Anim Zemorot:  A Modern Purim Parody
For many centuries, parodies have been part of the Purim literature (see this post discussing their history).  One particularly popular genre of Purim literature has been the fake tefila.  Perhaps the best-known collection is the “Kol Bo” (first printed in L’vov, 1855 – see I. Davidson, Parody in Jewish Literature, n. 191 discussing this work, and a later example here) which runs the gamut of Kiddush to Yetziv Pitgam (de-Lot mi-S’dom) and Mareh Haman to an elaborate Haggada (known as Leil Shikkorim) and even includes a collection of "Shu"t Le-Purim (which isn't recorded in Kuntres ha-Teshuvot).  A collection of these and other Purim works have been recently republished in Ve-Nahafokh Hu, ed. Dov Goldberger, 2. vol., (https://www.getit.co.il/BN_Direct/43804/).Elli Schorr has added his own contributions over the years to this venerable genre. In honor of his daughter's Bat Mitzva (this past Rosh Chodesh Adar), he published his works, as well as several of the “classics” and some by Rabbi Aharon Frazer, to flesh out a preliminary “machzor” for Purim, entitled אנעים זמורות.  (The title, like many of the lines in the machzor, is a play whereby a sacred text undergoes a minor spelling change to reference wine, or drinking, or levity, etc.)  One wishes, incidentally, that Schorr would have actually composed a faux אנעים זמירות to include in the “liturgy”.

For over a decade, Schorr has been sending Purim mailings, on an informal basis, to friends and family (and some have appeared on his blog, purim365.blogspot.com, albeit not a fulsome treatment). Most have been of the tefila genre, but others have included a parody of Aviviah Gottlieb Zornberg’s books on Chumash (co-authored with Chaim and Shari Saiman) and particular pieces that have focused more on current events or community politics than the timeless nature of the tefila parody.  Having written pieces that have been parodies of Shabbat, Pesach, Shavu’ot, Yom Kippur, and Sukkot liturgy, among others, there was enough material to print something that would be more of an anthology, across the Jewish calendar.  As he has developed more knowledge of the world of classical piyyut (largely owing to the tutelage of his neighbor, Prof. Avi Shmidman), he has also reworked older piyyutim to better reflect paytanic sensibilities.  For example, his old Tefilat Gefen (a takeoff on Geshem) was reworked this year to be an alphabetic acrostic, like the original Geshem.  Some of the rhyme scheme, though, was left imperfect, at the preference of a good punchline.

Some of the more recent works, such as ברכת המזון, a spoof of the special bentsching recited at a Brit Milah, are more faithful to the paytanic conventions of proper rhymes and meter and often include a חתימה מקראית where the last line of a stanza is a direct quote of a pasuk.  This may be the best example in the book of a parody of both the form and the content.  The stanzas are to a meter and rhyme identical to the original and, if sung with the nusach, sound authentic.  Additionally, the רשות asked at the beginning of the zimmun is turned on its head, and permission is asked of, inter alia, mamzerim, chalalim, and Haman’s children. The הרחמן section at the end turns both the blood covenant and the eschatological visions into dreams of a great, big, drunken Purim se’udah.Other pieces reappearing here, with minor varations (and many of them with nikkud for the first time, though with some errors in the preliminary draft edited here), are an akdamut retelling the story of Purim in faux Aramaic, Kabbalat Shabbat witha במה משתכרין nd כגוונא   both, a stream-of-consciousness Kiddush published by Professor J. Tabory attributed to his late father, Rabbi Zvi Tabory, and a מראה כהן  depicting a kohen having delivered a ruling regarding mareh nega’im, changing the meaning of the phrase mareh kohen.Several pieces make their first appearance in this addition.  The most ambitious is a parody of amitz koach (“mitz koach”, excerpted below) written according to the same poetic convention as the original (alphabetical acrostic, 5 words per each non-rhyming line) and, like many of the Yom kippur piyyutim, starts from the Creation and works its way to the main event. In this case, the event is not the Temple service, but is the Shushan chain of events.  Instead of the priests prostrating themselves, those in the king’s courtyard do so (when Haman passes by); instead of a goat tumbling down hill, drunkards are rolling away; instead of counting blood sprinkles, Haman’s sons (or, alternatively, glasses of wine drunk) are counted. Written with the sensibilities of a chazzan, ואף הוא היה מתכוון works well with Rosenblatt’s classic niggun for a duet.  Several smaller pieces, not bearing enough humorous content to stand alone, are included here as well.  One is a special nusakh inspired by last year’s Erev Pesach where, in one morning, we had bi’ur chametz, bi’ur of shevi’it wine, birkat ha-chammah, and siyyum for the first borns.  Another piece is a short “ushpizin” for Purim.  A parody of the prayer for the government (תפילה לשלום חמר המדינה) appears below, as does a special version of the trop for annoying people. (See below for a few examples.)

People interested in obtaining one of the remaining hard copies, should contact the author directly, at elli dot Schorr at gmail.

“‘I Do Not Understand a Single Word of What I Wrote in My Book’: Rav Kook, Saul Lieberman, and a Literary Mishlo’aḥ Manot Exchange”

By Aviad Hacohen

The festival of Purim, with its customs and traditions, has long constituted a broad and fertile field for a vast body of research, folklore, and ritual practice associated with the “Jewish carnival.”^[1] The drinking of wine, the wearing of costumes (which have no foundation in early sources and, in the view of many scholars, were influenced by the Venetian carnival),^[2] the use of noisemakers for the purpose of “blotting out Amalek,”^[3] and the practice of mishlo’aḥ manot have all added layers of joy and exuberance to the festival, at times reaching the point of genuine revelry and even debauchery,^[4] and giving rise in certain historical contexts to acts of mockery, hostility, and ritualized violence that have attracted sustained scholarly attention.^[5]

Two of the day’s commandments explicitly mentioned in the Scroll of Esther are “the sending of portions, each man to his fellow, and gifts to the poor.”^[6] Whereas the giving of charity to the poor assumed a more or less uniform form, the “sending of portions” became a platform for no small measure of creativity. Already in the Talmud,^[7] it is related that the amora Rabbi Yehudah Nesi’ah (the grandson of the tanna Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi)^[8] sent his colleague Rabbi Hoshaya an especially splendid mishlo’aḥ manot, consisting of choice veal and an entire jug of wine.

To this day, one may observe throughout Israel, particularly in Haredi concentrations, especially elaborate mishlo’aḥ manot, laden with assorted and varied food items, accompanied by ornate trays and crackling cellophane wrapping. Alongside the traditional commandment, in recent decades in particular, a rich vein of humor has developed portraying the familiar bottle of wine and dry cake as completing an entire “circuit” within the community, passed from hand to hand as a repeatedly re-gifted mishlo’aḥ manot, until it ultimately returns to its original sender.^[9] In light of this reality, many today prefer to refrain from preparing an individualized mishlo’aḥ manot, much of whose content is ultimately discarded after the festival, and instead opt for a standardized communal mishlo’aḥ manot distributed collectively to members of the community. The funds thereby saved, rather than being expended on redundant food items and decorative packaging, are redirected toward a range of charitable and benevolent causes.

These contemporary developments, however, merely underscore a broader point: the commandment of mishlo’aḥ manot has long been characterized by considerable elasticity in both form and practice. Indeed, halakhic literature contains an extensive discussion concerning the question of how one may properly discharge one’s obligation with respect to this commandment. One of the more intriguing debates in this context concerns whether one may fulfill the obligation of mishlo’aḥ manot not through edible “portions,” but rather through “words of Torah,” by sending a book, each person to his fellow. There is, in fact, no small body of testimony regarding sages of Israel, such as Rabbi Shlomo Alkabetz and Rabbi Yehudah Aszod, who sent, as “mishlo’aḥ manot, each person to his fellow,” their own Torah novellae or scholarly compositions.^[10]

This halakhic discussion is not merely theoretical. In the course of my research on Rabbi Professor Saul Lieberman (1898-1982),^[11] I encountered a striking modern resonance of precisely this idea, one that illuminates the enduring cultural and intellectual valences of mishlo’aḥ manot beyond its strictly culinary expression. Although he arrived in Jerusalem at a relatively late age, being about twenty-nine, Lieberman quickly became integrated into Jerusalem’s intellectual milieu. As a member of the first cohort of students at the Institute of Jewish Studies at the Hebrew University on Mount Scopus (which had been founded only a few years earlier), he listened with great thirst to the teachings of the leading scholars in Jewish Studies and in classical studies, among them his teacher and master Professor Yaakov Naḥum Epstein,^[12] Professor Shmuel Klein, and Professor Moshe Schwabe,^[13] one of the foremost scholars of classical culture.

Alongside his academic studies, he soon acquired a reputation as an exceptionally great Torah scholar, for whom no secret of rabbinic literature was lo anīs lei, that is, nothing lay beyond him and nothing escaped his grasp. For many hours he would labor diligently over his learning, memorizing Mishnayot and Talmud – Bavli and Yerushalmi – by heart,^[14] and within a few years he produced several exemplary works, such as On the Yerushalmi (1929) and The Talmud of Caesarea (1931), which to this day are regarded as foundational texts in the scholarly study of rabbinic literature.^[15]

Upon the completion of his studies, Lieberman began teaching in the Talmud preparatory program of the Institute of Jewish Studies, while simultaneously devoting himself to the composition of The Yerushalmi According to Its Plain Meaning (Ha-Yerushalmi Ke-Peshuto) (1935), intended as a comprehensive commentary on the entire Jerusalem Talmud.

On the personal plane, life did not treat him kindly. A short time after his arrival in the Land of Israel, he was bereaved of his youthful wife, Rachel née Rabinowitz, daughter of the rabbi of Pinsk and a descendant of a distinguished rabbinic dynasty. Some time later, he married his second wife, Judith, likewise of illustrious lineage in her own right, the daughter of Rabbi Meir Berlin (later, Bar-Ilan), leader of the Mizrachi movement, and granddaughter of the Netziv of Volozhin. She accompanied him faithfully until the end of her days. The couple did not merit children, and Lieberman immersed himself in his learning.^[16]

In the course of these years he became integrated into the “circle of Jerusalem sages,” forming close friendships with many of its members, among them the writer S.Y. Agnon^[17]; the scholar Gershom Scholem^[18]; the bookseller and proprietor of the Darom publishing house, Michl Rabinowitz; the educator Eliezer Meir Lifshitz; and the merchant and cultural patron Shlomo Zalman Schocken,^[19] who in those days founded the Institute for the Study of Medieval Hebrew Poetry.^[20]

One figure with whom Lieberman developed an especially close relationship was the Chief Rabbi of the Land of Israel, Rav Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook. Rav Kook was revered by many members of the Yishuv, among them Berl Katznelson and S.Y. Agnon, and even by self-described “heretics” such as Gershom Scholem and Justice Haim Cohn, who in his youth studied Torah for a year in Rav Kook’s yeshiva together with his cousin, the journalist Azriel Carlebach.^[21]

Despite the age gap between them (Rav Kook was twenty-seven years older than Lieberman), the two formed an exceptionally close bond, so much so that Rav Kook, despite being heavily burdened with unceasing rabbinic and public responsibilities, agreed to reserve a fixed hour each day to study in ḥavruta with Saul Lieberman the Tur on Ḥoshen Mishpat, together with Rabbi Joseph Karo’s Beit Yosef.^[22]

Like many others, Lieberman, who would later come to be recognized as the greatest scholar of the Talmud in the twentieth century, continued to revere Rav Kook until his final days, and on more than one occasion cited his teachings. Thus, for example, in a letter dated 29 December 1981 to his younger colleague, Professor Ephraim E. Urbach, Lieberman opens with the following sentence:

“You wrote to me that ‘you were ill,’ and I was reminded of the words of Rav Kook, of blessed memory, who said: I prefer to hear ‘I was ill’ rather than ‘I was wealthy’….”^[23]

According to a widespread Jerusalem legend, Lieberman and Rav Kook stipulated that they would not cancel their daily study session for any amount of money in the world, and that should either of them violate this condition, he would be required to pay a substantial “fine” to his counterpart. For Lieberman, whose daily schedule was relatively free, fulfilling this condition was easy. For Rav Kook, who in those days was already in poor health and burdened to exhaustion with the needs of the public, fulfilling it was far more difficult, almost impossible.

And indeed, on one such day Rav Kook was compelled to cancel the study session after being invited to serve as sandek at the circumcision of the child of one of Jerusalem’s notable residents. Lieberman, of course, did not forget the matter,^[24] and resolved to vindicate the affront at an appropriate time.

In the late afternoon of the “Purim of the unwalled cities,” the fourteenth of Adar 5695 (1935), when Rav Kook was preoccupied with the final preparations for the reading of the Megillah that night in Jerusalem and with organizing the charity funds of matanot la-evyonim to be distributed the following day (for in Jerusalem Purim is celebrated on the fifteenth of Adar), Lieberman appeared unexpectedly at his home and demanded payment of the “fine”: one hour of study in exchange for the hour that had been cancelled several months earlier.

Rav Kook, who recognized the justice of the claim, had little choice. He set aside all his affairs, and the two sat and studied together for a full hour.

Thus far the story, which circulated in Jerusalem for many years. I confess that for a long time I regarded it as no more than a charming “urban legend,” one of those anecdotes that naturally crystallize around towering figures, depicting them not only in their greatness in Torah but also, in the manner of the early sages, as men of wit who knew how to tease one another with affectionate irony.

The story took root, and its echoes may be found in various books as well, albeit in an imprecise form, such as in the writings of Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria on Rav Kook.^[25] The source material for Rabbi Neria’s account is preserved in his personal archive, now housed in the National Library of Israel, and includes a remarkable series of recollections that Lieberman shared with him in the summer of 1979.^[26]

To my astonishment, however, two concrete pieces of evidence that have come to light in recent years in the course of my research on Lieberman do more than merely gesture toward the plausibility of the account. They substantially corroborate it. The first emerged many years ago in the main library of Yeshivat Mercaz HaRav – a library endowed in the name of Markus Cohn, the father of Arthur Cohn, the eminent Hollywood producer who passed away only recently.^[27]

On the first volume of The Yerushalmi According to Its Plain Meaning (Ha-Yerushalmi Ke-Peshuto) (also the last, for Lieberman ultimately decided to abandon his projected commentary on the Yerushalmi and to turn instead to the Tosefta, on which he produced his monumental Tosefta Ke-Peshutah), there appears a dedication that Lieberman wrote to Rav Kook, composed, as was customary, in rabbinic idiom and in abbreviations:

“In honor of our master, the rabbi of the Land of Israel and of all the Diaspora, the Gaon Rav A.I.H. Kook, may he live a long and good life, with feelings of admiration and respect, from the author.”

Attention should be paid to the date on which these words were written. The work was published in 5695 (1935). Lieberman signed his introduction at the beginning of that year, on Sunday, 7 Tishrei 5695, between Rosh Ha-Shanah and Yom Kippur, corresponding to 16 September 1934.

Obviously, the printing also took a certain period, probably a few months.

Greater precision can be established regarding the date of publication. A notice announcing the appearance of Ha-Yerushalmi Ke-Peshuto was printed on the front page of Kol Yisrael, the organ of Agudat Israel in Jerusalem (edited by Rabbi Moshe Blau), on 8 Kislev 5695 (15 November 1934). The advertisement’s conspicuous placement on the newspaper’s front page indicates that the volume had only recently emerged from the press and was then being introduced to the reading public. It therefore provides a reliable terminus post quem for any presentation of the work to Rav Kook.

Lieberman therefore could not have presented the book to Rav Kook before that date. The possible window is accordingly narrow: from mid-November 1934 until the onset of Rav Kook’s final illness around Passover 5695 (April 1935). It is thus plausible that Lieberman brought the newly printed volume to him on the eve of Purim of that year, perhaps as mishlo’aḥ manot, or shortly beforehand, and that Rav Kook, in return, presented him with a copy of Rosh Milin bearing the distinctive Purim dedication.

Rav Kook passed away in Elul of that year. Approximately six months earlier, around Passover, he had contracted his final illness and was already confined to his deathbed in a state of severe suffering. Consequently, even had Lieberman wished to do so, he could only have presented him with the work during the brief period at the beginning of that year, from the book’s publication until Passover.

The second surprise came to my attention several years ago, when a friend sent me a photograph of the title page of Rav Kook’s small and enigmatic kabbalistic work, a copy of which was in his possession.

The work, Rosh Milin, on the Hebrew letters, was written in 1917, during Rav Kook’s exile in London in the course of the First World War.^[28] Thus did Rav Kook write, in the affectionate dedication he inscribed to his young colleague and ḥavruta:

“A gift of true love to the chosen of my heart, Rabbi Saul Lieberman, may he live a long and good life. Abraham Isaac, the small [i.e., the humble one]. Purim of the unwalled cities, 5695 [1935].”

Anyone familiar with the dedications and expressions of esteem that Rav Kook addressed to various individuals, including leading Torah scholars, will recognize that the phrase he wrote to Lieberman, “true love to the chosen of my heart,” is striking in its exceptional character.

Incidentally, Gershom Scholem later related that, despite his expertise in Kabbalah, he did not succeed in understanding Rosh Milin. He further added – “on the testimony of trustworthy informants,” by which he meant his close friend Saul Lieberman (and he even recorded the remark in his personal copy of the book, now preserved in the National Library of Israel) – that Rav Kook himself told Lieberman:

“Regarding this book, the author [i.e., Rav Kook] said to my friend Saul Lieberman, shortly before his death – when he presented him with a copy as a gift – that he now does not understand a single word of what he wrote in it, even though at the time of writing he fully grasped the meaning and intent of the matters.”^[29]

Although Lieberman was as far removed from engagement with Kabbalah as east is from west, he once gave memorable expression to this distance when asked to introduce a lecture by his close friend Gershom Scholem. Lieberman opened his remarks with an immortal quip about Scholem’s field of research, Kabbalah and Jewish mysticism: “Nonsense is nonsense, but the study of nonsense may be a science….”^[30] Nevertheless, Rav Kook chose, of all his writings, to present Lieberman with this particular book as a gift, perhaps so that it might serve as a kind of “amulet,” or perhaps as an act of Purim mischief on the part of the aged rabbi; we cannot know.

The unusual date recorded in the dedication, “Purim of the unwalled cities, 5695,” suggests that the booklet was presented to Lieberman on that very occasion, when, according to the account, he chose to collect the aged Rav Kook’s “debt” during their joint study session, perhaps their last, on Purim of that year.

It is entirely plausible that on that occasion Lieberman brought Rav Kook his newly published work, The Yerushalmi According to Its Plain Meaning, and that in return Rav Kook presented him with mishlo’aḥ manot in the form of his small and enigmatic book.

Thus the Jerusalem legend seems to acquire flesh and sinew, and what once appeared to be no more than a charming anecdote may in fact preserve a genuine historical memory: a literary mishlo’aḥ manot exchanged between two towering figures, in which Torah, affection, and Purim playfulness were delicately intertwined.

Appendix A: Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria’s Archival Notes on Saul Lieberman’s Recollections of Rav Kook (Summer 1979)

The following translation is based on Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria’s handwritten notes preserved in his personal archive, currently housed in the National Library of Israel (Jerusalem). The notes record a conversation held during Summer 1979 in which Rabbi Professor Saul Lieberman recounted a series of episodes relating to Rav Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook and the influence that Rav Kook exerted upon him. The material corresponds in its essentials to passages later published by Rabbi Neria, but the archival version preserves additional details and a more expansive formulation of Lieberman’s testimony.

Rabbi Neria was accustomed to preserving every scrap of paper containing substantive content that passed through his hands. Alongside newspaper clippings in which several articles about Lieberman appeared, Rabbi Neria preserved the remarks he heard directly from him in the summer of 5739 (1979). According to his account, Lieberman requested that he telephone him in the early morning (“from eight o’clock onward I disconnect the telephone, lock the door, and engage in my Talmudic study without interruptions”), and he did so.

Lieberman told Rabbi Neria that his first visit to Rav Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook took place on the night of Shavuot:

“I heard that he was teaching Sefer ha-Mitzvot [i.e., Maimonides’ Book of the Commandments]. I came and sat down by the table. In the course of the study I made a remark, and the Rav answered me briefly. Later I made another remark, and again I received a brief reply. When I remarked upon his words a third time, the Rav turned to me and said: ‘Come in to me tomorrow.’ When I came after the festival, the Rav received me with great warmth, asked about my family, and it emerged that he knew several rabbis among my relatives. After a Torah conversation, he asked that I come to him frequently, and thus I did. On the way to the Rav’s visit to the Gerrer Rebbe (to R. Neḥemyah’le [??]), the Rav delayed at my apartment and became engrossed in a halakhic give-and-take concerning a matter I was then studying. I would come and present my novellae before him, ask about what had been difficult for me, and the like. His warm attitude toward me greatly encouraged me. He had a mystical influence upon me, even though I am far from mysticism. I had ‘tests,’ and he influenced me to remain in the study of Torah.”

Lieberman recounted to Rabbi Neria one such “test.” According to his account, a dispute arose between Rabbi Fishman [i.e., R. Yehudah Leib Maimon] and Bank Mizraḥi. The parties decided to submit to arbitration before attorney Mordechai Eliash. Lieberman represented Rabbi Fishman, whereas the bank was represented by attorney Mordechai Levanon. Rav Kook summoned Lieberman and instructed him to cease representing him in the arbitration:

“You have acquired a reputation for involving yourself in arbitration, and that will draw you away from your learning.”

Rabbi Neria further adds and cites in Lieberman’s name words of admiration and reverence for Rav Kook:

“Not only did his greatness in Torah exert influence – and he knew the entirety of Torah – but his entire personality. Matters of the people of Israel and the Land of Israel were not for him merely pathetic rhetoric; rather, they overflowed from his depths, from his hidden world, and there was something mystical in it. This was a figure overflowing with light, and his light would penetrate in its own ways… The Rav was an artist. Not merely a man with poetic sensibility, but truly an artist. In his writing there is a sacred grandeur. His words are like the tones of the shofar’s sound. The ease of his writing is astonishing, yet it is the result of abundant knowledge. They once told of a certain wealthy man who marveled at the request of a great painter to receive an enormous sum of money for a sketch he drew within ten minutes. ‘Not so,’ replied the painter; ‘I labored sixty years in order to attain an ability to draw in such a manner.’”

According to Rabbi Neria, Lieberman told him that he was occupied with printing Ḥasdei David, the commentary of R. David Pardo on the Tosefta, and that through printing his own work on Seder Ṭohorot he repaid his debt…

In this context Lieberman added:

“I also must repay a debt to the Rav [i.e., Kook]. He greatly encouraged me in the study of the Jerusalem Talmud. Several times I presented before him my Torah insights in elucidating difficult passages in the Jerusalem Talmud, and he took great pleasure in them.”

In response to Rabbi Neria’s question, “Was the Rav [i.e., Kook] as proficient in the Jerusalem Talmud as in the Babylonian?” Lieberman replied:

“The Rav was proficient in everything: Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmud, Tosefta and Midrashim, Rishonim and decisors. The Rav was the only one who encompassed the entirety of Torah, and this influenced his encompassing vision. The Rav’s vast scope contributed greatly to the richness of his personality. This was also the greatness of the Netziv, who knew the whole of Torah. I am deeply impressed by the Netziv. So too was R. Meir Simḥah [of Dvinsk, author of Or Sameaḥ].”

In this connection, Rabbi Neria cited words written by Rav Kook:

“The originality of the ‘ever-strengthening spring’ and the ‘river that does not cease’ (Avot, beginning of ch. 6) is the primary aspiration of one who engages in Torah for its own sake, which comes from divine cleaving. The inner spiritual bond with that which is all, the source of all, and beyond all. The desire filled with purity, which steadily intensifies to absorb the distilled essence of the supernal sap within the supernal realms—these are they who always seek the ennobled renewal in its vigorous force” (Iggerot ha-Ra’ayah, vol. 3, p. 4).

(“The Rav’s [i.e., Kook’s] vast scope contributed greatly to the richness of his personality. His opponents fought against him because they recognized his power, because they knew his greatness.”) According to Rabbi Neria, Lieberman described the Rav’s words as expressing a “sacred grandeur.”

Rabbi Neria further relates, in Lieberman’s name, that in the summer of 5690 (1930) Rabbi Moshe Ostrovsky came to the apartment where Rav Kook was staying in Kiryat Moshe in order to pressure him to agree to the compromise proposal then being circulated, according to which the people of Israel would relinquish part of their rights in the Land of Israel, including at the Western Wall. Lieberman was present. The visitor wished that he leave the room so that he could speak with Rav Kook privately; however, Rav Kook detained Lieberman and instructed him to continue sitting there.

Years later, after the passing of Rav Kook, Rabbi Neria heard at a memorial gathering held in the Jewish Agency building that Rav Kook had told Rabbi Ostrovsky:

“The people of Israel has not empowered any person to relinquish the Western Wall. If we relinquish it, the Holy One, blessed be He, will not wish to restore it to us.”

Rabbi Neria testifies that while he lived in Jerusalem in the 1930s, Rabbi Professor Saul Lieberman would customarily pray on the High Holy Days together with the students of Yeshivat Merkaz ha-Rav, who had established their place of prayer at Yeshivat Etz Ḥayyim in the Maḥaneh Yehudah neighborhood.

Among other matters, Rabbi Neria wrote down what he heard from Lieberman regarding his shared study with Rav Kook, and according to what is stated there. The accounts found in Rabbi Neria’s handwritten notes correspond in their essentials to what he later presented in his book.

Alongside them, I found in this archive and in additional archives details concerning Lieberman’s involvement, at the request of his friend (and relative) Rachel Yanait Ben-Zvi, wife of the late President Yitzḥak Ben-Zvi, in the establishment of a yeshivat hesder in Peki’in. Within this framework he approached Rabbi M. Z. Neria and asked him to assist in realizing the idea in practice. Concerning this episode I intend to write, God willing, elsewhere.

Notes

I would like to express my sincere gratitude to my friend and colleague Mr. Menachem Butler, who devoted considerable effort to translating and editing this article into English. I am also grateful for his valuable contributions, including bibliographical references and precise citations.

1. See Harold Fisch, “Reading and Carnival: On the Semiotics of Purim,” Poetics Today, vol. 15, no. 1 (Spring 1994): 55-74. ↑
2. See, for example Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, “Cross Dressing for Special Occasions,” in Joseph R. Hacker, Yosef Kaplan, and B.Z. Kedar, eds., Rishonim ve-Aharonim, From Sages to Savants: Studies Presented to Avraham Grossman (Jerusalem: Shazar, 2010), 329-352 (Hebrew), available here; and Gedalia Oberlander, “The Custom of Disguising Oneself on Purim,” Or Yisrael, vol. 2, no. 3 [#7] (April 1997):125-131 (Hebrew), available here; Moshe Leib Halberstadt, “Costumes on Purim and at Various Events,” Yerushatenu, vol. 5 (2011): 169-175 (Hebrew). ↑
3. See Shamma Friedman, “Erasing Haman,” Leshonenu, vol. 61, no. 3 (June 1998): 259-263 (Hebrew), available here; Daniel Sperber, “Destroying the Name of Haman,” Shana be-Shana, vol. 32 (2001): 203-211 (Hebrew), available here; and Daniel Sperber, How To Strike Haman (Jerusalem: The Wolfson Museum of Jewish Art, 2002; Hebrew), available here. For a comprehensive survey of the halakhic and historical sources concerning this custom, see Eliezer Brodt, “The Pros and Cons of Making Noise When Haman’s Name is Mentioned: A Historical Perspective (updated),” The Seforim Blog (22 March 2016), available here. ↑
4. See Dan Rabinowitz, “Purim, Mixed Dancing, and Kill Joys,” The Seforim Blog (6 March 2006), available here. ↑
5. See Elliott Horowitz, Reckless Rites: Purim and the Legacy of Jewish Violence (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2006). ↑
6. Esther 9:22. ↑
7. Megillah 7a. ↑
8. See Alan Appelbaum, “Why the Rabbis of the Yerushalmi Called R. Judah Nesiah ‘a Great Man’?” Journal of Ancient Judaism, vol. 3, no. 3 (December 2012): 339-365. ↑
9. One can hardly help but wonder how long it will be before a kunṭres devoted to the halakhic parameters of re-gifting mishlo’aḥ manot appears, if indeed one has not already been published, systematically treating such questions as whether the initial recipient must effect a formal kinyan; whether the mitzvah requires that the gift be given mi-shelo (“from one’s own”); the respective roles of the giver’s kavvanah and the recipient’s awareness; the permissibility of re-gifting absent the donor’s consent (da‘at ba‘alim); whether the obligation may be discharged through an intermediary (shaliaḥ); whether one may fulfill the mitzvah with an item received earlier that same day; and whether a package that circulates through multiple hands constitutes mishlo’aḥ manot at all, or merely an elaborate exercise in communal redistribution, together with the host of subsidiary questions such a case inevitably generates. ↑
10. For more on this practice, see Meir Wunder, “Books as Mishlo’aḥ Manot,” Moriah, vol. 5, no. 5-6 [#53-54] (November 1973 – January 1974): 83-86 (Hebrew); and Tovia Preschel, “Mishlo’aḥ Manot of Books from Authors,” ha-Doar, vol. 53, no. 19 (8 March 1974): 295 (Hebrew). ↑
11. I am currently at work on a biography of Professor Saul Lieberman; for now, my earlier writings on him, see Aviad Hacohen, “Two Scholars Who Were in Our City: Correspondence between Saul Lieberman and Jacob David Abramsky,” ha-Tsofeh Literary Supplement (21 April 1984): 5 (Hebrew), available here; Aviad Hacohen, “Schlemiel, Schlimazel, and Nebbich: Letters from Saul Lieberman to Gershom and Fania Scholem,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (25 April 2000): H1 (Hebrew) , available here; Aviad Hacohen, “The Tannah from New York: A Selection of Professor Saul Lieberman’s Letters,” Jewish Studies, no. 42 (2003): 289-301 (Hebrew), available here; Aviad Hacohen, “Six Days and Seven Gates: Between Israeli President Izhak Navon and Professor Rabbi Saul Lieberman,” Oneg Shabbat (9 June 2023), available here; Aviad Hacohen, “Lieberman Kifshuto: Personal Letters Revealing the Sensitive and Playful Side of a Talmudic Genius, On the 40th Yahrzeit of Professor Saul Lieberman,” Makor Rishon, Sabbath Supplement, no. 1338: Parashat Tzav (31 March 2023): 8-11 (Hebrew), available here; Aviad Hacohen, “The Generation Did Not Appropriately and Duly Appreciate Mr. Schocken [Eulogy by Rabbi Prof. Saul Lieberman for Shlomo Zalman Schocken, March 1960],” Haaretz Literary Supplement (28 April 2024): 1 (Hebrew), available here; Aviad Hacohen, “The Story of the Rabbi Who Rejected the Maxim: ‘Torah Scholars Increase Peace in the World’,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (25 May 2023): 8 (Hebrew), available here; and Aviad Hacohen, “‘A Lithuanian Mind in Its Lithuanian Essence, From Volozhin to Jerusalem’: R. Shaul Lieberman’s Intellectual Kinship with the Legacy of Lithuanian Torah & Its Bearers,” in Martin S. Cohen, ed., Essays in Jewish Studies in Honor of Rabbi Prof. David Golinkin (Jerusalem: Schechter, 2025), 101-139 (Hebrew), available here. ↑
12. See Shmuel Glick and Menachem Katz, “‘A Threefold Cord’: On Saul Lieberman and His Relationship with the Hazon Ish and Jacob Nahum Epstein,” in Shmuel Glick, Evelyn M. Cohen, Angelo M. Piattelli, et al., eds., Meḥevah le-Menaḥem: Studies in Honor of Menahem Hayyim Schmelzer (Jerusalem: Schocken, 2019), 269-289 (Hebrew). ↑
13. See Saul Lieberman, “Ten Words,” in Texts and Studies (New York: Ktav, 1974), [1-20], where Lieberman refers explicitly to “my teacher, Prof. Moshe Schwabe, of blessed memory,” and describes Schwabe’s long-standing aspiration to produce a new dictionary of Greek and Latin loanwords in rabbinic literature. For the subsequent realization of this lexicographical program in systematic form, see Daniel Sperber, A Dictionary of Greek and Latin Legal Terms in Rabbinic Literature (Ramat-Gan: Bar-Ilan University Press, 1984); Daniel Sperber, My Rabbinic Loanwords Card Index of More Than a Half-Century: A Companion Volume to Professor Samuel Krauss’ Griechische und Lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch und Targum, ed. Menachem Butler (Cambridge, MA: Shikey Press, 2022), esp. the introduction, available here, where Sperber describes the work as the product of “more than fifty-years of collection and research,” originally conceived as an annotated continuation of Krauss’s Lehnwörter, and acknowledges Lieberman’s personal role in encouraging his philological work, noting that Lieberman “adopted me as his disciple in this field.” Sperber also reproduces a letter of approbation from Lieberman dated 19 Shevat 5738 (27 January 1978), praising Sperber’s “objective evaluation of Krauss’s volume” and commending the “great progress” reflected in his conclusions. ↑
14. A fine “real-time” description of his path during those years appears in a letter written at the time by his father-in-law, Rabbi Meir Bar-Ilan, leader of the Mizrachi movement. Writing to his son Tuvia (a chemist and later the first Director-General of Bar-Ilan University) on 25 Marḥeshvan 5694 (5 November 1933), Bar-Ilan remarked“…And so, my dear, everything I have found here: outwardly nothing has changed in our home, but inwardly part of our apartment has been transformed into a beit midrash. For our Shaul sits and engages in Torah and scholarship with remarkable diligence. Your small room has been turned into a library, for Shaul has many books – among them items of precious value – and there he labors over them, if I am not mistaken, some ten hours a day and at night. Apart from those hours in which he teaches at the Teachers’ Seminary and at the university – only twice a week – he sits “over Torah and avodah.” He is engaged in writing a great book [this refers to Ha-Yerushalmi Kifshuto, published in 5695 (1935)], which, upon its completion and publication, will, it seems to me, renew a momentum among Talmudic circles and scholars of Israel with respect to the Jerusalem Talmud. Shaul is great – loftier than I had known – “full and overflowing” in an excellent measure; his knowledge is astonishing and his intellect clear, and beyond this he is an outstandingly diligent scholar. I do not know whether he will persist in his diligence, for it is possible that only on account of his literary work does he not divert his mind from his studies, but at present he continues his work with diligence and industriousness…” ↑
15. See, recently, Moshe Assis, Saul Lieberman’s Marginalia on Talmud Yerushalmi (Jerusalem: Carmel, 2022; Hebrew). ↑
16. On Judith Berlin Lieberman’s lineage, intellectual formation, and educational career, see Judith Berlin Lieberman, Autobiography and Reflections, eds. Menachem Butler and Abraham Lieberman (Cambridge, MA: Shikey Press, 2022), available here. See especially the autobiographical memoir (pp. 20-38) and the introductory essay by her nephew Hillel Halkin (pp. 15-19). ↑
17. See Aviad Hacohen, “‘Honey and Milk Are Under His Tongue, Yet Beneath It Burns a Blazing Fire’: On the Relationship between S.Y. Agnon and Saul Lieberman,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (6 October 2023): 7 (Hebrew), available here. ↑
18. See Aviad Hacohen, “Schlemiel, Schlimazel, and Nebbich – Letters from Saul Lieberman to Gershom and Fania Scholem,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (25 April 2000): H1 (Hebrew), available here. ↑
19. See Aviad Hacohen, “The Generation Did Not Appropriately and Duly Appreciate Mr. Schocken [Eulogy by Rabbi Prof. Saul Lieberman for Shlomo Zalman Schocken, March 1960],” Haaretz Literary Supplement (28 April 2024): 1 (Hebrew), available here. ↑
20. See, for example, Menahem Zulay, “The Research Institute for Hebrew Poetry,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (31 October 1947): 9 (Hebrew); and A.M. Habermann, “Salman Schocken and The Research Institute for Hebrew Poetry: On His Fifth Anniversary of His Death,” Haaretz Literary Supplement (17 July 1964): 13 (Hebrew). ↑
21. See Aviad Hacohen, “If every Sabbath were like Yom Kippur: An Interview with Haim Cohn,” Meimad, no. 17 (August 1999): 12-15 (Hebrew), available here; and Aviad Hacohen, “Apikores with Divine Grace – Review of ‘Being Jewish: Culture, Law, Religion, State’, by Haim Cohn,” ha-Tsofeh Literary Supplement (27 April 2007): 10, 13 (Hebrew), available here; and see also Azriel Carlebach, “The Rav Renowned for Halakhic Expertise,” Maariv Literary Supplement (19 February 1956): 4 (Hebrew), and Haim Cohn, “The Yeshiva of Rav Kook,” in Haim Cohn, A Personal Introduction: Autobiography, ed. Michal Smoira-Cohn (Kinneret: Dvir, 2005), 96-102 (Hebrew). ↑
22. Ari (Yitzchak) Chwat, “Rabbi Kook’s Connections with Prof. Rabbi Saul Lieberman as a Model for His Attitude Towards Critical Torah Research,” Tzohar, vol. 35 (2009): 59-66 (Hebrew), is especially important for situating the Rav Kook-Lieberman relationship within the broader question of Rav Kook’s principled openness to rigorous philological and historical methods in Torah study, and for treating Lieberman as a case study for the category Rav Kook termed ḥokhmat yisrael be-qedushatah. For further development of this concept, see Ari (Yitzchak) Chwat, “‘Hokhmat Yisrael in Its Holiness’: Rav Kook’s Vision for True Critical-Scientific Study,” Talelei Orot, vol. 13 (2007): 943-976 (Hebrew). ↑
23. The letter, preserved in the Professor Ephraim E. Urbach Archive at the National Library of Israel in Jerusalem, is scheduled for publication in my forthcoming volume, Pirkei Shaul, which, God willing, is expected to appear in the coming year. ↑
24. Many stories concerning Lieberman’s extraordinary powers of memory circulated among people already during his lifetime. One of the sages of Jerusalem, who sought to clarify the difference between Lieberman and other great Torah scholars endowed with remarkable mnemonic ability, described it as follows: “So-and-so, the gaon, knows the entire Talmud by heart. Say to him a particular word, and he will immediately tell you where it appears throughout the whole of the Talmud. Lieberman is greater than he: he can tell you with certainty that a particular word does not appear anywhere in the entire Talmud…” ↑
25. See Moshe Tzvi Neria, “From the Testimony of Rabbi Saul Lieberman,” in Likkutei ha-Ra’ayah, ed. Moshe Tzvi Neria, vol. 2 (Kefar ha-Ro’eh: 1990), 336–341 (Hebrew), which preserves a version of the Rosh Milin anecdote attributed to Lieberman (based on an interview conducted by Neria in Summer 1981), though without the later bibliographic framing and transmission history found in Scholem’s formulation. Neria’s presentation should also be situated within his broader editorial enterprise of collecting and disseminating Rav Kook-related reminiscences for a wide Hebrew readership, both in his books and in his ha-Tsofeh newspaper columns in the Religious Zionist press. ↑
26. For a translated excerpt from Rabbi Neria’s handwritten archival notes recording his 1979 conversation with Saul Lieberman, see Appendix A below. ↑
27. See Yair Sheleg, “King Arthur: Members of the Family of Arthur Cohn, Who Passed Away Last Week, Recount His Scrupulous Observance of the Sabbath Even on the Most Prestigious Stages, and His Profound Love for the State of Israel, Expressed Not Only Through Generous Donations,” Makor Rishon, Sabbath Supplement: Parashat Vayigash (25 December 2025; Hebrew), available here. ↑
28. See Aaron Ahrend, “About Rav Kook’s ‘Rosh Millin’,” Da’at, no. 27 (Summer 1991): 73-85 (Hebrew), available here; and Aaron Ahrend, “Further on Rav Kook’s ‘Rosh Millin’,” Sinai, vol. 110 (June – July 1992): 190-192 (Hebrew), available here. ↑
29. Zvi Leshem, “‘He Does Not Understand a Single Word of What He Wrote’: Gershom Scholem and Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook – A Story of a Marginal Note,” Ha-Safranim, Blog of the National Library of Israel (19 August 2019), available here and here.Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria transmitted these remarks in the name of Saul Lieberman himself. See Moshe Tzvi Neria, “From the Testimony of Rabbi Saul Lieberman,” in Likkutei ha-Ra’ayah, ed. Moshe Tzvi Neria, vol. 2 (Kefar ha-Ro’eh: 1990), 339 (Hebrew). On the affinity between the Rav Kook and Saul Lieberman, see ibid., pp. 92, 337-341, 369. From there also in Elijah J. Schochet and Solomon J. Spiro, Saul Lieberman: The Man and His Work (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 2005), 52-53, 101. ↑
30. See Daniel Abrams, “Defining Modern Academic Scholarship: Gershom Scholem and the Establishment of a New Discipline,” The Journal of Jewish Thought and Philosophy, vol. 9 (2000): 267-302, esp. 268n1, where he writes:“Lieberman’s statement has been circulating as an oral tradition amongst scholars and students of the Jewish Theological Seminary. The only printed reference to it I have found is offered by Joseph Dan in his “The Revelation of the Secret of the World: The Beginning of Jewish Mysticism in Late Antiquity” (Brown University Program in Judaic Studies, Occasional Paper Number 2, Providence 1992, p. 3): “We all know that mysticism is nonsense, but the history of mysticism is a science.” See however Lieberman’s article “How much Greek in Jewish Palestine,” Biblical and Other Studies, ed. A. Altmann, Cambridge, Mass. 1962, p. 135 [reprinted in Texts and Studies, New York 1974, p. 22), Lieberman offered the following formulation: “Nonsense is nonsense, but the history of nonsense is a very important science. In certain respects it is more revealing than the history of sciences based on reason.” (see also Mortimer Ostow, Ultimate Intimacy; the Psychodynamics of Jewish Mysticism, London 1995, p. 362) Lieberman apparently regretted his statement and wrote an appendix for Scholem’s Jewish Gnosticism based on these lectures.” ↑

“Milta De’Bedichuta”: Some Playful Parodies of the Talmud in the Modern Period

By Ezra Brand

6-Mar-23

Ezra Brand is an independent researcher based in Tel Aviv. He has an MA from Revel Graduate School at Yeshiva University in Medieval Jewish History, where he focused his research on 13th and 14th century sefirotic Kabbalah. He is interested in using digital and computational tools in historical research. He has contributed a number of times previously to the Seforim Blog (tag), and a selection of his research can be found at his Academia.edu profile. He can be reached at ezrabrand@gmail.com; any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.

Intro

The origins of Jewish humor are debated, with some linking it to Eastern Europe and others to a more distant time and place. Recognition of Jewish humor as first-rate gained popularity at the end of the 19th century.[1]

I previously wrote on the Seforim Blog about humor in the Talmud.[2] In this piece, my focus will be on parodies of the Gemara written for Purim, known as “Purim Dafs”. Roni Cohen, at the beginning of his 2021 dissertation on Medieval Parodies for Purim, describes the earliest known parodies on the Talmud written for the holiday of Purim:

The first, Massekhet Purim (Purim tractate), is a parody of the Talmud written by the Provençal translator, philosopher, and writer Kalonymos ben Kalonymos, during the period he lived in Rome, between 1324 – 1328. The other two – Megilat Setarim (esoteric scroll), a parody on the Talmud and Sefer Habakbuk (the book of Habakbuk), a parody of the Hebrew Bible – were both written by the Provençal philosopher, astronomer, and bible commentator Rabbi Levi ben Gerson (Gersonides) in 1332.[3]

When written for Purim, the Talmud parodies are often known as “Purim Dafs”. This is something I tried my hand at when I was in yeshiva.[4]

In this piece I’d like to give a number of examples of modern parodies of the Talmud, collected from various locations on the web, listed in chronological order of date first published.[5]

מסכת פורים: מן תלמוד שכורים (1814) ⁶

A satirical discussion of the laws of drinking on Purim.

מסכת עניות מן תלמוד רש עלמא (1878)⁷

A satirical halachic discussion of laws of poverty.

מסכת עמיריקא: מן תלמוד ינקאי (1892) ⁸

A satirical halachic discussion of living in America.

מסכת שטרות (1894) ⁹

A satirical halachic discussion of who can sign contracts.

מסכת דרך ארץ החדשה: מתלמודא דארעא חדתא (1898)^10[10]

A satirical halachic discussion of living in America.

מסכת סוחרים (1900)^[11]

A satirical halachic discussion of the laws of merchants.

מסכת אדמונים מן תלמוד בולשבי (1923)^[12]

A satirical discussion of the trivial differences between the socialist Bolsheviks (“red”) and the monarchic Mensheviks (“white”) in the Russian Civil War, which started in 1917.

מסכת פרוהבישן מן תלמוד בטלי (1929)^[13]

A satirical halachic discussion of the laws of drinking alcohol during the period of Prohibition in the United States, which started in 1920.

מסכת פורים תו שין טית וו (1955)^[14]

A satirical halachic and aggadic discussion of Israeli elections.

מסכת המן (1975)^[15]

A satirical halachic discussion regarding Haman.

מסכת אב”כ שומע קול צופר (1991)^[16]

A satirical halachic discussion of wearing of gas masks during the Iraqi rocket attacks on Israel during First Gulf War in 1991.

הדאנאלד (2016)^[17]

A satirical discussion of the Trump wall.

מסכת קורונא פרק ב’ (2021)^[18]

This parody is a satirical halachic and aggadic discussion surrounding coronavirus, during the COVID-19 pandemic.