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Non-Jewish Iconography in Hebrew Books

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As we have discussed on numerous occasions, Hebrew books contain a fair amount of non-Jewish iconography and imagery that is of non-Jewish origin.  See, for example, here, here, here and here.  Of course, Marvin Heller's article on Mars and Minerva appearing on Hebrew title pages, Marvin Heller, "Mars and Minerva on the Hebrew Title-Page," in Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America, 98:3, Sept. 2004, reprinted in Heller's collected articles Studies in the Making of the Early Hebrew Book (which will be reviewed separately in the very near future), is the starting point for much of this discussion. There is an article in this week's Jewish Press that also discusses this issue.  The article is available here. 

It is, however, worth noting a few things.  First, the article discusses the hare hunt motif that is found in various Jewish books, most notably in the Prague 1526 haggadah and the Mantua 1560 haggadah.  This illustration appears in manuscripts as well, and in the Darmstadt Haggadah, it is not a hare hunt but a deer hunt.  The deer, of course, is a more well known Jewish motif and thus would obviate the issue of representing Jews as a hare.  That said, it is unlikely that the deer hunt in the Darmstadt haggadah can be used to explain the hunting motif as it is likely that the illustrations in that haggadah are of non-Jewish origin.  Indeed, Gutmann notes that the illustrations accompanying this haggadah have no connection to the text and are likely non-Jewish. 

Additionally, it is worth noting,with regard to the Prague 1526 haggadah and its illustrations, there is a book that is devoted to explaining the history and meaning of the Prague 1526 haggadah, Charles Wengrov, Haggadah and Woodcut, Shulsinger Bros., New York, 1967.  Wengrov discusses all the illustration in this, seminal, haggadah.  Additionally, he discusses the history of the various woodcuts, both in their forms in the Prague haggadah as well as the motifs they employ.  Wengrov's discussions encompass both printed and manuscript haggadahs.

Returning to non-Jewish iconography, a most radical but intriguing theory related to this topic can be found in Ruth Mellinkoff, Antisemitic Hate Signs in Hebrew Illuminated Manuscripts from Medieval Germany, Center for Jewish Art -Hebrew University, Jerusalem, 1999.  Mellinkoff offers a completly different theory for the bird's heads in the famous Bird's Head Haggadah. Mellinkoff opines that in reality these are not bird's heads but bird's beaks on human heads.  Thus, she offers that the bird's beaks are substitutions for large or beak-like noses.  She explains that in reality these illustrations are the work of a non-Jewish illustrator who was attempting to subtly use well know anti-Semitic tropes like large noses and, in some illustrations, pigs ears.  See id. pp. 11-29, 35-37.  Aside from the Bird's Head Haggadah, Mellinkoff provides other Hebrew manuscripts that apparently have similar anti-Semitic signs as well. 



Review: The Schechter Haggadah: Art, History, and Commentary

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Book Review: The Schechter Haggadah: Art, History, and Commentary
by Elli Fischer
 Rabbi Elli Fischer is a freelance translator living in Modiin, Israel.  He maintains the “On the Contrary:Judasim with Comments Enabled ” blog.  This is his second contribution to the Seforim blog.
Given the thousands of haggadot that have been published over the years, and the dozens of new ones published each year, it is not easy for any single haggadah to separate itself from the others on the market. As a result, some new haggadot provide unique commentary, others contain innovative liturgy and practice, and still others resorts to gimmickry and humor to win adherents. Only rarely does a haggadah appear that is truly remarkable. The Schechter Haggadah: Art, History, and Commentary, by Dr, Joshua Kulp and Rabbi David Golinkin, is indeed a remarkable haggadah.
In truth, the title of this haggadah is a bit misleading, since the “history” is part of the “art” and the “commentary”, and not an independent section. The text is divided into three sections: the first contains the traditional Ashkenazic haggadah text, adorned with artwork from early, mostly manuscript, haggadot. The second section, authored by Rabbi Golinkin, is an expanded section on the artwork of the haggadah, containing 115 annotated illustrations (according to the authors; though I did not count, I did notice that there were a whole lot of pictures). The comments include basic metadata such as time and place of appearance and where the original illustration can now be found, as well as other historical curiosities pertaining to the particular illustration, the haggadah in which it appears, or artistic themes in the illustration of haggadot in general. The third section of this haggadah is Dr. Kulp’s commentary, in excess of 100 pages, which deconstructs the text of the haggadah and the seder practices, locating their original meanings in the earliest Jewish texts and tracing their development through Jewish history. The latter two sections are referenced by unobtrusive notes in the main text.
The first section is beautifully laid out and has good proportion. Since the commentary does not appear alongside the text, one is not distracted by it during the course of the seder. The artwork that appears in the first section contributes to the aesthetic experience without crowding out the main event. Dr. Kulp’s translation is very straightforward and readable.
The illustrations are beautiful and fascinating, and the commentary informative. It features thirty-seven different depictions of the “four sons”, demonstrating how they were perceived by different artists over close to a millennium of Jewish history. Other artistic elements contain a touch of humor, even if the contemporary reader does not share the same sense of humor. For example, in two portraits from 14th and 15th Century haggadot, a husband points at his wife during the recitation of “maror zeh” (“This bitter herb”). Unfortunately, Rabbi Golinkin fails to note the Biblical origin of this particular misogyny: Kohelet 7:26 (“and I find more bitter [mar] than death the woman”).
Dr. Kulp’s commentary is at its best when engaging in source criticism of the haggadah and its antecedents. In some cases (“the four sons”, “go and learn”) he juxtaposes several variations of the same element, taken from early rabbinic works such as the Sifri, the Talmud Yerushalmi, and early haggadot, demonstrates their significant differences, surveys scholarly work on the relationships between the texts, and offers his own summaries and conclusions regarding the evolution of that element of the haggadah. This type of study, which typifies academic Talmudic scholarship, does not generally appear in popular works. To his credit, Dr. Kulp does an admirable job explaining the process and conclusions of his analysis for the educated layman, though his writing style is occasionally awkward (e.g. “read for someone the Hallel” instead of “read the Hallel for someone”), and I noted a number of grammatical errors (especially a lack of commas) and typos (e.g. “Hillel” instead of “R. Yohanan” on p. 258).
In general, the commentary section is structured as a series of sections, varying in size, that trace the origins of the seder and the haggadah. Virtually every standard practice and text is addressed, some more thoroughly and convincingly than others. The primary sources that Dr. Kulp uses are the Talmudim, Mishna, Tosefta, Tannaitic Midrashim, and haggadot from the Geonic era, from both Babylonia and Eretz Yisrael. However, he occasionally refers to other early sources such as apocryphal works, Greco-Roman writings, early Christian writings, Josephus, and Philo; haggadot from the times of the Rishonim and early Acharonim; and standard halakhic codes.
These sections, for the reader and teacher, constitute the best of what this haggadah offers. Each is akin to an individual lesson on a particular aspect of the haggadah or seder, tracing it from its origins to standard practice. For example, with regard to the four cups of wine, he begins with the Tosefta (Pesachim 10:1) instructing charity bursars to provide poor people with four cups of wine for Pesach night. Working of Professor Shamma Friedman’s theory that the Tosefta predates the Mishna, at least in part, he discerns that the number four was originally a somewhat arbitrary number that was deemed appropriate for the Pesach-night symposium. Later, in the Mishna, the four cups were formally arranged as the framework for the seder meal. Finally, midrashim sprang up to account for the significance of the number four on the night of Pesach. This evolutionary process sees the wine transformed from a vehicle of celebration into a ritual and symbolic act, a process that Dr. Kulp notes over and over again as practices that originated in a Greco-Roman context (dipping, reclining, etc.) are transferred into new cultural settings.
Nevertheless, Dr. Kulp’s explanations for the various texts and performances are not always convincing. For example, he does not really offer an explanation for the composition of the “Ha Lachma Anya” paragraph or for the introduction of the Mishna about Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya (though in both cases he argues against reading them as anti-Christian polemics). With regard to Rabbi Yehuda’s mnemonic, he demonstrates that it is an early source, but does not address why such a mnemonic would need to be developed in the first place (indeed, the Gaon of Vilna [Likkutim at the end of Seder Zeraim] argues that the original context of the mnemonic is as an inscription on Moshe’s staff, and was only imported into the hagaddah at a later date; see also p. 24 of R. Hayim Hischenson’s Motza’ei Mayim, here).
His reading of the midrashim contained within the “go and learn” often miss obvious textual points. For example, he asks, “why is cattle-plague singled out as the plague through which God took the Israelites out of Egypt?” He fails to note that the midrash in question intertextually links the “strong hand” of Deuteronomy 26:8 with the “hand of the Lord” of Exodus 9:3. The same can be said of the “portents” of Joel 3:3 and the same verse in Deuteronomy, about which he asks a similar question. He interprets the midrash on “u-vemorah gadol” as being based on a tradition that “morah” means “vision” and not “terribleness”. If that would be the case, however, then the prooftext cited (Deut. 4:34) is superfluous, as the “revelation of the Divine Presence” can be adduced without the prooftext. Rather, the exegetical nub seems to derive from the final phrase of the prooftext: “just as you saw the Lord your God do for you in Egypt, before your eyes”. As a rule, he does not discuss these midrashim as exegesis and tends to neglect the intertextual elements of these midrashim. While not a fatal flaw, an opportunity to more fully explore the nature of rabbinic exegesis is missed.
Another example of where Dr. Kulp misses a fairly straightforward explanation for the flow of the haggadah pertains to the division of Hallel. He writes: “It seems to me that dividing the Hallel into two portions was meant to highlight the centrality of the pesah sacrifice, perhaps in a similar way that reciting a blessing before and after food sanctifies the food”. Later in the same section, when discussing differing practices regarding the recitation of a bracha before Hallel, he writes that “we recite the Hallel at seder [sic] because the Exodus was miraculous… In contrast, in Babylonia they thought that the Hallel was recited in connection with the pesah sacrifice and hence they considered its significance to be diminished when the sacrifice could not be offered.” While it is hard to deny the difference between Eretz Yisraeli and Babylonian customs surrounding the recitation of Hallel, Dr. Kulp misses the main transitional link that mandates the recitation of Hallel, or at least part of it, at the end of the recounting of the Exodus. The transitional paragraph (imported into the haggadah from the Mishnah) states: “Therefore it is our duty of thank, praise (le-hallel), laud, glorify…the One who made all these miracles for us…Let us say before Him, ‘Hallelujah!'”. In other words, the recounting generates the duty to give praise, and it would be inappropriate to conclude the retelling without some words of praise. This approach is borne out by linking the latter part of Mishna Pesachim 10:5 with 10:6.
These examples all seem to flow from a single, overarching issue. Dr. Kulp tends to atomize the different parts of the haggadah rather than viewing them as part of a single structure or relating to a single theme. He states as much explicitly (p. 230): “we should be extra cautious of detecting editorial intention in the sum of the Haggadah’s texts. In my opinion it is extraordinarily difficult to speak of the ‘intention of the Haggadah.'” While I understand his caution, and agree that it is impossible to speak of a single editorial intention, there is no doubt that at each stage, with the inclusion or alteration of each new text, someone, somewhere, felt that a particular text fit with the overall theme or structure of the haggadah; the chaos is more controlled than Dr. Kulp would have us believe.
I hope that these last few paragraphs to not convey the wrong message; the Schechter Haggadah is a beautiful as well as excellent work of scholarship. Had I included every one of my criticisms, kal va-chomer everything that I liked, this review would have been far longer than it already is. In particular, the commentary has deepened my understanding of the evolution of the haggadah, and for one who is not familiar with source critical methodology, this haggadah can be transformative. My recommendation for readers of this haggadah would be to go through it before the seder: there is simply too much to digest, and the issues are often simply too technical, to be appropriate fare for the seder itself. Additionally, this haggadah is a fantastic resource for educators to teach the haggadah. Dr. Kulp’s commentary evolved from a series of classes that he gave, and it consequently is structured in a manner that is easily adaptable to a classroom setting (as my wife can readily attest).
Chag Kasher ve-Sameach!



A Conspiracy Theory To Explain A Racy Title Page

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We have discussed on multiple occasions the use of illustration of nudes to adorn the title pages of Hebrew books. It appears, again as we have seen before, that even though the appearance of such illustrations are really unremarkable, some will go to great lengths to either expunge or, in this case, explain away the appearance of such illustrations. In the April, 2008, Jerusalem Judaica auction catalog (provided below) they have a rather rare work of R. Yitzhak Hiyut (c. 1538- c.1610). [For biographical information on R. Yitzhak see Yaakov Elbaum, Pituchut Ve-HaSegirut, Jerusalem, 1990, p. 23 n.36.] This small book, some 18 pages, is comprised of R. Hiyut’s sermon he gave on the first day of Passover in 1589. The editors of the catalog attempt to deal with the two nudes depicting Adam and Eve [the illustration of Eve is very similar to the one of Eve that appears in the Levush and the Prague Haggadah ] that appear on the title page. They explain

“that this ‘Sermon’ was [perhaps] printed on the intermediate days of Passover by gentile print workers. They allowed themselves to place immodest engravings on the title page. The print owner did not supervise their work on these intermediate days of the holiday. They chose the images of Adam and Eve with the apple of the evil inclination in their hands.”

Thus, according to the catalog editors, the appearance of these illustration is due is basically an error, or if you wish, a rather interesting conspiracy theory.

Now, obviously, it is impossible to prove the negative, that is we have no way of saying 100% the above scenario did not happen, but I think at the very least we can show it is unlikely. First, perhaps the most straightforward item is that we have seen such illustration are not an anomaly – I have provided below one such illustration that appears on the title page of the 1577 edition of the Shulchan Orach.

Second, we are aware of cases of printing that did take place on either Shabbat or Yom Tov. The eminent bibliophile, Abraham Yaari, provides a list of such books. See A. Yaari, Mehkerei Sefer, Jerusalem, 1958, pp. 170-78. The method he employees in deciding which books were published on Shabbat or Yom Tov, is not conjecture. Instead, when a book was published when Jews were unable to oversee the printing, there was a much bigger problem than the title page illustration. When non-Jews printed without the aid of Jews, as one would imagine, the book was then subject to many typographical errors as the non-Jews, for the most part, could not read or understand Hebrew. Thus, typically, there would be a disclaimer somewhere in the book stating that there maybe such errors due to lack of Jewish supervision. In the case of this book of Derashot, there is no such disclaimer.

Finally, the entire assumption is highly questionable. That is, according to some one is allowed to print books on the intermediate days of a holiday. Famously, R. Yosef Karo’s maggid explicitly tells R. Karo that he must write down what the maggid tells him even on the intermediate days. (For other illustration and a discussion of the above, in Hebrew, see here.)

Shulchan Orach, 1577 edition


Machnesi Rachamim – Praying to Angels

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For those interested in the topic of the permissibility of praying to angels and the controversy surrounding this topic see the post on Machnesi Rachamim and Plagiarism which has been updated a bit and now includes some interesting scans. One scan in particular, the title page, is a case of a very elaborate and somewhat unique illustrated title page. In the next couple of days I hope to return to this topic and debunk a popular explanation regarding a well-known illustrated title page.


Rabbinic Portraits

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There is a discussion on the always-wonderful-blog On The Main Line regarding a portrait attributed to Rashi. Someone MENACHEM BUTLER raised the well-known collection of famous Rabbinic personalities which appeared on an edition of the Shulhan Arukh. The edition to which they are referring to is the Shulhan Arukh printed in Mantua in 1721-23. This edition includes the standard commentaries as well as the commentary of R. Gur Areyeh Finzi (d. 1753). On the title page Finzi (or the printer) included Rabbis in the Shulhan Arukh, R. Karo, R. Isserles, and Rabbis whose works form the basis of the Shulhan Arukh (although not all) – Rashi, Rambam, and Maharil, as well as R. Finzi’s portrait. As you can see below these are not the most flattering portraits done (that of course doesn’t speak to whether they are correct, although it is unlikely that one could produce a portait in some cases hundred of years after the death of a person) it appears some were offended at the way in which they were depicted. Thus, these appear only on the title page for Orah Hayyim but not the other volumes. The same background was used, the gate, just the portraits are absent. Additionally, it is worth pointing out that some focus on the depiction of the Rambam for whether he had peyos as it seems in this portrait he may have (either that or long hair).

Title page of the Shulhan Arukh with the Commentary of the Gur Areyeh, Mantau, 1721



Haggadah and the Mingling of the Sexes

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I have previously attempted to highlight some of the intricacies and history of illustration in haggadahs. While many of the illustrations which appear in the haggadah are directly related to the text of the haggadah, some also pre-date the haggadah and seder service. That is, although searching for hametz (leaven) happens the night prior to the seder service many times an illustration of cleaning out the hametz and, in turn, searching for it, appears in many haggadahs. Another such illustration is that of the matzo making. There are five basic steps in this process, mixing the flour and water, kneading the dough, rolling out the dough, putting little holes in the dough, and then actually baking it. In the Mantau, 1560 haggadah, an illustration presenting all these steps appears. As you can see, to the far left the process begins with the mixing of the flour and water. This continues through the far right, where the matzo is being put (taken out?) of the oven. An interesting facet of this illustration is the combination of the sexes. That is, both men and women are involved in this process. If one looks closely, (you can click on any of the pages below for a larger image) at the baking stage, a man and a woman are actually jointly operating the oven.Mantua, 1560
This mixing of the sexes was actually highlighted in the next edition which used this illustrations. In the Mantau, 1568 haggadah the same illustration appears. In this edition, however, there is one addition which does not appear in the original. On top of the illustration appears a legend. It says, “צורת אנשים המסרקים ונשים עשות חלות זקנים עם נערים בחורים גם בתולות” “this is an illustration of the men making holes [in the matzo] and the women rolling the dough, the old with the young, both the bachelors and the virgins [unmarried women]” Mantua, 1568
The editors of this edition felt that the inclusion of the sexes in this mitzvah, was a fulfillment of the verse from Psalms 148:12 “the old with the young, both the bachelors and the virgins.” Thus, the combination of a man and a woman at the oven may actually be by design to further highlight this point. It is worthwhile to note that in the Venice, 1609 haggadah, although the same basic illustration appears (the clothing worn is updated) there is no longer a woman at the oven. It is unclear whether this was intentional or not. Venice, 1609
It is not a minor point that the editors of the Mantau, 1568 haggadah used this verse to explain the mixing of the sexes. The interpretation of this verse and specifically the use to justify the mixing of the sexes is the subject of some controversy. R. Yosef Steinhardt [1] (1705-1776) records that soon after he became the Rabbi of a town in Alsace it was brought to his attention that it was “customary” to have mixed dancing on the Holidays. The only restriction on the mixed dancing was a government tax was required to engage in mixed dancing. R. Steinhardt, however, refused to allow for the dancing to proceed. As the government lost some of its revenue he was called to account for his actions. In an effort to convince the official of the correctness of his decision to prohibit mixed dancing, he appealed to the Bible. R. Steinhardt noted that the official was also fluent in the Bible and thus it was appropriate to use in this instance. He cited the verse in Jeremiah 31:13 “Then shall the virgin rejoice in the dance, and the young men and the old together.” He noted that it only says the young men and old engaged in dance together but not the virgin. He went on to cite other verses as well. Although he does not cite the above verse from Psalms, one can safely assume that he would explain this verse in a similar fashion to that of the verse in Jeremiah. Namely, it doesn’t state explicitly that the men and women were together only that they both took part in the praise of god. NOTE:
[1] Shu”t Zikrhon Yosef, Fuerth, 1773, O.H. no. 17, it can also be found in Mishna Berura, Biur Halacha, no. 339. This work also contains an interesting introduction. He quotes his wife, Kreindal, who offered the well-known explanation as to why Yosef lost 10 years of his life for listening to his brothers referring to his father, Ya’akov, as Yosef’s master. For each time Yosef heard this inappropriate title used, he lost a year of his life. But, in the Torah, this title only appears five times. Kreindal explained that as Yosef, to keep the charade that he did not understand his brothers, used an interpreter, Yosef heard and understood it ten times, five times from his brothers and five from the interpreter.

Additionally, the introduction to the Shu’T Zikrhon Yosef is also well known for his scathing comments about Hassidim. According to most auction catalogs, this introduction was ripped out by Hassidim. But, in every edition that I have seen, and every time it has come up for auction it always includes the introduction leading one to question whether this is merely apocryphal.