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Towards Decoding Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (The Great Parchment), A Cryptic 14th Century Italian Kabbalistic Text

Towards Decoding Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (The Great Parchment), A Cryptic 14th Century Italian Kabbalistic Text

By Ezra Brand

Ezra Brand is an independent researcher based in NYC. He has an MA from Revel Graduate School at Yeshiva University in Medieval Jewish History. His main research focus is currently 13th and 14th century sefirotic Kabbalah, and he is interested in using digital and computational tools in historical research. His previous contributions to the Seforim Blog can be found here, and a selection of his academic research can be found here. He can be reached at ezrabrand-at-gmail.com; any and all feedback is greatly appreciated.[1]

Sefirotic Kabbalah has its origins in thirteenth century Provence and Spain. It reached its apotheosis in the Zohar, which began to appear in Castile in the late thirteenth century. Kabbalistic literature started appearing in Italy soon after. Moshe Idel, in his masterly survey of kabbalah in medieval Italy, shows how “Rome was a place where Catalan Jewish culture, philosophical and kabbalistic, were already well established in the 1280s.”[2] And further: “Thus, in one decade, approximately 1280-1290, the Jewish culture in Rome was enriched by the arrival of a variety of Jewish esoteric material: theosophical and ecstatic Kabbalah, as well as Ashkenazi esoteric material.”[3] Idel raises the possibility that “a massive importation of kabbalistic literature took place in Italy at the very end of the thirteenth century.”[4] Idel make programmatic statement that “a pluralistic vision of the history of Kabbalah, which entails deemphasizing the centrality of Spain in the history of Kabbalah, will help to distinguish more precisely the specific contributions of Kabbalah in Italy.”[5]

Ha-Yeriah Ha-Gedolah (from here on: YG) is a fascinating, enigmatic work, which provides a window into this first flourishing of Italian Kabbalah. According to Giulio Busi, the academic scholar who first published YG from manuscript in 2004, “Ha-Yeri‘ah ha-Gedolah was probably written at the beginning of the 14th century by an author whose name remains unknown to us. Most likely, he was an Italian kabbalist, since all the preserved manuscripts have been copied by scribes working on the Italian peninsula.”[6]

The first modern academic scholar to mention YG was Gershom Scholem in his 1937 list of commentaries on the Ten Sefirot. Scholem also mentioned the line-by-line commentary on YG written by the fourteenth-century Italian kabbalist Reuven Tzarfati.[7] Scholem’s student Efraim Gottlieb, in a pioneering study on Tzarfati, discusses YG briefly.[8]

In 2004, Giulio Busi, with Simonetta M. Bondoni and Saverio Campanini, published YG for the first time, based on the extant manuscripts.[9] It comes out to 71 pages, with at most around 13 lines on a page.[10] Busi gives an introduction summarizing previous research and presenting his own research on this work, and an overview of the extant manuscripts of YG and Tzarfati’s commentary. (Busi’s introduction is available online.)

Like the thirteenth-century Zoharic literature[11] and related kabbalistic works, YG interprets biblical stories and topics in terms of the interplay between the sefirot. Busi describes it as a “forgotten masterpiece of kabbalistic literature,[12] and as “one of the most obscure texts of the whole kabbalah”.[13]

Even after its appearance in print, YG does not appear to have evinced very much interest, either among academic scholars or among enthusiasts of Kabbalistic literature. I am not aware of any further scholarship on this work. In a previous paper of mine, I gave an overview of some aspects of YG. Here, I’d like to revisit this enigmatic work, provide some suggestions for a way forward in decoding it, and hopefully spur further interest and research.[14]

YG is set up as work made up of sixteen “Sections” (sippurim).[15] Busi describes YG as “a booklet of a few extremely dense and symbolic pages.”[16] He further writes: “There is no doubt, however, that the Great Parchment is one of the most obscure texts of the whole kabbalah.”[17] Busi in his introduction gives an overview of each story based on Tzarfati’s commentary, prefacing: “Obviously, there is no guarantee that Sarfatti’s exegesis always reflects the thought of the unknown author of the work. Nevertheless, the detailed analysis of this early commentator represents the only starting point we possess with which to explore this still unknown chapter of late medieval kabbalah.”

I would claim that Busi overstates the obscurity of this work. I would like to point out a few aspects of YG that would aid in making progress in decoding this fascinating work.

Indexing Sefirotic Correspondences

Busi writes: “Apparently rebelling against the laws of meaning, [YG] is striking for its capacity to evoke waves of esoteric implications without ever mentioning directly the kabbalistic secrets.”[18] And further: “The key is offered by a scheme of correspondences that the author never enunciates openly but the reader must be aware of”.[19]

Again, I believe that this is somewhat overstated. Admittedly, the overarching narrative of the sections is often unclear.  The work is dense with biblical and Talmudic quotations and allusions, and written in a kind of associative, stream-of-consciousness style, making the overall narrative difficult to untangle. There are often what appear to be throwaway lines that don’t seem to be relevant in context. As I mention below, it may be that the author was simply writing with stream-of-consciousness, and never intended every line to have a deeper meaning. In any case, YG is by no means the only esoteric work to have been composed in a purposefully enigmatic style.

With all this in mind, the fact is that throughout the work, YG explicitly mentions sefirotic correspondences. Unlike the Zoharic literature, YG is replete with explicit usage of the standard terms for the ten sefirot. The Temple is a clear theme throughout (see below), and YG explicitly indexes the one-to-one correspondences between ten items in the Temple and the ten sefirot, using the sefirot’s standard names.[20] Another explication of symbols can be found in YG’s discussion of Ezekiel’s Vision of the Chariot, where the correspondence of the Four Faces with specific angels, cardinal directions, and sefirot are given, again using the sefirot’s standard names.[21]

Certain terms are used consistently for Evil (or closeness to Evil) throughout, such as Sha’atnez, Woman, Snake, Calf, Donkey, Limping Thigh, Mixture.[22] Specific terms recur with presumably consistent sefirotic equivalences, such as Ruth and Upper Pool.[23]

Even if YG never explicitly defines the meaning of a symbol, comparison with other thirteenth- and fourteenth-century works should allow for fairly certain elucidation.[24]

Close Commentary of Biblical Texts or Specific Topics

In many sections, YG very closely hews to biblical texts, quoting the biblical words and performing an extremely close interpretation, sometimes phrase-by-phrase, or even word-by-word. Busi’s edition does a tremendous service by italicizing the biblical quotes, but many quotes fall through the cracks and are not italicized. YG is often written in a way that only a single word is added to biblical text, or a biblical word is paraphrased, the order of words is switched, words are skipped words, or a pastiche between two biblical verses is made. These techniques presumably impart meaning. Closely separating the biblical quotes from YG’s additions or paraphrase helps clarify what exactly YG is attempting to convey.

Even when YG is not closely interpreting a biblical text line-by-line, the topic is often still clearly defined.

By comparing how other thirteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalistic works interpret these biblical stories and topics, it is likely that much light would be shed on the discourses of YG.

Please see the appendix of this article for a chart comparing YG’s Sections with corresponding biblical stories or topics.

Word Associations

A striking aspect of YG is the continuous flow of writing, using word associations and wordplay. This is true both in terms of how it interprets biblical verses, as well as how it segues into new topics seemingly based on linguistic similarities alone. This interest in wordplay likely ties in to the ideas of “Linguistic Kabbalah,” which were influenced by Abraham Abulafia.[25] As mentioned earlier, YG was most likely written by an Italian kabbalist at the beginning of the fourteenth century, a time when Abulafia’s influence was strongly felt.

Some particularly notable examples of this can be found in Section 7, which is devoted to Jacob/Tiferet. I’ll adduce one example from there, a riff on the word “Tiferet” (my underlines, italics of biblical verses and biblical citations in Busi’s original, with small changes in punctuation where it seems appropriate):[26]

ועל כן לא יאכלו בני ישראל את גיד הנשה [בראשית לב לג]. לא יכרתו החוט הבא עליהם בשפע אמיתי, הנשה שלא ישכחו התורה, הה״ד ישראל לא תנשני [ישעיה מד כא]. והחוט הוא הוא״ו הנאצלת על תפארת הה״ד <ישראל> אשר בך אתפאר [ישעיה מט ג] ולקדוש ישראל כי פארך [ישעיה ס ט] זה ואלהי יעקב.[27] אפריון עשה לו המלך שלמה מעצי הלבנון [שיר השירים ג ט]. ובית תפארתי אפאר [ישעיה ס ז]. ועם כל זה לא תפאר אחריך [דברים כד כ] בעשרה היניקות היונקות ונאצלות מן הקו האמצעי קדוש ונורא [תהלים קיא ט]. כי תחלת העשרה הוא השם הגדול א׳[28]. על כן <לא> תסיר האצילות מהם. אם הם שפלים (אם) בעיניך, פאר הראש הם וגדולים, כי בן בג בג עומד על גבה. 

The overall message of this passage is fairly clear: First, the author closely interprets the verse in Genesis as saying that Jews should not block the flow (YG interprets “gid” to mean “chut”), and should not forget the Torah (interpreting the next word “hanashe” to mean “forgetting”, using the verse in Isaiah to show that “hanashe” can mean forgetting[29]).

The passage then clearly begins to riff on the root “Pe’er,” which is the root of the word Tiferet, the sefirah under discussion in this Section. YG brings quotes which use “Pe’er” in five different ways (התפאר, פאר, אפריון, תפארת, פיאר). The passage is saying not to “remove” the ten sefirot which emanate from Tiferet,[30] since the beginning of the ten sefirot are Keter. It may very well be that the individual verses do not add an additional mystical meaning, and the author is simply reveling in adducing additional verses with the same root.

Post-Biblical Sources

As mentioned, YG is dense not just with biblical quotes and allusions, but also with quotes of and allusions to Talmud, Midrash, and other medieval sources.[31]

YG mentions the messianic figures of Menachem ben Amiel and Nehemiah ben Hushiel,[32] who appear in early medieval works, such as the apocalyptic Sefer Zerubavel and Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer.

YG supports an idea with a quote that seems to be an adage that was popular among medieval Jewish authors:[33]

״הה״ד אשרי המדבר באוזן שומעת״

The first source that I could find for this adage is Ramban in his early work Milhamot Hashem, at the end of a long piece, where he lyrically writes that a certain opinion is correct:[34]

״והדברים מודיעים שכולם נכוחים למבין וישרים למוצאי דעת ואשרי המדבר לאוזן השומעת״

It therefore seems clear that YG’s ״באוזן״ should correctly be ״לאוזן״ as the Munich manuscript has it.[35] Soon after Ramban, this saying is used by Meiri and Sefer HaHinuch in a similar way: As an exhortation at the end of passage, and certainly not as a quote.[36]

Some Greek philosophical concepts are mentioned in YG, such as the Five Senses and the tripartite soul.[37]

A sampling of interesting scientific statements made by YG: “Water is good at all times and for all living creatures, which is not the case for other liquids”. [38] “The dove has no gallbladder.”[39]

While discussing YG’s sources and quotations, I can’t help but discuss a fascinating passage found in the discussion on the Sotah:[40]

״מה שאמרו ז״ל סוטה לא הייתה ולא נבראת, ר״ל במעשה מפורסם, ואם תאמר המעשה שמביאין שאשה אחת שתתה מי סוטה בחילוף אחותה ולא הזיקו לה ואחרי כן <באה> אצל אחותה ונקשה ומן הריח מיד <וצבתה> בטנה ונפלה ירכה [במדבר ה כז] כי היא הייתה טמאה, זה סיוע לדברינו, ורצו באומרם [זה המעשה][41] כי כל הדיעות[42] חוצבו ממקום אחד ואדם אחד ישיג השגת <העדן ואדם אחד ישיג השגת> גיהנם.״

YG starts off with a(n allegedly) rabbinic quote which makes the shocking statement that the Sotah ritual never actually happened. The quote is cryptically explained by YG to mean “במעשה המפורסם”, presumably meaning that in fact the Sotah ritual occurred, but that there was never a “famous” (or “publicly-known” or “well-known”) case.[43] YG then continues that if you may question this explanation on the basis of “a story which is brought” (״ואם תאמר המעשה שמביאין״). The story appears as described in more than one Midrashic source.[44] For convenience, I’ll quote the Midrash Tanhuma’s rendition with the online Sefaria translation:

“[There is] a story about two sisters who resembled each other. Now one was married in one city and the other was married in another city. The husband of one of them wanted to accuse her of infidelity and have her drink the bitter water in Jerusalem. She went to that city where her married sister was. Her sister said to her, “What was your reason for coming here?” She said to her, “My husband wants to have me drink [the bitter water].” Her sister said to her, “I will go in your place and drink it.” She said to her, “Go.” She put on her sister’s clothes, went in her place, drank the bitter water, and was found clean. When she returned to her sister’s house, she joyfully went out to meet her, then embraced and kissed her on the mouth. As soon as the one kissed the other, she smelled the bitter water and immediately died, in order to fulfill what is stated (in Eccl. 8:8), “No human has control over the wind to contain the wind, nor is there control on the day of death […].”

YG goes on to say that on the contrary, this story actually supports his explanation (״זה סיוע לדברינו״). It is likely that what YG means is that since in the story of the two sisters the actual death of the sister occurred in private, it was not a publicly-known case.[45]

YG next says the story of the two sisters can be understood allegorically to mean that all “knowledge” (or “evil”) comes from one place. In other words, the story of the Sotah water being passed from the innocent sister to the guilty sister should be understood allegorically. The Sotah water has inherent power, but the power that it has really depends on the person imbibing it. The innocent sister was unharmed by the Sotah water, but when it reached her unfaithful sister, it had an effect. In the same way, all knowledge starts off the same, but whether this knowledge is reified as good or evil depends on the person comprehending the knowledge.

I could not find any source for YG’s quote that “סוטה לא הייתה ולא נבראת”. YG prefaces the quote with ״ומה שאמרו ז״ל״, which generally means that it’s a quote from the Talmud or Midrash.  The Talmud Bavli in Sanhedrin 71a uses the formulation “לא היה ולא נברא” regarding the Wayward Son and City of Idol Worshippers (בן סורר ומורה ועיר הנידחת), but not about Sotah.

Ishay Rosen-Zvi made this very same claim from a critical historical perspective in his 2008 book (based on his doctoral dissertation), that the Sotah ritual never actually happened and was essentially a purely theoretical law.[46] Meir Bar-Ilan harshly criticized Rozen-Zvi’s thesis, in a review article called “Between False Reality and Fictional History”, available on his homepage here.[47] Bar-Ilan admits that there are instances where even the Talmudic rabbis said that a biblical story or a biblical ritual never actually occurred, but he believes that Sotah is not one of these cases. It would be interesting to discover additional traditional sources that state that the Sotah ritual (or “Sotah ordeal”, as Bar-Ilan believes is the more accurate appellation) never actually took place.

Let me point to another case of YG claiming that a story recounted in an authoritative text was not an actual historical event. This time, shockingly, it is regarding the Sacrifice of Isaac, where YG claims that this was a dream:[48]

“שעשה חסד לעקוד את יצחק בנו להיות זריז על מצות המלך שעקדת יצחק חלום היה ולא דבר אחר”.

 Marc Shapiro in his book Changing the Immutable cites other medieval sources (including possibly Maimonides) which also say that the Sacrifice of Isaac never happened, and shows how this idea was considered so problematic by a later printer of Moreh Nevuchim that it was censored out of the Ephodi commentary.[49]

In any case, the two parts of the statement would seem to contradict each other : If YG assumes that the Akedah was only a dream, then what was the great “kindness” (״חסד״) to offer up Isaac? It is very likely that this line in YG needs to be read sefirotically: Isaac is a common reference to Gevurah while Abraham is a reference to Hesed. The Akeda is being read as an amelioration of Gevurah by Hesed. If this is true, the meaning of this line in YG is as follows: Since the Akedah was a dream, and not a historical event, we cannot explain the story in a straightforward way, for example as illustrating Abraham’s submission to God’s will. Rather, it must be understood sefirotically, as illustrating the interplay of Gevuah and Hesed.[50]

Temple Vessels and Rituals

Many of the of biblical sections interpreted by YG, as well as topics discussed, relate to the Temple. As I mentioned earlier, YG clearly indexes the correspondences between items in the Temple and the sefirot.[51] A majority of the Sections begin with an item from the Temple. The Scapegoat, sent into the desert by the High Priest on Yom Kippur as part of the Yom Kippur Temple service, is a recurring symbol of evil in YG.[52] Most of Section 11 is an extended discussion of the Candelabrum, in turn interpreting the verses relating to the Candelabrum in Zachariah, Ezekiel, and the Pentateuch. The entireties of Sections 14 and 15 are devoted to verse-by-verse interpretations of the Bible verses on the Sotah and the Red Heifer, respectively. Both of these rituals were performed at, or at least near, the Temple.

Conclusion

YG is an early, fascinating, and cryptic work. I have attempted in this article to give an overview of some themes of the work, as well as some fascinating statements that I could not find elsewhere. I am hoping that someone will take upon themselves to publish Reuven Tzarfati’s commentary in some form, which should greatly further progress in understanding YG.[53]

Appendix

Breakdown by Section of Interpretation of Biblical Texts or Topics

Story # biblical verses topic page(s)
1 layout of Eden; creation of Adam and Eve; eating from Tree of Knowledge; curse on the Snake (Genesis 2: 9-14, 25; 3: 6)   119-121
  Golden Calf (Exodus 32:1)   121-122
  Staff of Moses   122
  Bala’am   122
  Phineas / Eliyahu   123-124
  Snake   124
2 Flood   125-128
  Moses in Egypt   128-129
  Flood (continued)   129-130
  Sacrifice of Isaac   130-131
3      
  Yom Kippur service   131
  Circumcision / Orla (Foreskin and Tree)   132-135
4 Hagar and Ishmael   135-138
5      
6   Foreplate 140
    Phylacteries 140-141
    Dove 141
    Foreplate (continuation) 141
7 Death of Jacob   142
    World-to-Come 142-143
  Jacob’s fight with angel   144
    Tiferet 144-145
    Even Shetiyya 145-146
  Korah   146
  Moses hitting the rock   146-148
8 Abraham and Covenant of the Pieces   148-151
    Ruth; Keter; Messiah 151-152
  Abraham and Covenant of the Pieces (continuation)   153-154
9   Netzach  
10   Gilgul and Levirate marriage 158-160
  Levirate marriage (Deuteronomy 25: 6-10)   158-159
  Song of Songs 4:3,8,11,15   158-161
  Ruth lies with Boaz (Ruth 3:8-14)   160-163
11 Zachariah lights menorah (Zachariah 3:4-5; 4:2-3, 14)   164-165
  Ezekiel and menorah (Ezekiel 40:5, 6, 9; 41:2)   166-167
  Menorah in tabernacle (Exodus 25:31-32)   167-168
  Ezekiel’s chariot (Ezekiel 1:10)   168-169
    Scapegoat 169-170
12   Manna 170-173
13   Prayer 173-174
    Sha’atnez prohibition 174-177
14 Sotah (Numbers 5)   177-181
15 Red Heifer (Numbers 19)   182-188

[1] I would like to thank Binyamin Goldstein and my father  for looking over a draft of this article and making very helpful comments and corrections.

[2] Moshe Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, 1280-1510: A Survey, pg. 99.

[3] Idel, pg. 102.

[4] Idel, pg. 111.

[5] Pg. 113.

[6] Pg. 23.

[7] For more on Tzarfati, see Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, pp. 148-150, and index.

[8] In Efraim Gottlieb, Studies in the Kabbala Literature (Hebrew), ed. J. Hacker (Tel Aviv: Tel Aviv University, 1976).

[9] Busi’s book includes Flavius Mithridates’s Latin translation of YG, which Mithridates had prepared for the well-known fifteenth-century Italian Renaissance nobleman and philosopher Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. Busi also includes an English translation of the Latin.

[10] The actual text of YG is pp. 119-191.

[11] I use “Zoharic literature” to mean “The Zohar”, as is now common in academic scholarship.

[12] The Great Parchment. Flavius Mithridates’ Latin Translation, the Hebrew Text, and an English Version, Edited by Giulio Busi with Simonetta M. Bondoni and Saverio Campanini, Turin, Nino Aragno Editore, 2004, pp. 21, 28.

[13] Pg. 29.

[14] I still have not had a chance to study Tzarfati’s full commentary to YG. Busi says he has a transcription of it (pg. 29, footnote 19). Unfortunately I could not get access to this transcription. A few manuscripts of Tzarfati’s commentary are available through National Library of Israel’s Ketiv website. I read through a few pages of the commentary in Moscow RSL 134, which had the advantage of being available for download (the manuscript pages on Ketiv’s online reader load very slowly, and often buffer endlessly and don’t load at all).

I was excited to discover a new automated tool being developed for transcribing Hebrew manuscripts, which launched a few months ago, called Tikkoun Sofrim:  https://tikkoun-sofrim.firebaseapp.com/en. I read their documentation and contributed a few lines to each of the two manuscripts they have up, and I was quite impressed. I look forward to being able to use the tool to assist in transcribing additional manuscripts.

[15] Although YG is called in some manuscripts “Iggeret Sippurim”, “sippurim” in this context likely means “sections”, as pointed out by Gottlieb. This is because there are no “stories” per se being told. For this reason I use the term “Sections” for YG’s “sippurim”, contra Busi who uses the term “Tales” to describe the Sections. That YG doesn’t contain any literal tales is in contrast to the Zoharic literature, where kabbalistic and midrashic interpretations are generally framed within tales of R’ Shimon bar Yochai and his circle. For a recent comprehensive study of this important aspect of the Zohar, see Eitan Fishbane’s, The Art of Mystical Narrative: A Poetics of the Zohar, Oxford University Press, 2018.

[16] Pg. 21.

[17] Pg. 29.

[18] Pg. 28

[19] Pg. 29.

[20] Pg. 163, beginning of Section 11.

[21] Pg. 169. The correspondences there are not completely clear to me, as mixed in with the standard names for sefirot are other superlatives, and it’s not completely clear to me how to punctuate the text. The sefirot seem to be grouped there into four parts as follows: 1) Keter; 2) Tiferet, Chochma, Bina; 3) Shechina (=Malchut); Gedulah (=Chessed), Gevurah; Netzach; 4) Hod, Yesod.

As an aside, I want to point out another confusing detail in this passage :

״וצורת אדם גבריאל ד׳ אלפין מרוח ימה.״

It would appear that רוח ימה in this context actually means East, and not West as it typically does. This is for two reasons: First of all, on pg. 183 YG states explicitly that צורת אדם corresponds with East. In addition, it is clear that it is actually צורת שור that corresponds to West, as it says in the continuation of pg. 169, as well as on pg. 183.

[22] שעטנז, אשה (חוה), נחש, עגל (הזהב), חמור, ירך צולע, ערב.

[23] רות, בריכה עליונה.

[24] Eliyahu Peretz’s index of sefirot of selected thirteenth- and fourteenth-century kabbalistic works is especially useful in this respect: E. Peretz, Ma’alot ha-Zohar, Jerusalem 1987. I would like to thank Dr. Daniel Matt for bringing this work to my attention.

[25] For more on this, see my previous article on YG, as well as my article “Joseph Gikatilla’s “Hasagot on the Moreh”: A Linguistic Kabbalist Reads Moreh Nevuchim”, which can be found here.

[26] Pg. 144. Another very interesting illustrative example can be found earlier in that page, where one of the words in the association is not explicit:

״ואשרי המחכה ויגיע [דניאל יב יב] לקץ הימין, בזמן שהם עושים רצון השלשלת העליונה, ולא לקץ השמאל, הצולעה שנשמט מירך יעקב, ולא מישראל כי שרה עם אלהים, שאמר <גרש> האמה <הזאת> ואת בנה [בראשית כא י]״.

It seems clear that the connection being made is due to the wordplay of the homonyms spelled שרה, in the two verses, which is explicitly quoted in the first verse (where it means “struggled”), and implicit in the second verse (where “Sarah” is the speaker). Incidentally, this is an example of the word “Limping” being used a symbol for Evil, “Limping” being a common symbol in YG for Evil.

[27] “Velohei Yaakov” seems to be a reference to a biblical phrase, which appears three times in the Bible. See Mithradates’ translation (pg. 216). It is unclear to me if Mithradates’ interpretation is correct.

[28] This letter most likely is a shortening of “Akatriel,” which is used throughout the work to mean Keter.

[29]  This may also be a play on “Yisrael” used in the verse in Isaiah, which can also mean Jacob.

[30] The idea of each sefirah having its own secondary emanation of ten sefirot emanating from it, is a theme of YG, as Busi mentions in his introduction.

[31] Busi’s edition does give those sources a handful of times, but mostly does not, even when a source is explicitly being quoted.

[32] Pg. 165.

[33] Pg. 133.

[34] Milhamot Hashem on Rif Shabbat 12a, last line.

[35] Apparatus fn. 184.

[36] Meiri in his commentary to Bavli Berahot 3b s.v. “לעולם” (last line); Sefer HaHinuch, Parshat Va’ethanan, Mitzvah  419, s.v. “ומה שאמרו”. In subsequent generations, the adage is almost exclusively formulated in a more biblical style, as ״אשרי המדבר על אוזן שומעת״, on the pattern of Proverbs 25:12. It is formulated this way already by Meiri in his Magen Avot, Topic 1, s.v. ״ואף בשאלתות״ (last line).

[37] Pg. 187. The manuscript on which the text is based only has two parts of the soul, but the apparatus in fn. 1025 says that the JTS manuscript has all three parts written.

[38] Pg. 187: ״המים טובים בכל זמן ולכל בעלי חיים, מה שאין כן בשאר משקים״.

[39] Pg. 141: ״ועל כן היונה אין לה מרה״. I also found this, using a search, in the Rashba (in his commentary on Bavli Hulin 42a s.v. “kol”) and in other medieval works.

[40] Pg. 180.

[41] This word is added in a MS, according to the apparatus.

[42] According to the apparatus, one MS has “הרעות” in place of “הדיעות”, which may be the more correct version, based on the context.

[43] See my footnote below for a discussion of this explanation and how to parse the whole passage of YG.

[44] This story appears in Midrash Tanhuma parshat Naso (on one of the Sotah verses – Numbers 5:12),  §10 in the Buber edition, and §6 in the regular version, and in Bamidbar Rabbah (on that same verse) 9:9. As an aside, the story is also referenced by Rashi in his commentary on Numbers 5:13.

[45] I would like to thank Binyamin Goldstein for clarifying this for me. Admittedly, the flow of the passage is confusing, with first stating the story as a question, and then suddenly saying that it’s in fact support.

[46] Rosen-Zvi, The Rite that Was Not: Temple, Midrash and Gender in Tractate Sotah, Jerusalem: Magnes, 2008 (Hebrew).

[47] Pp. 12-19. (See there pp.19-22 for an interesting discussion about the authenticity of Mishnaic descriptions of the Yom Kippur service in the Temple and the Red Heifer.) Bar-Ilan there in a footnote (fn. 42) points out that another scholar previously posited in her 1984 book that the Sotah ritual never happened and is totally theoretical.

I’d like to point out what appears to be a clear error made by Rozen-Zvi, not pointed out by Bar-Ilan (even though Bar-Ilan, pg. 13, quotes this passage in Rozen-Zvi verbatim). Rozen-Tzvi remarks, pg. 156, in reference to a story about a Sotah in the Mishnah in Eduyot 5:6 (parentheses and exclamation mark in the original):

״זוהי העדות היחידה (בכלל, לא רק בספרות חז״ל!) שנותרה על מאורע מסוים של השקיית סוטה בתקופת הבית.״

The Midrashic story quoted by YG is at least one instance of exactly such a textual witness. (As to whether the Midrash Bamidbar Rabbah and the Tanhuma are within the bounds of “Hazalic literature” is a separate discussion, but Rozen-Zvi explicitly adds there’s no such witness even outside of Hazalic/Talmudic literature.)

[48] Pg. 138.

[49] Shapiro, Changing the Immutable, pp. 67-73. I’d like to thank Marc Shapiro for telling me about this by email a few years ago, before Changing the Immutable was published.

[50] I would like to thank Marc Shapiro and Jonathan Dauber for their insightful comments on this passage, when I was writing my first paper on this topic.

[51] Pg. 163, beginning of Section # 11.

[52] See especially the lines at the end of Section #11 (pp. 169-170):

״ושעיר המשתלח הפך המנורה. שמים חשך לאור ואור לחשך [ישעיהו ה כ], הה״ד בפיו ובשפתיו כבדוני ולבו רחוק ממני ותהי יראתם אותי מצות אנשים מלומדה [ישעיהו כט יג]. ושעיר המשתלח היה מעור סמאל. והמשלח את השעיר [לעזאזל] יכבס בגדיו [ויקרא טז כו].״

It is possible that עור סמאל is a play on אור, mentioned earlier in the section quoted,  as עור being the opposite of אור is a common idea in Kabbalah. In general, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the relevant well-known comment of the Ramban in his commentary on the biblical verse of the Scapegoat, where he makes the surprising comment that sending the Scapegoat to the desert is intended as a way to appease the forces of evil.

[53] Reuven Tzarfati is an important Kabbalist in his own right, whose works deserve further study, according to Moshe Idel, one of the pre-eminent scholars of kabbalah. See Idel, Kabbalah in Italy, 1280-1510: A Survey, pp. 148.




Book review: Asaf Yedidya, Criticized Criticism – Orthodox Alternatives to Wissenschaft des Judentums 1873 – 1956

אסף ידידיה, ביקורת מבוקרת: אלטרנטיבות אורתודוקסיות ל’מדע היהדות’ 1956-1873, 415 עמודים, ירושלים תשע”ג
Asaf Yedidya, Criticized Criticism – Orthodox Alternatives to Wissenschaft des Judentums 1873 – 1956
By Ezra Brand
Criticized Criticism is a book which I think would greatly interest any reader of the Seforim Blog. It deals with the history of the Orthodox “alternatives” to secular Jewish Studies, as well as many important issues that religious Jewish Studies scholars face.[1]  In this, it fills a definitely felt lack in Jewish historiography.  It follows a trend of recent works devoted to the history of specific aspects of Jewish Studies.[2]  The book is especially important since we do not yet have a complete history of Jewish Studies, but rather many works that focus only on slices of it.  For example, there are a number of works on the history of research into the Cairo Genizah, as well as numerous books and articles on individual researchers and institutions.[3] This is part of a larger trend in academia – the study of the history of academic disciplines themselves. Given its scholarship and readability, Criticized Criticism is likely to take a deserved place with other important works on the history of Jewish Studies.
The book does not try to encompass the entire history of the phenomenon it studies. As stated on the cover, it covers an 83-year period, from 1873 until 1956. The significance of the year 1873 is that this is the year that the Rabbinical Seminary in Berlin was opened by R’ Ezriel Hildesheimer. With the establishment of the Seminary, an “alternative,” Orthodox, Jewish Studies had an institutional home.  1956 is the year that Bar-Ilan University was opened. As Yedidya explains, Bar-Ilan was intended by its founders to continue the tradition of providing an “alternative” form of Jewish Studies, but ended up producing scholarship with essentially the same assumptions as mainstream Jewish Studies, for various reasons. The Orthodox alternative tradition no longer had an institutional home.[4]
The book begins with a general overview of the early development of Jewish Studies, starting from the early nineteenth century in Berlin (including a description of what Jewish Studies then entailed, and how it was different from traditional Jewish scholarship), and its subsequent spread to Eastern Europe. In Chapter Two, a short history of early Orthodox reactions to Jewish Studies is given.[5] At the end of this chapter, the program of the book is stated: To analyze Orthodox reactions to secular Jewish Studies, which on the one hand accept the scientific method, and on the other hand accept Orthodox principles of faith as a given. Yedidya states (pg. 72): “The first real attempt in this direction was the establishment of the Rabbinical Seminary headed by R’ Ezriel Hildesheimer in Berlin, which devoted itself among other things to Jewish Studies.” [6] In Chapter Three, the book begins its discussion of the Seminary.
The book discusses many other major figures, such as R’ Yitchak Isaac Halevi and Ze’ev Ya’avetz. Yedidya carefully analyzes their methodology and their underlying ideology.
A major portion of the book is devoted to discussing Orthodox Jewish Studies in Eretz Yisrael in the early twentieth century. Many of the scholars in this group were greatly influenced by R’ Kook, and his influence is discussed extensively. R’ Kook supported studying texts scientifically, and expanding the range of texts studied. However, R’ Kook is portrayed by Yedidya as doing so only in order to counter heretical scholarship: “R’ Kook supported the Orthodox study of ‘Jewish Studies’, as an alternative to the non-Orthodox study” (pg. 273, my
italics). Again: “R’ Kook sought to widen the scope of limmud hatorah […] and to add additional Torah subjects, which would prepare Talmidei Chachamim for intellectual creativity which would allow them to confront with the litereature of Haskalah and secular nationalism” (pg. 282, my italics). However, it appears that in fact R’ Kook believed that scientific Jewish Studies is important for its own sake. R’ Ari Shvat, in a series of articles, shows that R’ Kook had great respect for Jewish Studies, and felt that it inherently had great religious worth.[7] R’ Kook writes: “Subjecting the intellect and causing it to slumber […] is the destruction of the world […] therefore, when the attempt to cause the intellect to sleep comes in the name of ‘faith’, in the name of ‘fear of Heaven’, in the name of ‘diligence in Torah study’ and ‘doing mitzvos’, it is a terrible falsehood […] the hatred of haskalah[8] because of a faith-based bias (הנטיה האמונית) comes from the poison of heresy, which divides the domains (המחלקת את הרשויות)”.[9]
At the end of the book, Yedidya summarizes the common denominator among all the scholars attempting to defend their beliefs and create an “Orthodox alternative.” In the beginning of the book, we are told that the book will discuss scholars who are between two opposite extremes: On one side, traditional Orthodox scholars who refuse to accept the legitimacy, or usefulness, of the scientific method, and on the other side, scholars who look at the discipline of Jewish Studies as they would any other subject. Yedidya explains very nicely how the scholars about whom he writes are different from both of these extremes. Three differences – numbered – are listed for differences from the former, and six for differences from the latter. I’d like to make two observations.
In the enumeration of differences from traditional Orthodox scholars, the second difference listed is the following (pg. 372): “Secondly, from a thematic perspective, they dealt with a wide range of disciplines – Tanach, literature of Chazal, Jewish history, and Jewish philosophy, and did not focus only on specific debates with ‘problematic’ works or with introspective inner-gazing at the roots of the specific movement they are part of.” This may be meant to be implied by Yedidya, but it is important enough that it should have been mentioned explicitly: The scholars discussed by Yedidya wrote almost exclusively on Jewish history, the history of Torah Sheba’al Peh; and Tanach. (These are the titles in Critized Criticism of chapters four, five, and six, respectively. Of course, these scholars also researched traditional Jewish literature, such as R’ Chaim Heller’s edition of Sefer HaMitzvos.) Which of these scholars researched Kabbalah as did Graetz, Shadal, Jellenick, Franck, and later Scholem? Which of these scholars wrote on Jewish philosophy and science in the Middle Ages, as did Steinschneider? Which of them researched piyyutim (Zunz, Shadal, Brody), Karaism (Poznanski), or magic (Blau and Trachtenberg)? It would appear that, in fact, these scholars did not write on any subject that touched on Jews, except in one of three cases: one, if they felt they had to defend something; two, if it was important for educational purposes; three, if it was part of Talmud Torah.
The attempt at creating religious “alternatives” to secular Jewish Studies mostly ended in the 1950s, as pointed out by Yedidya. However, this is not true for the study of Tanach. Defense of the traditional understanding of Revelation, against academic Bible Studies, was relaunched with full force by R’ Mordechai Breuer in 1960. Breuer’s idea of “Bechinot” caused great controversy, but he continued to publish and teach his ideas. The yeshiva that he became associated with, Yeshivat Har Etzion in Alon Shvut, or “The Gush” as it is colloquially known, is now synonymous with an entire method of Biblical hermeneutics, known as the “The Gush method.” R’ Amnon Bazak’s pioneering book, Ad Hayom Hazeh (Tel Aviv 2013), systematically lays out for the first time possible flexibility in the traditional understanding of the Bible. “Orthodox alternatives” are alive and well.[10]
That Criticized Criticism can prompt such lively discussion is a tribute to its author and his presentation of his subject.  The book is an enjoyable and informative read, and I heartily recommend it.

 


[1] “Jewish Studies” meaning the critical, historical research into Jewish sources, using all tools and methods available, whether
history, philology, realia, or comparison to non-Jewish sources. Recently, a number of religious Jewish Studies scholars have discussed the differences between traditional methods of study and the scientific method. See, for example, the important article by Menachem Kahana (מנחם כהנא, “מחקר התלמוד באוניברסיטה והלימוד המסורתי בישיבה”, בחבלי מסורת ותמורה, רחובות
תש”ן, עמ’ 113-142), and the articles mentioned in the introduction to Sperber’s Neitvot Pesikah (דניאל שפרבר, נתיבות פסיקה, ירושלים תשס”ח). See also further, footnote 10.
[2] One of the first to study at length the history of research in Jewish Studies is the great Jewish historian Salo Baron. His essays on this topic are collected in History and Jewish Historians, Philadelphia 1964.
[3] Some of the researchers have full-length academic monographs devoted to them, usually including both a biography as well as an analysis of their works and methods.  Examples are the following (authors of the biographies in parenthesis; more information can easily be found in online catalogs): Nachman Krochmal (Jay Harris), Shlomo Yehuda Rapoport (Isaac Barzilay), Heinrich Graetz (ראובן מיכאל), Gershom
Scholem (David Biale). Others have only non-academic, popular biographies: Isaac Halevy (O. Asher Reichel), Louis Ginzberg (Eli Ginzberg), Saul Lieberman (Schochet and Spiro). Articles on individual scholars can be found in all the Jewish enyclopedias (Jewish Encyclopedia, both editions of Encyclopedia Judaica, and in the Hebrew Encyclopedia Ha’Ivrit), as well as in the following works: Getzel Kressel, Lexicon Hasifrut Ha’ivrit Bedorot Ha’achronim,  Tidhar, Encyclopedia Lechalutzei Hayishuv Ovonav, S. Federbush, Chochmat Yisrael B’Ma’arav
Eiropa
, 1–3, Jerusalem 5719-5725; Encyclopedia shel HaTziyonut Hadatit, 1-5, Jerusalem 5718-5743. These last two works are the ones usually used in the work under review for biographies of people mentioned in the book; numerous other works can be found in the bibliography. Another important resource is of course Jubilee volumes, memorial volumes, and tribute articles.
[4] This is no longer completely true. The Gush Yeshiva can currently be considered an institution that offers a consistent alternative methodology, at least in regards to Tanach. See later.
[5] For some reason, Maharatz Chajes is not mentioned at all in this section.
[6] My translation of the book’s Hebrew.
[8]  This can be translated either as “Haskalah” (as in the movement) or as “education.”  R’ Kook may have been intentionally ambiguous.
[9] Orot Haemunah, ed. 5745, pg. 98. Quoted by Shvat, “Chochmat Yisrael”, near footnote 88.
[10] There is also a nascent interest in yeshivos in the academic study of Talmud and Rambam. The academic study of Talmud was experimented with by R’ Shagar, and continued in the yeshiva of Otniel, especially by R’ Yakov Nagen (Genack) and R’ Meir Lichtenstein. However, as far as I know it has not produced any “school” of methodology. R’ Shagar ultimately rejected the academic method. See the collection of his essays, B’toraso Yehege (הרב שמעון גרשון רוזנברג – שג”ר, בתורתו יהגה : לימוד גמרא כבקשת אלוקים, בעריכת זוהר מאור, אלון שבות תשס”ט). R’ Nagen discusses the religious advantages and disadvantages of the academic method in his fine article, “Scholarship Needs Spirituality, Spirituality Needs Scholarship: Challenges for Emerging Talmudic Methodologies”, Torah u-Madda Journal 16 (2012-2013), pg. 101-133 . The academic study of Rambam was pioneered by R’ Rabinowitz and R’ Sheilat in Ma’aleh Adumim. R’ Rabinowitz’s commentary on Rambam is in the same tradition as the works described by Yedidya, but is not properly an alternative, as it is not guided by a reaction to the secular, scientific study of Rambam. (The main “secular” academic expositors of Rambam’s Mishneh Torah are David Henshke and Yaakov Blidstein. Henshke used to teach in Ma’aleh Adumim.) An extension of Yedidya’s research past 1956 is desideratum. In addition, it would be interesting to analyze the relationship of the traditional Orthodox (i.e., those who not consider themselves to be participating in scientific study of texts), and especially Chareidim, to academic scholarship. In the past few decades, we have seen a phenomenon of traditional scholars being aware of academic scholarship, and even using it, but not acknowledging it. (For those interested in examples, please contact me.) For a similar phenomenon in regards to popular Chareidi literature, see the fascinating study by Yoel Finkelman, Strictly Kosher Reading: Popular Literature and the Condition of Contemporary Orthodoxy, Boston 2011.



Talmudic Humor and Its Discontents

Talmudic Humor and Its Discontents
by Ezra Brand
In honor of Purim, I’d like to discuss a few aspects of humor in the Talmud[1]. But first, a short overview of topic of Jewish humor in general.
A lot has been written about Jewish humor[2]. A very good overview of Jewish humor, in general, is that of Avner Ziv in the second edition of Encyclopedia Judaica, under the entry “Humor”[3]. However, most of the piece is about Jewish humor from the eighteenth century and on, with only a little bit at the beginning about humor in Tanach, the Talmud, and the time of the Rishonim. He writes a fascinating few lines in the beginning of the entry:
What is generally identified in the professional literature as Jewish humor originated in the 19th century, mainly, but not
exclusively, in Eastern Europe. Today in the U.S., Jewish humor is considered as one of the mainstreams of American humor.
At the beginning of the 19th century, sense of humor was not associated with Jewishness. Herman Adler, the chief rabbi of
London, felt impelled to write an article in 1893 in which he argued against the view that Jews have no sense of humor. It is perhaps interesting to note that not only Jews but non-Jews as well consider today “a good sense of humor” as one of the noble characteristics of Jews.
Even H.N. Bialik had a similar sentiment about the lack of humor in earlier Jewish sources[4]:
“To our great distress, there is very little humor in our literature. It is hard to find five continuous lines in Tanach with humor.” The above-mentioned Avner Ziv writes elsewhere: “Even in the Talmud there appear references (though few) to humor, but in total there is not a “treasury” of humor […] not until the end of the 19th century did there appear anything but a few references to Jewish humor.”
However, David Lifshitz begs to differ. In 1995, he wrote an entire doctorate on the topic of humor in the  Talmud[5]. He wasn’t the first to collect pieces of humor from the Gemara. Israel Davidson collected humorous pieces from throughout Jewish literature in chronological order, starting from Tanach and ending with Modern Hebrew literature[6].
A few articles discuss different aspects of humor in the Talmud, and there are some seforim that collect humorous pieces from the Gemara[7].  However, by far the most comprehensive discussion is that of Horowitz.
As mentioned, Lifshitz wrote an entire dissertation on the topic, running to 312 pages. He writes that the view that there isn’t a substantial amount of humor in earlier sources is mistaken. He feels that this mistake stems from the fact that there has been little research done on the subject of humor in the Gemara, which in turn stems from the fact that humor is looked at as lowly “leitzanus.” Therefore, the great amount of humor in the Gemara was ignored.
Critical Humor
One specific aspect of humor in the Gemara is critical humor[8]. Although not necessarily the best example of humor in the Gemara, this genre of humor caused some uncomfortableness[9], which I will also discuss.
Here are some Gemaras where critical humor is used, taken at random. (Translations are from Soncino, with slight changes[10].)
1  Kiddushin 79b[11]:
R’ Yosef son of R’ Menasia of Davil gave a practical ruling in accordance with Rav, whereupon Shmuel was offended and exclaimed, “For everyone [wisdom] is meted out in small measure, but for this scholar it was meted out in large measure!”
2) Yoma 76a[12]:
And it long ago happened that R’ Tarfon, R’ Yishmael and the elders were seated and occupied with the portion referring to the manna, and also R’ Eleazar of Modi’in commenced [to expound] and said: “The manna which came down unto Israel was sixty cubits high.” R’ Tarfon said to him: “Modite! How long will you rake words together to bring them up against us?” –He answered: “My master! I am expounding a Scriptural verse.”
Beitza 24a[13]:
3
R’ Yosef said in the name of R’ Yehuda in the name of Shmuel: “The halacha is as Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel”. Abbaye said to him: “The halacha is [etc.], from which it would follow that they [the Sages] dispute it!” –He said to him: “What practical difference does it make to you?” –He replied to him: “It should be for you as a song” [Rashi: “This is a parable of fools […] ‘Study!’ the student says to the fool: learn both truth and mistakes, and it will be for you as a song!”].
A famous responsum of the Chavos Yair, R’ Yair Chaim Bachrach, discusses the harsh language sometimes used by one Amora against another[14]. This tshuva was made famous by the Chafetz Chaim, who printed it at the beginning of his Chafetz Chaim.[15] The Chavos Yair is at great pains to show how each “insult” is in fact a subtle compliment. For example, he says that when R’ Sheshes says, as he often does, on a saying of Rav, “I say, Rav said this statement when he was sleeping,” that this is fact a display of R’ Sheshes’ great respect for Rav that he never could haved erred so easily. A more difficult kind of attack to explain is the “ad
hominem” attack, where one Amora attacks another Amora personally.
Interestingly, some want to say that these kinds of attacks are much more frequent in the Bavli than in the Yerushalmi. In a Hebrew article by Yisrael Ben-Shalom, “ואקח לי שני מקלות לאחד קראתי נעם ולאחד קראתי חבלים”[16], the author shows many instances of negative criticism by Chachamim in the Bavli that don’t appear in their parallels in the Yerushalmi. Recently, R’ Achikam Kashet has drawn up a long list of 82 basic differences between the Bavli and the Yerushalmi in his very impressive אמרי במערבא (n.p. 2010). This difference is number 53 (page 889)[17].
Later, the Ra’avad was one of the more harsh attackers. When he disagreed, he did so in very strong terms. In general, he was most harsh in his hassagos on the Razah. The following is one of the harsher attacks[18]:
הנה שם השם שקר בפיו וזאת עדות על כל שקריו ופחיזותיו אשר אסף רוח בחנפיו להנבא שקרים ולהתעות הפתיים והסכלים בעדיי אחרים אשר נתעטר בהם ספרי הסירוס אשר חיבר.
Closer to our own time, R’ Yitzchak Isaac Halevy, author of Dorot Harishonim, is famous for his harsh language he used against people he disagreed with. While in his magnum opus, Dorot Harishonim, this language is generally used against maskilim and non-Jews, his harshness was not limited to them. R’ Halevy’s biographer notes[19]:
While Halevy had his reasons which led him almost singlehandedly into battle against the foremost historians, he, in turn, became the target of a formidable list of critics […] Undoubtedly, Halevy’s sharp pen was an added factor that irked many to retaliate in kind. Halevy’s inordinate style of writing might have been a carryover from a number of classic rabbinical works […] Thus Halevy’s correspondence relating to his own followers at times was penned in a tone which was similar to that reserved for the targets of his ire in the Dorot Harishonim.
After discussing many sources in Chazal of negativity, Efrayim Elimelech Urbach writes that although in the Beis Medrash the Chachamim could be very harsh with each other, in the “real world” a big stress was put on talmidei chachamim looking out for each other, and on the respect that a talmid chacham deserves.[20]It seems clear that although internally there were strong disagreements, towards the outside, there was strong cohesiveness, and the less disagreement and strife exhibited in public, the better[21].  In other words, what goes on the Beis Midrash, stays in the Beis Midrash! In our own time, one of the controversial passages in R’ Natan Kamenetski’s Making of A Godol was the story of R’ Aharon Kotler calling a red-headed student who interrupted his shiur with a question “parah adumah.” Marc Shapiro, in one
of his recent posts
(paragraph 3), makes the same point: that certain off the cuff remarks were never meant to be publicized.
To end off on a
not-so-Purim-like note, I’d like to note a word of caution. In our own time, where recording devices are ubiquitous, talmidei chachamim must be far more careful about what they say and how they say it. Even if a talmid chacham says something in a setting where it is perfectly acceptable, such as in a “Beis Medrash”-like setting, with a recorder the statement can easily be spread outside these “walls.” We have reached a point where עין רואה ואזן שומעת, וכל מעשיך בספר נכתבין (Avos 2:1) is not
just true in Shamayim, but on Earth also.
[1] In a previous post on the Seforim Blog, Eliezer Brodt discussed some parodies from medieval times and on. Another previous
post
discussed some modern Purim parodies. Some of my favorite modern parodies are those by Moshe Koppel, a Professor of Computer Science in Bar-Ilan University, who has contributed to the Seforim Blog. Professor Kopple has produced a number of parodies of “pashkevillim.” (“Pashkevillim”—“broadsides” in English—are large notices stuck on walls in Chareidi neighborhoods,
especially in Meah Shearim. They are often polemical, and written in a flowery
Hebrew.) (For a review of the Valmadonna’s collection of broadsides see here). A sampling of these parodies, as well as an interview with Koppel, can be seen here. A parody of his about fundamentalist anti-science is a favorite of R’ Natan Slifkin.
[2] See the bibliography in Eli Yassif, The Hebrew Folktale, Bloomington 1999,  pg. 500 n. 96; see also the bibliography of the Encyclopedia Judaica article in the next footnote.
[3] Volume 9, pg. 590-599. It first appeared in the 1986-1987 Yearbook, one of the many yearbooks that were published as a supplement to the first edition of Encyclopedia Judaica.  I remember reading that the reason that there wasn’t an entry on “Humor” in the first edition of the Encyclopedia is because the editors couldn’t find someone someone qualified to write it. I could not find the source for this recently.
[4] ח”נ ביאליק, דברים שבעל פה, ספר ראשון, דביר, תל אביב תרצ”ה, עמ’ קמד. This quote and the next are taken from Lifshitz, Humor (see next footnote), pg. 11.
[5] דוד ליפשיץ, איפיונו ותיפקודו שההומור בתלמוד, חיבור לשם קבלת התואר דוקטור לפילוסופיה, רמת גן תשנ”ה. I have not read enough of the doctorate to get a feel for how good of a job he did. One major lack in this work is an index, especially since such a large amount of texts from the Talmud are quoted.  It is often difficult to find where a source is discussed.
[6] אפרים דוידזון, שחוק פינו, חולון תשל”ב. The layout is very similar to that of Bialik’s “Sefer Ha’agadah,” which Davidson was clearly influenced by. Many translations of passages from Aramaic to Hebrew are taken from Sefer Ha’agadah (with ascription).
[7] See, for example, בנימין יוסף פארקאש, עת לשחוק, הוסיאטין תרע”ד.
[8] These sources in the Gemara are brought by Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 158-183. See also a wide variety of sources in this vein which are brought and discussed by E.E Urbach in his Sages (Hebrew ed.), pg. 557- 564.
[9] R’ Yitzchak
Blau, at the beginning of a lecture entitled “Does the Talmud have a Sense of
Humor?” (available on YU Torah) only
mentions the following categories “play on words”; “slapstick”; “sharp lines”.
He does not mention critical humor, even though it is fairly common in the
Gemara, for obvious reasons. As an aside most of the lecture is not about the
Talmud and humor, but how someone should spend his free time. R’ Blau’s opinion
on the matter has caused some controversy, see Hirhurim blog here
and here.
[10] The Soncino translation is now available in the public domain, see Torah Musings blog here.
[11] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 160.
[12] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 165
[13] Lifshitz, Humor, pg. 172.
[14] Siman 152.
[15] In later editions of Chafetz Chaim, this addition is generally printed at the end.
[16] In דור לדור: משלהי תקופת
המקרא ועד חתימית התלמוד, ירושלים תשנ”ה, עמ’ 235-250.
[17] R’ Kashet made a similar list of basic characteristics (in Hebrew “לשיטתם”), this time with specific Tannaim and Amoraim, in his earlier, \just as impressive, קובץ יסודות וחקירות (Yerushalayim 2004). The issue of “Leshitasam” is a fascinating topic in its own right. Research into this topic only began in the mid-eighteenth century, especially with the publishing of R’ D.Z. Hoffman’s (German) Mar Samuel. This sefer/book caused a small storm \in its time.
[18] Quoted by
Twersky, Rabad of Posquierres, Cambridge 1962, pg. 121 n. 24. See
Twersky there for more such examples. For a list of hassagos of this sort in
the Ra’avad’s hassagos on Mishneh Torah, see Davidson, Moses Maimonides: The
Man and His Works,
Oxford 2005, in the chapter on Mishneh Torah.
[19] R’ Asher
Reichel, Isaac Halevy, New York 1969, pg. 64-65.
[20] Pg. 564
(idem, footnote 10).
[21] The Gemara
itself seems to say so explicitly. See the story in Sanhedrin 31a, where the
Gemara first brings a halacha regarding a member of a beis din that has just paskened:
תנו רבנן מניין לכשיצא לא יאמר הריני מזכה וחבירי מחייבין אבל מה אעשה שחבירי רבו עלי תלמוד לומר (ויקרא יט, טז) לא תלך רכיל בעמך ואומר (משלי יא, יג) הולך רכיל מגלה סוד
The Gemara then goes on to bring the following story:
ההוא תלמידא דנפיק עליה קלא דגלי מילתא דאיתמר בי מדרשא בתר עשרין ותרתין שנין אפקיה רב אמי מבי מדרשא אמר דין גלי רזיא:
It is not clear what the nature of the “secret” thing that had happened in the beis medrash was. Rashi simply says that the talmid
spoke lashon hara. It is possible that in the heated discussion in the beis medrash, someone had made an off the cuff remark that was not meant to be heard outside the walls of the beis medrash. When the talmid revealed what was said 22(!) years later, he was expelled from the beis medrash for his impropriety. Alternatively, it is possible that he had revealed some internal disagreement about a halacha that the Chachamim wanted to appear unanimous, similar to the case of the psak of a beis din brought before. Either way, the story proves our point.



A Review of “Alo Na’aleh”

A Review of “Alo Na’aleh”
הרב מרדכי ציון, ‘עלה נעלה: מענה לספר ויואל משה, תשובות מפי הרה”ג שלמה אבינר שליט”א’, בית אל תשע”ב, 278 עמודים
By Ezra Brand
The opinion of R’ Yoel Teitelbaum, better known as the Satmar Rebbe, opposing the State of Israel has recently received a resurgence of interest. With the shifting to the right of the Orthodox Jewish world in general, as well as attempts by some Israeli politicians to end Chareidi draft exemptions in particular, many Chareidim are now feeling sympathetic to the Satmar opinion. In any discussion online about Israel drafting Chareidim or cutting funding to yeshivas, there will always be one person commenting on the prescience of the Satmar Rebbe. I have heard that some people are using the Kahanist slogan in regard to this: “הרבי מסאטמאר צדק” (“The Satmar Rebbe was right”)! Therefore, the appearance of a book intended as a response to the Satmar opinion is timely[1].
Alo Na’aleh is a response to the Satmar Rebbe’s book, Vayo’el Moshe. To be more precise, it is a response to the first of the three parts of Vayo’el Moshe, which is titled “Ma’amar Shalosh Shevu’ot”. Alo Na’aleh is written by R’ Mordechai Tzion, in consultation with his Rebbe, R’ Shlomo Aviner[2]. It is published by Sifriyat Chava (ספריית חוה), the publishing house based in Beit El that publishes R’ Shlomo Aviner’s books. Vayo’el Moshe was published in 1961[3]. Although it might seem strange to write a response to a book so long after the book was originally published, the times seem to call for it.
There have been other attempted rebuttals to Vayo’el Moshe (including by R’ Aviner himself, see further), but Alo Na’aleh is probably the most comprehensive (though it is only on the “Ma’amar Shalosh Shevuos” part of Vayo’el Moshe). It is the most comprehensive both in the sheer amount of sources quoted, and in terms of the fact that every point made by Vayo’el Moshe is discussed and disputed (including the reason given by R’ Yoel for the title of his book!). Much of the earlier literature that responds to Vayo’el Moshe is quoted by Alo Na’aleh, but no bibliography is provided. I will therefore provide one here (including works not mentioned in Alo Na’aleh).
 
הרב חיים שרגא פייביל פראנק, בירור הלכה במעלת ומצות ישובה של ארץ ישראל : תולדות זאב, ירושלים      תשכ”ד (ומילואים ב’המעין’, טבת תשכ”ה) הרב מרדכי עטייה, סוד השבועה, ירושלים תשכ”ה הרב מנחם מנדל כשר, התקופה הגדולה, ירושלים תשכ”ט הרב רפאל קצנלנבויגן, ‘לא מרד אלא השבת גזילה לבעליו’, שערים, כ’ בסיון תשכ”ט הרב משה מונק, ‘שלושת השבועות’, שערים, ד’ בתמוז תשכ”ט הרב שמואל הכהן וינגרטן, השבעתי אתכם, ירושלים תשל”ו הרב חיים צימרמן, ‘בענין שלש שבועות’, תורה לישראל, ירושלים תשל”ח (available here) מחבר אונונימי, פוקח עוורים, ירושלים תשמ”ד[4] (available here) הרב שלמה אבינר, ‘שלא יעלו בחומה’, הלכות משיח לרמב”ם, ירושלים תשס”ג הרב יעקב זיסברג, ‘נפש עדה’, נחלת יעקב, ב, הרב ברכה תשס”ה הנותן ליעף כח: כ”ח קושיות על ויואל משה, הוצאת בני הישיבות (בעילום שם המחבר) הרב אברהם ווייס, מחנה החרדי, גליון 341 חוברת “בעית זמננו” (א:ד)
The beginning of the introduction is fascinating. It attempts to find an ultimately uncomfortable middle ground between attacking the Satmar Rebbe for his harsh anti-Zionism, and respecting him for his greatness in Torah. The introduction begins by bringing a Radvaz (Shu”t 4:187), which says that it is prohibited to degrade a talmid chacham, even if that talmid chacham is “making a mistake in the foundations of the religion” (במקור: תלמיד חכם הטועה בעיונו בדבר מעיקרי הדת)[5]. While the author states clearly that despite their differences of opinion he will still repect the Satmar Rebbe, there is a silent polemic against the Satmar Rebbe’s famously harsh attacks against his opponents.
The rest of the introduction of the book is gossipy. A string of juicy stories are told, portraying the negative attitude of various people toward Vayo’el Moshe. The book then gets down to business, responding to Vayo’el Moshe point by point.
Alo Na’aleh indeed lives up to its aspiration of pointing out the many (apparent) mistakes in “Ma’amar Shalosh Shevuos” of Vayo’el Moshe. The author even demonstrates that the Satmar Rebbe made some historical mistakes. For example, in the introduction of Vayo’el Moshe, the Satmar Rebbe explains why all the poskim didn’t bring the Three Oaths in their halacha seforim: “This issue of the awakening of a movement to transgress these oaths, we have not found from the days of Ben Koziba until the time of the Rambam, which is about a thousand years, and so too from the time of the Rambam until the days of Shabsai Tzvi, and so too, from after the time of Shabsai Tzvi until now in these generations. Therefore the poskim in all these generations did not see any need to explain this issue in their times.” Alo Na’aleh correctly points out (pg. 15) that there were many other attempts by Jews to rebel against non-Jew in the time period discussed by the Satmar Rebbe.
However, true to form, Alo Na’aleh attempts to defend the Satmar Rebbe. Before discussing a particularly egregious misreading of a source in Vayo’el Moshe, Alo Na’aleh (pg. 172-3) claims that the misreadings of the sources exhibited in Vayo’el Moshe don’t stem from actual mistakes by the Satmar Rebbe. Rather, the Satmar Rebbe was convinced that Zionism was a terrible calamity, and was willing to twist sources in order to convince people that it is wrong. In other words, the ends justify the means. Alo Na’aleh finds a source permitting such tactics in the well-known Gemara in Pesachim 112a, where it says that הרוצה ליחנק היתלה באילן גדול, explained by Rashi there to mean that one is permitted to falsely quote his Rebbe if he knows the halacha to be true, and he won’t be listened to otherwise. However, Alo Na’aleh limits this heter to polemical works such as Vayo’el Moshe.
 
While Alo Na’aleh does identify mistakes exhibited in Vayo’el Moshe, it has many flaws itself. It is often long-winded, bringing paragraphs from pro-Zionist authors having nothing to do with the issue at hand. In addition, there is a lack of consistency in the writing style, as entire articles, or pieces of articles, are brought down verbatim in the main body of the text, without any kind of indentation or other helpful citation. Besides for ruining the literary consistency, it can take an effort to know when the quotation ends. It is for these two reasons that Alo Na’aleh runs to a long 278 pages.
Another issue is the lack of clear organization in Alo Na’aleh.  Often, the text will give one response to Vayo’el Moshe, move on to a different response, then return to the first response without any warning. This can make it difficult to follow.
A good amount of research has gone into Alo Na’aleh, and the responses to the Satmar Rebbe are the most comprehensive to date. But it is a work marked by flaws: technical errors, a propensity to go off on tangents, and a lack of clarity in its argumentation. A respectable effort that falls short of its promise[6].
* I would like to thank Eliezer Brodt for reviewing this post, and my father for editing it.
[1] Although the Satmar Rebbe (meaning R’ Yoel, as opposed to his father)  wasn’t the first to attack Zionism based on (pseudo-) halachic sources, he was the one to have the biggest impact. For a short scholarly discussion of the Samar Rebbe’s opposition to Zionism (focusing on his interpretation of the Three Oaths), see יצחק קראוס, שלש השבועות כיסוד למשנתו האנטי-צונית של ר’ יואל טייטלבאום, עבודת גמר לתואר מוסמך בפילוסופיה יהודית, האוניברסיטה העיברית בבלטימור, תש”נ. A general history of discussion of the Three Oaths is given by Mordechai Breur: מרדכי ברויאר, ‘הדיון בשלוש השבועות
בדורות האחרונים’, גאולה ומדינה, ירושלים תשל”ט, עמ’ 49- 57. For a history of Eastern European Chareidi opposition to Zionism, see יוסף שלמון, ‘תגובת החרדים במזרח אירופה לציונות מדינית’, הציונות ומתנגדיה בעם היהודי, ירושלים
תש”נ, עמ’ 51- 73.
[2] R’ Tzion seems to claim at the end of his introduction (pg. 14) that the book basically consists of his writing down the responses of R’ Aviner; however, from R’ Aviner’s haskamah it is clear that the R’ Tzion had a much substantial part in the writing of the book.
[3] Shalmon (ibid., footnote 1), says that that was a second edition. I am not sure when the first edition was published, and what the difference was between the first and second editions.
[4] This book claims that a large part of Vayo’el Moshe was forged!
[5] The Radvaz proves this from the famous Gemara in Sanhedrin 99a, where R’ Hillel says that Mashiach will never come, since there was only a one-time chance in the time of Chizkiyahu Hamelech. R’ Yosef there responds to this statement of R’ Hillel by saying, “Hashem should forgive him” (שרי ליה מריה), and does not degrade him. As to whether R’ Hillel’s statement makes him a heretic, see Marc Shapiro’s Limits of Orthodox Theology. R’ Tzion on page 10 quotes a responsum from R’ Yehuda Hertzel Henkin, a grandson of R’ Yosef Eliyahu Henkin, that Chazal even refrained from degrading the famous heretic Elisha ben Avuyah (Shu”t B’nei Banim 2:34). With respect to R’ Henkin, I find this attitude of respect to one’s enemies he attributes to Chazal does not  fit in with hundreds of examples throughout the generations of Torah
leaders’ harshness to enemies and heretics. Even Elisha ben Avuyah was branded “Acher” (“The Other”) by Chazal, which is not the most respectful title.
[6] The most comprehensive discussion if the Three Oaths that is also well organized is נפש עדה in נחלת יעקב, mentioned earlier in the bibliography.



Was Avraham a Lamdan?

Was Avraham a Lamdan?
By Ezra Brand

I would like to thank Eliezer Brodt for reviewing this article and discussing it with me, and my father for editing this article.

Some time ago there was a discussion in cyberspace regarding whether the Avos kept all of the mitzvos. The discussion was started when a video on Youtube made fun of the idea, and a response to the video was published on the Hirhurim blog (here), as well as counter-response (here). I’d like to discuss some of the basic issues involved.

The Mishnah at the end of Kiddushin says that Avraham kept the whole Torah.[1] The Rambam (Hil. Melachim 9:1) brings down the mitzvos that each of the Avos innovated. Many laws are learned from the stories in Bereishis even though they happened before the giving of the Torah.[2]

However, Chazal do not discuss any of the questions arising from the statement that the Avos “kept the Torah.”[3] Here and there, the commentators discussed some of the more obvious questions. For example, the Ramban in his commentary on the Torah (Gen. 26:5) famously asks how Ya’akov could have married two sisters, something prohibited by the Torah. This question in particular seemed to have intrigued many commentators.

The later commentators discussed whether the Avos and their children had the status of Jews or non-Jews, since they lived before Matan Torah. This question is discussed extensively by the author of the Mishneh L’melech in his sefer P’rashas D’rachim. Later, this was discussed at length by R’ Yosef Engel in the first volume of the encyclopedia he started to write, called Beis Ha’otzar, under the entry “Avos.” An interesting question that was first posed by R’ Pinchas Horowitz, one of the rebbeim of the Chasam Sofer, in his commentary on the Torah, Panim Yafos, is the following: According to the opinion that the Avos were inherently non-Jews, how could they keep the whole Torah, which includes keeping Shabbos? We know that a non-Jew is prohibited from keeping Shabbos, so what did they do? Many ingenious answers are given to this question.[4]

A few hundred years ago, a popular method of learning was the “pilpul” method. In short, this method consisted of explaining difficult passages in the Gemara by connecting the passage under discussion with other seemingly unconnected passages of Gemara in other places. This style was not limited to Gemara, but was also used when explaining the Chumash. This method was attacked by R’ Yair Chaim Bachrach, author of the Chavos Yair, as well as by others.[5] In any case, in these seforim pilpul was used to answer questions on the Avos’s actions.[6] To quote the Encyclopedia Judaica (1st edition, Volume 13, entry “Pilpul,” pg. 527): “Criticism was much more lenient regarding the application of pilpul to the exposition of the Bible and the homiletic literature, since this was considered irrelevant to a true understanding of halakhah. Consequentially, popular preachers used to strain their imagination by adducing the most complicated talmudic passages and controversies in order to throw new light on a story from the Bible or the Midrash.”

In the past 150 years, literature on the attempted synthesis of the Torah Shebichsav (Written Torah) and the Torah Shebal Peh (Oral Torah) has exploded. This literature was meant to show that the explanations of Chazal, Torah Shebaal Peh, are in truth hinted to in the Torah Shebichsav itself. Originally, the reason for this was the attacks of the maskilim on the tradition of Torah Shebaal Peh. This led to the commentaries of R’ Shamshon Rephael Hirsch, the Malbim, the sefer Haksav V’Hakabbalah, and the sefer Meshech Chochma. In addition, many anthologies of the words of Chazal regarding the written Torah were collected and put in the order of the Torah. Examples of this include the sefer Torah Temimah, as well as the still-incomplete Torah Shleimah. [7]

However, these commentaries, in their comments on Sefer Bereishis, do not systematically try to harmonize the actions of the Avos with the accepted halachah.[8] This is somewhat surprising, since the point of their commentaries is to harmonize the Torah Shebichsav with the Torah Shebaal Peh, and this would seem to be a part of that job description.

With the contemporary stress in the yeshivos on the learning of Gemara to the exclusion of almost everything else (excluding perhaps mussar seforim), and the great stress on “lomdus”, some recent seforim have followed the trend of harmonizing Torah Shebichsav with Torah Shebaal Peh to the extreme. (Lomdus is an expression used in yeshivos to refer to the Brisk analytic-style of identifying and analyzing concepts. The Yiddish term reid is also used to mean the same thing.) These modern seforim will treat the possuk like a piece of Gemara, ignoring possible theological or philological explanations, and only answer using lomdus. This lomdus can be taken to such extremes that it is often very similar to the pilpul commentaries on the Torah of the 17th century. These seforim basically spend a long time trying to answer a question in any possible way, without trying to actually fit the explanation into the passuk in any way.

The sefer Chavatzeles Hasharon by R’ Mordechai Carlebach (on Bereishis, Yerushalayim 5765) is the most popular of this genre. This sefer essentially contains essays of lomdus based on the parshah, including many questions on the halachic acceptability of the Avos’s actions. Even more recently, the sefer Arugas Habosem by R’ Menachem Ben Yakov (on Bereishis and Shemos, Yerushalayim 5772) is almost an exact copy of Chavatzeles Hasharon, not only in content but also in the physical layout. A sefer by a nephew of R’ Shlomo Zalman Auerbach, R’ Baruch Rakovski, called Birchas Avos (Yerushalayim 5750), is completely devoted to questions on the Avos’s actions, as is the sefer Mili D’Avos (by R’ Shmuel Yaffah, Lakewood 5770).

Recently, seforim which collect divrei torah on the parshah from different sources have gained popularity.[9] One of the first of this genre is the Pardes Yosef (by R’ Yosef Pazanavski, incomplete, Bereishis, Piotrkow 5690, Shmos and Vayikra, Lodz 5697).[10] This was followed many years later by R’ Yisachar Rubin’s very popular Talelei Oros (10 volumes, Bnei Brak 5753-5757). Another sefer of this genre is K’motzei Shallal Rav, which collects divrei torah on the parshah from places one would normally not expect to find them, such as in introductions to a halachic works. Since these divrei torah are in the context of a halachic work, many times they are very halachically oriented. Hence, these divrei torah also fall into the category of trying to synthesize. Pilpula Charifta, by R’ Natan Margolis (on Bereshis, volume 1, Yerushalayim 5755, volume 2, Yerushalayim 5750), also collects divrei torah in the same manner.

Are these kinds of explanations part of the “Seventy Faces of Torah”? Do the authors of these explanations themselves think there is any truth to the explanations they are presenting? The author of the Klei Chemda writes in his introduction that much of what he wrote in the sefer is “לחדודי בעלמא”, to sharpen the mind. This idea comes from the Gemara, which says that sometimes teachers who say a false din in order to get their students thinking, and ultimately to correct them.[11]

I think that a similar question has to be asked on many Chassidic explanations, as well as the common “vort.” Did the authors of these explanations really think this was a possible explanation of the text? I think not. In fact, many times authors will write that their explanation is “בדרך צחות”. So why do they bother writing them? There are two possible explanations. First of all, even if the explanation is not true, the parts leading up to it are. (Assuming there is more than one part to the explanation.) The vort is a fun way to teach people the intermediate parts. In addition, they will be able to remember the intermediate parts more easily, since they are logically connected to an interesting end.[12] A second possible explanation for why the authors wrote such explanations is that there is an underlying moral message (assuming there is an underlying moral message). As with the first explanation, the vort is an enjoyable, and therefore effective, way of getting across a moral lesson.

Would a Chassidic Rebbe admit that his “Toyreh” is not the true explanation of the verse? That is a question that I cannot answer.[13]

[1] also Yoma 28b; Yerushalmi Kiddushin Perek 2 Halacha 12; Vayikra Rabbah 50:10; Tanchuma Lech L’cha 11; and many more places. See Encylopedia Talmudit, Volume 1, entry “אבות”, pg. 36-37.

[2] See Encylopedia Talmudit, Volume 1, entry “אין למדין מקודם מתן תורה”, pg. 635ff. However, see the Encyclopedia Talmudit ibid. that quotes the Yerushalmi that says that we don’t learn laws from stories of events that happened before the giving of the Torah. See Encyclopedia Talmudit ibid. for various attempted explanations.

[3] See Sanhedrin 58b where the Gemara discusses some of the marriages of the Avos in the context of discussing the laws of incest for b’nei no’ach. However, the laws of b’nei no’ach are far less than what a Jew must keep. The Gemara in Yoma (referenced in note 1) says that Avraham even kept rabbinically mandated laws.

[4] Regarding all this see Encyclopedia Talmudit referenced in note 1. See also Maharatz Chayes in Toras Hanevi’im, Chapter 11, pg. 63-72; Nefesh Hachaim, Sha’ar 1, Chapter 21; Leket Yosef (available here); Steven Wilf, The Law Before The Law, Lexington Books, 2008 (here).

[5] R’ Bachrach attacked the pilpul method in Shu”t Chavos Ya’ir, siman 123, and at length in an unpublished sefer of his called Ya’ir Nesiv. Parts of it were published by Jellenik in the journal Bikurim, Vienna 5624, pg. 4. Pilpul was also attacked by the Maharal and the Shelah. See also the ostensibly anonymous K’sav Yosher, published in 5544, pg. 9b, (here). It’s author was Saul Berlin of Besomim Rosh infamy.

[6] I’d like to point out at this point that much of what I will write also applies to the Jews after matan torah. There are many questions on how their actions fit with the commonly accepted halacha. However, I am mainly focusing here on the actions of the Avos. As for the actions of the Bnei Yisroel after matan torah, the Gemara discusses these questions in many places. Many times the answer of the Gemara is that the action was a hora’as sha’ah, i.e. a temporary waiver of the prohibition. See at length Encyclopedia Talmudit, Volume 8, entry “הוראת שעה”. R’ Yitzchok Halevy in his monumental Doros Harishonim, in the volume discussing Tanach and aimed at refuting the Bible Critics, tries to answer many of the questions of the maskilim on the Torah Shebaal Peh based on Tanach. Another sefer that I am aware of that discusses these questions is the commentary Mussar Hanevi’im, on Nevi’im Rishonim (by R’ Yehuda Leib Ginzburg, Volume 1, St. Louis 5705, Volume 2, Yerushalayim 5736, available here and here).

[7] Interestingly, a hundred years before the publishing of the Torah Temimah, R’ Dov Ber Treves, who was on the beis din of Vilna at the time of the Gra, also wrote a commentary on the Torah bringing down many of the saying of the Gemara in order of the Torah. In fact, the Torah Temimah was accused of plagiarizing from the Revid Hazahav. Another little known work of this sort is the Be’er Heiteiv (Vayikra, Vilna 5627), available here. The Chazon Ish writes on this workוראיתי להגאון האדיר ר’ אריה ממינסק בספרו באר היטב… (חזון איש, קדשים ס’ כו אות טז).

[8] They do, however, discuss these questions in many places, especially the Meshech Chochma. The Netziv in his commentary on the Torah, Ha’amek Davar, also incorporates much from Torah Sheba’al Peh, and answers questions on the Avos’s actions.

[9] There is a similar phenomenon of seforim collecting the different explanations of the commentators on the Talmud, such as Machon Yerushalayim’s Otzar Mefarshei HaTalmud, Frankel’s Mafte’ach, and many others.

[10] For a description of the Pardes Yosef, see an earlier post on the Seforim Blog here.

[11] Eiruvin 13a, and other places. This is one of the contexts in which it is permitted to lie. See R’ Yosef Chaim, Shu”t Torah Lishmah, siman 364, Yerushalayim 5736, pg. 250 s.v. ובגמרא דעירובין. R’ Yosef Chaim in that response collects all the places in which it is permitted to lie. Contrary to popular belief, it permitted to lie in far more than the three places the Gemara in Bava Metzia 23b says. One of the most surprising cases in which it is permitted to lie, is the following: If a person knows that a certain halacha is true, but because of his low standing in people’s eyes, when he says it, it will not be accepted, he is permitted to say that a certain gadol said that halacha, even if that gadol never said such a thing! See at least four examples of this in Torah Lishmah there (pg. 250, s.v. ובגמרא דשבת; ibid. s.v. עוד שם בדף נא; pg. 251. s.v. ובגמרא דפסחים; pg. 252, s.v. עוד שם בדף כ. This would seem to cause problems for the mesorah of Torah Shebaal Peh, and was in fact one of the maskilim’s questions on the veracity of the mesorah. See I.H. Weiss, Dor Dor V’Dorshov, Part 1, Chapter 1, pg. 4.

[12] This is similar to what the Rambam writes in the introduction to his Peirush Hamishnah (Mossad HaRav Kook edition pg. 10) regarding asmachtos. He writes that the Gemara never intended to to say that asmachtos are true explanations of the verse. Rather, the asmachta is a formula to help people remember the halacha, as in the times of Chazal it was prohibited to write Torah Shebaal Peh. This view is atacked harshly by the Ritva, Rosh Hashonoh 17a. See Encyclopedia Talmudit, Volume 2, entry “אסמכתא”, pg. 106, footnote 16 and 28.

[13] A possible nafkah minah (halachic ramification) is whether it is permitted to learn the explanation in the bathroom, where learning Torah is generally prohibited. However, this nafkah minah is mostly theoretical, because, as was pointed out, even if the explanation itself is not true, many times the constituent steps are Torah. See Yisroel Bazenson, Messilat Hak’sharim (Tel Aviv 5766), (this sefer is written by a follower of Breslov and attempts to formulate “rules” for learning Likutei Moharan) pg. 153, where the author asks this question regarding the teachings of R’ Nachman of Breslov; he points out that many times R’ Nachman’s explanations even go so far as to contradict the simple meaning of the phrase he is coming to explain. Bazenson answers:

ברוב הפסוקים ומאמרי חז”ל שהוא שהוא מפרש על פי דרכו הפנימית , לאף שנראה כמשנה או אפילו כסותר הפירוש הרגיל , אם יזגה המעיין ישיג את המקום שבו שני הפירושים מתחברים ועולים בקנה אחד. ואז הפירוש הרגיל יקבל, כתוצאה מחיבור זה, תוספת בהירות שמעולם לא היתה לו.

Bazenson then goes on to bring three examples of such places in Likutei Moharan, and attempts to show how in fact the nistar complements the nigleh. (I would like to thank Eliezer Shore for pointing out this source to me.) I have not studied his explanations in depth to see if they are convincing.




Satmar From As Seen By An Insider: A Review of the New English Biography of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe

Satmar From As Seen By An Insider: A Review of the New English Biography of Rabbi Yoel Teitelbaum, the Satmar Rebbe
by Ezra Brand

I recently bought the new biography of the Satmar Rebbe, called “The Rebbe. The Extraordinary Life & Worldview of Rabbeinu Yoel Teitelbaum. The Satmar Rebbe זי”ע”, by Rabbi Dovid Meisels (Canada 2011, distributed by Israel Book Shop). Rabbi Meisels is related to Rabbi Teitelbaum, and a staunch Satmar chossid, so you can be sure that the views espoused in the book are Satmar’s true opinions. I also recently bought Solomon Poll’s classic study if chassidim in Williamsburg in the 1950’s, during which Rabbi Meisel’s book is also mostly set. It was interesting comparing the two very different views–that of a Satmar chossid looking back at those times, and that of a contemporary secular scholar like Poll. (See also an interesting review, and comments on it, here.)
The book discusses many opinions of the Rebbe. Besides for his famous anti-Zionist opinion, the book discusses such sundry topics as the required height of the mechitza in shul, metzitza b’peh, television, derech halimud, mikvaos,tznius (married women wearing sheitels, married women shaving their hair, women required to wear thick stockings—at least 90 denier), and the times for beginning and end of shabbos. It is somewhat surprising that the book doesn’t mention the Rebbe’s famous opinion that a boy and a girl shouldn’t meet more than two or three times before getting engaged. On pg. 364 the book does mention the Rebbe’s opposition to “the chosson spend[ing] time with the kallah before and after the engagement,” but no mention is made of how many times the Rebbe held the boy and girl should meet. There is a famous story told, that Reb Moshe Bick, a prominent chassidishe posek in the Bronx, decided that boys and girls should meet at least ten times before getting married. He felt that America was different than Europe, and too many divorces were happening because of improper matches. The Rebbe was strongly opposed to this. Reb Moshe Bick explained that the difference of opinion stemmed from the fact that he was a mesader gittin, while the Rebbe was a mesader kiddushin!
Almost no sources other than Satmar publications are listed as sources. These Satmar sources are listed at the end of the book in the “Bibliography;” there are about thirty or so. The only non-Satmar sources I found were “A Concise History of Agudath Israel” (pg. 97), “Uvdos Vehanhagos Leveis Brisk” (pg. 137) (basically Satmar!), “Hamodia” (pg. 220), and “Rav Shach Speaks” (pg. 528). However, it is a breath of fresh air to see at least some sources listed; most heimishe publication until now have opted to leave them out.
The book is notable in that it is very politically incorrect. It doesn’t beat around the bush when it confronts Reb Yoel’s opinion on Zionism. Reb Yoel was famously extremely anti-Zionist—as are both camps of Satmar today—and Rabbi Meisels emotively explains the basis of his opinion. Of course, there are a lot of polemics, such as the story on page 313, where Rabbi Meisels writes:
Indeed, one measure of the impact of Vayoel Moshe is that whatever books the Zionists have since published purporting to refute it (notably Hatekufah Hagedolah and Nefesh Adah) have not been taken seriously in the general Torah world. To this day, no serious mainstream work has been written to refute Vayoel Moshe. Even those rabbis who continue to advocate voting in the Zionist elections use the terms “eis laasos” and “aveirah lishmah,” indicating that at least in theory they agree with the central concepts of Vayoel Moshe.

Notice that the all-inclusive term “Zionists” is used, without even using the word “rabbis,” even though the authors of the “Zionist books” cited were undoubtedly great Talmidei Chachomim. This pattern of not giving those who hold of Zionism any titles of respect holds true throughout the book. For example, on page 294, Rabbi Yehuda Leib Maimon, the founder of Mossad Harav Kook, is referred to as “Yehuda Leib Maimon.” It is therefore somewhat surprising that on page 317, the Minister of Religious Affairs is referred to as “Rabbi Yaakov Moshe Toledano.” Maybe only Sefardim are allowed to be Zionists!
On pg. 178, the book says about the Satmar newspaper, Der Yid: “The policy of Der Yid was that whenever the State of Israel (Medinas Yisroel) was mentioned, the word “Yisroel” was placed in quotation marks to show that Torah Jewry, the true Israel, did not recognize the Zionists’ right to use their name.” (Notice “Torah Jewry,” not just Satmar.) This is followed by Rabbi Meisels himself, such as on pg. 249 (“…State of “Israel.” “). Usually, just the term “Zionist state” is used (e.g., on pg. 247). It is surprising that on pg. 523 the book mention “[t]he Israeli authorities.” I am sure this oversight will be corrected in future editions.
Throughout the book, the author hints to the Satmar opinion that kiruv rechokim is problematic. On page 13 he writes: “One of the secrets of the Rebbe’s success is that he never tried to perfect all of American Jewry and bring it into his fold. Instead, he worked hard to keep himself and his own community, which was mostly made up of post-War immigrants, unscathed.” Satmar is famous for disagreeing with Lubavitch on this point, however this disagreement is never stated explicitly. Rather, the author says that this is why Rabbonim before the War were not successful in planting Yiddishkeit in America (page 150): “A certain writer wrote that he heard from the Rebbe in 1955, ‘Why was I more successful in planting Torah in America than all the other gedolim who tried? Because they took in too much, they wanted to make the whole America good. In order to reach people, they had to make compromises. But I realized that Yiddishkeit can only grow if you plant perfect seeds. It doesn’t grow from compromises.” This completely ignores the fact that the Satmar Rebbe was working with people who had relatively recently been forcibly plucked from their homes in Hungary, straight into Williamsburg. On the other hand, earlier Rabbonim were dealing with people who had willingly left their very religious hometowns in Eastern Europe to go to America, a much more secular country. In addition, some of the American Jews had been in America for decades, and had gotten used to the freedom of acting how they pleased, without operating within the very strict confines of the Chassidic community. On pg. 515, the book discusses the Rebbe’s opposition to Lubavitcher chassidim putting tefillin on secular Israeli soldiers, based on halachic problems. Impressively, the book quotes the Lubavitchers answer back, albeit with a rejoinder.
For some reason, the Rebbe did not like the chassidim in Borough Park. This is despite the fact that there were also Satmar chassidim in Borough Park. On pg. 400 and pg. 429 derogatory remarks said about Borough Park by the Rebbe are recounted.
Very harsh words are quoted from the Rebbe about the Lithuanian derech halimud. On pg. 457, he is quoted to have said, in response to why bochurim in Litvish yeshivas “undeniably” learn with more enthusiasm and hasmadah than the Satmar bochurim: “…Here too, there is no truth in the ‘belly logic’ (boich svaros) used in these yeshivas. It’s all their own made up ideas, and it’s fun for them to think about ideas that they themselves made up.” And again: “Their style is not more than three generations old. They created it in order to save the younger generation from the Haskalah. It’s a totally new derech. We see that not one halachic authority came out from them. There is one of them who paskens shailos, and he wreaks terrible destruction. It’s a totally new derech, and it’s not Toras Emes.” The Rebbe isn’t exactly the open-minded or “eilu ve’eilu divrei elokim chaim” type. I’m curious to know which specific posek he was referring to that he feels “wreaks terrible destruction.” It shouldn’t be too hard to figure out, because he is the only Lithuanian who paskens! I’m assuming he meant Reb Moshe Feinstein, with whom the Rebbe had many halachic/ ideological disputes.
An interesting story is told on pg. 474. One of the founding parents of “Bais Ruchel”– the Satmar girls’ school—came to the Rebbe with a complaint. “He [had] discovered that the teacher had instructed the girls to write the Hebrew words “Ani ohev es habeged (I love the garment) as writing practice.” Now, you might think the parent had a complaint that the sentence is grammatically incorrect. A girl writing this sentence should write “ani oheves es habeged.” Or, he complained that his daughter shouldn’t be taught to love her clothing, but rather Hashem. But no. His complaint is: “The Rebbe founded a girls’ school to raise a new generation of girls like our mothers and grandmothers in Europe. Now I see that my daughter brought home a notebook in which she wrote ‘Ani ohev es habeged.’ The Rebbetzin argues that the girls can’t be so ignorant; they are allowed to understand what they are saying when they daven. I had a grandmother who passed away at 103, and she knew the entire Tehillim and Maamados by heart. But she didn’t understand what she was saying. That’s how our children should grow up as well.” The Rebbe said to his rebbetzin: “ ‘He’s right!’ “ In other words, this man’s grandmother had lived to such a ripe old age because she didn’t know the words she was saying! Rather, they should be some magical formula not to be understood.
The book discusses at relative length the process of founding “Kiryas Yoel.” On pg. 528, we read that “[a] Yekke from Washington Heights, who agreed with the Rebbe’s views on many issues, wanted to move to the new town. The Rebbe invited him, ‘Bring another nine Ashkenazim with you, and you can start your own minyan in Kiryas Yoel.” I wonder who this “Yekke” was., and how long he would have lasted among the thousands of chassidim in Kiryas Yoel!
On pg. 45, R’ Meisels bring the famous myth that the town “Satmar” in Hungary is named after St. Mary. He writes: “The Rebbe never pronounced the name Satmar, since it is the name of avodah zarah. Instead he would say ‘Sakmar.’ This pronunciation was also customary in Tzanz.” Throughout the book, when the Rebbe himself mentions the name “Satmar,” “Sakmar” is used instead. In truth, “Satmar” is a combination of the Latin word “Sattu,” meaning village, and the Romanian word “Mare,” meaning large. (See the beginning of the Wikipedia article on Satmar here.)
Something that I felt was lacking was any sign of Yiddish whatsoever. The Satmar Rebbe was known as a smart person, and the book brings a nice amount of stories that contain the Rebbe’s witticisms. I enjoy seeing the actual expression used, and since the Rebbe only spoke Yiddish, as the book says on pg. 26, the Rebbe obviously said whatever he said in Yiddish. Most such biographies quote the exact expression, and then translate. Possibly, Rabbi Meisels didn’t use any English lehavdil bein kodesh lechol. I’ll explain. On pg. 13, R’ Meisels writes that he really shouldn’t be writing the book in English, since the Rebbe was against the use of English “as a medium of speaking and reading within the Jewish community.” But since there were many outside of Satmar who were interested in the life of the Rebbe, the decision was reached to write a book in English. On pg. 488, R’ Meisels writes with pride that in the Satmar summer camps, for two months the campers “did not even hear a single English word.” I guess once the decision was reached not to use Yiddish, Yiddish could never be used!
Some surprising stories are told about talmidei chachamim, which seem to be against halacha:
1) On pg. 144, R’ Meisels talks about how after the Rebbe came to America from Israel in 1946, R’ Michoel Ber Weissmandel (Rosh Yeshiva of Nitra Yeshiva in Mount Kisco) wanted to make sure he wouldn’t return to Israel. He therefore took the Rebbe’s passport and ripped it up. What is the heter to destroy someone else’s passport just because you think he shouldn’t continue travelling?
2) The book speaks about how the Rebbe was “very particular not to use tainted or impure money” (pg. 187). It goes on to write that “[m]any times, they also witnessed him taking undesirable money and flushing it down the toilet.” Similarly, on pg. 190-191, it is told that after accepting a ten-dollar bill from “a man who was not properly observant,” the Rebbe “took that ten-dollar bill, rolled it up and began to use it to scratch his ears. Soon he tore off a piece, and continued to scratch his ears with the remainder. He tore off another piece, until the entire bill was gone.” First of all, didn’t all those people who gave the money give it to support charitable causes? Didn’t they want the zchus of their money being put to good use? If the Rebbe was planning on destroying the money, he should not have accepted the money in the first place. In addition, according to American law, it is illegal to destroy money. What happened to dina d’malchusa dina? However, it is possible that the Rebbe wasn’t aware that this was illegal.
3) On pg. 193-194, the book tells how the a man gave money to the Rebbe to pay his debts: “…As soon as the old man heard this, he brought the Rebbe 20,000 crowns. ‘Now you can go and pay your debts.’ “ Soon after, the Rebbe gave the money to a poor girl for her dowry. When the person who gave money to the Rebbe found out, he protested: “ ‘But I gave you the money only on condition that you would use it to pay your debts, not for tzedaka!’ the old chassid protested. The Rebbe replied: ‘The yetzer hara has already been arguing with me for quite some time, trying to convince me to stop giving tzedaka. And now you are arguing with me as well. Don’t worry, I will soon give you back your money.’ “ Here ends the story. The problem is, the halacha clearly states that if a person gives tzedaka with intentions that the money should be used for a specific purpose, the money cannot be used for any other purpose. See Rama; Yoreh De’ah 256:4; Shach ibid. s”k 10; Shulchan Aruch, Choshen Mishpat 125:1; ibid. se’if 5; ibid. se’if 6; ibid. se’if 7; Shach ibid. s”k 25. However, it is possible that the Rebbe thought that the donor wouldn’t mind. But if so, the book should speak that out.
On pg. 268, the book describes the tricks Neturei Karta used to make sure they would win control of the Eidah Hachareidis: “Shortly before the election, the Neturei Karta divided their candidates into two parties, Neturei Karta, under Reb Amram, and Mesores Vene’emanus, under Rabbi Eliyahu Nachum Porush. In the second party they placed candidates who were not so well-known. The goal was that some voters who did not support Neturei Karta would vote for this party and thus take away votes from Agudah.” This kind of book obviously doesn’t bring any stories about its allies which they feel were done wrongly. It is therefore surprising that the book describes these devious schemes were used to rig the election.
All in all, the book tells many interesting stories about the Satmar Rebbe. It also provides a good overview of the growth of Satmar in America from after the War until the 1970’s. However, some of the stories and views are a little extreme for the litvishe palette, and the book is very polemical in nature. However, this biography will be treasured for giving over a truly unique viewpoint of a gadol, a biography so different than other “heimeshe”, biographies.