Recent Notes On Hebrew Pronunciation

By Rabbi Avi Grossman

Edited by Mr. Jonathan Grossman 

Many of the ideas discussed in this article were in my notebook for some time, and just as I was getting around to preparing them for publication, my prolific colleague Rabbi Reuven Chaim Klein sent a copy of Professor Geoffrey Khan’s The Tiberian Pronunciation Tradition of Biblical Hebrew to me. After reading it and briefly corresponding with the author, I concluded that it was time to release this article. Professor Khan invites the yeshiva world to read his book, available for free at this link, and to check out his website. Full disclosure: although Prof. Khan’s research is enlightening, not only do I not agree with or endorse everything he claims, I do not believe that certain points are admissible as halachic sources in the Bet Midrash. 

With regards to the details of halachic pronunciation, I have already released my own book wherein I try to show how the rishonim would pronounce Tiberian Hebrew, and I direct readers to Rabbi Bar Hayim’s videos on the subject. Rabbi Bar Hayim follows the views of Rabbi Benzion Cohen. All of us are attempting to recreate something that we cannot really know, and for now, we still have to debate the fine details. I seriously doubt that the Masoretes spoke a ritual Hebrew that sounded exactly the way any of us describes it. 

Before getting into the nitty gritty of Prof. Khan’s arguments, I would like to introduce some basic ideas that can be gleaned from an elementary, comparative study of Arabic.

A few years ago I took some classes in modern spoken Arabic, which I hoped would help me begin to read Maimonides’s original writings. Aside from helping me realize how there is so much I have to learn about that language, it helped me learn more about Biblical Hebrew. Fifteen years ago, when I started working on what would become my aforementioned book about Masoretic Hebrew, I wondered about certain missing consonants. Thankfully, those and many other questions I had have been somewhat answered, and I now wish to present some of my own findings. I realize that for some, these may not be so novel, but my intention is to bring them to the attention of those in the yeshiva world who, for whatever reason, would enjoy learning about this but will not come across these issues in their regular courses of study.

Concerning the Consonants:

Arabic has only a cursive form, unlike our Hebrew which has had over the course of time many forms, including the common, Assyrian block form and the various cursive forms, which thanks to the advent of modern-Hebrew education has become much more standardized. Also, many letters have up to four forms: the isolated (stand-alone) form, the initial form, which the letter takes at the beginning of the word or in the middle of the word when the previous letter is cursively non-connective, the medial form, and the final form. For some letters, there is significant overlap. See a chart here, for instance. 

The Arabic letter alif is basically the Hebrew alef, but it is used much more often as a mater lectionis, the Latin translation of the Hebrew אם קריאה. (See below.) 

The Arabic equivalent of bet, ba, is always strong, meaning that in most forms of Arabic there is no letter that represents the weak bet sound, that of V, while the Arabic equivalent of pei, fa, is always weak, and never strong.This means that in most forms of Arabic there is no letter that represents the strong pei sound, that of P. Thus, many native Arabic speakers have a hard time pronouncing foreign words that have the P or V sounds. Today, in Israel at least, the solution is to use the stop, B, to also represent the P, thus giving us words like بيانو, biano, for piano, while the V sound is a variant of the fa, ف, and sometimes it is marked with three dots on top instead of one to indicate the V. Consequently, Israelis who pronounce their surnames that begin with vav in the standard, European-influenced accent, e.g. Vaynshtain instead of Weinstein, have the Arabs spell their names with a variant of fa. 

Unlike in Hebrew, the diacritical dots you find above and below certain Arabic letters are not vocalizations but rather critical components of the letters. It seems that early on the diacritics were used to distinguish between alternate sounds created by single letters, like the dagesh qal is and was used to distinguish between sounds made by single letters, while other letters originally had unique forms, but evolved into identical forms, and the diacritics were introduced in order to preserve the distinctions. The initial and medial forms of the Arabic letters ba, nun, ya (the equivalent of the Hebrew yod), and ta (the equivalent of the Hebrew tau) are orthographically identical and distinguished by the diacritics, the ba with one dot below, the ya with two; the nun with one above, and the ta with two, even though in all of the earlier Semitic alphabets, the equivalent consonants had distinct forms. This has made Arabic very receptive to new letters: it is very easy to modify an already existing letter form by adding anywhere from one to three dots as a superscript or subscript. In Hebrew, we still have not completely assimilated new consonantal symbols into new letters (the ג׳, ץ׳, ז׳, etc.), and the typical method of representing them looks out of place in context. 

Gimmel: In many languages, the hard G sound has been assimilated to a soft one, and this is as true in Arabic as it is with certain English words. However, the Arabic jim is not always pronounced like a J, which, as I pointed out in my book, is a combination of the D sound followed by a voiced shin (SH) sound, or the voiced equivalent of the CH sound achieved by clustering the T and SH sounds. Rather, jim makes the voiced shin sound (the G in massage) on its own. Also, the jim is still pronounced like a hard G in some countries, such as Egypt. 

Dal is the Arabic equivalent of our dalet, and it, like our dalet, has a weak, fricative counterpart, the dhal, (as in “the”), although unlike Hebrew, in which the weakness or strongness of the bet, gimmel, dalet, kaf, pei, or tau (the “beged kefet” letters) depends on the form of the word, and one set of rules governs all of these letters, in Arabic it seems that dal and dhal no longer have such a relationship, and as above, are now considered separate letters. 

The Arabic waw serves the same purposes as our vav. More on that soon. 

Het has its equivalent in the Arabic ha, while the sound of our kaf’s weak counterpart, khaf, appears in Arabic as a variation of the ha, pronounced kha, and the latter is represented by writing the former with an additional upper dot: ح and خ, respectively, while the one with a lower dot, ج, is the aforementioned jim. This seems to indicate that the weak sound of the khaf that distinguishes our Hebrew so much from English is a historical latecomer, and that while we first made it a variation of kaf, the Arabs made it a variation of het, and indeed, since in most Jewish circles the het is pronounced (incorrectly) as a khaf, perhaps the Arabs were just anticipating us. Many academics claim that the sound migrated; even in Hebrew the sound of the khaf was made by the het in certain words, but later, when all hets were pronounced alike, the sound was given to the weak kaf. This would explain why, for instance, certain proper nouns have been historically transliterated unusually. E.g., Jericho, Rachel, etc.

The Arabic counterpart of tet is the ta, but unlike our Hebrew tet which has no voiced counterpart, like tau has dalet and samech has zayin, the Arabic ta does have a voiced counterpart, the dad, ض, which is the D in words like Ramadan. Just like English transliterations of Hebrew commonly lose the distinction between tau and tet, they also lose the distinction between dal and dad, and in many systems used to teach Arabic to Hebrew speakers, they simplify the dad and tell them that just like they always pronounce the tet like a tau, they can pronounce the dad like a dal.

The Arabic counterpart of the yod is ya, and it pretty much behaves like the yod, but has traditionally been used as a mater lectionis even more than yod has. For example, many transliterations of Hebrew into Arabic not only use the ya to represent the Hebrew tzeirei, they even use the ya to represent the segol in open, accented syllables.

I was asked concerning the yod in second-person-possessive male suffixes, as in, for example בנֶיךָ ba-NE-cha: if the yod is not meant to be pronounced as part of the segol vowel, why is it even there? My proposed answer is that it is there to distinguish the singular from the plural, along the lines of the silent yod in the third person counterparts of those nouns, for example in בנָיו ba-NAW, which most never even get around to wondering why we do not pronounce as ba-NAYW. I believe that the yod in words such as בניו may have once been pronounced, and this explains the suffix’s relationship to its Aramaic counterpart, וֹהִיx or וֹיx. In essence, the two languages present the combined sound of the low vowel with the two semivowels, just that in Hebrew the Y sound preceded that of the W, whereas in Aramaic the W sound preceded the Y. Similarly, up until the common era, decisors would represent the western sound of “OW” (as in “brown” and Ashkenazi surnames with “baum” in them) in Yiddish and Yiddish-influenced written Hebrew as וֹי, “oy,” despite the inaccuracy. In any event, the silent yod in the plural possessive suffix is a critical indicator of the plural state, even more so than the potential vav of the holam in words like אבֹתֶיך  and עֹלֹתֵיכם. As a matter of fact, the vast majority of these words are written in the Torah with the yod and not the vav, and even when there is no need for a possessive or constructive suffix, the vav of the (generally) feminine plural suffix is usually omitted. Rather, the holam is usually written plene when the vav (or the yod that it replaces) is part of the root of the word. Thus, there is always a vav after the first tau in the word Torah (of the root yod-reish-silent hei) and its derivatives, but more often than not there is no vav after the reish indicating the plural of Torah.)

Sometimes, at the end of words, the alif is in the form of a ya minus the two lower dots that  distinguish the ya from the ta, ba and nun. Such an alif is called an alif maqsura (a “shortened alif”), and is often used in place of the ya that was part of the root word. See below for how this may relate to the phenomenon of the equivalency of yod and silent hei as the third letter of many Hebrew roots.

The Arabic counterpart of kaf, ka, is always strong. This would remind us of the instances in which the suffix khaf in Hebrew is strong, as in ארוממךָּ, although in spoken Arabic, what was once the sound of qamatz/patah after the suffix ka has now been placed before the kaf, such as in possessives that end with the sound “ak” instead of “ka.”  Similarly, the possessive suffix is pronounced “kha” in Hebrew, while in Aramaic it is pronounced as “akh.” 

The Arabic counterpart to lamed, lam, is often orthographically combined with the alif that precedes it or comes after it. Certain Hebrew printers would use a combined letter for alef and lamed; I do not know who learned from whom (no pun intended), or if it is just a coincidence. 

Samech has no true Arabic counterpart because the Arabic sin corresponds to both the Hebrew sin and samech. Considering how the samech–sin redundancy in other Semitic languages predates the Arabic’s language’s evolution, this is understandable. Yiddish also has this phenomenon: in native Yiddish words, only samech is used to represent the S sound, and the sin is only used for words that have their source in semitic languages. Rav Mazuz recently pointed out that in Rashi-era French, not only did the samech and sin sound like an S, but the shin also did, and this is why when Rashi invokes French, the shin is usually used for the S sound. 

Ayin exists also in Arabic, although orthographic variants thereof, specifically the addition of a diacritic dot above, changes the ayin to a ghayn. (I would have expected the aforementioned jim to therefore to be an orthographic variant of this letter instead of the ha.) Many have pointed out that early Greek translations of personal nouns such as ra’am, ‘amora and ‘aza have used the progenitor of the latin G, and this would indicate that Hebrew once had a similar dual use for the ayn symbol, and as Professor Khan has shown me, the jim was once actually the equivalent of a hard G, and still is in some places, so it would be a natural and eventual variant of the ghayn. 

Pei’s equivalent is the fa. It has this weak form, and never a strong form. As I wrote above, modern Israeli Arabic uses a new variant of the ba, but with three lower dots, to represent the P sound. 

The tzadi has the Arabic sad. Further, the sad has a voiced counterpart, ظـ, ẓāʾ, the most recently developed letter in the Arabic language, and the sad and tet are already variants of each other, with the ta being a sad with a vertical line. Strangely, the voiced counterpart of the ta is a sad with an extra dot, ضـ, while the voiced counterpart of the sad, the ẓāʾ, is a ta with a dot. I would have done the opposite. Years ago I wondered why Hebrew did not have these letters. I now realize that they are just too inconvenient, or else we could also expect to see the fricative forms of both the tet and the dad in Arabic. Thus, Arabic developed and maintained letters to represent many of the consonantal sounds that were either lost by spoken dialects of Hebrew, or were never present in Hebrew. Considering that the twenty-two-letter Hebrew alphabet is considered sacrosanct by the Hebrews, and that even the weak sounds from the six beged kefet letters did not earn their own letters, I do not believe we will see new Hebrew letters to represent these sounds any time soon, although the sound of the jim (represented in Modern Hebrew by ג׳) and the modern English CH (represented by צ׳), for instance, are today ubiquitous. I was prompted to think about this by my daughter, who, in second grade, was mindful enough to point out that her version of the Alphabet had both bet and vet, but Ashrei, as printed in her siddur, only had a verse for bet.

Modern Hebrew tutorials for spoken Arabic use the samech to represent the Arabic sad, because the samech is much closer to the way sad should be pronounced than the way the Modern Hebrew tzadi is, although on some street signs, proper nouns with sad’s are rendered with tzadi in Hebrew, e.g. the town of Musmus in the Galilee is מוצמוץ, which delighted my daughter. Also, the ubiquitous condiment hummus, although spelled חומוס in modern Hebrew, should be spelled חֻמֻץ to accurately reflect its Arabic spelling. There are even some families here in Israel that do not eat chickpeas on Passover not because they are legumes but because back in the old country, the word was too similar to חמץ, “leaven.”

Quf: Many people know that the Hebrew quf should be pronounced like the true Arabic quf, what the speech professionals call the voiceless uvular stop, or, to the rest of us, the sound made by pressing the tongue farther back in the mouth, but like the quf in Modern Hebrew, the Arabic quf has also suffered from neglect. In some places it is pronounced like a hard G, while in others it is pronounced like a K, as we do, and sometimes, especially in local dialects, it is not pronounced at all, and is basically treated like an alif. For example, local speakers refer to Jerusalem as al-uds instead of al-quds, and even al-uds often comes out as il-uts, all of the previous with a short vowel sound. Or the imperative of stand up is um instead of qum, and daqiqeh, minutes, becomes da’i’eh. 

Reish: The Arabic sign for reish is the zayn with an additional dot on top, which may indicate the closeness of the two sounds. According to Sefer Yetzira, the reish is produced by the teeth, just like the zayin and samech.  

Shin and sin are one symbol, with the shin having three dots on top. They both even resemble the Assyrian shin: س ش. The extra tails do not appear mid word.

Tau: Both the strong and weak tau have Arabic counterparts, the ta and tha, respectively, with the former with two dots, the latter with three. As we mentioned, the strength of the Hebrew beged kefet letters depends on a letter’s position in a given word, while in Arabic that is not the case. 

More interestingly, the ta has a common silent form, called “ta marbuta,” literally, a “sad ta,” that appears as the feminine suffix roughly equivalent to the qamatz-silent-hei suffix in Hebrew. Interestingly enough, this ta marbuta is silent, like our hei, and is even written as a ha but distinguished by the characteristic two dots on top, just like a ta. That is, orthographically it is a combination of ha and ta. Just like the Hebrew hei suffix becomes an actual tau in various construct states, the ta marbuta becomes an actual ta in construct states. For example, the Arabic word for automobile is sayara, while “his car” is sayarato. When we consider Hebrew, we often think of the silent hei as converting to tau in construct forms, whereas from this point of view, the tau can be considered the default letter, and the hei that exists in isolated forms is the simplified form. This explains, for instance, why we encounter words like zimrath as in עזי וזמרת י-ה and aqereth in מושיבי עקרת הבית are spelled with the tau although they are not in the construct state. (Hat tip: Rabbi Yedidya Naveh of Koren Publishers.)

This is reminiscent of the phenomenon in Hebrew that in certain roots, the final silent hei become a tau in certain conjugations, e.g. ראה is ראתה in the feminine, while in other conjugations it becomes a yod, e.g., as in ראיתי and ראינו. Had an alef been in those roots, it would have stayed in both types of conjugations: the feminine of ברא is ברָאת, and the first persons are בראתי and בראנו.

Concerning the possessive suffixes, in spoken Arabic the male form is as in Hebrew, an O sound, but it is written with a silent ha, reminiscent of uncommon instances where the mater lectionis is also hei for the holam, as in שלמֹה, שילֹה, אהלֹה, and סֻכֹּה. Whereas in Hebrew, the female possessive suffix is usually qamatz-nonsilent (mappiq) hei, and this is mostly overlooked in spoken Hebrew. I know of no one, (not even the usual professionals who otherwise pronounce things properly) who actually tries to pronounce the mappiq hei in conversation. The equivalent suffix in spoken Arabic is much easier to say, as it is written as ha-alif, and is pronounced as “ha.”

The lack of a local Arabic equivalent to the hard G sound made by gimmel has led to some interesting inconsistencies regarding how to spell Ben Gurion, which comes up often considering all the places named after him. Some spell his name with a jim, others with a ghayn, and others with the new, hard-G gim, the aforementioned jim but with three dots instead of one. The first version enjoys the precedent that the Hebrew gimmel has been represented by the Arabic jim, and it is up to the reader to know that historically both were pronounced as G, while the second version enjoys the precedent that foreign words with a hard G have been represented with a ghayn because vocally it is is closest to the hard-G sound. For example, in Arabic a gorilla is called a ghorilla. Indeed, in this case they would be pronouncing “Gurion” with a form of gimmel, just the weak form. I have noticed that, especially around the eponymous airport, all three Arabic spellings of Gurion are commonplace.

Otherwise, many Israeli street signs can be seen as the work of vigilant trolls, who mock the way most Jews pronounce the tzadi, vav, tet, and quf incorrectly. For example, the signs pointing to my town, Kochav Yaakov-Tel Zion, appear as they should in Hebrew, כוכב יעקב – תל ציון, but in Arabic they are rendered as كوخاڤ ياكوڤ تل تسيون, which, represented in Hebrew characters, is כּוכאבֿ יאכּובֿ תל תשיון. That is, although the Biblical name of Jacob has a well-known classical rendering in Arabic, because the Jews pronounce the ayin and quf as alef and kaf respectively, they are rendered as such, and the same with the tzadi of Zion, rendered ts because that is how it is pronounced. Similarly, place names with tet are transliterated with the counterpart of tau, ta, because that is how it is incorrectly pronounced. An example: טירת צבי, Tirat Zvi, is rendered by the Arabic equivalent of תיראת תשבֿי. Lastly, פתח תקוה is (thankfully) transliterated into formal English as Petah Tiqwa, but in Arabic it is   ‎بتاح تكفا, or in Hebrew characters, פּתאח תכּבֿא, although it would have been more egregious had they rendered the first word as פתאך.

The Vowels

The Arabic counterpart of the dagesh hazaq is the shadda, a small W or shin-like symbol written above the letter indicating its gemination. The counterpart of the sh’wa nah (silent sh’wa) indicating that the consonant closes the previous syllable is the sukkun, which appears as a small circle above the letter in question.  

As a general rule, the major vowels are represented with their plene spellings, while the minor vowels are defective, and the ya represents what sound like the Hebrew tzeirei and hiriq, while the waw represents the holam and shuruq sounds. However, there is more ambiguity with regard to the representations of the minor vowels: there is one vowel superscript symbol that represents the short patah sound, and not coincidentally it is called fat-ha, while a single waw-like superscript is used to represent both the equivalents of the qamatz qatan and qubbus, and a single subscript dash represents the equivalents of the short segol and hiriq. Surprisingly, accented, segols in open syllables are transliterated into Arabic also as plene. For example, Petah Tiqwa, above, is sometimes spelled with a yod after the pei equivalent, פיתאח. And, along those lines, many of the counterparts of the qamataz gadol are represented by an additional alןf, as are patahs in open-accented syllables. Thus, names like Ibrahim (Abraham) and Binyamin are written with alif’s after the reish and ya respectively, and in Israel place names with the words sha’ar and har are represented by the Arabic equivalents of האר and שאער. This far more liberal use of the alif to represent the presence of vowels is also characteristic of Yiddish, in which the alef has completely transformed from a mater lectionis into a vowel-letter, although I would be very grateful if someone could enlighten me as to why in Yiddish, our ancestors chose to represent the segol with the ayin. I cannot fathom even a tenuous connection between that particular vowel and the consonant.

Concerning mater lectionis it must be noted that although in many of the languages under discussion they are silent place holders that do not affect the pronunciation, once upon a time they did. It is not due to some arbitrary decision or convenience that the prophets chose to represent the holam and shuruq sounds, for example, with a waw. Rather, it is because the vav and yod once were, and often should still be, a natural, necessary, and logical component of the vowels’ pronunciations, and as I wrote about in my book, the true hiriq and shuruq sounds cannot be articulated without the natural semivowels that complete them, and when they are followed by guttural letters that necessitate the additional patah g’nuva, or the epenthetic in Prof. Khan’s jargon, the semivowel is even geminated. 

Plural suffixes: Instead of im, יםx, in Arabic, as in Aramaic, “in” is often used. In feminine forms, instead of oth, ותx,  ات, which is the equivalent of אתx, is used. However, many nouns have a unique plural form that does not employ a suffix or any set rule of new vowel structure.

…

And now for the nitty-gritty of Prof. Khan’s book. The second volume of Khan’s work is a translation of the Hidāyat al-Qāri, which was written by a prominent grammarian, and it and other Karaite works and documents make up a significant portion of his sources. Although there may be that which we can learn from both Karaite and Samaritan sources, they can hardly be considered by traditional Jews to be sources for anything halacha l’ma’aseh. For example, the notion that the shuruq form of vav hahibbur before labial letters is pronounced as “wu,” and not “u,” is very hard for me to believe, especially because it contradicts most modes of pronunciation among world Jewry, and makes one wonder why such a vav would not therefore be considered a complete syllable unto itself. As I wrote about last time, an analysis of the trop indicates that the Masoretes did not not count the prefix vav as a syllable even when it was pronounced as a shuruq. If they had been pronouncing such a vav as “wu”, it would count as a full syllable, especially if it preceded a letter with a sh’wa. I believe that even the Karaites and Samaritans themselves do not pronounce it that way anymore, if they ever did. R’ Schachter likes to relate a story about a conversation between Rabbi Soloveitchik and Rabbi Saul Lieberman, in which the former was dismissive of certain medieval sources, because just like today when we have pseudo-scholars who write halachic nonsense, they also had such things back then. Just because you can find that Karaites distinguished between the mobile and silent sh’was using different criteria from ours, we should do as they do?!

I would also like an explanation as to why, considering the mountain of proof that the vav was and should be pronounced like a W and not like a V, he recommends that it be pronounced as a V in certain instances. It is inconsistent in theory as well as in practice. However, it is interesting to note that historically Jews in Palestine began to assimilate the vav into a V sound around the same time that speakers of Greek began to assimilate the sound. Although I am happy to let people speak however they may like, I would strongly recommend against this and another common phoneme, namely the Modern Hebrew pronunciation of reish. Both made it into Modern Hebrew via Yiddish, and both make Modern Hebrew sound unpleasantly Germanic. For example, the word aquarium is both pleasant and easy to pronounce, and sounds like a fun place to visit with children, while ak-VA-ghi-um is jarring, hard to pronounce, and sounds sinister. If most can pronounce the vav and reish properly, they should try to do so. For those who may ask, I spell the name of the letter v-a-v in order to distinguish it from the Aarabic waw, although I believe that it makes the W sound. 

Prof. Khan’s take on orthoepy on page 101 fits with my point here that the Sifrei Emet have a higher tendency toward conjunctive cantillation marks than the rest of the books of the Bible. Along similar lines, you will find that in the majority of the biblical books, the non-Emet books, the lower level disjunctives, which therefore also occur earlier in a particular half of a verse, tend to be musical flourishes, and not unsurprisingly, can have many more conjunctive words (i.e., words marked with conjunctive trops) preceding them. For example, silluq and ethnah have at most one conjunctive word connected by either a mercha or munah, respectively, and the second-level disjunctives like tip’ha and zaqef have at most two conjunctives, while the pazer and t’lisha g’dola often have four or five conjunctives, and even up to seven at my last count. (Often, a string of connective words form one adjectival phrase beginning with asher, that or who, even if that phrase itself has many parts of speech.) Jacobson has already pointed out that there are no disjunctives lower than these, and therefore, even at preceding words where we would expect disjunctives, we find conjunctives. There is thus a proportional relationship between musicality and connectivity. 

A recurring argument is that when the Karaite transliterations into Arabic omit mater lectionis, the indication is a short vowel in the original Hebrew. I disagree, because we see that the farther back we go in Biblical Hebrew, fewer and fewer long vowels, especially qamatz and holam, are in the plene form. Incidentally, some have asked me for rules of thumb as to when the holam is plene or deficient. I have two of them: 1. In post-biblical Hebrew, the accented holam of segolate nouns is deficient (e.g., חֹדֶש, עֹשֶק, אֹכֶל, etc.) while in participles, the holam is unaccented and written in the plene form (e.g., אוֹכל, עוֹשֶק, etc.). In Biblical Hebrew, the older the book, the less likely these participles are to have the vav. 2. In the Torah and the earlier biblical books, the holam is often deficient when it is part of a plural suffix. Those words in which it is written plene, e.g., in בנות, are the exceptions. However, when the vav is part of the root, it usually is written, for example when the root of the word is yod-reish-(silent) hei and the conjugation is in the hif’il, which is why the word תורה and its variants are written in the plene form. 

Pg. 113. I used to joke that the common Ashkenazi practice of distinguishing between qamatz and patah and tzeirei-segol was an enactment of the biennial convention of Ashkenazic Jewry, for if you were to claim that qamatz and patah used to sound the same, and tzeirei-segol sounded the same, why do Ashkenazim distinguish between? However, Prof. Khan seems to say that it was apparently the case, and we are left looking for an explanation as to how our ancestors figured out the difference in theory and adopted it in practice. 

The argument on page 409 regarding epenthetic vowels fits with the argument I made previously about the pronunciation of ohela.

Pg. 428: Yaamdu. I believe that Prof. Khan and I are making similar proposals, except that he is using much more advanced terminology. 

Pg. 450: As per the brilliant and indispensable treatise on cantillation found in the classic Tiqqun Mishor, I believe that it is much easier to explain the vocalization of the word מה (ma) with the rules governing the hei hay’dia, the definite article. The atei merahiq (dehiq) explanation may account for the dagesh in the first letter of the second word, but it does not account for the variety of possible vowels: segol, qamatz, patah, etc. that parallels that of the hei hayedia and that can be explained using the general principles of vowel shifts. 

Pg. 509. Is the masoretic hyphen supposed to be called a מַקֵּף or מַקָּף? I can entertain either, just like the exact vowelization (and names for that matter) of the words we use for the vowels are also pretty dynamic, and the same can be said of the trop. 

Pg. 519: Prof. Khan does not find any lengthening of the vowel in the syllable marked by the metiga of the zaqef gadol, nor of the geresh of the ravia mugrash. As I wrote earlier, I am of the belief that these particular symbols are quite arbitrary, and their placement is less about accentage, etc., and more about distinguishing them from similar symbols, and explains why trop like the dehi and t’lisha gedola are always marked on the first syllables even if those syllables are not accented. 

Pg. 524: Concerning the verb להניח, Prof. Khan offers that the forms which have the dagesh are not reflective of a different root altogether, but rather are a convention to create a distinctive meaning. The forms with the weak nun imply “to give rest,” while the forms with the strong nun imply placement. It would thus seem logical that the blessing on laying t’fillin should be להַנּיח תפלין and not להָניח תפלין. However, most siddurim follow the Shulhan Aruch’s ruling (Orah Hayim 25:7) to use the latter formulation, and indeed, the Mishna B’rura there explains that the weaker form implies placement, while it is the strong form that implies handing over. However, in the original source in the Beth Yosef, it is mentioned that there is no actual difference in meaning between the two forms, but the weak form is preferred because it is the one used in the verse (Ezekiel 44:30), להָניח ברכה, “to place a blessing within your house.” The Vilna Gaon seems to endorse this view. 

The following is from a letter I wrote to the publishers of the Makbili edition of the Mishneh Torah:

במהדורתכם, בהלכות תפילין, פרק ד׳, כל פעם שמדובר על מעשה הנחת תפילין וברכתה, הנו״ן דגושה והתנועה לפניה או חיריק חסר או פתח, ושתיהן תנועות קלות, וזה למרות דעת השולחן ערוך וכמה אחחרונים שצ״ל נו״ן רפה והתנועה לפניה או קמץ או צירה, ושתיהן תנועות גדולות. לדעת מרן הבית יוסף, זה בגלל שהנחת תפילין שורשו נו״ח, ומעשה ההנחה הוא בבנין הפעיל, לעומת הנחה בנו״ן דגושה, שהיא באה משורש אחר ומשמעותה לשון עזיבה

?האם דעתו של הרמב״ם מפורשת שכן צריכים להגות ״הנחה״, או האם יש לכם סיבה אחרת בשיטת הניקוד

In short, they decided to vowelize l’haniah t’fillin, the blessing on laying t’fillin, with a dagesh in the nun, l’hanniah t’fillin. This is in contrast to most known opinions, including that of the Shulhan Aruch. Whose opinion were they following, bearing in mind that Maimonides himself did not actually state anything in regards to the matter and his own editions of the Mishneh Torah were not vowelized?

The editor answered that

:זוהי תמצית תשובת ד”ר יחיאל קארה, עורך המשנה של המהדורה לענייני ניקוד

במהדורתנו ניקדנו על פי המסורת התימנית, וכן הוא גם בכ”י קאופמן של המשנה. אכן במקרא אפשר שיש מקום להבחין בין “והניח לכם מכל אויביכם” ב-נ’ פשוטה לעומת “והניחם שם” ב-נ’ דגושה, כהבדלה בין נתינת מנוחה לבין שימה, אך הדבר אינו מוחלט, ובכל מקרה מדובר במה שמכונה “פועל עלול”, שבו יש תנועה בין הגזרות השונות. וראה גם במילון אבן שושן, שמביא את שתי הצורות בלא להבחין ביניהן

Or in short, that there is a Yemenite tradition that it should be that way. Indeed, one Yemenite rabbi showed me some Yemenite codes that explicitly record the practice.

A few years ago, I found what may be the source for the Yemenite/Maimonidean tradition.  According to the Shulhan Aruch, the three-letter root of l’haniah is nun–yod (or waw)-heth. Thus, all the letters of the root are present in that conjugation, and thus do not require any letter to be geminated in order to compensate. However, In The Guide for the Perplexed, 1:67, Maimonides wrote (Friedlander translation):

Our Sages, and some of the Commentators, took, however, nuaḥ in its primary sense “to rest,” but as a transitive form (hif’il), explaining the phrase thus: “and he gave rest to the world on the seventh day,” i.e., no further act of creation took place on that day.

It is possible that the word wayyanaḥ is derived either from yanaḥ, a verb of the class pe-yod, or naḥah, a verb of the class lamed-he, and has this meaning: “he established” or “he governed” the Universe in accordance with the properties it possessed on the seventh day”; that is to say, while on each of the six days events took place contrary to the natural laws now in operation throughout the Universe, on the seventh day the Universe was merely upheld and left in the condition in which it continues to exist. Our explanation is not impaired by the fact that the form of the word deviates from the rules of verbs of these two classes: for there are frequent exceptions to the rules of conjugations, and especially of the weak verbs: and any interpretation which removes such a source of error must not be abandoned because of certain grammatical rules. We know that we are ignorant of the sacred language, and that grammatical rules only apply to the majority of cases.

Thus, it seems that in the form l’hanniah, the yod of the beginning of the shoresh has been left out, necessitating the dagesh in the second letter of the root, the nun. However, Maimonides acknowledges the apparent difficulty: usually, when the first letter of a root is yod, verbs in the hiph’il conjugation are vowelized with a full holam after the prefix, for example להוציא from יצא and להושיב from ישב, and even להוליך from הלך, which does not even have a yod. 

Pg. 599-600: The discussion reminds me of my epiphany concerning the Vilna Gaon’s pronunciation of זֵכר. The difficulty native speakers have when trying to distinguish between sets of similar sounds is very frustrating, especially when they attempt to add their own vowelizations. I tell Israeli schoolteachers that it is not even worth it for them to try, because when it comes to qamatz-patah and segol-tzeirei, they will always get it wrong. 

Finally, Prof. Khan is not alone in advocating that the sh’wa na’ of Tiberian Hebrew be pronounced basically like a hataf patah. Support for this position comes from written testimony that describes it as such. However, I do not accept this. It seems to me today, linguists discuss dozens of types of vowels, and spoken English, for example, utilizes dozens of vowel sounds, but in the medieval period, they used to only discuss three, and then five, different vowel qualities. It makes sense that to them, the sh’wa would have to fit into one of those descriptive categories even if we now have the tools to be more specific. Further, if the sh’wa was supposed to sound like a hataf patah in the majority of cases, why did the Msaoretes choose the sign of the sh’wa, which half the time is used to mark a letter that closes a syllable, and not the hataf patah, which they had already created to mark specific sh’wa’s? Also, it would be a practice that contradicts the living custom of most of Jewry, and would require a thoroughly novel explanation as to why the pronunciation of the vav hahibbbur changes before words that begin with a letter vowelized with sh’wa. However, I also believe that a sh’wa should not be pronounced identically to the short I sound as is common in most places today. The best description of the sound that I can offer today is the sound in the word “the,” as in “I went to the store.”

…

Concerning Vav Hahippuch

As opposed to the conjunctive vav, the vav hahippuch generally turns a past-tense verb into future tense, and a future-tense verb into past tense. Many thus believe that the hippuch, inversing, refers to the tense. But, the vav hahippuch inverses a lot more:

The accentage: In most past-tense verbs converted to future, the accent is shifted from the middle syllable, if that is its position, to the last syllable. E.g. a-HAV-ta is “you loved,” whereas w’A-hav-Ta is “you shall love”. (Most speakers of Hebrew are unaware that the past-tense second person plural verbs are accented on the last syllable: אהבתם is ahav-TEM, and not aHAV-tem, and when marked with the vav hahippuch stay accented as such.) Notable exceptions occur in verbs with yod/silent hei as the last letter of the root. E.g., w’a-SI-tha, “you shall make,” is accented on its middle syllable even though it is future tense. Once again it is verbs of this category that are the major exception; last time I pointed out that the singular masculine past-tense conjugations of these verbs do not follow the rule of athei merahiq. In the case of a future-tense verb made past, the accent is shifted from the last syllable to an earlier one. (e.g., ya-QUM becomes way-YA-qom, and yo-MAR becomes way-YO-mer).  

The syntax: Standard form would be subject-verb-object. When vav-hahippuch is utilized, the order is verb-subject-etc.. This is the usual form used throughout the Bible when describing events, and usually in chronological order. When I teach about vav hahipppuch, this is the first indication: Does the verb start the sentence or clause instead of the subject? If yes, then you most likely have vav hahippuch.

Lastly, the vocalization is changed, at least from future to past. Instead of simply being marked with a sh’wa, or whatever would have taken the sh’wa’s place based under other considerations (e.g., becoming a shuruq before labial letters), the vav hahippuch is vowelized with either a patah before the future-prefix tau, yod, or nun, or a qamatz before the future prefix alef, which cannot receive a dagesh. Thus, when you have a vav hahippuch before a first-person singular pi’el verb like avaqqesh, which starts with an alef vocalized with a hataf patah, the vav hahippuch will be marked with a qamatz. There are two practical applications with regard to the meaning: If the vav preceding such a verb was not a vav hahippuch, it would be marked with an ordinary patah and the verb is in standard future-tense form, and therefore the reader must distinguish between the two. If he does not, he should be corrected, and normally, the vocalization of the vav hahippuch actually matters.  However, the vocalization of the vav hahibbur, which can prefix all parts of speech, is not critical, i.e., whether one pronounces it with a sh’wa, or any vowel, or as a shuruq, does not affect the meaning and intent. Because vav hahippuch only prefixes verbs, any time a vav prefixes anything but a verb, I would not correct the reader if he pronounces it with the wrong vowel. For example, if one were to read וגדולה as vig-do-LA  instead of ug-do-LA, or ושמעון as wa-shim-’ON instead of w’shim-’ON.

As far as I can tell, classical Aramaic has no vav hahippuch, and perhaps others can weigh in on whether such a form exists in other semitic languages.  

Once one is familiar with the style of the vav hahippuch, he will notice that certain verses (or parts of verses) actually follow standard syntax: The subject will precede the verb, which will be in the correct tense. In such cases, the subject may be preceded by a vav hahibbur, and the overall indication will be that the information expressed is that which had happened previously. I.e., such a style of syntax indicates the past perfect. Some examples:

Genesis 4:1: והאדם ידע את חוה אשתו, “The man had known his wife, Eve.” Many scholars have pointed out that this indicates that Eve had at least conceived her first children before Adam ate of the forbidden fruit, with the Midrash even describing Cain’s birth the day Adam and Eve were created.

Genesis 14:1: עָשׂוּ מִלְחָמָה אֶת-בֶּרַע מֶלֶךְ סְדֹם, “They had made war against Bera, King of Sodom, etc.” As is evident from the subsequent verses, the initial war preceded the events of the running narrative by some fourteen years.

Genesis 18:17: וַה׳ אָמָר הַמְכַסֶּה אֲנִי מֵאַבְרָהָם אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי עֹשֶׂה “And the Lord had said, would I conceal from Abraham that which I am doing?” That is, God had already decided, so to speak, that He would inform Abraham of the judgment against Sodom and Gomorrah. 

If you read II Samuel 2, it seems that Abner crowned Ishbosheth in the aftermath of Saul’s death, shortly before or right around the time David was crowned king of Judah, and considering that the verse describes how Ishbosheth’s kingdom gradually expanded as more tribes accepted him, it seems to me that it took David five and a half years after Ishbosheth’s death to then be accepted as king over all of Israel, and in support of the Ttosafists’ classical position against that of  Rashi’s (Sanhedrin 20a) , it took some time before Ishboshesh was accepted  by all of the tribes, but the five years of no kingdom seem to have been after his death, as the tribes came around to accepting David as king.  

Disputatious Divorces: Public Controversies over Gitten and Couple Relations
by Marvin J. Heller[1]

God said “It is not good that man be alone: I will make him a helper, a counterpart to him.
Therefore, a man shall leave his father and mother and clings to his wife, so that they become one flesh. (Genesis 2:18, 24)
As a rose among the thorns, so is my beloved among the young women.
As an apple tree among the forest trees, so is my beloved among the young men (Song of Songs 2:2,3).
A man takes a woman [into his household as his wife] and becomes her husband. She fails to please him because he finds something obnoxious about her, and he writes her a bill of divorcement (Sefer Keritut, get), hands it to her, and sends her away from his house (Deuteronomy 24:1).

The Bible makes clear that the normal relationship is for men and women to marry and have a warm conjugal relationship, stating this near the opening of Genesis, the first human relationship being formed on the sixth day of creation, the day the both man and women were created. This relationship is emphasized by King Solomon in the Song of Songs (Shir ha-Shirim) who, as noted above, describes the affection each member of a couple has, should have, for each other. Alas, unfortunately, this is not always the case. When that unfortunate occurrence occurs, the Torah mandates a procedure for terminating the relationship, hopefully with a minimum of animosity and acrimony.

In contrast to the above, several contentious divorces in the Jewish community, in the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries, had a very public countenance, this in contrast to the concept that divorce is a private affair. In all of these instances the disputations and the opinions of the prominent rabbis involved were recorded in numerous books of responsa. This article looks at several of those divorces and related publications, one in which none of the participants were Jewish. In that instance, however, halacha was a matter of interest. Background of the disputes are discussed in this article and several of the leading related publications are described. Five contentious divorces are addressed in this article in chronological order, excepting the English royal divorce addressed at the conclusion of the article.

I

1566 – Tamari-Venturozzo affair – We begin with the controversial divorce known as the Tamari-Venturozzo Affair, after its participants, Samuel (Shmuel ha-katan) ben Moses Ventura of Perugia, known as Venturozzo and Tamar, the daughter of Joseph ben Moses ha-Kohen Tamari, “the leading physician in Venice.” Shlomo Simonsohn, begins his description of the “divorce scandal” writing that in contrast to other communal disputes the Tamari-Venturozzo affair, an issue of Jewish law, “roused the Jewish public throughout Italy” and social conflict in the communities.[2]

In 1560, Samuel Venturozzo, was promised, (engaged to) Tamar (Tamari). Three months after the betrothal a dispute between Venturozzo and Tamari, the latter close to the Venetian government, occurred, the former reputedly for violating his marriage vows, customarily made at in Italy at the time of betrothal. As a result, Venturozzo left Venice, claiming that he fled the city because Tamari had reported him to the authorities. Venturozzo moved about in Italy, pursued by Tamari, who demanded a get (bill of divorce) for his daughter, as erusin (betrothal) involving the exchange of marital vows, that is, apart from and prior to nissu’in (marriage), had taken place, necessitating a get.

After four years, Tamari brought the case to the Maharam of Padua (R. Meir ben Isaac Katzenellenbogen, 1482-1565), among the leading rabbis in Italy. He ruled, on February 27, 1564 (4 Adar, 5324), that within a month Venturozzo must either consummate the marriage or divorce Tamar. After considerable difficult negotiations, Venturozzo returned to Venice and formally divorced Tamar, giving her a get. This did not, however, conclude the matter. Venturozzo subsequently reputed the divorce, claiming that he had been compelled to grant the get; Tamari charged that Venturozzo was mercenary. Furthermore, Tamari claimed that Venturozzo’s charges, after the fact, did not negate the get. Rabbinic and secular authorities were marshaled by both sides, in Venice on behalf of Tamari, the rabbinate in Mantua, and Cosimo I, Duke of Florence, on behalf of Venturozzo, who would later be librarian for the Duke’s Hebrew books. Even the Church, represented by Cardinals and the Inquisition, became involved. The dispute occupied the attention of Italian Jewry for seven years.[3]

According to Robert Bonfil the Tamari-Venturozzo controversy was one of several within the Italian-Jewish community. Each dispute involved numerous rabbis, none with sufficient authority to render a final decision. He writes that “the personal authority of the individuals involved was severely weakened by some harsh facts which came to light in the wake of these conflicts.” Furthermore, social tension between ethnic groups was aggravated. “Even in the case of the Tamari-Venturozzo divorce, the Mantua community was divided into two camps: the scholars of the Ashkenazic yeshivot on the one hand, and R. Moses Provenzali and the Italian community on the other.[4]

This dispute over the get divided the Ashkenazic and Sephardic communities of Italy, and, prior to its resolution, involved a wide spectrum of rabbinic authorities, in such locations as Venice, Florence, Ferrara, and Mantua, as well as Italian officialdom and even beyond Italy, in such diverse locations as Salonika, Constantinople and Eretz Israel. Polemic tracts and collections of responsa were issued for and by both sides.

Several works of responsa address this dispute, of those noted here, one was printed in Venice, R. Baruch Uziel ben Baruch Hazketto’s Hatzaah al Odot ha-Get, and two were published in Mantua, R. Samuel ben Moses Venturozzo’s Elleh ha-Devorim and R. Moses ben Abraham Provencal’s Be’ur Zeh Yaza Rishonah.[5]

1566, Hatzaah al Odot ha-Get
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Hatzaah al Odot ha-Get (Proposal on the matter of the get given by Samuel known as Venturozzo) is a collection of responsa from a number of rabbis in support of Tamari. It was published at the press of Giorgio di Cavalli (Venice, 1565) in a small format (21 cm. 77 ff.). Cavalli, a scion of an ancient Veronese family made Venetian patricians, was an active printer of Hebrew books from 1565 to 1567, issuing more than twenty Hebrew titles. His pressmark was an elephant bearing a turret.

Hatzaah al Odot ha-Get was published by the Tamari family and the rabbis of Venice who supported the family. The book was published at intervals and subsequently assembled as a complete work. R. Baruch Uziel ben Baruch Hazketto (d. 1571, Hazketto is a Hebraized form of his name: ḥazak, forte, פורטי, “strong”).[6] The title-page of Hatzaah al Odot ha-Get states that it’s subject matter is the get given by the young Samuel known as Venturozzo. It is dated 8 Tishrei השכ”ו ([5]326 = Monday, September 3, 1565) and “contains all the details, in general and in particular, from beginning to the end. . . . and in it can be found all the facts of the divorce.” The text begins with an account of the affair from the Tamari perspective. It is followed by correspondence and rulings supporting the Tamari family from rabbis who express their opposition to R. Moshe Provencal (Provencali), who led the rabbis of Mantua, and his supporters, the leading adherents of the Venturozzo position.[7]

Elleh ha- Devorim represents the Venturozzo family’s position. It was published in quarto format (4⁰: pp. 46 ff.) with the assistance of R. Moses ben Abraham Provencal. Although the title-page states it was printed in Mantua the publisher is not known. In addition, a second, this the primary work representing the Tamari family position, was Provencal’s Be’ur Zeh Yaza Rishonah.

R. Moses ben Abraham Provencal (1503–1575), born in and rabbi of Mantua was a prominent Talmudist and among the preeminent contemporary Italian rabbis. Among the many works for which he is known, in addition to his responsa, are an approbation for the printing of the Zohar (Mantua, 1558–60), and other varied works.[8] A leading supporter of Venturozzo, Provencal (1503-1575), invalidated the get, contending it was given under duress. His position was opposed by many rabbis in Italy, as well as rabbis throughout Italy and Turkey. Provencal wrote to the Venetian rabbinate informing them that Tamar could not remarry until the matter was resolved. The Venetian rabbinate sought and gained the support of the rabbis (six) in the Ashkenaz yeshiva in Mantua, who “banned” Provencal, an activity supported by several prominent rabbis in Italy and abroad. Provencal was actually put under house arrest by the authorities in Mantua for his position.[9] Much of the Italian rabbinate supported Provencal.

1566, Elleh ha- Devorim
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

1566, Be’ur Zeh Yaza Rishonah
Courtesy of the National Library of Israel

Provencal’s Be’ur Zeh Yaza Rishonah is a small work. It was printed in Mantua in octavo format (8⁰: [22] pp.), the press, as noted above, unknown. The title-page describes Be’ur Zeh Yaza Rishonah as including all the laws concerning women on divorce and betrothal when discord occurs between a man and his wife and the monetary issues when they bring their case to judgment. In addition to the works described here Simonsohn notes several other related responsa, some still in manuscript.

When the matter became so heated there were riots, suppressed by the civil authorities, in Milan. Soon after, however, the public lost interest in the affair and it was quickly forgotten. At the end of the century Provencal’s grandchildren were unable to sell copies of his pamphlet still in their possession.

(TSB Editor note: For more about this controversy see Eliezer Brodt’s recent presentation available here.)

II

Divorce of Vienna, 1611 – Our second contentious divorce, a cause celebre known as the Divorce of Vienna (Get Mi-Vi’en) concerns a young man from Poland, sixteen years of age, who married a young woman from Vienna. He became severely ill. The couple did not have any children. Persuaded by his wife’s family, the husband agreed to divorce his wife, to give her a get, so that she would not have to undergo halitzah after his passing.[10] At the time of the divorce, the husband’s position was based on his being informed that if he recovered the marital relation would be resumed. He was provided with written and oral assurances that if he recovered, he could remarry his wife. The young man did recover, but his wife declined to resume the prior relationship and return to her [ex]husband. The issue came before R. Meir ben Gedaliah of Lublin (Maharam of Lublin, 1558–1616) who determined that because of the husband’s understanding of the situation and recovery the original divorce was invalidated.

Another rabbi of repute to whom the question of this divorce was also addressed was R. Mordecai Jaffe (Levush, 1530-1612). It was his position that the verse in Deuteronomy (24:1–2) that only if his wife does not please him, as in the header verse “he writes her a bill of divorcement, hands it to her, and sends her away from his house . . . And she shall go out of his house and became a wife to another man …” It was the Levush’s contention that a woman can remarry only if she did not find favor in her husband’s eyes. If, however, the divorce was due to other reasons, a “divorce of love” is Jaffe’s term, it “is not effective as an instrument empowering marriage to another.”

In contrast to the above, in a synod of the Polish and Russian rabbinate, R. Shmuel Eliezer Edels (Maharsha, 1555-1631) determined that, given the prior understanding, the divorce was valid. Similarly, R. Joshua Falk (1555-1614), author of Beit Yisrael commentary on the Arba’ah Turim as well as Sefer Meiros Enayim on the Shulkhan Arukh argued that the get was valid, as no explicit condition had been written in the get. Finally, the wife’s family did not permit the remarriage.[11]

(TSB Editor note: For more about this controversy see Eliezer Brodt’s recent presentation available here.)

III

Urbino 1727 – Our next contentious divorce, this quite different from our other separations, took place in Urbino, at one time capital of the province of Pesaro e Urbino, duchy of Urbino, but subsequently later a portion of the States of the Church. Jews may have been resident in Urbino as early as the thirteenth century, albeit in small numbers. The details of the divorce and the participants in the ensuing divorce are detailed in R. Isaac ben Samuel Lampronti’s (1679-1756) multi-volume encyclopedia entitled Pahad Yitzhak, most parts printed posthumously.

Lampronti, a physician, rabbinic scholar, and head of the yeshiva in Mantua, a Sephardic sage in Italy, began to assemble the contents of Pahad Yitzhak when a student in Mantua. It is an encyclopedic and comprehensive work on Jewish subjects, arranged alphabetically. Lampronti worked on Pahad Yitzhak his entire life, but only beginning to publish it when elderly. A thirteen-volume work, the first volume (Venice, 1750) of Pahad Yitzhak was printed at the Bragadin press. It is the only part of Pahad Yitzhak to be published in Lampronti’s lifetime; it is on the letters א and ב. The remainder of the work was published posthumously.[12] Publication of Pahad Yitzhak was completed in Berlin (1885-87), the final volumes published by the Meḳiẓe Nirdamim Society.[13]

1750, Pahad Yitzhak 
Courtesy of Jewish National Library

1866, Pahad Yitzhak
Courtesy of HebrewBooks.org

The case of the Urbino divorce is addressed in Pahad Yitzhak, volume 7 (Lyck, 1866), under the heading safek (doubt). Ninety pages reproduce the various works, responsa, and related correspondence concerning this dispute. The detailed Pahad Yitzhak entry on the disputed Urbino divorce is summarized by Cecil Roth in an article on the dispute. The remainder of this article entry is a concise recapitulation of that summary.[14]

In this occurrence Consolo Moscato, a very attractive orphan girl, was resident in Urbino. She was sought after by many of the local young men, but she chose to wed her cousin Solomon Vita Castello. The match was arranged, but did not take place immediately, Consolo’s father having passed away and her mother, signora Diana, remarried. The couple lived under the same roof, in the home of an aunt. Due to difficult economic conditions the year stipulated for the wedding passed and it was three years before anything was done. At the end of June, 1727 Castello purchased attractive attire for the bride from a merchant for no less than twelve zecchins.

Soon after, however, the groom became ill and his mind was affected. Castello threw himself down a well; quickly saved he was bound hand and foot to prevent another attempt. His madness was followed by periods of lucidity “or what was convenient to consider lucidity.” Castello had relapses, at which time he called upon the Saints for assistance. When his kinsfolk stopped this speech, he responded with blasphemies. When this became known priests were sent by the church authorities to save his soul. There was concern that the church would seize Consolo to accompany Castello. She therefore fled, in terror, to her mother’s home and took steps to annul her engagement.

Subsequently, Consolo became betrothed to Moses Samuel Guglielmi on Friday, October 17, 1727, freeing her from Castello, with whom she had not undergone a formal ceremony. Soon after, however, Castello regained his health and found, to his dismay, that his bride had been estranged. Consolo was now prepared to cancel her new relationship and return to Castello. However, a local rabbi, R. Judah Vita Guglielmi, a relative of Moses Guglielmi, ruled that Consolo’s renewed relationship to Castello was illegal. Consolo and Castello secretly married. It was alleged that Guglielmi had even employed a non-Jewish sorceress to break the couples’ bond. R. Judah Vita Guglielmi, seeing his authority flouted appealed to other rabbis, as did the other side. Leading rabbinic authorities in Italy became involved. After serious contentiousness on both sides, it was agreed unanimously, in the decision of R. Solomon David del Vecchio, that Consolo must be divorced by both of her suitors, neither of whom could be considered her husband. Castello subsequently demanded repayment for his expenses refusing to grant her freedom, with the result that he was excommunicated. He finally consented, the excommunication was withdrawn, bringing the Urbino dispute to a conclusion.

IV

Cleves, 1766-67 – In 1766-67, a dispute arose over a get in Cleves (Kleve), a city in the historic duchy of Westphalia in western Germany, less than 5 miles (8 km) south of the Dutch border. Jews are mentioned in Cleves as early as 1142 and were granted a charter of privilege in 1361. They received patents allowing them freedom of movement (Geleitbriefe) in 1647–51 and 1713–20. Nevertheless, Jewish residence there was small, numbering only four families in 1661, 19 in 1739, and 22 families in 1787.[15] The small number of Jews notwithstanding, there too a dispute over a divorce, the get of Cleves, was contentious and became a wide spread dispute involving leading rabbinic authorities.

Here too the dispute concerns a husband who had intermittent mental illness. In this case the subject was the marriage Isaac (Itzik) ben Eliezer Neiberg of Mannheim to Leah bas Jacob Guenzhausen of Bonn, on Elul 8, 5526 (August 14, 1766). On the Sabbath after the wedding, Isaac (Itzik), took the dowry of 94 gold crowns and disappeared. He was subsequently found, after a widespread search, two days later, in a gentile home in Farenheim and returned home. Not long afterwards, Isaac told his wife’s family that he could no longer remain in Germany because he was in serious danger and that he had to immigrate to England. Isaac stated that he was prepared give Leah a get so that she would not be an agunah (technically still married and unable to rewed). Leah agreed and Cleves was chosen as the place where the get would be given. Afterwards, Leah returned to Manheim and Isaac preceded to England. Although he gave his wife a get the validity of the divorce was questionable; it is necessary that one giving a get be of sound mind. As a result, the validity of the get became an issue of contention between rabbinic authorities in Western Europe.[16]

The divorce was given, on 22 Elul, 5526 (August 27, 1766), under the direction of R. Israel ben Eliezer Lipschuetz, the av bet din (head of the rabbinic court) of Cleves. When Isaac’s father learned of the divorce, he suspected that the whole affair had been arranged by Leah’s relatives in order to extract the money for the dowry from Isaac. Isaac’s father then turned to R. Tevele Hess of Mannheim, who determined that the get was not valid, Isaac not having been of sound mind when he gave it to Leah. Hess sought support for his position, turning to the bet din (rabbinical court) of Frankfurt, headed by R. Abraham ben Zevi Hirsch of Lissau. Abraham ben Zevi Hirsch supported Hess’s ruling but that was not the case with other prominent rabbis such as R. Naphtali Hirsch Katzenellenbogen of Pfalz, R. Eliezer Katzenellenbogen of Hagenau, and R. Joseph Steinhardt of Fuerth. While Abraham ben Zevi Hirsch agreed and even demanded that Lipschuetz invalidate the get, agreeing that Leah was still a married woman, the others did not support him, saying the divorce was valid and Leah might remarry. Furthermore, many other prominent rabbis also validated the get.[17] The Frankfurt rabbinate, here influenced by the Frankfurt am Main dayyan (judge) R. Nathan ben Solomon Maas opposed the validity of the get, publicly burning the supportive responsa of the other rabbis, condemning their support of Lipschuetz and his position. Finally, the couple remarried, and in respect of R. Abraham of Frankfurt, did so without any of the traditional blessings at the ceremony. Instead, Isaac said “with this ring you are still married to me.”

The above events are recorded in two works, both validating the get. R. Aaron Simon ben Jacob Abraham of Copenhagen’s Or ha-Yashar are favorable responsa published in the year “as a sign for rebellious ones לאות לבני מרי (529 = 1769)” (Numbers 17:25) in Amsterdam by Gerard Johan Yanson at the press of Israel Mondavo. Aaron Simon was the secretary of the Jewish community of Cologne. He was also the author of Bekhi Neharot, on the flood in Bonn in 1784 (Amsterdam, 1784). He expresses his agreement with and support of Lipschuetz in Or ha-Yashar.[18] The title-page of that work informs that it was completed in the month that the Torah was given to Israel (Sivan) and is dated “as a sign for rebellious ones לאות לבני מרי (529 = 1769)” (Numbers 17:25). Or ha-Yashar is a 19 cm. ([7], 111, [1], ff.) work. Aaron Simon ben Jacob had followed the events and had himself played a part in the granting of the get. Or ha-Yashar records the complete episode of the Cleves divorce.[19]

1769 Or ha-Yashar
Courtesy of Hebrewbooks.org

1770, Or Yisrael
Courtesy of Hebrewbooks.org

The following year Lipschuetz published Or Yisrael in defense of his position. It is dated with the popular phrase “[Rock of Israel], arise to the aid of Israel קומה בעזרת ישראל (530 = 1770)” in defense of his position. Or Yisrael was published in Cleve at the press of the widow Sitzman as a 20 cm. (120 ff.) work. It is the only Hebrew book to have been printed in Cleve. Or Yisrael is comprised of thirty-seven responsa, primarily concerned with the Cleve divorce. Responsa 34-36, which are very critical of the Frankfurt rabbis, were omitted in their entirety, the numeric order of the printed responsa being 33, 37, while responsum 33 was printed with modifications.[20]

A negative result of this controversy was similar to that of the Tamari-Venturozzo controversy, as noted above. Here too, Mordecai Breuer suggests that in the polemic over the Cleves get “rabbis and rabbinical courts from various communities likewise fought against each other with fierce antagonism. . . . and the Cleves divorce, undoubtably had a detrimental effect on the standing of the rabbinate.”[21]

Or ha-Yashar was reprinted once, in Lvov (1902). This is the only edition of Or Yisrael.[22]

(TSB Editor note: For more about this controversy see Eliezer Brodt’s recent presentation available here.)

V

Henry VIII – We conclude with what is the most unusual of our contentious public divorces, that of Henry VIII (June 28, 1491 – January 28, 1547) king of England. Henry reigned from April 22, 1509 until his death in 1547. He is an important and influential figure in English history. Henry took England out of the Roman Catholic Church, had Parliament declare him, in 1534, supreme head of the newly founded Church of England, beginning the English Reformation. He did this because the pope would not annul his marriage to Catherine of Aragon, who had not provided him with a male heir.[23]

Henry’s first marriage – he married six times, this apart from mistresses – was to the Infanta Catherine of Aragon (1485-1536) in 1509.[24] Catherine was the daughter of King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of Spain and the widow of Arthur, his elder brother. Arthur and Catherine did not have children; the related question of levirate marriage, the question of its application to them, will be addressed below. Henry was eighteen at the time and Catherine five years older when they wed. The marriage was a political union, as were many royal marriages at the time. Henry and Catherine did have a child, Mary, born in February 1516. Of the many pregnancies and several births that Henry would have from his many wives, Mary was the only child to survive.[25]

Henry VIII
Hans Holbein the Younger

Catherine was reportedly devoted to her “young, athletic, charming husband.” She was a committed wife and very much wanted to give her husband a male heir. Their first child was a daughter, stillborn in 1510. She was followed by a son, named Henry, born in January 1511, but he lived only 52 days. In October, 1513, Catherine miscarried; in February 1515, she had a stillborn son. “In February 1516, there was happiness as Princess Mary was born. There was joy in the sign that Catherine could bear a vital child which kept alive the hope of a son.” There was, however, sadness with this birth, Catherine having been informed two weeks earlier that her father had passed. One more child was born to the royal couple, in 1518, a stillborn daughter, the last of their children.

After eighteen years of marriage and seven pregnancies, Henry despaired of having a male son with Catherine of Aragon. Winston Churchill writes that by 1525 she was forty years old. Five years earlier, Catherine had been privately mocked by Francis I, king of France, “saying she was already ‘old and deformed.’ A typical Spanish princess, she had matured and aged rapidly; it was clear that she would bear Henry no male heir.”[26]

Henry did have an illegitimate son, daughter of a maid in the court, named Henry, who was made duke of Richmond, but was not an option as successor. Henry VIII became enamored with Anne Boleyn (ca. 1504-1536), a lady in waiting to Catherine, whom he secretly wed in Whitehall Palace. He then attempted to discredit his marriage to Catherine.[27] Henry’s marriage to Anne was also not successful. Anne Boleyn was not a submissive woman. In April 1566, three years later, Anne was accused of high treason, adultery, incest with her brother George, and plotting to kill the king, and tried before a jury. On 15 May, four days later, she was convicted and beheaded. These charges, investigated by historians, are rejected as false.[28]

Henry submitted a request to Pope Clement VII that his marriage to Catherine be dissolved. The pope, however, did not agree to Henry’s request. Cecil Roth writes that the pope would have been prepared to “grant the favor” and annul the marriage but for fear of Catherine’s nephew, Emperor Charles V, who was opposed due to the slight he felt this put upon his house.[29] Henry’s marriage to Catherine was, from a religious, Biblical perspective, questionable, marrying a sibling’s wife, even if he was deceased, being prohibited. The exception to this is where the deceased brother did not have offspring, in which case the commandment of levirate marriage becomes operative.

A complex issue, biblical interpretation and Hebrew tradition assumed importance. Jewish interpretation of scriptures was not readily accessible, as the Jews had been expelled from England by Edward I on 18 July 1290. It was to Italy, therefore, with its notable Jewish community, particularly to the Venice community, that the protagonists turned.[30] Henry sent Richard Croke, an eminent classical scholar and royal tutor, to Venice to seek adjudications on the subject.

Responses both in favor and opposed to Henry’s request are found among the rabbinic authorities in Venice. Among the people that Henry consulted was Mark Raphael, a convert to Christianity who reputedly had previously held a high rabbinic position in Venice.³¹ The subject of Henry’s query was of the legality, according to Jewish law, of his levirate marriage to Catharine.[32]Raphael, who arrived in London on Jan. 28, 1531, held that while Henry’s marriage to Catherine was legal, the king might nevertheless take a second wife conjointly with the first wife. This decision was not acceptable, so Raphael suggested that, as Catherine’s marriage to Arthur had born no children, and Henry had married Catherine without the intention of continuing his brother’s line, that marriage was not legitimate but rather invalid. This position was presented to Parliament, Raphael subsequently being rewarded, being given special import rights in 1532.[33]

Response of Jacob Rafael Peglione of Modena, relating to Jewish marriage law that might apply in the divorce of King Henry VIII from Catherine of Aragon. Italy, 1530.
Courtesy of British Library Board
https://www.timesofisrael.com/dont-divorce-her-rabbis-letter-to-henry-viii-at-heart-of-british-library-show/

Members of the Venetian rabbinate in general were not positive, not supportive of Henry’s position. Among those approached by Henry’s representatives was R. Jacob Raphael Jehiel Hayyim Peglione of Modena. He, however, determined in a responsum that the marriage could not be dissolved. In addition to rabbinic opposition several prominent Venetian physicians opposed Henry’s position, among them Elijah Menahem Halfon, a Talmudist, physician, and kabbalist and Jacob ben Samuel Mantino, physician and translator of philosophical works.[34]

Henry VIII’s offspring did include one son, born to Jane Seymour, a sickly boy, who ruled as Edward VI (1547 – 1553). Edward was succeeded on the throne by Henry’s daughter, Mary, from Catherine of Aragon ( 1553 – 1558), a devout Catholic, remembered today as Bloody Mary, for her attempt to restore Catholicism as the state religion with utmost severity. Henry’s last offspring to rule was the daughter of Anne Boleyn, who ruled as Elizabeth I (1558-1603, reigned from 1558). Elizabeth, was, in contrast to what one might expect from Henry’s relationships with his wives and with Anne Boleyn in particular, that being a short marriage concluding with Anne’s beheading, a popular, successful, and among England’s most preeminent and perchance most significant monarch.

Conclusion – We have addressed five public and contentious divorces. What they have in common is that they were all public and controversial, the opposite of what all parties generally attempt to avoid when marriages fail. As noted at the beginning of this article, what should be a positive and affirmative relationship, should, when it fails, be a private and hopefully not overly contentious dissolution of an unsuccessful bond. The cases described here, over three centuries, were public and unpleasant affairs. They attracted attention not because of the distinction of the subject individuals in the divorces but rather because of the rabbinic participants who were called upon to resolve the issues. The exception to all of this is the divorce of Henry VIII, not Jewish, but whose advisers called upon rabbinic authorities for support.

Again, the above notwithstanding, marriage is meant to be a joyful and positive relationship, as we find in the verses from King Solomon:

As a rose among the thorns, so is my beloved among the young women.
As an apple tree among the forest trees, so is my beloved among the young men.

Many times the rarity of a book is due to a controversy; either because it was limited in scope, i.e. was a polemic, and thus was no need to print thousands of copies or because of bans and the like. One such book is Kuntres ‘al Inyan Shabbat HaChatuna by R. Eliezer Supino (d. 1746). Until recently, it was thought this book no longer existed. But, a single copy (Unicum) was located and it has now been reprinted.

The book, as the title implies, discusses the Shabbat following ones wedding know as Shabbat HaChanutah or Shabbat haHatan. It was customary in many communities, mainly Sefardic but there is also evidence for some Ashkenazi as well, on this Shabbat, aside from the regular reading from the Torah, the parsha of V’Avrahom Zakan Bo B’Yamim was read for the groom. One may be asking so what could have possibly have been the controversy? In one community, Pisa, Italy, where R. Eliezer Supino was the Rabbi, rather then read the special parsha as the maftir, they read it for the 7th aliyah. That is, they finished the torah portion in 6 alyiot and for the seventh read the special parsha.

The question is whether as part of the seven obligatory aliyot can you read a parsha that is merely a custom? To this, R. Supino said yes. Well, somewhere between 1735-36 on one such Shabbat, there was a vistor from another city, Livorno, who witnessed this. [There is some question who this person was.] What basically happened was he went back to Livorno and told R. Dovid Meldola (1714-1810), a hazan, judge, and teacher in the Yeshiva in Livorno. R. Meldola thought strongly that R. Supino was 100% incorrect in allowing for such a custom, and now we have the start of the controversy. In the end, R. Meldola, in his Divrei Dovid (Amsterdam, 1753) devotes a considerable number of pages (18 simanim) to this topic – all attempting to show that R. Supino is wrong. R. Meldola didn’t stop there, he first elicited the help of a host of other important Rabbis who would say he was correct. This include, inter alia, R. Aryeh Lowenstamm the chief Rabbi of Amsterdam, R. Ya’akov Yehoshu Rabbi in Frankfort and the author of the Peni Yehosha, R. Yehzkeil Katzenelllenbogen the chief Rabbi of the tripe community AH”W, and some additional, lesser known (today) Rabbis.

R. Meldola didn’t stop at printing his own book on the topic, he wanted to make sure his book would be the only record of events. First, I must point out that R. Meldola published his book after R. Supanu (and other important figures) died so there was no one to dispute his events. Second, R. Supino, did not wait until anyone died, rather he published his version and the defense of his position in Kuntres ‘al Inyan Shabbat HaChatuna. Sometime around 1743, R. Supanu sent this to Amsterdam to be printed (Livorno, at the time didn’t have a printing press). But, after it was printed, R. Meldola got wind of the publication, and when it arrived by ship to Livorno, all the copies were seized. After reading it, word was sent to Amsterdam that all remaining copies should be destroyed. The printer gave everything up and all were destroyed. Thus, until now, it was thought this book was totally lost.

Shmuel Glick, the editor of the new Kuntres haTeshuvot, was looking through all the libraries to find all the responsa literature, and in Schocken Library he found the only remaining copy in the world of this book. The copy he found also contains some annotations which Glick thinks are that of R. Supanu himself. In this republication, Glick has done a beautiful job (as well as Mossad HaRav Kook). First, he includes an extensive introduction where all the above is from. Second, as mentioned above, until now we had a one sided story of the events, now we have both sides. Glick discusses and highlights the various differences between R. Meldola’s and R. Supino’s versions of the events. Third, he has completely reset the type of the book and included notes as well. Fourth, he then includes a photo reproduction of the actual work. And, finally, he includes to letters from R. Supino which were in manuscript.

In part, the reason this work is important aside from the actual question is its broader implications for the force of custom. R. Supino’s basic argument is the additional reading for the groom is a custom – but as a custom has the same status as the rest of the regular parsha. R. Meldola disputes this understanding of custom.

While this edition is excellent, I want to point out two small things, one is typographical error and the other not an error but an elaboration. The main footnote (which is terrific in scope) which discusses the custom of the special reading for the groom is in the Introduction, footnote 6. But, the references to it in the actual Kuntres (e.g. footnote 2, 62, 158) it refers to it as footnote 2. The second minor point is in a footnote (p. 28 n. 146), Glick discusses the usage of the saying מנהג ישראל תורה, but left off perhaps the most comprehensive discussion of this usage in R. Shmuel Ashkenazi’s Alfa beta kadmita, pp. 210-18.

In all, Shmuel Glick should be commended for an excellent work of a fascinating book. The book is printed by Mossad HaRav Kook and should be available wherever finer seforim are sold.