1. It is well-known that the Mishnah in the tenth chapter of Pesachim includes a set of mah nishtannah. But if one opens a standard printed Babylonian Talmud (Pes. 116a), one sees four questions[2] in the text of the Mishnah (matzah, maror, roast, and dipping), while if one opens a standard printed Jerusalem Talmud, one sees three (dipping, matzah and roast). Is this an instance of a disagreement between the text of the Mishnah preserved in Babylonia and the text of the Mishnah preserved in Palestine? There are such disagreements,[3] but this is not one of them. Here, the manuscript evidence points overwhelmingly to the conclusion that the original text of the Mishnah recorded only the questions of dipping, matzah and roast.[4] Moreover, if one opens up a standard Masechet Pesachim of the Babylonian Talmud and looks at the text of the Mishnah recorded in the Rif and the Rosh, one sees that they too record a Mishnah which included only the questions of dipping, matzah and roast. Also, Rambam utilized a text of the Mishnah which included only these three questions.[5] Let us see how the Encyclopaedia Judaica in its original and new editions deal with this issue. When Daniel Goldschmidt published his classic work on the Haggadah in 1960, after earlier German and Hebrew versions,[6] he clearly took the position that the original text of the Mishnah included only three questions.[7] It was therefore somewhat surprising when the “Mah Nishtannah” entry in the original Encyclopaedia Judaica (published in 1972 and written by the anonymous editors) stated that “[t]he Mishnah enumerates four questions.” In its bibliography, this entry had cited only Goldschmidt’s 1960 work, and one other less scholarly source.[8] We are now in the 21st century. There is now a widespread consensus among scholars that the original text of the Mishnah included only three questions.[9] But when one looks at the new edition of the Encyclopaedia Judaica, one finds only a reprint of the original entry![10] —— 2. A widely quoted explanation of the Vilna Gaon takes the positions that there were always four questions, and that, after the churban, the roast question was substituted by the reclining question.[11] We have already seen that the first of these positions is incorrect. The Haggadah fragments found in the Cairo Genizah show that the second of these positions is incorrect as well. Genizah material generally dates from the 10th through the 13th centuries.[12] It is reasonable to assume that this is roughly the period of the Haggadah fragments from the Genizah.[13] Of course, not all of the Haggadah fragments from the Genizah span the mah nishtannah section. But of those that do, many include the roast question.[14] (The survival of the roast question for 1000 years, post-churban, has been implicitly acknowledged in the Haggadah shel Pesach, Torat Chayim, published by Mossad ha-Rav Kook, at p. 29, n. 59.) [15] Furthermore, although most of the mah nishtannah Haggadah fragments found in the Genizah record four questions the way they are asked today,[16] we also find the following:[17] -Several record three questions: matzah, dipping, and roast,[18] just like the original text of the Mishnah. Most likely, the fragments with these three questions reflect the original Palestinian tradition of the Haggadah,[19] which followed the text of the Mishnah, and the fragments with four questions reflect the Babylonian tradition,[20] which gradually penetrated into Palestine and its surrounding areas.[21] -One records the following three questions: dipping, matzah and reclining.[22] -One records five questions: dipping, matzah, roast, maror, and reclining.[23] (See the photograph in M. Kasher, Haggadah Shelemah, p. 93.) In this fragment, the roast question is phrased:… צלי כולו המקדש בבית אוכלים היינו הזה והלילה. This is the only fragment in which the roast question is phrased with such a qualification. [24] -Two record only the questions of dipping and roast.[25] (But there does not appear to be any reason why the matzah question would have been intentionally discontinued. Perhaps the matzah question was accidentally dropped by a scribe in one source, and further copies were later made from that source. It would have been easy for a scribe to accidentally turn his eye to the wrong mah nishtannah line in the source he was copying from, and thereby omit a question.) – One records only the questions of dipping and matzah. I would like to focus on this last source, which is not actually a Haggadah fragment, but is a section of an anonymous Geonic responsum which includes an outline of the procedures at the seder. It can be deduced that the responsum was composed in Babylonia because it includes avadim hayyinu, which was not a part of the Palestinian seder ritual in this period.[26] This responsum was published by Louis Ginzberg, in his Ginzey Schechter, vol. 2, pp. 258-260. [27] Theoretically, it is possible to argue that the author of this responsum gave only an abbreviated version of the mah nishtannah, and listed only the first two questions, even though his practice was four. This seems to be the understanding of Ginzberg, who writes (p. 259, n. 1): הראשונות השאלות ‘ב אלא כאן נאמרו ולא נתקצר נשתנה מה נוסח. B.M. Lewin included this responsum in his Otzar ha-Geonim, Pesachim (pp. 154-55), and he seems to agree with Ginzberg. (See p. 154, n. 13: נתקצר נשתנה מה נוסח.) But this interpretation seems very unlikely. The whole purpose of the responsum was to spell out the procedures and text of the seder. Abbrevation here would have defeated its purpose. The Safrais take a different approach to this responsum in their monumental work, Haggadat Hazal. They write (p. 64, n. 53) that the third and fourth questions are העמוד בסוף חסרות, implying that these questions were originally included in this responsum but were cut off. Moreover, in their chart on p. 266, they put brackets over a supposed area of the third and fourth questions in this responsum, implying that these questions were once there. They take this approach so that the set of questions in our responsum could then parallel the set of questions found in the other known Babylonian Geonic sources of the Haggadah text: Seder R. Amram Gaon, Siddur R. Saadiah Gaon, and the Haggadah text published in 1984 by M. Lehman.[28] All these sources record the standard four questions: dipping, matzah, maror, and reclining.[29] But I was able to view an image of the responsum (T-S Misc.36.179), and with the kind permission of the Cambridge University Library, have included this image at the end of this article. It is clear that the third and fourth questions were never there. The first side of the fragment ends with the last words of the matzah question (the last three words of this question were written below the last regular line), and the next side continues immediately with avadim hayyinu. It is clear from the image that there are no missing lines in between. Assuming we reject the unlikely interpretation of Ginzberg, this source records a two-question set in Babylonia.[30] The idea that we have now been able to “excavate” such a set, evidence of a period before four questions became the universal practice there, is truly remarkable. An issue remains whether the responsum dates to the period before the maror and reclining questions were added in any Babylonian communities, or whether it dates to a period after they were added, but was composed in a community which did not add them. The latter seems more likely. (The responsum does have at least one other unique aspect.[31] It includes the statement: חורים בני היום[ו] עבדים היינו אתמול. The Safrais discuss this statement at p. 111 and do not mention any other fragments from the Genizah with this language.[32] On the image at the end of this article, this statement is found on the first page, six lines above the last full line.) Regarding the issue of when the maror and reclining questions were added, the following are some reasonable observations that have been made by scholars to date: ◦ The reclining question was probably the last question to be added.[33] Unlike the maror question, it did not make its way into in any manuscripts of the Mishnah,[34] and in all communities, it is the last question of the set.[35] ◦ The maror question probably did not arise until after the text of the dipping question was changed in Babylonia (see Pes. 116a[36]) and the dipping question lost its connotation as a maror question. Once the dipping question lost this connotation, it was probably viewed as necessary to add a question relating to maror.[37] ◦ The reclining question probably originated in Babylonia as well.[38] It was probably added, after the maror question, due to a desire to fix the number of questions at four, parallel to the themes of four cups of wine and four sons.[39] Aside from Haggadah fragments found in the Genizah, the earliest sources which include the reclining question are: Seder R. Amram Gaon,[40] Siddur R. Saadiah Gaon,[41] and the Geonic Haggadah text published by Lehman in 1984. (With regard to Seder R. Amram Gaon, it is accepted that many additions and changes were made to it in the centuries after R. Amram’s death, c. 875. The three surviving manuscripts of the work are only from the 14th-16th centuries. See D. Goldschmidt, Seder R. Amram Gaon, pp. 11-13. With regard to the Siddur R. Saadiah Gaon, the material in our possession has traditionally been viewed as representing a generally reliable version of the original 10th century work by R. Saadiah.[42] With regard to the Geonic Haggadah text published by Lehman, see above, n. 28.) —— 3. A main issue of debate among scholars has been whether the mah nishtannah set of the Mishnah reflects questions from Temple times. If we focus on the roast question ( הלילה הזה כולו צלי ), a reasonable initial assumption is that this question is referring to the pesach sacrifice, since the pesach sacrifice was something that was required to be roasted. This would suggest that this question, and hence perhaps all the questions, were composed during Temple times. But many scholars argue that the roast question is not referring to the pesach sacrifice and that this question was composed after the churban (and hence, the other questions probably were as well.) They make the following arguments: 1. A practice arose after the churban, approved (or perhaps initiated) by Rabban Gamliel of Yavneh, of eating a gedi mekulas as a method of commemorating the pesach sacrifice.[43] See Betzah 2:6-7 and Eduyyot 3:10-11. (Although these two sources do not specify that the Rabban Gamliel they are referring to is Rabban Gamliel of Yavneh, it seems fairly clear, for a variety of reasons, that this is the case here.[44]) The meaning of the term mekulas is subject to debate.[45] Nevertheless, it is clear that the gedi mekulas was not designated as a pesach sacrifice, but was arranged on the spit during the roasting process in the same manner as a pesach sacrifice, and was roasted in its entirety just like a pesach sacrifice. See Tosef. Betzah 2:11 (איזהו גדי מקולס? כולו צלי ראשו וכרעיו וקרבו ) and Pes. 74a.[46] The Sages prohibited the gedi mekulas,[47] but it is possible that a large section of Jewry followed the leniency of Rabban Gamliel and engaged in this practice.[48] The roast question could have been composed post-churban in an area which followed this practice and could be referring to this practice.[49] 2. The Mishnah at Pesachim 4:4 records:מקום שנהגו לאכול צלי בלילי פסחים, אוכלים; מקום שנהגו שלא לאכול, אינן אוכלין. It is possible that this Mishnah was composed during Temple times and is referring to a practice of eating roast meat on the seder night outside the Temple. But just as likely, this Mishnah was composed after the churban and is referring to a post-churban practice of eating roast meat[50] as a commemoration of the pesach sacrifice. It is possible to understand the roast question in the Mishnah as composed, post-churban, in an area which followed this practice and as referring to this practice.[51] But (as pointed out to me by my friend Sam Borodach) the precise phrasing of the roast question does not support either of these interpretations. When read in light of the parallel matzah question, the roast question implies that the question is about a required behavior of the evening. While there were areas which had a custom on this evening, post-churban, to eat a gedi mekulas or to eat roast meat, these were not required behaviors. It is hard to imagine the roast question phrased the way it was by someone composing it with the above optional commemorative behaviors in mind. The language of the roast question, read in light of the parallel matzah question, fits the pesach sacrifice best.[52] Does it follow from this interpretation that the roast question was composed during Temple times? Not necessarily. Even if the roast question is referring to the pesach sacrifice, it very possibly could have been composed after the churban, as a simulation of a question that might have been asked during Temple times. Once the idea for a mah nishtannah question about matzah took hold, it would be have been natural and instructive to create a parallel question covering such an important commandment as the pesach sacrifice, even if the pesach sacrifice was no longer being offered. (All the more so if practices commemorating the pesach sacrifice were ongoing!) (It is also possible to understand the roast question as having been composed post-churban if the pesach sacrifice itself continued after the churban.[53] But the evidence for this is weak.[54]) The Mishnah that concerns us, Pesachim 10:4, is found in the last chapter of this masechet. This suggests that this Mishnah was composed after the churban, since it is reasonable to presume that mishnayot that are presented in the early parts of a masechet were composed first and that mishnayot that are presented later were composed later.[55] Moreover, there is specific evidence suggesting that this particular chapter was composed after the churban. Mishnah 10:3 includes the statement:ובמקדש מביאין לפניו גופו של פסח. This statement suggests that the normative statements in this chapter describe only post-churban practice.[56] Of course, the questions themselves could still reflect questions from earlier times, which were recorded in a chapter composed after the churban. Based on recent scholarly developments, a new argument can be made to support the idea that the questions were composed post-churban. The mah nishtannah is not included in the tenth chapter of the Tosefta. This chapter includes much material parallel to the tenth chapter of the Mishnah. In his Tosefta Atikta, published in 2002, Shamma Friedman studied the relationship between the Mishnah and Tosefta of Pesachim in the first four chapters and in the tenth chapter.[57] He came to the conclusion that the material in the Tosefta in these chapters seems to have originated earlier.[58] If Friedman is correct, this also tends to support a post-churban origin for the mah nishtannah. So far, I have not discussed the precise role that the mah nishtannah serve in the Mishnah. But most likely, the mah nishtannah of the Mishnah was not a mandated piece of liturgy to be recited by the father or a typical son. Rather, it was what the child who lacks understanding is taught to ask (…מה נשתנה אביו מלמדו, אם אין דעת בבן).[59] This also perhaps implies that the mah nishtannah text was a later development. ——– Note finally that the Talmud, at Pes. 70a, records and accepts a statement by R. Hisda that the roast question was authored by Ben Tema. Ben Tema took the position that the chagigah too had to be roasted. In the view of R. Hisda, the language of the roast question, הלילה הזה כולו צלי, fit the position of Ben Tema only. Ben Tema is only mentioned at Pes. 70a and Yoma 83a and there is not enough information to determine if he lived during Temple times. (Some suggest that he is to be identified with R. Judah Ben Tema, who probably dates to the second century C.E,[60] but this identification is only conjecture.) The above statement of R. Hisda is not recorded again at Pes. 116a, where one would expect it.[61] R. Hisda’s statement is also surprising, because it takes an overly literal approach to the roast question. There is also no statement in the Jerusalem Talmud expressing the view that the roast question was authored by Ben Tema.[62] ———- To summarize, it is possible that the mah nishtannah was composed during Temple times, but it also possible that it was composed post-churban. In support of the latter is that the mah nishtannah is found in the last chapter of the masechet, and in a chapter whose normative language suggests that it was composed post-churban. The inclusion of a question about roast meat is not inconsistent with this approach. This question could have been composed post-churban in an area which followed the post-churban practice of preparing a gedi mekulas or in an area which followed the post-churban practice of eating roast meat. More likely, if the question was composed post-churban, it is referring to the pesach sacrifice and was composed for educational purposes, as a simulation of a question that might have been asked during Temple times. The fact that the mah nishtannah is not included in the Tosefta may also support a post-churban origin for it. ——— Cambridge University Library T-S Misc.36.179 (reproduced by kind permission of the Syndics of Cambridge University Library)

 Final Response

By Marc B. Shapiro

In response to Rabbi Herschel Grossman’s strong criticisms of my Limits of Orthodox Theology, I wrote four responses on the Seforim Blog. You can view them here, here, here, and here. I then stopped responding even though there are still many criticisms I could have commented on. Readers can compare Grossman’s arguments with my replies and draw their own judgment. Grossman has recently responded to my posts and offered further criticisms in an article published in Dialogue. See here.

I do not wish to respond to all of his points in his new article, but I feel I need to make some comments and then I will leave this matter and let the readers decide which side is more compelling. Because Grossman complains in his article that “the merits of the arguments are easily lost in the loose internet format and enthusiastic cheering of his online supporters,” I have decided not to allow comments to this post. I can only express my regret at the style that Grossman chose to adopt in his articles. Had he written in an appropriate fashion then it would have been possible to have had a constructive discussion and debate.

P. 161: “DIALOGUE editors offered the author, Dr. Marc Shapiro, an opportunity to respond directly in these pages. He chose instead to issue a response on his own blog, where he wrote a number of lengthy posts in his defense.”

Dialogue never offered me an opportunity to respond in the journal. The Seforim Blog is not my own blog. I am a writer on it like lots of others.

P. 162: “In his [Shapiro’s] view, the tenets of belief are Rambam’s innovations and are therefore disputable.” The word “innovation” implies that the Rambam invented the doctrines he includes in his principles. I never said such a thing.

P. 163: In giving examples of supposed distortions in my book, Grossman writes: “One example is when Shapiro cites Rivash in support of the statement that Christians believe in a three-part God while the Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God – a clear rejection of the Second Principle. A quick glance at Rivash reveals that he does indeed say such a thing as a quote from a philosopher, which he then proceeds to debunk.”

I would like readers to take a look at the relevant page of my book (p. 40) and see if what Grossman says is correct, that I cited Rivash in support of the statement that Kabbalists believe in a ten-part God.

Pp. 166-167. Readers should see my discussion here. I cite a number of sources that support what I say, and thus contrary to what Grossman states, I do not just insist on my right to offer an interpretation. In note 21 Grossman writes: “Dr. Shapiro attempts to salvage his theory by speculating that the Vilna Gaon may not have really meant what he wrote.” Readers can turn to my discussion here and will see that I never said that.

p. 173. We see here an example of how Grossman just talks past me, leading to nothing productive. I had questioned why in the Mishneh Torah the Rambam did not require that the convert be instructed in the Thirteen Principles. In his original essay, Grossman criticized this question which he said showed lack of understanding of the method of the Mishneh Torah. In my response here I cite rabbinic authorities who deal with this very question, thus showing that it is not an ignorant point, as Grossman portrayed it. One of those I cite is R. Chaim Sofer who writes [1]:

והדבר נפלא הלא יש י”ג עיקרי הדת והי’ לו לב”ד להאריך בכל השרשים

Grossman replies that while I quote R. Sofer, I neglect “to apprise [my] readers of R. Sofer’s subsequent words ‘Rambam didn’t add to the talmudic formula,’ exactly as I had written and directly in contradiction to Dr. Shapiro’s position.”

Here is the paragraph from R. Sofer.

R. Sofer says exactly what I quote him as saying. The final passage in the paragraph, which is mistranslated by Grossman, has nothing to do with my point and does not refute it in any way.

I would also note that in his fascinating Ha-Emunah ha-Ne’emanah, p. 142, R. Dovid Cohen offers an explanation as to why אין לומדים כל י”ג עקרים טרם שיתגייר הגר

P. 174. In Limits I discuss different approaches to the phenomenon of tikkun soferim. While the generally accepted approach is that tikkun soferim is not to be taken literally, I cite a number of authorities who did take it literally and assumed that Ezra or the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah made changes to biblical texts (including the Torah). In a later post here (which has nothing to do with Grossman), I cited some other examples of sources that understood tikkun soferim literally. One of those I mentioned is R. Pesach Finfer.[2] He states as follows:

ראוי הי‘ עזרא שתנתן התורה על ידו . . . והוא ונחמי‘ עשו תיקון סופרים וכינויי סופרים

Grossman says that it is unclear what I see in this line. What I see is that R. Finfer states that Ezra and Nehemiah were responsible for tikkunei soferim. This is the same language that is used in other sources that take the notion of tikkun soferim literally. For those who don’t take it literally, Ezra has nothing to do with tikkun soferim. Following the sentence I quoted from R. Finfer, he refers in parenthesis to Radbaz’s comment which offers a different perspective, that tikkun soferim is halakhah le-Moshe mi-Sinai. Here is the page.

While on the topic of tikkun soferim, let me share something else that is relevant. In Limits I mentioned that the evidence points to Rashi understanding tikkun soferim literally, namely, that the biblical text was changed by the Scribes. There was some pushback to this assertion by those could not accept that Rashi would ever hold such a position. Yet subsequent to my book, Yeshayahu Maori also came to the conclusion that Rashi understood tikkun soferim literally.[3] Furthermore, R. Avraham Pessin also explains that Rashi understands tikkun soferim literally.[4] He states that according to Rashi the Anshei Keneset ha-Gedolah had the authority to alter the text of the Torah:

ומבואר ברש”י שניתן הכח לאנשי כנסת הגדולה לשנות גם תורה שבכתב

I find this significant, because although one can point to numerous statements that such an approach in unacceptable, R. Pessin sees it as the clear meaning of Rashi (and among traditional interpreters he is not alone in this understanding[5]). Here are the pages from R. Pessin’s sefer.

Speaking of tikkun soferim, the most famous of which is Gen. 18:22: ‘ואברהם עודנו עומד לפני ה, I found something in R. Solomon Algazi’s Yavin Shemuah (Venice, 1639), p. 15a, which is fascinating and, as far as I know, unique in rabbinic literature. It is also in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle which establishes that the Torah in its entirety was delivered by God to Moses. In discussing ‘ואברהם עודנו עמוד לפני ה, R. Algazi claims that when God dictated the Torah to Moses, He said that God was standing before Abraham. But Moses on his own, out of respect for God, changed the verse to read that Abraham was standing before God. I guess we can say that this falls between the traditional view that the verse was never changed and the view that the Scribes altered the verse out of respect for God. For R. Algazi it was Moses who made the alteration, but as far as Maimonides is concerned, this is just as problematic as viewing tikkun soferim as an alteration of the Scribes. Here is R. Algazi’s surprising interpretation.

כיון דהב”ה היה אומר לו על כל מלה כתוב א”כ ודאי דהב”ה אמר לו וה’ עודנו עומד דלא איש אל ויכזב ומשה היה משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב ואברהם עודנו עומד א”כ מה שייך בזה הלכה למשה מסיני והוא על דרך המשל שדוד המלך יאמר לסופר מהי’ [מהיר] כתוב שדוד מצוה לפלוני והסופר משנה על דרך כבוד וכותב המלך דוד אבל המלך בעצמו אינו אומר כתוב המלך מצוה כך הב”ה יתעל’ לא אמר למשה שהיה סופר כתוב ואברהם עודנו עומד שהוא דרך כבוד אלא אמר לו האמת וה’ עודנו עומד ומשה שינה על דרך תיקון סופרים

Pp. 175-176. I wrote here: “Even when it comes to other basic ideas of Maimonides, which are not included as part of the Thirteen Principles, we find that scholars wondered why Maimonides did not include them in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah.” I then cited Joseph Ibn Caspi in support of this statement. Here is the page from Amudei Kesef u-Maskiyot Kesef (Frankfurt, 1848), p. 113.

What I would add here is the interesting point that Ibn Caspi, Commentary on Guide 2:32, actually concludes that the Mishneh Torah’s formulation is in line with Maimonides’ true view, namely, that prophecy is a completely natural phenomenon which will of necessity occur if someone has both the ability and training. On the hand, he thinks that the view expressed in Guide 2:32 as being the “opinion of our Law and foundation of our doctrine”, namely, that God might prevent a prophet from prophesying, is not Maimonides’ true opinion, but is an example of the famous “seventh contradiction”.

Grossman is also mistaken when he writes, “In Moreh Nevuchim [2:32], Rambam argues—in opposition to the philosophers—that prophecy is only activated proactively by God, even if the requisite conditions are met.” Maimonides actually says the exact opposite of this. He states that the Torah view of prophecy is identical to the philosophic view except that God can choose, if He wishes, to prevent someone from prophesying even though according to nature he would be a prophet. This is the opposite of what Grossman states, that “prophecy is only activated proactively by God.”

Pp. 176-177: I stated that the notion that Maimonides changed his mind about including Reward and Punishment among the Principles was suggested by R. Solomon of Chelm. To this Grossman replies that Maimonides did not withdraw his belief in Reward and Punishment. It is just that in the Mishneh Torah he classified things differently. Again, Grossman misunderstands. I never said that Maimonides rejected the idea of Reward and Punishment. I was only referring to whether it should be included as part of the Thirteen Principles. As R. Solomon of Chelm explains, Maimonides’ later understanding is that Reward and Punishment is included as part of other principles and thus does not need to be listed separately.

Pp. 177-178. Grossman claims that I cite R. Avraham Hochman in an improper way, and in response R. Hochman states that the entire theme of his sefer “is to show that Rambam’s Principles are absolute and that he derived all of the Thirteen Principles from the Talmud.” He also is quoted as saying, “Academics often quote a question and forget that for the wise, the question is half the answer. But the professors stick to the question and don’t wait around for the answer.” Grossman then speaks of my “brazenness of citing a recognized authority to promote a position that the author himself openly rejects.”

I don’t know if R. Hochman reads English, and could see what I actually wrote, or if he only is responding to what Grossman told him. Either way, his letter, published at the end of Grossman’s article, is a complete distortion of my position. Leaving aside the particular examples that people can see, look at this characterization:

ולפי הבנה מוטעית זו שפך חמתו על הרמב“ם מנין לו לחדש הלכה שאינה במשנה . . .

Talk about describing a writer inaccurately!

And what is one to make of this statement from him?

אין שום חולק על עיקר מיסודי הדת אלא שנחלקו על מספר העיקרים

It is precisely against such a false view that I wrote my book in the first place. A typical response to the book has been that the opinions in opposition to Maimonides are “not accepted.” But here he denies that anyone actually disagrees with any of Maimonides’ principles. With such an outlook, we can’t even begin to have a dialogue.

The following paragraphs are what I quoted from R. Hochman. Nothing I quote here has any connection to what Grossman states or what R. Hochman writes in his letter responding to my supposed incorrect conclusions that I derived from his words. As the reader can see, contrary to what R. Hochman states, I mention not just his question but his answer as well. Of all of Grossman’s criticisms this one is very difficult to understand, because there is nothing at all controversial in what I write, and my summary of R. Hochman is accurate.

As for my wondering why the Principles are not listed together as a unit, which Grossman sees as an illustration of how I am unaware of the structure of the Mishneh Torah, let me begin by repeating what I wrote in my last post: R. Yaakov Nissan Rosenthal, on the very first page of his commentary Mishnat Yaakov to Sefer ha-Madda, also wonders about the point I made, that the Thirteen Principles as a unit are never mentioned in the Mishneh Torah. (Had I known this when I wrote my book, I certainly would have cited it.)

ותימא למה לא הביא הרמב“ם בספרו ה”יד החזקה” את הענין הזה של י“ג עיקרי האמונה, וצ”ע

R. Avraham Menahem Hochman writes:

מאחר וכל כך חמורה הכפירה, וגדולה החובה לדעת את י”ג העיקרים, כיצד זה השמיטם מספרו ה”יד החזקה”, ולא כתבם כפי שסדרם בפירוש המשנה

והנה אחר שהתבאר שהאמונה בי”ג העיקרים היא בסיס לתורה נשוב לשאלה הרביעית (בסוף פרק ה’) אשר לכאורה היא פליאה עצומה מדוע השמיט הרמב”ם ביד החזקה את החובה הגדולה להאמין בי”ג עיקרים, באופן חיובי, ולא סדרם כי”ג יסודי האמונה שחובה להאמין בהם

R. Hochman goes on to explain that most of the Principles are indeed mentioned in Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah in a positive sense (even if not as a unit of Thirteen Principles). He also notes the following important point, that when principles of faith are mentioned in the Talmud, they are never listed in a positive sense, that one must believe X. Rather, they are listed in a negative sense, that one who denies X has no share in the World to Come. Why Maimonides, in his Commentary on the Mishnah, chose to formulate the Principles in a positive sense and require active belief as a necessity for all Jews—something the Talmud never explicitly required—is an interesting point which we will come back to. Regarding some of the Principles the difference is clear. For example, according to the Talmud, denial of Resurrection is heresy, but one who has never heard of the Resurrection and thus does not deny it, or affirm it, is a Jew in good standing. For Maimonides, however, the doctrine of Resurrection must be positively affirmed. In a future post we can come back to which Principles even the Talmud implicitly requires positive affirmation of (obviously number 1, belief in God, but there could be others as well).

After reading these paragraphs, please look at Grossman’s article, pp. 177-178, and R. Hochman’s letter, pp. 188-191, and you will see that nothing there has any connection to what I actually say when referring to R. Hochman. I simply cite him to show that the question I asked is not an ignorant one, as Grossman stated. I also cite R. Hochman’s answer. So Grossman’s seizing on this and printing a lengthy letter from R. Hochman is nothing short of bizarre.

Pp. 178-179. Grossman writes:

Things really start to go “off the rails” when we examine Shapiro’s claim in the name of R. Shlomo Fisher, zatzal, that one need not accept Mosaic authorship, that the Rambam abandoned his principles, and that “Rambam’s formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief was far from universally accepted.”

Grossman responds that he found these attributions questionable so he checked with the family and students, and “they were horrified that anyone would be using R. Fisher’s name in this way.”

What exactly did I say that Grossman finds so objectionable? In Limits of Orthodox Theology, p, 126, I quote the following sentence from R. Bezalel Naor, Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism (Spring Valley, 1999), p. 8: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor tells us that he heard this insight from his teacher, R. Shlomo Fisher. (Anyone needing any indication of the high regard that R. Fisher held R. Naor in can examine their published correspondence.)

Grossman sees this as a radical statement whose authenticity he cannot accept. I don’t think readers of this blog will find it radical at all. In fact, I have elsewhere mentioned that R. Fisher made this statement in discussing R. Judah he-Hasid’s view on the authorship of the Torah, which diverges from Maimonides’ Eighth Principle. Contrary to Grossman, in none of my posts did I quote R. Fisher as saying that one need not accept Mosaic authorship. I simply cited his view about R. Judah he-Hasid. I also quoted his opinion that medieval Ashkenazic authorities had a different view on the matter of complete Mosaic authorship than Maimonides in that they did not regard the assumption that there are post-Mosaic verses in the Torah as heretical (a view also argued by Prof. Haym Soloveitchik, see here). Grossman claims that R. Fisher could not have said this, even though students can testify to him having said it. In fact, I can state right here that I too heard him make this distinction.

The final point that Grossman can’t accept is what I mentioned in 2007 here, from a student who attended R. Fisher’s weekly shiur on Avnei Miluim. “Interestingly enough, he reported to me that a few weeks ago R. Fisher declared that he believes the Rambam abandoned his system of 13 Principles, the proof being that they are never mentioned as a unit in the Mishneh Torah. In my book, I noted that R. Shlomo Goren held the same view.” Grossman summarizes my statement as “the Rambam abandoned his principles,” which would lead the reader to think that I was saying that the Rambam no longer accepted the truth of his 13 Principles, which would indeed be a radical position. But what I was really talking about, and I refer to this approach in my book, is the notion that the Rambam no longer accepted a system of 13 Principles. This would mean that he adopted another model to categorize the essential dogmas of Judaism, or as R. Goren suggested, maybe he later advocated a conception of Jewish theology like that held by Abarbanel, that one should not distinguish between so-called principles of Judaism and other aspects of the religion, since all must be regarded as equal.

When all is said and done, nothing I have attributed to R. Fisher is strange, radical, or unbelievable. Why Grossman would be horrified by what I wrote is anyone’s guess.

Grossman quotes from a 2018 letter put out by R. Fisher (some might say, put out by his family). In the letter, R. Fisher writes that no one is to quote anything he said in matters of Aggadah and hashkafah without the approval of his sons. This was because in the past he had been misquoted. We all know that misquoting of gedolim is nothing new. There are numerous examples of particular great rabbis being quoted as saying contradictory things, and of these rabbis stating that no one should believe anything they hear in their names unless they hear it directly from the rabbi. Yet this has never stopped people from quoting the gedolim and never will. This is simply the nature of the world. 

R. Fisher gave thousands of shiurim (a tiny percentage of them are online) and there are thousands of students who heard words of Torah from him. As with all students, they have repeated, and will continue to repeat, that which they heard from the rav, just like all students do. They have been doing this for at least fifty years. If R. Fisher’s letter means what it says, that no one is to repeat things that R. Fisher said, then this is simply an impossible request, and it also seems unprecedented in Torah history. It would mean that one who listens to a shiur from him dealing with non-halakhic matters, e.g., this one here, is not allowed to repeat any insights he heard. It would also mean that much of what was mentioned at the many eulogies, where people recalled things R. Fisher said, or on sites such as this and this, is inappropriate. It would mean that students are not allowed to repeat that which they heard from their rebbe. I don’t see how this is possible.

P. 179. Here is something that is really comical. Take a look at this page.

Grossman states that I mention that Shadal (Samuel David Luzzatto) claims that Ibn Ezra believed in post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. He writes: “Upon checking the source, we find yet another instance of Dr. Shapiro citing an author as believing something he actually vociferously denies. As Shadal points out, the primary source for this take on Ibn Ezra was the noted heretic Baruch Spinoza.”

I say this is comical since Grossman doesn’t have a clue as to what is going on here. The only way I can explain this is that Grossman merely skimmed the passage and thus misread it.

Shadal rejects Spinoza who (intentionally?) misunderstood Ibn Ezra to be hinting to the notion that Moses was not the author of the Torah.[6] This misinterpretation of Ibn Ezra is what Shadal rejects (and this is not mentioned in my book because it has nothing to do with what I was discussing). However, exactly as I said, Shadal also states that Ibn Ezra believed in certain post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. Here is the page in Shadal that I cited (as well as the subsequent page) so everyone can see it with their own eyes.

Shadal’s outlook in this matter is no secret, and he repeats this point elsewhere. See e.g., Mehkerei ha-Yahadut, vol. 2, p. 195:

מה שכתב ראב”ע ברמז, היות בתורה מקראות שנוספו בה אחר כמה דורות

In Iggerot Shadal, vol. 2, p. 246, he writes:

כי סברתו שיש בתורה מקראות נוספים קשה מדעת זולתו שקצת מלות מוטעות

In my book and subsequent posts I have identified around forty medieval and more recent authorities who share Shadal’s viewpoint in this matter.[7] Incidentally, R. Joseph Kafih, in his first work written when he was seventeen years old, attacks Shadal for attributing this view to Ibn Ezra. See Sihat Dekalim (Jerusalem, 2005), p. 90.

I must also note that Grossman does not simply miss Shadal’s meaning, but he also compares me to Spinoza in trying to ensnare the unsuspecting masses. If this wasn’t so comical, I might actually take offense. But I think readers should wonder how an author could say such a thing, and how a journal could publish it. It is simply beyond belief, made all the more absurd since Grossman is so mistaken about what Shadal actually states.

Incidentally, since we are talking about Shadal, it is worth noting that R. Elijah Benamozegh, whose commentaries on the Torah continuously dispute with Shadal, when it comes to Ibn Ezra and post-Mosaic additions, Benamozegh has the same position as Shadal. Here is what he writes in Ha-Levanon, July 3, 1872, p. 351, now easily available in the new edition of Em la-Mikra: Bereshit (Haifa, 2021), p. 114:

בראש ספר דברים ובמקומות אחרים רומז בעיניו מולל באצבעותיו ועל דלתות השער יתאו לרמוז שיש דברים בתורה נוספים ולא משה כתבם רק נביאים וצופים. ואני הפרתי את עצתו וקלקלתי את מחשבתו

P. 181. “Shapiro’s weakest scholarship appears when discussing kabbalistic matters.” I agree, which is why I try not to discuss these matters. If I do have to deal with them, I only rely on what recognized authorities have said,

P. 182. I wrote that according to Maimonides’ Seventh Principle, Moses was the greatest prophet who ever lived and there will never be a prophet as great as him in the future. Grossman says that I am mistaken, and that Maimonides does not declare that Moses was the greatest prophet, only that he was the “father of all prophets.” This statement is astounding. There are hundreds of discussions of the Seventh Principle in traditional rabbinic literature, and as far as I know they all agree with what I have written. The entire basis of the Seventh Principle is that Moses was greater than all other prophets. Maimonides states explicitly in the principle that “All are below him in rank . . . He reached a greater understanding of God than any man who ever existed or will ever exist.” This is so obvious that I do not want to spend any more time on it. It is only a mystery how Grossman could say something so wrong, and I do not know of anyone else who has ever written on this principle and made such a mistake (which Maimonides regards as heresy). Did no one from the editorial board of Dialogue read the article before publication? It is nothing short of incredible that an issue of Dialogue includes the false claim that there is no principle of faith to believe that Moses was the greatest prophet in Jewish history.

In addition to his explicit assertion that Moses was the greatest prophet, Maimonides does have an interesting formulation, stating that Moses is the father of all the prophets who preceded him and all who came after him. How can one be the “father” of those who came before him? R. Hayyim Dov Moshe Halpern explains it well[8]:

“אב” הכונה במעלה ולכן שייך לומר שהוא אב גם למי שקדם לו

Here are some passages from other authors whose books are found in my library. They all explain the principle correctly.

R. Yochanan Meir Bechhoffer writes[9]:

רבינו השווה את האמונה בעליונות משה רבינו על הנביאים הקודמים לו, לאמונה בעליונותו של הבאים אחריו. ואף כי אמת היא, שכך נחתמת התורה, לא קם כמשה וגו’, מ”מ יש לעיין מה הצורך בזה. נהי דהמאמין שאחר משה בא נביא גדול ממנו שיכול לבטל דבריו, כפר בנבואת משה, אך מה הסתירה לנבואת משה בחשבה שמי שקדם לו היתה גדול ממנו, הלוא הנביא הקדום לא יחדש דבר על פני משה

R. Ben Zion Epstein writes[10]:

ולכן נתנה למשה דוקא, כי היה דבוק כולו באין סוף ב”ה. ולכן היתה מדרגת נבואתו גדולה מכל הנביאים, ושכינה מדברת מתוך גרונו.

R. Avraham Menachem Hochman’s heading to his discussion of the Seventh Principle reads[11]:

להאמין בנבואת משה רבינו שהוא למעלה מכל הנביאים שהיו לפניו ולאחריו

And to mention one classic text (I could mention many more), R. Elchanan Wasserman writes[12]:

והנה בעיקרי הדת שמנה הרמב”ם בפירוש המשניות (פרק חלק) מנה שם עיקר אחד שכל דברי נביאים אמת, ועוד עיקר אחר שנבואת מהרע”ה היתה למעלה מנבואת כל הנביאים

R. Yaakov Weinberg in his Fundamentals and Faith, pp. 73ff. elaborates on Moses’ “prophetic superiority” (p. 81)

And finally, R. Yehudah Meir Keilson’s new edition of Kisvei ha-Rambam (which I encourage everyone to acquire), affirms my point (which as mentioned, is simply what Maimonides himself explicitly says, so it is not a question of how to interpret him).

Keilson, p. 82: “The Seventh Principle teaches that the nature of Moshe’s prophecy is unparalleled. . . . Rambam elaborates on Moshe’s prophetic superiority, which was the result of his moral and intellectual perfection.”

Keilson, p. 82 n. 1. “The title ‘father of all the prophets’ . . . Rambam takes this to refer to Moshe’s superiority in prophecy to that of all other prophets.”

Keilson, p. 154: “Rambam uses the expression that Moshe was the ‘father of all prophets’ to signify that he was the greatest of all prophets – that the level of his prophecy was superior to that of any prophet who ever was or who ever will be.”

Pp. 184-185. None of this makes any sense, and what Prof. Menachem Kellner writes has no relevance what I was referring to. I asked a simple question, which I later found that others asked as well (see here): Why does the Rambam not specify that future converts are to be instructed in the 13 Principles?

Coming next: Reviews of books by Benji Levy and Eitam Henkin, and an unknown article by R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

* * * * * * *

הוא האיש אשר שם את הרמב”ם סיר רחצו, ועל הראב”ע השליך נעלו

Professor Moshe Idel is Max Cooper Professor in Jewish Thought, Department of Jewish Thought at Hebrew University, Jerusalem, and Senior Researcher at the Shalom Hartman Institute.

This post at the Seforim blog by Prof. Moshe Idel, about Kabbalah manuscripts kept in the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (Vatican Library), is an expansion of remarks delivered at the February 2009 symposium hosted at the National Library of Israel, in Jerusalem, to honor the publication of the catalog by Benjamin Richler, ed., Hebrew Manuscripts in the Vatican Library (Città del Vaticano, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2008); 791 pages, available here.

This is his first contribution to the Seforim blog.

On Some Unique Kabbalistic Manuscripts in the Vatican Library and Their Contribution to the Scholarship of Kabbalah in Jerusalem

Prof. Moshe Idel
The Hebrew University, Jerusalem

I. The Beginnings of Christian Kabbalah and the Vatican Library

In the summer of 1280, Abraham Abulafia (1240- c. 1291), a Kabbalist who founded the special prophetic or ecstatic version of the Kabbalah, attempted to meet Pope Nicholaus III in Rome. This special effort came as the result of a revelation he had ten years earlier in Barcelona, which presumably consisted in a command to go to Rome at the eve of the Jewish New Year, in a mission reminiscent of Moses’ encounter with Pharaoh: namely to discuss issues related to redemption. From the scant information we have, it seems that though Abulafia was not shy to compare himself to Moses, he was more interested in discussing his belief about the nature of authentic Judaism with the Pope, than in the national rescue of the Jews from the burden of Christendom, or in an attempt to convert the Pope, as some scholars have claimed.  He believed Judaism to be a mystical religiosity based on pronouncing divine names in order to reach a mystical experience, understood in spiritual redemptive terms. He took a spiritualized Judaism — constituted by inner experiences which are achieved by a mystical technique – to be a higher form of religion than any of the three monotheistic religions. The Pope was reluctant to see the Kabbalist and retreated for a rest to the beautiful family castle of Soriano nel Cimini, north of Rome. The stubborn Abulafia, who was informed he would be burned if he insisted on following the Pope, nevertheless arrived at the castle, only to learn that the Pope had died of apoplexy that same day.     This non-encounter of a Kabbalist actually eager to see the Pope, and a Pope who otherwise took a keen interest in the spiritual Franciscan faction known as the Minorites, is however not the end of this story. After two weeks of arrest in the house of the Minorites in Rome, Abulafia was released and made his way to Messina, Sicily, then part of the kingdom of Aragon. There he remained active for more than a decade, writing a variety of Kabbalistic books and teaching several Jewish intellectuals, and probably also some Christians, his Kabbalah. This openness by a Kabbalist, who deliberately ignored the interdiction against revealing the Kabbalah even to most Jews, is an important development that should be taken seriously when discussing Jewish esotericism and its vicissitudes. The prophetic Kabbalistic trend remained part and parcel of the Jewish mystical literature in Italy, and a significant component of the nascent Christian Kabbalah in late 15th century Florence.       The translation of some of Abulafia’s writings from Hebrew to Latin by Flavius Mithridates was one of the most important factors in the impact of ecstatic Kabbalah on the Italian Renaissance. Mithridates, who called himself inter alia also Guillelmus Raimundo Moncada, was a convert to Christianity, who delivered a lecture in the presence of Pope Sixtus IV. Of Sicilian extraction, Mithridates, the son of a Syrian Jew called Nissim Abul- Faraj, presumably studied Abulafia’s Kabbalah in his youth in the island. The special place the ecstatic Kabbalah enjoys in his Latin translations must have something to do with his ability to fathom the rather difficult Hebrew treatises he so skillfully translated. However, his concentration on Latin translations of books of Kabbalah started in a later period of his life — in 1486 in Florence, years after he left Rome — and after his visit to the Holy See. Those translations are the fountainhead of the first most important piece of Christian Kabbalah, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola’s Conclusiones, which include dozens of theses based on Kabbalistic views. Those 900 Conclusiones were condemned immediately by the Pope, and the young count had to flee Italy.  He returned to Florence only when the next Pope, related to the Medici family, was elected. However, most of Flavius Mithridates’s Latin manuscripts, which played such an important role in the emergence of Christian Kabbalah, and thus Abulafia’s Kabbalistic treatises (in Latin and in a slightly Christianized form)  have found their way to the Vatican Library, arriving more than two centuries after their composition. Today they are catalogued as MSS 189-191, together with the Hebrew manuscripts, and a fourth one, as Vatican, Cod. Chigi A. VI.190.      Those are unique manuscripts, autographs of Mithridates. They testify to his sophisticated translations, mistranslations and deliberate glosses and interventions which sometimes change the intention of the Hebrew original, in order to look closer at Christian tenets. They remained there for more than four centuries, before a serious study of their content and an analysis of their impact on Giovanni Pico was undertaken by Prof. Chaim Wirszubski, of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. His groundbreaking inquiry, Pico della Mirandola’s Encounter with Jewish Mysticism (Harvard University Press  1987), opens the way for a much more profound understanding of the precise sources of some important aspects of Pico’s thought. Wirszubski’s fine scholarship (done in Jerusalem under the auspices of the Israeli Academy for Sciences and Humanities) brought some of Abulafia’s Kabbalistic visions as mediated by Mitridathes to the attention of the scholarly community. In fact he discovered in the Latin translation an Abulafia work, that had been preserved only in a poor and quite fragmentary form in the original Hebrew.     Let me point out that in addition to the rich material belonging to Mithridates’s Latin translations from Abraham Abulafia and his circle, the Vatican collection contains several important treatises of this Kabbalist in their original Hebrew (e.g., Sefer ’Or ha-Sekhel, Sefer ha-’Ot, Sefer Hayyei ha-‘Olam ha-Ba’). Even more importantly, the collection houses the lengthiest extant part of one of Abulafia’s earliest books, Sefer Mafteah ha-Re‘ayon, (Heb. 291), a book not found in this form in any other manuscript. This fragment, written originally in 1273, is quite important for understanding the earliest phase of the thought of this ecstatic Kabbalist.  In this sense it is similar to the above-mentioned Latin translation that preserved another book of Abulafia’s written in the same year.  If we add to the presence of these manuscripts in the Vatican Library the fact that Abulafia’s prophetic books, (some containing quite enigmatic forms of spiritual apocalypses, found in very few manuscripts) are found in the Angelica library – which is outside the scope of Benjamin Richler, ed., Hebrew Manuscripts of the Vatican Library (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2008) – it seems that the written voice of Abulafia’s Kabbalah found its way to the Vatican libraries in quite an impressive manner. The recent project of a critical edition of those translations, undertaken by Giulio Busi and Saverio Campanini among others, brings scholarly attention to the basic sources of early Christian Kabbalah.

II. Vatican MS Heb. 202 and the Beginning of Jewish Kabbalah

The Vatican collection contains an important and unique manuscript compiled sometime in the 14th century and copied in a Spanish hand. This manuscript contains a variety of Kabbalistic material stemming from several schools: Provencal, Catalonian, and Castilian forms of Kabbalah. Some of the traditions found there are related to the beginnings of some historical phases of Kabbalah (especially in early decades of the thirteenth century) and served as building stones for the scholarly edifice regarding this period by Prof. Gershom Scholem of the Hebrew University, the famed pioneer of the study of Kabbalah. In this codex Scholem discovered quite early in his career an epistle that was the most important single document supporting his reconstruction of the relations between the Provencal school as represented by Rabbi Isaac Sagi-Nahor, the so-called “father of Kabbalah,” and two important younger Rabbis, active in the Catalan city of Gerona, Rabbi Moses ben Nahman (Nahmanides) and his cousin Rabbi Jonah Gerondi. The exchanges between these rabbis concern the disclosure of Kabbalistic issues by other Kabbalists; and the scant data found in the epistle are indispensable testimonies in any attempt to describe the dissemination of Kabbalah from Provence to Catalonia and from there to Castile. This epistle exists in a unique manuscript, and since its publication by Scholem in the thirties and its more detailed analyses in the forties and sixties —  especially in his Origins of the Kabbalah, trans. R.J. Zwi Werblowsky (Princeton University Press, 1989) — no other similar manuscript of this epistle has been identified. As in the case of the beginning of Christian Kabbalah, here too our understanding of the beginning of the Jewish Kabbalah owes much to unique Vatican manuscripts.

III. Rabbi David ben Yehudah he-Hasid’s Hebrew Translations of the Zohar

The most important documents of Kabbalistic literature are indubitably the Zoharic literature. The Zoharic literature, which was written between the late seventies of the 13th century and the early decades of the 14th century in Castile, mostly in Aramaic, was immediately canonized and became the cornerstone for a variety of Kabbalistic schools, especially the mid-16th century Kabbalists who were active in Safed. The processes involved in the emergence of this literature, its authors, its canonization and its various kinds of reception still need extensive research. The Hebrew manuscripts found in the Vatican library may help illuminate some aspects of those processes. Let me offer a major example in this direction.     Two anonymous manuscripts in the Vatican collection, Heb. 62 and 168, contain a Hebrew translation of some Aramaic parts of the Zoharic commentaries on the Pentateuch.  Though similar in many ways, each the two manuscripts is also unique. An analysis of the style of the translation and a comparison to segments of other Hebrew translations of Zoharic passages found in the Hebrew writings of Rabbi David ben Yehudah he-Hasid, led me to identify the anonymous translator as this Kabbalist. A late 13th or early 14th century Kabbalist, Rabbi David may well be not only one of the first commentators on this book, but quite plausibly its first translator ever. This means that these two codices can aid us to conjecture about the Aramaic versions underlying the translation. We thus have here the earliest extensive testimonies about the nature of the text of the third most important book in Judaism. Moreover, in some cases in those two manuscripts, the version of the Hebrew translation is accompanied by lengthy Aramaic passages, which may constitute the earliest extensive excerpts from the Zoharic literature to have reached us in the original language. Though some short quotes from this Hebrew translation are found in 16th century Kabbalists, it is only in the two above-mentioned manuscripts that dozens of pages are found.     However, let me point out that there are also other codices in the Vatican collection which may turn into a mine of important information related to the history of the text of the Zohar. Two examples are the anonymous Hebrew translation of the Zohar in Heb. 226 and the texts found in the first part of MS Heb. 203.  Both of these deserve special attention by the scholars of the Zohar.

IV. The Byzantine Kabbalah in the Vatican Library      

We mentioned above the main Kabbalistic codices in the Vatican that represent developments that in Sicily, Italy, and the Western Europe. However, several important manuscripts found in this library, may contribute to a future history of a rather neglected center of Kabbalistic literature, the Byzantine one. Compared to the Provencal and the Spanish centers, the Byzantine Empire was a relatively late center; and, from the mid-14th century a different form of Kabbalah emerged there.. Its precise conceptual contours, as well as the treatises that were written there, slowly emerge as the scholarship of Kabbalah is advancing. It has become more and more plausible in the last decades that important Kabbalistic treatises were written in the Empire, rather than in Spain or Italy as scholars previously believed. This is the case of some classics of Kabbalah like Sefer ha-Temunah, Sefer ha-Peliyah and Sefer ha-Qanah but there is a plethora of related smaller treatises that were also written in the Byzantine Empire. The Vatican holds several important manuscripts that may fruitfully serve as the starting point for a study of this Kabbalistic center. MSS Heb. 188, 194, 195, 218, 220, 223, are outstanding examples of the arrival of all the major pieces of Byzantine Kabbalah to Italy and the impact this arrival on the nature of Italian Kabbalah during the late 15th century, and also of the Christian Kabbalah since the beginning of the 16th century.      In this context, let me mention two other unique Kabbalistic manuscripts. These relate to a dispute regarding the belief in metempsychosis that took place in the city of Candia, in Crete in the second part of the 15th century. Two lengthy codices, MSS 105 and 254, contain the documents listing the pros and cons of this belief and against it, as reflecting the views of, respectively, Rabbi Michael ha-Kohen Balbo and Rabbi Moshe Ashkenazi. The vast majority of the arguments in this sharp controversy are unknown from any other manuscript. Thus only the Vatican manuscripts may enable a reconstruction of the various debates related to this important type of Kabbalistic belief. This reconstruction was done by a third important Hebrew University scholar, Prof. Efraim Gottlieb. It has been continued more recently in a Ph. D. thesis of Dr. Brian Ogren at The Hebrew University of Jerusalem.

We may conclude that the variety of the various manuscripts found in the Vatican collections reflects the variety of Kabbalistic literature since its inception up to its peak in the mid-16th century. In short, I offered above several examples for the indisputable contributions the Kabbalistic manuscripts found in the Vatican collection did contribute in the past for understanding major phases in the history of Kabbalah. The present Catalogue, an excellent example of what a catalogue of Hebrew manuscripts should be, will certainly facilitate the study of additional manuscripts and will enrich our understanding of the evolution of the various forms of this vast literature. We may hope, in an era less interested in philological studies than earlier, that the tradition of close reading of manuscripts in a serious manner, which was a vital part of scholarship at the Hebrew University, will remain a vital component of the future studies of Kabbalah; and the Vatican codices will continue to yield new findings for a better understanding of a vital aspect of medieval Judaism.

V. Thanks for the Free Access  

Let me turn to another dimension of the Vatican collection, which is not related to the content of manuscripts but with the politics of access to the Hebrew manuscripts found in this library. When the Institute of Hebrew Manuscripts — whose researchers were the main contributors to the Catalogue that is celebrated here — was founded at the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem, many libraries over the world agreed to have their manuscripts microfilmed and consulted free by scholars. However, most of them required researchers to request permission in writing before allowing their manuscripts to be copies or published. Only three libraries out of dozens — the Vatican in Rome, the Escorial in Spain, and the Cambridge University Library in England — were ready to give scholars free automatic permission to microfilm, photocopy or publish their manuscripts. For persons acquainted with the inevitable vicissitudes involved in correspondence with libraries in general, (including to be sure the Italian ones), this automatic permission constituted a special act of encouragement to engage these manuscripts. This kind renouncement of the legitimate rights of these libraries facilitated a much easier access to some Kabbalistic manuscripts.  That in turn was especially helpful for scholars who — like myself in the initial stages of my study of Kabbalistic manuscripts — did not live in Jerusalem,. This explains why in some of my writings I relied upon Vatican manuscripts, even when there are also other manuscripts containing a certain Kabbalistic treatise. Abulafia’s major treatise Sefer ’Or ha-Sekhel, found in the Vatican Library Heb. 233 is one case in point. I take this opportunity to thank the Vatican Library, late as these thanks may be, for the generosity that contributed not only my modest studies of the Kabbalistic material, but also of many other scholars, who also benefited from the liberal approach of the directors of the that Library.