Further On A Forged Letter of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik

By Mosheh Lichtenstein

Rabbi Mosheh Lichtenstein is a co-Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Har Etzion.

He is a grandson of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik.

It was recently brought to my attention that various readers of the Seforim Blog have expressed skepticism regarding the determination that the letter found in President Chaim Herzog’s archives and supposedly written by my grandfather, Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik zt”l (hereafter, “the Rav”), is a forgery.

Moreover, some of the commentators have engaged in various conspiracy theories regarding the motivation and the accuracy of the claim that this is a fake letter. See here. Although I do not usually attempt to argue with such claims or engage conspiracy theorists and strongly suspect that penning this response will not necessarily convince those who refused to accept the original clarification, I will, nevertheless, attempt to present the evidence that the letter is indeed a forgery since I fear that future researchers may also question the denial and view the letter’s status as an unresolved issue.

Moreover, since there may be sincere individuals who are indeed skeptical of a forgery claim regarding a letter whose subject is a controversial figure and may suspect that there is an agenda behind the denial of the letter’s legitimacy, I am presenting the evidence for their review and evaluation. Thus, if those who expressed skepticism are indeed sincere and open to evaluating the evidence, it is my hope that they will review the evidence presented below and recognize that the letter is fraudulent.

At the outset, I must re-emphasize what was clearly stated by the editors of the Seforim Blog (here); i.e. that the determination of our family members who saw this letter and judged it to be a “crude forgery” was entirely based upon an examination of the signature, stationery and other such considerations and totally independent of any opinion, positive or negative, regarding the subject of the letter. Having stated for the record what should be obvious, I will now present the considerations themselves.

1. First, and this alone should suffice, is the error in the spelling of the name. The Rav spelled his name דוב with a vav in the middle and not דב without a vav. I have never seen a signature of the Rav without the vav and I challenge all of those who doubted our claim to produce a signature of the Rav, in his handwriting, without a vav. As there are a multitude of “semikhah klafim” signed by the Rav, as well as numerous letters that he wrote, I assume that this can be readily verified. I would add that, unlike dates or plain text, it is rare indeed that people make typos in their signature.

2. The Rav’s signature in the letter contains an additional conclusive indication that the Rav didn’t write it which is the mention of his father and his title. The Rav would use the title אבא מרי when referring to his father in his halakhic writings and famously utilized it in the title of a major work, Shiurim le-Zekher Abba Mari (Jerusalem: Mosad ha-Rav Kook, 1984). However, he never used it when referring to his father, Reb Moshe Soloveichik, in his signature. Usually, the Rav signed his name without mentioning his father but if he did mention him, he always used the Brisker title of הגאון החסיד or variations of it and never אבא מרי. Thus, he might sign בן הגאון החסיד or בהגאון מהר”מ – see Iggerot ha-Grid pp. 139-140 for two such examples – but not אבא מרי as in the letter under discussion.

The vast majority of the letters that I have had occasion to see, as well as those published in *Community, Covenant And Commitment: Selected Letters And Communications*, ed. Nathaniel Helfgot (Jersey City, NJ: Ktav, 2005), and originally written in Hebrew, contain the Rav’s name alone without any reference to his father whatsoever. Moreover, my impression is that the younger the Rav was and the more “rabbinic” and traditional or ceremonial the context (such as HaPardes), he might refer to his father, while in more political or non-rabbinic settings and the older he gets, he rarely signs as his father’s son. This is doubly true of the years when he had physical trouble writing (for examples of 2 late letters in very rabbinic settings in which his father is not referenced in his signature, see the letter published in the beginning of the first volume of the first edition of the Shiurim le-Zekher Abba Mari and/or the letter written to Rabbi Shemariah Gourary in October 1978 and published in a Chabad journal upon his petirah in 1993).

The bottom line is that the vast majority of all his letters don’t mention his father and this is esp. true in the later years. Thus, the very reference to his father in a very late letter to a secular political figure like Chaim Herzog might already raise suspicions about this letter, but the crucial point is that even when mentioning Rabbi Moshe Soloveichik, he is never referred to as אבא מרי. Presumably, the person who wrote this letter was aware of the Abba Mari title because of the book (which had just been published a year earlier), but unfamiliar with the Rav’s normal signature mode and thus blundered into applying the wrong title to Rabbi Moshe Soloveichik.

In an aside, I’ll also mention that the person who wrote this letter was not only woefully unequipped with knowledge of the Rav’s signature, he also didn’t know how to spell אבא מרי properly. Unlike the Rav, who was aware of the phrase’s origin in the Shas (Kiddushin 31b and Sanhedrin 5a) and its usage by the Rambam in Mishneh Torah (Hilkhot Talmud Torah 4:3 and Hilkhot Shehitah 11:10) to refer to his father and, of course, spells it properly, the writer of this letter can’t even spell the title that he chose properly (although I can’t rule out the possibility of a typo, I cannot but have the impression that this is yet another instance of the work of someone who simply doesn’t know what he’s doing).

3. The letter includes the title איש בוסטון together with the signature. I’d love to see another letter of the Rav in which he signed himself as איש בוסטון. Until such a letter is produced, I regard this as an additional example of the fraudulent nature of this letter since the Rav didn’t use such a title to identify himself. He was not Paul Revere and apparently did not consider איש בוסטון to be a defining characteristic.

4. A crucial element in assessing a signature’s authenticity a graphological examination. In our case, the signature of the Rav in the Herzog letter simply fails the most basic graphological test. Since a graphological analysis is by definition subjective, I preferred to present the verifiable objective evidence regarding the Rav’s signature prior to raising this point. I also feel obligated to preface my claim with two preliminary comments about the legitimacy of handwriting comparisons:

a. Halakhah and the American banking system that has utilized handwritten checks for decades as a prime form of payment rely upon comparison and recognition of an individual’s signature. The concept of kiyum shtarot, a major legal mechanism in Halakhah which is crucial to all legal documents, is predicated upon comparing signatures.

b. The Rav’s signature is quite distinctive and remained consistent throughout the years. A clear line runs between all his signatures, from youth to old age. In his later years, the signature is more frail and less forceful than his earlier signatures, but the basic form is constant and readily recognizable. The signature that appears in the Herzog letter is so starkly different from his recognized signature that this is a plain case of black and white and not a grey area. Had it been a grey area which required a judgement call, I would never make such a subjective claim, but the contrast here is so great that it does not require a judgement call. To utilize a Talmudic concept from a somewhat different case of graphological assessment, an average ינוקא דלא חכים ולא טפש could easily make this call.

To back up this claim, I suggest that the interested reader see for himself examples of the Rav’s signature in these years. An example from June 1983 is the letter printed in the first volume of Shiurim le-Zekher Abba Mari (first edition).

A later example, and even more relevant example, from Winter 1984 (probably January-February 1984) is this (from a dedication he inscribed to me in the Shiurim le-Zekher Abba Mari that he sent me):

One can notice 2 things in this signature: 1. Its basic consistency with his younger signatures 2. the frailty of his writing. The signature in the letter to President Herzog, in contrast, is inconsistent with all of the Rav’s signatures and does not express the frailty of his aging motoric skills, despite supposedly being written months later.

For a somewhat earlier, albeit still late, example, one can see the signature in the haskamah published by Rabbi Menachem Genack in his sefer ברכת יצחק, written in Jan. 1979.

In summary, the signature itself in the document under question is so full of errors that if it were a get, you could say that it contains almost all possible פסולים as it includes א. שינה שמו ב. ושם אביו ג. ושם עירו ד. ואינו מקויים .

From the signature, let us turn our attention to the stationery. Anyone who has seen letters of the Rav knows that the letterhead is always the Rav’s name and usually, but not always, his address as well. He does not use Yeshiva University stationery nor RIETS stationery. I have never seen a letter written by the Rav on a YU letterhead. He was not the Rosh Yeshiva of RIETS or president of YU – he was Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, the Rav, and his stationery reflects this.

It must also be emphasized that this particular letter is purported to have been written in Boston where the chance that the Rav used YU stationaey is nil. I was with the Rav in Boston during the summer of 1984 and I can attest to the fact that he did not have YU stationery in his study that summer (nor at any other time that I was in Boston).

Thus, it seems fairly obvious to assume, although I cannot verify this, that ‘the writer of this letter’ had access to YU stationery which is dispensed to hundreds of locations but not to the Rav’s private stationery and, therefore, chose to present the Rav as writing on YU stationery, unaware that by doing so ‘he’ is undermining rather than bolstering the credibility of his forgery.

Actually, what ‘the writer of this letter’ is doing is even more bumbling since ‘he’ is not using proper YU letterhead stationery either; if one looks carefully at the letter that was reproduced at the Seforim Blog, it can be noticed that it is written on paper designed for internal correspondence as a memo and is not formal institutional stationery of the sort that is appropriate to use in correspondence with a head of state.

Another suspicious element is the copies of the letter that supposedly were sent to Rabbi Norman Lamm, Dr. Burg and Rabbi Michael Strick. Aside from the fact that to the best of my knowledge, it was not the Rav’s custom to copy others on his letters and this alone is room for additional suspicion, it is unfathomable to think that he would have Rabbi Strick’s name as one of those copied to his letter. Was the Rav even aware that Rabbi Strick worked in YU’s Israel office? Even if so, why would he copy him on a letter to Herzog which does not deal with YU affairs? For that matter, why would he copy Rabbi Lamm?

Since the Rav did not ‘CC’ people and was unaware of Rabbi Strick’s position, this, too, is an additional reason that at least parts of this letter must be considered inauthentic and the work of others. [If one were to argue that this anomaly is reason to support the letter’s authenticity as a lectio difficilior, I would counter that such an argument would be reasonable, if it could be established that the Rav was aware of Rabbi Strick’s role in YU Israel, but since this is definitely not the case, he couldn’t have copied on a letter someone who he was unaware of his position. Thus it is not a more difficult reading, but rather an impossible one and, therefore, proves its inauthenticity rather than its authenticity.]

Next, let us turn our gaze to the top of the page and the salutation of בעזרת צור ישראל וגואלו. Once more, I challenge anybody to produce a letter or document in which the Rav used such a phrase to refer to the KBH in a similar context (or any context, for that matter).

Although one could conceivably argue that he did not normally do so but changed his custom when writing to the president of Medinat Yisrael, I would not accept such a line of reasoning because of the reasons outlined below, but I would also emphasize that the Rav’s letter to Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion does not contain such a phrase nor do any of his other letters to various Israeli Religious Zionist leaders. All of these letters were published in *Community, Covenant And Commitment: Selected Letters And Communications* and are readily available for examination. If one were to argue more ingeniously that he used the phrase only in a letter to Chaim Herzog because of his father, Rav Yitzhak Isaac ha-Levi Herzog’s involvement in the formulation of Tefillah Leshalom Hamedinah, he would have not only to claim that the Rav was attempting to compliment Herzog but also to establish that the Rav was aware of Rav Herzog’s role in the formulation of that text. Personally, I am quite skeptical of this for a variety of reasons, but I will not insist upon it in this discussion.

The crucial point regarding the use of צור ישראל וגואלו is that the Rav would never use such a phrase. Without entering into a protracted discussion of the Rav’s attitude to Zionism in general, a topic that much has been written upon, I will allow myself to state that while undoubtedly supportive of Religious Zionism, he was deeply opposed to three elements of Israeli Religious Zionism that he encountered in his contacts with the Israeli Religious Zionist sector. The first was the ideological position that Jewish Nationalism and its political expression are of the highest religious value. The second, not entirely unrelated to the first, was the perspective that viewed the establishment of the State of Israel and its subsequent achievements as highly significant stages in the Redemption. Regarding those who held to a position that he described as the attachment of “excessive value to the point of its glorification and deification” [of the State of Israel] (*Community, Covenant And Commitment: Selected Letters And Communications*, page 164), he defined them as delusional (the original Hebrew uses the phrase “הוזים” which is translated in the published text as “dreamers,” but which actually has a much stronger connation of delusion within it) and in total error. He was also very distant from a historical appraisal that saw the Geulah as imminent. As anyone who has read *Kol Dodi Dofek* or *Hamesh Derashot* is well aware, the Rav emphasizes the Man-God relationship in the context of Zionist history rather than the imminent realization of the promised Redemption.

An additional element that the Rav strenuously objected to was various expressions and formulas in liturgical or halakhic settings that were disconnected from traditional forms of expression and exuded a strong sense of a break with the past and the creation of a new religious language. I would not overstate the case if I stated that such expressions actually caused him to cringe. He certainly was emotionally distant from such phrases and did not use them. A famous example of this was his insistence upon the term “Eretz Yisroel” rather than “Israel,” but there were many such examples, some better known (e.g. translating the text of the ketuba into Hebrew), some not so well known. Even wearing a white shirt on Shabbos (“Israeli style”), rather than a suit, would sometimes annoy him if he sensed that it was an expression of non-traditionalism and “anti-Galut” sentiment. I can attest to this first hand כי מבשרי אחזה זאת. I spent time with my grandfather, the Rav, as a wide-eyed 17 year old youth who often expressed his Zionist sentiments in front of him and occasionally raised his ire by doing so. Once, discussing a related topic, he admitted to me that reciting a certain text was rationally the proper thing to do, but, nevertheless, expressed a personal emotional reluctance to do so because of its novelty and lack of traditional moorings.

Therefore, although this is admittedly a subjective criterion that I am attempting to avoid, I cannot believe that any letter that the Rav wrote or authorized – even to a head of state whose father was Rav Herzog – would contain the phrase בעזרת צור ישראל וגואלו.

Finally, I must point out an issue of content regarding the letter. As I stated at the outset, I am not judging the letter based upon any presumed attitude of the Rav regarding Rabbi Meir Kahane. However, the content of the letter is extremely problematic for totally other reasons. As can be seen, the letter concludes with a clear admonition and rebuke to President Herzog in no uncertain terms regarding his level of observance. Not only does the writer allow himself to criticize Herzog’s standards of public observance, an obviously sensitive topic for someone raised as an observant Jew, he also doesn’t shy away from introducing the extremely sensitive and intensely personal issue of Herzog’s relationships with his parents and children in light of his problematic observance of Mizvoth.

I will allow myself to state that the Rav that I knew, and I assume many of the Seforim Blog’s readers as well, would never enter into such personal matters and grant unsolicited advice and judgement upon his correspondent’s personal life and relationships. For that matter, I cannot imagine that any rational individual who is requesting a favor from a person of stature would conclude his message by rebuking the person and making it clear that he is a disappointment to his parents. Why the writer of this letter thought that this is a reasonable text is beyond me, but if he chose to concoct such a text, I do claim that the Rav would not, and could not, have written such a text. While this is admittedly subjective and, therefore, I do not rest my case upon it but rely upon the above-mentioned considerations, I do believe that the Seforim Blog’s readers should be alerted to this perspective as well.

I will not continue to discuss this letter, although much more could be said about it. In conclusion, I will add that I believe that many of the points that I raised above suffice to individually prove that this letter is utterly false; however, it is also important to emphasize that there is a significance to their cumulative effect. Thus, even if one can argue or suggest alternatives to a particular claim, the accumulation of so many suspicious characteristics is an additional consideration to recognize that the text is much too problematic to be trusted or relied upon.

Ironically, whoever thought to send this letter to President Herzog and to appeal to his zekhut avot as part of a letter requesting support for Rabbi Kahane was probably barking up the wrong tree by doing so. Rav Yitzchak Isaac ha-Levi Herzog, whose authority is celebrated in the letter, had the following to say about the issue of retribution and Jewish-Arab relationships in times of terror attacks, published on the front page of the newspaper Davar, Friday, July 8, 1938, and translated into English several months later in Contemporary Jewish Record 1:1 (September 1938):

Why did someone want to counterfeit a letter in the Rav’s name is a question that may be unanswerable, even if we were to identify the person who wrote the letter. It is certainly unanswerable without identifying the writer. It should be recognized, though, that the primary motivation may not have been a political agenda to validate Rabbi Kahane, although it is obvious that the writer’s opinion of him is somewhat favorable and that he is attempting to advance the Kach party’s agenda, but may be rooted in other realms. For instance, the writer may have had a psychological need to empower himself to speak as the Rav, for a variety of reasons, and realized this by counterfeiting a letter in the Rav’s name and sending it to a prominent and famous person.

Whatever the motivation may be – political or psychological – we must recognize that this is a letter that that was not signed or authorized by the Rav and that is what matters.

April Fools! Tracing the History of Dreidel Among Neo-Traditionalists and Neo-Hebraists

These explanations [for playing with the sevivon] are far from reality. Why do no sources dating from the Maccabean period, and only in the last few hundred years, mention playing sevivon? If “Hakhamim” decreed it, or it was the custom in ancient times, of if “Beis Din shel Hashmonaim” established it, why is it not mentioned for all these generations?

Yitzhak Tesler, “Ha-Dreidel (Sevivon) be-Chanukah: Mekoroseha, Ta’amyah, u-Minhagyah,” Or Yisrael, 14 (1999), 50.

I have seen a toy in London called a Teetotum. It is exactly like a Hanucah Trendel with English letters instead of Hebrew on it. But why it is called by its peculiar name, no one can tell me. Of course, the name comes from the letter T, which is inscribed on one of the four sides of the toy; thus T Totum or T takes all. This reminds me of the noted Latin epigram addressed by the boy to the twirling Teetotum Te, totum, amo, amo, te, Teetotum.

Leopold Dukes to Leopold Löw, September 1864.

Only two mitzvot of Chanukah are mentioned in Rabbinic sources: lighting candles and reciting the full Hallel. Over the centuries, many other practices came to be associated with Chanukah. Some are unique to specific geographic regions, while others saw universal adoption. One that is lesser-known today is the custom of Venetian Jews to travel on gondolas, rowing through the city, and greeting each house with a blessing and “a merry Hebrew” carol. Or the custom in Avignon, France, recorded in 1779, that women were permitted in the men’s section of the synagogue during the eight days of Chanukah.[1] Many Jews accept these as the evolution of Jewish practice without requiring any sacred reasons; others are unwilling to do so. These neo-traditionalists locate the practices within the rubric of Jewish ritual and even claim historical legitimacy when there is none. The dreidel is an example of this phenomenon.

The dreidel toy is not Jewish in origin. Instead, dreidel is the ancient game of teetotum that remained popular until at least the twentieth century. Teetotum, at its most basic, is a four-sided dice with a stick in the middle. While some versions use dots or numbers to denote players’ actions, letters are the most commonplace. The letters vary based upon the vernacular, with the name teetotum from the Latin version of T (totum-all), and the remaining letter instructions, A (aufer-take), N (nihil-nothing), D (depone-put down). Even the Hebrew letters are merely a transliteration of the German version: G (ganz-all), H (halb-half), N (nischt-nothing), and S (schict-put).

Figure 1 Detail: Pieter Bruegel, Children’s Games, Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna

Teetotum is documented in Vienna’s Kunsthistorisches Museum displays Pieter Bruegel the Elder’s (1525/30-1569) masterpiece, “Children’s Games” (1560). Another of his works in the museum is the “Tower of Babel,” which is the subject of a forthcoming post. Children’s Games depicts over two hundred children playing eighty different games. Bruegel’s encyclopedic pictorial catalog of games is unique in the annals of art. A small child is at the bottom left corner, her arms raised, holding a teetotum. (See here for a detailed view and here for Amy Orrock’s excellent article, “Homo ludens: Pieter Bruegel’s Children’s Games and the Humanist Educators,” discussing the purpose and interpretation of the painting within Erasmus’s views on the benefits of play.) Teetotum also appears in the list of games of Bruegel’s near contemporary French author François Rabelais’s (d. 1553) satirical work, Gargantua. The Oxford English Dictionary identifies it as “a favorite Victorian toy.” It appears in well-known English literature such as Lewis Carol’s Through the Looking Glass, where the White Queen (then a white sheep) asks Alice, “Are you a child, or a teetotum.” Other examples are Charles Dickens’ Our Mutual Friend, Edgar Allen Poe’s The System of Doctor Tarr and Professor Fether, and James Joyce’s Finnegans Wake as “finfoefom” (based on Joyce’s unique lettering system).[2]

Despite the widespread awareness of teetotum in Europe from at least the 1500s, the earliest Jewish sources connecting it with Chanukah date to the nineteenth century. Other Chanukah games boast much earlier recognition. For example, R Yosef Yuspa Nördlinger Hahn (1570-1637) mentions chess, tic-tac-toe, cards, and possibly backgammon.[3] Likewise, a 1638 herem banned cards and dice on Chanukah, although chess was excepted.[4] In subsequent Jewish literature, card playing has the most mentions, but that is due to their moral and ethical concerns rather than approval. None of these mention dreidel or any similar game.

The lack of historicity and mesorah was no barrier for 19^th-century rabbis, nearly all Hassdic, from asserting Jewish relevance and stating that it is among the customs that qualify as minhag Yisrael Torah. R. Tzvi Elimelech Spira of Dinov is perhaps the most well-known example. In his Bnei Yissaschar, he contrasts the operation of the dreidel with the other Jewish play toy, the Purim gragger. The dreidel is activated from the top, symbolic of the heavenly source of the Chanukah miracle. The gragger is turned from the bottom because the catalysts of the miracle were Mordechai and Ester.

Others explain the symbolism of the dreidel’s letters, נ, ג, ה, ש. According to one explanation, these allude to the two rabbinically sanctioned mitzvot that we have on Chanukah, נרות שמונה (candles all eight nights) and הלל גמר (the complete Hallel). Others note the gematria (numerical value) of the letters, which correspond to the same gematria as משיח (the Messiah). Others still link the letters with גשנה the city Yosef secured for his family in Egypt that appears in the weekly Torah reading that coincides with Chanukah.[5]

None of these, however, locate the dreidel within the Chanukah story, and for that, we need to wait until the early twentieth century. According to this modern origin story, after the Greeks prohibited Torah study, Jewish teachers and students continued to do so surreptitiously in caves. When the authorities discovered these groups, they quickly switched from studying to playing dreidel.

The first appearance of this account appears in a collection of customs published in 1917 in Saint Louis. R. Avraham Eliezer Hirshovitz (1859-1924), originally from Kovno (today Kaunas), Lithuania, and in 1908 emigrated to the United States and was the preacher of Shaary Torah and taught children in Pittsburg, PA.[6] In 1892, he published the first edition of his book on Jewish customs, Minhagei Yeshurun, in Vilna. It includes three haskamos (approbations). The only discussion regarding Chanukah is the source of the name. Seven years later, he published an expanded second edition in Vilna, with 280 customs and now eight additional approbations (he omitted one from the first edition), most notably one from R Yitzchak Elchanan Spektor. R Spektor caveats that he only had time to read a few lines but that “it is a nice work.” Another approbation is from the maskil, Kalman Schulman.[7] We are unaware of any other religious book that bears his approbation. Hirshovitz provides that he obtained “many other approbations and letters of support” that he did not include. Neither of these editions discusses dreidel.

In 1899, Hirshovitz published a further expanded version in Yiddish in Vilna. By then, he had emigrated to the United States. He discusses game playing on Chanukah for the first time, although only cards. He explains that some play cards as it is like war, evoking the military victory over the Greeks. Nonetheless, he disapproves of playing cards, noting that cards are non-Jewish (he does not mention any halakhic reasons or the numerous Jewish sources that explicitly prohibit cards and other forms of gambling on Chanukah).

Finally, in the first American edition, published in Saint Louis in 1918, now with approximately 500 customs, Hirshovitz addresses the custom of playing dreidel. He does not mention any of the Hassidic explanations. Instead, he tells the story of the dreidel and how it was used to hoodwink the Greeks.[8] Despite the complete lack of evidence and the absurdity of the Greeks falling for such a simplistic and completely unrealistic ruse, Hirshovitz’s narrative quickly entered the Jewish collective consciousness. For example, in the collection of customs, Pardes Eliezer devotes an entire chapter to dreidel and explains “that despite the fact dreidel doesn’t appear in the sifrei ha-achronim it does not prove it is a recent custom.” Rather, “kama hokerim” (many scholars) describe it as “an ancient custom, dating to the Hasmonic period,” and then uses Hirshovitz’s story. Or, in the book Minhag Yisrael Torah, Hirshovitz’s narrative is “the simple” explanation.[9] Today, if one does a cursory search on the internet, there are articles from the Aish.com website regarding dreidel entitled “A Serious Game,” or on Chabad.org that describes Hirshovitz’s rationale as “the Classic” and “common” reason, and many others.

Not all were so taken with Hirshovitz’s work. R Shmuel Kraus published a highly critical article in Kiryat Sefer in 1933 that highlights numerous methodological issues with Hirshovitz’s work.[10] While Kraus notes the book was sloppily published with omissions and other defects, he reserves the bulk of his article is devoted to Hirshovitz’s hallucinatory customs and corresponding sources. While the article does not discuss the dreidel, it criticizes Hirshovitz for identifying sources for the “custom” to trick people on April 1, the word “daven” that is identified as either Aramaic or from the English word Dawn and provides a reason why in Europe a Bar Mitzvah boys give a “derasha,” but in the United States a “speech.” Hirshovitz sometimes tries to adopt a more substantive and historically defensible explanation, even citing an article from JQR regarding the Magen David.[11]

While Hirshovitz’s explanation is unsupportable, one hypothesis is worth mentioning. Israel Abrams, in an article that initially appeared in The American Hebrew and republished in his collection Festival Studies, posits that Teetotum:

It is a very ancient game, known to the Greeks and Romans. But why was it specially favoured on Hanucah? No answer has ever been given to this natural question. It may be that the Teetotum was regarded as a very innocent form of gambling, if that be not altogether too harsh a word to use. Many pious people never played cards or any other game of chance, but they may have felt that so simple a game as this was lawful enough. But I can now supplement this with a new suggestion. Teetotum is still in parts of Ireland the indoor recreation of the peasantry at Christmas tide. Now it is well known that such games seldom change their seasons. I should wonder if the Teetotum was a favourite toy elsewhere at Christmas. If so, the Jews may have transferred it to Hanucah. For they never invented their own games, except those of intellectual species such as Hanucah Ketowes [riddles]. The Ketowes even gave rise to a folk proverb: “Zechus Owes, Kein Ketowes,” i.e., I suppose merit of the fathers is not the solution of life’s riddle. Indeed, the moral of Hanucah, is after all, that Judaism must rely on present effort of the children as well as on the past merits of their sires, if it is to remain in any true sense a “Feast of Light.”[12]

The Case of the Origin Story of the Creation of the Word Sevivon

Another mythical story associated with dreidel occurs with the origin of the modern Hebrew word for the toy, sevivon. The most well-known history is found in the autobiography of Eliezer Ben Yehuda’s son, Itamar ben Avi (1882-1943), Im Shahar Atzmotenu, published in 1961. Rochel Berlov, in her article “Me Hidush ha-milah ‘Sevivon’?”, however, demonstrated that the term long predated Itamar. (See also Ester Goldenberg’s article).  David Yeshayahu Silberbusch coined it and first appeared in Hayyim Zelig Slonimski’s journal Ha-Tzefirah on December 24, 1897 (See Zerachyah Lict’s comprehensive article regarding Slonimski’s challenge to the miracle of the oil and Marc Shapiro’s subsequent discussion). A week and a half later, Silberbusch used the word as the title of a satirical article, and it subsequently regularly appeared in the newspaper. In 1923, Levin Kipnis published his now famous song, sevivon, sov, sov, sov. Itamar wrote his autobiography when he was fifty, and it was published posthumously. He tells the story of how

one day, when he and his family were preparing to go on a trip outside the city, outside the wall, I suddenly jumped towards my parents: Mother! Mother! I found a sevivon for Chanukah. My mother hugged and kissed me with admiration. “How beautiful is the word you created, my son!” This is how the word sevivon was created and became standard for decades among all Jewish children. I, the writer of these memories and the one who created it when I was a child, among countless other words that are now incorporated into our language, but [not everyone] recognizes who created them.

Despite this story, the word does not appear in any newspapers his father, Eliezer Ben Yehudah, edited. Moreover, Ben Yehudah did not include it in his monumental dictionary of modern Hebrew. Nonetheless, Itamar’s story was retold countless times in children’s books and treatments of Itamar (and some still think the issue remains unsettled). Zohar Shavit’s assessment of Itamar’s book, which can be equally applied to Hirshovitz’s dreidel origin story, aptly sums up the willingness to accept such tall tales:

Above all, he understood the importance of creating an interesting and fascinating story, apparently even at the expense of historical credibility… It is quite clear that in some of his personal stories, Ben-Avi prefers the interesting story over fidelity to the facts.

Notes:

[1] Recorded in Israel Abrahams, “Hanucah in Olden Times,” in Festival Studies Being Thoughts on the Jewish Year (Philadelphia, 1906), 146, 152.

[2] Joseph Shipley, The Origins of English Words: A Discursive Dictionary of Indo-European Roots (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 411; John P. Anderson, Joyce’s Finnegans Wake: The Curse of Kabbalah (Universal Publishers, 2008), 211-12.

[3] Yosef Kosman, Noheg ka-Tzon Yosef, (Tel Aviv, 1979), 188 n.12; Herman Pollack, Jewish Folkways in Germanic Lands (1648-1806): Studies in Aspects of Daily Life (MIT Press, 1971) 181, 330n184.

[4] Minhagei DK”K Vermisia, Yitzhak Zimmer, ed., vol. 1 (Mefal Toras Hakhmei Ashkenaz, 1988), 238-39.

[5] See R. Yitzhak Tesler, “Ha-Dreidel (Sevivon) be-Chanukah: Mekoroseha, Ta’amyah, u-Minhagyah,” Or Yisrael, 14 (1999), 50-60 (collecting these and other sources).

[6] For biographical and complete bibliographical information, including a discussion of variant versions, see Yosef Goldman, Hebrew Printing in America 1735-1926: A History and Annotated Bibliography (Brooklyn, 2006) n583&622 (see here and here for our review of this work).

[7] For biographical information, see Hillel Noah Steinschneider, Ir Vilna, vol. 2, Mordechai Zalkin, ed. (Hebrew University Magnes Press, Jerusalem, 2002), 182-83.

[8] Avraham Hirshovitz, Otzar Kol Minhagei Yeshurun (St. Louis, 1918), 57. Hirshovitz cites “HaRav Ziv” as his source. But otherwise, it provides no information regarding this person. Two authors from that period use “Ziv,” Yehoshua ben Aba Ziv, who wrote a book of songs and a fictional work in Yiddish on the life of a Yeshiva student. The book of songs, Asifas Shirim: Al Mo’adei ha-Shana (Vilna, 1875), 13-15, includes a song for Chanukah but does not mention dreidel. The other possibility is Nehemiah Shmuel Libowitz, who used the pseudonym “Ziv.” Libowitz was a contemporary of Hirshovitz in America, and although we have not discovered any evidence, it’s possible they met in the United States. That may account for Hirshovitz’s inclusion of the dreidel story in his U.S. edition. Nonetheless, none of Libovitz’s published works include Hirshovitz’s Dreidel story, which includes the book Herod and Agrippa, which touches upon the Hashmonim.

[9] Kollel Damesek Eliezer, Pardes Eliezer, Hanukah, vol. 2 (Machon Damesek Eliezer, Brooklyn, 2004), 650-51; Yosef Lewy, Minhag Yisrael Torah, vol. 3 (Brooklyn, 1997), 216. Gavriel Zinner  however, in his extensive discussion of Chanukah customs and dreidel in his Neta Gavriel, does not mention Hirshovitz’s reason.

[10] Shmuel Kraus, “A.Y. Hirshovitz, Otzar kol Minhagei Yeshurun,” in Kiryat Sefer 11,3 (1934), 311-12.

[11] See Hirshovitz, Otzar Kol Minhagei Yeshurun, 4 (April fools), 28 (speech versus derasha), 88 (JQR).

[12] Abrahams, “Hanucah,” 154-55.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Andreas Vesalius
De Humani Corporis Fabrica (1543)

Library of the University of Padua

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

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

Hebrew Anatomical Terms

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

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

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

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

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

Vesalius and the Jewish Medical Students of Padua

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ramḥal and the University of Padua

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

Matriculation Records of 1723

Moise Vita Luzzato di Giacob ebreo

Matriculation Records of 1725

Moise Vita Luzato di Giacob ebreo

Matriculation Records of 1726

Moise Vita Luzato di Giac ebreo

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

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

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

Valle is buried in the Jewish cemetery of Padua.

The Diploma Medallion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IV. Benvenisti Collection of Portraits of Physicians

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

1) Sabbato Vita Marini (1662-1748)

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

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

2) Samuele Medoro (1788-1854)

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

Conclusion

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

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

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

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

Seforim/Books related to the Graduates

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

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

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

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

• Paḥad Yitzḥak, the first halakhic encyclopedia, by Isaac Lampronti (Padua- 1696).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Congratulatory Poems for the Jewish Medical Graduates of Padua

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

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

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

1) David Loria

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

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

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

2) Salomon Lampronti[83]

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

3) Menahem Navarra[87]

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Few Comments Regarding The First Woodcut Border Accompanying The Prague 1526 Haggadah

The Prague 1526 edition of the Haggadah is one of the most important illustrated haggadot ever published.  It is perhaps the earliest printed illustrated haggadah for a Jewish audience and served as a model for many subsequent illustrated haggadot.[1] The earliest printed haggadah with illustration was published in 1512 in Latin and for a non-Jewish audience. That haggadah contains six woodcuts, and was intended as a response to the infamous anti-Semite Pfefferkorn’s screeds against Judaism.[2]The woodcut accompanying the first page shows three Jews around the seder who have four cups in front of them.  Although the Talmud explicitly states that one is not required to have four distinct cups of wine, presumably the image is a crude method of indicating the four-fold nature of the wine during the seder rather than prescribing custom.

The Prague 1526 edition was published by Gershom and his brother Gronom Katz on Sunday, 26th of Tevet 5287 or December 30, 1526.[3] This detailed publication information does not appear on the title page, rather it appears at the end of the book and is  referred to as a colophon.  The colophon is a manuscript convention that was incorporated into earlier printed books. The Prague 1526 edition does not have a title page at all.  At that time, the usage of the title page was only in its early stages.[4]

1.          The Earliest Hebrew Title Pages

As with non-Hebrew titles, the title page developed over time, both in terms of content as well as usage.[5]   The first Hebrew title page is that of the Sefer Rokeah published in Fano in 1505.[6] But that title page is really one of the more basic forms of the title page, known as a “label title page” providing only the title and author and no other ornamentation or information.[7] In that same year, an edition of Abarbanel’s Zevah Pesach was published in Constantinople.  This edition was the first to contain a border with the title and author, but no place or date of publication.[8] The first Hebrew book containing all the elements of a traditional title page, border, title, author, place and date is likely the 1511 Pesaro edition of the Talmud published by Soncino.[9]

Traditionally, the Hebrew title page is referred to as a “sha’ar” or gate.  The theory behind this description is that many title page borders are comprised of “gates,” the most common are the pillars that adorn many Hebrew books and are assumed to be those at Saint Peter’s Basillica in Rome.  Their inclusion in Hebrew books is perhaps linked to the (discredited) notion that the Catholic Church maintains certain portions of the Jewish Temple, and these pillars were actually in the Temple.  The first Hebrew book to use an architectural border is Daniel Bomberg’s edition of the Jerusalem Talmud published in 1522.[10]

1. Illustrations in Hebrew Books

Returning to the Prague 1526 haggadah, as mentioned previously, this edition was copiously illustrated, including the first page of the book. This is not the first example of Hebrew printed illustrations.  The earliest illustration to appear in a Hebrew book is that of a lulav and a handful of other explanatory images accompanying the Rome edition of the Sefer Mitzvot Gedolot dated to before 1480.[11]

The first fully illustrated Hebrew book was published in the incunabula period as well, it is Isaac ben Solomon Ibn Sahula’s Meshal ha-Qadmoni, printed in Italy, circa 1491, by Gershom Soncino.[12]

The border surrounding the first page of the Prague 1526 incorporates both Jewish as well as non-Jewish elements.  First, it is obvious that a Jew had a hand in the border as, in the inset, it displays someone performing bedikat hametz (searching for the bread) where he is using the traditional implements of a candle and chicken feather.  The outside border is less Jewish, and as many have noted, appears to be a copy of Italian/German renaissance borders.  The two most likely candidates for models for Prague are the border first used in the 1518 edition of Sacri Doctoris by Raymond Lulli (available here) or a border first used in 1519 for Paolo Ricci’s, Lepida et litere in Augsburg and reused in an Augsburg 1522 edition of Erasmus, Ad reverendum (available here).  Although we cannot pinpoint exactly which of these, if any, served as a model, what is clear is that among the images included in this border are bare-breasted women.

The use of bare breasted women to illustrate the haggadah is not limited to Prague. Both Charles Wengrov and Elliot Horowitz have pointed to earlier manuscript antecedents for Prague’s usage of such illustrations.[13] Aside from the printed example of the Prague 1526 Haggadah, this convention continued in manuscripts as well illuminated after 1526.  There are at least four such 16th century examples.[14] Additionally, and contrary to Horwitz’s contention that Spanish Jews were less accepting of such displays,[15] the Sarajevo Haggadah, which originated in Spain around 1350, includes two panels of Adam and Eve both depicting a bare-breasted Eve.

Likewise, the Golden Haggadah, 1320 Spanish manuscript includes the same form of illustration of the Adam and Eve scene.  Additionally, the Golden Haggadah includes images of nude bathers when it depicts Miriam standing from afar to see what will become of baby Moses.[16]

III.            Censorship in Modern Reprints of Prague 1526

            These historical antecedents notwithstanding, recent reprints of Prague 1526 have not been as accepting.  This initial border has been altered to airbrush and removes the bare breasts.  In 1989, a facsimile edition of Prague 1526 was published with the commentary of the Prague rabbi, Rabbi Yehuda Loew (Maharal). This border has been “touched up.”

Similarly, in 1998, a colorized facsimile edition of Prague 1526 was published.  Although the publishers took great pains to provide color where before there was black and white, they also altered this border.

Oddly enough, although they found this image offensive, they decided to reproduce it in two other places in this reprint even though this image only appears once in the original. Here is the original:

Not only is the first border altered, but other instances of bare breasts have been removed; most notably the image accompanying the verse from Ezekiel 16:7 “I made you grow like a plant of the field. You grew up and developed and became the most beautiful of jewels. Your breasts were formed and your hair grew, you who were naked and bare.”

(As discussed previously here a later, Venice 1609, edition also altered this page.)  Again in 2001, a facsimile of Prague 1526 “published by the Religious Council of Efrat in honor of the settlement’s twentieth anniversary . . . . two illustrations are surreptitiously deleted: the bare breasted woman” accompanying the verse from Ezekiel.[17] Most recently, in 2009, the airbrushed image of this woman was reproduced in The Schechter Haggadah: art, history; commentary.[18]

[1] There may be an earlier illustrated print haggadah, however, only 12 leaves of this haggadah are extant making it difficult to date (or identify the country of origin).  For a bibliography regarding this fragment haggadah see Y. Yudlov, Otzar haHaggadot, Magnes Press, Jerusalem:1997, entry 9; and most recently, Eva Frojmovic, “From Naples to Constantinople: The Aesop Workshop’s Woodcuts in the Oldest Illustration Printed Haggadah,” in The Library, Sixth Series, Vol. XVIII, No. 2, June:1996, pp. 87-109.

[2]  See R. Cohen, Jewish Icons: Art & Society in Modern Europe, University of California Press, CA:1998, pp. 21-22; see also Y.H. Yerushalmi, Haggadah; History: A Panorama in Facsimile, Philidelphia:1978, plates 6-8.

[3] Aside from the edition discussed herein, there is at least one copy of another haggadah that is also published by Cohen in Prague that same year.  While both versions are substantially similar, some of the images and borders have been changed.  Relevant for our purposes, is that the image accompanying “Sefokh” which is a full
page border with images of bare breasted women, has been replaced with a more innocuous border found elsewhere in the haggadah.  See Yudlov, Otzar, entry 8; A. Ya’ari, Bibliography of the Passover Haggadah,
Bamberg & Wahrman, Jerusalem:1960, entry 7; Rabbi Charles Wengrov, Haggadah & Woodcut: an Introduction to the Passover Haggadah Completed by Gershom Cohen in Prague, Shulsinger Bros., New York:1967, pp. 78-9.

[4] The first Prague imprint to include a separate title page is in a 1526 edition of Yotzrot published by Cohen.  See Wengrov, Haggadah & Woodcut, p. 82 n.238.

[5] Although, with regard to the adoption of the title page, Jews appear to adopt this convention at or near the time as society at large, that was not the case with other literary advances.  While the majority of the western world adopted the codex and discarded the scroll some time in the third century, the first recorded Jewish reference to the codex does not occur until the late
eighth or the early ninth centuries.  See Anthony Grafton, “From Roll to Codex: A Christian Initiative,” in Crossing Borders, Hebrew Manuscripts as a Meeting-place of Cultures, ed. Piet van Boxel & Sabine Arndt, Bodleian Library:2012, pp. 15-20.

[6] A.M. Habermann, Title Pages of Hebrew Books, Museum of Printing Art, Safed:1969, pp. 8-9.

[7] For a discussion of the development of the title page as well as the different types, i.e., label, border, end-title, see M.M. Smith, The Title-Page its early development 1460-1510, The British Library & Oak Knoll Press, London & Deleware:2000.

[8] See M.J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book: An Abridged Thesaurus, Brill, Leiden & Boston:2004, vol. I, pp. 6-7.

[9] The border used for the Pesaro Talmuds first appeared in Decachordum Christianum (The Christian Ten String Harpsichord) published in Fano, 1507 by Gershom Soncino.  See M.J. Heller, Printing the Talmud, pp. 104-117  Additionally, see Heller’s discussion, id. p. 113, regarding Soncino’s reuse of the Dechachaordum‘s frames.  In reality, although the frames were originally cut for Decachordum, they were first used on Gershom’s edition of Bahya ibn Pakua’s commentary on the Torah, published four months prior to Decachordum.  See M.J. Heller, The Sixteenth Century Hebrew Book: An Abridged Thesaurus, Brill, Leiden & Boston:2004, vol. I, p. 41; Smith, The Title-Page, supra, pp. 47-59 (discussing the use of the blank title page).

[10]  See A.M. Habermann, “The Jewish Art of the Printed Book,” in Jewish Art, An Illustrated History, ed. Cecil Roth [revised ed. by B. Narkiss], New York Graphic Society Ltd., Connecticut:1971, pp. 167-68.  In Habermann’s earlier work, Title Pages of Hebrew Books, p. 9, he erroneously asserts that the earliest works to include architectural title pages were Soncino’s Melitza le-Maskil and Bomberg’s Tanach, both published in 1524/25.

[11]  See Joshua Bloch, “The Library’s Roman Hebrew Incunabula,” in Hebrew Printing & Bibliography, ed. Charles Berlin, New York:1976, p. 140.  For a description of this work see S. Iakerson, Catalogue of Hebrew Incunabula from the Collection of the Library of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America, JTS, New York & Jerusalem:2005, entry 7.

[12] See A.M. Habermann, “The Jewish Art of the Printed Book,” supra, at 169.  Habermann appears to argue that this is first printed Hebrew book containing illustrations, is incorrect. As discussed above, the first was the Rome edition of Sefer Mitzvot Gedolot. He is not alone in this error.  Ursula Schubert makes the same error.  See Ursula Schubert, Jewish Book Art, From the Renaissance until Emancipation, [Hebrew], Kibbutz hami-Uchad, Tel Aviv:1994, p. 27.  Habermann, id., notes that the great Hebrew bibliographer, Mortiz Steinschneider, was tricked with regard to one of the illustrations contained in Meshal
ha-Qadmoni.  Steinschneider, in a discussion about the alleged Christian origins of these illustrations, called attention to the fact that in one of them contains a monk wearing a crucifix. But, in the interim we have learned “that this last embellishment was a
practical joke played by a Christian scholar. . . [the crucifix] having been added by [a later] hand!”  Regarding the history and origins of the images included in Meshal ha-Qadmoni, see César Merchán-Hamann, “Fables from East to West,” in Crossing Borders, pp. 35-44; Ursula Schubert, Jewish Book Art, pp. 27-8.

[13]  Rabbi Charles Wengrov, Haggadah & Woodcut, p. 47 nn.112-13;Elliot Horowitz, “Between Cleanliness and Godliness,” in Tov Elem: Memory, Community & Gender in Medieval & Early Modern Jewish Societies, ed. E. Baumgarten, et al., Bialik Institute, Jerusalem:2011, *38-*39.

[14] Mendel Metzger, La Haggada Enluminée, E.J. Brill:1973, plate LIV, nos. 303-305; Chantily Haggadah, Musée Condé, Ms.
732, fol. 13, reproduced in Index of Jewish Art, eds. B. Narkiss & G. Sed-Rajna, Jerusalem-Paris:1976, vol. I, card no. 36.

[15] Horowitz, “Between Cleanliness,” at *38, (“One suspects that a Spanish Jew coming to Germany in the early 15th century would have been equally surprised to see an image of a naked woman” in a Hebrew manuscript.).

[16]  The Golden Haggadah, ed. Bezalel Narkiss, Pomegranate Artbooks, California:1997, figs. 17 & 24.

[17]  Id. n.37.  Horowitz only notes the 2001 example of censorship of Prague 1526, and apparently is unaware of the earlier
examples.  Additionally, he chastises the Efrat reproduction for erroneously indicating a 1527 publication date.  Efrat is not only in erring regarding the secular date.  The first facsimile edition (Berlin:1925), which includes a scholarly introduction, full title
is:  “Die Pessach Haggadah Des Gerschom Kohen Gedruckt Zu Prag 5287/1527.” Perhaps one can excuse the error as, in reality, it was completed on the eve of 1527, December 30, 1526.

[18] The Schechter Haggadah: Art, History & Commentary, [illustrations selected and annotated by David Golinkin], Schechter Institute of Jewish Studies, Jerusalem:2009, p. 36, fig. 16.1.