא, נכין לו מעדנים,

נכין מרקחות ממתקים מכל מינים,

נגדיל אזני המן מאזני השפנים,

Ben-Yehudah, in his dictionary also cites to a manuscript excerpt of a Purim comedy penned by R. Yehudah Aryeh de Modena, where he is supposed to mention this food Hamantashen.[5]
Mention can also be found in some liturgical parodies [6] from the seventeenth-century, where it includes references to eating hamentashen:

שתו אכלו אזני המן

Thus, from the above, it seems that the original word was aznei Haman the name Hamantashen only came later.

In an 1846 cook book called The Jewish Manual by Lady Judith Cohen Montefiore we find a recipe for “Haman fritters.”[7] R. Barukh ha-Levi Epstein, in his Mekor Barukh, relates the following interesting anecdote which highlights the importance his grandfather placed on eating hamentashen:

One year in the beginning of the month of Adar he [my grandfather] noticed that the bakeries were not selling hamentashen. When he inquired as to why this was so, he discovered that there was a shortage of flour. He promptly went ahead and gave the biggest bakers in the city a large sum of money to enable them to buy flour to bake hamantsashen.[8]

In a nineteenth-century Lithuanian memoir again the import of hamentashen is apparent. The author recalls that “my sister spent the day preparing the baked delicacies of Purim. Most important were the hamentashen.”[9] R. Michael Braver in his excellent memoir of Galicia written in the mid 1800’s also describes the sending of Hamantashen on Purim. [10] A. S. Sachs in his memories on shtetl life notes that his “grandma would add a Haman-tash for the kiddies” in the meshloach manot.[11] Chaim Hamburger also mentions the baking of Hamantashen on purim in his memoirs. [12]. Professor Simha Assaf, in an article describing Purim, also writes that people made special foods called hamentashen.[13] Shmarya Levin recollects in his autobiography with great detail the hamentashen:

The much-loved little cakes, stuffed with nuts and poppy seed, which are called ‘Haman’s ears’ – sometimes ‘Haman’s pockets’ – had been prepared for us in vast numbers. Their shape alone was a joy. They were neither round, like rolls, nor long, like the loaf; with their triangular shape they were like nothing else that we ate during the year. The stuffing was made of poppy-seeds fried in honey, but there was not enough of it, so we used to eat the cake cagily, in such wise that with every mouthful we got at least a nibble of honeyed poppy seed.[14]

Similarly, David Zagier in his memoirs of Botchki writes about his childhood there: We commemorated Purim . . . Lesser Miracles came in the wake of the Purim miracle . . . the invention of Hamentashen, the best cakes one could dream of, all poppy seed and honey (p. 69).[15] We also find hamentashen being eaten in Amsterdam[16] and Jews from Bucharia, as well, make אזני המן, similar to hamentashen. [17] לאה אזני המן מנין is a comedy listed in Avraham Yari’s bibliographical listing of comedies.[18]

III. Other possible early origins for Hamentashen

As we can see, the custom of eating hamentashen is widespread and common from at least the 16th century. In fact, R. Shmuel Ashkenazi pointed to some sources which may demonstrate that hamentashen were eaten even earlier. Ben Yehuda in his dictionary claims that as early as the time of the Abarbanel (1437-1508), hamentashen were consumed. The Abarbanel, discussing the food which fell from heaven, the mon, describes these cakes as:[19]

וצפיחית הוא מאכל הקמח מבושל בשמן כצורת צפחת המים הנאכל בדבש והוא כמו הרקיקים העושים מן הבצק כדמות אזנים מבושלות בשמן ויטבלו אותם בדבש ויקראוהו אזנים

This sounds like our hamentashen although there is no reference to eating them on Purim. But R. Ashkenazi pointed out to me that if this is the source, you might then be able to suggest that hamentashen was already eaten much earlier, as this piece of the Abarbanel is word for word taken from R Yosef ibn Kaspi who lived several hundred years earlier (Kaspi was born in 1298 and died in 1340)!

Another possible early source for our Hamentashen could perhaps be found thru the words of Emanuel Haromi. In Machbres Emanuel [20] he writes:

מה אומר המן? לכל זמן

וזרש? לא תקלל חרש!

And then again:

ואם אמר: ארור המן וזרש! ישיבון: אל תקלל, דוד, לחרש!

Dov Yardan when he was preparing his excellent critical edition of Machbres Emanuel composed a list of statements of Emanuel that Yardan was unable to locate sources for. One of these was this line regarding Haman’s deafness. Yaran suggests that this maybe this has to do with why we eat aznei Haman! And maybe that is also tied to the banging and using of gragers when we say Haman name. [21] Interestingly Dov Sadan also writes in his youth he used to hear that Haman was deaf.

So to conclude it seems from all this that the original word was aznei Haman the name Hamantashen only came later and earliest origins are from Italy. [22]

IV. Ta’am ha-Hamentashen

Irrespective when the custom of eating hamentashen began, the question we need to now explore is why hamentashen, what connection do hamentashen have with Purim?

Hayyim Schauss explains that in actuality the origins of the hamentashen are not Jewish, rather, we originally appropriated them from another culture. He explains that “the hamentashen are also of German origin. Originally they were called mohn-tashen, mohn meaning poppy seed and tashen meaning pockets and also signified dough that is filled with other food stuffs. The people therefore related the cake to the book of Esther and changed the mahn to Haman [due to its similarity]. In time the interpretation arose that the three cornered cakes are eaten because Haman wore a three cornered hat when he became prime minister to Ahasuerus. The three corners were also interpreted as a symbolic sign of the three patriarchs whose merit aided the Jews against Haman.”[23]

Another reason offered for eating hamentashen also deals with the meaning (more correctly a pun) of the word – hamentashen, because Haman wanted to kill us out and Hashem weakened him, preventing him from doing evil to us. Thus, the treat is called המן תש (Hamen became weakened). Eating these pastries is representative of our faith that the same result will befall all our antagonists.[24]

The next reason offered by Menucha u-Kedusha has to do with the pastry itself, more specifically, how the filling is hidden. Until the events which occurred on Purim, the Jews were accustomed to open miracles like those in their battle with Sisra, whereas the Purim miracle appeared to be through natural events – only Mordechai knew that this was a miracle. To remember this, we eat pastries that the main part – the filling – is hidden in the dough, similar to the miracle which was hidden in nature. The filling chosen was specifically zeronim (seeds – poppy seed – mahn) to remind us of Daniel having eaten only seeds (and not non-kosher food) while in captivity at Nevuchadnezar’s court. Furthermore, according to this source the triangular shape also has meaning. The Talmud (Megillah 19b) records a three way argument from where to start reading the megillah. As the halakhah is to follow all three opinions and start from the beginning, we cut the pastries in triangular shape to symbolize our accordance to all three opinions. Another reason mentioned in Menucha u-Kedusha for the filling is based on the writings of R. Moshe Alsheikh, who states the Jews did not really think they were going to get completely wiped out until Mordechai finally convinced them so. The possibility arises that Mordechai was afraid to keep on sending out letters, so pastries were baked and the letters hidden therein. These pastry-letters saved the Jews; in turn we eat filled pastries. This reason is a bit interesting for itself, but what is even more interesting is that he never calls the pastries hamentashen.[25] A possibility might be kreplach, meat filled pockets boiled in soup, but the theory is unlikely as kreplach are not something special eaten exclusively for Purim – we eat it other times such as Erev Yom Kippur and Hoshana Rabah.

R. Yaakov Kamenetsky offers yet another reason for eating hamentashen on Purim. As we eat the hamentashen and eating is a form of destroying the item being eaten. Therefore, in eating hamentashen, we are fulfilling the commandment (figuratively) of destroying Amalek we are eating Hamen.[26]

Yom Tov Lewinsky and Professor Dov New both suggest that the reason for eating the hamentashen is because the custom in the Middle Ages was to cut off the ears of someone who was supposed to be hung,[27] to remember that we eat pastries from which a part had been cut off. Another point mentioned both by these authors is an opinion that the filling in the pastries [this is specific to poppy seeds] is in remembrance to the 10,000 silver coins that Haman offered to contribute to Achashverosh’s coffers.[28]

Aside from the general merrymaking on Purim, there is also a long tradition of written fun. Specifically, since the famous Massekhet Purim of R. Kalonymus ben Kalonymus (1286-1328), there have been many versions of these type of comedies written throughout the ages. One such was R. Avraham Mor, Kol Bo LePurim (Lemberg, 1855), which is a complete sefer all about Purim written to be humorous. Included therein is a question regarding changing the way hamentashen should be made from a triangle to make them square shape! He answered that it would be terrible to make hamentashen square. If the hamentashen are square they would have four corners which in turn would obligate the attachment of tzitzet like any clothes of four corners.[29]

One last interesting point in regard to hamentashen can be found within Prof. Elliott Horowitz’s recent book-length discussion related to Purim[30] where he notes that as recent as 2002, a Saudi ‘scholar’ Umayna Ahamad al Jalahma claimed that Muslim blood can be used for the three cornered hamentashen.[31] Horowitz also notes that in middle of the Damascus affair in 1840, a work from 1803 was discovered which claimed that Christian blood was used in the ingredients for Purim pastries.[32] Again in 1846, Horowitz writes that “on the holiday of Purim it was claimed the Jews would annually perform a homicide in hateful memory of Haman, and if they managed to kill a Christian the Rabbi would bake the latter’s blood in triangular pastries which he would send as mishloach manot to his Christian friend.”[33] In 1938 the Jews were once again accused of murdering an adult Christian and drying his blood to be mixed into the triangular cakes eaten on Purim.[34]

Thanks to Rabbis Y. Tessler, A. Loketch and Yosaif M. Dubovick, and the two anonymous readers, for their help in locating some of the sources.

* This article has been heavily updated from last year’s version with many important additions and corrections.

Notes
[1] Mishpacha (27 Shevat 5767), 30.
[2] This play was printed for the first time from manuscript by C. Shirman in a critical edition in 1946 and than reissued by him with additions in 1965. This piece with the quote of aznei Haman can be found in the second edition on page 67. This particular passage was also reprinted by Shirman in his Letoldos Hashira vHadrama Haivrit, 2, pg 52-53. Shirman includes a nice introduction and background on Yehudah Sommo printed in both these places.

This play is the first known play performed for Purim. From this time period and onwards we have a very rich literature of plays and musicals. They were performed especially on Purim but on other occasions such as Simchas Torah and weddings (Shirman, Ibid, pp. 63-67; 80 -85). To be sure these plays were also met with opposition most notable by R. Samuel Abhuv [See, Shu”t Davar Shmuel, siman daled and Shirman, ibid pg 47, 56]. This is the one and the same that was against Meschtas Purim and cross dressing. However, it could be there was not so much out rage against it as the Rabonim felt it was a lost battle or the lesser of two evils to go to ones of Gentiles. Of the many play writers some were very famous gedolim most notable the author of Ikrei Dinim, R. Moshe Zechuto and the Ramchal. This whole topic has been dealt with very much in depth by C. Shirman in his Letoldos Hashira VHadrama Haivrit, 2, pgs 44-94. On the Ramchal see: Shirman, ibid, pg 84-85 and 161-175.

This era in Italy was followed by a long period of Yiddish plays many of which were collected by C. Shmirk. Until today in many circles especially yeshivas plays are performed on Purim. In Europe some of the plays were performed by the bochrim to raise money for themselves. In many memoirs we have accounts of how much the masses enjoyed these plays. Just to list a few of the very many sources on this topic. See the accounts in Pauline Wengeroff, Rememberings: The World of a Russian-Jewish Woman in the Nineteenth Century pp. 31- 32; A. S. Sachs, Worlds That Passed, pp. 232-234 ; Zechronot Av Ubeno, p. 356.

On purim plays in general much has been written see: Israel Abrahams, Jewish life in the Middle Ages, pgs 260- 272; H. Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648-1806), pp. 184- 190 and 332-335; Sperber, Minhagei Yisroel,6, p. 201 who writes this was from outside influences; M. Breuer, Ohele Torah, pp. 418-419; E. Horowitz, Reckless Rites, pp. 84-87;
[3] New edition of Tishbi p. 162.
[4] Printed in Kol Shirei Yakov Pronsish p. 363. On these brothers see the Introduction printed in this edition. See also: C. Shirman, Letoldos Hashira vHadrama Haivrit, 2, pp. 57, 138.
[5] Though I was unable to pin-point the comedy, it might be the one called La Reina Esther; see Mark R. Cohen, The Autobiography of a Seventeenth-Century Venetian Rabbi: Leon Modena’s Life of Judah (Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 235. This play was written in Italian and is extremely rare. Recently Marina Arbib wrote an excellent article called ‘The Queen Esther Triangle: Leon Modena, Ansaldo Ceba and Sara Copio Sullam’, printed in the book Aryeh Yeshag pp. 103-135. See also C. Schirman, Letoldos Hashira vHadrama Haivrit, 2, p. 55.
[6] Israel Davidson, Parody in Jewish Literature (New York, 1907), p. 193.
[7] Lady Judith Cohen Montefiore, The Jewish Manual (London, 1846)
[8] R. Barukh ha-Levi Epstein, Mekor Barukh (vol 1, p. 974)
[9] Pauline Wengeroff, Rememberings: The World of a Russian-Jewish Woman in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Bernard Dov Cooperman, trans. Henny Wenkart (University Press of Maryland, 2000), p. 29.
[10] Zechronot Av Ubeno, p. 24.
[11] A. S. Sachs, Worlds That Passed (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1928), p. 229.
[12] Shlosha Olmos, 3, p. 22.
[13] Simha Assaf, Sefer Hamoadim, p. 29.
[14] Forward from Exile: The Autobiography of Shmarya Levin, ed. and trans. Maurice Samuel (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1967).
[15] Botchki, p. 69.
[16] Minhagei Amsterdam p. 149 # 12
[17] Yalkut ha-Minhagim, pg. 210
[18] Hamachazeh Ha-Ivri, p. 76 n.654.
[19] Parashat Beshalach, end of chap. 16; [This source is also quoted in the Otzar ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit, however the editors simply describe it as a “phrase from the Middle Ages” (vol 1 p. 59).] When I first wrote this suggestion from R. Askenazi, R. M. Honig pointed out to me that it is more likely that they were referring to Sufganyuos as it is evident from the words of Rav Mamion the father of the Rambam where he says:

אין להקל בשום מנהג ואפילו מנהג קל. ויתחייב כל נכון לו עשית משתה ושמחה ומאכל לפרסם הנס שעשה השם יתברך עמנו באותם הימים. ופשט המנהג לעשות סופגנין, בערבי אלספינג, והם הצפחיות בדבש ובתרגום האיסקריטין הוא מנהג הקדמונים משום שהם קלויים בשמן לזכר ברכתו (כלומר לנס שבפך שמן)

(See my earlier post on this). This could be further supported with the words of Emanuel Haromi in Machbres Emanuel where he writes (p. 168):

בכסליו… ואחרת תבשל הרקיקים, וצפחית ומעשה החבתים.
This could be another early source for Sufganyuos. However in light of these words of Yehudah Sommo where he says:

לנו שנאכל בימי הפורים האלה מאזני המן – הן המה הרקייקם הנעשים בסולת בלולה בשמן, וזהו שאמר אחרי כן “וטעמו כצפיחית בדבש”.
So it could very well be that the Abarbanel and Kaspi were referring to Hamantashen.
[20] Machbres Emanuel pp. 109, 169. According to this that the possible source for eating aznei Haman comes from Emanuel Haromi! It is not clear if he had a source from Chazal for this statement that Haman was deaf as much of what he says is based on Chazal. However there is a good chance that this was just a joke of his. This would not be the first time that a joke of his became accepted in our regular literature. R. Askenazi pointed out to me one such example in the Tur Al Hatoroah, Bresheis (pg 7) where he writes as follows:

ויאמר האדם האשה אשר נתתה עמדי הוא נתנה לי מן העץ ואכל. לפי הפשט שהכתני בעץ עד כי שמעתי לדבריה.
The source for this is really Emmanuel Haromi (pg 400) where he writes:

ויגש העשרי ויאמר: אמר נא, פלא יועץ מה רצה הכתוב באמרו היא נתנה לי מן העץ והיה לו לומר מפרי העץ, לפי הנראה ועתה אמר נא, בחסדך מה פרוש בו אתה רואה? ואען ואמר: חייך, ידידות נפשי! פרוש הפסוק הוא: היא נתנה לי מן העץ על ראשי ודכאה לארץ חיתי עד שאכלתי על כרחי, שלא בטובתי.

R. Askenazi noted that this pirish which was meant as a joke was accepted by many besides for the Tur amongst them the Moshav Zekanim R. Yakov Meveinia.
[21] Yedah Haam, 3, p. 70.
[22] See the excellent article of Dov Saden printed in his work Shay Olomos (pp. 25-38) on the development of this word hamantashen, based on an incredible wide range of sources. This piece helped me find some of the rather unknown sources. See also Yehudah Avidah in his work on Yiddish Foods ‘Yideishe macholim’ pp. 46-49. See also Dov New, Machanaim (# 43) and the recent issue of the Kulmos (#60) p. 17.
[23] Hayyim Schauss, The Jewish Festivals (Random House, 1938; Hebrew, 1933), p. 270. The source for the first reason can be found in Judah David Eisenstein, Otzar Dinim u-Minhagim (New York, 1917), p. 336, and for the last reason in Yitzhak Lifshitz, Sefer Ma’atamim (Warsaw, 1889), p. 86.
[24] Avraham Eliezer Hershkowitz, Otzar Kol Minhaghei Yeshrun (St. Louis, 1918), p. 131. See also R. Cohen in his book Puirm VChodesh Adar, pp. 116-117 and R. Kamile, Shar Reveun, p. 206.
[25] R. Yisrael Isserl of Ponevezh Sefer Menucha u-Kedusha (Vilna, 1864), pp. 271-72.
[26] Yaakov Michoel Jacobs, Bemechitzas Rabbeinu: Hagaon Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky, zt”l (Feldheim, 2005), p. 142.
[27] Yom Tov Lewinsky, Sefer Hamoadim (pp. 153-154); Dov New, Machanaim # 43. New quotes a piece from Yashar which I have been unable to locate on this topic if any one knows its location please be so kind as to let me know. This source is also quoted by Ben Yehuda in his dictionary under the entry aznei.
[28] Ibid.
[29] R. Avraham Mor, Kol Bo LePurim (Lemberg, 1855), pg. 6. See Israel Davidson, ibid. pg 234-235, #191.
[30] Elliott Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence (Princeton University Press, 2006)
[31] Ibid, p. 9.
[32] Ibid, p. 218.
[33] Ibid, p. 219.
[34] Ibid, p. 228.



Eliezer Brodt – The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature

The Origins of Hamentashen in Jewish Literature:
A Historical-Culinary Survey
By Eliezer Brodt

I. Introduction

As Jews, most of our holidays have special foods specific to them; and behind each culinary custom, lays enveiled the reasoning behind them. Shavuot brings with it a vast array of customary dairy delicacies – in some parts of the world, cheesecake is practically obligatory – not to mention different customs in regard to how and when to eat them. Rosh Hashanah in renowned for the different fruits and vegetables eaten as physical embodiments symbolizing our tefillot; Chanukah has fried foods (no trans-fats please); whether latkes sizzling in the frying pan, or the elusive Israeli sufganiyot (jelly doughnuts) seen for a month before but not to be found a minute after Chanukah’s departure, and on the fifteenth of Shevat a veritable plethora of fruits are sampled in an almost ‘Pesach Seder’-like ceremony. Of course, on Purim we eat hamentashen.

Hamentashen. Those calorie-inflated, Atkins-defying, doughy tri-cornered confections filled with almost anything bake-able. The Mishpacha reports that this year in Israel alone, an astounding 24.5 million hamentashen will be sold, weighing 1225 tons, and yielding an approximate 33 million NIS in sales.[1] The question that many will be asking themselves is “where did this minhag to eat hamentashen come from?”

Recently I started researching this topic; thus far (and I hope to find more) my results are as follows.

II. Origins

The earliest source I have located so far is in a liturgical parody from the seventeenth century, where it includes a reference to eating hamentashen.[2] In an 1846 cook book called The Jewish Manual by Lady Judith Cohen Montefiore we find a recipe for “Haman fritters.”[3]

R. Barukh ha-Levi Epstein, in his Mekor Barukh, relates the following interesting anecdote which highlights the importance his grandfather placed on eating hamentashen:

One year in the beginning of the month of Adar he [my grandfather] noticed that the bakeries were not selling hamentashen. When he inquired as to why this was so, he discovered that there was a shortage of flour. He promptly went ahead and gave the biggest bakers in the city a large sum of money to enable them to buy flour to bake hamantsashen.[4]

In a Nineteenth Century Lithuanian memoir again the import of hamentashen is apparent. The author recalls that “my sister spent the day preparing the baked delicacies of Purim. Most important were the hamentashen.”[5] A. S. Sachs in his memories on shtetl life notes that his “grandma would add a Haman-tash for the kiddies” in the meshloach manot.[6] Professor Simha Assaf, in an article describing Purim, also writes that people made special foods called hamentashen.[7] Shmarya Levin recollects in his autobiography with great detail the hamentashen:

The much-loved little cakes, stuffed with nuts and poppy seed, which are called ‘Haman’s ears’ – sometimes ‘Haman’s pockets’ – had been prepared for us in vast numbers. Their shape alone was a joy. They were neither round, like rolls, nor long, like the loaf; with their triangular shape they were like nothing else that we ate during the year. The stuffing was made of poppy-seeds fried in honey, but there was not enough of it, so we used to eat the cake cagily, in such wise that with every mouthful we got at least a nibble of honeyed poppy seed.[8]

We also find hamentashen being eaten in Amsterdam[9] and Jews from Bucharia, as well, make אזני המן, similar to hamentashen. [10] לאה אזני המן מנין is a comedy listed in Avraham Yari’s bibliographical listing of comedies.[11]

As we can see, the custom of eating hamentashen is widespread and common from at least the 17th century. In fact, R. Shmuel Ashkenazi pointed to some sources which may demonstrate that hamentashen were eaten even earlier. Ben Yehuda in his dictionary claims that as early as the time of the Abarbanel (1437-1508), hamentashen were consumed. The Abarbanel, discussing the food which fell from heaven, the Mon, describes these cakes as:[12]

וצפיחית הוא מאכל הקמח מבושל בשמן כצורת צפחת המים הנאכל בדבש והוא כמו הרקיקים העושים מן הבצק כדמות אזנים מבושלות בשמן ויטבלו אותם בדבש ויקראוהו אזנים

This sounds like our hamentashen although there is no reference to eating them on Purim. But R Ashkenazi pointed out to me that if this is the source, you might then be able to suggest that hamentashen was already eaten much earlier, as this piece of the Abarbanel is word for word taken from R Yosef ibn Kaspi who lived several hundred years earlier (Kaspi was born in 1298 and died in 1340)! Ben-Yehudah, in his dictionary also cites to a manuscript excerpt of a Purim comedy penned by R Yehudah Aryeh de Modena, where he writes יום שבו שלחן ערוך ומזומן בני ישראל הכו את המן יום שבו עשרת בניו תלו ואת תנוך אזניו אכלו and in the comments to this manuscript, it connects these foods to hamentashen.[13]

III. Ta’am ha-Hamentashen

Irrespective when the custom of eating hamentashen began, the question we need to now explore is why hamentashen, what connection do hamentashen have with Purim? Hayyim Schauss explains that in actuality the origins of the hamentashen are not Jewish, rather, we originally appropriated them from another culture. He explains that:

“the hamentashen are also of German origin. Originally they were called mohn-tashen, mohn meaning poppy seed and tashen meaning pockets and also signified dough that is filled with other food stuffs. The people therefore related the cake to the book of Esther and changed the mahn to Haman [due to its similarity]. In time the interpretation arose that the three cornered cakes are eaten because Haman wore a three cornered hat when he became prime minister to Ahasuerus. The three corners were also interpreted as a symbolic sign of the three patriarchs whose merit aided the Jews against Haman.”[14]

Another reason offered for eating hamentashen also deals with the meaning (more correctly a pun) of the word – hamentashen, because Haman wanted to kill us out and Hashem weakened him, preventing him from doing evil to us. Thus, the treat is called המן תש (Hamen became weakened). Eating these pastries is representative of our faith that the same result will befall all our antagonists.[15]

The next reason offered by Menucha u-Kedusha has to do with the pastry itself, more specifically, how the filling is hidden. Until the events which occurred on Purim, the Jews were accustomed to open miracles like those in their battle with Sisra, whereas the Purim miracle appeared to be through natural events – only Mordechai knew that this was a miracle. To remember this, we eat pastries that the main part – the filling – is hidden in the dough, similar to the miracle which was hidden in nature. The filling chosen was specifically zeronim (seeds – poppy seed – mahn) to remind us of Daniel having eaten only seeds (and not non-kosher food) while in captivity at Nevuchadnezar’s court. Furthermore, according to this source the triangular shape also has meaning. The Talmud (Megillah 19b) records a three way argument from where to start reading the megillah. As the halakhah is to follow all three opinions and start from the beginning, we cut the pastries in triangular shape to symbolize our accordance to all three opinions. Another reason mentioned in Menucha u-Kedusha for the filling is based on the writings of R. Moshe Alsheikh, who states the Jews did not really think they were going to get completely wiped out until Mordechai finally convinced them so. The possibility arises that Mordechai was afraid to keep on sending out letters, so pastries were baked and the letters hidden therein. These pastry-letters saved the Jews; in turn we eat filled pastries. This reason is a bit interesting for itself, but what is even more interesting is that he never calls the pastries hamentashen.[16] A possibility might be kreplach, meat filled pockets boiled in soup, but the theory is unlikely as kreplach are not something special eaten exclusively for Purim – we eat it other times such as Erev Yom Kippur and Hoshana Rabah.

R. Yaakov Kamenetsky offers yet another reason for eating hamentashen on Purim. As we eat the hamentashen and eating is a form of destroying the item being eaten. Therefore, in eating hamentashen, we are fulfilling the commandment (figuratively) of destroying Amalek we are eating Hamen.[17]

Yom Tov Lewinsky and Professor Dov New both suggest that the reason for eating the hamentashen is because the custom in the Middle Ages was to cut off the ears of someone who was supposed to be hung,[18] to remember that we eat pastries from which a part had been cut off. Another point mentioned both by these authors is an opinion that the filling in the pastries [this is specific to poppy seeds] is in remembrance to the 10,000 silver coins that Haman offered to contribute to Achashverosh’s coffers.[19]

Aside from the general merrymaking on Purim, there is also a long tradition of written fun. Specifically, since the famous Massekhet Purim of R. Kalonymus ben Kalonymus (1286-1328), there have been many versions of these type of comedies written throughout the ages. One such was R. Avraham Mor, Kol Bo LePurim (Lemberg, 1855), which is a complete sefer all about Purim written to be humorous. Included therein is a question regarding changing the way hamentashen should be made from a triangle to make them square shape! He answered that it would be terrible to make hamentashen square. If the hamentashen are square they would have four corners which in turn would obligate the attachment of tzitzet like any clothes of four corners.[20]

One last interesting point in regard to hamentashen can be found within Prof. Elliott Horowitz’s recent book-length discussion related to Purim[21] where he notes that as recent as 2002, a Saudi ‘scholar’ Umayna Ahamad al Jalahma claimed that Muslim blood can be used for the three cornered hamentashen.[22] Horowitz also notes that in middle of the Damascus affair in 1840, a work from 1803 was discovered which claimed that Christian blood was used in the ingredients for Purim pastries.[23] Again in 1846, Horowitz writes that “on the holiday of Purim it was claimed the Jews would annually perform a homicide in hateful memory of Haman, and if they managed to kill a Christian the Rabbi would bake the latter’s blood in triangular pastries which he would send as mishloach manot to his Christian friend.”[24] In 1938 the Jews were once again accused of murdering an adult Christian and drying his blood to be mixed into the triangular cakes eaten on Purim.[25]

Thanks to Rabbis Y. Tessler, A. Loketch and Yosaif M. Dubovick, and the two anonymous readers, for their help in locating some of the sources.

Sources:
[1] Mishpacha (27 Shevat 5767), 30.
[2] שתו אכלו אזני המן – Israel Davidson, Parody in Jewish Literature (New York, 1907), pg. 193; Davidson also suggests eating twenty-seven dishes on Purim (see p. 22).
[3] Lady Judith Cohen Montefiore, The Jewish Manual (London, 1846)
[4] R. Barukh ha-Levi Epstein, Mekor Barukh (vol 1, pg. 974)
[5] Pauline Wengeroff, Rememberings: The World of a Russian-Jewish Woman in the Nineteenth Century, ed. Bernard Dov Cooperman, trans. Henny Wenkart (University Press of Maryland, 2000), pg. 29.
[6] A. S. Sachs, Worlds That Passed (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1928), pg 229.
[7] Simha Assaf, Sefer Hamoadim, p. 29.
[8] Forward from Exile: The Autobiography of Shmarya Levin, ed. and trans. Maurice Samuel (Jewish Publication Society of America, 1967)
[9] Minhagei Amsterdam pg 149 # 12
[10] Yalkut ha-Minhagim, pg. 210
[11] Hamachazeh Ha-Ivri, p. 76 n.654.
[12] This source is also quoted in the Otzar ha-Lashon ha-Ivrit, however the editors simply describe it as a phrase from the Middle Ages (vol 1 pg 59).
[13] Parashat Beshalach, end of chap. 16; Though I was unable to pin-point the comedy, it might be the one called La Reina Esther; see Mark R. Cohen, The Autobiography of a Seventeenth-Century Venetian Rabbi: Leon Modena’s Life of Judah (Princeton University Press, 1988), p. 235.
[14] Hayyim Schauss, The Jewish Festivals (Random House, 1938; Hebrew, 1933), pg. 270. The source for the first reason can be found in Judah David Eisenstein, Otzar Dinim u-Minhagim (New York, 1917), p. 336, and for the last reason in Yitzhak Lifshitz, Sefer Ma’atamim (Warsaw, 1889), p. 86.
[15] Avraham Eliezer Hershkowitz, Otzar Kol Minhaghei Yeshrun (St. Louis, 1918), p. 131.
[16] R. Yisrael Isserl of Ponevezh writes in his Sefer Menucha u-Kedusha (Vilna, 1864), pg 271-272.
[17] Yaakov Michoel Jacobs, Bemechitzas Rabbeinu: Hagaon Rav Yaakov Kamenetzky, zt”l (Feldheim, 2005), p. 142.
[18] Yom Tov Lewinsky, Sefer Hamoadim (153-154); Dov New, Machanaim # 43; See also the forthcoming post at the Seforim blog about Hanging Haman.
[19] Ibid.
[20] R. Avraham Mor, Kol Bo LePurim (Lemberg, 1855), pg. 6.
[21] Elliott Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence (Princeton University Press, 2006)
[22] Ibid, pg. 9.
[23] Ibid, pg. 218.
[24] Ibid, pg. 219.
[25] Ibid, pg. 228.




Jews, Medicine and the University of Padua A Behind the Scenes Tour of a New Exhibit at the Jewish Museum of Padua November 2, 2022- December 31, 2022

Jews, Medicine and the University of Padua: A Behind the Scenes Tour of a New Exhibit at the Jewish Museum of Padua
November 2, 2022- December 31, 2022
By Rabbi Edward Reichman, MD

The city of Padua (or Padova), just twenty-five miles southwest of Venice, has a rich and expansive Jewish history, though it is not typically on the itinerary of the Jewish traveler to Italy. One might perhaps recognize the city name as the penultimate stop on the train from Florence to Venice. The likes of Rabbi Yehuda Minz (Mahari Minz- 15th century), Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen (Maharam Padua- 16th century), and Rabbi Moshe ayyim Luzzatto (Ramḥal- 18th century) all lived and taught there, as did many other great personalities in Jewish history.

One of the centerpieces of the city is the University of Padua, one of the oldest universities in the world, which is celebrating its 800th anniversary this year. To this day, it remains one of the premier universities in Europe. The Jewish history of this city is very much intertwined with the university. One remarkable connection between the two is geographical. As divine providence would have it, the Ghetto of Padua was established literally meters away from the university campus. A casual stroll from Palazza Bo, the iconic architectural center of the University of Padua, to the Ashkenazi Synagogue in the Ghetto, now home to the Jewish Museum in Padua, takes less than five minutes.

A new exhibit at the Jewish Museum of Padua, in collaboration with the University of Padua, explores the unique relationship between the university and the Jewish community in the pre-modern era, with particular focus on the medical training of Jewish students. The exhibit commemorates a key role the university played in Jewish medical history, beginning in the fifteenth century, as the first university to officially allow Jews to gain formal training in the field of medicine. Since the formation of the earliest universities,[1] Jews were officially barred by papal decree from attending, as the universities were by and large under the auspices of the Catholic Church. In the pages of this blog, we have drawn attention to the role the University of Padua played in Jewish medical education.[2] Most recently we focused on a rare genre of poems written in honor of Jewish medical graduates of this institution from the 16th-18th centuries.[3]

I am now delighted to inform you of a new exhibit at the Jewish Museum of Padua- Jews, Medicine and the University of Padua– which will run through December 31, 2022. The exhibit was inaugurated with an event on November 2, 2022. Introductions by representatives of the museum, the Jewish community of Padua and the University of Padua were followed by a recorded video address by Chief Rabbi Dr. Riccardo Di Segni of Rome, himself a prominent physician, on Judaism and medicine. The program concluded with my presentation about the training of Jewish medical students in Padua.[4]

The archival material occupies a large display case[5] and reflects three centuries of history through rare documents, including community and city archives, which have never been on public display. With the exception of the work of Vesalius, all the items are unica.

In addition, displayed throughout the exhibit hall are portraits of Jewish physicians from Padua from the Benvenesti Collection of the Museo d’Arte of Padua, and a slideshow of diplomas and congratulatory poems appears on the big screen.

Please join me for a behind the scenes virtual tour of some of the highlights of the exhibit.

I. Anatomy, Vesalius, and the Jewish Medical Students of Padua

Andreas Vesalius
De Humani Corporis Fabrica (1543)

Library of the University of Padua

On the lower left shelf of the case, we find an early edition of Andreas Vesalius’ De Humani Corporis Fabrica, open to the frontispiece. It is no exaggeration that the field of modern anatomy was born at the University of Padua under the vision of the famed professor of anatomy, Andreas Vesalius (1514–1564).[6] You may wonder why a copy of this volume, one of the most famous works in the history of medicine and anatomy, is part of an exhibit on Jewish medical history.

This monumental development in the history of medicine interfaced with the Jewish community of Padua in a number of ways. Much like this one anatomy book reveals the structures of the entire body, so too, this one book provides a window into a complex chapter of the experience of the Jewish medical student in Padua with respect to anatomy.

Hebrew Anatomical Terms

The anatomical terms detailed in the works of Vesalius – the Tabulae Anatomicae and De Humani Corporis Fabrica – are presented in multiple languages. One of those languages is Hebrew.[7] The reason for this is not specifically related to the Jewish medical students of Padua per se, but rather to the role the Jews played in the translation of medical works and the transmission of classical medical teaching from antiquity to the Middle Ages and Renaissance.[8]

Exactly who is responsible for the Hebrew translations in the Tabulae Anatomicae is unknown. Vesalius may have attended lectures on the Hebrew language by Joannes van Campen at the Pedagogium Trilingue in Louvain.[9] With the Hebrew terminology for the Fabrica, however, Vesalius duly acknowledges some assistance:

I have decided to give in the index principally a simple list of the names of the bones, first presenting those I use in the text; then the Greek; then, any others in Latin taken from authoritative writers, and all that in such way that it may have value. After these will follow the Hebrew, but also some Arabic, almost all taken from the Hebrew translation of Avicenna[10] through the efforts of Lazarus de Frigeis, a distinguished Jewish physician and close friend with whom I have been accustomed to translate Avicenna.[11]

The reference to Avicenna, the eleventh century Persian physician and polymath, refers to the Canon of Avicenna, one of the more influential medical works of that time. A magnificent, illustrated Hebrew manuscript translation of the Canon, which dates from the mid fifteenth century, is found in the University of Bologna,12] and the work was printed later in the fifteenth century. The Hebrew terminology in Vesalius, and its relationship to the Hebrew medical terminology of the Canon, has been studied by both historian and linguist alike.[13] Some have been less than complimentary.[14]

Vesalius credits Lazarus de Frigeis, “a distinguished Jewish physician and close friend,” with assisting him with the Hebrew translation in the Fabrica.[15] While some evidence has come to light about this friend, his exact identity still eludes scholars.[16] De Frigeis is believed to be depicted in the classic illustration on the frontispiece of the Fabrica, visible in the exhibit showcase, wearing characteristically Jewish garb.[17]

Vesalius and the Jewish Medical Students of Padua

Another relationship between Vesalius and the Jews[18] is inferred from his tenure as a lecturer at the University of Padua.[19] As Padua[20] was one of the only institutions of higher learning in the medieval and Renaissance periods to admit Jews,[21] Jews from across Europe flocked to attend.[22] These students however were not versed in either Italian or Latin, the academic language of discourse. They sometimes required translation for their studies. This is evidenced by the existence of a rare manuscript of the Fabrica in Yiddish dating from the late 1500s.[23]

One could imagine a group of German Jewish medical students sitting in the back of Vesalius’s lecture hall hunched over this very manuscript trying to keep pace with the day’s lesson.

Vesalius’s work also formalized and expanded the teaching of human anatomy at the University of Padua, as well as at medical schools throughout the world. The supply of cadavers was a perennial challenge for the medical school and each community which sent medical students for training at the university was required to provide bodies for the dissection table. This presented a unique problem for the Jewish students, as Jewish law forbids the dissection of the body after death. The Jewish medical students and Jewish community went to great lengths to gain exemption from this requirement. This is reflected in the Jewish community archives of this period.[24] There was also fear of grave robbing from the Jewish cemeteries.[25] Indeed, one scholar has suggested that one of the illustrated letters in the Fabrica depicts a scene of the grave robbing of a body from a Jewish cemetery.[26]

The “o” on the flag held by the putti was the symbol Jews were required to wear on their clothing.

In one case in 1676, a Jewish body was stolen before burial by medical students and brought to the anatomy table for dissection. Riots ensued and a compromise was ultimately reached. Isaac Cantarini wrote about this in his Paad Yitzak (1684). Roth recounts a case where disgruntled students kidnapped an etrog that was being transferred between communities on Sukkot and held it ransom in exchange for providing Jewish bodies for dissection.[27]

II. History of Degree Granting for Jewish Medical Students before 1615- Counts Palatine

Padua City Archives (1469-1470)
ASPd, Notarile, vol. 1946
Archivio di Stato di Padova

The oldest and rarest item of the exhibit (bottom left section- front) is a volume of the Padua city archives from the late 15th century. The pages on display document the medical degree-granting process for Jewish students during this period.

In the early centuries of the University of Padua Medical School, doctoral degrees were granted by the Sacred College of Philosophers and Physicians in a Catholic religious ceremony. As such, this pathway to a medical degree was not a viable option for a religious Jew. However, non-Catholics, including Jews, could obtain medical degrees through a different pathway outside of the university walls, granted by specific individuals known as Counts Palatine, who received their authority from the Holy Roman Emperor. These ceremonies were held privately before a notary and witnesses.[28]

On display is a remarkable archival record from February 21, 1469, reflecting this degree-granting process. The passage recounts that the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick III, while visiting Italy, bestowed upon Judah Messer Leon[29] a double doctorate in medicine and liberal arts, in addition to the title of Counts Palatine, granting him the right to confer doctorates upon other Jews of proven worthiness.

Judah Messer Leon was an accomplished physician, professor, and Torah scholar who later taught at the University of Padua Medical School. His work Nofet Tzufim (Abraham Conat: Mantua, 1475), known to this blog audience as the first Hebrew book to be printed in the lifetime of its author,[31]is a treatise on rhetoric, utilizing the classical literary devices of the ancient discipline of rhetoric applied to the Torah. One of the uses for this work was to prepare the Jewish students who matriculated from foreign countries to the medical schools in Italy. Indeed, Messer Leon is purported to have organized a yeshiva where students could receive a comprehensive Jewish education while training in the secular disciplines necessary for higher studies in the humanities, philosophy, and medicine.[31]

In the same archival record, we learn that it would be just one year later that Messer Leon would exercise his privilege as a Counts Palatine. In Padua, on 27 February 1470, Rabbi Dr. Judah Messer Leon bestowed a medical degree upon the Jew Yoanan Alemanno in a private ceremony at his home. Alemanno was a prominent Italian rabbi, philosopher and Kabbalist who also apparently taught Hebrew to the likes of Pico Mirandola. The nature of the ceremony was similar to the conventional Padua University procedure and included presenting the new doctor with a signed book, placing a gold ring on his finger, a wreath on his head, tying a red silk thread around his waist, and kissing him on the cheek.[32] However, while the invocation to the ceremony for the typical Christian student was “In Christi Nomini,” Messer Leon’s invocation for Alemanno was In Dei omnipotentis nomine amen” (in the name of the Omnipotent God, Amen).[33]

This was the precursor to the invocation which would be used for the formal diplomas of Jewish students in the following centuries, “In Dei Aeterni Nomine Amen.” Messer Leon exercised this extraordinary privilege a number of times during his lifetime.

Messer Leon was involved in a Jewish legal dispute regarding the permissibility of wearing academic robes. Issues relating to these robes included the obligation to wear tzitzit, as well as the concern that they might contain sha’atnez.[34]

In 1615, the Collegio Veneto was established to serve the purpose of granting degrees to non-Catholic students and essentially replaced the Counts Palatine. The diplomas on display in this exhibit are from the period of the Collegio Veneto.

III. Diplomas of Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua

Diplomas of Padua Jewish medical graduates are exceedingly scarce. While there have been a few sold at auction over the last few decades,[35] such diplomas are rarely displayed in public. I have thus far identified a total of nineteen extant diplomas of Jewish Padua medical graduates. Only three examples are found in Italy, and all of them are on display at this exhibit. An additional diploma was reproduced for display,[36] and images of others appear on the screen in the exhibit hall. Below I describe the diplomas on display, accompanied by a brief bio of their (original) bearers.

1) Medical Diploma of Moise di Pellegrino (Moshe ben Gershon) Tilche[37]
University of Padua- 1687
Gross Family Collection (Tel Aviv, Israel)

The invocation for the diploma for the typical Padua graduate was “In Christi Nomini.” For Jewish students, such as Tilche, the invocation was typically amended to “In Dei Aeterni Nomini.” Tilche is identified as “Hebreus” in the diploma, which was common for most Jewish students.

This is one of only a few Jewish medical diplomas from Padua that bear the graduate’s portrait, and the only such example displayed in this exhibit. Below the portrait are putti holding a laurel wreath, a book, a ring, and a hat.

This is a remarkable and unique depiction of the features of the Padua graduation ceremony. In addition to placing the wreath and hat on the graduate, a ring was placed on his finger, and books were symbolically opened and closed to represent the transmission of knowledge. This is similar to the ceremony described above performed by Messer Leon. This is the only known such illustration found on any Padua diploma.

The year is listed as “currente anno” instead of the typical term with Christian reference, such as Anno Domini, Anno a Christi Nativitate, or Anno Christiano.

Witnesses: The two witnesses for Tilche’s diploma were the Jewish physician, and graduate of Padua, Isaac Vita Cantarini (AKA Yitsḥak Ḥayyim Cantarini) and the Jew Samuele Pace. A branch of the Pace family was established in Padua by the 17th century. A member of the family, Solomon, received his medical degree from Padua in 1647.[38] Cantarini was a rabbi as well as a physician and was a prominent figure in the Padua Jewish community.[39] Cantarini was both the author and recipient of poems dedicated in honor of Padua medical graduates.

Moshe ben Gershon Tilche signed a letter published in the Jewish legal responsa of Sanson Morpurgo, another medical Padua graduate (1700),[41] about the custom of donning tefillin on ḥol ha-mo‘ed (intermediate days of the holiday).[41]

2) Medical Diploma of Samuele Coen[42]
University of Padua- 1702
University of Padua Archives Raccolta Diplomi, 33 (n. 3841)

There were sixteen medical graduates from the University of Padua from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries with the last name of Coen, though they were not all related. Samuele was part of the sphere of Rabbi Moshe ayyim Luzzatto (Ramal). It was a common custom for students’ mentors, fellow Padua students or alumni, or family members to compose congratulatory poems, mostly in Hebrew, to celebrate the student’s graduation. There are three students I have identified for whom we possess an extant copy of both a diploma and a congratulatory poem. Coen is one. Coen’s brother Moise, also a Padua medical alumnus (1675), composed a broadside poem in honor of Samuele’s graduation.[43]

Moise served as a witness for the graduation diploma of another Jewish student, Emanuel Colli, whose diploma is housed in the Magnes Collection in California.

In 1741, Coen’s daughter married another graduate of Padua’s medical school, Jacob ben Moses Alpron.[44] Rabbi Moshe ayyim Luzzatto (Ramal) wrote a poem in honor of Alpron’s graduation.

It was not uncommon for the typical Padua medical diploma to include an illustration of the family coat of arms for the graduate. Coen’s diploma is one of a few examples of coats of arms found in diplomas of Jewish students, and the only example in our exhibit. The coat of arms includes the symbol of the Kohen tribe, two hands in the formation used for the priestly blessing. Above the hands appears a crown, and below it appears a raven.

Samuel Coen was clearly a member of the kohen tribe, as were a number of Padua medical graduates including Tuviyah haKohen Rofeh and Isaac Cantarini, for example. Given the introduction of systematic anatomical dissection into the medical school curriculum in the 16th century, I have long wondered why there is no reference in the halakhic literature of this time to the issue of dissection for a Kohen, let alone for a Yisrael. The first references to dissection are in the late 1700s with the famous responsa of the Nodah biYehuda and Rav Yaakov Emden, though they contain no discussion about Kohanim. This is perhaps because the format of anatomy teaching involved the professor alone performing the dissection and teaching over the body. This is reflected in the design of anatomical theater of Padua. Students did not perform hands-on dissection; thus, the only potential issue would be tumat ohel, which at least according to some authorities is not generated by a non-Jewish corpse. However, as the original theater had a retractable roof to eliminate the foul odors during dissection, perhaps even tumat ohel may have been a non-issue.

Returning to the diploma, there are two sets of books on a table under the medallion, all of them labeled with the names of secular authors who were part of the standard curriculum at that time, including Plato, Aristotle, Hippocrates, Galen, and Avicenna.

I had hoped the name Maimonides might have appeared on the spine of one of the books.

Coen is identified as “Hebreus” in the diploma, which was the norm for Jewish students.

The year is listed as “currente anno” instead of the typical term with Christian reference, such as Anno Domini, Anno a Christi Nativitate, or Anno Christiano.

3) Medical Diploma of Moise Valle[45]
University of Padua – 1713
Biblioteca Statale del Monumento Nazionale di Praglia, Fondo Ebraico, 156

Moshe David Valle (1697-1777), one of the more well-known graduates of Padua, was an Italian Rabbi, physician, and kabbalist. He lectured for the Padua confraternity Mevakshei HaShem (seekers of God). He was a prolific author and teacher, as well as student, of Rabbi Moshe Ḥayyim Luzzatto (known as Ramḥal). He authored commentaries on the Torah and Prophets as well as works on Kabbalah.[46]  He is responsible for disseminating the teachings of Ramḥal. Ephraim Luzzatto, physician, poet and fellow graduate of the University of Padua, authored a poem praising Valle’s lectures.[47]

Ramḥal and the University of Padua

As we are discussing Valle, we would be remiss if we did not at least briefly mention the relationship of Ramḥal to the university and its students. Though not part of this exhibit, the relationship of Ramḥal with the students of the university has been explored.[48] It had long been debated as to whether Ramḥal actually attended the university, as evidence was elusive. Debra Glassberg Gail has recently discovered records of his matriculation,[49] though not graduation. I obtained copies of these records confirming the matriculation of Moise Vita Luzzatto at the universitas artistarum,[50] amongst the students of philosophy and medicine.

Matriculation Records of 1723

Moise Vita Luzzato di Giacob ebreo

Matriculation Records of 1725

Moise Vita Luzato di Giacob ebreo

Matriculation Records of 1726

Moise Vita Luzato di Giac ebreo

The Luzzatto family had a long and productive relationship with the university as described below regarding the diploma of Raffaele, which is on display. Some of Ramḥal’s most cherished students, including Yekutiel Gordon and Moshe David Valle, studied medicine in Padua, and I have identified at least eight medical students for whom Ramḥal wrote congratulatory poems upon their graduation.[51]

Returning to the diploma, Valle, as well as the other students represented in this exhibit, had the invocation amended to “In Dei Aeterni Nomini.” Valle is identified as “Hebreus” as well. The year is listed as “currente anno,” devoid of any Christian reference.

Valle was promoted by Bernardino Ramazzini, who was in contact with some of the Christian Hebraists of that time.[52]Ramazzini is also considered the founder of occupational medicine, and in his classic work on diseases of the tradesman he discusses the increased prevalence of scabies among the Jewish population.[53]

Valle is buried in the Jewish cemetery of Padua.

The Diploma Medallion

The Padua diploma typically contains a medallion on the front page, which was designed and intended for the inclusion of a portrait. However, as this option required an additional fee, it was not exercised by all students. As the basic structure of the diploma was templated, for those who refused the portrait option, the medallion nonetheless remained. In these cases, one thus finds the medallion left bare, or filled with text. The three aforementioned diplomas in our exhibit reflect the three possible options. While Tilche chose the premium package, his fellow graduates did not.

4) Medical Diploma of Raffaele Luzzatto[54]
University of Padua 1797
Centro per la Storia dell’Università di Padova

The latest diploma in our exhibit is likewise noteworthy, though not because of its artistic value. Raffaele was a member of the famous Luzzatto family, many of whom graduated the University of Padua Medical School.[55]Raffaele was from the town of San Daniele in the northeastern region of Italy, Friuli.[56] From the end of the 17th to the early 19th century, numerous members of the San Daniele Luzzatto family graduated from the Padua medical school.[57]In fact, Raffaele was in a direct, unbroken line of what would ultimately be six generations of Luzzatto physicians, many of them named Raffaele.[58]

Samuel David Luzzatto (1800–1865), the great scholar and bibliophile, known as Shadal, reports that on a visit to his uncle Isaac in San Daniele, he was shown the medical diploma of Isaac’s father, Raphael.[59] Shadal then commented, “We learn that the poet Isaac was preceded by a Raphael and an Isaac, and was followed by a Raphael and an Isaac, all of them doctors.” This diploma on display may be the very diploma Shadal saw on his visit.

This is a simple unilluminated diploma comprised solely of calligraphic text. The invocation reads “In Dei Nomine,” similar but not identical to the invocations of the other diplomas in this exhibit.

Close inspection reveals that the word “Dei” is written over erased text of a longer word. There are a few additional erasures, including the words under the granting authority of the degree, which reflect the possibility that this diploma was templated for a Christian student, and originally read, “In Christi Nomine.”

Further proof for this theory is that the invocation for the Jewish student usually read, “In Dei Aeterni Nomine,” with the word “Aeterni” added. This is not the case here, as given the limited space of the templated invocation, it would not have been possible to add the additional word. Of note, Luzzatto’s graduation record in the Padua University Archives actually bears the invocation, “in Christi Nomine.”

There are a number of cases where the archival record for Jewish students bears the standard Christian invocation, while the student diploma does not. The archival scribe may have simply followed the usual formula without much thought, and the student would likely never have known otherwise. The diploma, however, was given to the student to possess in perpetuity and therefore the emendation to “in Dei Aeterni Nomine” would have been preferred for a Jewish student.

Luzzatto is also not identified as a hebreus in either the archives or in the diploma. Furthermore, while the diplomas of Tilche, Coen and Valle amended the format for the date to remove any Christian reference, this diploma retains the conventional Christian dating, “Anno a xti Nativ” (shorthand for Anno a Christi Nativitate).” All the aforementioned observations support the suggestion that this diploma was originally templated for a Christian student.

IV. Benvenisti Collection of Portraits of Physicians

Padua’s Museo d’Arte contains the Benvenisti collection of portraits of physicians. Displayed are reproductions of portraits of some Jewish physicians,[60] some of whom graduated from the University of Padua. I highlight two examples below.

1) Sabbato Vita Marini (1662-1748)

Marini’s famous portrait is used for the museum exhibit advertising.

Shabtai Ḥayyim Marini graduated from Padua in 1685[62] and was a close friend and possible teacher of Rabbi Moshe Ḥayyim Luzzatto (Ramḥal).[62] In addition, he translated into Hebrew the first three books of Ovid’s Metamorphoses from the Italian translation of Giovanni Andrea dell’Anguillara.[63] Joseph Almanzi composed an ode to Marini in his Nezem Zahav:

2) Samuele Medoro (1788-1854)

Samuel Medoro (1788-1854), received his training in the University of Padua, served as surgeon in the La Confraternità Israelitica “Sovvegno” di Padova, which endowed medical assistance to Jews throughout Italy, and published many medical articles. He was an active participant in the debate about the requirement for oral suction as part of the circumcision procedure. His handwritten lectures on cicumcision were sold at auction in 2013 by Kedem Auction House in Jerusalem.[64]

Conclusion

If you happen to be in Italy before the end of the year it may just be worth the detour from Venice to catch a rare glimpse of a little-known chapter at the crossroads of Jewish, Italian, medical and academic history. While there, make sure to book a tour with the museum, which includes the synagogue and cemeteries. In the old cemetery are buried Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen, who was a teacher and mentor to the Jewish medical students of Padua;[65] Abraham Catalano, physician and author of the work Olam Hafukh[66] on the 1631 plague (a reproduction of which is on display at the exhibit); and Moshe David Valle, who was a staunch supporter of Ramḥal and whose diploma is on display. If you have even the remotest interest in the history of medicine or anatomy, the University of Padua is home to the first and longest standing permanent anatomical theater in the world, completed in 1595, just steps away from the exhibit. In fact, the theater benches were not only occupied by many Jewish medical students over the centuries, there is also a record of Jews from the community (non-students) attending dissections when the theater was first built.[67] It is thus evident that you do not need to be a doctor (or health care provider) to appreciate this medically related exhibit.

I conclude with the following serious offer (though my wife Sara might describe it otherwise). If you make it to the exhibit in person, feel free to contact me, and I would be delighted to give you a tour while you are there- time and time zone permitting. (I have already done it once.)

Appendix- Jews, Medicine and the University of Padua: The Uncut Version

Below are a number of sections I had hoped to include in the exhibit, but for a variety of reasons did not make the cut.

Seforim/Books related to the Graduates

The original exhibit proposal included a section of first or early edition books/seforim related to or composed by Padua medical graduates. Included in this selective list are:

  • Paad Yitzak by Isaac ayyim Cantarini (Padua- 1664), which includes an account of a Jewish body kidnapped for the purpose of dissection by the non-Jewish medical students of Padua.

  • The ubiquitous Ma’aseh Tuviyah by Tuviyah HaRofeh (Padua-1683), one of the most famous graduates from Padua.[68]

  • Mateh Dan by David Nieto (Padua- 1687), patterned after the Kuzari.

  • Paad Yitzak, the first halakhic encyclopedia, by Isaac Lampronti (Padua- 1696).

  • Shemesh Tzedakah, responsa by Shimshon Morpurgo (Padua- 1700).

I also happened upon an article by Professor Joanna Weinberg about the collection of Hebrew printed works in the Antoniana Library of Padua.[69] A number of the items in this collection, all of which were printed before 1663, would be perfect for an exhibit on Jews and Medicine in Padua:

  • Cannon of Avicenna:[70] One of two Hebrew incunabula in this library, it is the only known Hebrew medical incunabula. Could Lazarus de Frigeis have used this copy when assisting Vesalius with the Hebrew terms of the Fabrica? Speculative to be sure, but certainly not out of the realm of possibility. Perhaps marginalia are present in the copy to shed light.

  • Shiltei ha Gibborim by Abraham Portelone:[71] Though neither medical in content nor written by a Padua graduate, it is nonetheless authored by one of the most famous Jewish medical personilites of that time and would certainly have been known to and possibly owned by the Jewish medical students in Padua. In addition, his son was a medical graduate of Padua and was promoted by none other than Galileo.

  • Pesakim from R. Yehuda Mintz and R. Meir Katzenellenbogen:[72] These two Torah giants were leaders of the Padua Jewish community in their day and certainly interacted and taught the Jewish medical students.[73]

  • Sefer Elim by Yosef Shlomo Delmedigo:[74] Delmedigo is one of the greatest alumni of Padua and amongst other things was known for his relationship with Galileo.[75]

In addition to the content of these books, their provenance was also relevant to our exhibit. Many of the Hebrew books held in the Antoniana Library originally belonged to Paduan Jews, evidenced by the family names inscribed on the title pages. I do not think it unreasonable to imagine that some of these works were actually used by Jewish medical students in Padua. Furthermore, I discovered that Pontificia Biblioteca Antoniana was a mere 750 meters from the Jewish Museum and Ghetto. It seemed too good to be true… and it was. The library requested exorbitant restoration fees for the items prior to transfer and regretfully financial constraints precluded this option. Alas, it was not meant be. I had also hoped to obtain Messer Leon’s Nofet Tzufim from the Vatican Library, but not unsurprisingly, was met with the same response and result.

Congratulatory Poems for the Jewish Medical Graduates of Padua

After having researched and written extensively about the congratulatory poems for the Jewish medical graduates of Padua, you might expect to find at least one hard copy of such a poem as part of the exhibit. However, for financial, legal and insurance reasons, the exhibit was limited to items found in Italy, primarily in the environs of Padua. Remarkably, of the over one hundred Hebrew congratulatory poems I have identified, not one is found in Italy. They are primarily found in Israel, America, England and Hungary. There is one single poem in the university archives written in Italian in honor of Samuele Coen,[76] whose diploma appears in the exhibit. The author is one of the University of Padua staff diploma illustrators, and I have yet to determine the story behind its composition. It does not in any way represent the genre of this poetry. In lieu of the physical poems, a slideshow of examples of congratulatory poems, along with examples of additional diplomas, is projected on the screen of the exhibition hall.

Padua Medical Graduates as Mohelim, Performing Circumcision on the Children of Their Fellow Graduates and Mentors

Identifying physicians of Jewish lineage is of great interest to some historians, but my interest lies at the intersection of medical practice and religious observance. The practice of circumcision by physicians is one such interface, and the physician-Mohel combination is not that common even today (with the exclusion of urologists). While this topic merits its own broader study, I have identified a number of Padua medical graduates who were also mohelim. Remarkably, in two cases, the pinkas mohel, or circumcision registry, is still extant, revealing another “medical” connection.

1) David Loria

Loria graduated Padua in 1623. Upon his graduation, Rabbi Yehuda Aryeh Modena composed a poem in his honor which now resides in the Oxford Bodleian Library.[77]

This poem is unique amongst the medical student poems, as it is one of only two medical student poems written in Aramaic.[78]

Loria and Modena maintained connection long after Loria’s graduation from medical school.[79] Indeed, Modena offered to bestow rabbinic ordination upon David Loria, though the latter declined for unknown reasons.[80] Loria was also a mohel and performed the rite for Modena’s grandson, Avtalion, in March 1636.[81] Though a physician in the Ghetto of Padua, Loria Fled Padua during the plague of 1631. However, he made extensive arrangements to provide for the needy.[82]

2) Salomon Lampronti[83]

Salomon was the son of the famous Isaac Lampronti, physician, rabbi, and author of Paḥad Yitzḥak. Isaac (Padua, 1696) and his son Salomon (Padua, 1734) were alumni of Padua’s medical school. Salomon was a mohel and his pinkas survived the ravages of time. Though I was unable to access the entire work, the passage shown in the Kedem auction catalogue[84] happened to include the record of Lampronti’s circumcision of the son of the physician Solomon Zamorani,[85] a Padua graduate of 1753.[86] Zamorani was also a student of the younger Lampronti. I suspect there are children of other Padua medical graduates included in this ledger.

3) Menahem Navarra[87]

Navarra completed his medical studies in 1740, and the poem below was written in honor of his graduation by Isaiah Romanin.[88]

Navarra was a mohel and, like Lampronti, his pinkas mohel has survived. Among those for whom he performed the rite were the children of Jacob Grassin Basilea and Raffael Ferrarese, both Padua medical graduates.[89] Below are examples of some of the entries:

March 27, 1757, son of Yaakov Gershon Basilea (Padua, 1735)[90] 

On December 2, 1769 Navarra circumcised the second son of Raffael Ferrarese (Padua, 1762), one of twins. The milah was performed one month after birth. Note he is called an “uman” (i.e., rofeh uman), which may possibly refer specifically to a university-trained physician.

There is a pinkas Milah housed in the University of Pennsylvania Library[91] which belonged to a member of the Fermi (or possibly Fermo/Firmo) family,[92] though the specific family member remains unknown. The entries run from 1705 to 1736. Therein are multiple references to Shimshon Morpurgo, a rabbi/physician graduate of Padua (1700).[93]

While the dates of the pinkas would align perfectly with the Padua medical graduate Moshe Yaakov son of David Fermo (Padua, 1701), I have no evidence to support his identification as the work’s author.[94] Furthermore, the spine of the work is stamped in gold with the words, Pinḳas mohel leha-R. Firmo. While the “R” typically refers to Rav, perhaps in this case the “R” stands for rofeh, though I admit this is unlikely.

[1] Bologna, founded in 1088, is considered the oldest university in the world.
[2] E. Reichman, “The ‘Doctored’ Medical Diploma of Samuel, the Son of Menaseh ben Israel: Forgery of ‘For Jewry’,” Seforim Blog (here), March 23, 2021; idem, “The Illustrated Life of an Illustrious Renaissance Jew: Rabbi Dr. Shimshon Morpurgo (1681-1740),” Seforim Blog (here), June 22, 2021.
[3] E. Reichman, “How Jews of Yesteryear Celebrated Graduation from Medical School: Congratulatory Poems for Jewish Medical Graduates in the 17th and 18th Centuries- An Unrecognized Genre,” Seforim Blog (here), May 29, 2022.
[4] Three additional lectures accompany the exhibit. For a list of the lectures, including zoom info and recordings, see here.
[5] The exhibit was limited to items found in Padua and its environs.
[6] On Vesalius, see O’Malley, Andreas Vesalius of Brussels. The classic bibliography of works about Vesalius by Harvey Cushing is continuously updated by Dr. Maurits Biesbrouck, Vesaliana: An Updated Vesalius Bibliography here.
[7] On the use of Hebrew in medical literature throughout history, see the excellent survey of H. Friedenwald, “The Use of the Hebrew Language in Medical Literature,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 2(1934), pp. 77–111. See also J. J. Barcia Goyanes, “Medieval Hebrew Anatomical Names: A Contribution to Their History,” Koroth 8:11–12 (1985), pp. 192–201; A. Goldstein, “Historical Development of Hebrew Medical Terminology,” Koroth 3:11–12 (May 1966); Goldstein, 4:1–2 (December 1966), p. 122; 4:5–7 (December 1967), p. 452; 4:11–12 (December 1968), p. 773. On the use of Hebrew in universities during this period, see, for example, Z. Y. Flashkas, “The Hebrew Language in the Universities of the Middle Ages,” Koroth 2:910 (May 1961), pp. 494495.
[8] On this topic, see, for example, the works Gerrit Bos, Gad Freudenthal, Resianne Fontaine, Lola Ferre, and Maud Kozody.
[9] O’Malley, Vesalius of Brussels, p. 33. For a list of professors of the Hebrew language at the Collegium Trilingue (University of Leuven) during Vesalius’s stay there, see Valerius Andreas, Fasti Academici Studii Generalis Lovaniensis (List of the Academics of the University of Louvain) (Lovanii, apud Hieronymum Nempaeum, 1650), p. 284. I thank Dr. Maurits Biesbrouck for graciously providing me with a copy of the relevant passage in this reference.
[10] On Avicenna (aka Ibn Sina) in Hebrew, see J. O. Leibowitz, “The Preface of Nathan Ha-Meati to his Hebrew Translation (1279) of Ibn-Sina’s Canon,” Koroth 7:1–2 (April 1976), pp. 1–7; Leibowitz, “Ibn Sina in Hebrew,” Koroth 8:1–2 (June 1981), p. 3; B. Richler, “Manuscripts of Avicenna’s Canon in Hebrew Translation: A Revised and Up-to-Date List,” Koroth 8:3–4 (August 1982), pp. 145–168; S. Kottek, “The Hebrew Manuscript of Avicenna’s Canon” (French), Medicina Nei Secoli 8:1 (1996), pp. 13–29; Gad Freudenthal and Mauro Zonta, “Avicenna Among Medieval Jews: The Reception of Avicenna’s Philosophical, Scientific and Medical Writings in Jewish Cultures, East and West,” Arabic Sciences and Philosophy 22 (2010), 217–287.
[11] De Humani Corporis Fabrica (1543), p. 166, translated in O’Malley, Vesalius of Brussels, p. 120.
[12] Mauro Perani and Giacomo Corazzol, Nuovo Catalogo dei Manoscritti Ebraici della Biblioteca Universitaria di Bologna (Minerva Edizioni, 2013), 35-38.
[13] M. Etziony, “The Hebrew-Aramaic Element in Vesalius’s Tabulae Anatomicae Sex,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 18(1945), 413–424; Etziony, “The Hebrew-Aramaic Element in Vesalius: A Critical Analysis,” Bulletin of the History of Medicine 20 (1946), pp. 36–57; Jacques Pines, “La nomenclature Hebraique dans le oeuvres anatomiques d’Andre Vesale,” Le Scalpel 118 (1965), 8592; Juan Jose Barcia Goyanes, “Los terminos osteologicos de la ‘Fabrica’ y la evolucion del lenguaje anatomico Hebreo en la Edad Media,” Sefarad 42 (1982), 299–326.
[14] Etziony, “Hebrew-Aramaic Element in Vesalius,” 36.
[15] For unclear reasons, the phrase “distinguished Jewish physician” was omitted from the second edition of the Fabrica. See O’Malley, Vesalius of Brussels, p. 120.
[16] S. Franco, “Ricerche su Lazzaro ebreo de Frigeis, medico insigne ed amico di Andre Vesal,” La Rassegna Mensile di Israel 15 (1949), 495–515; J. Pines, “Lazarus Hebraeus of Frigeis, Collaborator and Close Friend of Andreas Vesalius” (French), Le Scalpel 117(January, 1964), 512; Balazs Bugyi, “Rilievi critici sul medico traduttore di Vesalio, Lazarus de Frigeis,” Acta Medicae Historiae Patavinae 11 (1964–1965), 203–205; B. Bugyi, “Critical Notes about Lazarus de Frigeis: Vesalius’s Advisor in Hebrew Terminology,” Koroth 3:11–12 (May 1966), 613–615; Francesco Piovan, “Nuovo documenti sul medico ebreo Lazzaro ‘De Frigeis’ collaboratore di Andrea Vesalio,” Quaderni per la Storia Dell’Universita di Padova 21 (1988), pp. 67–74; D. Carpi, “Alcune nuove considerazione su Lazzaro di Raphael ‘de Frigiis’,” Quaderni per la Storia Dell’Universita di Padova 30 (1997), pp. 218–226. For more of the identity and history of De Frigies, see M. Nevins, “A Face in the Crowd: Vesalius’ Jewish Friend,” Korot 23(2015-2016), 237-256.
[17] See O’Malley, Vesalius of Brussels, 142.
[18] Vesalius also addresses a midrashic tradition that an indestructible luz bone will be the nidus, or origin, of the resurrection of the body in Messianic times. He attributes this notion to an Arabic or magical tradition. He rejects this belief as neither verifiable nor consistent with anatomical observation. See E. Reichman and F. Rosner, “The Bone Called Luz,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 51:1 (January, 1996), 52–65.
[19] See O’Malley, Vesalius of Brussels, 73–110.
[20] On the University of Padua in general, see, for example, H. Rashdall, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, 3 vols. (Oxford University Press, reissued 1987); L. Rosetti, The University of Padua: An Outline of Its History, trans. Alice W. Maladorno Hargraves (Edizioni Lint, 1987).
[21] On the Jews and the University of Padua, see A. Ciscato, Gli Ebrei in Padova (13001800) (Arnaldo Forni Editore, 1901); Cecil Roth, “The Medieval University and the Jew,” Menora 9:2 (1930), 128–141; S. Dubnov, “Jewish Students at the University of Padua,” Sefer Hashanah: American Hebrew Yearbook (1931), 216219; Jacob Shatzky, “On Jewish Medical Students of Padua,” Journal of the History of Medicine 5 (1950), 444447; Cecil Roth, “The Qualification of Jewish Physicians in the Middle Ages,” Speculum 28 (1953), 834–843; David B. Ruderman, “The Impact of Science on Jewish Culture and Society in Venice (with Special Reference to Jewish Graduates of Padua’s Medical School),” in Gli Ebrei e Venezia, Secoli xivxviii (Atti del Convegno Internationale Organizzato D’all’lnstituto di Storia della Sociata e della Stato Veneziano dell a Fondatione Giorgio Cini, Venezia, 1983), 417–448, reprinted in Ruderman, Jewish Thought and Scientific Discovery in Early Modern Europe (New Haven, 1995); S. Massry et al., “Jewish Medicine and the University of Padua: Contribution of the Padua Graduate Toviah Cohen to Nephrology,” American Journal of Nephrology 19:2 (1999), 213–221; S. M. Shasha and S. G. Massry, “The Medical School of Padua and Its Jewish Graduates” (Hebrew), Harefuah 141:4 (April 2002), 388394; E. Reichman, “The Valmadonna Trust Broadsides: A Virtual Reunion of the Jewish Medical Students of the University of Padua,” Verapo Yerapei: The Journal of Torah and Medicine of the Albert Einstein College of Medicine Synagogue 7 (2017), 55- 76.
[22] For a list of Jewish graduates from the University of Padua medical school in past centuries, see Abdelkader Modena and Edgardo Morpugo, Medici E Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati E Licenziati Nell’Universita Di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Bologna, 1967); E. V. Ceseracciu, “Ebrei laureate a Padova nel cinquecento,” Quaderni per la storia dell’Universita di Padova 13 (1980), 151–168.
[23] This extremely rare manuscript of a unique and unpublished Yiddish translation of Vesalius’s work on anatomy is one of only fifty surviving Yiddish manuscripts predating 1600, of which only five address medical subjects. The manuscript was gifted to the University of Pennsylvania (Rare Book & Manuscript Library LJS 485) in 2015 and is available in digital format online.
[24] See Daniel Carpi, Minutes Book of the Council of the Jewish Community of Padua Volume Two: 1603-1630 (Israel Academy of Sciences and Humanities, 1979), parti 545 and parti 616.
[25] Carpi, op. cit., parti 616, discusses a request to delay burial during the season of anatomy at the medical school to preclude grave robbing.
[26] Jeffrey Levine, “Jewish History in Vesalius’s Fabrica,” September 17, 2014 (here).
[27] For more on the history of anatomy and graverobbing in rabbinic literature, see Edward Reichman, The Anatomy of Jewish Law (Maggid/OU/YU Press, 2022).
[28] Benjamin Ravid, “In Defense of the Jewish Doctors of Venice, ca. 1670,” in M. Perani, ed., Una Manna Buona per Mantova: Man Tov le-Man Tovah: Studi in onore Vittodire Colorni per il suo 92 compleanno. (Leo S. Olschki: Florence, 2004), 479-506, esp. 480. On the Counts Palatine, see also, Debra Glasberg Gail, Scientific Authority and Jewish Law in Early Modern Italy, Ph.D Dissertation, Columbia University (2016), Chapter 3; Andreas Rehberg, “Le Lauree Conferite dai ContiP di Nomina Papale: Prime Indagini,” in Anna Esposito and Umberto Longo, eds., Lauree Università e Gradi Accademici in Italia nel Mmedioevo e Nella Prima età Moderna (Cooperativa Libraria Universitaria Editrice: Bologna, 2013), 47-76.
[29] On Messer Leon and his work, see Isaac Rabinowitz, The Book of the Honeycomb’s Flow by Judah Messer Leon: A Critical Edition and Translation (Cornell University Press, 1983); Daniel Carpi, “Rabbi Yehuda Messer Leon and his Work as a Physician” (Hebrew), Michael 1 (1972), 276-301; idem, “Notes on the Life of Rabbi Judah Messer Leon,” in E. Toaff, ed., Studi sull’Ebraismo Italiano: In Memoria di Cecil Roth (Rome: Barulli, 1974), 39-62.
[30] Marc Shapiro, “Talmud Batra, R. Yudel Rosenberg, R. Mordechai Elefant, and Sexual Abuse,” The Seforim Blog (March 24, 2022).
[31] Rabinowitz, op. cit., xxiii. For more on this yeshiva and other programs throughout history that combined the study of Torah and medicine, see E. Reichman, “The Yeshiva Medical School: The Evolution of Educational Programs Combining Jewish Studies and Medical Training,” Tradition 51:3 (Summer 2019), 41-56.
[32] Carpi, op. cit., “Notes,” 51-52. See also, E. Reichman, “The Yeshiva Medical School,” op. cit.
[33] Daniel Carpi, “Notes on the Life of Rabbi Judah Messer Leon,” in E. Toaff, ed., Studi sull’Ebraismo Italiano: In Memoria di Cecil Roth (Rome: Barulli, 1974), 39-62, esp. 51 and 56-58.
[34] Responsa Maharik, n. 88. See J. David Bleich, “Clerical Robes: Distinction of Dishonor,” Tradition 50:1 (2017), 9-34. For another halakhic chapter involving Messer Leon, see Elliott Horowitz, “Don’t Mess with Messer Leon: Halakhah and Humanism in Fifteenth Century Italy,” in Richard Cohen, et. al., eds., Jewish Culture in Early Modern Europe, Essays in honor of David B. Ruderman (Hebrew Union College Press: Cincinnati, 2014).
[35] The diploma of Israel Olmo (Padua, 1755) was sold at Sotheby’s Important Judaica Auction (November 24, 2009), lot n. 160, and is now part of the Braginsky Collection in Zurich. The diploma of Emanuel Delmedigo De Dattolis (Padua, 1686) was sold by Kestenbaum Auction House Fine Judaica (July 21, 2020), and is now in a private collection .
[36] The diploma of Moises Tilche (Padua, 1687) was reproduced for the exhibit.
[37] Tilche is listed in the work of Abdelkader Modena and Edgardo Morpurgo, Medici E Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati E Licenziati Nell Universita Di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Bologna, 1967), n. 25, p. 46.
[38] See M and M, n. 50.
[39] For extensive bibliography on Cantarini, see, Asher Salah, La Republique des Lettres: Rabbins, Ecrivains et Medecins, Juifs en Italie au XVIIIe Siecle (Brill: Leiden, 2007), 120-124. See additional bibliography in the poem section.
[40] This letter is appended in Shemesh Tzedaka (Venice, 1743) to n. 14, 28a. The pagination is confusing as the headings of the lengthy responsum n. 14 are sometimes labeled as n. 4 (omitting the yod) and sometimes mislabeled as n. 15. See also Salah, Le Republique des Lettres, 630.
[41] For further discussion of this particular controversy, which involved a number of prominent rabbinic authorities of the time, as well as for broader treatment of the clash of Ashkenazi and Sephardi customs in history, see B. S. Hamburger, Gedole ha-Dorot ‘al Mishmar Minhag Ashkenaz, 2nd ed. (Bnei Brak: Makhon Moreshet Ashkenaz, 5754), esp. 4344.
[42] Coen is listed in the work of Abdelkader Modena and Edgardo Morpurgo, Medici E Chirurghi Ebrei Dottorati E Licenziati Nell Universita Di Padova dal 1617 al 1816 (Bologna, 1967). This diploma is also included in a spectacular volume of reproductions of Padua diplomas from 1504 to 1806 issued by the University of Padua in 1998. See G. Baldissin Molli, L. Sitran Rea, and E. Veronese Ceseracciu, Diplomi di Laurea all’Università di Padova (15041806) (Padova: Università degli studi di Padova, 1998).
[43] Jewish Theological Seminary Library Ms. 9027 V5:7. JTS lists the year as 1700, though Modena and Morpurgo, list his graduation year as 1702. The original diploma confirms the date of 1702.
[44] See Modena and Morpurgo, n. 154, p. 65 and n. 211, p. 81.
[45] Valle is listed in Modena and Morpurgo, n. 184, p. 73.
[46] For a list of his works, see here.
[47] Meir Letteris, ed., Ephraim Luzzatto, Eleh Bene ha-Ne’urim (Druck und Verlag des Franz Edlen von Schmid: Wien, 1839), 69-70, n. 50.
[48] On the relationship between Luzzatto and the medical students of Padua, see, for example, Morris Hoffman, trans., Isaiah Tishby, Messianic Mysticism: Moses Hayim Luzzatto and the Padua School (Oxford: The Littman Library, 2008).
[49] Debra Glasberg Gail, Scientific Authority and Jewish Law in Early Modern Italy, Ph.D Dissertation, Columbia University (2016), 127, n. 56.
[50] ASUPd, ms. 233, f. 168; ASUPd, ms. 233, f. 180; ASUPd, ms. 233, f. 187.
[51] Elia Consigli (1723), Emanuele Calvo (1724), Elia Cesana (1727), Jacob Alpron (1727), Marco Coen (1728), Yekutiel Gordon (1732), Israel Gedalya Cases (1733), and Salomon Lampronti, (1734). Most of these poems are not extant. Some are listed in Y. Zemora, Rabi Moshe Ḥayyim Luzzatto, Sefer HaShirim (Mosad HaRav Kook: Jerusalem, 5710).
[52] See David Malkiel, “Christian Hebraism in a Contemporary Key: The Search for Hebrew Epitaph Poetry in Seventeenth Century Italy,” Jewish Quarterly Review 96:1 (Winter 2006), 123-146.
[53] Bernardino Ramazzini, A Treatise of the Diseases of the Tradesman (Andrew Bell: London, 1705), 196-197, cited in Robert Jutte, The Jewish Body (University of Pennsylvania Press: Philadelphia, 2021), 177.
[54] Luzzatto is listed in Modena and Morpurgo, n. 305, p. 107.
[55] See Modena and Morpurgo, and Reichman, “The Valmadonna Trust Broadsides.”
[56] See the website of the Museo del Territorio on San Daniele del Friuli here. The site lists four of this graduates ancestors but does not mention him. He would be the fifth.
[57] See Modena and Morpurgo, 76. There is a misprint showing Luzzatto graduating in 1794. In a note on his relative, Isacco del Raffael, the authors correctly state the year of graduation as 1797.
[58] Cited in D. Mirsky, The Life and Work of Ephraim Luzzatto (New York: Ktav Publishers, 1987), 8.
[59] See Mirsky, Ephraim Luzzatto, op. cit, 8.
[60] Sabbato Vita Marini (1662-1748), Benedetto Frizzi (1756-1844), Medoro Samuele (1788-1854), Amedeo Conegliano (1767–1851), Donato Benvenisti (1787–1835).
[61] For reference to Marini’s graduation from Padua, see Modena and Morpurgo, 41, n. 100. Modena and Morpurgo confuse the two Marinis and reference Friedenwald’s mention of Marini as witness for Pictor’s diploma in association with Shabtai Aharon instead of Shabtai Ḥayyim.
[62] See here. The author of the On the Main Line blog may have confused Shabtai Aḥaron Ḥayim Marini (1685–1762) with Shabtai Ḥayim Marini (1662–1748). The blog cites a passage from the Ḥida’s Ma‘agal Tov (p. 82) that mentions in passing that Chida attended a lecture/sermon of Marini, after which they shared a meal together. A manuscript draft of one of Marini’s sermons was auctioned in November 26, 2013. See here). In the notes for the auction, it states that “many letters written to him (Marini) are featured in the book ‘Iggrot Ramḥal’. The Ramḥal mentions him tens of times in his letters. He was the one who convinced the Ramḥal to leave Europe and immigrate to Eretz Yisrael.”
[63] This translation was published many times between 1500 and 1700, with the last edition in 1832. Marini also adapted Pirke Avot into verses and composed occasional poems for weddings. See Laura Roumani’s critical edition of Marini’s work, “Le Metamorfosi di Ovidio nella traduzione ebraica di Shabbetay Ḥayyim Marini di Padova” [Ovid’s Metamorphoses translated into Hebrew by Shabtai Ḥayyim Marini from Padua] (PhD diss., University of Turin, 1992). See also L. Roumani, “The Legend of Daphne and Apollo in Ovid’s Metamorphoses Translated into Hebrew by Shabbetay Ḥayyim Marini” [in Italian], Henoch (Turin University) 13 (1991): 319–335. See the small volume by Jacob Goldenthal, Rieti und Marini: Dante und Ovid in Hebräischer Umkleidung (Vienna: Gerold, 1851).
[64] https://www.kedem-auctions.com/en/content/handwritten-lectures-dr-samuel-medoro-circumcision-copy-letters-italian-scholars-and
[65] See Reichman, “Yeshiva Medical School,” op. cit.
[66] A rare Italian version of this work is found in Padua and a page is reproduced for the exhibit. It was added in light of our recent experience with Covid-19. There are a number of extant Hebrew manuscript versions of this work, and it was only published in the 20th century by Cecil Roth. See Cecil Roth, ed., Abraham Catalano, “Olam Hafukh,” Kovetz al Yad 4:14 (1946), 67–101.
[67] Cynthia Klestinec, “A History of Anatomy Theaters in Sixteenth Century Padua,” Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 59:3 (2004), n. 74.
[68] Much has been written on Tuviyah. For the most recent contribution, see Kenneth Collins and Samuel Kottek, eds., Ma’ase Tuviya (Venice, 1708): Tuviya Cohen on Medicine and Science (Jerusalem: Muriel and Philip Berman Medical Library of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, 2021).
[69] Joanna Weinberg, “The Collection of Hebrew Printed Books in the Antoniana Library of Padua,” Il Santo 14:3 (September-December 1974): 271-303.
[70] Weinberg, #134.
[71] #121 Weinberg. I discussed this work briefly in two other Seforim Blog entries, E. Reichman, “The Discovery of a Hidden Treasure in the Vatican and the Correction of a Centuries-Old Error,” Seforim Blog (here), January 11, 2022; idem, “Samuel Vita Della Volta (1772-1853): An Underappreciated Bibliophile and his Medical ‘Diploma’tic Journey,” Seforim Blog (here), November 5, 2021.
 [72] #10 Weinberg
[73] In #15 R. Minz addresses the issue of wearing masks (masquerade?) on Purim for both men and women (masquerade?). Maharam Padua (#86) discusses whether a student has to pay a tutor if the tutor flees during a plague.
[74] #12 Weinberg
[75] See the creative essay by Stefano Gulizia, “The Paduan Rebbi: A Note on Galileo’s Household and Mediterranean Science in the Seventeenth Century,” Philosophical Readings VII:3 (2015), 43-52.
[76] Padua University Archives, Raccolta Diplomi, 33. This poem was found folded in the same file as Coen’s diploma and has gone previously unnoticed. For further discussion, see Edward Reichman, Congratulatory Poems for the Jewish Medical Graduates of the University of Padua (University of Padua Press, forthcoming).
[77] MS. Michael 528, 60 recto, number 341. See Simon Bernstein, Divan of Rabbi Yehuda Arye MiModena (Hebrew) (Philadelphia, 1932), n. 79.
[78] I thank Dr. Susan Einbinder and Dr. Richard Steiner for assistance in interpreting this poem. Bernstein omits a letter in the second word of the third line and it should read “b’ulpana d’asuta” i. e., medical school. The other poem in Aramaic was written for Yehudah Matzliaḥ Padova. See Meir Benayahu, “Poems for the Graduation of the Physician Yehuda Matzliaḥ Padua,” (Hebrew) Koroth 7:1-2 (Nisan, 5736), 39-49.
[79] Modena wrote a poem for the birth of Loria’s son Shimon in August 1633. See Bernstein, Divan, op. cit., n. 80. A copy of this poem is in the British Library, The Oriental and India Office Collections, Shelfmark 1978.f.5.


[80] See S. Simonsohn, Zikne Yehudah (Mosad HaRav Kook: Jerusalem, 5716), 46.
[81] See Mark R. Cohen, trans. and ed., The Autobiography of a Seventeenth-Century Venetian Rabbi: Leon Modena’s Life of Judah (Princeton University Press, 1989), 142.
[82] See E. Reichman, “From Graduation to Contagion: Jewish Physicians Facing Plague in Padua, 1631” The Lehrhaus (here), September 8, 2020.
[83] On Lampronti, see Asher Salah, La République des Lettres: Rabbins, écrivains et medecins, juifs en Italie au XVIIIe siècle (Brill: Leiden, 2007), n. 516.
[84] Kedem Auction #22 Catalogue (May 8, 2012), Lot 217.
[85] Entry n. 169, 1774.
[86] Modena and Morpurgo, 95. Zamorani, from Ferrara, was also a student of Solomon Lampronti. See Nepi Ghirondi, Toldot Gedolei Yisrael, p. 133.
[87] On Navarra, see Cecil Roth, “Rabbi Menahem Navarra: His Life and Time 1717-1777. A Chapter in the History of the Jews of Verona,” Jewish Quarterly Review 15:4 (April, 1925), 427-466.
[88] Kaufmann Collection in the Hungarian Academy of Sciences Library in Budapest, Hungary (580, 20). There is also a copy in the British Library (Oriental and India Office Collections, Shelfmark 1978.f.3).
[89] See Navarra’s circumcision ledger (1745-1783) at NLI system n. 990001857430205171. The original ledger is housed in the University of Leeds in the Cecil Roth Collection (MS Roth/208). The children of Basilea are listed at numbers 41 and 91, and the children of Ferrarese at numbers 116, 130 and 148.
[90] M and M p. 87.
[91] CAJS Rar Ms 503. I thank Chaim Meiselman for bringing this to my attention.
[92] Fermi and Fermo were different family names.
[93] The catalogue notes references to Morpurgo on pages 16r and 24r. There is an additional mention of Morpurgo on page 32v (item 167), which is pictured here. The name Morpurgo spans across two lines. On Morpurgo, see E. Reichman, “The Illustrated Life of an Illustrious Renaissance Jew: Rabbi Dr. Shimshon Morpurgo (1681-1740),” Seforim Blog (here), June 22, 2021.
[94] The catalogue identifies references by the author to his family members, but I was unable to find any corroborated genealogical information elsewhere.