Cemeteries and Response to Criticism

Marc B. Shapiro

In my last post here I said that when it is safe, I will go to Baghdad to visit the grave of the Ben Ish Hai. I cannot find a picture of the Ben Ish Hai’s grave online, but you can see it in R. Yaakov Moshe Hillel’s beautifully produced recent book, Ben Ish Hai, p. 337. However, this is from the old cemetery in Baghdad, and because of a government order the remains in this cemetery were moved in the early 1960s. So it remains to be seen if the grave can now be located.[1] R. Hillel, p. 336 n. 480, claims that the precise location cannot be identified.

כיום, לא ניתן לזהות את קבריהם, בשל תנאי אקלים קשים השוררים בבבל אשר גרמו להתפוררות המצבות, ומחוסר רישום מדוייק של חלקות הקבורה.

Yet until we can go in and actually examine the spot, we cannot be certain if this is the case. There have been other examples of graves thought to have been lost, which have then been found. The best-known example is the grave of R. Israel Salanter, which was only located twenty years ago.[2]

While there is no doubt that the Ben Ish Hai was buried in Baghdad, there is also a tombstone for him on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem.

According to a famous story, which is also told on the tombstone, the Ben Ish Hai’s body was not only magically transferred to Jerusalem on the day he died, but the grave-digger testified to burying him on the Mount of Olives and wanted payment for his labor.[3] I guess we can say that the Ben Ish Hai was buried three times: twice in Baghdad and once in Jerusalem.

It is hard to know whether the entire story of the burial in Jerusalem is a legend, or if there actually was a grave digger who figured out a way to make some money and invented the story to get paid for digging the grave. Assuming the latter is the case, the grave digger must have known his crowd, that not only would they be inclined to believe such a story, but that they would also not think of actually confirming the story by digging up the grave. Truth be told, it would have to be a very fearless grave digger to leave the grave empty, because one never knows if it will be opened, so it is possible that some unknown person is actually found beneath the tombstone. It is also possible that the grave digger did not have any bad intent, but just had a very vivid imagination. In any case, it is fascinating that such a tombstone exists in the most special Jewish cemetery, and even more incredible that there are people who actually believe that the Ben Ish Hai is buried there.

Supposedly, the Ben Ish Hai’s tombstone on the Mount of Olives is the only one that is standing upright, as all others are horizontal. (Maybe someone in Jerusalem can confirm this.) It is worth noting that R. Yitzhak Kaduri paid the grave in Jerusalem no mind, and even joked about it.[4] R. Shmuel Eliyahu has stated that while the Ben Ish Hai is buried in Baghdad, his spirit came to Jerusalem.[5]

Similar to the story with the Ben Ish Hai’s burial place, R. Abraham Joshua of Apt is buried in Medzhybizh, near the Baal Shem Tov’s grave, but there is a legend that angels carried his body to Tiberias, and there is a stone marking his grave there as well.[6]

This last summer I was in Marrakech, Morocco. In the local Jewish cemetery, R. Jacob Timsut is buried. Yet, “one month after the deceased rabbi was buried in Marrakech, a letter arrived from Jerusalem announcing the marvelous appearance of a tombstone with the name of Rabbi Ya’aqov Timsut in the well-known cemetery on the Mount of Olives.”[7] So once again, you can visit the tzaddik’s grave in its original spot or in Jerusalem.

Regarding tombstones even though the deceased is not buried there, I must call attention to the fascinating comments of R. Hayyim Nathan Dembitzer (1820-1892). R. Dembitzer was a dayan in Cracow and author of the responsa volume Torat Hen. Yet his claim to fame is his historical writings. As a real historian, he was prepared to accept the truth from where it came, and it is significant that in his work Mikhtevei Bikoret (Cracow, 1892), he included correspondence with Heinrich Graetz. Here is the title page and the first two pages of this book.

 

Look at how respectfully he refers to Graetz, which is the sort of thing that would have driven R. Samson Raphael Hirsch and R. Esriel Hildesheimer crazy.

Dembitzer’s respectful scholarly interactions with Graetz, in which he did not let religious differences interfere, is parallel to how certain important rabbinic figures related respectfully to Louis Ginzberg. I dealt with this matter in Saul Lieberman and the Orthodox, and it has also recently been discussed by R. Moshe Maimon.[8] Interestingly, in Mikhtevei Bikoret R. Dembitzer also includes correspondence with Nachum Sokolow.

Dembitzer’s two-volume Kelilat Yofi is focused on the rabbis of Lvov as well as other Polish rabbis, and is essential for anyone doing research on the Polish rabbinate. In this work, vol. 1 p. 41a, he mentions that Elyakim Carmoly had written that in earlier years in Lvov they would place tombstones in the cemetery for the deceased scholars of the city even if they had died and were buried elsewhere.

Dembitzer does not give an exact reference for Carmoly, only mentioning that his comment is in Ha-Karmel. Fortunately, I was able to find Carmoly’s article and it appears in Ha-Karmel, April 17, 1867, p. 302. Carmoly’s has two proofs for his contention. The first proof is that in R. Gavriel ben Naftali Hertz’s Matzevat Kodesh (Lemberg 1864), vol. 2, in the second half of the book (there is no pagination here), we find the following tombstone for R. Elijah Kalmankash, who served as rav of Lvov.

The tombstone explicitly states:

.וישכב עם אבותיו ויקבר במקום קבר אביו ולא ידע איש את קבורתו עד היום הזה

This is a clear proof that at least for this rabbi, a tombstone was placed in the ground even though he was not buried there.

Carmoly also notes, as his second proof, that in Matzevat Kodesh, vol. 2, p. 22a, it records, from the Lvov cemetery the text of the tombstone of R. Petahiah, son of R. David Lida who was rav of Amsterdam. His date of death is given as 1721. Here is the text of the tombstone as recorded in Matzevat Kodesh.

(Following R. Petahiah’s tombstone, Matzevat Kodesh records the tombstones of another son and son-in-law of R. Lida.) However, Carmoly tells us that we know that R. Petahiah died and was buried in Frankfurt. R. Markus Horowitz in his Avnei Zikaron (Frankfurt, 1901), p. 290 (no. 2712), published many years after Carmoly’s article, records the text of his tombstone as follows.

As you can see, the date of death is 1751, thirty years later than the date given on the tombstone in Lvov. In other similar cases, I would say that we are dealing with two different people, but the specificity of the tombstone texts makes it hard to deny that they are both for the same person (and Petahiah was hardly a common name).[9] Carmoly’s conclusion is that the community of Lvov put up a tombstone for R. Petahiah to memorialize him, even though he was buried in Frankfurt. Neither Carmoly nor R. Dembitzer offer an explanation as to why the Lvov tombstone places his death thirty years too soon, but they would probably view this as just a simple error.

Dembitzer not only agrees with Carmoly in the case of R. Petahiah, but offers another example of this phenomenon. R. Zvi Hirsch ben Zekhariah Mendel had served as rav in Lvov, but later he was rav in Lublin and died there around 1700. However, there was a tombstone for him in Lvov which gave his date of death at 1655. R. Dembitzer does not explain the discrepancy of the dates of death, and presumably he would say that when the tombstone was put up in Lvov to honor the deceased former rav of the city (who was not buried there), they simply got the date of death wrong. Interestingly, Shlomo Tal accepted the statements of Carmoly and R. Dembitzer, and in summarizing their position speaks of “many fictitious tombstones.”[10]

Dembitzer also makes the astounding assertion that there are graves in the Lvov cemetery for rabbis who never existed! His proof is that there is a tombstone for a Rabbi Eliezer ben Moshe ha-Kohen Proops (פרופס), who is said to have been av beit din in Amsterdam before he came to Lvov. Yet R. Dembitzer states that no such person was av beit din in Amsterdam, and we thus see that the people who made the tombstones did so for rabbis who never existed![11]

כי גם זאת לפנים בלבוב, להקים ג”כ מצבות אבנים ולחקוק עליהם שמות חכמי ישראל אשר לא מתו ולא נקברו לא בלבוב, וגם לא במקומות אחרים, יען כי לא היו ולא נבראו ולא באו עוד לעולם . . . ומי לידינו יתקע אם לא עשו זכרונות במצבות אבנים כאלה גם לשאר גאונים אשר בדו מלבם וקראו בשמותם עלי אדמה, וקבעו גם כן זמן לפטירתם

This is a very strange assertion, and even if it is correct, it refers to one case only, while R. Dembitzer uses it to make a generalization. The only one I know who took note of R. Dembitzer’s assertions was R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira in a letter to R. Leopold Greenwald.[12] R. Shapira rejects R. Dembitzer’s claim in a very sharp tone.

ולא יאומן כי יסופר כי מרב גדול בתורה יצאו דברי הבל כאלו אשר כל השומע ויודע יצחק להם, ליתן מצבות ומקום בעד אותן שאינם נקברים שם ולכתוב שקר גמור “פ”נ” על להד”ם ולהשחית הקרקע שלא נקברו שם אין כדאי להטפל בדברי ריק כאלו. ואם בשביל קושיות שמצאו כמו ב’ מצבות כמו שני יוסף בן שמעון בשתי עיירות כלומר בתי קברות הנה שערי תירוצים לא ננעלו ונמצאו באמת שנים ששמותיהן שוות או לא העתיקו המצבות במקום אחד כראוי

Shapira makes the obvious point that two people with the same name can be buried in different cemeteries without them being the same person. However, this does not explain how there can be two tombstones for R. Petahiah, the son of R. David Lida, or how there can be a tombstone for another rabbi in the Lvov cemetery when we know that he was buried elsewhere.

Regarding what we have discussed, I would only add that in the new Jewish cemetery in Vienna (the same one that R. Israel Friedman, the Chortkover Rebbe, is buried in), there is a tombstone for three members of the Chevra Kadisha who perished in the Holocaust. While it looks like a normal grave, none of the three men mentioned on the tombstone are actually buried there.[13] Here is the tombstone.

I owe this information and the picture to Dr. Tim Corbett, whose book on the Jewish cemeteries of Vienna will hopefully soon be published.

Since I just mentioned R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, let me mention something else he says that is fascinating. In the past two posts I discussed apostate rabbis. It is bad enough when an average person apostatizes, but for a rabbi to do so could have had terrible consequences on the community in that it could lead to many weak of heart to follow. Can anyone imagine, however, someone apostatizing as an act of teshuvah? It sounds crazy, but R. Shapira reported that he had it by tradition that such an incident happened in medieval times.[14]

The story he tells is that there was a popular preacher who in his public talks inserted all sorts of heretical ideas. After he was rebuked by one of the rabbis for preaching his heresies, the man confessed his sins and asked what he should do to repent. The rabbi told him that his repentance would not help, as for years he has gone from place to place spreading his heresy. How could he possibly repent for this? The rabbi said that what he must do is convert to Christianity. The Jewish world would then hear about this and this would remove the legitimacy from any of his sermons, as people would assume that even before his apostasy he was a heretic. Only by doing this could he destroy the impact he made with his earlier sermons.

Let me mention one final responsum for now. In the eighteenth century, R. Elijah Israel of Rhodes dealt with the case of someone who converted to Islam in Izmir, and then wished to come to Rhodes in order to return to Judaism.[15] Practicing Judaism after converting to Islam was illegal, and could endanger everyone in the community. The man was therefore warned not to come to Rhodes, where Muslim merchants might recognize him, but he ignored this warning. Making matters worse, the man had already once before converted to Islam and reverted to Judaism, meaning that there was no way that the Jewish community could have any dealings with him.

Israel permitted letting the authorities know about this man, as he was regarded as a danger to the community. The punishment for his “crime” of leaving Islam would have been severe and could even have included the death penalty, but R. Israel allowed informing the authorities as the man had the status of a rodef. He writes:

מי שמסכן רבים כגון שעוסק בזיופים במקום שהמלכיות מקפידות דינו כרודף ומותר למוסרו למלכות ע”כ וכ”ש וק”ו במי שהמיר דת ורוצה לחזור לדתו שההקפדה היא גדולה שהוא בזוי גדול לדעתם פן תצא כאש חמתם ח”ו ובערם ואין מכבה שמותר למוסרו כדי להציל את ישראל

* * * * * *

In the most recent issue of Dialogue 8 (2019), pp. 35-83, Rabbi Herschel Grossman published a lengthy review of my Limits of Orthodox Theology.[16] Normally I, like any author, would be very happy that so many years after a book’s appearance people are still interested in examining it and engaging with its arguments. Unfortunately, that is not the case with the present review which, it must be said, is nothing less than slanderous. Had the author taken issue with my interpretation of texts and shown why I am mistaken, this would have been a fine way to approach the book. It could be that I would even acknowledge that in some cases his understanding is preferable to mine. As readers of this blog know, I am perfectly willing to acknowledge when I have erred and am happy to credit those who called my attention to these errors. This is how scholarship is supposed to work, and anyone who writes, especially someone who writes a great deal using lots of different sources, will sometimes make a mistake. I myself have called attention to my own errors, without anyone prompting me, as I think it is important for all of us to be as exacting as we can.

However, this is not what the review is about, or, I should say, not what it is mainly about. In future posts I will come to the issue about how to interpret specific texts (and I will defend my readings), but first I must explain why I said that the review is slanderous. It is because Grossman accuses me of saying things that I never said, and throughout he misunderstands the purpose of the book, and of academic Jewish studies as a whole. In general, it is obvious from the review that although Grossman has never met me or even spoken to me, and I have never done him any wrong, he sees me as an enemy that he has to destroy.[17] With such a preconceived notion, it is no wonder that he comes to such incorrect conclusions as to what I am trying to say, and can write a review that is so mean-spirited and dripping with contempt. Based on e-mail correspondence with readers, I do not believe that anyone who has read the book will be taken in by the review’s distortions. However, those who haven’t read the book will probably come away with a false understanding, so it is important to clear this matter up before getting to any arguments over how to interpret particular sources.

Before going through the article itself, let’s look at the end where Grossman says that the book “falls short of its promise to prove that the Rambam was wrong in presenting his Principles as central to Judaism” (p. 83). I think everyone who has read the book knows that of all the things I try to do, one thing I do not do, and indeed it would have been incomprehensible to even imagine such a task, is attempt to prove that the Rambam was wrong. Even if I were a theologian, which I am not, I could not imagine myself ever trying to prove the Rambam (or R. Bahya, R. Saadiah, Ibn Ezra, etc. etc.) wrong. This is simply not how I operate.

The notion that I attempted to prove the Rambam wrong is so far from what I was trying to do in the book, that as mentioned, I don’t believe that anyone who actually read the book, or any of the other reviews, would have concluded as such. What they would have seen is that I try to show that the Rambam’s principles were disputed by others, and thus did not receive complete acceptance. I try to prove this point, but this is very different than trying to “prove that the Rambam was wrong.”

I don’t even know how one would be able to prove the Rambam, or any other Jewish thinker, “right or wrong” on theological matters. Is it possible to “prove” that creation was ex nihilo or from pre-existent matter, or can we ever “prove” that prayers should not be addressed to angels? Today, unlike in medieval times, most of us assume that by their very nature, theological discussions are not subject to “proof”. The most one can do is try to show which position makes more logical sense and is in line with biblical and rabbinic teachings.[18]

In his conclusion, Grossman also writes, in opposition to my supposed error, “that the Rambam’s Principles of Judaism remain the correct affirmation of Jewish belief.” Again, this sentence has nothing to do with my book, as it assumes that I claimed that the Rambam’s principles are incorrect. Had he understood what the book is about, and he wished to dispute with me, he would instead have written “that the Rambam’s Principles of Judaism are the generally accepted [or: halakhically binding, or: rabbinically sanctioned, etc.] affirmation of Jewish belief.”

Let us now start at the beginning. Grossman begins his review—and I will be going through it page by page responding to his attacks—by stating that “the academic approach to matters of Torah learning is radically different from that of the talmid chochom” (p. 36). This is an incorrect statement, as many followers of the academic approach are themselves talmidei hakhamim. What Grossman should have written is that the academic approach is different than the traditional approach. With regard to academic works, Grossman states: “Many of the conclusions of these works are at variance with accepted Torah teachings” (p. 35). No doubt that this is a true statement, but of course, the issue we will have to get into is what is the definition of “accepted Torah teachings.” As all readers of this blog are aware, R. Natan Slifkin’s books were banned because they were seen to be at variance with “accepted Torah teachings,” so the fundamental issue will be which teachings are supposedly accepted.

Grossman writes as follows in explaining the difference between a traditional Torah scholar and an academic scholar:

[For] the talmid chochom, a difficulty in the words of the authority creates a challenge for him to discover the true meaning of the authority. For many academics, a difficulty is proof that the authority is wrong (p. 36).

Grossman identifies me as one of the academics who try to show that an authority is wrong, so let us see whether this is indeed the case. He begins by stating about my book: “Its thrust is that the Rambam erred in codifying these Principles.” We have already seen this unbelievable distortion in his conclusion, as if one of my goals was to show that the Rambam was mistaken.

Grossman further states that “while some earlier scholars have disputed whether some of the Principles deserve to be listed as basic to Judaism . . . all have conceded that the tenets expressed by the Principles are correct” (p. 36). This statement is grossly inaccurate, as virtually every page of my book demonstrates (and in various blog posts I have also cited numerous authorities who disagree with certain of Maimonides’ principles).[19] Even if all of Grossman’s criticisms of particular points of mine are correct (and I will come back to this), it still leaves loads of sources at odds with the Rambam. The sentence is nothing less than shocking, since rather than acknowledging that other authorities disagreed with certain Principles of the Rambam, but claiming that these authorities’ views are to be rejected for one reason for another, Grossman states that “all have conceded” that the Rambam’s views are correct. It is hard to know how to reply to such a statement that completely disregards the truth that everyone can see with their own eyes.

In Limits, p. 26, I quoted the following from R. Bezalel Naor, who was repeating what he heard from R. Shlomo Fisher: “The truth, known to Torah scholars, is that Maimonides’ formulation of the tenets of Jewish belief is far from universally accepted.” R. Naor informed me that R. Fisher made this statement in explaining R. Judah he-Hasid’s view about post-Mosaic additions to the Torah. In other words, R. Judah he-Hasid’s view is not in line with Maimonides’ Principles, but this is not the only such example of Torah sages diverging from the Principles.

Grossman continues by stating that I conclude “that the Rambam’s formulation of the underlying beliefs of Judaism was his own innovation” (pp. 36-37). What does this sentence mean? Apparently, he wants the reader to think that I said that the Rambam just invented his Principles out of thin air, which is of course incorrect as I never said this. If the meaning is that the very notion of a list of doctrines formulated as Principles of Faith, with all that this entails, was the Rambam’s innovation, there is nothing controversial about this at all, and I discuss whether the Rambam was the first to do this and what led him to do so.

Grossman continues: “Even such basic tenets as the belief in God’s unity, or in God’s non-corporeality, says Shapiro, are the Rambam’s own assertions and subject to dispute, with no firm basis in the Torah or in Chazal” (p. 37). I never say that these tenets are the Rambam’s own assertion without any prior basis (as if the Rambam invented these ideas). When it comes to the belief in God’s unity, I state explicitly that no Jewish teacher has ever disputed this (although how they understood God’s “unity” was subject to dispute). As for God’s incorporeality, I will come back to this in greater detail in a later post, where I will also deal with R. Isaiah ben Elijah of Trani’s claim that divine incorporeality is not a principle of faith, as well as Maimonides’ view that in its simple meaning (but only in its simple meaning), the Torah itself teaches God’s corporeality (for the benefit of those people who at the beginning of their studies are not able to understand the profound concept of a deity without form). Since I will then analyze this matter in great detail, I do not want to get into it here. For now, I will simply say that in the book I discussed whether divine incorporeality was accepted by all Jews at all times, and if corporeal views of God can be found in the Talmud (as was stated by R. Isaiah ben Elijah of Trani).

On p. 37 Grossman writes:

Shapiro, who mocks the opinions of Rabbeynu Nissim, R. Moshe Feinstein, Chazon Ish, Arizal, and R. Ya’akov Emden, among others, goes one step beyond Kellner in his belief that he, Shapiro, is better able than Rambam to interpret explicit verses of the Torah (as we shall see below).

This is nothing less than slander since I never, not even once, mock the opinions of any of these great rabbis or anyone else. When I read this sentence, I had no clue what he was talking about, as this is not how I operate, and was shocked when I went to the sources he refers to. Let us look at what Grossman regards as “mocking”.

For my mocking of R. Nissim, he refers the reader to p. 84 in my book where I write that R. Nissim “puts forth the strange and original position that there is one particular angel before whom prostration is permitted.” This is mocking?[20]

For my “mocking” of R. Moshe Feinstein’s opinions he provides three sources.

On p. 101 n. 73, I discuss R. Moshe’s rejection of the authenticity of a passage in Avot de-Rabbi Nathan. I write that R. Moshe’s “rejection of the authenticity of this passage should be viewed as part of his pattern of discarding sources that do not fit in with his understanding. He does so even when the sources are neither contradicted by other writings of the authors involved nor by other versions of the text in question.” Where is the mocking?

On p. 157, I write: “Although R. Moses Feinstein was the greatest posek of his time, he seems to have had no knowledge of Maimonidean philosophy. He was therefore able to state that Maimonides believed in the protective power of holy names and the names of angels, as used in amulets.” Where is the mocking?[21]

The last source where I am said to be mocking R. Moshe’s opinion is p. 159 of my book. Here is the page.

All I do here is cite R. Moshe’s comment about those who oppose kollels by citing the Rambam. I have also seen R. Moshe quoted as saying that it is noteworthy that those who oppose kollels based on the Rambam only adopt this one “humra” of the Rambam. The Rambam has lots of other humrot, yet people don’t adopt these stringencies. They only want to be “mahmir” in accordance with the Rambam so as not to support kollels. To say that I am mocking R. Moshe’s opinion is not only slander, it is completely incomprehensible.

Regarding the Hazon Ish, Grossman refers to p. 17. On this page I mention the views of many who held that the Thirteen Principles are the fundamentals of Judaism, and I include a passage from the Hazon Ish. I don’t see any mocking.[22] He also refers to p. 65 n. 124, where I mention a number of sages, including the Hazon Ish, who say that the Rambam’s view that belief in divine corporeality is heresy (Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7) does not refer to someone who does not know any better, and thus the Rambam is not in dispute with Rabad who criticizes the Rambam on precisely this point. In response to those authorities who made this argument, I wrote: “They obviously never saw Guide I, 36, cited above, p. 48.” In this source, Maimonides specifically rejects the notion argued by the Hazon Ish and others that Maimonides is not speaking of the person who does not know any better. In fact, R. Kafih goes so far as to say, in his commentary to Hilkhot Teshuvah 3:7, that Maimonides saw Rabad’s comment and Guide 1:36 was written specifically in response to it, in order that people not assume that Rabad’s position can be regarded as theologically sound.

Regarding R. Isaac Luria, Grossman points to p. 90, where I write:

Finally, I must mention R. Isaac Luria’s view that Moses’ understanding of divine matters was inferior to that of certain kabbalists (including himself!). This notion is elaborated upon by R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady (1745-1813), who asks, “’How did Rabbi Isaac Luria, of blessed memory, apprehend more than he, and expound many themes dealing with the highest and most profound levels [penimiyut], even of many Sefirot.”

Again, I don’t know where there is any mocking. Incidentally, a reader has made a very good case that I am incorrect, and R. Isaac Luria and R. Shneur Zalman should not be cited as opposing Maimonides’ principle. In a future post, I will present this argument, which R. Chaim Rapoport told me he agrees with.

Regarding R. Emden, Grossman refers the reader to p. 16 n. 63. Nowhere in this note do I mock an opinion of R. Emden. What I do say is that his sexuality was complex. In retrospect, I regret including this comment, since it is not really relevant to the matter at hand. Yet there is no question that when it comes to sexual matters, there is something very much out of the ordinary, especially for rabbinic greats, in how R. Emden writes about these things. This is something that I believe is acknowledged by everyone who has studied R. Emden’s writings, including the most haredi among us, even if they won’t put such statements in writing. Mortimer Cohen, in his book on R. Emden, famously pointed to sexuality to explain how R. Emden could have attacked R. Eybeschütz the way he did, with such outrageous accusations. Still, I believe that Jacob J. Schacter is correct when he states: “[W]hile it is clear that Emden had a complex and contentious personality, all this emphasis on his sexuality is really irrelevant to his attack on Eybeschütz.”[23] I for one am not comfortable with psychological interpretations, even if in this case such an interpretation can be used as a limud zekhut for some of the shocking things R. Emden says, and if I was writing the book now I would leave out the passage mentioned above. Yet where is the mocking? The only mocking I see is how Grossman continuously mocks me.

Grossman writes: “Shapiro does not refrain from adducing explicit Talmudic passages as contradictions to the Rambam, presuming that the Rambam overlooked or ignored them, something which innumerable Talmudic scholars in past centuries have considered inconceivable” (pp. 37-38). In the book I never say that the Rambam overlooked talmudic passages. I do say that he did not accept the outlook of every talmudic passage (which Grossman terms, “ignored them”). The Rambam famously held that not every passage in the non-halakhic sections of the Talmud is binding.

Grossman continues:

Shapiro is unimpressed by all these arguments; nor is he averse to dismissing Rambam’s opinion based on his, Shapiro’s, own reading of a Talmudic passage, even where there is no doubt that the Rambam had a different reading for it. An academic, he obviously feels, is privileged to interpret the Talmud better than the Rambam was [!], even where this presumption leads to bizarre conclusions (p. 38).

The only thing that is bizarre here is Grossman’s statement, for I can assure everyone that in the book I do not engage in talmudic debate with the Rambam, dismiss the Rambam’s opinion, and think that I am able to interpret the Talmud better than the Rambam. If someone offers, say, a new interpretation of a talmudic passage, does this mean he thinks he can interpret the Talmud better than Rashi or the Rambam?

Another false statement is found on p. 38 where Grossman states: “Although he is to be commended for the amount of research he has invested into his work—the citations he has amassed are voluminous—it seems that many of the references were culled from secondary sources without examining the originals.” I can state with absolute certainty—and other than Grossman, I don’t think anyone else has ever raised such an accusation of scholarly malpractice—that I have examined every original source cited in the book. Not only that, but I have examined every source in every book I have published and in every blog post. I have never cited a source that I have not examined “inside” unless I indicate so. This does not mean that I have never misinterpreted a source, and in subsequent posts I will examine some examples where Grossman offers a different reading. But for now, suffice it to say that it is nothing less than slander to state that I included sources in the book that I did not examine myself (and this, by the way, was before the existence of the various digital databases. Librarians at JTS and YU can remember me as I was constantly there during the time I was writing the book.)

The final point for now is Grossman’s conclusion of the first part of his review:

To analyze the errors in this book would require a book in itself, nor is this the purpose of this article. The purpose is to show the lack of basis for Shapiro’s assertions (1) that the Rambam’s Principles have no basis in Talmudic literature; (2) that he created these Principles either to advance his philosophic conclusions or for polemic purposes; and (3) that many authorities thought the Principles “were wrong, pure and simple” (p. 38).

Point 1 is incorrect. I never state that the Rambam’s Principles have no basis in talmudic literature. Every single one of the Principles can find support in the Talmud (even if others might disagree with how to interpret the talmudic passages), and I cite examples of this in the book. What I do say is that the concept of Principles of Faith put forth by Maimonides, that one can commit endless sins but if he believes in the Principles he is still a Jew in good standing (albeit a sinning Jew) with a share in the World to Come, and if he denies or doubts even one of the Principles, even if he did not know any better and even if he fulfilled all the mitzvot, he does not have a share in the World to Come, such a concept is not found in talmudic literature. I am hardly the first to say this. Many of the Rambam’s rabbinic critics made this point, and as far as I know, all of the academic scholars who have studied the Rambam have said likewise. Furthermore, even if there are talmudic sources for the substance of Rambam’s Principles, this does not mean that there is compelling talmudic sources to explain why the Rambam categorized these particular beliefs as Principles, denial of which is heresy. Often, we must look to his philosophical assumptions, which he regarded as part and parcel of Torah, to explain why he raised certain beliefs to the level of Principles while others did not. We must also look to his philosophical assumptions to understand why he read certain talmudic passages the way he did, and was thus led to formulate his Principles in a certain fashion.

I would also like readers to examine the following statement by the rabbinic scholar, R. Reuven Amar.[24] Based on what Grossman writes, I assume that he will regard this as equally blasphemous to anything I have written.

דאם כי ודאי אין חכמת הרמב”ם ז”ל כשאר בעלי החכמה ובעלי הדעה וגדולה חכמתו ושיעור קומתו ולבו רחב כאולם בכל חכמה ומדע מ”מ בעיקרי האמונה אין דבריו כמפי הגבורה אחר שלא קיבלם איש מפי איש עד משה רבינו ע”ה כי אם משיקול דעתו ובינתו וכפי שהודה וכתב בעצמו בהקדמת ח”ג מהמורה נבוכים, בענין מעשה המרכבה ומעשה בראשית ועיין בזה במגדל עוז פ”א מיסודי התורה ה”י וכן ראיתי בספר שומר אמונים (להרב ר’ יוסף אירגס זצ”ל) בויכוח ראשון סעיף ח’ ט’ שהתבסס על זה

Regarding point 2, Grossman sees it as problematic to say that the Rambam created the Principles to advance his philosophical conclusions. Yet this is a perfectly reasonable approach. After all, wouldn’t the Rambam want the Jewish people to hold philosophical truths, and what better way to achieve this than to put these truths in the form of Principles of Faith that everyone has to know? This approach is commonly held among scholars of the Rambam. As for the accusation that I say that the Rambam created the Principles for polemical purposes, I never say that with regard to the Principles as a whole. I do say this about aspects of two of the Principles, and I will return to this in a future post. The fact that I am being attacked on this matter is ironic, as my approach is actually more conservative than what is found in almost all works of modern scholarship on the Rambam.

As for point 3, I do not say that “many authorities thought the Principles” were wrong. What I do say is that many authorities thought that individual Principles were mistaken. By writing “the Principles,” Grossman leads readers to think that I said that many authorities rejected the Principles in their entirety, but all readers of my book know that this is not the case.[25]

I want to conclude with the following from R. Mordechai Willig, which has some relevance to my discussion and which I think readers will find of interest.[26] R. Willig’s entire shiur is worth listening to, but for the purpose of this post I only want to cite one small section.

As we know, not all the Ikrei Emunah were etched in stone without any dispute from the beginning of time. . . . Are in fact the Rambam’s Thirteen Principles accepted le-halakhah for the last X hundred of years and you can’t go against it, or perhaps not? There are those therefore who are trying to get around certain of his Ikrim. The Sefer of Albo himself who wrote the Sefer Ikrim didn’t accept all the Thirteen of the Rambam. One might argue that we don’t really find anywhere to my knowledge significant dispute about the other Ikrim of the Rambam, but perhaps not all Thirteen were accepted, but we’ll call [it] Twelve and a Half. The first part of Ikkar number 5 was accepted, and the second part which is so complex, perhaps it never really was accepted. So there are Thirteen Principles but one of them, number 5, we only accept part of the Principle, not the entirety of the Principle. . . . It’s against the Rambam, but this half of that Principle was never accepted. But the rest was accepted.

In the next post I will continue with my response (and it looks like it will take many posts before I am finished, unless I first tire of this endeavor).

---

[1] Sipurim me-ha-Hayyim: Kitzur Shivhei ha-Ben Ish Hai (Jerusalem, 2009), p. 47.
[2] See here.
[3] See e.g., here.
[4] See R. Kaduri, Divrei Yitzhak, pp. 173-174.
[5] See here.
[6] See here.
[7] Yorma Bilu, Saints’ Impresarios: Dreamers, Healers, and Holy Men in Israel’s Urban Periphery, trans. Haim Watzman (Brighton, MA, 2010), p. 65.
[8] “Perek be-Hithavut ha-‘Olam ha-Torah’ be-Artzot ha-Berit le-Ahar ha-Milhamah,” Hakirah 26 (2019), pp. 31-52.
[9] See, however, Solomon Buber, Anshei Shem (Crakow, 1895), pp. 28-29, who is skeptical.
[10] Peri Hayyim (Tel Aviv, 1983), p. 149.
[11] Kelilat Yofi, pp. 41a-b. See also Buber, Anshei Shem, p. 32.
[12] Greenwald, Otzar Nehmad, p. 117.
[13] There is also a section of this cemetery where hundreds of Christians are buried. The Nazis refused to allow these people to be buried elsewhere as under the Nuremberg Laws they were regarded as Jewish (and halakhically, some of these people would indeed have been Jewish).
[14] Shapira, Divrei Torah, vol. 5, no. 27.
[15] Ugat Eliyahu (Livorno, 1730), no. 22
[16] Limits appeared in 2004. I wonder if it is only very negative reviews that come out so long after a book’s appearance. Another example is Haym Soloveitchik’s review of Isadore Twersky’s revised edition of Rabad of Posquiéres. The book appeared in 1980 and the review appeared in 1991. See Soloveitchik, “History of Halakhah – Methodological Issues: A Review essay of I. Twersky’s Rabad of Posquiéres,” Jewish History 5 (Spring 1991), pp. 75-124.
[17] Grossman did correspond with me and ask me questions which I tried to the best of my ability to answer. He also challenged some of what I said in his emails to me. Yet I have to say that I am quite hurt that he was not honest with me in this correspondence. On July 16, 2018, he began his correspondence with me by telling me that he was writing an article on the Thirteen Principles. In this email he also said that my book was well-written. (Buttering me up, I guess.) On July 17 he wrote to me: “Thank you for your communication! You are helping me tremendously.” I guess I was helping him to bury me. Also on this day he wrote to me about his article: “maybe you can help me with the writing!” I am sorry to see now that this was all part of a grand deception on his part.

In his email to me of October 11, 2018, Grossman wrote that he completed his article on the Thirteen Principles, “and have cited you in a few places.” Is this how an honest scholar operates, by deceiving the person he has been emailing with? I responded to his questions and explained how I view things, as I do with anyone who contacts me. I would have done the same thing had he been honest with me and told me that he was writing an article devoted to disputing my ideas. His friendly demeanor in his emails led me to assume that we were engaged in a form of scholarly collaboration in trying to understand important texts and ideas. So imagine my surprise to see that contrary to what he wrote to me that he cited me “in a few places,” the entire review is an attempt to tear me down. Furthermore, Grossman has been telling people that he wants his article to destroy my reputation as a scholar. What type of person treats his fellow Jew in this fashion?
[18] In a wide-ranging article which deals among other things with R. Kook’s view of heresy, the important scholar R Yoel Bin-Nun explains why R. Kook rejected the Rambam’s approach to heresy. R. Bin Nun also states that if you take what the Rambam says seriously, the Rambam himself, if he were alive today and saw how theological matters are no longer regarded as subject to conclusive proofs, would not regard people who disagreed with his Principles as heretics. In R. Bin Nun’s words (emphasis added):

שיטת הרמב”ם ברורה: יסוד שתלוי באמונה, ואין בו הוכחה שכלית, וכל החכמים מתווכים עליו, אי אפשר להגדיר את מי שאינו מאמין בו כ”כופר” או כ”מין”. עצם העובדה שהדבר נתון בוויכוח שכלי בין החכמים מאפשר ומחייב לבנות את עולם האמונה, אך אינו מאפשר לשפוט ולדון את הכופרים. רק ודאות שכלית מוחלטת מאפשרת לדון אדם כמזיד בשאלות של אמונה וידיעה

“Kahal Shogeg u-Mi she-Hezkato Shogeg o To’eh: Hiloniyim ve-Hiloniyut be-Halakhah,” Akdamot 10 (2000), p. 263.

In other words, according to R. Bin-Nun, based on the Rambam himself there is no justification today for calling people heretics because they reject one (or more) of the Thirteen Principles. (When he refers to hakhamim disputing matters, he is not referring to Torah scholars, but the general scientific-intellectual world.) Whether R. Bin Nun is correct in his analysis of the Rambam is not my purpose at present (and I do not find his position compelling). I only wish to show that this outstanding scholar presents a very tolerant view, one that rejects the Thirteen Principles as determining who is a heretic. I wonder, though, how far he would take this. Lots of scientists and philosophers argue for atheism, and there is no absolute proof for God’s existence. Does this mean that now even atheists are not to be regarded as heretics?
[19] For one example, R. Pinhas Lintop, see here. I write as follows in this post:

Naor calls attention to R. Lintop’s view of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles. Unfortunately, I did not know of this when I wrote my book on the subject. R. Lintop is no fan of Maimonides’ concept of dogma or of Maimonides’ intellectualism in general. He rejects the notion that otherwise pious Jews can be condemned as heretics merely because they don’t accept Maimonides’ principles. He even makes the incredible statement that of the great rabbis, virtually all of them have, at the very least, been in doubt about one fundamental principle.

הנה לא הניח בן לאברהם . . . כמעט אין אחד מראשי חכמינו, החכמים הצדיקים כו’ כו’, אשר לא יטעה או יסתפק באחד משרשי הדת

Are we to regard them all as heretics? Obviously not, which in R. Lintop’s mind shows the futility of Maimonides’ theological exercise, which not only turned Judaism into a religion of catechism, but also indoctrinated people to believe that one who does not affirm certain dogmas is to be persecuted. According to R. Lintop, this is a complete divergence from the talmudic perspective.

Lintop further states that there is no point in dealing with supposed principles of faith that are not explicit in the Talmud.

הגידה נא, אחי, בלא משוא פנים, היש לנו עוד פנים לדון על דבר עקרים ויסודות את אשר לא נזכרו לנו בהדיא במשנה וגמרא?

As for Maimonides’ view that one who is mistaken when it comes to principles of faith is worse than one who actually commits even the worst sins, R. Lintop declares that “this view is very foreign to the spirit of the sages of the Talmud, who did not know philosophy.” As is to be expected, he also cites Rabad’s comment that people greater than Maimonides were mistaken when it came to the matter of God’s incorporeality.

[20] In R. Meir Mazuz’s recent Bayit Ne’eman, no. 196 (13 Shevat 5780), p. 2, he writes about the Ralbag:

וזו הסיבה שרלב”ג פירש דברים מוזרים

Does this mean that R. Mazuz was mocking Ralbag? R. Joseph Zechariah Stern writes (Zekher Yehosef, Even ha-Ezer, no. 61, p. 237):

ועיקר דברי חוט השני הוא נגד סוגיא דעלמא . . . ואשר בכלל דבריו זרים

Was R. Stern mocking anyone?

Eliezer Waldenberg writes about R. Abraham Halevi, author of Ginat Veradim (Tzitz Eliezer, vol. 8, no. 15, p. 80):

כי בתוך דברי התשובה שם וכן בתוך דברי התשובה שלפניה יש שם ג”כ דבריו [!] מוזרים מאד שכמעט קשה לשומעם

Was R. Waldenberg mocking anyone? And what about when rabbis use even harsher language, saying things like אינו נכון כלל? Does this mean that they are mocking the view they are rejecting? Everyone who studies rabbinic literature knows that nothing could be further from the truth. Stating that a view is strange or unusual, and even rejecting a view in harsh terms, has nothing to do with mocking.
[21] That rabbinic scholars often do not study Maimonides’ philosophy is nothing new. R. Jacob Emden noted that if the rabbinic scholars knew philosophy, they would have protested Maimonides’ proof for God’s existence in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Yesodei ha-Torah 1:5, as it is based on the eternity of the world. See Birat Migdal Oz (Warsaw, 1912), p. 20a:

כי הנה המופת הראשון שעשה ע”ז הדרוש בח”ב מס’ [מספרו] הנ”ל מתנועה נצחית תדיר’ (והיא שמצאה חן בעיניו והציגה לבדה עמנו פה בס’ המדע) לקוחה מאריסטו מניח הקדמות, לא יודה בה בעל הדת שהיא בנויה על פנת החדוש. לו ידעו הרבנים התלמודיים בפילוסיפיא לא היו שותקים לו בכאן

[22] Perhaps the “mocking” he sees is the beginning of the paragraph where I write:

To return to the point already mentioned above, if there is one thing Orthodox Jews the world over acknowledge, it is that Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles are the fundamentals of Jewish faith. The common knee-jerk reaction is that there is room for debate in matters of faith, as long as one does not contradict any of these principles.

I then cite a number of great figures who speak of the centrality of the Thirteen Principles (including the Hazon Ish). I used the expression “knee-jerk” as synonymous with “instinctive,” but even stronger, in that the reaction to any divergence from the Principles is strong and immediate, coming from a place of feeling which is prior to any intellectual reaction. Needless to say, there is no mocking.

Regarding statements about the centrality of the Thirteen Principles, let me repeat what I have said elsewhere, and which I will return to in future posts, that the expression “the Thirteen Principles” is more of a shorthand statement about correct belief rather than an affirmation of the Principles themselves in all of their particulars. To give an example of what I mean, it is easy to find statements of rabbis stating that one should not engage with ideas or texts that diverge from the Thirteen Principles. This is a shorthand way of saying that you should not study heresy. However, when the rabbis say that you should not study matters that diverge from the Principles, do any of them mean that you should not study Rashi’s commentary to Deuteronomy 34:5, as it presents a talmudic view about the authorship of the final verses of the Torah that is in opposition to Maimonides’ Eighth Principle? Certainly not, which shows that what Torah scholars mean when they speak of the “Thirteen Principles” is not necessarily what the masses understand by this.
[23] “Rabbi Jacob Emden: Life and Major Works” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Harvard University, 1988)), p. 409.
[24] Re’ah Besamim, p. 40, appendix to his edition of Besamim Rosh (Jerusalem, 1984). Among R. Amar’s other works, mention should be made of his five volume Minhagei ha-Hida.
[25] In Limits, p. 4, I refer to “those scholars who thought that Maimonides’ Principles were wrong.” While in the context of the book, everyone knew that I meant “certain of Maimonides’ Principles” (namely, the ones I discuss), now that I see how the sentence could be misused by being quoted out of context, I wish that I had been more exacting in my language.
[26] See his shiur, “Selichos: Halacha, Hashkafa and Teshuva,” available here, at minute 45:30.

The Seforim Blog is pleased to announce that esteemed Seforim Blog contributor Dr. Marc Shapiro is speaking at Young Israel Beth-El of Boro Park, 4802 15th Avenue in Brooklyn, this coming Saturday night December 21 at 8pm.

The title of his talk is “Judaism and Islam: Some Historical and Halakhic Perspectives”.

For the Sake of Radin!  The Sugar Magnate’s Missing Yarmulke and a Zionist Revision

Israel Brodsky (1823-1888), built an empire on the sugar trade. After inheriting a substantial fortune, in 1843, he became a partner in a sugar refinery.[1] Eventually, he vertically integrated his business, and he controlled sugar beet lands, processing plants, refineries, marketing agencies, and warehouses throughout the Russian Empire. At its height, Brodsky controlled a quarter of all sugar production in the Empire and employed 10,000 people.[2] Brodsky sugar “was a household name from Tiflis to Bukhara to Vladivostok.”[3] Brodsky was a significant philanthropist, donating to Jewish and non-Jewish causes. In Kyiv, he and his sons virtually single-handedly founded the Jewish hospital, Jewish trade school, a free Jewish school, mikveh, and communal kitchen besides substantial individual donations, amounting to 1,000 rubles monthly, and donated to St. Vladimir University. Many of these institutions would bear the Brodsky name. Leading Shalom Aleichem to remark that the “the bible starts with the letter beyes and [Kyiv], you should excuse the comparison, also starts with beyes – for the Brodskys.” [4]

In addition to supporting local causes, he also helped other institutions outside of Kyiv. One was providing an endowment for a kolel at the Volozhin Yeshiva. The institution of the kolel, a communally subsidized institution that supported men after marriage, was originated by R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines (1839-1915). Reines was a student of the Volozhin Yeshiva and would go on to establish the Mizrachi movement and the Lida Yeshiva, both of which were attacked by some in the Orthodox establishment.[5] Invoking the Talmudic passage Rehaim al Tsaverum ve-Yasku be-Torah?!, in 1875, he proposed an institution where “men of intellect . . . will gather to engage in God’s Torah until they are worthy and trained to be adorned with the crown of the rabbinate, that will match the glory of their community, to guide the holy flock in the ways of Torah and the fear of Heaven.” Without the communal funds, these “men of intellect” would “be torn away from the breasts of Torah because of the poverty and lack that oppresses them and their families.”[6] Reines intended that the kolel be associated with Volozhin. And, in 1878, an attempt to create such an institution began taking shape, with the idea to approach the Brodskys for funding. For reasons unknown, this never happened. Instead, through the generosity of Ovadiah Lachman of Berlin, the first kolel was established in 1880. The kolel opened not in Volozhin but Kovno. It would be another six years before Volozhin established its kolel.[7]

In 1886, Brodsky donated a substantial sum to create a kolel in Volozhin. He created an endowment fund that yielded 2,000 rubles annually. But unlike the Kovno kolel that produced some of the greatest rabbis and leaders of the next generation, according to one assessment the Volozhin kolel “had little influence on the yeshiva’s history” nor the general public.[8]

Comparing Brodsky’s donation to the kolel to that of his other contributions demonstrates that this donation was similar to his most significant gifts. His donation was in the form of stock, and while we don’t have an exact estimate of the value of those shares, we can extrapolate the total amount of Brodsky’s donations. Brodsky donated 60 shares of the Kyiv Land Bank, which was intended to produce 2,000 rubles per annum.[9] But the amount of the principle, the 60 stocks, is not provided in the source materials. In 1890, a  similar endowment by the Brodskys produced 3,000 rubles annually from a principle of 50,000 rubles, a 6 percent rate of return. Assuming a similar rate of return, his initial donation to the Volozhin kolel nearly 35,000 rubles. That is the similar amount that he donated to the Kyiv free Jewish school, the St. Vladimir’s University, and Kyiv’s mikve and communal kitchen that all received 40,000-ruble bequests.[10] Consequently, Brodsky’s gift of 60 shares of stock to the Volozhin kolel is comparable to Brodsky’s other institutional donations.

The Brodskys aligned with the Russian Haskalah movement that today we would likely characterize as Modern Orthodox, although admittedly, the definitions of sects are amorphous. The Russian haskalah was notable for embracing modernity while maintaining punctilious observance of halakha. One example that involved both the intersection of society at large and religious practice was that when the Governor-General invited two of Israel’s sons to a prestigious gala at his home, the Governor-General also provided the sons with kosher food.[11] Another example of the Brodskys’ Jewish outlook was their involvement in Kyiv’s Choral Synagogue. Choral synagogues were already established in other cities throughout the Russian Empire, including Warsaw, Vilna, and St. Petersburg. The synagogue, known as the Brodsky Synagogue, was built in 1898 by Israel’s son, Lazer. Modern practices were introduced to the Kyiv Choral Synagogue, but even those are within the bounds of accepted Jewish law.[12] Indeed, those new practices are today unremarkable, hiring a hazan, incorporating a choir into the service, delivering the sermon in Russian, and enforcing decorum during the prayers.[13]

The Haredi histories of Volozhin discuss Brodsky’s contributions to the kolel. But one publication decided that his reputation needed some creative airbrushing to (presumably) make his involvement more palatable to the modern Haredi audience. Despite the fact that other Haredi publications provide an unvarnished version.

One person who met Brodsky described him as resembling that of a biblical patriarch in appearance, yet at the same time non-Jewish.[14] Indeed a photo from 1880, this biblical patriarch appears bareheaded. This lack of head-covering was not an issue for some Haredi authors. For example, Dov Eliach includes this photograph in his history of the Volozhin Yeshiva.[15] In 2001, not ten years after Eliach’s book another Haredi author decided that the photo required adjustment despite sharing the same publisher as Eliach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Menahem Mendel Flato’s book, Besheveli Radin (Radin’s Paths), devotes an entire chapter to Brodsky’s kolel, with his photograph accompanying the text. Yet, in this instance, rather than a bareheaded Brodsky, a crudely drawn yarmulke now appears on his head.[16] This is not the first time that images were doctored to depict a yarmulke where there is none.[17] Those types of alterations occur decades after the original, by different publishing houses, in different cities, and for a different audience.[18] Here, however, Avi ha-Yeshivot and Besheveli Radin share the same audience and are only separated by ten years. [19]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The alternation of Brodsky’s photo is not the only example of such censorship in Besheveli Radin. R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein studied in Volozhin and eventually went on to lead the Yeshivas Kenneset Yisrael in Slabodka. While he was in Volozhin, he was among those who established a proto-Zionist organization, Nes Tsiona. A photograph of the executive members appears in at least three places, yet only in Besheveli Radin is the connection to Nes Tsiona omitted.

In 1960 and 1970, two books published the photo from a copy in Russian Zionist Archives.[20] The 1960s’ version includes a legend that correctly identifies the photo as “the executive committee of the ‘Nes Tsiona’ in Volozhin in 1890.[21] The legend in the 1970 book contains the same language as before, indicating that it is a photograph of the Nes Tsiona executive committee and also identifies each of the men in the picture.[22] Yet, when the same photo appears in Beshvili Radin it is accompanied by an entirely different legend.[23] Instead, Beshvili Radin describes the photograph as depicting “a group of students from Volozhin from those days, R. Moshe Mordechai Epstein who eventually became the rosh yeshiva of Slaboka is sitting second from the right.” The purpose of the group photograph remains a mystery to Beshvili Radin‘s readers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The history of Volozhin is complex and especially among Haredi writers raised issues that are uncomfortable truths.  Some of these authors responded by obscuring or entirely omitting these including the inclusion of secular studies in the curriculum, establishment and membership in non-traditional religious organizations, and the religiosity of some of its students.[24] Beshvilie Radin is but one example.  In his introduction, Flato discusses the purpose of Beshvilie Radin describing it as “providing the reader an entirely new perspective of that era.” We can now say that the “new perspective” is one that at times deviates from the historical record.

[1] Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, s.v. “Israel Markovich Brodsky,” (accessed November 20, 2019), https://ru.wikipedia.org/wiki/Бродский,_Израиль_Маркович (Russian).

[2] Id.; Nathan M. Meyer, Kiev: Jewish Metropolis a History, 1859-1914 (Bloomington: University of Indiana Press, 2010), 39.

[3] Meyer, Kiev, 39.

[4] Meyer, Kiev, 39, 40, 71.

[5] For a biography of Reines see Geulah Bat Yehuda, Ish ha-Meorot: Rebi Yizhak Yaakov Reines (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1985)

[6] Shaul Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas of the Nineteenth Century: Creating a Tradition of Learning, trans. Lindsey Taylor-Guthartz (Oxford, 2015) (original work published 1995 (Hebrew)), 338 (quoting Yitzhak Yaakov Reines, Hotam Tokhnit, vol. 1 (1880), 17n4). For sources regarding the Lida Yeshiva see Eliezer Brodt, “Introduction,” in Mevhar Ketavim m’et R. Moshe Reines ben HaGoan Rebi Yitzhak Yaakov (2018), 12n42. See id. 354-61 for correspondence between the Netziv to R. Yitzhak Yaakov Reines regarding the establishment of a kolel.

[7] Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 337-40. One possibility regarding the failure to start the kolel at that time in Volozhin might be attributable to Reines’ recognition that governmental approval was necessary to establish the kolel.  Volozhin had a difficult relationship with the Tsarist authorities.  See id. at 191-98. Adding a new institution might have been seen as a risk to the operation of the Volozhin yeshiva itself.

[8] Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 358-59.  Among the conditions of the donation was that during the first year after his death ten men were selected and were required to visit the grave R. Hayim Volozhin’s and leading the prayers, and the recitation of the mourner’s kaddish, in addition to daily study of the mishnayot with the commentary of the Vilna Gaon, and leading the services.  The same was done on the yahrzeit of Brodsky’s wife, “ha-Tzkaniyot ha-Meforsemet, Haya.”  Dov Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim Volozhin (Jerusalem, Machon Moreshet Ashkenaz, 2011) (second revised edition), 600-01.  (Thanks to Eliezer Brodt for calling this source to my attention).  The manuscript recording the conditions of Brodsky’s gift is currently in the possession of R. Meshulam Dovid Soloveitchik and portions are reproduced by Eliach.  See id. 601,634-35.

[9] The Land Bank was created in 1877. Michael H. Hamm, Kiev: A Portrait, 1800-1917 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1996), 10-11. The influence of the Brodskys was such that six members of the family were on the board of an earlier established bank, the Kiev Industrial Bank, (1871). This led some to remark that the bank should be referred to as the “Brodsky Family Bank.” Meyer, Kiev, 40. It is unclear if Israel also sat on the Land Bank board or was just an investor.

[10] Meyer, Kiev, 71.

[11] Meyer, Kiev, 40.

[12] Meyer, Kiev, 171-72. For a discussion of Vilna’s Choral Synagogue and its influence on Vilna’s maskilim see Mordechai Zalkin, “The Synagogue as Social Arena:  The Maskilic Synagogue Taharat ha-Kodesh in Vilna,” (Hebrew), in Yashan me-Peni Hadash: Shai le-Emmanuel Etkes, vol. 2, 385-403; see also D. Rabinowitz, “Kol Nidrei, Choirs, and Beethoven:  The Eternity of the Jewish Musical Tradition,” Seforimblog, Sept. 18, 2018.

[13] While today, these practices are unremarkable; at that time, there were some who opposed these changes. See generally Moshe Samet, Ha-Hadah Asur min ha-Torah: Perakim be-Toldot ha-Orthodoxiah (Jerusalem: Karmel, 2005). For an earlier discussion of the propriety of choirs and incorporating music in Jewish religious practices see R. Leon Modena, She’lot ve-Teshuvot Ziknei Yehuda, Shlomo Simonson ed. (Jerusalem: Mossad HaRav Kook, 1957, 15-20.

[14] Sergey Yulievich Vitte, Childhood During the Reigns of Alexander II and Alexander III (Russian) at 160.

[15] Dov Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim mi-Volozhin (Jerusalem: Machon Moreshet HaYeshivot, 1991), 269. This photograph remains in Eliach’s second and updated version of Avi ha-Yeshivot printed in 2011.  See Eliach, Avi ha-Yeshivot: MaRan Rabbenu Hayim me-Volozhin (Jerusalem: Machon HaYeshivot, 2011), 292.  Although there are two changes in this version.  First, the “well-known philanthropist” becomes a “Rebi” and conveniently the top of the Rebi’s head is cut off so that one can’t tell if the Rebi is wearing a yarmulke.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[16] Menahem Mendel Flato, Besheveli Radin… ([Petach Tikvah]:  Machon beSheveli haYeshivos, 2001), 31; Marc Shapiro, Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History (Oxford: Littman Library, 2015), 136. Flato combines both of Eliach’s honorifics into “the philanthropist Rebi Yisrael Brodsky.”

[17] See Dan Rabinowitz, “Yarlmuke: A Historic Coverup?,” Hakirah vol. 4 (2007), 229-38.

[18] For examples see Shapiro, Changing the Immutable.

[19] Another Haredi history of Volozhin published the same year as Beshvili Radin also includes the unaltered photograph.  Tanhum Frank, Toledot Beit HaShem be-Volozhin (Jerusalem, 2001), 254.

[20] Yahadut Lita vol. 1 (Tel Aviv: 1960), 507; Eliezer Leone, Volozhin: Sefrah shel ha-Ir ve-shel Yeshivat Ets Hayim (Tel Aviv: Naot, 1970), 121. Despite the attribution to the Russian Jewish Archive there is no other information regarding this archive.

[21] Yahadut Lita, 507. Regarding Nes Tsiona see Stampfer, Lithuanian Yeshivas, 170-72

[22] Leone, Volozhin, 121.

[23] Another Haredi history of Volozhin also uses the same photograph but crops out all but just Epstein. See Frank, Toledot, 256. But in that instance the photo is used as part of a collage of rabbinic figures and explains why the other people are missing.

[24] Stampfer, Lithuanain Yeshivas, 43, 206-07, (secular studies), 167-178 (societies), Abba Bolsher, “Yeshivas Volozhin be-Tukufat Bialik,” in Yeshivas Lita: Perkei Zikronot, eds. Emmanuel Etkes and Shlomo Tikochinski (Jerusalem:  Zalman Shazer Center, 2004, Menahem Mendel Zlotkin, “Yeshivas Volozhin be-Tekufat Bialik,” in Etkes, Perkei, 182-92 (histories of Volozhin’s perhaps most well-known black sheep during his time there).

Apostates and More, Part 1

Marc B. Shapiro

Continued from here

1. I am aware of two seforim found on both Otzar haHochma and Hebrewbooks.org which were written by men who later apostatized (there are probably more). There are also two seforim on Hebrewbooks.org which were written by someone afterhe apostatized. I realize that after this post appears it is possible that the books mentioned will be removed from Otzar haHochma and Hebrewbooks.org (as has happened in the past with problematic books that I called attention to). I am therefore providing links so that readers can access the books even if they are removed.

The first book by someone who later apostatized is Solomon Florentin’s Doresh Mishpat, published in Salonika in 1655. As mentioned, appears on both hebrewbooks.org and Otzar haHochma.

Here is the title page.

You can view the entire book here here.

Florentin was a follower of Shabbetai Zvi and was one of the group of Salonikan Jews who converted to Islam following Shabbetai Zvi’s own conversion.[1]

The second future apostate whose book appears on Hebrewbooks.org and Otzar haHochma is Aaron Israel Briman. He wrote Avnei Zikaron, which was published in Amsterdam around 1880.[2] Here is the title page.

You can view the entire book here here.

Briman, who appears to have been an ordained rabbi, was a real scoundrel. After his apostasy, which seems to have been done completely for monetary reasons, he wrote the infamous anti-Semitic work Der Judenspiegel and assisted the anti-Semite August Rohling in his attacks against the Talmud and Judaism in general.[3]  He also abandoned his wife and two small children, leaving his wife an agunah. After becoming a Christian, he engaged in various monetary frauds which landed him in prison. According to the article here in the Jewish Encyclopedia, he studied in the Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin, a point confirmed by Gotthard Deutsch.[4]

As for seforim written by someone after he converted, this brings us to Jehiel Zvi Lichtenstein (1827-1912; in his earlier years the last name he used was Hirschensohn, and I don’t know why he changed it). Detailed biographical information about Lichtenstein can be found in a good article by Samuel Leib Zitron included in volume 2 of his Me-Ahorei ha-Pargod: Mumarim, Bogdim, Mitkaḥashim that fortunately is also found online here. There is, however, no scholarly article on the writings of Lichtenstein, and although he was infamous in his day, today he is almost entirely forgotten.[5]

Lichtenstein was born in Bessarabia and was already an accomplished scholar as a young man. He was married at 18 to the daughter of a wealthy man, and he could have entered the rabbinate like so many others in his position. Yet as described by Zitron (and it appears that his description has been livened up, so it is not always clear if the facts are correct), various circumstances led him to divorce his wife, abandon his home, and convert to Christianity and become an enthusiastic missionary. Incredibly, even after converting to Christianity he continued to live as a Jew, moving to the town of Lubavitch where by all outward appearances he was a hasid of the Lubavitcher Rebbe.

Following this he went to Berlin where he was an open missionary. He then returned to Russia where he married the sister of the well-known Jewish-Christian missionary, Joseph Rabinowitz. In 1995 Kai Kjaer-Hansen published the English version of his book on Rabinowitz,[6] referring to him on the book’s cover and title page as the “Herzl of Jewish Christianity.”[7]

In 1872, after his apostasy, Lichtenstein published his book Derekh ha-Kodesh. The book was published in Berlin. I don’t know why the title page says it was printed in Russia, though this probably has something to do with taxes or customs for books sent to foreign countries.

As you can see, this is the second printing and Lichtenstein gave himself a fancy rabbinic title. I have never seen a copy of the first printing, but Ephraim Deinard states that Lichtenstein’s name did not appear on the title page of this edition.[8]

Zitron tells us that Lichtenstein returned to his hometown where he distributed Derekh ha-Kodesh among the local Hasidim. The book reads like a real rabbinic text, and on the very first page he cites both the Baal Shem Tov and R. Shneur Zalman of Liady, and he continues to cite R. Shneur Zalman constantly in the book. It is obvious from what he writes elsewhere that he pretended to be a Chabad hasid. Thus, in his self-defense published in Ha-Magid [9], when he was still pretending to be a faithful Jew, he mentions that he had lived in the town of Lubavitch. In seeking to defend Derekh ha-Kodesh from the accusation that it had Christian elements, he calls for it to be examined by leading Chabad rabbis to see if there is anything problematic in the book.

.ואקרא לשופטי צדק את רבני חב”ד הגדולים אשר ירדו לעמקי הלכה של הקבלה והחסידות הדבקים באלהים חיים המה יאמרו אם עולתה בו

His call was taken up by Jacob Solomon Alschwang who claimed to have a lot of knowledge in Kabbalah and hasidic thought, “like one of the great Chabad rabbis.”[10]  I am sure that this self-judgment contains a good deal of exaggeration, yet Alschwang did come from a Chabad background and received a traditional Chabad education before leaving that world for the world of Haskalah.[11]

Alschwang identifies a number of passages in the book which he thinks are evidence of the author’s Christian sentiments.[12] Experts in Kabbalah and Hasidism can weigh in on whether Alschwang is correct or if the passages he points to can also be supported by classic kabbalistic or hasidic texts.

One of the passages Alschwang points to is on p. 68, which according to Alschwang means that Lichtenstein is speaking of God taking physical form on earth.

וע”ז נא’ עיני ה’ המה משוטטים בכל הארץ (זכריה ד, י) שענין משוטטים היינו שמתפשטים ומתלבשים בכל הארץ, והש”י משגיח בארץ ע”י שמתלבש בהם כי המה הם כלים רוחניים שהאציל וברא להשתמש בהם, והם מתפשטים ומתלבשים בתחתונים, והמה כמו העינים אל [של] האדם שהאדם יביט בהם והשכל מתלבש בהם לראות, וכן הוא הענין באזני ה

So, what do readers think? Does this passage speak of God literally assuming some bodily form? Furthermore, can we find similar passages in standard kabbalistic texts?

Alschwang also calls attention to Derekh ha-Kodesh, p. 42, where Lichtenstein states that God will appear to prophets in a physical form. Although Lichtenstein adds that God does not really take physical form, but only appears this way, Alschwang sees this as an example of Lichtenstein is trying to push a Christian notion. I guess the idea would be to first get Jews used to the notion that God can be imagined looking like a human, and the next step is to identify a real flesh and blood human as God. Here are Lichtenstein’s words:

כי העולם הזה בכללו הוא אלהות גמור מצד שאינו נראה לנו, אך לעינינו עשה האלהים על עצמו גילוי וצורה ויתחפש בדמות גשמי (זיך זעלבסט ענטשטעלט) אשר הנבראים ישיגו בחושיהם הגשמיים (אשר גם הם רק לעיניהם) דמות וצורה גשמית ארבע יסודות ומורכביהם, דומם צומח חי מדבר וכו’, אולם לעומת הש”י הכל אלהות גמור ואין פה גילוי ודמות גשמי ומהות כלל

Alschwang also notes that on page 7 Lichtenstein makes use of the famous expression from Matthew 19:24, “It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle,” which is not what one would expect to find in a rabbinic text.

At one time in his strange life, Lichtenstein actually began serving as a hasidic rebbe of sorts, praying for people and handing out amulets. Ephraim Deinard, who knew Lichtenstein from the latter’s missionary days in Berlin in the 1870s,[13] claims that it was he who exposed Lichtenstein as a fraud. He happened to be in Lichtenstein’s town on a business trip in 1879, and that is how the townspeople learned that the supposedly pious rebbe was actually a Christian missionary.[14] Even after being exposed Lichtenstein did not give up, and a few years later he was in Podolia serving as a rabbi![15]

Derekh ha-Kodesh is only found on hebrewbooks.org, not on Otzar haHochma. You can view it here. The copy on hebrewbooks.org is missing the second half of the book. It appears that not all printings of the book contained the second part which includes a commentary on various biblical passages. (Alschwang mentions that his copy only had 84 pages, which means that it also was missing the second half.). Here is the copy which is found at Harvard, which is almost twice as long as the copy on hebrewbooks.org.[16] Interestingly, in the copy found on hebrewbooks.org (and also in the complete Harvard copy), on the second page, there are corrections applicable to the missing second half of the book. Also of note is at the bottom of this page of corrections it states that the haskamot for the book were published in the first printing. As far as I can determine, no copies of this first printing have survived.

Zitron tells us that in 1882 Lichtenstein came to Odessa with the manuscript of his book, Sheva Hokhmot. He received haskamot for the book from rabbis and maskilim. Here is the title page of the London 1912 edition of Sheva Hokhmot and you can view the book here.[17]

This is a very helpful work which in alphabetical fashion discusses all the geographical sites mentioned in the Talmud and Midrash.[18] The book previously appeared in Lemberg in 1883 and can be viewed here. The title page of the Lemberg edition mentions that Lichtenstein wrote the responsa volume Keren ha-Tzvi and the book Megaleh Sod. While Keren ha-Tzvi never appeared, Megaleh Sod, which is a commentary on the Bible, was published in Budapest in 1906 and can be viewed here. It is incredible that an apostate would write such a commentary which on its face looks like any other traditional commentary. (I haven’t read it carefully to see if he also inserts Christian interpretations.)

The actual text of both editions of Sheva Hokhmot is the same, but there are some differences between the prefaces of the two volumes. In the first edition the preface is longer, contains some notes, and also includes a list of the rabbis and scholars who prepaid for the book. In the London edition, Lichtenstein included a passage from R. Aaron Hyman’s Toledot Tannaim ve-Amoraim (London, 1910), vol. 1, p. 15, which greatly praises the book and the author, with Hyman saying that Lichtenstein is “wise in the wisdom of the Torah.” Hyman obviously must have been unaware of who Lichtenstein was.

That people did not realize who Lichtenstein was explains how a copy of Derekh ha-Kodesh was bound with regular traditional seforim (including R. Moses Cordovero’s Tomer Devorah), as seen in a recent auction here.[19]

As you can see from the title pages of Derekh ha-Kodesh and Sheva Hokhmot, both of these books, now found on hebrewbooks.org, came from the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad.[20] You can also see from the title page of Sheva Hokhmot that, before it was acquired by the Library of Agudas Chassidei Chabad, it belonged to the great scholar Jacob Zallel Lauterbach.

With reference to Lichtenstein, Steven J. Zipperstein writes as follows:

His Sheva Hokhmot [The Seven Wisdoms] was introduced by letters of praise from important scholars such as Mattityahu Strashun, Samuel Joseph Fuenn, and others, though the book appeared three years after Lichtenstein was first denounced as a missionary (by the rather mercurial and widely disliked Ephraim Deinard) in the newspaper Ha-Maggid.[21]

Zipperstein’s information about the letters in Sheva Hokhmot comes from Zitron, who also claims that these haskamot were forged by Lichtenstein. Yet there are no such haskamot from these figures, forged or otherwise. In the 1883 edition of the book, p. 6, we are given a list of people who wrote haskamot and letters of praise (including R. Joseph Dov Soloveitchik, the Beit ha-Levi), but these were never published, not even in the 1912 edition. I have no reason to doubt that these haskamot and letters of praise were authentic, otherwise how could he have publicly announced in the various authors’ lifetimes that he received letters from them? However, these letters were also written before news of his apostasy was known.

What makes Derekh ha-Kodesh and Sheva Hokhmot so interesting is that they were both written after Lichtenstein had become a Christian, something you would never know from the title pages. I don’t know of any other such books, namely, seforim written in a rabbinic style by someone who had already converted to Christianity.

This is a picture of Lichtenstein that I found on a Messianic Jewish website here.

Here is the title page of Lichtenstein’s Hizuk Emunat Emet bi-Yeshua Mashiah ben ha-Elohim.[22]

You can find the entire book here. The author is listed as אבן צהר, which is simply the Hebrew translation of the name Lichtenstein. Also, צהר is the abbreviation of צבי הירשנזון, the birth name of the author.[23]

Lichtenstein also wrote a multi-volume Hebrew commentary on the New Testament, which you can see here. The commentary is preceded by a helpful article on Lichtenstein by Jorge Quiñónez. Lichtenstein’s revised commentary on Matthew can be seen here.[24]

There is an entry on Lichtenstein in Zalmen Reyzen’s Yiddish Lexicon.[25] Yet one of the sources in the bibliography is about Isaac Lichtenstein. This Lichtenstein is often confused with Jehiel Zvi Lichtenstein whom we have been discussing. However, they were two separate people, and Isaac Lichtenstein (1824-1908), who was actually a rabbi, was also a believer in Jesus (although it is reported that he never actually converted to Christianity).

This is his picture taken from here.

The following picture comes from here

There was another Chabad hasid, Israel Landau, who converted to Christianity and became the chief Russian censor. In Ruth Bachi-Kolodny’s article about him, entitled “The Chabadnik Who Became Czarist Russia’s Chief Censor for Jewish Writings,” available here, he is even referred to as a rabbi, but this is certainly not correct, and the description of him as a rabbi does not appear in the original Hebrew version of the article here. The article states:

Although he became an apostate Jew, he remained, deep in his heart, a devoutly religious Hasid and continued to look the part with his short trimmed beard, earlocks, skullcap and long, broad kapota ‏(the long black jacket of members of Chabad‏); he would eat only in kosher restaurants. In fact, Landau sent his wife and only daughter, Menuha, to Switzerland so they could live as Jews without any external hindrances.[26]

Ben Zion Dinur, who was from a Chabad family, mentions that it was jokingly said about Landau that even after apostatizing he still kept the holiday of 19 Kislev.[27] As for Landau’s wife and daughter, Ephraim Deinard, who knew Landau, states that they left Russia because they did not want to convert, not because Landau sent them out.[28]

My experience has been that as soon as I publish something, I find more relevant material and wish I could go back in time to include it in the publication. Fortunately, with the Seforim Blog I am able to update my writings. Not long ago I published Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan. On pp. 300-301, R. Meir Mazuz writes that he read in Yated Ne’eman that the apostate Russian censor removed two lines from Bialik’s poem about the Kishinev pogrom of 1903, “In the City of Slaughter,” because he found them heretical and did not want to lose his share in the World to Come! I was not aware of this story but I looked at the poem and immediately identified what these two lines must be. In fact, as I only learned after the book was published, it was actually the following four lines that were deleted, and the censor who was responsible for this was none other than Landau.[29]

,סִלְחוּ לִי, עֲלוּבֵי עוֹלָם, אֱלֹהֵיכֶם עָנִי כְמוֹתְכֶם
עָנִי הוּא בְחַיֵּיכֶם וְקַל וָחֹמֶר בְּמוֹתְכֶם
–כִּי תָבֹאוּ מָחָר עַל-שְׂכַרְכֶם וּדְפַקְתֶּם עַל-דְּלָתָי
!אֶפְתְּחָה לָכֶם, בֹּאוּ וּרְאוּ: יָרַדְתִּי מִנְּכָסָי

Forgive me, beggars of the world, your God is as poor as you,
Poor he is in your living and so much more so in your deaths.
And if you come tomorrow for your due and knock on my doors—
I’ll open for you, come and look: I’ve gone down in the world.[30]

The story of the censorship is told by Benzion Katz in his memoir, in a chapter that deserves to be translated into English.[31] Katz was the founder and editor of the newspaper Ha-Zeman, where Bialik’s poem appeared. If you look in Ha-Zeman you will find that the title of the poem was changed to “Masa Nemirov”, and a note informs the reader of the infamous 1648 massacre in Nemirov. As Katz explains, this new title was suggested by Landau, who was willing to look the other way if Bialik and Katz would pretend that the words were not about the 1903 Kishinev pogrom but about another event 250 years prior.

As for the censorship of the lines mentioned above, Katz writes as follows (p. 135):

כשהיה הכל מוכן נתתי לו לקרוא את השירה. הכל נראה לו כשר, חוץ מנקודות אחדות, שלדעתו התריס שם ביאליק נגד א-לוהים. אין הוא יכול להרשות זאת – אמר הצנזור המומר. – בשביל הממשלה ימצא תמיד תירוץ אבל לא בשביל רבונו של עולם. “אינני צעיר ואצטרך לתת דין וחשבון בעולם הבא. אינני רוצה להפסיד את חלקי בעולם הבא”

Landau would not permit some lines to appear in the poem as he did not want to lose his share in the World to Come. Bialik wrote to the censor to defend himself and the censor replied as follows (as summarized by Katz, p. 135), pointing out among other things that Bialik had misunderstood the Zohar :

הוא הצעיר, אף על פי שהוא משורר גדול, מביא לי ראיות מן הזוהר הקדוש, שבו יש ביטויים שהם כביכול גם כן עלבון לקדוש ברוך הוא, אבל אלה אינם עלבונות אלא ביטויי צער וזעם. אני בקי בזוהר. אני לומד אותו יותר ממנו. אני הרשיתי להדפיס את הזוהר מה שלא הרשו הצנזורים הקודמים. היו מביאים את הספר בגניבה מחוץ לארץ. נגד א-לוהים אי אפשר לעשות כלום

All this goes to show that while you can take the Jew out of the shtetl, often (even with apostates) you can’t take the shtetl out of the Jew.

To be continued

2. I want to call attention to four recent valuable books. The first is Mitchell First, Roots and Rituals: Insights into Hebrew, Holidays, andHistory. This book is full of interesting chapters on liturgy, history, holidays, and the Hebrew language. If, like me, you have enjoyed First’s posts on the Seforim Blog, then his latest book will be a treat.

The second book is Bezalel Naor’s translation of R. Kook’s Commentary to the Legends of Rabbah bar Hannah. This book only further solidifies Naor’s standing as the leading interpreter of R. Kook in the English language. In addition to extensive notes, Naor also includes 11 appendices which include such topics such as R. Kook’s critique of the Mussar Movement and R. Kook and the Dybbuk in Jaffa.

The third book is a joint effort by the eminent scholars Menachem Kellner and James Diamond. Its title is Reinventing Maimonides in Contemporary Jewish Thought, published by my favorite press, Littman Library. This is a collection of articles by Kellner and Diamond which focus on various important Torah scholars and their understanding of Maimonides.

Here is the table of contents.

Anyone interested in nineteenth- and twentieth-century rabbinic thinkers will find this work of value.

The fourth book is Yitz Greenberg and Modern Orthodoxy: The Road Not Taken, edited by Adam Ferziger, Miri Freud-Kandel, Steven Bayme. This book, which is full of great essays, is available in paperback here, and this is the table of contents.

 

3. R. Yissachar Dov Hoffman was kind enough to send me this picture of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik and R. Ovadiah Yosef from April 25, 1974.[32]

My question to readers is, can anyone identify the three young men standing behind the rabbis?

4. Anyone interested in my summer 2020 trips with Torah in Motion can find details here.
5. For those in the New York area, I will be speaking at Young Israel-Beth El of Boro Park (4802 15^thAvenue, Brooklyn) on Saturday night, December 21 at 8pm. The title of my talk is “Judaism and Islam: Some Halakhic and Historical Perspectives”.
   

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[1] See Meir Benayahu, Ha-Tenuah ha-Shabta’it be-Yavan (Jerusalem, 1971-1978), pp. 35-36.
[2] Regarding Briman and his book, which is actually a complete plagiarism – the entire book lifted word for word from R. Abraham Wallerstein, Mahazeh Avraham, found in Wallerstein’s Ma’amar Avraham (Fuerth, 1757) – see Shmuel Ashkenazi, Asufah (Jerusalem, 2014), pp 53-55.
[3] See Joseph Samuel Bloch, Zikhronot Mimei Hayai, trans. S. Shalom, (Tel Aviv, n. d), vol. 1, pp. 84ff.
[4] See his letter in the Jewish Chronicle, June 26, 1914, conveniently posted in On the Main Line here. See also On the Main Line here for a fascinating post dealing with another apostate who appears to have been a rabbi.

For detailed discussions of Briman, see Samuel Leib Zitron’s article from volume 2 of his Me-Ahorei ha-Pargod: Mumarim, Bogdim, Mitkaḥashim, available here; Joseph Samuel Bloch, Zikhronot mimei Hayai (Tel Aviv, n.d.), vol. 1, pp 81ff.; Ha-Melitz, April 24, 1885, cols. 440-441. For numerous contemporary references to Briman, see Jonatan Meir, Literary Hasidism: The Life and Works of Michael Levi Rodkinson, trans. Jeffrey G. Amshalem (Syracuse, 2016), p. 167 n. 201. Unfortunately, Meir, p. 169 n. 214, cites Chaim Bloch – about whom I have a written a good deal on this blog – without realizing that none of the unpublished material Bloch claimed to possess can be assumed to be authentic. Regarding Bloch, see also Tesla Lee’s 2016 honors thesis at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, “Sigmund Freud and Chajim Bloch: Exploring the Role of the Jewish Joke in European Jewish Identity,” available here. On pp. 5-6, Lee mentions another fabrication by Bloch. Bloch describes how he offered Freud his criticisms of Moses and Monotheism, yet we know that Freud did not begin working on this book until years after Bloch’s supposed conversation with him. For a recent discussion of Bloch and his role in popularizing the Golem story, see Samuel Jacob Spinner, “Jews behind Glass: The Ethnographic Impulse in German-Jewish and Yiddish Literature, 1900-1948” (unpublished doctoral dissertation, Columbia University, 2012) pp. 89ff.
[5] The biographical information I provide about Lichtenstein comes from Zitron. Here is what the Encyclopaedia Judaica, s.v. Hirschensohn-Lichtenstein, Jehiel Zevi Hermann, writes:

Born in Russia, he converted to Christianity in 1855 in Jassy, Rumania, but keeping this secret he spent some time among the Hasidim of Lubavitch and worked on his Derekh ha-Kodesh (“The Way of Holiness,” 1872), which deals with the fundamentals of the Jewish faith, but betrays the authors Christianizing tendencies. From 1868-1878 he worked, under the name of Hermann Lichtenstein, for the Protestant mission in Berlin. He then returned to Russia where, disguised as a hasidic rabbi, he distributed his book. He married in Kishinev, Moldavia, a sister of Joseph Rabinovich, who later, probably under Hirschensohn’s influence, founded the sect called Community of Evangelian Jews. His true character discovered, he had to leave Russia and became lecturer at Franz Delitzsch’s Institutum Judaicaum at Leipzig.

[6] Joseph Rabinowitz and the Messianic Movement (Edinburgh, 1995).
[7] This title was earlier given to Rabinowitz by Hugh J. Schonfield, The History of Jewish Christianity p. 5, available here.
[8] Zikhronot Bat Ami (St. Louis, 1920), vol. 2, p. 134.
[9] Ha-Magid, May 7, 1885, p. 144.
[10] Ha-Magid, June 25, 1885, pp. 208-209.
[11] See his autobiography in Sefer Zikaron le-Sofrei Yisrael ha-Hayyim Itanu ka-Yom (Warsaw, 1889), pp. 203ff, available here. He wrote under the pseudonym ישביאל. See Saul Chajes, Otzar Beduyei ha-Shem (Vienna, 1933), p. 173. The title of the book mentioned at the beginning of this note is of interest, as it is a “memorial volume” for living writers. Today I think we would only use the words “Sefer Zikaron” for people who are deceased. It is also of interest that in the past there were writers who used ז”ל either as זכרונו לברכה or זכור לטוב for living people. See Tovia Preschel, Ma’amrei Tuvyah, vol. 1, pp. 35, 324-325, vol. 4, p. 418.

In 1878, R. Isaac Moses Abulafia published his Lev Nishbar. Here is the title page.

This book is a defense of his halakhic rulings in his responsa Penei Yitzhak against the blistering criticisms of R. Solomon Moses Gaguine in his Yismah Levav. Of interest at present is Lev Nishbar, no. 3 (p. 12b). R. Abulafia notes that R. Gaguine refers to him with ז”ל after his name, and he is certain that this was not done in accord with the view mentioned above that ז”ל can be used even with living people. Rather, he sees this as an intentional insult, and as he puts it, כונתו לרעה. This might mean that he believes that R. Gaguine, by using ז”ל after his name, is hoping for his death.

והן עתה הביאני חדריו וכתב עלי תיבת ז”ל כנז”ל וה’ יודע ועד עליו אם כונתו לרעה עלי והלב יודע אם לעקל וכו’ ועכ”פ מדקפיד בכל דוכתא ודוכתא אך בחלקות ישית להבדיל בין המתים ובין החיים בתיבת ז”ל ונר”ו כנז”ל ומדשינה עתה הפעם לכתוב עלי ז”ל במקום נר”ו הא ודאי דקפידה הוי וכונתו לרעה ב”מ

See also what R. Abulafia writes in his introduction and the first page of the opening responsum, where you can see that he is not inclined to be generous in his interpretation of R. Gaguine’s intent.

Regarding the dispute between Rabbis Abulafia and Gaguin, see Yaron Haarel, “Hashpa’atam shel ha-Sefarim Penei Yitzhak, Yismah Lev ve-Lev Nishbar al ha-Ma’avak Saviv ha-Rabanut be-Damesek,” Asuput 11 (1998), pp. 211-243.
[12] That the book contains hints to Lichtenstein’s belief in Jesus is also stated by Samuel Shraga Feigensohn, Elbonah Shel Torah (Berlin, 1929), p. 28b.
[13] Deinard, Zikhronot Bat Ami (New Orleans, 1920), vol. 2, p. 133.
[14] Ha-Magid, April 9, 1885, p. 112. See here that in his later years, Lichtenstein’s Christian missionary students would call him “Rebbe”. This source describes Lichtenstein as serving as a hasidic rebbe before adopting Christianity, but that is not correct.
[15] Deinard in Ha-Magid, April 9, 1885, p. 112. Deinard, Zikhronot Bat Ami, vol. 2, p. 137, reports that Lichtenstein served as a rabbi in Hungary. In Tzelem ba-Heikhal (New Orleans, n.d.), p. 143, Deinard writes that he was a rabbi for a short time in a town in the Austrian empire. Feigensohn, Elbonah Shel Torah, p. 28b, states that he served as the rabbi in a town in Volhynia for eight years, but there is no evidence to support this statement
[16] See Jacob Solomon Alschwang, Ha-Magid, June 25, 1885, p. 209, that David Kahana had additional pages from the book which are missing from the Harvard copy. These pages, from a section entitled Even Bohan, are explicitly Christian, as they cite Jesus and Paul, and this is no doubt why they were removed. In what looks like a defense of Even Bohan, Lichtenstein, Derekh ha-Kodesh, p. 83 in the note, states that this section was written for Christians and Muslims and deals with the Noahide laws. This is, of course, not believable, as Christians and Muslims would not be reading his Hebrew work.
[17] Deinard, Zikhronot Bat Ami, vol. 2, p. 137, claims that it was actually printed in Eastern Europe, but R. Mazin in London bought the entire printing and put a new title page on the book.
[18] The title “Seven Wisdoms” is strange as it is really not relevant to the subject of the book. Regarding the “Seven Wisdoms,” see Harry Austryn Wolfson, Studies in the History of Philosophy and Religion (Cambridge, MA, 1973), vol. 1, pp. 507ff. Abarbanel, Commentary to Exodus, ch. 25, p. 253, writes:

שבעת הנרות שבמנורה רומזים אל שבע החכמות שכלם ימצאו בתורת הא-להים

[19] In my post here, I briefly discussed the apostate Paul Levertoff. I neglected to mention that before he converted, Levertoff, whose Jewish first name was Feivel, was one of the future historian Ben Zion Dinur’s teachers in heder. See Dinur, Be-Olam she-Shaka (Jerusalem, 1958), p. 26.
[20] This library has a number of heretical books, and R. Joseph Isaac Schneersohn’s earlier collection also contained books of this sort. R. Menachem Mendel Schneerson stated:

When I came to Leningrad, I was surprised to find various [anti-religious] books in my father-in-law’s library. . . . The reason, obviously, was . . . the library attracted non-religious Jews, and even Gentiles. In the meantime, they saw what Lubavitch was and that it shares knowledge, and were drawn to it as a result. This created the opportunity to speak with non-Jews about justice, honesty, and humanity, the Seven Noahide Laws, etc. The benefit was quite evident.

On another occasion, the Rebbe explained that his father-in-law needed such books, for “such things are also necessary for good purposes, as the Mishnah [Avot 2:14] states, ‘Know what to answer a heretic.’” Both of these passages appear in R. Baruch Oberlander’s and R. Elchanan Shmotkin’s beautifully produced work on the Rebbe, Early Years (Brooklyn, 2016), pp. 167, 168.

Ephraim Deinard, Zikhronot Bat Ami, vol. 2, p. 7, reports, as an eye-witness, that R. Shmuel Schneersohn read Haskalah works before he became rebbe of Lubavitch. It is hard to know whether Deinard is to be regarded as reliable in this matter as his antipathy to Chabad is apparent throughout his writings. See especially ibid., p. 16, where among other things he states:

.החסידים היותר רעים ומסוכנים לתורת ישראל, המה חסידי חב”ד

Deinard even falsely claims, ibid., p. 8, that the responsa of R. Menahem Mendel Schneersohn, the Tzemah Tzedek, were really written by R. Hayyim Jacob Widerwitz. In Chabad texts, R. Widerwitz is referred to as the editor of the Tzemah Tzedek’s responsa. See R. Shalom Duber Levin, Toldot Habad be-Artzot ha-Berit (Brooklyn, 1988), p. 3.
[21] “Heresy, Apostasy, and the Transformation of Joseph Rabinovich,” in Todd M. Endelman, ed., Jewish Apostasy in the Modern World (New York, 1987), p. 213. Contrary to what Zipperstein states, Sheva Hokhmot was published in 1883, and only in 1885 did Deinard denounce Lichtenstein. This information appears correctly in Zitron.
[22] The book can be seen here, along with two other Christian works by Lichtenstein and an obituary of him.
[23] See Zitron here.
[24] For more on Lichtenstein, see Ephraim Deinard, Ha-Magid, April 9, 1885, p. 112; Isaac Jacob Weissberg, Ha-Melitz, May 11, 1885, pp. 515-516; Deinard, Ha-Melitz, May 29, 1885, cols. 580-581; S. Mandelkern, Ha-Magid, June 11, 1885, pp. 190-192. See also David Assaf, Hetzitz ve-Lo Nifga (Haifa, 2012), pp. 75-76.
[25] Leḳsiḳon fun der Yidisher liṭeraṭur, prese un filologye (Vilna, 1927), vol. 2, cols. 151-154, available here. An abridged entry is found in the later edition of Reyzen’s lexicon, and you can see an English translation here.
[26] I should note that not everything Bachi-Kolodny cites from Benzion Katz’s memoir, Zikhronot (Tel Aviv, 1963), actually appears there. She also writes: “Interior Minister Vyacheslav Konstantinovich von Plehve issued orders that a pogrom be carried out in Kishinev ‏(now Chisinau, Moldova‏) in April 1903, on Passover, to expedite the Jews’ exit.” This is incorrect, as no such orders were ever issued by the unquestionably anti-Semitic Plehve. See Steven J. Zipperstein, Pogrom: Kishinev and the Tilt of History (New York, 2018), 94ff.
[27] Be-Olam she-Shaka, p. 13. Incidentally, Dinur tells us, pp. 17-18, that in his Chabad home in Russia they drank milk that came from non-Jews, rather than halav yisrael. This is what he writes about his father, who was a real Torah scholar.

זכורני, פעם אחת בא הביתה ואמר לאמא: היתה לי היום עגמת נפש מזה שאת משתמשת בחלב של לא-יהודים. תמהה אמא ושאלה: מאין יודעים? אמר אבא: אני סיפרתי את הדבר. התפלאה אמא: מה ראית להודיע ברבים? אמר: פשוט, התקיפו בבית-המדרש את דוד המלמד, שהוא משתמש בחלב נכרים, והלבינו את פניו. קמתי ואמרתי: מה אתם רוצים ממנו, גם אצלי נוהגים כך! ך

This is significant testimony, as it is well known how seriously Chabad hasidim regard this matter. There is even a story about how a big scholar who came to R. Shneur Zalman of Lyady was suffering from religious doubts. R. Shneur Zalman recognized that these doubts came about because the man had inadvertently drunk non-halav Yisrael milk. See R. Joseph Isaac Schneersohn, Sefer ha-Ma’amarim 5701-5705 (Brooklyn, 2012), Hebrew version, pp. 76-77.
[28] Deinard, Tzelem ba-Heikhal, p. 169. See also Deinard, Shibolim Bodedot (Jerusalem, 1915), pp. 58ff, for Deinard’s letter to Landau which among other things urges him to return to Judaism. See ibid., pp. 176-177, for Landau’s revealing letter to Deinard. As far as I know, neither of these letters have been mentioned by scholars who have discussed Landau. They are, however, mentioned here.

Shimon Steinmetz called my attention to a memoir by another former Chabad hasid who became a missionary. See Elieser Bassin, The Modern Hebrew and the Hebrew Christian (London, 1882), available here.
[29] A reproduction of the original publication from Ha-Zeman (July-Sep. 1904), is found in Michael Gluzan, Hannan Hever, and Dan Miron, Be-Ir ha-Haregah – Bikur Meuhar (Tel Aviv, 2005), pp. 158-168.
[30] Songs from Bialik, translated by Atar Hadari (Syracuse, 2000), p. 5.
[31] Zikhronot, ch. 37.
[32] R. Aharon Rakeffet provides another picture from this particular visit of R. Ovadiah. See The Rav: The World of Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik, vol. 2, in the pictures that begin after p. 135, available here. I thank R. Yissachar Dov Hoffman for providing this information as well. He also called my attention to the following additional picture of the Rav and R. Ovadiah from this visit, taken from here.

Copies of Marc Shapiro’s recent work Iggerot Malkhei Rabbanan mentioned here, are now available for purchase in Israel. To purchase contact Eliezerbrodt@gmail.com.