Ten Commandment Representations in Hebrew Manuscripts & Books: Artistic Approaches to Theological Issues in Judaism

Ten Commandment Representations in Hebrew Manuscripts & Books: Artistic Approaches to Theological Issues in Judaism

Dan Rabinowitz

Today, the Ten Commandments or Decalogue[1] are among the most prominently featured symbols associated with Judaism. The Decalogue is represented by two tablets, generally connected and rounded at the top. This representation occupies a central place within synagogue architecture, often displayed on the exterior or interior of the edifices and frequently above the ark itself, which is regarded as the most sacred element within the building. However, it is noteworthy that these practices only began to emerge in the 16th century. The exact origins of this practice remain unclear, but it is likely that they were influenced by the Christian adoption of the Ten Commandment tablets in art as representative of Judaism. Some scholars suggest that this may not be an instance of benign cultural exchange but might have its roots in anti-semitic legislation, which mandated that Jews wear badges shaped like the Ten Commandments with rounded tops. This imposition may have influenced Jewish consciousness, potentially resulting in eventual self-association with this symbol.[2]

Historical evidence indicates that the ancient Jewish community used of other symbols such as the lulav, shofar, menorah, ark, scroll, and etrog, but not the luchos. The absence of the luchos is unsurprising when one considers the inherent difficulties of accurately replicating them. There is substantial ambiguity surrounding the exact proportions and shape of the tablets. Consequently, accurate reproductions were improbable, preventing their adoption as a common, recognizable symbol. Apart from the Israelites in the desert who witnessed the Sinai revelation, the tablets were not publicly displayed but remained housed within the ark. The fact that the luchos were kept in the ark and never removed suggests that they were intentionally not intended for public display.

In contrast to other Temple implements that are meticulously described, the details of the luchos are only generally mentioned as being made of stone and numbering two. This lack of elaboration has resulted in uncertainty even regarding the inscriptions on the stones and their shape. Today, it is widely accepted that each tablet contained five commandments and can be sourced to the Mekhilta DeRebi Yishmael, Yisro (Horovitz-Rabin, 233-234); however, according to the prevailing opinion in the Talmud Yerushalmi (Shekalim 6:1; Sotah 8:3), each tablet contained the entire Decalogue. Additionally, Rav Saadia Gaon asserted that one tablet recorded the version given in Exodus, while the other contained the version from Devarim.

It was not until the early rabbinic period that there was an explicit discussion regarding the shape of the luchos. The two Talmuds are inconsistent as to the exact dimensions and shape of the tablets (and both versions appear in midrashic literature). According to the TY, the tablets were rectangular, six tefachim in length and three in width. The TB describes them as square, six by six. Some attempt to reconcile the two Talmudic versions, there is clearly no consensus are single traditional regarding the shape.[3]

Beyond the challenges in determining and reproducing accurate divisions and shapes, there is a theological concern with their display. The Mishna records that the recitation of the Decalogue was part of the daily service in the Beis haMikdash. Evidence of this practice is found in the Nash Papyrus, dating between the second and first centuries BCE. In that document, the Ten Commandments appear before the Shema. Although the Nash Papyrus is likely either tefillin or a mezuzah, it seemingly confirms inclusion in the liturgy even outside of the Temple.[4] Nonetheless, the liturgical practice was abolished by Rabban Gamaliel II of Yavne. The rationale for the abolition was that some sect, the Minim, had elevated the Decalogue above the rest of the Torah, and the continued public recitation might imply acceptance of that position.[5] It is worth noting that even when the Decalogue was incorporated into the liturgy, there is no mention of it being displayed.

None of these sources mention the most common shape, tablets with rounded tops. According to one theory, this shape was borrowed from the Roman writing tablet, the diptych, which consisted of two tablets hinged together. Regardless of the original source, the rounded-topped tablets became the standard in Christian art from at least the 12th century. Since Jews adopted the luchos as a symbol much later, roughly in the fifteenth to sixteenth centuries, they chose the most commonly recognized version, which features rounded tops.[6] 

The earliest extant depiction of the luchos appears in the Dura Europos Synagogue fresco, where Moshe is holding a scroll. While Dura Europos does not settle the issue of the shape of the tablets, it does begin to reveal some details about how the luchos iconography has evolved over time to address what can be referred to as the “minim conundrum.” The conflict between the Torah recording God delivering just the Decalogue at Sinai, whereas Jews believe that the entire Torah was given at Sinai.

Illuminated Manuscripts and the Ten Commandments: Resolving the Issue of the Minim

Many manuscripts, including Haggadahs, prayer books, and Bibles, feature imagery related to the Decalogue episode. Beyond merely illustrating the text these illustrators intentionally depicted the scene to address and resolve the minim issue and link the delivery and reception of the Decalogue with the entirety of the Torah. For example, many Ashkenazic Haggadahs include the Decalogue scene, typically accompanying the Dayenu, although two include it later in the liturgy. [7] The earliest, known as the Birds Head (dating to the beginning of the 14th century), depicts two fingers emerging from the cloud, presenting two rounded-topped tablets to Moshe. Immediately below, Moshe appears again transferring the tablets, now five, to two figures, presumably Aaron and/or Yehoshua. The dual tablets have been converted into five, referencing the Five Books of the Torah.[8] The Birds Head Haggadah’s metamorphosis during the transmission process of the two tablets into five is the only example of this solution in any Jewish (or non-Jewish) manuscripts.[9]

Figure 1: Birds Head Haggadah, fol. 23r, Israel Museum

A similar rereading of the Giving of the Law occurs in the thirteenth-century Parma Machzor. Unlike the Birds Head, which transforms the two tablets into five in their delivery, the Parma Machzor, however, depicts God giving Moshe three tablets, presumably alluding to the three books of Tanakh, the entire corpus of the Torah.[10]

Figure 2: Parma Machzor (Biblioteca Palatina, MS Parm. 2887)

Beyond transforming the tablets into more than the two mentioned in the Torah, other forms of iconographical methods were used to address the minim issue. Writing material underwent significant changes throughout the centuries. It was initially etched onto stones, like the luchos, then papyrus (like the Nash), and eventually, using animal skins that are much more resilient than papyrus, it was transformed into scrolls. Finally, “the most revolutionary invention in the history of the book” – the codex – was created at the beginning of the Common Era and became commonplace by the third century CE.[11] The codex, which we recognize as a book today, consists of individual pages written on both sides and addresses the major limitations of the scroll: the difficulty of quickly moving from one section to another and the fact that only one side could be used. Christians were the first to adopt this form sometime in the third century CE. Jews, however, adopted the book or codex much later than most other cultures, likely only in the ninth century.[12] This is unsurprising, as the scroll was not merely a device for Jews, but was imbued with special holiness.

These two forms, the scroll and codex, were used to address the minim issue. In these instances, they assumed the role of the entire torah as contrasted with the tablets, recording just the Decalogue. Scrolls are substituted for the tablets in at least two Haggadahs from the late fifteenth century (c. 1470-1480): the Nuremberg II and the Yahuda.

Figure 3: Second Nuremberg Haggadah (Center for Jewish Art)

Figure 4: Yahuda Haggadah (Center for Jewish Art)

In both, Moshe holds up an open scroll with wooden poles in a manner familiar from the hagbah ceremony. Likewise, in the well-known illuminator Joel ben Simon’s c. 1470 Machzor, now referred to as the Rothschild Weill Machzor, Moshe lifts the scroll. In a later Haggadah, known as MS 1388 Paris (1583), Moshe is holding a partially open scroll, though it is not raised like the other examples.[13] 

Figure 5: Rothschild Weill Machzor (Center for Jewish Art)

A similar image appears in the Ulm Machzor, c. 1430; however, Moshe is receiving it directly from God, echoing the approach of the Parma Machzor that there was no transformation, rather the delivery itself was the entire Torah.

Figure 6: Second Darmstadt Haggadah 9v (Center for Jewish Art)

The codex is similarly employed to address the minim issue. In the Second Darmstadt Haggadah (here), Moshe appears at the top right, beneath the shofar. He is holding two connected rectilinear tablets, hinged at the bottom. A man, dressed differently than Moshe and likely Aaron or Yehoshua, appears at the bottom right holding two separate rectilinear tablets, which are clearly sourced from Moshe. Finally, a group of Israelites appears in the bottom center of the page. The leader is now holding a book. This transforms the tablets into a book or Torah. The connection between the tablets becomes clearer as the person holding the book points to Aaron/Yehoshua and the tablets, indicating that the book’s source is the tablets and ultimately what Moshe received directly from God. Therefore, collectively, the page illustrates the transmission and transformation of the Luchos, from the ten into the Torah – received from God by Moshe, which was then handed off to Aaron and finally to the Jewish people.

Figure 7: Detail Second Nuremberg Haggadah (Center for Jewish Art)

There is perhaps another example of the codex that addresses the minim issue. In the Laud Machzor, c. 1290, the illustration for the piyyut recited on Shavous, Adon Ammani, the upper register has an angel delivering two separate rectilinear tablet while on the right side the Israelites receive a single item with a loop at the bottom. Unlike the Birds Head or other manuscripts that has the transformation into the Torah during the transmission stage; here, the only item the Israelites received was this single item with the loop. What is this unusual single panel with a loop? It may be a a codex. Manuscripts and codices were originally kept in cabinets, armaria, but in the late 13th and early 14th centuries they were more commonly placed on desks, and the practice of chaining books to prevent theft began (see here). Perhaps the loop in the Laud Machzor is a ring of a chained codex and another provides another example of using the codex to address the minim issue.

Figure 8: Laud Machzor 127r (Bodleian Library, MS Laud Or. 321)

Hebrew Book Illustrations & Anti-Jewish Representations

Illustrations in printed books, however, do not appear to be concerned with solving the minim issue. To the contrary, some iconography in printed books can be read to diminish or even undermine not only the torah’s transmission but even the continued applicability and viability of the Decalogue. Printed illustrated Hebrew books depict either Moshe receiving or transmitting the tablets or simply Moshe and the tablets without context. Of the four printed mother Haggadahs that served as models for nearly all subsequent printed illustrated Haggadahs, only one, Amsterdam 1695, depicts ma’mad har sinai. Unlike the other illustrations in that edition, which are modeled after Mathis Merian’s Bible, this illustration was borrowed from other Amsterdam Hebrew prints. As we have previously discussed, while the engraver clearly used Merian as a model he deliberately altered the images to suit the Jewish text rather than their original Christian source. Merian’s imagery for ma’amad har Sinai was entirely at odds with the Jewish view, and therefore, the illustrator sought an alternative source. Merian only depicts the sin of the Golden Calf and not the delivery or transmission of the Decalogue/Torah. That aligns with Christian theology that focuses on the sins of the Jews, rather than the monumental and exceptional example of God speaking directly to the Jews and imparting his Torah.

Figure 9: Amsterdam Haggadah, 1695 (Center for Jewish Art)

The Amsterdam Haggadah used the imagery that first appears on the titlepage of the 1679 Amsterdam Humash and reused on many subsequent editions of the Humashim from Amsterdam and other cities. Here, the mountain is in the middle and Moshe is still on top, receiving the tablets. They are square, and one is held in each of his hands. The illustration does not depict Moshe delivering the Torah or tablets; therefore, it does not address the tension between the Decalogue and the torah. Nonetheless, arguably implicitly, the inclusion of the image on a title page of a Humash, obviates the need to include additional imagery for the minim issue – Moshe receiving the tablets is literally attached and is the precursor to the entire Torah.

Figure 10: Humash, Amsterdam, 1679 (Gross Family Collection)

While the Decalogue scene does not appear in the other mother Haggadahs, Moshe with the luchos is used as one of the border figures in the Venice 1609 Haggadah. Moshe is carrying two connected round-topped tablets and has a light emanating from his forehead. This illustration of Moshe and the luchos is among the most common title page illustrations in Hebrew books.

Figure 11: Title Page Shu”t Rashba, Hanau, 1610 (Gross Family Collecdtion)

It first appears adorning the titlepage of Shu”T Maharil, Hanau, 1610. However, that image was clearly borrowed from a non-Jewish source. Moshe has horns, with rounded topped tablets, and is flanked by Aaron wearing a bishop’s mitre and holding a censer.[14] There is another nuance to the image that may also specifically Chrisitan, and more important theologically than whether Moshe had horns or light emanating from his head. Unlike the Jewish sources discussed above, Moshe does not hold the tablets aloft. Rather, they are standing on the ground, his hand on top. This aligns with the Christian view of the Decalogue; after Jesus, it was relegated to a secondary role or was even superseded by the New Testament. The depiction in Shu”T Hashiv R’ Eliezer, published in 1749 in Neuwied, Germany, presents a particularly striking variation. In this volume, Moshe’s hand is shown flat, seemingly serving to drive down the tablets into the ground rather than grasping them, as seen in the Hanua prints. Additionally, unlike other works that either show some of the text on the tablets or leave them blank, Hashiv depicts the tablets filled with lines, effectively obscuring or erasing any text.

Figure 12: Shu”t Hashiv Reb Eliezer, Neuwied, 1748

The unique nature of Hashiv’s title page is amplified when compared with to similar title pages, one may have even served as the a model for Hashiv. Critically, that title page includes subtle yet significant modifications. For example, David Gans, a disciple of Maharal, in his work Sefer Nitzahon, published in Altdorf in 1644, created one of the most exquisite Hebrew title pages. It features a similar depiction of Moshe as seen in Hashiv, with his hand resting atop the tablets that include some lines, resembling Hashiv. However, these tablets prominently display the Hebrew “Aseres ha-Dibros,” clearly underscoring their importance.

Figure 13: Sefer Nitzhon, Altdorf, 1644

Another contrary example is Yefeh Anaf, by R. Shmuel Jaffe, Frankfurt a.d. Order, 1696, which depicts a Jewish Moshe with rays emanating from his head, holding round-topped tablets with the beginning of each directive in Hebrew.

Like the three manuscripts discussed above, there is another title page that features Moshe with a scroll instead of tablets. This title page, which appears in a number of different Amsterdam books, for example, Sefer Shenei Luchos ha-Bris, Amsterdam, 1698, Yad Yosef, Amsterdam, 1700, and Eshlei Ravrevei, Amsterdam, 1711, is an amalgamation of four biblical figures, each symbolizing one of the four crowns: Torah (Moshe), priesthood (Aaron), kingship (Dovid), and a good name (Shlomo).

Figure 14: Shnei Luchos ha-Bris, Amsterdam, 1698

A later Amsterdam edition of the Humash combines all three Amsterdam illustrations on the title page. The 1827 Amsterdam Humash features Carl Christian Fuchs’s engraved title page. At the top is the image of Moshe accepting the two square tablets. Moshe appears below on the left, holding round-topped tablets with lines representing the text, and in the center is a crown of Torah. Fuchs includes another Amsterdam illustration at the bottom of the page, this one from the 1695 Haggadah, which depicts the temple.

Figure 15: Humash, Amsterdam, 1827

There is another unique depiction of the tablets on an early 19th-century title page. In the third edition of Mendelsohn’s Humash, Fürth, 1801-1803, Moshe and Aaron flank the title page. However, Moshe, with rays, holds only his staff. In the central image, the ark of the covenant is present, and the two tablets, with rounded tops, are superimposed in the foreground.

Figure 16: Derech Selulah, Fürth, 1802 (Gross Family Collection)

One printed book, however, R. Yosef Ergas’ Shomer Emunim (Amsterdam, 1736), may be a unique example that specifically addresses the minim issue. This work, which discusses the legitimacy of Rabbinic Judaism, includes a representation within a circular design surrounded by laurel leaves at the center of the upper register. Initially, the figure appears to be Moshe holding the luchos. However, the accompanying legend identifies the figure as “Rabbenu ha-Kodesh,” Rabbi Yehudah ha-Nasi, the compiler of the Mishna and a key figure in rabbinic Judaism. This suggests that the Mishna – Rebi Yehuda’s text – is synonymous with the luchos.

Figure 17: Shomer Emunim, Amsterdam, 1736 (Moreshet Auctions)

This interpretation is further supported when compared to the title page model for Shomer Emunim, David Nieto’s Matteh Dan, Kuzari ha-Sheni, (London, 1724). This work also defends rabbinic Judaism and depicts the figure labeled “Rabbenu ha-Kodesh” encircled in the upper register, but he is holding a book with the inscription “Mishna.” The printers of Shomer Emunim modeled the title page on Matteh Dan, yet went further in visually equating the Mishna with the Decalogue.

Figure 18: Matte Dan, London, 1714 (Moreshet Auctions)

Except for the Amsterdam prints, title page illustrations consistently show round-topped tablets, unlike Hebrew manuscripts where tablet shapes vary. This likely stems from printing developing after Christian art standardized the round-topped representation. Table 1 summarizes twenty-two manuscripts depicting the tablets, with no consistent shape linked to a specific era or region. In one instance both rounded and rectilinear shapes in the same manuscript.[15] In the Sarajevo Haggadah, the tablets appear on two separate panels (panels 30 and 32): once when Moshe receives and conveys the Decalogue, and a second time in the scene depicting what may be the Tabernacle, Solomon’s Temple, or the Messianic Temple.[16] In the first instance, the tablets are rounded, while in the second, they are rectilinear. It is conceivable, though admittedly improbable, that the original designs were rounded and depicted in the first panel. However, in the second panel depicting the temple, when the decision was made to construct the ark with a square shape, the tops may have been removed to ensure a better fit.

The Ultimate Message of Har Sinai

One final manuscript illustration is notable not only for the shape or material of the tablets, but for the broader message it conveys. The entire nation was present at ma’amad Har Sinai, including men, women, and children. The Dresden Machzor, circa 1290, depicts Moshe receiving the tablets on the upper right of the panel. On the left side of the top register, Moshe delivers them to a kneeling woman, with no men depicted. This representation indicates that the Torah was given to and applies to everyone equally. The shape itself conveys a universal message. The luchos feature rounded tablets within a rectangular frame, symbolizing that everyone fits within Judaism’s broad parameters.

Figure 19: Dresden Machzor, c. 1290 (MS Dresd. A.46A, 202)

Table 1: Manuscripts & the Shape of the Tablets

Square/Rectilinear

Rounded

Scroll

1. Laud Machzor (Southern Germany, c. 1290, Bodleian, Laud Or. 321, fol. 127v) Birds Head Haggadah (Southern Germany, c. 1300, Israel Museum, MS 180/57, fol. 23) Nuremberg II Haggadah (1470-1480, Schocken Library, MS 24087)
2. Rothschild Machzor (Florence, 1492, JTS, fol. 139) Sarajevo Haggadah (Spain, 14th Century, Sarajevo Museum) Yahuda Haggadah (mid 15th century, Israel Museum, MS 180/50)
3. Tripartite Machzor (Southern Germany, c. 1320, British Library, MS. Add. 22413, f. 3r) Parma Machzor (13th century, Western Ashkenaz, Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS Parm. 2887, fol. 101v) Rothschild Weill Machzor (c. 1470, NLI, MS 804450, fol. 203)
4. Schocken Bible (Southern Germany, c. 1300, Schocken Library, MS. 14840, fol. iv) Dresden Machzor (1290, Mscr. Dresd. A.46.a, fol. 408) MS 1388 Paris (1583, Bibliothèque Nat., MS 1338, fol. 14r)
5. Regensburg Pentateuch (Regensburg?, c. 1300, Israel Museum, MS 180/52, fol. 154v) Ulm-Treviso Siddur (1450-1453, Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS Parm. 2895, fol. 271)
6. Sarajevo Haggadah (Spain, 14th Century, Sarajevo Museum) Floersheim Haggadah (1502, Zurich, Floersheim Collection, fol. 15).
7. First Leningrad Bible Egypt, (?) 929, fragment (Leningrad Public Library, MS II 17)
8. Parma Bible (Parma, Biblioteca Palatina, MS Parm. 2710, fol. 3r)
9. King’s Bible (Catalonia, Spain, 1384, MS King’s 1, f. 3v)
10. Catalan Bible (Catalonia, Spain, third quarter of 14th century, MS Add. 15250, f. 3v)
11. Harley Catalan Bible (Catalonia, Spain, c. 1350, MS Harley 1528, f. 8r)
12. Darmstadt Haggadah II (Universitäts-und Landesbibliothek, Darmstadt, Cod. Or 28, fol. 9v)

[1] Although these terms are inaccurate because the Torah does not refer to them as commandments, huqqim, mitzvos, or mishpatim, rather aseres hadivarim or aseres hadibros, nonetheless, as that is the most widespread description we use that term.
[2]
See generally, Gad Ben-Ami Sarfatti, “The Tablets of the Covenant as a Symbol of Judaism,” in The Ten Commandments, As Reflected in Tradition and Literature Throughout the Ages, ed. Ben-Zion Segal (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 1985)(Hebrew), 353-388; Ruth Mellinkoff “Round-topped Tablets of the Law,” Journal of Jewish Art I (1974): 28–43.

Almost immediately after the luchos were displayed in synagogues, some argued that their display contravened the injunction against elevating the Decalogue above the rest of the Torah. The first to raise this issue was Rabbi Yom Tov Lipmann Heller. He describes how one synagogue in Prague displayed them and equates the display with the public reading, subsequently banning the practice. Rabbi Heller, who served as the rabbi of the Altneu Synagogue (Old-New Synagogue), incorporated other symbols within the building. The walls bear various abbreviations corresponding to verses that describe the decorum and purpose of prayer. The ark is flanked by two lions at the top, and the luchos do not appear anywhere within the synagogue. Rabbi Heller was most likely referring to the Maisel’s Synagogue which, today, displays the luchos above the ark. This synagogue was originally built in the 1590s. However, since it burnt down in 1689 we cannot be certain that the design of the ark was the same during Rabbi Heller’s lifetime. Whether or not this was the synagogue Rabbi Heller referenced, it serves as an example of how his opinion never gained traction even in Prague. Indeed, the Maisel’s Synagogue also displays the Decalogue on the exterior of the building, as does the Baroque Synagogue (originally built in 1622/23, also destroyed in the 1689 fire). The Klausen Synagogue’s building was completed in 1694, and its ark is topped by the luchos. For more information, see Prague Synagogues (Jewish Museum in Prague: 2011), which includes photographs of the synagogues and descriptions of their respective histories.

For a discussion of the issue of Decalogue displays in synagogues see Yechiel Goldhaver, Minhagei ha-Kehilos, vol. 1 (Jerusalem: 2005), 45-48n1, who collects examples throughout Europe of synagogues with the luchos displays as well as sources discussing the propriety of the practice.

Regading contemporary sources that discuss what shape to use for the luchos, rounded, square or rectangular, see Reuven Chaim Klein, “Square versus Rounded,” available here. Of note is the opinion of R. Yisroel Yaakov Fisher, Chief Rabbi of Badatz Eidah Chareidis, who argues, the contra-historical position, that the original tablets were rounded. Indeed, according to Fisher, there were rounded at the top and bottom.
[3]  See Chaim Kenefsky, Baraysa d’Melehes haMishkan, Da’as (Beni Brak, 1996), 38, and Meir Ish Shalom, Beritah, 43; see also Menahem Silber, “Aron ha-Edus ve-Luchot ha-Bris: Tzurotom u-Tavnesam,” in Sefer ha-Zikhron le-Rebi Moshe Lifschitz, ed. Rafael Rosenbaum (New York: 1996), 236-42; see also, Midrash Devarim Rabba, ed. Saul Liebermann (Jerusalem: Shalem, 1992)122n2.
[4] See Ephraim Urbach, “The Place of the Ten Commandments in Ritual and Prayer,” (Hebrew), in Ten Commandments, ed. Segal, 128.
[5] See Urbach, “Place,” 132-136, 138-142; Von V. Aptowitzer, “Bemerkungen zur Liturgie und Geschichte der Liturgie,” MGWJ 74 (1930), 104-115. Both also attempt to identity of the sect of the minim.
[6] See Mellinkoff, “Round-Top.”
[7] See generally, Sarit Shalev-Eyni, “Receiving the Law: Visual Language and Communal Identity in Medieval Ashkenaz,” Gesta 55(2), (Fall 2016), 239-255. Shalev-Eyni discusses many of the examples below.
[8] See Marc Michael Epstein, The Medieval Haggadah: Art, Narrative, and Religious Imagination (Yale Univ. Press, New Haven, 2011), 90; Metzger, Haggadah, 303. Metzger demonstrates that the second figure is also Moshe. Id.
[9] Metzger, Haggadah, 303.
[10] Shalev-Eyni, “Receiving of the Law,” 246-249.
[11] Anthony Grafton, “From Roll to Codex: A Christian Initiative,” in Crossing Borders, Hebrew Manuscripts as a Meeting-place of Cultures, ed. Piet van Boxel and Sabine Arndt (Bodleian Library, Oxford, 2012), 15.
[12] Grafton, “Roll,” 20.
[13] Metzger, Haggadah, 305.
[14] Regarding the image of the horned Moshe see Ruth Mellinkoff, The Horned Moses in Medieval Art and Thought (University of California Press: Berkeley, 1970. For a collection of articles discussing the depiction of Moshe throughout history and reproductions of many examples, see Moïse Figures d’un Prophète, ed. Juliette Braillon, (Musée d’Art et d’Histoire du Judaïsme: Paris, 2015).
[15] The Sarajevo Haggadah is the only Haggadah manuscript from the Sefard tradition that depicts the Giving of the Torah. While the Sephardic manuscripts precede the Haggadah text with the Biblical Cycle from Genisis to Exodus, the remaining Haggadahs end before the episode at Mount Sinai. See Metzger, Haggadah, 302.
[16] See Shalom Sabar, The Sarajevo Haggadah History & Art (Sarajevo: 2018), 233-235; 239-241. Sabar only offers Solomon’s Temple or the Messianic Temple. Nonetheless, it is equally possible that this panel simply depicts what follows the Giving of the Law, the construction of the Tabernacle.




Finders Keepers? The Itinerant History of Strashun Library of Vilna, Pt I

Finders Keepers? The Itinerant
History of Strashun Library of Vilna

by Dan Rabinowitz
            Since the 1990s, the issue of reparation of items looted by the Nazis has become a high-profile issue, with numerous successful attempts at reuniting owners with their stolen possessions. The recent movie, Monuments Men, fictionalized the
Allies’ post-war efforts that led to the locating some of these looted treasures. While some of the best-known examples of these recovered treasures are related to art, gold, or Swiss bank accounts, Hebrew books were also part of the Nazi’s appropriation scheme and were included in the items recovered after World War II. Some of the books recovered belonged to a unique institution, the first Jewish public library, and tracing the journey of these books, up to present day, parallels that of its patrons, tortured, uncertain, and yet despite all odds, surviving.
 
Matisyahu Strashun the Library’s Architect and Founder
 
Matisyahu Strashun[1] was born in 1817 in Vilna.  His family was among the Vilna elite.  His father, Samuel Strashun (also known as Rashash), whose notes/annotations – he never published a stand-alone work – to numerous classic rabbinic works, including Midrash Raba, Mishna, and Maimonides’ Mishna Torah, and Talmud Bavli.[2]  In terms of breadth, the latter is most
impressive, as his notes cover nearly every single page[3] of the Talmud Bavli.[4]
Matisyahu too was a Talmudist, his comments to Baba Batra and Eruvin are incorporated into the Vilna edition of Talmud Bavli, and was proficient in the entire corpus of rabbinic literature.[5] Matisyahu espoused views that were consistent with the haskalah movement.[6] For example, Matisyahu supported Max Lilienthal’s controversial attempt to reform “the Jewish educational system within the Pale Settlement,”[7] and Matisyahu help found and financially supported two schools in Vilna aligned with the haskalah.[8] Matisyahu corresponded with leaders of the haskalah movement, Isaac Ber Levinsohn, among others, and Strashun’s articles appeared in both rabbinic as well as haskalah newspapers and journals.[9] And, his home was a salon of sorts for traditionalists and the maskilim of Vilna.[10]
Strashun was independently wealthy and derived his substantial income from commercial and banking activities rather than rabbinic activities.  Yet he was considered a leader of the Vilna community.  He served on a number of communal institutions including the Vilna Tzedakah Gedolah.  And, at his death, he donated over 50,000 rubles to charity (approximately $1 million today). Leading Eastern European rabbis, R. Yitzhak Elchonon Spector and R. Jacob Joseph (later Chief Rabbi of
New York) among them, eulogized Strashun.[11] Posthumously, a street in Vilna was named after him.[12]
Throughout his life, he was an avid book collector, and, at the time of his death, amassed a collection of over 5,700 books and manuscripts.[13] His collection included incunabula, rare and controversial works (e.g. Me’or Eynaim), and manuscripts – from his father in addition to other authors. As reflected in his outlook during his lifetime, Strashun’s collection included rabbinic and haskalah works and books in non-Hebrew languages.[14]
During Strashun’s lifetime, numerous printing houses and bookstores populated Vilna, providing access to most contemporary books, including in languages other than Hebrew.[15]  But, unfortunately, we do not have much information regarding how and when Strashun amassed his collection that extended well beyond those contemporary books, beyond that when he traveled he took the opportunity to seek out and purchase books. For example, when he took therapeutic trips to the spa he also took that opportunity to seek out and purchasing books.  In addition to Strashun’s spa trips, in 1857 he went on a Rabbinic tour of Eastern Europe and visited R. Shlomo Yehuda Rappaport (Shi”r) in Prague and R. Tzvi Hirsch Chajes.[16] But, R. Rapahel Nathan Rabinowicz, a book dealer and noted book collector, commented after visiting Strashun that while Strashun’s collection was larger than Rabinowicz’s, his collection was richer in rare and older books.[17]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
STRASHUN’S COPY OF SHIR’S EREKH MILIM
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
STRASHUN MARGINALIA TO EREKH MILIM
Creation of the Vilna Jewish Public Library
 
At his death in 1885, Strashun left no direct heirs.  He did, however, provide for the disposition of his library in his will.  In the past, those with large libraries had sold or left it to relatives,[18] Strashun elected a novel approach, rather than an individual or individuals he bequeathed his library to the Vilna Jewish community writ large, with instructions to establish a stand-alone public library.[19] His vision for the library was modeled on “the non-Jewish libraries that he saw [20] in the Diaspora.”[21] To that end, Strashun provided not only the books but also the funds to support the creation and sustainment of the library.[22]  Immediately the impact of this decision was apparent. At his funeral, among other enumerated good deeds and scholarship mentioned was, “the large library he left after death for the benefit of the community,” and which will “provide a
lasting legacy beyond that of any actual blood descendants.”[23]
            The creation of a public library out of Strashun’s personal collection was not a swift one, for seven years following Strashun’s death “the books remained under
lock and key” and were available only to those with special access.[24]  It remained in this state even though there were trustees and enough money to cover its operations.[25] Although the
library did not open to the public, the trustees were not idle during this time; and in 1889, published a complete catalog of Strashun’s collection.  His collection was comprised of 5,753 items, 63 of which contained marginalia in his hand.[26]
The Library is Open to the Public
 
In 1892, the Library was finally opened to the public. At the time, however, it remained in Strashun’s home.[27]  For years
after the library was opened to the public, in legal documents, the listed owner was not the Vilna community but one of the Library’s trustees. Although Strashun’s intent was clear – that the Library belonged to the community and not a trustee or any other individual – the Library’s legal status clouded that directive. In the late 1890s, there was a successful campaign to correct that issue, and the community becomes the sole owner of the Library, fulfilling Strashun’s wishes regarding ownership.[28]
The Library & Its Impact on the Vilna Community
 
In 1902, the Library finally moved into a building of its own in the courtyard of the Great Synagogue of Vilna.[29]  From this
point forward, the Strashun Library would be one of Vilna’s most important institutions.
            The Strashun Library was a Jewish public institution and, to fulfill the needs of the public, additional steps were required beyond building and maintaining
infrastructure and clarifying ownership.
Specifically, although Strashun’s collection was substantial both in
terms of size and breadth, it was still the product of one man’s idea of a library.  For this reason, Hillel Noach Steinschneider, one of Vilna’s leading scholars and historians, pleaded with the public to donate books and ensure the completeness of the library and fulfill its mission of serving the entire community.  He acknowledged that Strashun amassed a very impressive private collection, but that for a public library his collection alone was insufficient because “it is lacking in books for people” whose interests did not align with Strashun’s.
That is, a public library is not only a place open for all but also one that provides value for all.  Consequently, the library’s composition must reflect the entirety of its audience and not a single collector. Apparently, this plea was successful,[30] many Vilna scholars donated their collections to the Library in addition to the general public, and, by the 1930s, the Library had grown to over 35,000 volumes.[31] Additionally, Vilna’s Tzedakah Gedolah organization also provided funds for acquisitions.  Books acquired through those funds contain a special stamp or receipt.
The Library was open seven days a week and became the central meeting location for the residents of Vilna.[32]  The Library’s visitors were representative of Strashun’s commitment to both traditional and modern ideas and ideals.  Patrons included “rabbis and talmudic scholars who were studying responsa and Halakhic
works” and who sat side-by-side with the “younger generation who were reading haskalah works.”[33] When dignitaries came to Vilna, the Strashun library
was a waypoint.[34]
 The intent was to have Herzl be the first visitor to the Library, however, the Russian government prohibited him appearing at the Library.[35]  Other famous Jewish personalities did visit and signed the guest book, known as the Golden Book, including Sholem Yankev Abramovitsh (Mendele Mokher Seforim), and Hayim Nachum Bialik, in addition to more traditionalists, R. David Friedman of Karlin, R. Shlomo Ha-kohen, and the Chafetz Chayim.[36] The Library was not only known for its visiting
Jewish celebrities, but also for its well-regarded holdings.  According to A.J. Heschel, it was the largest public Hebraic library in Eastern Europe reported holding over 40,000 volumes.[37]  On the one hand, the Strashun library was recognized as one of the greatest cultural institutions in Eastern Europe, on the other, like so many public institutions, the Library struggled to raise sufficient funds throughout the early part of the 20th century, consistently hampering its ability to maintain and build its
collections in addition to limiting its public access.[38]  But, it would not be funding that led to its demise but the Nazis and their campaign to appropriate Jewish cultural treasures.
The Nazi’s Looting of the Strashun Library
 
            During World War II, Vilna was occupied and controlled first by the Soviets, then the Lithuanian government, the Soviets again, and finally by the Germans.[39]  While under Lithuanian and Soviet rule, the Library had its share of challenges, but none
of those compared to the Nazi’s systematic campaign to identify, collect, and appropriate important Jewish treasures –specifically books – and, consequently, important libraries. The intent was that these pillaged libraries would supplement the already substantial Judaic holdings of Frankfort City Library.[40]  Immediately after the Nazis occupied Vilna, the Strashun Library as Vilna’s “oldest and perhaps most distinguished” library was identified as a target for this campaign.[41]
            Less than a month after occupying Vilna, the Nazis “enlisted” the Library’s librarian, Chakil Lunski, who had served in that capacity for over forty years, in addition to others, to select, identify and catalog important books including “the incunabula and manuscripts in the Strashun Library” to be sent back to Germany.[42]  Needless to say, Lunski was “distraught” that “he [was] supposed to help remove the treasures from ‘his’ Strashun Library that he protected for 45 years!”[43] Consequently, a number of books from the Strashun Library ended up in Frankfort, Germany.[44]
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Post War Efforts to Reclaim Heirless Jewish Property 
 
            The Library’s building did not survive the war, but some of its books did.[45]  After WWII, the Allies recovered thousands of items the German’s looted and collected them at the Offenbach Depot outside of Frankfort.[46]  Much of what was recovered was likely heirless and the Allies faced with the dilemma of restitution. Initially, the Americans took the position that heirless property should return to the country from which it was looted.[47]  This position raised the specter of rare and important Judaica and Hebraica returning to Poland or even Germany.  This outcome was unacceptable to many Jews.[48]  Some elected to influence the fate of looted heirless books through traditional democratic means, others took matters into their own hands.[49]
Free For All? The Disposition of Other Significant European Libraries
 
The Strashun Library was by no means the only library identified at the Offenbach depot.  There were numerous other
libraries, both public and private that ended up at Offenbach, without any clear method of repatriation. This lack of clarity leads to inconsistent results at best.  Indeed, first-hand accounts of post-war Germany confirm the ad-hoc, doubtful legal grounds and sometimes completely lawless reparation regime in the post-war chaos.  In many instances, individuals made many of the decisions regarding disposition with little information and virtually to no oversight.
For example, Solomon B. Freehof, who himself amassed one of the greatest responsa collections in the 20th century, spent time in post-war Germany and encountered heirless property and describes attempts of repatriation. He indicates that
half of the heirless Jewish books recovered by the Allies went to the Jewish National and University Library (“JNUL”) at the Hebrew University (now the National Library of Israel),[50] which was “quite right” because some unnamed person or entity had determined “that clearly the [JNUL] should take the place of the vanished Jewish communities of Europe.”[51]
            Others agreed with Freehof that the natural repository for heirless books of European origin was the JNUL in Jerusalem.  Most notably, Judah Magnes, and the trustees of the JNUL wanted to recover and claim for the JNUL as much heirless Judaica as possible.  The JNUL dispatched Gershom Scholem, the eminent Kabbalah scholar, and bibliophile, to Europe to locate and return heirless property.  He discovered a significant number of important books and manuscripts in the Offenbach Depot
and did everything in his power, including employing very underhanded means, to repatriate items to Hebrew University.[52]
Initially, Scholem had a very difficult time securing authorization to even enter Germany and the Offenbach Depot.[53]  When he was eventually granted permission to view the contents of the Depot, it was with the explicit condition that he
could not remove any items.  But, for Scholem, some items proved too enticing.  Scholem identified a number of rare and important books and manuscripts.  He was concerned that if the disposition of these items were left to the Allied authorities the items would not end up in Jerusalem, but, instead, at the Jewish Theological Seminary, or some other institution, in the United States.  This was unacceptable to Scholem. To facilitate the transfer of these items to the JNUL, Scholem colluded with a Jewish American serviceman to smuggle the works out of Offenbach. Scholem placed the collection into five boxes but did not label
their contents and provided a fake name on the invoice.  The American serviceman personally ensured that the boxes were shipped to Paris, after which they were sent to the JNUL.  Eventually, the Allies found out about the theft, and demanded the return of the five boxes, even lodging a formal diplomatic complaint.  In the end, after much back and forth, the boxes remained at the JNUL.[54]
As germane here, eventually, the boxes’ content were cataloged and it was determined that a third of the works were not heirless – their ownership was clear and restitution was possible.[55]  Nevertheless, the content of the five boxes were incorporated into the JNUL.
Another example of unilateral ostensive benevolent restitution occurred with the “library of the prestigious Klaus synagogue of Mannheim, [that] ended up with U.S. Army Chaplin, Rabbi Henry Tavel.” Who, “on his own authority . . . shipped it to his alma mater, the Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati.”[56]
The Lost & Found: The Strashun Library Post-WWII
 
The determination regarding the disposition of the Strashun library after the Holocaust was no different from other heirless property, ad hoc and questionable.  Lucy Dawidowicz, worked for YIVO before WWII and spent time in Vilna.
After WWII, on behalf of the Jewish Distribution Committee after World War II, she went to the Offenbach Depot to assist with identification of heirless books.  Prior to coming to Offenbach, she had “promised [herself] that [she] would do [her] best to
safeguard the rights of possible owners and heirs.”[57]  And, when she came upon some of the remains of the YIVO collection,[58] she “was in a state of exaltation” and in a letter home wrote that she “had ‘a feeling akin to holiness, that [she] was touching something sacred.’”[59]
Dawidowicz also came upon books that she “could identify came from the Strashun Library.”  Whereupon she recalled “a
strange story” that the head of YIVO, Max Weinreich,[60] had told her “back in 1940.” Weinreich told her that during the brief period of time when the Soviets had returned Vilna to Lithuanian control, YIVO attempted to move its library out of Vilna.[61]  And, that “the trustees of the Strashun Library, also fearing for the sake of their library, asked the Vilna YIVO to ship [the Strashun Library] too.” Unfortunately, the shipment never occurred and both libraries remained in Vilna and ultimately plundered by the Nazis.
While the shipment never occurred, in Dawidowicz’s telling the attempted shipment was an irrevocable act with significant implications regarding the Library’s ownership.  She inferred that the Strashun trustees request to join the YIVO shipment also implicitly ceded ownership of the Strashun Library to YIVO. Thus, there she had no doubt regarding the proper disposition of the Strashun Library. Based entirely upon the “strange story” she heard, and even though according to her retelling the Strashun trustees had only intended YIVO to act as a shipper,[62] Dawidowicz told the Director of the Offenbach Depot that the heirless “remains of the Strashun Library ought to be considered as YIVO property.” She appealed to the Allied authorities and her position carried the day and the remnants of Strashun Library went to YIVO in New York.[63]
In a recent exhibit devoted to YIVO’s Strashun collection, the issue of the Strashun Library’s provenance is not discussed in any detail.  Instead, the book accompanying the exhibit simply states that all the remnants of the Strashun Library “were
rescued from the ruins of Europe and brought back to YIVO in New York in 1947.”[64] YIVO’s library catalog again implies that all the recovered books went to YIVO and links the disposition of the Strashun Library with that of YIVOs, the provenance note explains that “[t]he Strashun Collection, along with the YIVO Vilna collections, were liberated by the American Army, and
re-repatriated to YIVO in New York in April 1947.”[65]
            In reality, not all the remaining Strashun books went to YIVO, nor did everyone agree with the determination that YIVO was the rightful heir of the Strashun Library.
To be continued in Pt. II…

 


[1] For biographical information and sources see Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, (Jerusalem: Hotsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1953), 47-48 and n.79.
[2] A complete bibliography of his works, both published and unpublished, appears in Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, (Jerusalem: Hotsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1953), 45-46. Rashash’s comments on Rambam were printed in
Mekorei Rambam, first published in 1870 in Vilna, and while not a true stand-alone work, Rashash’s comments appear
alone, without the Rambam’s text.  See Mekorei ha-Rambam, Harkavy ed., (Jerusalem, Hatsa’at ha-Sefarim ha-Erets-Yisre’elit, 1957, Im ha-Madurah, and p. 59.
[3] For a list of the handful of pages he omitted, see Rafael Katzenellenbogen, Rash”sh le-Shitato, in Mekori Ha-Rambam Le-Rash”sh, ed. Harkavy, (Jerusalem, 1957), 64.
[4] For general biographical details on the Strashun family, see Frida Shor, From “Likute Shoshanim” to “The Paper Brigade” The Story of the Strashun Library in Vilna, (Tel Aviv: Ariel, 2012), 15-28, and the sources cited therein.  See also Shua Engelman, “Rabbi Samuel Strashun and his Haggahot on the Babylonian Talmud,” (PhD dissertation, Bar-Ilan University, 2009; Hebrew); regarding Samuel’s Talmudic annotations as compared to others, see Yaakov Shmuel Spiegel, Chapters in the History of the Jewish Book, Scholars & their Annotations (Ramat-Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2005), 421-22. Cf. Mordechai Zalkin, “Samuel and Mattiyahu Strashun: Between Tradition and Innovation,” in Mattiyahu Strashun, 1817-1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector, (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), 6-7.
[5] Moshe Shimon Anktokolski, Evel Kaved, infra n.12, 23.
[6] Mordechai Zalkin, “Samuel and Mattityahu Strashun: Between Tradition and Innovation,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), 1-27. Samuel has made a very small number of comments that can be read to be consistent with ideas of the haskalah, but these do not approach Matisyahu’s active involvement with the movement, including his very public support of the movement.  Additionally, it is unclear if Samuel’s comments are simply limited to their specific context.
Indeed, the examples Zalkin provides regarding Samuel’s alignment with haskalah do not support Zalkin’s thesis. Id. at 25
n.10. First, Zalkin, cites Strashun’s comment in Gitten 6b, that “we find many amora’im who did not know how to read scripture” as proof of his “unorthodox” views.  But we find a similar statement from the medieval period.  See Tosefot, Bava Batra, 113a.  Zalkin’s second citation is to Rashas’s comments, Rosh ha-Shana 26a, “certain things that were uttered in a particular time and particular place are inserted by editors of the Talmud in their appropriate location in the text.” This misrepresents the Rashash.  Rashash is attempting to answer how the Talmudic sage, Levi, was unaware of an explicit verse as the TB in RH 26a implies.  Rashash explains that although there is no explicit mention of the time or place that this story occurred, Rashash posits that the story in Rosh Hashana occurred at the same time as another story with Levi, Yevamot 105a, where he had a moment of senility.
Rashash is not offering his opinion regarding the redaction of the Talmud, instead he is merely dating the story in Rosh ha-Shana. Finally, it is unclear the relevance of Zalkin’s third example, “you will find many contradictions between different locations is (sic) Rashi’s text.” Locating and alleging contradictions in Rashi is hardly remarkable.
[7] Zalkin, id., at 15.
[8] Shalom Pludermacher, Zikaron le-Hakham: Zeh Sefer Tolodot ha-Rav ha-Go’an, he-Hakham ha-Kollel Rabbi Matitayahu
Strashun Z’L
, in Mattiyahu Strashun, Matat-Ya, Haghot, Hidushim ve-He’arot Me’irot ‘al Midrash Raba Pri Eito Shel Matityahu Strahsun, (Vilna: The Widow and Brothers Romm, 1893), 15.
[9] A partial bibliography of Strashun’s articles appears in his Sefer Matat Yah (Vilna, 1893), 41-74 (Hebrew), available online here.  Reading, and certainly actively participating with, haskalah related newspapers was considered inconsistent with Ultra-Orthodox values and was grounds for expulsion from Volozhin Yeshiva. Shaul Stampfer, The Lithuanian Yeshiva, Revised & Expanded Edition,  (Jerusalem: The Zalman Shazar Center for Jewish History, 2005), 176.
[10] Aviva Astrinsky, “A Brief History of the Strashun Library,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), i.
[11] Duberosh ben Aleksander Torsh, Me’arat ha-Makhpelah, shnei Hepadim . . ., (Warsaw, 1887), 50.
[12] Moshe Shimon Antokolski, Evel Kaved, (Vilna: be-Defus Avhram Tzvi Katzenellenbogen, 1886), 8; Tzvi Harkavy, Le-Heker Misphahot, supra n.1, 47.  During his lifetime he also donated to public institutions, among them, the yeshivot of Mir and Volozhin.  Id. at 24.
[13] Moshe Shimon Antokolski, Evel Kaved, supra n.12, 11.
[14] Mordechai Zalkin, supra n.6, 17-8.
[15] Hagit Cohen, At the Bookseller’s Shop, The Jewish Book Trade in Eastern Europe at the End of the Nineteenth Century,
(Jerusalem: The Hebrew University Magnes Press, 2006), 48-52.
[16] Shalom Pludermacher, Zikaron le-Hakham, 1893), 17. His meetings are reflected in Strashun’s ownership of their works.
See Likutei Shoshaim, nos. 386,1024,1178, 2522, 3352, 3650, 3781, 4377, 5399, 5592. Regarding other well-known Hebrew book collectors and their collections, see Alexander Marx, “Some Jewish Book Collectors,” in his Studies in Jewish History & Booklore, (New York, 1941), 198-237; Cecil Roth, “Famous Jewish Book Collections & Collectors,” in Essays in Jewish Booklore, (New York: Ktav Publishing House, 1971)330-35.
[17] “A Collection of Letter from Jewish Scholars to ShZH”H,” in Yad ve-Shem, reprinted in Yeshurun.
[18] David Oppenheimer’s library was the first library that was posthumously sold intact – to the Bodleian Library.  See
Alexander Marx, “Some Notes on the History of David Oppenheimer’s Library,” Revue des Études Juives 82 [=Israel Lévi
Festschrift] (1926): 451-460; Charles Duschinsky, “Rabbi David Oppenheimer: Glimpses of His Life and Activity, Derived from His Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library,” Jewish Quarterly Review 20:3 (January 1930): 217-247; Alexander Marx, “The History of David Oppenheimer’s Library,” in Studies in Jewish History and Booklore (New York: Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1944), 238-255; and more recently in Joshua Teplitsky, “Between Court Jew and Jewish Court: David Oppenheim, The Prague Rabbinate, and Eighteenth-Century Jewish Political Culture (PhD dissertation, New York University, 2012); and Abraham Schischa, “Rabbinic Writings from the Collection of Rabbi David Oppenheim,” Yeshurun 31 (2014): 781-794 (Hebrew).
For other significant personal Hebrew libraries and their purchasing history, see Binyamin Richler, Hebrew Manuscripts: A
Treasured Legacy
(Clevland/Jerusalem: Ofeq Institute, 1990) 66-67.
[19] For earlier examples of private libraries see Nehemya Allony, The Jewish Library in the Middle Ages, Book Lists from the Cairo Genizah (Jerusalem:  Ben-Zvi Institute, 2006); S.D. Goitein, A Mediterranean Society (Berkley: University of California Press, 1967), vol. II, 206, 248; vol. V 3-4, 425.
[20] It is unclear whether Strashun meant this literally because while the 19th century witnessed the modern period of the public library, there were not any public libraries in Eastern Europe during Strashun’s lifetime.
[21] Shor, supra n. 4, at 26.
[22] Sefer Matat Yah, supra n. 9, at 35, listing Strashun’s bequests.
[23] Moshe Shimon Anktokolski, Evel Kaved, supra n.12, 17.
[24] Among those who had access during this time was Ya’akov Wallensky.  During this time, Wallensky was writing his supplement to Piskei Teshuvot on Yoreh De’ahPiskei Teshuvot itself is a collection of obscure and rare works discussing issues
appearing in Yoreh De’ah. Because Wallensky’s materials were even more obscure and rare, the only place he could access these was the Strashun Library. Ya’akov Wallensky, Daltei Teshuva, (Vilna, 1890), Introduction, 5-6, (link).
[25] Shor, supra n. 4, at 29
[26] Cf. Aviva Astrinsky, “A Brief History of the Strashun Library,” in Yermiyahu Aharon Taub, ed., Mattityahu Strashun, 1817–1885: Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector (New York: YIVO Institute, 2001), iii, who provides that his collection was only
comprised of 5,739 items.
[27] Shor, supra n. 4, at 29.  Regarding the conflicting reports of the Library’s locations during this period, see id., n.71.
[28] Shor, supra n.4, 32-3.
[29] While the Library moved to the new building in 1901, and its dedication ceremony occurred on April 14, 1902, it would not be until October 20, 1902, that the Library secured the necessary governmental permits to fully open to the public.  See Shor at 34-35.  The government license is reproduced in Layzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 2, (New York: Laureate Press, 1974),
346.
[30] Frida Shor, supra n.4, 51-65,174-87. See Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” in Zevi Scharfstein, ed., Hebrew Education and Culture in Europe Between the Two World Wars (New York: Ogen Publishing House of Histadrut HaIvrit BeAmerica, 1957), 513 (Hebrew), who discusses the varied subject matter of the Library’s collection.
[31] Id.
[32] According to one account, the Library had over 200 patrons daily, but only 100 seats, forcing people to share chairs and encounter waits of over a half-hour just to enter the Library.  Id. at 513.
[33] Ben Tzion Dinur, “Yerushalim de-Lita,” in Layzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 1 (New York: Laureate Press, 1974), XVI; but see the English translation of Dinur’s article that comingles the two groups and has both the Orthodox and younger generation studying “respona or modern Hebrew novels.”  Id. at XX.  It is unclear what accounts for this discrepancy in translation. Lucy S. Dawidwowicz, From That Place And Time, A Memoir 1938-1947, (New York: Bantam Books, 1991), 119, provides a remarkably similar account to Dinur’s (“On any day you could see, seated at the two long tables in the reading room,
venerable long-bearded men, wearing hats, studying Talmudic texts, elbow to elbow with bareheaded young men and even young women, bare-armed sometimes on warm days, studying their texts. The old men would sometimes mutter and grumble about what the world had come to. The young people would titter.”).
For a breakdown of the Library’s readership by type (i.e. students, academics and public intellectuals, workers, etc.), see Berger, supra n. 28, 514-15.
[34] See Shor, supra n. 4, 174, see also the description of David Wolfson’s Vilna visit, Israel Klausner, “The Zionist Movement in
Lithuania,” in Yahdut Lita (Tel Aviv: Am Hasefer Publishers, 1950), 522 (Hebrew). For a photo of one such visit, see Layzer Ran, Jerusalem of Lithuania, vol. 2 (New York: Laureate Press, 1974), 416.
[35] Shor, supra n. 4, 174-75.
[36] Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” at 519; Shor, MeLekutei, supra n. 4, 169; Khaykl Lunski in Yeshurin’s ‫ווילנע
(New York, 1935 – in Yiddish), p. 286-7
[37] Abraham Joshua Heschel, “Yerushalim de-Lita,” in Ran, Jerusalem, vol. I, XVII; David E. Fishman, The Rise of Modern Yiddish Culture (Pittsburgh, PA, University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005), 143, provides that the holdings of the Strashun Library prior to the Holocaust was comprised of “some forty thousand volumes.”
[38] See Shor, MeLekutei, 38-9; 42 (discussing a 1926 public appeal that the Library undertook where it described its financial condition as “dire and catastrophic”); id. at 43 (“The Strashun Library underwent many difficult financial periods throughout the nineteen years of Polish rule (10/9/1920- 9/19/1939).  But, it continued to major Vilna cultural institution.”).
[39] Shor, MeLekutei, 44-7.
[40] Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna and the Frankfurt Institut zur Erforschung der Judenfrage,” in Lost Libraries, The Destruction of Great Book Collections Since Antiquity, ed. James Raven (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 220-22.
[41] Id. at 223 & 224 discussing other Vilna Libraries that were targeted by the Nazis.  See also Dov Schidorsky, Burning Scrolls and Flying Letters (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2008), 165-201; David E. Fishman, The Rise of Modern Yiddish Culture (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005), 141-44; Frida Shor, supra n.4, 189-200.
[42] Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 224.
[43] Id. at 226.
[44] Berger, “The Strashun Library of Vilna,” at 517.  The books that were not deemed important we pulped or used as heating fuel. Schidorsky, supra 39, 182. The exact date of when the Strashun Library was transferred to Germany is unclear; however, it was some date after April 1943.  See David E. Fishman, supra n.39,173 n.9. Similarly unclear is the exact number of books that were sent to Frankfort.  Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 228.  But, according to Aviva Astrinsky, “almost all of the Strashun books were crated and shipped by rail to Germany.  Aviva Astrinsky, “Mattitayahu (Mathis) Strashun,” supra n.24, i.
[45] See Ran, Jerusalem, vol II, 522, for a photo of post-war building. For a discussion regarding the numbers of books that survived from the Strashun Library, see Frida Shor, supra n.4, 204-05.
[46]  Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 225, listing the countries and libraries who books were deposited at the Offenbach Depot. Sem C. Sutter, “The Lost Libraries of Vilna,” supra n.38, 229-32.
[47] Lisa Moses Leff, The Archive Thief: The Man who Salvaged French Jewish History in the Wake of the Holocaust (United
States:  Oxford University Press, 2015), 121.
[48]  Id. at 124-30, 136-40.
[49]  Id.
[50] Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 233, provides the numbers and location of heirless books returned by the Jewish Culture Reconstruction.  For a listing of U.S. institutions that received heirless cultural property from the Offenbach Depot, see Herman
Dicker, Of Learning and Libraries, The Seminary Library at One Hundred, (New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary, 1988), Appendix B. See also F.J. Hoogewoud, The Nazi Looting of Books and its American ‘Antithesis’. Selected Pictures
from the Offenbach Archival Depot’s Photographic History and Its Supplement,” Studia Rosenthaliana 26:1-2 (1992): 158-192; and F.J. Hoogewoud, “Dutch Jewish Ex Libris found among looted books in the Offenbach Archival Depot (1946),” in Chaya Brasz and Yosef Kaplan, eds., Dutch Jews as Perceived by Themselves and by Others (Leiden: Brill, 2001), 247-261.
[51] Solomon B. Freehof, On the Collecting of Jewish Books, (New York, NY: Society of Jewish Bibliophiles, [196-]), 17; regarding the books that Hebrew University received, and its efforts to locate and claim heirless works throughout Europe through its Otzrot Ha-Goleh committee, see Shlomo Shunami, About Libraries and Librarianship, (Jerusalem: Rubin Mass, 1969), 56-65; Zvi  Baras, A Century of Books, The Jewish National & University Library 1892-1992, (Jerusalem: Jewish National & Univ. Library,1992), nos. 94-101; Dov Schidorsky, supra n.39, 212-91.
[52] Dov Schidorsky, supra n. 39, 250-51.
[53] Id. at 248-50.  According to Scholem, Abraham Ya’ari, Scholem’s partner on behalf of Hebrew University and its Goleh ha-Otzrot program, returned to Israel, in part, because of the difficulty in securing the necessary authorizations to enter Germany.
Id. 248; 351.
[54] Id. at 250-51.
[55] Id. at 251 n.51.
[56] See  Druker, Of Learning and Libraries, 58.  Druker, however, concludes that Tavel’s unilateral decision “resulted in
no real harm.”  One wonders if any surviving heirs who had legal claims to the Manheim collection would reach the same conclusion.
[57] Lucy S. Dawidwowicz, From That Place And Time, A Memoir 1938-1947, (New York: Bantam Books,1991), 314-16.
[58] See David E. Fishman, supra n.39, 143-53 174 n.20, discussing the YIVO Library under the Nazis and its ultimate transfer to YIVO in New York.
[59] Id. at 318.
[60] For more information regarding Weinreich and YIVO, see id. at 126-39.
[61] Id.; for a fuller treatment of this attempt see Shor, From ‘“Likute Shoshanim”, 44.
[62] Aside from Dawidowicz’s telling, according to the documents that discuss YIVO’s efforts to save its library and the Strashun and the Lithuanian government’s response throughout this attempt, the Strashun Library is described as a Vilna community
library and not the property of one institution or another.  See Shor, From “Likutei Shoshanim”, at 44.
[63] Her argument has the perverse effect that the trustees attempt to save the library immediately resulted in completely losing control of the library.
[64] Aviva E. Astrinsky, Mattistyahu Strashun 1817-1885, Scholar, Leader, and Book Collector, YIVO, New York: 2001, ii, iv.  But, Astrinsky also indicates that YIVO recovered “a substantial part of the Strashun Library.”  Id. at i.  According to YIVO’s website, however, YIVO only received part of the Strashun Library and the remainder “were transferred to the library of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem. (link).
Similarly, Berger, “The Strashun Library in Vilna,” p. 517 claims that part of the Strashun Library went to YIVO and the other part to Hebrew University.
Beyond these unsupported statements, there is no evidence that any books from the Strashun Library were sent to the JNUL.  While the JNUL’s post-war efforts at obtaining heirless books are well documented, see supra, there is no mention of the Strashun Library.
Similarly, the JNUL catalog does not list any items whose provenance extends to the Strashun Library. It is possible that YIVO and Berger confused the JNUL with the Jerusalem Central Library discussed below.  Or simply conflated the Strashun Library with the numerous other European libraries that the JNUL successfully rescued.
[65] See, e.g., the YIVO catalog entry for Solomon Adret’s Hidushe Nidah leha-Rashba, Altona, [1737].



“Improved” Making of a Godol

R. Nathan Kamenetsky has republished the first volume of his book, “Making of a Godol.” This new edition is labeled “Improved Edition.” The reasons for the improvements are well-known. The original edition was placed under a ban due to perceived slights in the honor of certain Gedolim.

In this new edition, there is a helpful index which shows what exactly has been improved upon. According to the index only one story has been removed in it’s entirety. That story, in which R. A. Kotler responded to an interruption during his shiur from a “red-bearded scholar.” R. Kotler responded by saying “Red Heifer, be still!” This was removed due to the source of the story. Apparently, the source for this particular story did not support R. Kamenetsky when R. Kamenetsky questioned the validity of the ban, and thus R. Kamenetsky did not want to include this persons comments.

According to the index there are no more omissions in this new edition. Instead, there are numerous elaborations, corrections, and a significant amount of new information. R. Kamenetsky states in one of the first “elaborations” that “the unexpected ban issued on the original, unimproved, version” helped the current edition be of value for all time.

unfortunately, this improved edition still suffers from a serious lack of editorial oversight. Although, the book has been altered to conform and appease those that issued a ban, it was not altered to make it more reader friendly. The improved edition still utilizes the same format of text followed by excursuses with numerous footnotes and tangents. It still requires, as R. Kamenetsky points out, a pencil and paper to be able to be able to flip back and forth through the book and keep track of what page one is on.

There is one important addition to the book, while not solving all the difficulties, at least alleviates some of them. R. Kamenetsky included a timeline line which tracks both significant events in world history with a parallel timeline that tracks significant Jewish events. When the Jewish events appear in the book, R. Kamenetsky included a footnote to alert the reader which page they can be found on. This allows, if one so desires, to read the book in a chronological order.

Although, the original book was only $40 (when it was published, subsequent to the ban the book was selling and continues to sell for outrageous prices) this improved version is $125. I assume that the steep raise in price was to allow for R. Kamenetsky to recoup some of his losses he suffered from the first edition. There were only 1,000 copies of the first edition published, however, R. Kamenetsky stopped selling and ordered his distributor to stop distributing them once the ban was pronounced. While it is impossible to know with certainty, this probably left him with numerous unsold copies thus causing significant loss. R. Kamenetsky implemented this policy even though he stood to profit immensely from the ban, he has said he felt bound by the ban even if he felt it was unjust.




Rambam’s Response to the Inclusion of Chicken, Duck and Quail in Qaraite Cuisine

Rambam’s Response to the Inclusion
of Chicken, Duck and Quail in Qaraite Cuisine
By Tzvi H. Adams

In “Waiting
Six Hours for Dairy- A Rabbanite Response to Qaraism” (here)
I posited that Rabbeinu Chananel initiated the practice of waiting six hours
between meat and dairy in order to protect Rabbanite values. This association
was inspired by Dr. Bernard Revel’s studies of 
Rabbanite leaders’ efforts to counter sectarian influences during the
early Middle Ages[1], as well as a shiur by
Rabbi David Bar-Hayim. I then
suggested that Rambam furthered this anti-Qaraite motion by including poultry
into the required six hour waiting category. Rambam’s poultry innovation was intended
to protect Rabbanites from influence of their Qaraite neighbors who cooked meat
and poultry with dairy. Briefly, this latter suggestion was based upon two observations:

a) The simple reading of the Talmud Chullin
104b -עוף וגבינה נאכלין באפיקורן – בלא נטילת ידים ובלא קינוח הפה- as interpreted
by the Gaonim and rishonim for five centuries until Rambam, allowed poultry and
dairy to be consumed consecutively without even kinuach ve’hadacha in
between. Unless we imagine that Rambam possessed a secret hitherto unheard-of
tradition which understood the Talmud’s words in some other fashion, we can
assume that Rambam actually changed the Talmudic halacha in his Yad. Being
the strong proponent of Rabbanite halacha and tradition that he was, Rambam
surely had a compelling reason to make this drastic alteration.

b) There are many instances of
anti-Qaraite creativity in Rambam’s writings and rulings. Examples include:

§ 
Rambam was the first rishon to
disqualify a get (divorce document) written in a Qaraite court by a
Qaraite scribe[2].
§ 
Though the Gaonim and R. Chananel
explicitly say that not eating on the three minor fast days is the individual’s
choice (as per the Talmud’s ruling RH 18b- אין שמד ואין
שלום – רצו – מתענין, רצו – אין מתענין), Rambam chose to
overlook this detail about fast days in his halachic writings. The purpose of
this intentional omission was almost certainly to separate Rabbanites from the
Qaraite community who did not observe the Rabbanite fasting calendar[3].
§ 
Most rishonim recognized the
rabbinic origins of the Yom Kippur afflictions other than not eating or
drinking. Rambam, however, led readers to believe that all five afflictions are
biblically proscribed. It seems that Rambam presented the Yom Kippur restrictions
in this way only to protect the halacha from the Qaraite perspective[4]. 

Other examples were cited in my previous article. It is therefore reasonable to
say that the required waiting period between poultry and dairy, found first in Yad
HaChazaka
, is one more instance of Rambam’s anti-Qaraitic halachic
reformation.

An
analysis of the historical development of Qaraite rules of kosher birds strongly
supports my suggestion[5].
Qaraite halacha did not rely on the Rabbanite Oral Law. Therefore, the kosher
signs of the Mishna Hullin 59a –
 וסימני העוף לא נאמרו אבל אמרו
חכמים כל עוף הדורס טמא כל שיש לו אצבע יתירה וזפק וקורקבנו נקלף טהור ר’ אלעזר
בר’ צדוק אומר כל עוף החולק את רגליו טמא
and the statement of the Talmud Hullin
63b, עוף
טהור נאכל במסורת, were of little
significance to Qaraites. That chicken, duck, quail and other fowl were eaten in
Rabbanite tradition[vi] was
unreliable evidence for these strict Scriptualists. Because the identity of most birds mentioned in the Torah
was ambiguous, Qaraites had no reliable means of recognizing birds as kosher other
than the pigeon and turtledove; they were confident that the correct
translation of תור and יונה had been preserved. The devout Qaraite, therefore, could not
partake of chicken, quail, or duck. Over time, some Qaraites communities became
lenient and found legal rationale to permit these commonly eaten birds. Slowly
over the 12th Description: https://ssl.gstatic.com/ui/v1/icons/mail/images/cleardot.gifand 13th
centuries a lenient policy was adopted by the broad Qaraite community. Because
from the inception of Qaraism its scholars read the passuk, “לא
תבשל גדי בחלב אמו” literally[7],
they had no hesitations against eating and cooking the newly accepted fowl and
dairy together. 

            The
Rabbanite and Qaraite communities were very much interconnected politically and
socially[8];
the divide between the parties was often blurred[9].
Rabbanite leaders sought to protect the integrity of their tradition from sectarian
influence. I demonstrated previously how R. Chananel (990 -1053) and his
disciple, R. Yitchak Al-fasi[10]
(1013
– 1103), created a six hour waiting requirement
between meat and dairy in the early eleventh century – thereby limiting the
social participation of Rabbanites with Qaraites. During the years of the legislating
activity of these sages it was not common practice amongst Qaraites to eat
chicken, duck, and quail, birds on the daily North African Rabbanite menu[11]. R.
Chananel and R. Al-fasi, therefore, did not see a need for demanding a wait
after poultry as there was little concern that Rabbanites and Qaraites would be
dining together over such fowl. Furthermore, it was difficult to reread the
obvious permitting statement of the Talmud, עוף וגבינה
נאכלין באפיקורן. During the century between these sages
and the rise of Rambam (1135-1204) to prominence, Qaraites widely allowed
themselves to eat the same fowl consumed by the Rabbanite community. Now a
Qaraite-Rabbanite poultry dinner was possible and influence from the cooking
practices of “the eaters of milk with meat” (the nickname for Qaraites) was
real. Rambam, seeking to protect Rabbanite tradition from Qaraite values by
building social barriers, creatively placed fowl alongside meat in the
requirement to wait six hours before dairy:
מִי
שֶׁאָכַל בָּשָׂר בַּתְּחִלָּה, בֵּין בְּשַׂר בְּהֵמָה בֵּין בְּשַׂר עוֹף–לֹא
יֹאכַל אַחֲרָיו חָלָב עַד שֶׁיִּשְׁהֶה בֵּינֵיהֶן כְּדֵי שֵׁעוּר סְעוֹדָה
אַחֶרֶת, וְהוּא כְּמוֹ שֵׁשׁ שָׁעוֹת:  מִפְּנֵי
הַבָּשָׂר שֶׁלְּבֵין הַשִּׁנַּיִם, שְׁאֵינוּ סָר בְּקִנּוּחַ
(רמב”ם משנה תורה מאכלות אסורות פרק ט’
הלכה כז)
This addition did not
go unnoticed. In the two generations following Rambam, the greatest rishonim
criticized the Rambam’s reform as it reversed the ruling of the Bavli. Ramban
(1194-1270) was the first to challenge Rambam’s alteration:


אבל הרמב”ן ז”ל כתב דאגרא אפילו עוף ואחר כך גבינה שרא דלישנא הכי משמע
דקאמר עוף וגבינה…(ר”ן על הרי”ף חולין דף לז’)
R. Aaron Halevi
(1230-1300) also challenged Rambam’s ruling:
…ואפילו
הכי שרינן בעוף בלא נטילת ידים משום דקיל דלא מיתסר אלא מדרבנן, ודאי לא שני לן
בין עוף ואחר כך גבינה בין גבינה ואחר כך עוף… הוא הדין לקנוח הפה דלא בעינן
אפי’ בין עוף לגבינה…. ולהוציא קצת מדברי רבי’ ז”ל (=הרמב”ם) שפרשו
דההיא דאגרא דאמר עוף וגבנה נאכלין באפיקורן דוקא גבינה תחילה ואחר כך עוף…
(חידושי רא”ה לחולין דף קד’)
However, within a
century of the publication of Mishna Torah, creative ways of
reinterpreting the words of אגרא were created to fit
this new reform into the Talmud[12].
Tur (1275-1340) YD 89 cites Rambam’s ruling on poultry as if none other exists.
Professor Daniel Frank has thoroughly examined the historical
development of the laws of kosher birds in Qaraite halacha in his monograph,
“May Karaites Eat Chicken? Indeterminacy in Sectarian Halakhic Exegesis”[13].
My chiddush is that the inclusion of chicken, duck, and quail in Qaraite
cuisine in the 12th century provoked Rambam’s tightening of the
poultry and dairy separation laws. Unless noted otherwise, the following
sources and translations are summarized from Frank’s article:

Views of Early Qaraite Scholars
Anan ben David
In his Book of Commandments[14], the early learned schismatic, Anan
ben David (c. 715 – c. 795) writes the following:
Now we do not find any birds were
used for burnt offerings save turtledoves and pigeons, as it is written… (in
lev. 1:14). The juxtaposition of the words ‘of every clean bird’ and ‘he
offered burnt offerings’ thus proves that the only clean birds are turtledoves
and pigeons.
Benjamin Nahawandi
One
of the greatest of the Qaraite scholars of the early ninth century, Benjamin Nahawandi, states:
The only clean birds that can be
eaten are the pigeon and its kind. There are many clean and unclean varieties…
but they cannot be identified by means of physical criteria, since Scripture
does not make these explicit. … The pigeon is (the bird) that makes the cooing
noise in is throat, as it is stated: We coo like doves (Is. 59:11)….
Therefore the only clean bird that is mentioned is the pigeon and its kind[15].
The identification of other clean birds remains uncertain
because the Torah provides no physical description of the birds. Pigeons (and
their turtledove subspecies) are an exception because the Scriptural verse, We
coo like doves
(Is. 59:11), gives a physical sign to identify the
bird.  
Daniel al-Qumisi
Daniel al-Qumisi (d. in Jerusalem 946), founder of the Qaraite
“Mourners of Zion” movement, likewise insisted that because Biblical Hebrew is no longer
the vernacular, the meaning of most of the birds of the Torah has been
forgotten; “for God-fearing people, the only permitted birds are turtledoves,
pigeons and wild pigeons- at least until the coming of the Righteousness”[16].
He attacks the Rabbanites for having invented physical criteria for identifying
kosher birds- as Scripture does not supply these.
Jacob Al-Qirqisani
The
early tenth century Qaraite dogmatist and exegete, Jacob Al-Qirqisani writes similarly
in his Kitabal-Anwar (written in 937):
Should someone say, “The people
already knew these signs via oral tradition from the prophet…” He may be
answered: “As for your statement that the people used to know these signs via
oral tradition from the prophet- this is (but) a claim. You have no proof of
this….”[17]
Japeth ben Ali
The maskil
ha-Golah
and
foremost Qariate Bible commentator, Japeth ben Ali (10th century, born in Iraq
and died in Jerusalem), emphasized that pigeons and turtledoves are the only
unquestionably permitted birds; all other species should be avoided.
Of all the birds, those which are
demonstrably permitted are turtledove and pigeon…. As for chicken, mountain
quail, partridge, duck, goose, crane, sparrow, and others- we must suspend
judgement concerning them all- “until he comes and teaches righteousness”
(Hos.10:12)[18]
Rabbanite Rishonim


The rishonim were very familiar with Qaraite claims.

R. Saadya Gaon
In response to Qaraite scholars, R. Saadya Gaon (882-942) addresses the topic
of the identification of the birds of the Torah in his writings[19],
delivering anti-sectarian polemics.

Targum Psuedo-Yonathan[20]

Dr. Bernard Revel proved in his “תרגום יונתן על
התורה” (here) that the Targum Yonathan (ben
Uziel) was really an early ninth century targum commissioned by the Torah sages
of Eretz Yisroel. He demonstrated that this targum is filled with views of the
Talmud Yerushalmi as well as interpretations aimed at countering sectarian
movements. (here)

וית אלין מינייא תשקצון מן עופא דלית
להון ציבעא יתירא ודלית ליה זפקתא ודקורקבניה ליתוהי מקליף לא יתאכלון (תרגום
יונתן ויקרא יא:יג)
The Targum’s author included the physical criteria for
kosher birds to imply that these signs are contained within the Torah itself
and valid- unlike the views of early Qaraites who disregarded these signs only
known by rabbinic tradition.
Mah-Yedidut [21]

The popular Friday night zemer, Mah-Yedidut, by Menachem (possibly ben
Saruq[22],
920-980 Spain), highlights the differences between the Rabbanite and Qaraite
Sabbath. Menachem emphasizes the obligations of kavod  ve’oneg Shabbos (לְבוּשׁ
בִּגְדֵי חֲמוּדוֹת
and עֹֽנֶג קְרָא לַשַּׁבָּת[23],
וְהַשֵּׁנָה מְשֻׁבַּֽחַת)
and kindling Sabbath lights ([24]לְהַדְלִיק
נֵר בִּבְרָכָה),
the permissibility of thinking of post-Sabbath work ([25]הִרְהוּרִים
מֻתָּרִים)
and gives an allusion to marital relations        (כַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּים
סוּגָה[26],
בּוֹ יָנֽוּחוּ בֵּן וּבַת וְלָנֽוּחַ בְּחִבַּת) – all points of contention between
Qaraites and Rabbanites.
מַה
יְּדִידוּת מְנוּחָתֵךְ, אַתְּ שַׁבָּת הַמַּלְכָּה, 
בְּכֵן נָרוּץ לִקְרָאתֵךְ, בּֽוֹאִי כַלָּה נְסוּכָה, 
לְבוּשׁ בִּגְדֵי חֲמוּדוֹת, לְהַדְלִיק נֵר בִּבְרָכָה, 
וַתֵּֽכֶל כָּל הָעֲבוֹדוֹת, לֹא תַעֲשׂוּ מְלָאכָה. 
לְהִתְעַנֵּג בְּתַעֲנוּגִים בַּרְבּוּרִים וּשְׂלָו
וְדָגִים. 
מֵעֶֽרֶב מַזְמִינִים, כָּל מִינֵי מַטְעַמִּים, 
מִבְּעוֹד יוֹם מוּכָנִים, תַּרְנְגוֹלִים מְפֻטָּמִים
וְלַעֲרֹךְ כַּמָּה מִינִים, שְׁתוֹת יֵינוֹת מְבֻשָּׂמִים, 
וְתַפְנוּקֵי מַעֲדַנִּים, בְּכָל שָׁלֹשׁ פְּעָמִים. 
לְהִתְעַנֵּג בְּתַעֲנוּגִים בַּרְבּוּרִים וּשְׂלָו
וְדָגִים.  

חֲפָצֶֽיךָ
בּוֹ אֲסוּרִים, וְגַם לַחֲשֹׁב חֶשְׁבּוֹנוֹת, 
הִרְהוּרִים מֻתָּרִים, וּלְשַׁדֵּךְ הַבָּנוֹת, 
וְתִינוֹק לְלַמְּדוֹ סֵֽפֶר, לַמְנַצֵּֽחַ בִּנְגִינוֹת, 
וְלַהֲגוֹת בְּאִמְרֵי שֶֽׁפֶר, בְּכָל פִּנּוֹת וּמַחֲנוֹת. 
לְהִתְעַנֵּג בְּתַעֲנוּגִים בַּרְבּוּרִים וּשְׂלָו וְדָגִים. 
הִלּוּכָךְ תְּהֵא בְנַֽחַת, עֹֽנֶג קְרָא לַשַּׁבָּת, 
וְהַשֵּׁנָה מְשֻׁבַּֽחַת, כְּדָת נֶֽפֶשׁ מְשִׁיבַת, 
בְּכֵן נַפְשִׁי לְךָ עָרְגָה, וְלָנֽוּחַ בְּחִבַּת, 
כַּשּׁוֹשַׁנִּים סוּגָה, בּוֹ יָנֽוּחוּ בֵּן וּבַת. 
לְהִתְעַנֵּג בְּתַעֲנוּגִים בַּרְבּוּרִים וּשְׂלָו
וְדָגִים.

The poet sings of Rabbanite dishes: stuffed chicken (תַּרְנְגוֹלִים
מְפֻטָּמִים),
duck or goose (בַּרְבּוּרִים),
and quail (שְׂלָו)[27]
– poultry one would not find at Qaraite meals. By mentioning these items
Rabbanite tradition is strengthened and cherished.

Byzantium 


Constantinople was a thriving
center of Qaraism during much of the Middle Ages. The Byzantine Rabbanite, Tobiah ben Eliezer (late 11th – early 12th
centuries), often attacks Qaraite ideas[28]
in his Medrash Lekach Tov (written in 1097 and revised it in 1107 or
1108). In Vayikra[29],
Tobiah emphasizes that “generation after generation” birds eaten by the
Byzantine Rabbanites have been permitted: ועוף טהור נאכל
במסורת דור אחר דור כגון האווז ואווז בר ותרנגולת. This indicates that in
his lifetime Byzantine Qaraites refrained from eating the chicken, goose, and
duck.

However, only half a century later, the Byzantine Qaraite scholar, Judah Hadassi, tells that many of
his landsmen allowed themselves to partake of these fowl. In his Eshkol
ha-Kofer
(1148), Hadassi notes this transition in Qaraite law with
disapproval:
Now some of the (Karaite) teachers
approved those domestic fowl, which are customarily raised in their home. (They
did so) because this was the choice of the entire nation, not because there are
any scriptural allusions that justify or confirm (this practice). Happy is he
who guards himself wholeheartedly against uncertainties so that he is stringent
in all (matters pertaining) to ritual slaughter! For knowledge of the Holy
Tongue has disappeared from our midst, and we no longer know the names of (the
birds) so as to recognize which is permitted and which is forbidden to us.
Therefore we will remain silent until (Elijah) comes and teaches us
righteousness. But if we rely upon custom (minhag) and tradition, does
this tradition not take away from and add to our Torah, even contradicting it
in part?
Eventually, the lenient approach to the kosher status of
chicken and duck became the norm and the Qaraite Nicomedian theologian, Aaron ben Elijah
(1328-1369), states definitely in his Gan
Eden
(1354):
Since knowledge of our language has
now become deficient during our exile, we do not know the clean species. All
that remains in fact, is knowledge of several of the names (mentioned) in
Scripture and those known via the tradition (sevel ha-yerushah[30]),
such as pigeon, turtledove, quail, partridge, swan, chicken, and goose. For it
has been transmitted, one person from the next, that these are raised
domestically and that they are permitted…[31]
Spain


These transformations in Qaraite halacha were taking place in the Byzantine
Empire during Rambam’s lifetime though geographically removed from him. The
Rambam did correspond with students and scholars from France to Syria and even
had knowledge of a Jewish community in India. We also see in Rambam much
anti-Qaraite activity. It can be assumed that Rambam had his finger on the
pulse of nuances in Qaraites halachic and cultural development. However, Rambam
may have had an even more intimate knowledge of these developments. There is
evidence that the Qaraite fowl ‘kosherification’ process was taking place in
Rambam’s very own mother country, Spain, while Rambam was yet a young man:
R. Yehuda Halevi (1075 – 1141) writes
in his Kuzari (completed
around 1140):
והייתי
רוצה כי ישיבו לי הקראים תשובה מספקת על זה… ועוד רוצה הייתי כי יבארו לי מה בין
העוף המותר לבין העוף האסור (זולת העופות המפרסמים כיונה ותור) ומנין להם כי
התרנגלת והאוז והברוז והתכי אינם מן העופות הטמאים (כוזרי ג:לה)
 I wish the Qaraites would give me a
satisfactory answer to questions of this kind… I desire an explanation of the
lawful and unlawful birds, excepting the common ones, such as the pigeon and
turtledove. How do they know that the hen, goose, duck, and partridge are not
unclean birds?” (Kuzari 3:35)
This passage indicates that by the 1130s, (note- Rambam was
born in 1135), Qaraites in Spain permitted the consumption of the same fowl
eaten by the Rabbanites[32].

Rambam lived at the end of the Qaraite Golden Age. He observed many Rabbanites
leave the fold for Qaraism and a weakened respect for the Oral Torah in the
Rabbanite community[33].
Witnessing Qaraites begin to consume many birds eaten by the Rabbanite
community, Rambam feared that his followers would be influenced by Qaraite
meat/poultry and milk cooking practices. He tightened baasar be’cholov
laws – a process begun a century earlier by R. Chananel – by requiring a six
hour wait for poultry as well.

Many people ask, “If the political anti-Qaraite origins of
the six hour wait are correct, why was this fact not expressed by rishonim and
medieval writers?” In “Waiting Six Hours for Dairy- A Rabbanite
Response to Qaraism”, I cited the opinion of R. Tam and others that R.
Chananel’s six hour ruling was instituted merely because בקעא
מצאו
וגדרו
בה
גדר. There was indeed some awareness of
social-political causation. However, the anti-Qaraite purpose of Rambam’s
poultry-wait innovation went unnoted. Rambam had discreetly inserted fowl
alongside genuine meat in his Mishna Torah. Many later authorities may
have assumed that Rambam, the scion of an illustrious rabbinical family,
possessed an alternative method of interpreting the Talmud. The reason why R.
Chananel, R. Al-fasi, and Rambam did not disclose the reasons for their
halachic reforms is readily understood in light of the following passage:
…דאמר
עולא כי גזרי גזירתא במערבא לא מגלו טעמא עד תריסר ירחי שתא דלמא איכא איניש דלא
ס”ל ואתי לזלזולי בה (ע”ז לה ע”א)
In
Eretz Yisroel when a decree was issued its purpose was not revealed for twelve
months. This is because many people would not accept the meaning, and
consequently would show a negative attitude toward the decree.  (Avodah Zara 35a)
The general Rabbanite
populace may not have adhered to the new strict laws if they realized they were
merely enacted for social-political reasons.  
HaRav David Bar-Hayim of Machon Shilo has already noted in
his “Meat and Milk” series (here) that Rambam was the first to
require any waiting between poultry and dairy. He therefore opines that one may
eat poultry and then dairy without even kinuach ve’hadacha as clear from
the Talmud, Gaonim, and early Baalei Tosfos[34]. 
For more interesting articles visit www.UncensoredJudaism.com

I
would like to thank Pe’er Barzilai for reading and commenting on this essay. His insights
greatly improved its quality.


[1] A Torah luminary of the last century, Dr. Bernard Revel,
devoted many studies to the relationship between rabbinic authorities and
Qaraism. In his”פרקים
בחילופי המנהגים”  (here)
and
“תרגום
יונתן על התורה” (here), Dr. Revel revealed how much of the rabbinic
writings of the early Middle Ages
were aimed at separating the Rabbanite community from sectarian influence.
Dr.
Revel wrote his 1911 doctoral dissertation
on the origins of Qaraite halacha- “The Karaite Halakhah and Its
Relation to Sadducean, Samaritan, and Philonian Halakhah” (here). Here is a sample from Dr. Revel’s article: The Gaonim (see Beit
Yosef
O.C. 24) opposed holding and gazing at the tzitit during the
recital of the Shema only because this was Qaraite practice in accordance with
the literal understanding of וראיתם אותו. (here)
[2] Responsa 2:628-29 http://hebrewbooks.org/pdfpager.aspx?req=1731&st=&pgnum=351
See Rustow, Heresy and the Politics of Community: the Jews of the Fatimid
Caliphate
(2008), pg. 345.
[3] This topic deserves a comprehensive
discussion. For a preview see “R. Yitchak Al-fasi’s Anti-Qaraite
Legislative Activity” here Case #3.
[4] Rambam writes:
 וכן למדו מפי השמועה, שאסור לרחוץ בו או לסוך או לנעול את הסנדל
או לבעול.  ומצוה לשבות מכל אלו, כדרך ששובת מאכילה ושתייה:  שנאמר
“שבת שבתון”
שבת לעניין מלאכה, ושבתון לעניינים
אלו.  ואין חייבין כרת או קרבן, אלא על אכילה ושתייה בלבד; אבל אם רחץ או סך
או נעל או בעל, מכין אותו מכת מרדות.
Later authorities were perplexed by
Rambam’s view and much ink was spilled trying to resolve it. See Beit
Yosef
O.C. 611 and acharonim there.

Often
Rambam precedes modern academic research by eight and a half centuries. It is
unlikely that he was unaware of the late origins of the Yom Kippur laws. See
Dr. Israel Drazin’s article “Yom Kippur is Not a Biblical Holiday
(here).
Rambam may have lead readers to
believe all five afflictions were biblical only to counter Qaraite views. 

A century ago, Bernard Revel made an identical argument about Targum Pseudo-Yonathan (here). The early ninth century Targum on Lev. 15:29 mentions all
five afflictions as being implicit from the Torah itself. Revel concluded that
the Targum had but one purpose – to oppose the Qaraites and strengthen belief
in the Oral Torah. 

For a thorough analysis of what Rambam meant when he wrote למדו
מפי השמועה, see Albert D. Friedberg’s “An
Evaluation of Maimonides’ Enumeration of the 613 Commandments, With Special
Emphasis on the Positive Commandments” pgs. 275- 281 here (-also in his
recent 2014 Crafting the
Commandments
). 

Another
anti-Qaraism in Mishna Torah may be in Hilchot Chamets u-Matzah where
Rambam describes how chametz is forbidden from midday of the fourteenth
of Nisan:
מצות עשה מן התורה להשבית החמץ קודם זמן
איסור אכילתו
שנאמר “ביום הראשון, תשביתו שאור מבתיכם” (שמות יב,טו)
מפי השמועה למדו שראשון זה, הוא יום ארבעה עשר.  וראיה
לדבר זה
מה שכתוב בתורה “לא תשחט על חמץ, דם זבחי” (שמות לד,כה)
כלומר לא תשחוט הפסח והחמץ קיים; ושחיטת הפסח, הוא יום
ארבעה עשר אחר חצות

(הלכות חמץ ומצה פרק ב:א)

Friedberg
(pg. 282, note 53) suggests that
Rambam adds the emphasis of “from Scripture” – “מן התורה” – only to polemicize with his Qaraite
adversaries who held that chametz could be kept until the beginning of
the first day of the festival.

Another
interesting point Friedberg makes (pgs. 298-302) is that a very careful reading
of Maimonides shows that he regarded tefillin and mezuza as
practices which began with the lay population and were later sanctioned by the
rabbis, or possibly originated by the rabbis, but were certainly not biblical.
In the his conclusion to Crafting
the Commandments
, Friedberg explains why Rambam was
so careful to conceal his view:      
            I conjectured further that Maimonides deliberately withheld the
scriptural designation from certain commandments that had been labeled as
scriptural in the ShM (=Sefer HaMitzvoth) when the plain reading of the
scriptural text did not appear to provide sufficient evidence for them, even
when rabbinic interpretation suggested otherwise. To this end, he chose an
artful but somewhat concealed literary device to designate them as such, the
participle of correct practice. This is the case with such prominent practices
as the recitation of the Shema, the binding of the tefillin, the writing and placing
of the mezuzah and the study of Torah.
In the heavily politicized atmosphere of Cairo,
where Rabbanites were both assiduously courted and continuously attacked by
sectarian groups (largely Karaites) over the role of the oral law in
interpreting Scripture, Maimonides chose to keep his radical opinions hidden
yet recoverable. When applied to the legal sections of the Torah, Maimonides’
peshateh di-qera hermeneutics would likely raise hackles among his own
co-religionists and, worse yet, give comfort to the deniers of the oral law.
His carefully planted literary cues could lead the reader who is familiar with
rabbinic terminology and unburdened by popular and superficial conclusions to
discover the Master’s true opinion or at the very least sense his ambivalence.

[5] I
thank Sam Kahan. His comments on my previous “Waiting Six Hours for Dairy”
article prompted me towards further investigation and discoveries and the
writing of this article.

[6] These birds were eaten by
Jews around the Mediterranean for centuries. See Zohar Amar’s מסורת
העוף 
Tel Aviv (2004).

[7] Al-Qirqisani,
Kitab al-AnWar, XII, 25:4 “‘in its mother’s milk’ refers only to the
milk of its mother”.
[8] I wrote more on this here.
[9] Marina Rustow argues in Heresy and the Politics of
Community
that there was more tolerance of Qaraism in
Rabbanite communities outside Spain. The likelihood of influence was thus also
increased.
[10]
R. Al-fasi may have changed Talmudic halacha in many areas for political
anti-Qaraite reasons. See many examples in “R. Yitchak Al-fasi’s Anti-Qaraite
Legislative Activity” (here).
[11] Correction:

In  “Waiting Six Hours for Dairy- A
Rabbanite Response to Qaraism” I wrote the following:
This Qaraite
breach of the Oral Law earned them the nickname “the eaters of meat with milk”.
This transgression of the Qaraites became symbolic of the entire conflict
between the Rabbanite and Qaraite camps. 
Throughout this period, the two camps were very connected socially,
politically, and economically. There were Rabbanite-Qaraite marriages, joint
business ventures, and joint communities. The lines between the two camps were
not as distinct as we may imagine. At some point in the early eleventh century,
the Rabbanite rishonim devised a way to create greater division and social
split between the two camps. Choosing the very topic which represented the
heart of the schism, they reinterpreted Talmudic passages in a manner which
requires waiting six hours between eating red meat and dairy products, further
separating the Rabbanites from the Qaraites both halachically and socially. However,
Rabbanites and Qaraites could still enjoy a poultry-dairy meal together during
community gatherings or business meetings
. It was more difficult to
redefine an explicit statement in the Talmud allowing poultry and dairy
together without any separation in between (אגרא’s statement). Maimonides was the first to
attempt to further widen the gap by including poultry in the six-hour wait
category. (Italics added for emphasis.)
This is a mistake. Besides for the
occasional pigeon or turtledove, there were no birds which Qaraites could have
eaten with Rabbanites.
[12] See Rashba and Ritva on Hullin 104. They probably
assumed that Rambam had a tradition that this was the way the Talmud is
interpreted.
[13] Daniel Frank,“May Karaites Eat Chicken? Indeterminacy in Sectarian
Halakhic Exegesis”, Jewish Biblical Interpretation and Cultural Exchange
ed. Natalie B. Dohrman and David Stern, (2008) Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press pgs.124-138.
[14] Harkavy, Zikhron la-rishonim 67-68.
[15] Harkavy, Zikhron la-rishonim 179.
[16] See al-Qirqisani, Kitab al-Anwar 1.16 vol I pg
57. Trans. in W. Lockwood,  Ya’qub
al-Qirqisani on Jewish Sects and Christianity
(Frankfurt am Main: Peter
Lang, (1984) 150. Also Karaite Anthology: Excerpts from the Early
Literatur
e  (1980) ed. By Leon Nemoy
pgs 32-34.
[17] Al-Qirqisani, Kitabal-Anwar XII.2.3-6. Qirqisani also mentions that- “One allows chicken,
another forbids it, while yet another asserts that he does not know whether it
is permitted or forbidden.” (Al-Qirqisani, Kitabal-Anwar
I.19.3 vol.1 pg 61). This tells that though the leading Qaraite scholars
forbade most birds, there were existent alternate views and practices amongst
early sectarians. These lenient views did not become the norm until much later.
[18] Yapheth ben Eli, Comment on Dt 14,11-20
[19] See Frank’s
article for relevant citations. An interesting passage in R. Avraham ibn Ezra’s
commentary discusses R. Saadya:
שם האחד. אמר
הגאון (=ר’ סעדיה) כי פישון יאור מצרים… ואין ראיה על פישון שהוא היאור, רק
שתרגם החוילה כפי צרכו, כי אין לו קבלה. וכן עשה במשפחות, ובמדינות ובחיות ובעופות
ובאבנים. אולי בחלום ראם. וכבר טעה במקצתם כאשר אפרש במקומו. א”כ לא נשען על
חלומותיו, אולי עשה כן לכבוד השם, בעבור שתרגם התורה בלשון ישמעאל ובכתיבתם, שלא
יאמרו כי יש בתורה מצות לא ידענום.
(אבן עזרא בראשית
ב:יא)
R. Saadya Gaon may have fabricated
translations for uncertain names of birds in the Torah only to protect
Rabbanites from Qaraite ridicule. By supplying translations, Saadya saw to it
that Rabbanite Torah readers would not easily sympathize with Qaraite scholars
by thinking that, indeed, their Rabbanite tradition knows very little about the
meaning of words in the Torah.
[20] This source I add
to Frank’s list.
[21] This source I
add to Frank’s list.
[22] R. Yaakov Emden
writes in his סידור בית יעקב pg 154
ובראשי הבתים חתום מנחם (אולי הוא בר מכיר). I suggest that Menachem is not Menachem ben Machir of 11th
century Germany, but Menachem ben Saruq (10th century Spain) or
another early Spanish poet. That this piyut, in recent times, is
traditionally sung mainly in Ashkenazi homes does not disprove Sephardic
anti-Qaraite origins.
[23] See Judah
Hadassi’s words- לאכול ולשתות די מחייתו וקיום נפש ולנוח
מעט במשכבך in Haym
Soloveitchik’s  Collected Essays II,
pg 391.
[24] The blessing
said before kindling the Sabbath lights was likely initiated to strengthen this
rabbinic practice in response to the Qaraite custom. See Naftali Vieder,  התגבשות נוסח התפילה במזרח ובמעריב Volume I (1998), pg. 343-346.

[25] See O.C. 306:8.
Judah Hadassi writes in Eshkol HaKofer 145 (here):
המחשבות והדמיונות הלב ומשפטים
ודקדוקים ועסקים שאין מתורת אלהים אסור לחשוב בימי קודש בדעתך

I
thank R. Shimon Szimonowitz for this source and association.

[26] From Shir
HaShirim
7:3. The literal context in Shir HaShirim is erotic and
sensual. Good poetry has multiple layers of meaning.
[27] וְדָגִים is added
merely so the “im” will rhyme with בְּתַעֲנוּגִים.
[28] See here.
[29] Here
(Shemini pg 31). Also see Devarim Re’eh pg 44- here.
[30] Sevel
ha-yerushah
is a Qaraite term for ‘commonly accepted tradition.’
[31]  Gan Eden, “Inyan shehitah,” chapter 2, 82d
[32]
R. Avraham ibn Ezra (1089–1167), Halevi’s contemporary and
landsman, makes an interesting comment:
הדוכיפת. אמרו הצדוקים שהיא התרנגולת,
ואלה טפשי עולם, כי מי הגיד להם. (אבן עזרא ויקרא יא:יט)
These Qaraite Bible interpreters may have intended to
ridicule Rabbanites by arguing that chicken is the non-kosher דוכיפת bird. It is
apparent that these particular Qaraites still refrained from chicken. If so,
the reality reported in Kuzari may not have yet been uniform throughout
Spain. Or perhaps Ibn Ezra was recording Qaraite views he encountered along his
many global travels.
[32] Qaraites and
Rabbanites lived in adjacent quarters in Cairo—Harat al-Yahud and Harat
al-Yahud al-Qarain. (here
)
[34] Rambam in Moreh Nevuchim 3:48 writes:
אבל אסור בשר בחלב הרי עם היותו מזון גס מאוד בלי
ספק, וגורם מילוי רב אין הדבר רחוק לדעתי שיש לעבודה
וממה שמחזק את זה לדעתי, שאסור בשר בחלב הזכירו פעמים
בתחילת הציווי בו כאשר הזכיר מצוות החג, שלוש פעמים בשנה וגו וכאילו יאמר בחגכם
וביאתכם לבית ה’ אלוהיך לא תבשל מה שתבשל שם בצורה פלונית כפי שהיו הם עושים, זהו
המתקבל יותר לדעתי בטעם איסורו, אלא שלא ראיתי את זה כתוב במה שעיינתי מספרי
ה”צאבה.

Ibn
Ezra:
והנה קדמונינו ז”ל החמירו להסיר כל ספק, ואסרו בשר
בחלב, והשם שנתן להם חכמה, הוא יתן משכורתם שלימה. (ר’ אברהם אבן עזרא שמות כג:יט)
Ibn
Ezra’s view is that meat cooked in the milk of an animal other than its mother
was only forbidden by Rabbinic law (unlike what is understood from Talmud
Chullin and Shulchan Aruch Yoreh Deah).
Accordingly,
we see a three stage development of changes in biblical law. 

First, the early rabbis expanded the Torah’s prohibition against the pagan
practice of cooking a kid in its mother’s milk. They said cooking milk in any
meat is forbidden. Some rabbis even forbade fowl cooked with dairy. This view
eventually became the normative halacha. At this early stage kinuach
ve’hadacha
was required between meat and dairy- though, not between poultry
and dairy.
Second,
in the beginning of the eleventh century, the rabbinic meat-milk prohibition
was expanded by Rabbeinu Chananel to require a separation of six hours between
consuming meat and dairy. About this time Qaraites had loosened their mourning
customs and began eating meat; they did not hesitate to cook that meat with dairy.
R. Chananel created this new law to protect and separate rabbinically-oriented
Jews who accepted the concept and binding force of the Oral Torah from
influence of the Qaraites.
Third,
in the century following R. Chananel’s enactment, Qaraites included chicken,
duck and and other birds on their kosher list and cooked these fowl with dairy.
Now that Rabbanite and Qaraite Jews shared the same list of kosher birds they
could eat poultry meals together. Rambam responded by requiring a six hour wait
for poultry as well, to assure that the two groups would not overly socialize –
so as to avoid Rabbanite Jews being drawn to and accepting Qaraite views.



Lithuanian Government Announces Construction of a $25,000,000 Convention Center in the Center of Vilna’s Oldest Jewish Cemetery

Lithuanian Government Announces
Construction of a $25,000,000 Convention Center
in the Center of Vilna’s Oldest Jewish Cemetery
by Sid Leiman

According to Russian statistics, Vilna had close to 200,000 inhabitants just prior to World War I, roughly forty percent of whom were Jewish, more than thirty percent were Polish, and about twenty percent were Russian and the rest consisted of small Lithuanian, Byelorussian, German and Tartar minorities.[1]

In 1919, the Paris Peace Conference was convened by the winning parties of World War I. Its purpose was to map the future of postwar Europe. When the status of Vilna came up for discussion, the Lithuanians claimed Vilnius as the rightful historical capital of independent Lithuania; the Poles rejected such claims on the basis of the cultural and linguistic affinities of Wilno to Poland. The Soviet regime, in diplomatic isolation, voiced its opinion that although Vilna had been part of Russia, the Bolsheviks were ready to share it with the oppressed peoples (mostly peasants) of Lithuanian and Byelorussian origins. Nobody asked or wanted to hear what Vilne meant to the Jews.[2]

I. Prologue.

In the summer of 1935, the municipal authorities of Vilna, then under Polish rule, announced that a sports stadium would be constructed on the site of Vilna’s oldest Jewish cemetery.3 At the time, the graves and tombstones of such greats as R. Menahem Mannes Chajes (d. 1636), one of Vilna’s earliest Chief Rabbis; R. Moshe Rivkes (d. 1671), author of Be’er Ha-Golah, a classic commentary on the Shulhan Arukh; R. Shlomo Zalman (d. 1788), younger brother of R. Hayyim of Volozhin and a favorite disciple of the Gaon of Vilna; R. Elijah b. Solomon (d. 1797), the Gaon of Vilna; and R. Abraham Danzig (d. 1820), author of Hayye Adam, a digest of practical Jewish law, stood in all their glory together with several thousand graves of all the Jewish men, women and children who had lived and died in Vilna between the years of 1592 and 1831.[4]

Tombstone Inscription of R. Menahem Mannes Chajes (d. 1636), embedded in the wall at the extreme left, in the Old Jewish Cemetery.
Tomb of R. Shlomo Zalman (d. 1788), younger brother of R. Hayyim of Volozhin, in the Old Jewish Cemetery.
Tomb of R. Elijah b. Solomon (d. 1797), the Gaon of Vilna, top right, in the Old Jewish Cemetery.
Grave and Tombstone Inscription of R. Abraham Danzig (d. 1820), center, in the Old Jewish Cemetery.

R. Chaim Ozer Grodzenski, spiritual leader of Vilna Jewry, as well as the leading Torah authority of his generation, interceded on behalf of Vilna and worldwide Jewry. He made it clear than no such desecration of a Jewish cemetery would be tolerated by the Jewish community. When the municipal authorities informed him that under the laws that applied at the time any cemetery not in use for one hundred years or more (the old Jewish cemetery was closed in 1831 due to lack of space) could be demolished by government decision, R. Chaim Ozer was adamant and informed the authorities that Jewish law prohibits the desecration of any Jewish cemetery, whether or not presently in use. Moreover, R. Chaim Ozer informed the authorities that the Jewish community would not comply in any way with the immoral demands of the municipal government. An attempt at a compromise was then made by the authorities; they were prepared to allow the section where the famous rabbis were buried to remain standing, so long as the Jewish community would agree to allow the government to demolish the remainder of the cemetery – where ordinary folk, i.e., men, women, and children were buried. R. Chaim Ozer ruled out any such compromise solution and, instead, engaged in a tireless, worldwide lobbying campaign, in an effort to persuade the government officials to rescind their decree.[5]

R. Chaim Ozer Grodzenski (in 1939).

When some rabbis in Palestine – sensing the gravity of the situation – issued a broadside calling for the grave of the Gaon of Vilna to be exhumed so that his remains could be transferred to the Holy Land, R. Chaim Ozer was livid. For, explained R. Chaim Ozer, by acquiescing to the exhumation and transfer of famous rabbis, one in effect consigns the rest of the cemetery to mass destruction. Moreover, it sets a precedent for all governments in Europe – just transfer the famous rabbis out of the Jewish cemetery and the Jews will agree to abandon the remainder of the cemetery.[6] The upshot of R. Chaim Ozer’s wisdom and intransigence was that under his watch,

no sports stadium was constructed on the old Jewish cemetery.[7] R. Chaim Ozer died on August 9 [= 5 Av], 1940.[8] Vilna, and arguably world Jewry, would never again have a leader who so deftly and gracefully combined within himself mastery of Torah, practical wisdom, and an unswerving commitment to the dissemination and protection of Jewish values – with profound and unstinting loyalty to his people, both living and deceased – under any and all circumstances.

II. Statement of Faina Kukliansky, Chairperson of the Lithuanian Jewish Community, Vilnius, August 15, 2015:[9]

Despite a Jerusalem Post story that would suggest otherwise (“Anger Flares Over Lithuanian Sports Palace,” Sam Sokol, 8/11/2015) there is today a remarkable consensus in Vilnius that the site of the former Snipiskes Cemetery and the graves beneath must be protected. On this matter, the government of Lithuania, the Lithuanian Jewish community which I chair, and the Committee for the Preservation of Jewish Cemeteries in Europe (CPJCE), which is Europe’s foremost halachic authority on cemeteries, all agree.

Attention is now focused on the abandoned former Soviet Sports Palace, which partially sits on the cemetery grounds and in its current condition is mostly a gathering place for graffiti artists and alcoholics. The government rightly wants to remove the building and turn it into a center for conferences and cultural events. Because the building itself has been designated an architectural heritage site, no significant structural changes are possible, but the interior will be renovated. The surrounding area will be maintained as a memorial park with inscriptions that describe some of the most famous people who were buried there.

The Lithuanian government and the CPJCE have an agreement dating to 2009, concerning the cemetery site. Even though we are only in a planning stage and still months away from any construction, recent discussions between the two have worked out an understanding for dealing with the renovation of the former Sports Palace. The CPJCE will provide rabbinic oversight and ensure that there are no halachic violations in the course of the work that takes place. The government has further agreed to limit the type of activities that will take place in the renovated center so that they are in keeping with the special nature of the site.

If anything, this should be a cause for celebration and a model for how other governments in our part of the world should deal with similar challenges of respecting and protecting Jewish cemeteries and the mass graves of Holocaust victims.

So what accounts for the “angry voices” in your story and the outrageous claims that a “desecration” is taking place?

No doubt some of those quoted are simply uninformed, and this fuller explanation will assuage their concerns. But sadly there are others who do know better but are using this issue to advance their own personal feuds and grievances. Some of them are rivals to the CPJCE, and while they would never publicly criticize its eminent Chairman, Rabbi Elyakim Schlesinger, they pretend not to know his involvement here. Perhaps even more destructive is the role being played by our community’s former rabbi, Chaim Burstein. His contract was recently terminated – he has spent more days abroad on his personal business than serving our Jews here in Lithuania – and so he is spreading these stories in order to attack me. It pains me to say these things, but your readers should know the truth.

As a proud Litvak who has the honor to chair a small but resilient Jewish community I have been part of many difficult struggles during these past decades as we have pressed the Lithuanian government to return former Jewish property and pressed the Lithuanian people to squarely confront the history of our Holocaust-era past. Those struggles are not over, but we have had much success. How ironic that as we now have Lithuanian leaders who are prepared to see clearly what happened in the past, we have fellow Jews who refuse to see clearly what is happening today.

Faina Kukliansky

III. Response to the Chairperson of the Lithuanian Jewish Community:
           

On August 15, 2015, Faina Kukliansky, Chairperson of the Lithuanian Jewish Community, issued a statement regarding the planned $25,000,000 Convention Center to be constructed by the Lithuanian government, and funded in large part by the European Union’s Structural Funds Program, in the center of Vilnius’ oldest Jewish cemetery – in use from the 16th through the 19th centuries – in the Shnipishkes (Yiddish: Shnipishok) section of Vilnius.

In the opening paragraph of the statement, Faina Kukliansky assures all concerned “that the site of the former Snipiskes cemetery and the graves beneath must be protected.” Her assurance, however, rings hollow, for as one reads on, it becomes apparent that she fully supports the idea of a Convention Center being constructed over the remains of the Jews buried in the cemetery.[10]

Ms. Kukliansky writes about the “abandoned former Soviet Sports Palace, which partially sits on the cemetery grounds.” One gets the impression that perhaps an annex to the Soviet-era Sports Palace, or its outer wall, sits on the cemetery grounds. In fact, the Soviet-era Sports Palace sits squarely in the very center of the old Jewish cemetery.[11]

Soviet-Era Sports Palace in Vilna, as it looks today, in the Old Jewish Cemetery.

Ms. Kukliansky continues: “Because the building [i.e., the Soviet-era Sports Palace] itself has been designated an architectural heritage site, no changes are possible.” Really? It was in the Soviet period that all the tombstones were systematically removed from the cemetery between 1948 and 1955, and it was in the Soviet period that a Sports Palace was constructed over the dead bodies of thousands of Vilnius Jews.[12] Now who was it that designated the Soviet Sports Palace an architectural heritage site? If it was the Soviets, what has this to do with Independent Lithuania? If, however, it was Independent Lithuania that made this designation, then rectification is long overdue. Indeed, the government of Lithuania should recognize the Shnipishkes Jewish cemetery as a heritage site of the Jewish community of Vilnius from the 16th through the 19th centuries. It should certainly not condone and perpetuate the Soviet desecration of a Jewish cemetery. That the EU supports such misuse of funds is nothing short of scandalous. Surely, there is ample room in and around Vilnius for the construction of a Convention Center someplace other than smack in the center of historically, the single most important Jewish cemetery in Lithuania and one of the most important in all of Europe.

Ms. Kukliansky labels those who disagree with her as “simply uninformed” or having a particular axe to grind. She does not entertain the possibility that building a Convention Center over a Jewish cemetery is not everybody’s cup of tea. I’m afraid it is Ms. Kukliansky who seems to be unaware of how many thousands of graves remain on the site, of how often bones have surfaced in recent years on the face of the cemetery,[13] and how despite prior agreements with the Lithuanian authorities, two entire buildings were constructed in recent years on the cemetery grounds.[14] Does she really believe – as she claims – that the construction of a $25,000,000 Convention Center will involve no excavation outside the present perimeters of the Soviet-era Sports Palace? Does she really believe – as she claims – that the type of activities that will take place in the renovated center will be in keeping with the special nature of the site? I wonder who is “simply uninformed.”

Faina Kukliansky writes: “If anything, this should be a cause for celebration and a model for how governments in our part of the world should deal with similar challenges of respecting and protecting Jewish cemeteries and mass graves of Holocaust victims.”

Nations of Eastern Europe take note! If you want to deal with respecting and protecting Jewish cemeteries, learn from the Vilnius experience. First remove and destroy all Jewish tombstones, and afterwards excavate wherever possible and destroy the remains of those who were buried there. Then build a Sports Palace or a Convention Center in the heart of the Jewish cemetery! Make certain that the new structures are designated architectural heritage sites, so that they cannot be dismantled. This should be followed by a celebration of how Jewish cemeteries have been respected and protected in the most proper fashion.

Faina Kukliansky is to be congratulated for assuming the responsibility of leading a “small but resilient Jewish community.” Sadly, she makes no mention of the fact that heartfelt and pained voices have been raised by a number of distinguished members of her small community, voicing strong opposition to the construction of the Convention Center in the Jewish cemetery.[15] But there is another issue here. Faina Kukliansky is much too modest in thinking that the “small and resilient Jewish community” of Vilnius is her only constituency. The Vilnius Jewish cemeteries belong not only to Vilnius and its Jewish community. The spiritual, as well as the genetic, descendants of the thousands of men and women buried in the Shnipishkes and Zaretcha Jewish cemeteries live the world over. They remember their ancestors, study their writings, often live by their teachings, and should have the right to pray at their graves in a cemetery not desecrated by a Convention Center.

Faina Kukliansky would do well to weigh carefully the consequences of the precedent she is setting. By lending her support to the construction of a Convention Center over the old Jewish cemetery, she places in jeopardy every Jewish cemetery in Europe and, perhaps, elsewhere as well. True, she claims that she relies on a rabbinic ruling issued by the CPJCE in London. Distinguished rabbis the world over, however, have raised their voices in unison against the construction of a Convention Center in the old Jewish cemetery, rendering the London opinion – at best – a minority one. These voices include the leading halakhic authorities in Israel16 and the United States,17 and the present heads of the great yeshivot that once graced Lithuania, which due to the Holocaust and Soviet repression had to resettle elsewhere.18 Faina Kukliansky would also do well to remember the voice raised long ago by her pre-World War II predecessor in Vilna, Rabbi Chaim Ozer Grodzenski. He did not allow the Polish government to desecrate the very Jewish cemetery that is about to be desecrated by the Lithuanian government with her approval.

Sid Leiman
Professor Emeritus of Jewish History and Literature
Brooklyn College

September 13, 2015
Erev Rosh Ha-Shanah 5776

Notes:

[1] Laimonas Briedis, Vilnius: City of Strangers (Vilnius, 2009), p. 168.
[2] Briedis, op. cit., p. 195. [The Briedis quotes have been slightly edited by me for the sake of clarity. -SL]
[3] See Yaakov Kosovsky-Shahor, ed., אגרות רחיים עוזר (Bnei Brak, 2000), vol. 1, pp. 400-401. Cf. Dov Eliach, הגאון (Jerusalem, 2002), vol. 3, p. 1142. See also the brief notice in Israel Klausner,
וילנא ירושלים דליטא: דורות האחרונים (Tel-Aviv, 1983), vol. 2, p. 554.
[4] For a concise history of the old Jewish cemetery in Vilna, see Israel Klausner, קורות בית העלמין הישן בוילנה (Vilna, 1935).
[5] In general, see Kosovsky-Shahor, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 400-405.
[6] Kosovsky-Shahor, op. cit., vol. 1, pp. 402-403.
[7] A soccer field, just north of the old Jewish cemetery, was initiated in 1936 and eventually became Zalgiris Stadium when construction was completed by the Soviets in 1950. See Antanas Papshys, Vilnius: A Guide (Moscow, 1980), p. 127. It is still in use in Vilnius.
[8] For a moving account of his funeral, see Yosef Friedlander, “The Day Vilna Died,” Tradition 37:2 (2003), pp. 88-92.
[9] Faina Kukliansky’s statement was translated from Lithuanian into English and posted on August 15, 2015 on the Lithuanian Jewish Community website here. For the full context of the “Convention Center on the Old Jewish Cemetery” controversy, and for a comprehensive paper trail of statements made by Faina Kukliansky and the various parties involved in the controversy to date, see here. This site exists due to the incredible industry of the indefatigable Professor Dovid Katz of Vilnius, who also has prepared a register of all public voices that have been raised in opposition to the proposed construction of a Convention Center on the old Jewish cemetery, available here.
[10] One suspects that Ms. Kukliansky distinguishes between the land under the former Soviet-era Sport Palace (which, due to the excavations necessary for its construction, presumably led to the disposal of all Jewish remains that had been buried there) and the land surrounding the former Soviet-era Sports Palace (which presumably retains the remains of all those Jews who had been buried there). Thus, she feels comfortable with the construction of a Convention Center over the former Soviet-era Sports Palace. In terms of Jewish law, however, such a distinction is meaningless. Once a Jewish cemetery is consecrated it becomes a hallowed place, much like a synagogue. Like a synagogue, it cannot be used for secular purposes and it may not be desecrated in any way. And like a synagogue, it retains its sanctity whether or not Jews are actually present at any specific time or on a specific day. The Jewish cemetery remains hallowed in its entirety, even if all the remains have been removed from it; how much more so if remains are strewn throughout the cemetery! On the hallowed status of a Jewish cemetery, see, e.g., R. Jacob Moellin (d. 1427), ספר מהריל: מנהגים (Jerusalem, 1989), laws of fasting, p. 270; R. Elijah Shapira, אליהו רבה על ספרי הלבושים, to שלחן ערוך אורח חיים 581:4, note 39; and R. Judah Ashkenazi (d. circa 1742), באר היטב, and R. Samuel Kolin (d. 1806), מחצית השקל, to שלחן ערוך אורח חיים 581:4. In all the passages just cited, every Jewish cemetery is described as a מקום קדוש, i.e. a holy place – which is precisely why Jewish cemeteries are designated as places appropriate for prayer. When a municipal office building, or an apartment house, or a convention center is constructed on a Jewish cemetery, it as an act of desecration. Ms. Kukliansky seems upset about “the outrageous claims that a desecration is taking place.” The claims are hardly outrageous; it is the desecration that is taking place that is outrageous.

That a Jewish cemetery retains its hallowed status even if some or all the remains are removed from it and buried elsewhere is an official ruling of many rabbis, including R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach (d. 1995), one of the greatest halakhic decisors of modern times. At שות מנחת שלמה (Jerusalem, 1999), vol. 2, responsum 88, p. 338, he rules unequivocally: “A Jewish cemetery, even if should happen that its remains have been exhumed, remains prohibited [for secular use, or for being sold to a second party], and always retains its character as a Jewish cemetery.” Cf. R. Moshe Feinstein,אגרות משה: יורה דעה חלק ג (New York, 1982), responsum 151, pp. 418-419.
[11] This can be seen by examining maps of the Jewish cemetery prepared during the last 200 years, as well as detailed photographs of the Jewish cemetery taken in the last 100 years. Even U.S. intelligence reports released by Wikileaks concede that “the Sports Palace property indisputably rests in the middle of the former cemetery.” See here.
[12] The Soviet-built Sports Palace, used primarily for volleyball and basketball games, was opened in 1971 and remained in use in Independent Lithuania until 2004.
[13] The evidence here is shocking indeed. See, e.g., Binyomin Rabinowitz, “Can Anything Be Done to Save the Remnants of Vilna’s Old Jewish Cemetery,” Dei’ah VeDibur (August 31, 2005), pp. 1-9, available online here.
[14] See, e.g., the Wikipedia entry on “Jewish Cemeteries of Vilnius”: “The Palace of Concerts and Sports (Lithuanian: Koncertų ir sporto rūmai) was built in 1971 right in the middle of the former cemetery. In 2005, apartment and office buildings were built at the site,” here.
[15] See, e.g., Ruta (Reyzke) Bloshtein’s stirring plea to the Lithuanian government online here.
[16] E.g, Rabbi Samuel Auerbach of Jerusalem, son and successor of R. Shlomo Zalman Auerbach.
[17] The list is much too long to be included here. Suffice to mention: Rabbi David Feinstein (head of Mesivta Tiferet Jerusalem), Rabbi Aharon Feldman (head of Ner Israel Rabbinical College), Rabbi Shmuel Kamenetsky (head of Talmudical Yeshiva of Philadelphia), and Rabbi Aaron M. Schechter (head of Mesivta Chaim Berlin).
[18] These include Rabbi Chaim Dov Heller, head of the Telz Yeshiva, formerly in Telshiai, Lithuania; Rabbi Osher Kalmanowitz, head of the Mirrer yeshiva, formerly in Mir, Greater Lithuania (today in Belarus); and Rabbi Aryeh Malkiel Kotler, head of the Beth Medrash Govoha in Lakewood, formerly in Kleck and Sluck, Greater Lithuania (today in Belarus).




ArtScroll and More

ArtScroll and More
by Marc B. Shapiro
Continued from here.
1. As mentioned, I believe that on occasion ArtScroll is unaware that the text it is explaining is a censored text. Sometimes it might even be an internally censored text (i.e., censored by Jews so as to avoid difficulties with the non-Jewish authorities). This same problem is often found with aharonim. How about with rishonim? For example, was Rashi ever misled by an internally censored text? I would hesitate to say so but this is exactly what is suggested by R. Elijah David Rabinowitz-Teomim (the Aderet), though he piously prefaces his remarks with the words לולי דברי רש”י.
Sanhedrin 58b states:
Resh Lakish said: A heathen who keeps a day of rest, deserves death, for it is written, “And a day and a night they shall not rest” (Gen. 8:22), and a master has said: Their prohibition is their death sentence. Ravina said: Even if he rested on a Monday.
The Aderet sees it as obvious (פשוט) that the original version of Ravina’s statement was “Even if he rested on Sunday,” and this was changed to “Monday” due to fear of the Christians.[1] Rashi, however, offers an explanation as to why “Monday” is mentioned, meaning that if the Aderet is correct then even Rashi was misled by the altered text.[2]
As part of his explanation on this passage, Rashi also writes: אחד בשבת ששובתין בו הנוצרים. This is the authentic version of Rashi which appears in the early Talmud printings. It is also found in Steinsaltz and Oz ve-Hadar. The censored Vilna Talmud, followed by ArtScroll, omit the word הנוצרים.
Even in the censored Vilna Talmud the word הנוצרים appears in Ta’anit 27b where we find the following:

Our Rabbis have taught: The men of the Mishmar prayed over the sacrifice of their brethren that it may be favorably accepted, whilst the men of the Ma’amad assembled in their synagogues and observed four fasts, on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday of that week. On Monday [they fasted] for those that go down to the sea; on Tuesday for those who travel in the deserts; on Wednesday that croup may not attack children; on Thursday for pregnant women and nursing mothers, that pregnant women should not suffer a miscarriage, and that nursing mothers may be able to nurse their infants; on Friday they did not fast out of respect for the Sabbath; and certainly not on the Sabbath. Why did they not fast on Sunday? — R. Johanan said: Because of the Christians (הנוצרים). R. Samuel b. Nahmani said: Because it is the third day after the creation of Man. Resh Lakish said: Because of the additional soul. For Resh Lakish said: Man is given an additional soul on Friday, but at the termination of the Sabbath it is taken away from him, as it is said, “He ceased from work and rested” [shavat va-yinafash], that is to say, once the rest had ceased, woe! that soul is gone.

There is something very strange about this passage, and yet it is not noted in Soncino, ArtScroll, Koren, or by R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes whom I could have expected to pick up on it. I assume that most people read this passage without even realizing the problem, which for the rishonim was not a problem as I will explain. The Sages, in describing what went on in Second Temple days, make clear that the men of the Ma’amad did not fast on Sunday. R. Johanan, who lived in third-century Eretz Yisrael, says that this was because of the Christians. Rashi explains that the Christians “make this day [Sunday] their holiday.”[3] R. Gershom, in his commentary on the passage, writes that the Christians’ “holiday is on Sunday and if the Jews would fast they [the Christians] would be angered.”[4]
The problem with all this is that in the days of the Second Temple there was no significant Christian community for Jews to be concerned with. Furthermore, these early followers of Jesus would not have observed the Sabbath on Sunday.[5] I think the answer to this problem is that the talmudic sages regarded Jesus as a student of R. Joshua ben Perahyah who flourished in the latter part of the second century BCE (i.e., ca. 130-100 BCE). In other words, in the talmudic conception Jesus lived at least a century earlier than the historical record tells us, and the amoraim assumed that the Christianity as they knew it was also practiced centuries before. Robert Travers Herford writes: “R. Johanan transferred to the time of the Temple a feature of the religious life of his own totally different time.”[6] The predating of Jesus’ life was also shared by the rishonim, which explains why the chronological problem did not trouble them.
Ketubot 102b states:

If a man died and left a young son with his mother, [and while] the father’s heirs demand, ‘Let him be brought up with us’, his mother claims, ‘My son should be brought up by me’, [the son] must be left with his mother and may not be left with anyone who is entitled to be his heir. Such a case once occurred and [the heirs] killed him ער”ה.

What does ער”ה mean? The first thing to note is that these letters are not part of the original talmudic text. In talmudic manuscripts, the writings of the rishonim, and also the early printed editions in Pesaro and Venice, the uncensored text reads “killed him on the eve of Passover.”[7] Because this is the authentic reading, this is how it appears in Steinsaltz, Koren, and Soncino. ArtScroll, however, translates the last words of the passage as “They butchered him on the first evening of his stay,” reading ער”ה as ערב הראשון.
ArtScroll’s action is quite strange, as there is absolutely no question what the authentic reading of the text is. Not only does ArtScroll translate the false acronym, but it even offers an explanation of it. “They were so eager for his blood that he did not even last a single night with him. They killed him on the evening of his arrival.” This is wildly incorrect as the acronym ער”ה is simply a printer’s invention.
ArtScroll continues its explanation as follows:

The words ערב הראשון, the first evening, are not actually found in the Baraisa. Rather, the Baraisa contains an acronym – ער”ה – which is read as ערב הראשון (see Rosh; Mesoras HaShas). Another interpretation of this acronym reads it as ערב הפסח, on Pesach eve (Meiri; Hagahos Yavetz)

This note also needs to be corrected as there is no dispute among rishonim about how to how to read the acronym, as the acronym did not exist in the days of the rishonim. It is an invention of one of the printed editions. Thus, contrary to what the note states, Meiri never gave an interpretation of the acronym to mean ערב הפסח. Rather, these words were in his text of the Talmud, and they were also in the Rosh’s text of the Talmud and appear in the manuscripts of the Rosh. The printed version of the Rosh has been “corrected”, just like the text of the Talmud and Rif was “corrected”.[8]
Why did printed editions of the Talmud begin to use the acronym? This talmudic passage was cited by anti-Semites to support the blood libel, namely, that Jews would kill Christian children before Passover to use their blood.[9] Thus, this “correction”, like so many others, was designed to undermine anti-Semitic attacks against the Talmud.[10]       
Seth Leibowitz called my attention to the Stone Chumash, p. 407, where in the introduction to the Ten Commandments it states:

Rambam (Moreh Nevuchim II:32) comments that they only heard the first two [commandments] from God, but they could hear only the sound of the Divine voice, as it were, and could not understand the words He was saying. . . . Thus, the people experienced prophecy, for they heard God’s voice, but their faith in Moses was reinforced, because only he understood what God was saying.

The first thing to note is that the reference should be II:33 not II:32. The passage just quoted states that the people experienced prophecy. Does Maimonides say this? Guide 2:33 is a very difficult chapter and any interpretation given can be challenged with alternative perspectives. (See Yaakov Levinger, Ha-Rambam ke-Filosof u-khe-Fosek, ch. 3.) Yet I think I am on safe ground in saying that Maimonides does not believe that what the people as a whole experienced is to be regarded as prophecy. While Guide 2:33 might be ambiguous in this matter, the previous chapter, 2:32, states explicitly: “As for the Gathering at Mount Sinai, though through a miracle all the people saw the great fire and heard the frightening and terrifying voices, only those who were fit for it achieved the rank of prophecy, and even those in various degrees.”
Shem Tov explains:
ואחר שסלק הרב אלו הטעיות אשר יראה מהם שהשם ינבא כל איש מבני אדם, סלק מעלינו ספק גדול והוא מעמד הר סיני אשר אנשים ונשים סכלים ובלתי ראויים כל היו נביאים וזה יביא לחשוב שהשם ית’ ינבא כל מי שירצה מבלתי שיהיה מוכן, ואמר שאף שכלם היו רואים האש הגדולה ושומעים הקולות הנוראות המפחידות וזה היה על צד הפלא, לא הגיע למדרגת הנבואה אלא הראוי לה והראויים יתחלפו מדרגותיהם ג”כ
Finally, so that all the attention is not on ArtScroll, the following point was called to my attention by Benjamin Apfel. Here is the first page of Jastrow’s introduction to his dictionary. Read the last paragraph.

Here is the first page of Philip Birnbaum’s introduction to his translation of sections of the Mishneh Torah.[11]
The first paragraph is lifted from Jastrow. Would it have been so difficult for Birnbaum to simply add a note indicating that he was adapting Jastrow’s words?
2. In my post here I referred to selections from Rashbam’s commentary on Psalms that were recently printed from manuscript. This should be distinguished from Rashbam’s commentary on Psalms published in Vienna in 1816 by Isaac Satanow. Here is the title page which tells us that the manuscript comes from the royal library in Berlin.
This commentary on Psalms is a forgery. While the volume is attributed to Rashbam it was actually written by Satanow. Regarding this forgery, David Rosin writes as follows:[12]
הכי קרא שמו יצחק ויהי כצחוק בעיניו להתחפש במעטה רבנו שמואל ולעשות מעשהו ולעבוד עבודתו. זר מעשהו ונכריה עבודתו, כל השומע יצחק לו
3. In my post here I quoted R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi in his Ho’il Moshe that King David is not to be regarded as a prophet as he only had ruah ha-kodesh. One of the commenters wrote:

Rashi Megilla 14a quotes a Halachot Gedolot which names David as [a] prophet. Rashi speaks specifically about prophets as opposed to Ruach Hakodesh, and excludes Daniel based on Megilla 3a.

 Another commenter was more strident:

Wonderful example how modern scholars have no place in the Torah world! As first commenter pointed out, Dovid Hamelech is prominent in the list of 48 neviim, and there are scores of sugyos based on the nevuah of DH. The makom mizbeach, etc. Pure AmHaaRatzus!

I am not sure if I am the am ha-aretz he is referring to, which in any case would be uncalled for since I never said that David only had ruah ha-kodesh and was therefore not a prophet. All I did was point out that R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi said this. When I called the commenter’s attention to the fact that his strong words were directed against R. Ashkenazi, he wrote:

I wouldn’t start up with Hoil Moshe, but was pointing out the danger of someone reading this post, and then taking it at face value. For anyone fluent in Shas they will find numerous references to DH’s nevua. Ruach HaKodesh wouldn’t work for all the halachos we learn out from DH. . . . I do thoroughly enjoy your posts, but find them quite dangerous. I would prefer my children at least stick to Artscroll and have their basics –DH’s nevua – straight!

Now let me say something that I did not put in the comments because I want the entire audience to see it, not just the tiny group that reads the comments. The commenter just quoted is a perfect example of one who is certain of something, and certain that the opposing position is incorrect, and this leads to very harsh language. Let’s leave aside R. Moses Isaac Ashkenazi who is not an important scholar. All would agree that R. Moses Sofer, the Hatam Sofer, is important and certainly not an am ha’aretz (which is the term the commenter used). Yet the Hatam Sofer is explicit that David was not a prophet and only had ruah ha-kodesh, which is exactly what R. Ashkenazi states and what the commenter so harshly attacks. Here are the Hatam Sofer’s words in Torat Moshe ha-ShalemBa-Midbar, p. 74.

הנה לא מצינו לישראל מלך שיהי’ גם נביא משולח לעם כי אם משה רבינו ע”ה, דכתיב גבי’ (דברים ל”ג ה’) ויהי בישורון מלך, אבל שארי נביאים לא היו מלכים והמלכים לא התנבאו, ודוד המלך ע”ה רה”ק הו”ל ולא נבואה, ולכן אחז”ל (גיטין נ”ט ע”א) מימות משה עד רבי לא מצינו תורה וגדולה במקום אחד, דאלו כל הנביאים היו עליהם בגדולה השופט והמלך שבימיו, וכל המלכים אפי’ דוד ושלמה היו הנביאים שבדורם גדולים מהם בתורה . . . שהרי אין מלך נביא.

This notion, that the kings were not prophets (other than Moses), is also stated in Zohar, Terumah, p. 154a, and this is presumably the Hatam Sofer’s source. I don’t deny that there are other authoritative sources that contradict this, including passages in the Talmud. Some of them are cited by R. Reuven Margaliyot in his note to the Zohar, ad loc., and we can speculate as to why the Hatam Sofer preferred the Zohar over these other sources. I cite this only to show that commenters should be very careful before labeling something as am ha’aratzus, as you never know whom you might be insulting with this comment.

4. The latest book in my series with Academic Studies Press has recently appeared. It is Sara Reguer, My Father’s Journey: A Memoir of Lost Worlds of Jewish Lithuania. (Reguer is the granddaughter of R. Simcha Zelig Reguer, the dayan of Brisk.) Here is the book’s description.

Born into a leading Lithuanian-Jewish rabbinic family, Moshe Aron Reguer initially followed the path of traditional yeshiva education. His adolescence coincided with World War I and its upheavals, pandemics, and pogroms, as well as with new ideas of Haskalah, Zionism, and socialism. His memoir, recently discovered and here translated and published for the first time, discusses his internal struggles and describes the world around him and the people who influenced him. Moshe Aron Reguer wrote his memoir at the age of 23, on the eve of his departure for Eretz Israel in 1926. However, his story did not end there, but continued in British Mandated Palestine and the United States. He kept in touch with the family in Brest-Litovsk until the Nazis destroyed Jewish Lithuania, and some of their correspondence is included within this volume.

Anyone who is interested in Jewish Lithuania and the great yeshivot will find this book of value.

I also want to call attention to the recent publication of Menachem Kellner, Jewish Universalism, edited by Hava Tirosh-Samuelson and Aaron W. Hughes. Kellner’s work has made a great impact, not only in Jewish scholarship but among thinking Jews in general. This small volume is a wonderful read and contains an intellectual portrait of Kellner written by James A. Diamond as well as a lengthy interview with Kellner.

This book is number 12 in Brill’s Library of Contemporary Jewish Philosophers. Here is what has appeared so far and what if forthcoming (taken from the Brill website).

Published Volumes

Vol. 1: Eliezer Schweid: The Responsibility of Jewish Philosophy
Vol. 2: Jonathan Sacks: Universalizing Particularity
Vol. 3: David Novak: Natural Law and Revealed Torah
Vol. 4: Eugene B. Borowitz: Rethinking God and Ethics
Vol. 5: Elliot N. Dorff: In Search of the Good Life
Vol. 6: Judith Plaskow: Feminism, Theology, and Justice
Vol. 7: David R. Blumenthal: Living with God and Humanity
Vol. 8: Moshe Idel: Representing God
Vol. 9: Lenn E. Goodman: Judaism, Humanity, and Nature
Vol. 10: Avi Sagi: Existentialism, Pluralism, and Identity
Vol. 11: Elliot R. Wolfson: Poetic Thinking
Vol. 12: Menachem Kellner: Jewish Universalism

Forthcoming Volumes

Vol. 13: J. David Bleich: Where Halakhah and Philosophy Meet (est. October 2015)
Vol. 14: Michael Fishbane: Jewish Hermeneutical Theology (est. October 2015)
Vol. 15: Norbert M. Samuelson: Reasoned Faith (est. November 2015)
Vol. 16: Arthur Green: Hasidism for Tomorrow (est. January 2016)

5. The issue of truth-telling in halakhic matters, discussed in the last chapter of my new book, has been of interest to many people. I did not want to be too lengthy in my response to Aryeh Frimer here, because it was not my own independent post. So let me now add some more details. DG reminded me of the following source. According to R. Jacob Moellin, when the Talmud states that a law is rabbinic but a verse is brought as an asmachta, this was done so as to mislead the people into thinking that it is a Torah law so that they would observe it more carefully.[13] In other words, the Sages were engaging in falsehood for a higher purpose.

This is exactly the sort of thing that Frimer claimed is not part of mainstream halakhic thought, a point which I disputed. It also is very relevant to my discussion of the dispute between the Hatam Sofer and R. Zvi Hirsch Chajes regarding “raising the prohibition”. Here are the Maharil’s words, as quoted by his student.

כל היכא דאיתמר מדרבנן הוא וקרא אסמכתא בעלמא, הכי פירושו ודאי תקנתא דרבנן הוא והם יצאו ובדקו ומצאו להם סמך מקרא, וסמכו דבריהם עליו כדי להחזיקם שיהיו סבורים דהוא מדאורייתא ויחמירו בו, ולא אתו לזלזל ולהקל בדברי חכמים

In the notes to this text, the editor informs us that one of the manuscripts has a different version. Instead of כדי להחזיקם שיהיו סבורים it reads להטעות הבריות שהם סבורים. This text is even more explicit that the Sages were not being honest with the masses. This manuscript has a handwritten note explaining that instead of reading להטעות הבריות it should say להטעים לבריות because the word להטעות is a דבר מגונה . In other words, the person who made this “correction” was troubled by the explicit statement that the Sages would deceive people, even if it was for a higher cause.

If there is one thing people have learnt from my posts over the years, it is that whenever you find a passage that diverges radically from what others think is appropriate, you will find those who deny the passage’s authenticity. In this case, the most prominent of the deniers is R. Joseph Engel[14]:

לענ”ד לא מיסתברי כלל ולא אאמין כלל שיצאו מפה קדוש המהרי”ל ז”ל

R. Simhah Klein writes[15]:
וכי ישקרו חז”ל לחזק דבריהם שיהיו סבורין דהוא דאורייתא

However, R. Eliyahu Bohbut is not at all bothered by the claim of the Maharil that the Sages engaged in a form of deception vis-à-vis the masses. After quoting the passage he explains matter-of-factly[16]:

כלומר דאסמכתא באה כביכול “להטעות” את העם שיסברו דאיכא איסור דאורייתא “ויחמירו בו”

Regarding one of the other matters I discussed in the book, namely, so-called “Orthodox history”, the folllowing appears in Divrei David (p. 30a), a collection of teachings of R. David Moses Friedman, the first Chortkover Rebbe.

פ”א סיפרו לפניו על איזה מעשה שאדמ”ור מרוזין זי”ע סיפר אותו פעם בסינגון זה ופעם בסיגנון אחר אמר על זה מרן אדמ”ור זי”ע שהסיפורי מעשיות שמספרים הצדיקים הוא לפי מה שצריך באותו שעה

This is an acknowledgment that the stories told by the rebbes are not really history, as they are designed to serve the needs of the present. As I think most people today realize, haredi “historical” writing in general is as much about the present as the past, and it is precisely because of this that authors feel it is legitimate to cover up or even alter the historical record in order to best serve the religious needs of the present.

Finally, a few people have asked about what I wrote on p. 244, that the strand of Jewish tradition that countenances falsehood “deserves to be understood in a sympathetic manner as well”. This does not mean that people need to agree with those who countenance falsehood, and I certainly do not. However, in writing an academic study as opposed to a polemic, it is important to recognize that approaches that today we might regard as unacceptable, were viewed very differently in other times and cultures (and for some, these “other times and cultures” continue into our own day). I am interested in understanding what leads people to diverge so dramatically from a value that I regard as important. In my book I did not set out to judge them, but in a sympathetic manner, i.e, with a sensitivity to their worldview, attempt to understand them. (When I used the word “sympathetic”, I did not mean that I approved of what I was describing, only that I was sensitive to the motivations behind the approach.) By the same token, when I see that great figures from earlier years have written troubling things about non-Jews or women, I also approach this in a sympathetic manner, understanding that for these people, living in a vastly different time and often suffering under terrible anti-Semitism, it made sense that they would express certain thoughts that today pretty much everyone regards as unacceptable. One need not be a complete historicist to acknowledge that all people are influenced by their era, for good and for bad. This is what I mean by understanding in a sympathetic manner.

Coming Soon: R. Ysoscher Katz and Modern Orthodox Halakhah; The Nineteenth- and Early Twentieth-Century Dispute Regarding the Historicity of the Hanukkah Miracle; R. Steinman and the Messianic Belief; R. Mazuz’s Short-Lived Entry into Politics; and a response to R. Aharon Lopiansky’s article in Dialogue.


[1] See his note in Mekabtzi’el 36 (2009), p. 64.
[2] Was Maimonides ever misled by a censored text? According to R. Eliyahu Zini, Eretz Hemdatenu, p. 75, this was indeed the case. Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Avodah Zarah 9:13 states:
 המוכר ביתו לעבודה זרה דמיו אסורין בהנייה ויוליך אותם לים המלח
As Kesef Mishneh and others point out, the origin of this halakhah is Gittin 44a. Yet the authentic reading there is המוכר ביתו לגוי (the Vilna Talmud has לעובד כוכבים). As Dikdukei Soferim ha-Shalem (Jerusalem, 2001), ad loc., informs us, לגוי is the reading in all surviving manuscripts and early printings. Meiri, ad loc., explains the halakhah as follows:
שהמוכר בית לגוי בארץ ישראל ר”ל לאחד מעובדי האלילים דמיו אסורים מתורת קנס על שנתן לעובדי האלילים חנייה בקרקע
Since Maimonides had the reading לעבודה זרה, R. Zini concludes that the talmudic manuscript he used had been altered. This is much more compelling than the explanation offered by Kesef Mishneh and Lehem Mishneh that Maimonides interpreted לגוי to mean לעבודה זרה.
Yet there is no doubt that R. Zini is incorrect. As has been pointed out by many, one who examines Tosefta, Avodah Zarah 7:2, will see that this, and not Gittin 44a, is the source for Maimonides, and Kesef Mishneh and Lehem Mishneh were simply unaware of this source. It is significant that לעבודה זרה appears even in manuscripts of the Tosefta. 

Regarding Tosefta, Avodah Zarah 7:2 and Gittin 44a, I assume that only one of the versions preserves the authentic text, but I don’t think we can determine which one it is. The only thing that remains to be explained is why Maimonides did not codify the halakhah in Gittin 44a. (It could be that his version of Gittin 44a was indeed the same as that which appears in the Tosefta, but this has nothing to do with censorship.)

[3] Kesef Mishneh, Hilkhot Melakhim 10:9, cites Rashi. You can see the uncensored text of Kesef Mishneh in the Frankel edition. The version of Kesef Mishneh that appears in older editions of the Mishneh Torah is a censored text, and instead of recording Rashi’s statement about Sunday, the following appears: או בע”ש ששובתים בו הישמעלים. For printers in the Christian world there was no problem speaking about Muslim beliefs and practices, so in this case the original statement, made with reference to Christians, was substituted with one referring to Muslims. The printers who made this “correction” had the same misconception as many today, namely, that Friday is a day of rest for Muslims. It is not. Friday is a day of gathering for prayer, but Muslims do not have a sabbath, i.e., a day of rest.
[4] Interestingly, I found an anonymous medieval Italian text that records a “minhag tov” not to eat meat on Sunday. One reason offered is kevod Shabbat, namely, by having meat so soon after Shabbat one lessens the special nature of this day in which meat is the main dish. (Obviously, meat was not regarded as an everyday meal in this author’s time and place.) The second reason is מפני קלון הנוצרים. What this means is that since Sunday is the Christians’ holy day, Jews should avoid eating a special food like meat on that day. See Minhag Tov, ed. Weiss (Budapest, 1929), p. 230, no. 47.
[5] See Reuven Kimelman, “Birkat ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity,” in E. P. Sanders, et al., eds., Jewish and Christian Self-Definition (Philadelphia, 1981), vol. 2, p. 242.
[6] Christianity in Talmud and Midrash (London, 1903), p. 172. His first name “Robert” never appears in his works, as he went by “R. Travers Herford”. I supplied the first name in full as I did not want people to assume that we are dealing with “Rabbi Travers Herford”. Herford wrote a number of works about the Pharisees. His positive portrayal of them was in opposition to the standard Christian view. This highly impressed R. Zvi Yehudah Kook, who suggested translating Herford’s works into Hebrew. See his letter here where he writes:
חשבתי אז להעירו ע”ד ספריו החשובים של החכם האנגלי הרפורד, – היודע ואוהב את היהדות באופן נפלא, –  ע”ד תורת היהדות הפרושית וערכה העולמי, כהמשכה האמיתי של הנבואה בחיוניותה הנמשכת עד היום. כדאי וחשוב מאד היה לתרגמם לעברית, בשביל הנוער שלנו המתחשב מאד עם דבריו של גוי, וביחוד לעומת הרבוי של תרגומי דברי תפלות, שזכו ומזכים בהם את ספרותנו החדשה. אולי יואיל כ’ לזכות במצוה זו בהתמחות זריזותו ושקידתו
Herford’s commentary on Pirkei Avot is full of interesting points. To give one example, he argues that the proper vocalization of אמרו  in Avot 1:5: באשתו אמרו קל וחומר באשת חבירו, is amaro, not amru. (R. Mazuz told me that this is definitely incorrect.)
[7] See Dikdukei Soferim ha-Shalem, ad loc., Saul Lieberman, Tosefta ki-Feshutah, Ketubot, p. 365.
[8] See R. Yonatan Binyamin Buchinger in Or Yisrael 46 (Tevet 5767), pp. 237ff., ibid. 48 (Tamuz 5767), pp. 240-241, ibid. 51 (Adar Sheni 5768), p. 246. The authentic text of the Rif, which reads ערב הפסח, is found in the Constantinople 1509 edition. See Hilkhot Rav Alfas, ed. Zaks (Jerusalem, 1969), vol. 2, p. 128.
[9] See Ariel Toaff, Blood Passover (available online) ch. 8 n. 8. (Unfortunately, this book continues to give ammunition to anti-Semites.)
[10] See F. H. Wettstein, Halifat Mikhtavim (Cracow, 1900), p. 97; R. Dovid Cohen, He-Akov le-Mishor (Brooklyn, 1993), to Ketubot 102b (p. 106); Soncino’s note, Ketubot 102b.
[11] Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah (New York, 1967).
[12] Introduction to his edition of Rashbam on the Pentateuch, p. xix. See also Reuven Elitzur, Degel Mahaneh Reuven (n.p., n.d.), pp. 365ff. Not knowing who Satanow was, R. Yisrael Yaakov Fisher of the Edah Haredit refers to him as ר’ יצחק מסטנוב ז”ל. See Even Yisrael, vol. 8, no. 9. I found the same lack of awareness in R. Aryeh Leib Neimark, Even Yaakov (Slutzk, 1910), p. 57b: יפה פירש החכם מהר”י סאטנאב
[13] Sefer Maharil, ed. Spitzer (Jerusalem, 1989), Likutim, no. 70 (p. 629).
[14] Beit ha-Otzar, vol. 1, kelal 190 (p. 118b).
[15] Peleitat Soferim 1 (2012), p. 87 n. 7.
[16] Shoshanat ha-Amakim (Jerusalem, 2008), p. 257.