1. The Chief Rabbinate of Israel declared swordfish to be kosher, and in a 1960 responsum R. Isser Yehudah Unterman defended this ruling. In response to R. Moshe Tendler’s objection, Unterman reaffirmed its kosher status.[14] It is likely that the widespread assumption that swordfish is not kosher can be traced to Tendler’s successful efforts in this regard. Today, who even remembers the that swordfish used to be kosher?

2. There was a great rav in Boston named Mordechai Savitsky. To a certain extent he was an adversary of the Rav and was one those tragic figures in American Orthodoxy. His Torah knowledge was the equal of any of the outstanding Roshei Yeshiva who became so popular, but he was never able to find his place. He publicly declared – and in his Shabbat ha-Gadol derashah no less – that swordfish is kosher.

These two points are enough to show that the issue of swordfish is anything but settled, and is certainly not an Orthodox-Conservative issue. Zivotofsky’s article will be quite illuminating in this regard.

Notes:
[1] See The Limits of Orthodox Theology, Preface.
[2] Mehkerei Talmud 2 (1993), 255 n. 196.
[3]”R. Yaakov Lipshitz and Heter Mechirah,” the Seforim blog (October 11, 2007), available here.
[4] In an effort to keep far away from non-Jewish names, many people who are named מיכאל spell it as Michoel. I have even seen Mecheol. Certainly, no one today in the haredi world who has the name משה would write his English name as Moses, as is found on R. Moshe Feinstein’s stationery.
[5] See here at note 8.
[6] See Bazalel Naor, Post-Sabbatian Sabbatianism: Study of an Underground Messianic Movement (Spring Valley, 1999), 38; Marvin Heller, “David ben Aryeh Leib of Lida and his Migdal David: Accusations of Plagiarism in Eighteenth Century Amsterdam,” Shofar 19 (Winter 2001): 117-128.
[7] Yet can they live with a well-known contemporary rabbi who not only falsified a book he worked on, but has ignored a series of summons to a beit din? See here (and here) for more. Since the censorship and forgery he engaged in are directed against Chabad, it is possible that in his mind he has done no wrong. He probably also assumes that a Chabad beit din is not valid, and therefore he can ignore it.
[8] “Leshonot ha-Meiri she-Nikhtevu li-Teshuvat ha-Minim,” Tzefunot 1 (5749): 65-72.
[9] In my forthcoming book, Studies in Maimonides and His Interpreters (University of Scranton, 2008), I give examples of some of the problems. The book should appear in another few months.
[10] “Le-Mashmaut ha-Bituyim: Kiddush Hodesh, Birkat Levanah, Kiddush Levanah,” Sidra 22 (2007): 185-200.
[11] For other forgeries in Auerbach’s Eshkol, see Louis Ginzberg, Perushim ve-Hiddushim Birushalmi, vol. 1, Introduction, p. 84, and vol. 4, p. 6. I owe these references to the anonymous scholar.
[12] Noda bi-Yehudah, Yoreh Deah, tinyana, no. 28.
[13] See Yisrael Natan Heschel, “Mismakhim Nosafim le-Folmos Dag ha-Stirel bi-Shenat 5558,” Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael (Sivan-Tamuz 5755): 109.
[14] See Shevet mi-Yehudah, vol. 2, Yoreh Deah no. 5.

In this post I would like to finish up with Rabbi Zvi Benjamin Auerbach’s Eshkol. But first, I must clear up another matter about which I was asked, as I discussed it right at the beginning of my first post dealing with the Eshkol. I mentioned that the late fourteenth-early fifteenth-century kabbalist, R. Menahem Zioni, quotes R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s comment that a section of the original Torah was removed by David and placed in the book of Psalms. After being shown this passage, as part of the effort to defend the authenticity of R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s commentary, R. Moshe Feinstein replied that Zioni’s commentary was also forbidden to be used.[1]

R. Moshe also writes that he doesn’t know who R. Menahem Zioni is. Presumably, this is designed to show Zioni’s insignificance, and make it easier for R. Moshe to ban his book. The problem is that Zioni is hardly an unknown figure; his commentary on the Torah is actually quite famous. He was also “one of the few kabbalists in 14th-century Germany.”[2] For R. Moshe to state that he is unfamiliar with Zioni is an acknowledgment that he is not particularly learned in Kabbalah. I don’t think anyone should find this surprising, much like they shouldn’t find it surprising that R. Moshe was not a savant of Jewish philosophy. He was an ish halakhah, and his time was spent focused on Shas and Poskim. Just as the Rav reports that R. Moshe Soloveitchik never held the Rambam’s Guide, we can also say about R. Moshe Feinstein that his interests were in line with the typical Lithuanian gadol, and that meant that Talmud and halakhah were what he devoted himself to.

While I don’t find R. Moshe’s lack of knowledge about a medieval kabbalist surprising, not all share this sentiment. After my last post someone wrote to me asking if it is true that R. Menasheh Klein rejected R. Moshe’s disqualification of Zioni. This is indeed true, and Klein’s responsum appears in his Mishneh Halakhot, new series, vol. 2, no. 214. Klein also points out that Zioni is quoted in halakhic sources, including the Magen Avraham, and he adds:

This is, of course, comical. R. Moshe insists that Zioni’s commentary should be banned, and Klein insists that R. Moshe never wrote this. The fact that the relevant volume of Iggerot Moshe was published in R. Moshe’s lifetime and the letter in which he writes against Zioni was sent to Rabbi Daniel Levy of Zurich and is dated 1976 does not deter Klein is what is surely one of the strangest things to appear in his volumes of responsa (which contain a good many strange things[4]).

As for R. Yehudah he-Hasid’s commentary, which R. Moshe also banned, Klein writes as follows (Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 16, no. 102):

A number of years ago I was studying R. Mordechai Spielman’s Tiferet Zvi. This is a multi-volume commentary on the Zohar which shows incredible bekiut. In fact, the Zohar is often just a springboard for the learned author to discuss all sorts of Torah matters. His first book, Tziyun le-Nefesh Tzvi, shows the same characteristics, and it is devoted to the issue of whether kohanim can go to the graves of tzadikim. While most poskim rule that they cannot, there is also a tradition, popular among the kabbalistically inclined, that tzadikim are exempted as they do not cause impurity. In one of his final articles, the late Prof. Israel M. Ta-Shma dealt with this issue.[5]

I noticed that Spielman cited Zioni and was curious to hear his reaction to R. Moshe’s teshuvah. In a lengthy letter, dated July 14, 1994, in which he discussed a variety of matters, he wrote:

[Quite by coincidence, a couple of years later my havruta at the Scranton yeshiva was the great-nephew of Rabbi Spielman. He told me that his uncle, who was a follower of the Munkatcher rebbe, R. Hayyim Elazar Shapira (and also a native of Munkatch), used to celebrate Thanksgsving each year. Such was his feeling of gratitude to be living in the United States.]

Returning to Auerbach’s Eshkol, the controversy really started when R. Shalom Albeck, in an open letter, later followed by his Kofer ha-Eshkol, accused Auerbach of forging the work. (Albeck himself, and his son Hanokh, later published the authentic Eshkol.) Yet it must be noted that Albeck was not the first to accuse Auerbach of this, as right after the work was published there appeared an anonymous article in He-Halutz[6] saying the same thing. There is a widespread assumption that this article was written by the outstanding scholar Raphael Kirchheim. Yet I don’t know how this assumption arose, as I can find no evidence to justify it. I believe that the author was Joshua Heschel Schorr, the publisher of the journal.

I must thank Rabbi Baruch Oberlander of Budapest[7] who called my attention to the fact that in another article in He-Halutz, eleven years later,[8] Schorr once again attacks Auerbach and his edition of the Eshkol. Among his choice words are the following:

Auerbach’s Eshkol was shown to be a forgery in that it contained formulations taken from post-medieval works. In my last post I quoted R. Ratsaby’s comment in his letter to me that the work contains material from the Beit Yosef. Oberlander points out that R. Menahem M. Kasher, Torah Shelemah, 9:140, also raises this possibility.

Havlin quotes a passage from R. Abraham ben ha-Rambam that is found in the Orhot Hayyim of R. Aharon of Lunel and also appears in Auerbach’s Eshkol. The question is obvious: How could the Eshkol, whose author, R. Abraham ben Isaac, died in 1159, quote anything from R. Abraham ben ha-Rambam. Of course, one could say that this is a later addition to the manuscript from someone who used the Orhot Hayyim. But as Havlin notes, this is no help either because where would this person have come across this text, as it is lacking from the standard edition of Orhot Hayyim and is today only found in one Jerusalem manuscript?

The answer is that the Beit Yosef cites this passage in the name of Orhot Hayyim (without noting that the Orhot Hayyim is quoting R. Abraham ben ha-Rambam). R. Joseph Karo had access to a manuscript of Orhot Hayyim which had this text, which, as mentioned, does not appear in the standard version of Orhot Hayyim. Auerbach saw this text in the Beit Yosef and simply incorporated it into his Eshkol, perhaps even assuming that this was another example of Orhot Hayyim quoting the authentic Eshkol, as he often does. Only now, when we have access to the Jerusalem manuscript of this work, do we see that Orhot Hayyim is actually quoting a teaching of R. Abraham ben ha-Rambam. This was information that Auerbach did not have, and explains how he could include it in his edition. R. Abraham ben Isaac was a great scholar (and father-in-law of the Ra’avad). Yet even he was not able to quote from works that would not appear until after his death.

Havlin concludes:

Albeck’s request was never fulfilled, and it is obvious that all of Auerbach’s defenders, who were in close touch with his family, assumed that there was no such copy. Had anyone known of it, its existence would have been a central feature of the defense of Auerbach’s honesty.

In 1986 Bergman published volume 4 of Auerbach’s Eshkol, which contains some of the missing sections. This would appear to show that Albeck was not correct in his assumption, and accusation, that no such text existed. But its existence says nothing about the authenticity of Auerbach’s Eshkol. All it means is that Auerbach had written down certain sections, and added his commentary Nahal Eshkol which he had to do before publication. Even forgers have to present a written text to the printer!

With regard to Bergman’s volume, it is very curious that the reader is given no insight in the introduction as to where this manuscript came from (or even a picture of it). I can’t think of any other publication of a rishon where this information is not provided. I would not be surprised if some think that the new edition is itself a later forgery designed to protect Auerbach’s legacy. After all, how is it that Bergman came to this work when Auerbach’s family and defenders knew nothing about it? Despite these questions, I think that barring new evidence we should give Bergman the benefit of the doubt and assume that the manuscript did originate with Auerbach.

I realize that it was, and remains, hard for people to accept that a gadol be-Yisrael was capable of such an outrage, namely, forging the work of a rishon. I think we should simply assume that he had some sort of schizophrenic personality, and leave it at that. Even great Torah scholars sometimes do weird things.

It is of course understandable that people who knew Auerbach as a pious sage were not able to accept this. Professor Jacob Barth, who taught at both the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin and the University of Berlin, and was one of the world’s leading Semitic scholars, is a perfect example of this phenomenon. Although he was R. Esriel Hildesheimer’s son-in-law and a leading figure in German Orthodoxy, he also had a critical mind and was not one to be led by convention. It was thus possible for him to argue that Isaiah 40-66 was a later addition, and to reject the talmudic dating of various post-biblical books. He even claimed that the Song of Songs was not originally intended as an allegory, a position that today would probably get him put into herem. Yet even this giant of critical scholarship could not approach the Eshkol problem objectively. Instead, he reflected on how forty years prior he had studied Talmud under Auerbach, and how much he was impressed by him, from both an intellectual and personal standpoint. As he put it, whoever had any contact with Auerbach knows that it is “absolutely impossible that he could have committed the smallest literary dishonesty.”[9] He concludes his essay by stating that the learning and character of Auerbach stand tall, despite the shameful attack of Albeck.

In my first post I noted that R. Hayyim Heller pointed out to the Rav that Auerbach’s Eshkol is a forgery. In this regard, it is interesting to mention something that appears in Shimon Yosef Meller, Uvdot ve-Hanhagot le-Veit Brisk. In recent years there has been great interest in “Brisk.” I am not referring to the Brisker method of Torah study which has been popular for a long time, but rather a great interest in the personal lives of the outstanding figures of Brisk.

As every bit of information is precious, and every book wants to offer new stories, it is important for the authors to look anywhere they can. Unfortunately, at least one such book has plagiarized from R. Herschel Schachter.[10] Another unfortunate element in these books is the lack of respect shown to figures who did not share the Brisker anti-Zionism. This is more understandable, as at times R. Chaim and R. Velvel themselves had negative views of the religious Zionist gedolim.[11] It would be censorship if their attitudes were not recorded properly, but most people reading this will still regard it as unfortunate that these great rabbis were not more tolerant. (The irony, of course, is that they are expected to be tolerant of those who supported what in their mind was bringing great devastation upon the Torah world.)

Speaking personally, I must say that some of the stories recorded in these books are so strange that I wonder if most people in this generation would be led to admire these figures more after hearing the stories, or if the result would be the opposite. For example, what is one to make of the following story, told in order to inspire awe of the Brisker Rav? Once he was served something which, while kosher, did not measure up to his standards. Upon learning of this, he immediately stuck his finger down his throat, causing himself to throw up on the host’s expensive rug. Rather than this upsetting the host, we are told that this further increased his admiration for the Brisker Rav.[12]

Can people today grasp what it means to be a pure ish halakhah of the sort the Rav describes in Halakhic Man, whose behavior can come across as very cold and unfeeling (e.g., R. Moshe Soloveichik’s rebuke of the Baal Tokea, and the story of R. Elya Pruzhener and his dying daughter)?[13] Another such example of this is the report that when one of R. Velvel’s sons died shortly after birth, and the family was crying, he was insistent that they stop their tears, since there is no avelut before thirty days.[14] Whether this type of pan-halakhism is inherently positive or negative I will leave to the judgment of others, but I think that in modern times it is clear that the average person who hears stories like this, even if he is a haredi, will not be spiritually inspired. I think that many times he will even be spiritually turned off, for obvious reasons.

I know that Rabbi Pinchas Teitz, who headed my high school, the Jewish Educational Center, didn’t like the similar sort of stories told about the Rogochover. He felt that people today would hear these stories and the only thing that would stay with them is that the Rogochover was eccentric. Since the point of stories of gedolim is to inspire respect and awe, telling stories that stress his eccentricity would therefore be counterproductive. For example, hearing about how the Rogochover threw a chair at R. Hayyim Ozer, or how he proclaimed that R. Yitzhak Elchanan didn’t know how to learn or that Tosafot is full of errors, are hardly the sort of tales that will inspire awe.

In fact there are many gedolim about whom R. Teitz’ point is applicable. I remember when a high school rebbe of mine got all excited telling the class about his trip to the Steipler, and how while he was there the Steipler chased another fellow out of the house. (Subsequently I learnt that this was not so uncommon). After the rebbe finished his story, no doubt thinking we would be impressed, one of the students blurted out something along the lines of “Do you think that was a nice thing to do?” Now I certainly am not going to judge the Steipler, and it is likely that the man was deserving of being thrown out, but the rebbe didn’t know the details and thought that it would be exciting to tell us high schoolers how the great Steipler lived up to his reputation as one who didn’t suffer fools. Yet the acculturated Modern Orthodox response was to wonder why he wasn’t a nicer person. In other words, Rabbi Teitz was correct about the need to be careful when it comes to telling the masses stories of gedolim.

To give another example, I recently read a hesped where R. Yitzhak Yosef recorded how the deceased talmid hakham, R. Moshe Levi, didn’t miss a moment of Torah study. He described how when R. Levi was at a communal meal he kept a book under the tablecloth, and every free second he could be seen be looking at it. The eulogizer saw that as something positive, whereas in my town, everyone would regard it as very rude. This point illustrates why I find haredi hagiography so fascinating, as it clearly reveals the culture gap between the haredi world and the Modern Orthodox world. Some of the stories that are told, and are part of haredi myth making, would be regarded with horror by the Modern Orthodox world.[15] How better to determine the ethos of a community than by seeing how it chooses to remember and praise its leaders? If anyone thinks that the Rav shared the Modern Orthodox ethos, just look at the stories he tells in Halakhic Man.

Sometimes truly horrible stuff is found in haredi “gedolim books” as well. Let me offer just one example. There is a very helpful book by Dov Ber Schwartz entitled Artzot ha-Hayyim (Brooklyn, 1992). This book contains short biographies of numerous American rabbis, a list of rabbinic books published in the United States, and an essay on Orthodoxy in America. Yet in the midst of the book, on page 52a in the note, one finds the shocking passage which you can see here, and which I am too embarrassed to translate. One can only hope that sentiments such as these are not very common among Schwartz’ fellow Satmar hasidim.

While in many cases the stories told are strange and one wonders whether they are accurate, in some cases it can be determined with virtual, or even complete, certainty that they are false. Yehoshua Mondshine has authored a number of articles showing the falsehoods in (mostly) hasidic stories. Among the non-hasidic works he takes aim at is R. Barukh Epstein’s Mekor Barukh.[16] Mondshine’s prime concern is with the famous story recorded by Epstein about his father’s meeting with the Tzemah Tzedek, and Mondshine attempts to show that there is no reason to believe the report.

To this I would only add that, knowing Epstein’s reputation as a plagiarizer and how he manufactured stories, one should not take seriously any of his “recollections.” I know the feminists will be upset with this, but we must assume that the entire dialogue between him and Rayna Batya,[17] which shows her as a proto-feminist, is contrived and has no historical significance other than revealing that Epstein himself wanted to call attention to the sad fate of talented women who are not permitted to study Torah In the unlikely event that he does accurately portray Rayna Batya, all I can say is that the punishment of one who tells tall tales is that even when he tells a true story he is not believed. We must, however, remember that even when it comes to stories that are certainly false (and there are loads of them being invented all the time, and then repeated by the gullible), one should not be discouraged when reading them. Rather, one should keep in mind Saul Lieberman’s famous comment: “Nonsense is nonsense, but the history of nonsense is scholarship.”

What does all this have to do with Auerbach’s Eshkol? In Uvdot ve-Hanhagot le-Veit Brisk, 3:291, we are told in the name of someone who heard it directly from R. Velvel that when Auerbach’s Eshkol was published, “I [R. Velvel] immediately said that this is not the Eshkol.” R. Velvel is also quoted as saying that it was actually written by another rishon. Here is a perfect example of why these sorts of books are so unreliable. I am not saying that the person who reported this story is lying, only that he didn’t understand what R. Velvel said, or perhaps after forty years no longer remembered properly. I say this because R. Velvel never could have said what he is alleged to have said, as he wasn’t even alive when Auerbach’s Eshkol appeared in 1868. The only kernel of truth that can be gleaned from this text is that R. Velvel knew that Auerbach’s Eshkol was not the authentic Eshkol. Seeing how badly the informant messed up, I am not even willing to trust him that R. Velvel said that Auerbach’s Eshkol is the work of another rishon. Perhaps he only said that it contains information from rishonim, without committing himself to it being an authentic medieval work.

The great problem is what to do with pesakim that rely on Auerbach’s Eshkol. For example, the authentic Eshkol does not have hilkhot niddah, but Auerbach’s does. Unlike Saul Berlin, Auerbach was not simply making up pesakim and attributing them to rishonim. He was taking information in the Beit Yosef and other works and putting this in the mouth of the Eshkol. This is, of course, terrible, and in a halakhic sense it gives the authority of an aharon to a rishon. Yet when you have a pesak in one of the aharonim that relies on Auerbach’s Eshkol, I would think that it does not need to be thrown out because there is at least some important authority (e.g., Beit Yosef, Peri Hadash, etc.) who holds this position, even if it wasn’t the Eshkol.

That said, I can only sympathize with those who have written articles or halakhic works and treated Auerbach’s Eshkol as authentic. The forger has all sorts of motivations, but at the very least he is guilty of genevat zeman, i.e., the time that people take in examining that which they think is a rishon, and wouldn’t have done had they known the truth. Time is precious, and the forger causes it to be wasted on falsehoods. Just think how much time was spent on the forged Yerushalmi Kodashim and Besamim Rosh that could have been spent in authentic Torah study. From an issue currently in the scholarly news, imagine how many thousands of hours have been spent on Morton Smith’s Secret Gospel of Mark, by scholars arguing both sides of the issue. If it turns out that Smith is a forger, even after his death he is playing havoc with people and their scholarly direction.

One very unfortunate example of this is Chaim Bloch’s collection of forged anti-Zionist letters, Dovev Siftei Yeshenim (3 vols., 1959-1965). Hermann Greive wrote an entire article based on these letters,[18] and shortly after his article appeared Shmuel Weingarten published his Mikhtavim Mezuyafim Neged ha-Tziyonut (Jerusalem, 1981), showing beyond any doubt that the letters are forgeries.[19] All the time spent by Greive in writing his article was of course never to be recovered, stolen from him by the worst type of scoundrel the scholarly world can produce. Years ago I had wanted to discuss this matter with Greive, but was shocked to learn that he had met an untimely death, killed by a deranged student.[20]

Notes:

[1] Iggerot Moshe, Yoreh Deah III, no. 114.

[2] Encyclopaedia Judaica, vol. 11, col. 1314 (s.v. Zioni, Menahem).

[3] In a later responsum, vol. 16, Yoreh Deah no. 102, he offers a far-fetched explanation of Zioni and R. Yehudah he-Hasid, according to which David never removed anything from the Torah, only from Moses’ chumash, which contained material not found in the Torah.

[4] For example, what other posek has concluded that ethnic foods, e.g., Chinese, Italian, sushi, etc. are forbidden, and that Jews must only eat “Jewish food.” See Mishneh Halakhot, vol. 10, no. 111. It was pesakim like this that gave rise to the yeshiva quip that the title of his book should be pronounced Meshaneh Halakhot. In addition, Klein’s negative views towards baalei teshuvah and women are also very troubling (although with regard to women, a knowledge of some of his difficult personal history adds some necessary context in this regard.) His attitude towards non-Jews is also shocking, so much so that one wonders whether Elie Wiesel, great humanitarian that he is, would be such a supporter of his institutions if he knew what was being taught there (Wiesel and Klein were in Auschwitz and Buchenwald together). In a lecture at an Edah conference some years ago, a well known talmid hakham discussed if it proper for one to make use of poskim like R. Menasheh Klein for certain areas (e.g., hilkhot Shabbat), if one feels that their general worldview, in particular in areas of Jewish-Gentile relations, is diametrically opposed to one’s own values.

[5] Israel M. Ta-Shma, “Holy Men Do Not Defile – Law and Ideology,” Jewish Studies Internet Journal, 1 (2002): 45-53 [Hebrew], available here (PDF).

[6] Vol. 8 (1869): 165-167.

[7] Rabbi Oberlander is the world’s leading expert on the forged Yerushalmi Kodashim. He published numerous articles on the topic in Or Yisrael, which will be part of his forthcoming book. I should also note that he has played an important role in the rebuilding of Jewish life in
Hungary. See e.g., here.

[8] Vol. 11 (1880): 65-67.

[9] “Notwendige Abfertigung,” Jǔdische Presse (February 17, 1911): 65.

[10] Halikhot ha-Grah (Jerusalem, [1996]) takes a good deal of material, often word for word, from R. Hershel Schachter, Nefesh ha-Rav (Jerusalem: Reishit Press, 1994) without acknowledgment.

[11] I don’t know if it is a reliable report, but see R. Ephraim Greenblatt, Rivevot Efraim, 6:41, third introduction, that R. Velvel also expressed himself negatively with regard to the Rav. (R. Greenblatt himself always shows great respect for the Rav and all gedolei Yisrael, whatever their hashkafot; the passage I refer to was written by someone else. Years ago I expressed my surprise to R. Greenblatt that he included this in his work. Since it is part of an article about one of his teachers, he no doubt felt that it was inappropriate to make any changes.)

[T]here is something strange about Soloveitchik’s tales of the Litvaks. The behavior he describes is so radical, so extreme, as to make his presumed heroes seem grotesque. Who, for example, wishing to portray Litvak intellectualism in a positive light, would boast that his father and grandfather set aside all human sentiment and refused ever to enter a cemetery, because a stark encounter with death would have distracted them from the contemplation of the law. Or again, who would tell with pride the following macabre story about his maternal grandfather [referring to the story of R. Elya and his dying daughter] . . . Stories like this, while ostensibly presented in order to glorify the Litvak, cannot help but evoke strong disapproval in the reader. And this disapproval, it seems safe to assume, is shared in part by Soloveitchik himself, specifically by that part of him which rebels against the Litvak tradition’s spurning of the emotions. The vein of anger that runs through the anecdotal material in “Halakhic Man” is not to be missed.

David Singer and Moshe Sokol, “Joseph Soloveitchik: Lonely Man of Faith,” Modern Judaism 2:3 (October 1982): 259.

[14] Shimon Yosef Meller, Uvdot ve-Hanhagot le-Veit Brisk, 4:22-23. The eyewitness to this story was R. Simcha Sheps, late Rosh Yeshiva at Torah Vodaas.

[15] The same high school rebbe, mentioned above, also told us how at the Steipler’s wedding he had a sefer with him and was learning throughout the affair. Again, the reaction of the Modern Orthodox youths who heard this story was that the Steipler was definitely not someone to look to as a role model. What might inspire awe in Boro Park and Bnei Brak can often have the opposite effect when told to acculturated, fun-loving, American youngsters. This is the sort of story that will convince them that gedolim don’t value the normal pleasures of life, and why would any young person, brought up in America, want to be part of a religion that holds this up as an ideal?

[16] See here.

[17] See Don Seeman, “The Silence of Rayna Batya: Torah, Suffering, and Rabbi Barukh Epstein’s ‘Wisdom of Women,’” Torah u-Madda Journal 6 (1995-1996): 91-128.

[18] Hermann Greive, “Zionism and Jewish Orthodoxy,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 25 (1980): 173-195.

[19] Even before Weingarten’s book, and earlier articles, there was strong reason to suspect Bloch of forgery. From the beginning of the twentieth century he published books and articles containing letters of great rabbis and Hasidic leaders. None of them can be assumed to be authentic. During his great dispute with R. Yosef Elijah Henkin in the 1940’s, the latter repeatedly accused Bloch of dishonesty and pointed out that he would often attribute quotes to rabbis who were no longer alive so that he couldn’t be contradicted.

[20] After learning of the forgeries, Greive also published “Zionism and Jewish Orthodoxy (II),” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 28 (1983): 241-246, which is a disgraceful and feeble attempt at defending his original article. In truth, it is no more than a justification of the time and effort he put into the original article. The best course would have been to simply acknowledge how he had been hoodwinked. Why do I say that his article is “disgraceful”? Because it is a twisted example of post-modern mumbo-jumbo that would make the editors of Social Text proud (see here). Here are some choice quotations from Greive, which if they ever became the standard of the historian’s craft, would mean the end of knowledge as we know it. He is trying to show that even forgery of texts is not very different than what historians do all the time!

It is precisely because of this awareness that historians tend to be exceedingly sensitive to any departure from the accepted standards, to any instance of “interference” that does not stop at interpreting a text, but – in the case of written sources – presumes to interfere with the very words in order to demonstrate a newly proclaimed truth. It must be borne in mind, however, that what the offender does in such a case is no different in principle from what everybody is doing except that he goes a little too far. It is this proximity of the permissible to the impermissible that accounts for the intensity of the hostile reaction among scholars, which is as it ought to be for the sake of upholding the standards of serious scholarship, for it is that final step across the dividing line that is the decisive one.
The indignation among scholars will be the more vehement, the rejection the more absolute, the more clearly the newly demonstrated “truth” diverges from the established tenets, flies in the face of securely held scientific convictions. Yet, as will be explained later on, such reactions may be over-hasty. For one thing, interference with a text is not in principle different from inadmissible interpretation which does not alter the words but stretches their meaning; for another, the editing of a text touches on the problem of the extent to which a word uttered during a particular period truly reflects a (hypothetical) extra-verbal reality. Of course, such doubly problematical sources must be approached with caution: their usefulness depends on just what wants to demonstrate by their use.

Later on in the article Greive assumes that Bloch did not create the anti-Zionist letters from scratch, but rather altered authentic letters, and he argues that one can “extract” authentic information from them. He concludes: “Admittedly, there is a danger of drawing erroneous conclusions from a distorted text, but this only reinforces the need for a careful and balanced critical approach and is certainly no reason for altogether ignoring the material until some more reliable evidence pointing in the same direction becomes available.”

It is unfortunate that such a fine publication as the Leo Baeck Institute Year Book published this nonsense. Dovev Siftei Yeshenim is completely useless as a historical source.

Previously, I had attempted to reconstruct when Finkelstein had published his seforim and thus deduce that Finkelstein copied the Mekore Minahgim. Now, through internal evidence I can further bolster that theory and, perhaps, explain exactly what happened. Additionally, I hope to demonstrate that although Finkelstein copied, he was unaware the work Mekore Minhagim had ever been published. As one “fact” that supports Finkelstein’s position is that if he did merely copy why does his edition only have 41 entries, how hard would it have been to copy the others? This is so, as Lewyson’s was printed first with 100 entries and Finkelstein’s was printed close to five years after Lewyson’s.

In the earlier edition by Lewyson (the Dr./Rabbi in Germany) (henceforth ML) there are more entries than in the later edition by Finkelstein (“MF”). Now if Finkelstein had copied why did he leave out so many? If you recall, Finkelstein explained how he got this book and really it is his although he published later. Finkelstein explained that while his edition was published later, really he wrote it first. Finkelstein said that while he was traveling he stayed with Lewyson and Lewyson saw a copy of the manuscript and asked to borrow it. According to Finkelstein it was at that time Lewyson copied Finkelstein’s manuscript. Thus, although ML was published first really MF was written first.

As I said, if that was the case, isn’t at the very least Lewyson a bigger Talmid Chochom as in ML there are 100 question and answers while MF only has 41 of the 100? This of course assumes that Finkelstein told the story correctly but I think there is some truth in the story the story is actually slightly and materially different.

The real story was Finkelstein did in fact travel through Germany and did stay at Lewyson’s house. But, it was Finkelstein that at that time saw Lewyson’s manuscript and copied it then. Unlucky for Finkelstein, Lewyson had not finished thus Finkelstein only took what he had (or perhaps ran out of time to copy it).

This theory is I think provable. While 41 of the 100 appear in both works, even those there are slight differences. The differences point to an earlier or rougher draft of the work.
Let’s take a couple of examples. in no. 16 of ML (and in no. 11 in MF) the question is why do we sell Mitzvot in shul during the week and on Shabbat. In both ML and MF both have a vort on the verse Isaih 29:13, in fact the very same explanations appears in both. The only difference is in the ML he tells us where this comes from the Misphat Tzedek, while in the MF that is missing. Or later the ML says that something appears in the Sefer Shushan HaEdut and the Sefer Haradim and he has it as follows

Now in MF we have it like this:

That is it, the author expects you will know where in the obscure sefer Shushan Edut this appears and what it says. Obviously, no author would do that, instead, in a rough draft not everything had been filled in. Or, another possibility is in the haste to copy some of the content got lost.

Another example from the same siman. The author is explaining a further reason to do away with selling the mitzvot is due to the fights that arise over the selling.
In the ML he says

while in the MF it only reads
בפרט כבר בימיהם נסתעפו מחלוקות ע”י מכירת המצות עיין בס’ חסידים ובמהר”י קולון מה שאירע מזה

So although the Mahri Kolon appears in the Bet Yosef, all MF has is see Mahri Kolon (nor does it include where in the Sefer Hassidim or the quote). Again, it is missing any hint to where this is located, and unlike the ML where the text is included and thus it is less necessary to include a citation, in MF the text doesn’t appear.

Lest one say this is limited to that single entry, a similar pattern appears in other entries as well. For instance, in the entry discussing spitting during the Alenu prayer. Both editions have a quote from the sefer Teffilah Nehora, however, the ML (no. 20) edition includes more of the quote and then additionally has one more source the Kitzur Shelah. In the MF edition (no. 13), however, a shorter quote from the Teffilah Nehora appears and there is no Kitzur Shelah. Now, if Lewyson is the copier, why would he include a bit more of a quote? But, if the shorter quote was a product of an earlier unfinished draft it is understandable.

In entry no. 23 (ML) and 16 (MF) ML has a three part quote from Sefer Hassidim, while MF has only the first part.

now in MF (no. 17) it reads like this

the והוא is lacking a predicate in this version.

Again, all these examples, and there are additional examples of shorter quotes, missing citations, missing lines, are found in MF. [1] Assuming Finkelstein’s story is correct, how was it that Lewyson was magically able to add all the missing citations, and in some cases add additional material, when Lewyson was unable to come up with part of 41 of the entries on his own? And, if Finkelstein was the author why couldn’t he fill in the citations? Didn’t he know them as he was providing the sources to begin with?

Moreover, it seems that Finkelstein did not in fact copy from the printed ML. As if Finkelstein had the printed edition why are all these omissions found in his edition? Instead, Finkelstein must have only had access to a slightly different edition, and based upon Finkelstein’s own story, it seems that he saw it in Lewyson’s house and thus it must have been an earlier draft.

Note

[1] Compare for example MF (no. 14) with ML (no. 21). ML contains an entire extra section. Furthermore, even in the part that does appear in MF, it is lacking significant portions. As in ML it has quotes from Rabbenu Bachya and Eliayahu Zuta and then a quote from Hechel HaKodesh. Whereas in MF on the Hechel HaKodesh appears.

Compare MF (no. 16) with ML (no. 23). Both discuss whether on Yom Tov a woman first lights or first makes the blessing on the candles. They cite the wife of the author of the Sema
in ML it states:

now in MF it says:

so it is missing the Mishpat Tzedek.
Compare MF (no. 24) with ML (no. 85). ML contains about four times the amount of content.
Compare MF (no. 37) with ML (no. 40) again missing significant parts.

Compare MF (no. 38) with ML (no. 42). In this case some citations are missing in Finkelstein (see the discussion of the Chok Ya’akov) as well as the material regarding waiting 6 hours and whether it means a full 6 or something else.

Compare MF (no. 32) to ML (no. 5). ML has triple the material.

Compare MF (no. 5) to ML (no. 8) the additions and missing portions are rather clear.

I was told the following anecdote by Rabbi Aharon Lichtenstein. Licthenstein’s father-in-law, Rabbi Joseph Baer Soloveitchik (of Boston) expressed to Rabbi [Hayyim] Heller his amazement that the same obscure opinion of Mordecai in Niddah was to be found in the Eshkol, to which his mentor Hayyim Heller responded: “That is all?! You can find in Auerbach’s Eshkol a peckel Peri Megadims.” (Yiddish, a pack of Peri Megadim). . . . Prof. S.Z. Leiman informs me he found other irregularities in Auerbach’s historical works.”[10]

Breuer seems to be mistaken in pointing to the dispute over the authenticity of B. H. Auerbach’s edition of the Eshkol as an example of this phenomenon [i.e., Orthodox scholarship being looked down on]. To begin with, the main assault on Auerbach was led by Shalom Albeck (1858-1920), himself an Orthodox Jew. Secondly, this dispute had nothing to do with dogma interfering with scholarship, but was simply a question of whether Auerbach had forged the text. Finally, it is not so clear that Albeck’s attempt failed, as Breuer would have it. On the contrary, the authenticity of Auerbach’s edition is still highly questionable.

You are certain that the common understanding of Tosafot is mistaken. Yet this understanding became the standard for poskim in Western Europe. It is also shared by the Rama. Do you feel that there is anything wrong with someone who agrees with you as to the historical truth nevertheless relying on those poskim who misinterpreted the Tosafot? In other words, do the decisions of the poskim based on Tosafot have independent validity even if their interpretation of Tosafot is incorrect?[15a]

R. Ovadiah Yosef offers the same justification in his haskamah to Amar’s 1983 edition of Besamim Rosh

In 1806, this work was republished with an introduction from the editor of this edition. The editor was R. [Yisrael] Aryeh Leib ben Saul, the Chief Rabbi of Stettin.[2] The editor was the son of R. Saul Berlin, the latter who is perhaps most well-know for editing/authoring the Teshuvot Besamim Rosh. (For earlier discussions of the Besamim Rosh at the Seforim blog, see here.) The introduction contains some unusual items. It mentions Thomas Paine, Aristotle and other Greek philosophers, as well as the French Revolution and the bloody aftermath.[3] He specifically vocalises the name Abarbanel with that reading.[4] As is common in introductions, R. Aryeh Leib includes a brief history of his upbringing and eduction. He notes that he studied with both his grandfathers, R. Tzvi Hirsh Levin the Chief Rabbi of Berlin, as well as his maternal grandfather. Additionally, R. Aryeh Leib studied with R. Pinchas Horowitz, the author of the Haflah.

While all the above is interesting in its own right, the more interesting and important portion of the introduction discusses R. Areyeh Leib’s father, R. Saul. R. Aryeh Leib notes that his father left numerous works in manuscript and specifically lists them. R. Saul himself also discusses his unpublished works in his last will and testament – although only to issue a warning that “all of [his] writings, however… shall be forbidden to anybody to take even one leaf and to read it. Everything shall be left in paper, be sealed up and sent to my above-named father or to my children…” R. Saul doesn’t provide any other information about these “writings.” R. Aryeh Leib, however, discusses them in detail. First, he explains his father left notes and thought on the entire Sha’s titled Perek Hasheg Yad. The other titles, also on GeFeS, include Deh Lachmo, Resisi Lilah, as well as Ateres Zekanim on various aggadot. Finally, R. Saul left “his piskei dinim.”

R. Aryeh Leib continues that his father left extensive notes on a work, Or Zarua of R. Isaac of Vienna. At this time the Or Zarua had not been published, instead, the Or Zarua although well-known, wasn’t actually first published until 1862 and then only a portion of it. R. Aryeh Leib wanted to publish this work, it seems with his father’s notes.[5] As R. Aryeh Leib was well aware of the controversy his father prior works had caused, he took a proactive stance and sent the manuscript to two persons, R. Chanina Lipman Meisels of Peiterkov and R. Tzvi hirsch David HaLevi of Krakow. R. Aryeh Leib was fearful of “the kat ha’tzvoim who are unfortunately very common in this generation, they always treat as suspect the holy works as perhaps they will find something objectionable in these works, and [when they locate something they claim is objectionable] they stir up the populace with this.”

R. Aryeh Leib never was able to publish the Or Zarua, however, his discussion enabled one scholar[6] to cast serious doubts on the traditional story associated with the discovery and printing of the Or Zarua. Specifically, in the introduction to the Or Zarua, there is a description of the travels of the manuscript, and the relevant part states “[i]n earlier days this beautiful book used to be the proud possession of the author of the work Besamim Rosh, R. Saul, son of Tzvi Hirsch, Chief Rabbi of Berlin, as it is written on the cover of the [manuscript]…. After [R. Saul’s] death the book was sent to another city … by ship over the sea, and the ship and everything that was in it was wrecked, and the manuscript that was inside went under the sea and the waves went over it … God … protected this book and prevented it from going down to the depths and saved it from destruction. He sent a stream through the mighty waters a brought the book to the border … and led a fisherman to the place. He saw the book, lifted it from the sea and brought it to a certain Jew.” From there it was transfered to another and was then published. While this story makes for good reading, based upon the introduction in the Or Enayim it seems that it is not true. Contrary to the story, R. Saul did not send the manuscript only to have the ship wreck – instead, as R. Aryeh Leib says, he received the book from his grandfather, R. Yitzhak Yosef Toemim who R. Saul had given it to. It was not then lost in the sea, rather, as we have seen, in 1806 R. Areyeh Leib had it and was hoping to publish it.

What is true from the above story, and is confirmed in part by R. Aryeh Leib, is that the manuscript which the Or Zarua was published from, contains the notes of R. Saul. These notes have never been published although the manuscript is still extant in the Bibliotheca Rosenthalina in Amsterdam and is available at the JNUL (Mss. R. R. Film No. F 10455).

Notes:
[1] On the title page of this edition it states that it is the second edition of this work. This is incorrect. The Or Enayim was first published in Istanbul in approximately 1520. It was then published for a second time in Cremona in 1557. In 1806, we reach the edition discussed above. Thereafter, in 1967, a photomechanical reproduction of the Cremona edition was published together with R. Emmanuel Benevento’s Leviat Chen. [It is worth noting that although the Leviat Chen is also a photomechanical reproduction of the earlier, and only, 1557 Mantua edition, for some reason there are two pages missing at the end. Specifically, these two pages are a dirge bemoaning the 1554 burning of the Talmud in Ancona.]

[2] On the title page his name appears as Aryeh Leib – as the two approbations address him, while he signs the introduction with the additional Yisrael Aryeh Leib. R. Aryeh Leib had a rather colorful life, including converting to Christianity later in life. According to some, however, he repented and returned to Judaism. For more on Aryeh Leib, see Landshuth, Toldot Anshe ha-shem u’Polosum (Berlin, 1884) pp. 109-110. Landshuth cites E. Rosenthal, Yode’a Sefer p. 16 no. 93 as the source for the story that Aryeh Leib converted and that at the end of his life returned to Judaism. R. Saul also had a daughter, Hena, who married R. Abraham Hertz and they had a son, Saul.

[3] These persons and events are included to highlight the distinction, according to R. Aryeh Leib, between Jews and non-Jews. He claims that although one may find wisdom in non-Jewish as well as Jewish sources, in order to fully appreciate wisdom one can only do so through the study of the Torah and fulfilling its commandments. Thus, Duschinsky’s conjecture that R. Areyeh Leib mention was “to impress the reader with his profound knowledge in all subjects,” has little basis. See Charles Duschinsky, “The Rabbinate of the Great Synagogue, London, from 1756-1842,” Jewish Quarterly Review (n.s.) 9:3/4 (January – April, 1919): 383.

[4] See S. Z. Leiman, “Abarbanel and the Censor,” Journal of Jewish Studies (1968): 49, n. 1.

[5] Although Schrijver, see next note p. 78 n. 63, alleges there is “no clear textual evidence to support [the] assumption that Aryeh Leib wanted to include his father’s notes in a printed edition.” It seems from the fact R. Aryeh Leib went so far out of his way to defend the work against possible detractors I don’t think it far fetched to understand that the detractors would question the work of his father.
The above noted works are not the only works of R. Saul, R. Saul himself mentions other works he authored, none of which were published, in his notes Kasa D’harsena. For a complete list see Landshuth, supra n. 2, pp. 105-106.

[6] Emile G.L. Schrijver, “Some Light on the Amsterdam and London Manuscripts of Isaac ben Moshs of Vienna’s Or Zarua’,” Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library of Manchester, 75:3 (Autumn 1993): 53-82, esp. 73-82 where he includes an appendix on “The Story of the Shipwreck of the Rosenthaliana Or Zarua’ and its Demystification.”