Book Launch of the Koren Rav Kook Siddur

Seforim Blog contributor Rabbi Bezalel Naor has just published a major work, the Koren Rav Kook Siddur.

Culled from Rav Kook’s own commentary to the Siddur, Olat Re’iyah, and other writings of Rav Kook, as well as rich anecdotes transmitted by Rav Kook’s son and major disciples, The Koren Rav Kook Siddur speaks to the soul, while it connects us all to the sacred soil of the Holy Land.

There will be a book launch on Sunday, January 7, 10:00 AM, at Lincoln Square Synagogue in New York. Rabbi Naor will discuss the new siddur and dialogue with Professor Marc B. Shapiro regarding Rav Kook’s legacy. The event will be moderated by Rabbi Shaul Robinson. All are invited to attend.

Here are some sample pages:

The Rogochover and More

Marc B. Shapiro

In a recent Jewish Review of Books (Summer 2017), I published a translation of an interview R. Joseph Rozin, the Rogochover, gave to the New York Yiddish paper, Der morgen zhurnal. You can see the original interview here. The fact that the Rogochover agreed to the interview is itself significant. As is to be expected, the content of the interview is also of great interest.

In the preface to the interview, I mentioned that the Rogochover famously studied Torah on Tisha be-Av and when he was an avel, both of which are in violation of accepted halakhah. When he was once asked why, while sitting shiva, he learnt Torah, he is reported to have replied:[1]

ודאי, עבירה היא זו, וכשאקבל עונש על שאר עונותי יענישוני אף על עון זה, אבל אני אקבל באהבה וברצון את העונש על חטא זה, וכדאית היא התורה להלקות עליה

R. Yissachar Tamar cites an eye-witness who reported that the Rogochover said basically the same thing in explaining why he learnt on Tisha be-Av, and noted how wonderful it will be to be punished for studying Torah.[2]

ומה נעים לקבל צליפות על עסק התורה

The Hazon Ish was told that the Rogochover learnt Torah when he was in mourning and that he made another antinomian-like comment in justification of his behavior, namely, that he wants to be in the gehinom of those who learn Torah. The Hazon Ish replied that “this gehinom is the same gehinom for the other sins.”[3]

The various comments quoted in the name of the Rogochover show his great need for studying Torah, a need that simply did not allow him to put aside his Torah study, even when halakhah required it. Yet the antinomian implication of the Rogochover’s comments was too much to be ignored. R. Gavriel Zinner’s reaction after quoting the Rogochover is how many felt.[4]

ולא זכיתי להבין, הלא מי לנו גדול מחכמי הגמ’ שנפשם ג”כ חשקה בתורה ואפ”ה גזרו שבת”ב ובזמן אבל אסורים בלימוד התורה, ועוד שאחז”ל הלומד ע”מ שלא לעשות נוח לו שלא נברא.

It is thus to be expected that some authors deny that the Rogochover could have really said any of what I have quoted. And if he did say it, they feel that it must have been merely a joke or a comment not meant to be taken seriously, or that he did not want people to know the real reason he studied Torah while in avelut (namely, the Yerushalmi which will soon be mentioned).[5] R. Abraham Weinfeld goes so far as to say, with reference to one of the comments I have quoted that “It is forbidden to hear these words, and Heaven forbid to suspect that Rabban shel Yisrael [the Rogochover] would say this.”[6] 

Those who refuse to accept that the Rogochover meant what he said are forced to find a halakhic justification for his behavior, and indeed, when it comes to an avel studying Torah (and this would also apply to Tisha be-Av, the halakhot of which are not as stringent as those of personal mourning), there is a passage in the Yerushalmi, Moed Katan 3:5, that permits Torah study for one who has a great need.[7]  (This heter is not recorded in the Shulhan Arukh, but this would not have concerned the Rogochover.[8]) Yet it is important to remember that as far as we know the Rogochover never cited this passage in the Yerushalmi as justification for his studying Torah when he was sitting shiva.[9]

Now for something disappointing and even a bit shocking: Here are the two pages from R. Shlomo Yosef Zevin, Ishim ve-Shitot (Jerusalem, 2007), pp. 75-76, where you can see one of the“controversial” quotations (which as R. Zevin notes is taken from an article in Ha-Hed).

R. Menahem Kasher quoted the entire two pages from Ishim ve-Shitot in his Mefaneah Tzefunot (Jerusalem, 1976), pp. 1-2 in the note.

Look at the end of the first paragraph of the note on p. 2. The “problematic” quotation of the Rogochover, saying that he will happily be punished for his sin in studying Torah, as the Torah is worth it, has been deleted. Instead, the Rogochover is portrayed as explaining his behavior as due to the passage in the Yerushalmi. While all the other authors who discuss this matter and want to “defend” the Rogochover claim that his real reason for studying Torah was based on the Yerushalmi, in R. Kasher’s work this defense is not needed as now we have the Rogochover himself giving this explanation!

Yet the Rogochover never said this. R. Zevin’s text has been altered and a spurious comment put in the mouth of the Rogochover, By looking carefully at the text you can see that originally R. Zevin was quoted correctly. Notice how there is a space between the first and second paragraphs and how the false addition is a different size than the rest of the words. What appears to have happened is that the original continuation of the paragraph was whited out and the fraudulent words were substituted in its place. Yet this was done after everything was typeset so the evidence of the altering remains.

Look also at the third paragraph where it says

ההד, שם

However, this makes no sense as R. Zevin’s reference to Ha-Hed has been deleted. I do not see how anyone other than R. Kasher could have been responsible for this particular “editing.” 

As mentioned, many were troubled by the Rogochover’s antinomian-like comment.[10] Yet he is not the only one to speak like this. R. Joseph Hayyim (the Ben Ish Hai) in his Benayahu refers to an unnamed gaon who also learnt Torah when he was in avelut. When asked about this he did not refer to the Yerushalmi but answered in an antinomian fashion just like the Rogochover: “I know that I am violating the words of the Sages, and I know that on the day of judgment I will certainly be punished for this, but he [!] is prepared and willing to suffer and receive this punishment whatever it will be, because he is not able to withstand the pain of avoiding the study of Torah which is as difficult for him as death.”[11] Benayahu appeared in 1905. I do not think it is possible that at such an early date R. Joseph Hayyim could have heard a story about the Rogochover, so he must have had another great rabbi in mind.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe told a similar story.[12] When he was a youth, he had a teacher from Lithuania who lived in his home. He once found this teacher learning on Tisha be-Av. Young Menachem Mendel asked the teacher how is it that he was learning Torah on that day. The teacher replied: “When I come to the World to Come, I will be punished for one reason or another. I will be happy if I know that the reason I am being punished is because I learnt on Tisha be-Av.”[13]

The following subversive story with R. Israel of Ruzhin is also of interest, as it too shows a violation of accepted halakhah regarding Torah study on Tisha be-Av. It appears in R. Mordechai Hayyim of Slonim, Ma’amar Mordechai, vol. 2, p. 206.

הרה”ק מרוזין שהה פעם בימי בין המצרים במעינות המרפא, וביום צום תשעה באב אחר חצות היום, אמר לאחד מבני לוויתו שילמוד מסכתא משניות, ויעשה סיום בליל מוצאי התענית, ויסמכו על זה הקהל אשר שם ויאכלו בשר ואמר בלשו”ק: רבי שמואל קאמינקער אמר, שסיום מסכתא משניות חשוב כמו סיום מסכת גמרא, ועל רבי שמואל קאמינקער יכולין לסמוך כמו על אחד מגדולי הפוסקים. ועל האיסור ללמוד בתשעה באב אחר חצות, דאס נעם איך אויף מיר, און לאזן אידן עסן פלייש . . .

Returning to the interview with the Rogochover, he cites Maimonides who says that the word “Germany” is derived from the Hebrew word gerem, meaning “bone.”

Mishnah Negaim 2:1, in a passage that tells us how things used to be, says that Jews are neither black nor white, but in the middle (meaning, a Middle Eastern look). At the beginning of the Mishnah it speaks of a white spot that appears on a white man and on a black man. The word the Mishnah uses for “white man” is גרמני (German), and for “black man” it uses כושי. Germania was the Roman term for the area we call Germany, so it makes sense that the Mishnah, in describing a white man, would use that term.[14]

Apparently, Maimonides did not know the word גרמני. Thus, in his commentary to Negaim 2:1 he offers the explanation mentioned by the Rogochover, that גרמני is related to the word for bone. (In the interview, the Rogochover says that Maimonides refers to the Hebrew word גרם, but I wonder if this was a mistake on the interviewer’s part, as the word used by Maimonides is the Aramaic גרמא). Here is R. Kafih’s translation:

גרמני שם הלבן ביותר מיוחס אל העצם אשר שמו גרמא

Leaving aside the matter of the correct historical etymology, I wonder if Maimonides saw a problem with his explanation, namely, that for “black man” the Mishnah uses an ethnic identification, so one would expect it to also use such an identification in describing a white man. Furthermore, why would the Mishnah use an Aramaic word instead of the Hebrew עצם?

R. Elijah Benamozegh wonders how Maimonides did not realize what גרמני is referring to:[15]

והפלא על חכמת הרמב”ם שכתב כן ועשה עין של מעלה כאלו אינה רואה שדברי חז”ל מעידים ומגידים שגרמני שם אומה, לא זולת, ומה ענין לגרמא עצם בל’ ארמי?

R. Meir Mazuz asks, “How could Maimonides not have thought of this?” namely, that גרמני means German.[16] He explains that Maimonides was an Arabic speaker, and the way he knew Germany was by the term “Alemannia.” As such, when he saw the word גרמני in the Mishnah, since he did not know the term “Germany” he was forced to come up with a different explanation tying גרמני to “white.”[17]

What R. Mazuz did not know is that this explanation is not original to Maimonides and must reflect an earlier tradition.[18] I say this because R. Hillel ben Elyakim of Greece, who lived in the twelfth century (that is, contemporaneously with Maimonides) independently mentions this explanation. In his commentary to Torat Kohanim, ed. S. Kolodetzky, vol. 1, p. 190, he writes:

ומנלן גרמני הוי לבן כדגרסי’ בכל מקום גרמני מוכר כושי וכאן כושי מוכר גרמני דהיינו לבן דעצם מתרגמינן גרמא ועצם הוי לבן.

R. Hillel cites Bereshit Rabbah 86:3 which states: “Everywhere a white man (גרמני) sells a black man (כושי), while here a black man is selling a white man.” He also says דעצם מתרגמינן גרמא. If you look at Onkelos and Targum Ps. Jonathan to Genesis 2:23 this is exactly what you find.

When I found what R. Hillel wrote, I was quite excited, as I thought I had discovered something that no one else had taken notice of. Yet I later found that Jacob Nahum Epstein had already called attention to this in his notes to the commentary attributed to R. Hai Gaon to Seder Toharot (Berlin, 1921), p. 94 n. 32. He assumes that R. Hillel predates Maimonides:

ר”ה מארץ יון בפי’ ספרא דף קי”ג ב’ ור”מ אחריו הוציאוהו מן “גרמא”, עצם!

Hasidism in America

Marc B. Shapiro

There is a tape of R. Joseph B. Soloveitchik in the 1950s saying that there is no real Hasidism in the United States. He says that he saw real Hasidism in Warsaw, and America does not have it. When the Rav made this statement, I think most non-hasidim would have agreed that Hasidism did not have any real future in the United States. The 1950s was a time when the focus was on the melting pot. In such an era, Hasidism would have been as out of place in wider American society as Muslim women walking down the streets of New York City or Los Angeles wearing hijabs. How things have changed!

There are many reasons for the great success of Hasidism in the United States, among them the turn to multiculturalism which has made the public square more welcoming of a variety of lifestyles. The coarsening of the wider culture has also pushed religious people to a more inward direction, and those looking to escape from this culture can easily be drawn towards Hasidism. Also important is that for many young hasidim the wider culture does not have the same draw it once did. And for those who do want to be part of the wider culture, in today’s day and age one can be a hasid and live a much more open life, even if only virtually, then people did a generation or two ago. The rise of the welfare state has also been crucial to hasidic growth, as without the welfare state hasidic communities as we know them would be unsustainable.[1] Finally, there is one other element that has been important to hasidic growth, and also to its fracturing, and that is the leadership that has been able to provide guidance in post-war America.

Samuel Heilman’s engrossing new book discusses this very point, that of leadership. Its title is Who Will Lead Us? The Story of Five Hasidic Dynasties in America, and it is required reading for anyone interested in the contemporary hasidic world.

The dynasties Heilman focuses on are Munkács, Boyan, Bobov, Satmar, and Lubavitch. There is also an introductory chapter on succession in Hasidism which itself is an important issue. I do not know if people in the hasidic world give it much thought, but for non-hasidim the whole matter of succession is somewhat strange, since by what right should a son (sometimes even a very young son) or son-in-law be able to take over religious leadership? Very few outsiders will be impressed with the hasidic concept of “holy seed,” as in the non-hasidic world, at least until recent years, it was understood that one rises to greatness based on one’s own achievements, not based on who one’s father was (though that always helps). It is thus interesting to learn that in the early years of Hasidism the concept of family succession did not exist.[2] Yet as we all know, for many years now succession has been based on lineage and in that way the hasidic court is just like the royal court.[3] (I was struck by Heilman’s use of the term “dowager” to describe the widow of the rebbe. I have never seen the term used in this way but is a good usage.) Of course, there have been times when there were disputes as to who should be the rightful successor, and this always had the potential to lead to a split in a hasidic group, a point we will return to.

Heilman was fortunate that he “was helped immensely by several rebbes who graciously consented to be interviewed and who for long hours and over many months and years opened their lives to me” (p. xv). Some readers might find it strange for a rebbe to be so open with an academic researcher, but it shows that at least some rebbes are interested that academic discussions about them be accurate, and that their perspectives be taken into account.[4]

Heilman’s chapter dealing with Munkács is riveting, and never before has the story been told in print. By “story,” I have in mind the life of R. Baruch (Boruchel) Rabinowitz, the rebbe of Munkács, who did what is almost unheard of, namely, giving up his “rebbeship.” Freed from this role, he was able to become more “modern” and publicly abandon the anti-Zionism so much associated with his father-in-law, R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira, his predecessor as rebbe of Munkács. While living as a rabbi in Brazil (the “chief rabbi” of São Paulo), he even acceded to his new wife’s wishes to get a dog (which he himself walked). He read widely in secular literature, earned a university degree in philosophy and psychology, and taught philosophy at the University of São Paulo. (p. 51).

While some have seen the Holocaust as changing R. Baruch’s outlook, it appears that this is not entirely the case. As Heilman informs us (p. 44), during the Munkácser Rebbe’s famous 1930 trip to the Land of Israel, in which R. Baruch the future son-in-law accompanied him, R. Baruch snuck out at night to meet secretly with R. Yaakov Moshe Charlop, the leading follower of R. Kook. (Heilman refers to R. Charlop as head of Yeshivat Merkaz ha-Rav, but that would only happen after R. Kook’s death.) This shows that already in his youth he had a much broader perspective than his future father-in-law.

By the time his metamorphosis is complete, it appears that R. Baruch should be categorized as a Religious Zionist – or perhaps even a Modern Orthodox – rabbi. There is a picture in the book of him with Ben Gurion. Unfortunately, Heilman does not identify the other rabbi in the picture – R. Shlomo Goren. Here is another picture of R. Baruch in the Sinai desert after the 1967 war.[5]

Because R. Baruch had given up the role of rebbe, this meant that it was to pass to his son. Yet R. Baruch did not seem too happy about this and appears to have never regarded it as a real option, as he did not raise any of his sons to become a rebbe. Heilman does a wonderful job describing how it came to pass that the young Moshe Leib became the rebbe. The story he tells is also one of great sadness, of a deep human tragedy, as in the end there was a complete break between R. Baruch and three of his children from his first marriage (which includes the current Munkácser Rebbe), even to the extent of R. Baruch forbidding them to attend his funeral or to say Kaddish for him. (You can see R. Baruch’s letter here.)  Is there anything more tragic for a family than this?

While it is often stated that the hasidim rejected R. Baruch because he became a Zionist, the truth is that he rejected them, in that he chose not to continue as the rebbe. The bitter and public break with his children was a real family tragedy, but it is difficult to read the book and not conclude that the fault for this lay in R. Baruch’s unresolved issues – Heilman speaks of “Oedipal overtones” (p. 63) – seen most vividly in R. Baruch’s shocking behavior at R. Moshe Leib’s wedding. The result of all this is that R. Baruch has been completely erased from Munkács history and has no significance to the movement. When a book with his approbation is reprinted, such as R. Joseph Lustig’s Amudei Esh le-Veit Yosef, it is not surprising that the approbation is removed. Here is the title page of the edition with the approbation removed.

Despite the family tragedy, it must be said that R. Baruch’s son and successor, R. Moshe Leib, has been remarkably successful in leading a revival of the dynasty. He has also played a role in wider Jewish affairs, both publicly and behind the scenes, and is a fine example of what a successful rebbe can be.

Let me add a few more points about R. Baruch that are not mentioned in Heilman’s book. One might have assumed that as R. Baruch became more modern he would distance himself from his father-in-law, a man very much identified with extremism. But that did not happen. Until the end of his life he continued to display awe for R. Hayyim Eleazar Shapira. In Binat Nevonim (2012 ed.) pp. 153-154, he defends R. Shapira against the accusation that he was a “ba’al machloket.” What about his well-known attacks against the Religious Zionists and those non-Zionist Orthodox who wished to go on aliyah intending to work the land?[6] R. Baruch explains, very unconvincingly, that R. Shapira reacted the way he did because he hoped that the Messiah would soon arrive and people would then be able to immigrate to the Land of Israel without confronting any irreligiosity. R. Baruch’s own opinion comes a few pages later, p. 157, where he writes that the ingathering of Jews, including non-religious, to the Land of Israel is a fulfillment of biblical prophecy. Only later will God send His Holy Spirit to purify the people from all of its sins, and then He will send the Messiah. Such a perspective is very much at odds with what R. Shapira advocated.

Interestingly, in dealing with the accusation that his father-in-law was a “ba’al machloket,” R. Baruch says nothing about R. Shapira’s battles against the Agudah and its rabbis,[7] or his battles against non-Agudah rabbis and rebbes, in particular the Spinka Rebbe, R. Isaac Eizik Weiss, and the Belzer Rebbe, R. Yissachar Dov Rokeah. In the latter case, R. Shapira’s actions were very extreme, and it was alleged that he even attempted to get the government to expel the Belzer Rebbe from the city.[8] He attacked the Belzer Rebbe personally and referred to his hasidim as חזירי בעלז.[9] His attacks on Belz did not stop even after the Belzer Rebbe’s death, and the Belzer community of Munkács decided to separate from the wider Orthodox community of the city which was controlled by R. Shapira.[10] Since they were not legally allowed to create another Orthodox community, they officially became the Neolog community of Munkács. Although they were as distant from the Neologs as their persecutor, R. Shapira, declaring themselves as Neolog was the only way for them to create their own community which would be recognized by the government.[11]

In Binat Nevonim, pp 173-174, we see very clearly R. Baruch’s Religious Zionist feelings. He reviews the modern growth of the Land of Israel beginning with the early immigrations, and mentions how Jews hoped that this growth was the beginning of the redemption. He even states that the British did not live up to their expected role when they removed a large part of biblical Israel from the Jewish homeland. Could anything be further from the old Munkács approach than the following words from R. Baruch, after summarizing the various nineteenth-century attempts to build up the Land of Israel (p. 174)?

הארץ השוממה מתחילה לנשום ולהחיות מחדש. היא מתחילה להעלות תקווה בלב יושבי הארץ ובלב העם היהודי כולו, שהנה הגיע הזמן של שיבת ציון של חזון הגאולה לעם ישראל ולחזון הגאולה לכל העמים שעם יהודי נשא בקרבו מאז אברהם אבינו דרך הנביאים עד היום הזה.

עם ישראל, זה הנולד לגדולות ולנצורות, לא בדור הזה שהוא כדורו של דוד המלך ייהפך לאור לגויים, לא בדור הזה יהפוך את מדינתו למדינה לדוגמא. אבל יבוא הדור, דור שיהיה דומה לדורו של שלמה, דור שידע מנוחה, דור שלא יצטרך לנהל מלחמות, דור שידע להעמיד את כח החכמה לפני כח הגבורה – והדור הזה יקים את המדינה לדוגמא, מדינה שבה מדע התורה, המוסר, והצדק, והשוויון ישמשו תשתית לחיי האנושות, ואז יבוא משיח צדקנו, נצר דוד מלכנו ומציון תצא תורה ודבר ה’ מירושלים.

In discussing the Holocaust, R. Baruch states that we cannot ask why God was silent and did not hear the cries of the millions of victims (p. 158). He strongly rejects the notion that the Holocaust, which was an unparalleled national suffering, can be explained as due to any particular sins (p. 198). Regarding the Holocaust, it is also important to mention that R. Baruch was very involved in the efforts to save Hungarian Jewry.[12]

Returning to Heilman, the story of Boyan, which he tells with great skill, did not have the conflict and tragic aspects that were described in the chapter on Munkács. Yet here too we find the same theme, namely, a dynasty without an obvious successor. And again, we see that with the right man, and with proper guidance from the hasidic elders, he can grow into the role. As with Munkács, the Boyaner Rebbe has blossomed into a respected rebbe, either overcoming his more modern background (as some would say), or using this background to allow him to better understand the Jewish people as a whole.

For those interested in conflict in religious life, the chapters on Bobov and Satmar, focusing on the split in these movements, provide plenty of that. In fact, even before the dispute over who would be the current Satmar rebbe, conflict was a basic feature of Satmar life already in Europe. Heilman writes, “For Satmar hasidim conflicts served as a form of socialization and identity formation. . . . [T]his relish for conflict, framed as a steadfast ideological purity, would become the essential identity of Satmar Hasidism.” (pp. 163, 164)

In addition to discussing the conflicts over succession, Heilman also provides the necessary background to understand matters. Thus, in the chapter on Bobov, long before we get to the conflict that led to the split in the movement, Heilman reviews the history of Bobov, its fate during the Holocaust, and its rebirth after the war. Heilman does the same in all of the chapters, allowing readers to appreciate the unique aspects of each of the different Hasidic groups. In his chapter on Satmar, here is how Heilman summarizes what defined this group for its rebbe, R. Joel Teitelbaum.

The struggle to remain apart as well as distinctive and to argue that these positions were the only and authentic way of being Jewish not only made Yoelish’s followers feel that they were part of a great cause and the true defenders of Jewry and Judaism but made Satmarism and its inventor a kind of model for what steadfast Orthodox Judaism was meant to be, a vanguard of contra-acculturation and authenticity. Second, he had to make sure that his educational system did not provide his hasidim with the skills that would make leaving the enclave easy. Third, he had to demonize the world outside so that his followers would either be afraid of entering it or be confident that their own ways were infinitely superior. (p. 173)

I would like to add a few final comments and corrections.

I am not sure why Heilman includes a chapter on Chabad. While obviously the story here is not the fight over succession but the fact that there has not been a succession, for those who read Heilman’s and Menachem Friedman’s biography of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, the material in Who Will Lead Us? focusing on R. Menachem Mendel is not new. The first half of the chapter deals with prior Lubavitcher rebbes, not really the focus of the book which deals with the American scene, but helpful to understanding later events.[13]

It seems that spending so much time among the hasidim has led some of their hagiography to rub off on Heilman. How else to explain his statements that R. Baruch knew Maimonides’ Guide of the Perplexed by heart (p. 42) and R. Joel Teitelbaum “was able to review a folio of Talmud at age five” (p. 156)? Both of these men were scholars, and thus the hagiography focuses on their scholarship. I would be interested to know if in the hagiography about current rebbes, and in particular the ones discussed by Heilman, is scholarship even mentioned. Do current hasidim even assume that their rebbes are great Torah scholars?

In the preface, p. xiv, Heilman tells us that he will look at five different successions. In Munkács and Boyan a successor was lacking. In Bobov and Satmar two individuals claimed the throne. In Habad, the “hasidim denied a need for a successor at all, claiming that their rebbe had never really died.” While it is true that the Habad hasidim have no interest in a successor, there is only a very small number who claim that the Rebbe did not die (and thus they do not go to his grave). The mainstream messianist view is that the Rebbe indeed died and will be resurrected as the Messiah.[14] Even those who do not write זצ”ל or זי”ע do not deny that the Rebbe died and was buried. Yet they assume that his soul is still involved in this world and as such they do not want to treat him as someone who has passed from the scene.

P. 58. Heilman writes that the Lubavitcher Rebbe “claimed to have attended the Sorbonne and other European universities.” (p. 58) I do not understand the use of the word “claimed,” as it appears to cast doubt on what the Rebbe said. Yet in Heilman’s book, The Rebbe, he himself mentions that the Rebbe was a registered student at both the University of Berlin and the Sorbonne.

Pp. 85-86. Heilman states that R. Yerucham Gorelick “came from Slutzk, Belarus, and had studied in the famous non-Hasidic yeshiva there.” This is incorrect as R. Gorelick studied in Lomza, Radin, and also in Brisk, but not in Slutzk. In fact, in 1923 (when R. Gorelick was twelve years old) the Slutzk yeshiva moved to Kletzk.

P. 169. In discussing the Kasztner train and the inclusion in it of the Satmar Rebbe, Heilman writes: “Kasztner was persuaded, after someone paid a ‘huge sum,’ to include Yoelish and some of those connected to him among the 1670 in the train.” Why the leading anti-Zionist, R. Joel Teitelbaum, was included on the Kasztner train is a question that has never been convincingly answered. A popular legend is that Kasztner’s mother appeared to him in a dream and requested that he include the Rebbe. Yet even if this explains why the Rebbe was included, there were also other anti-Zionist rabbis who were on the train, which was a microcosm of larger Hungarian Jewish society.[15]

Before reading Heilman’s book, I had never heard that it was only money that enabled the Rebbe to be rescued. The source Heilman provides for this is a Satmar biography of the Rebbe that relied on an item that appeared in the Satmar paper Der Yid. These are precisely the sorts of sources that have to be used very carefully, and in many cases are simply useless if one is trying to find out the truth. At the very least, Heilman should have written that it is “alleged” that someone paid a huge sum, rather than state it as fact. One of the “problems” of the Satmar Rebbe’s biography is that despite being saved by the Zionist Kasztner, there is no evidence of the Rebbe ever having expressed any gratitude towards Kasztner or the Zionists as a whole for saving his life, something that has often troubled people. However, if the only reason the Rebbe was on the train was because of a simple monetary transaction, then he would have no reason to feel grateful to Kasztner or the Zionists. To put it another way, there is good reason for Satmar writers to portray the event this way in order to burnish the reputation of the Rebbe. As such, the unsubstantiated report Heilman relies on here must be treated with a great deal of suspicion.

The hasidic world is obviously of great significance in Orthodoxy. There are so many different hasidic groups that just when I think I know them all, I see an article about another rebbe whom I have never heard of. In fact, some years ago someone produced a “yellow pages” of all the hasidic rebbes. There are 554 listed, and by now no doubt a few more need to be added. Here is the first page.

There are significantly more rebbes now than a hundred years ago. Marcin Wodzinski has written that “there were approximately three hundred tsaddikim active in 1900.”[16]

What I know from friends in the hasidic world is that there are also people who should be regarded as “independent hasidim.” I first heard this expression a few years ago in Budapest where I became friendly with a visiting American hasid. When I asked him which group he was part of, he replied, “independent.”

Here was a man who looked like a hasid, who considered himself a hasid, who valued the hasidic way of life, and yet he did not have a rebbe. Since then I have met other “independent hasidim,” and their story is pretty much the same. They grew up as hasidim and love Hasidut, but they do not find any of the rebbes appealing. Some of them have also seen things that caused them to be disillusioned with the contemporary rebbes. They do not deny the value of a rebbe, and believe that great rebbes existed in the past. It is just that today they do not see such figures.

I would love to see an article dealing with the phenomenon of the independent hasidim. Is this something that can continue in a family over generations, or is it a one generation event, with the children brought up in such a family generally joining a hasidic group or linking up with the yeshiva world? Interestingly, Wodzinski notes the existence of independent hasidim around the time of World War I, and I wonder when they first appeared. In Wodzinski’s words: “During the war and after it, shtiblekh sprang up, gathering the half-rejects and half-deserts from the Hasidic world, shtiblekh unaffiliated with any court.”[17]

The independent hasidim should be distinguished from what Wodzinski has termed “à la carte Hasidism.” This is a phenomenon that also existed in the early twentieth century, and consisted of “young Hasidim who sampled different courts, picking various festivals with different tsaddikim depending on individual taste or indeed on the way different tsaddikim enacted different elements of Hasidic ritual.”[18]

Another point of interest which has not yet been analyzed is the position of the rebbe when he was still a child and teenager. Heilman’s book discusses this with regard to the current Munkácser Rebbe, but when he was young there was not yet an expectation that he would become the rebbe. What about those who knew that they would become rebbe. What type of childhood did they have? Did they have friends like other children, or were they regarded as too special to mix with the masses? And how about when they were teenagers and realized the significance of their fathers, who served as rebbes? It would be fascinating to hear from current rebbes about how they experienced childhood and young adulthood. People often forget that even the most important figures were once young and enjoyed the same sort of fun that all young people do. I actually have a photo of a young Shlomo Halberstam (1907-2000) in his bathing suit having fun in a lake. Heilman discusses in detail his experiences during the war and how after the war he rebuilt the Bobov dynasty, a task that fell to him as his father, R. Ben Zion, was murdered by the Nazis.[19] Yet the photo I just mentioned reminds us that even future rebbes were able to enjoy themselves like everyone else.

* * * * * *

Since this post deals with Hasidism, it is a good place to call attention to an unfortunate example of censorship in the writings of the Hatam Sofer. Here is the title page of volume 2 of the Derashot of the Hatam Sofer, first published by R. Joseph Naphtali Stern in 1929. R. Stern’s edition is based on the Hatam Sofer’s own manuscripts.

Beginning on p. 371a one can find the eulogy for the Hatam Sofer’s teacher, R. Nathan Adler. On p. 373a, in speaking of the great piety of R. Adler, the Hatam Sofer writes: ולא כחסידי הזמן ח”ו.

Now take a look at the Pressburg 1881 edition of Torat Moshe, Va-Yikra, p. 41b. You can see that the words ולא כחסידי הזמן ח”ו do not appear. It is not known if the publisher was responsible for this censorship, as he informs us in the introduction to volume 1 that some of what appears in the book was copied from the Hatam Sofer’s manuscripts and sent to him.

And while on the topic of censorship, here is another example dealing with a leading student of the Hatam Sofer, R. Moses Schick. Here is Derashot Maharam Schick, p. 30b, published in Cluj around 1936.[20]

You can see that he mentions Wessely’s Yein Levanon. Now take a look at the Derashot Maharam Schick published in Jerusalem, 2003.

As you can see, the reference to Yein Levanon has been removed. R. Moses Schick believed that Yein Levanon was a fine book, worthy of being quoted. However, the publisher thought differently. Ironically, the new edition was published by Makhon Maharam Schick. Here is the title page

So we have a publishing institute named after R. Moses Schick, and the people who run it would no doubt insist that they have the greatest respect for R. Schick. Yet this respect does not include respecting the sanctity of what he actually wrote.

R. Moses Schick refers to Wessely’s comment to Avot 1:1. In the new edition of Yein Levanon (Rishon le-Tzion, 2003), p. 44, the editor points out that R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary to Avot 1:1, also cites Wessely by name. While this comment appears uncensored in the English translation of Hirsch’s commentary, in the Hebrew translation Wessely’s name has been replaced by “one of the commentators.” The editor adds: “The translators think that they are wiser  and more understanding than R. Samson Raphael Hirsch.”

* * * * * *

In Changing the Immutable, p. 211, I write that R. Hayyim Vital “records” and “mentions” certain negative information about Israel Najara. Yitzy Weinberg commented to me that I neglected to state a very important point, namely, the source of R Vital’s information. Weinberg feels, and others probably do as well, that knowing the source is important, since if R. Vital recorded information that he had personal knowledge of it would have more significance than if it came from another source.

Before coming to this point, I must note from a modern perspective, it is hard not to conclude that R. Vital was overly credulous. He was ready to believe the most far-fetched tales of angels, demons, magic, spirit possession, and exorcisms, and has no reticence in describing personal experiences with some of these things. He himself was even possessed by a powerful evil spirit. Morris M. Faierstein has recently discussed this episode and reaches the following striking conclusion: “Within the universe of Lurianic Kabbalah and the stories found in Vital’s mystical diary, the Book of Visions [Sefer Hezyonot], it can only be Jesus of Nazareth who was the evil spirit that possessed Hayyim Vital.”[21] 

Knowing all this, I do not believe that the information about Najara quoted by R. Vital should be accepted at face value,[22] especially when the charges made (homosexual behavior and sexual relations with a non-Jewish woman) are so serious. I would say this even if the ultimate source of this information was R. Vital himself.[23] 

Nevertheless, I agree that I should have mentioned that the information recorded by R. Vital came from a spirit that had entered a woman (a phenomenon that only after R. Vital’s time came to be known as a dybbuk[24]). Furthermore, in the book I noted: “Because of this, Vital wrote that ‘the hymns that he has composed are themselves good, but whoever speaks to him and whatever leaves his mouth is forbidden, because he always used foul languages and was a drunkard his whole life.’” This too is a statement from the spirit.

Among the information revealed by the spirit was that “between the fast days,” Najara “prepared a meal at that hour at the house of Jacob Monides, put his hat on the ground, sang songs in a loud voice, ate meat, drank wine, and even became drunk.”[25] R. Vital writes that Najara admitted that this incident occurred, meaning that in this case R. Vital wants us to know that the spirit spoke the truth. R. Vital does not record asking Najara about the spirit’s more serious accusations, and he would have told us if he had.[26]

Despite what I have just written, some seem to assume that everything that appears in R. Vital’s Sefer ha-Hezyonot must be attributed to himself, even if he attributes it to a spirit. Thus, Lawrence Fine writes: “In his dream diary, Vital alleges that Israel Najara engaged in homosexual behavior in his drunkenness, and contends, in connection with Damascus, that ‘there is much homosexuality . . . in this land.’”[27] As you can see, Fine does not mention the spirit but states that “Vital alleges.”

Another example is that Israel Zinberg writes that “Vital declares,” and then cites the passage I quoted in my book, which first appeared in Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital.[28] “The hymns that he has composed are themselves good, but whoever speaks to him and whatever leaves his mouth is forbidden, because he always used foul language and was a drunkard his whole life.” Zinberg does not mention the spirit.

Avraham Amazleg writes as follows (emphasis added)[29]:

שם רח”ו גם בפי הרוח דברי גנאי וביקורת על נג’ארה. רח”ו או הרוח אמנם מודים שהפזמונים שהוא חיבר הם טובים, אבל אסור לאומרם או לדבר עם המחבר, כי פיו דובר נבלה, וממילא הוא שיכור כל ימיו.

Almog Behar writes[30]:

המקובל רבי חיים ויטאל, תלמיד האר”י, בן תקופתו, כתב עליו ב”ספר החזיונות” שלו.

I could bring a number of additional examples where the words of the spirit are attributed to R. Vital, but I think readers get the point.

Although in all texts of Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital Najara’s name was deleted – it first appeared in the 1954 edition of R. Vital’s Sefer ha-Hezyonot – it was not too difficult for Zinberg and others to figure out who was being referred to. R. Moses Sofer appears to have also been aware of the passage in Shivhei R. Hayyim Vital, or perhaps there even was an oral tradition about the more serious charges against Najara that only appeared in print in 1954. I say this because when asked by his son why he did not sing Najara’s spiritually moving Y-ah Ribon, the Hatam Sofer replied: “Rather than telling you why I do not sing it, it is better to sing it.” From that point on he sang Y-ah Ribon.[31]

* * * * * *

R. Yechiel Goldhaber is well known as an outstanding scholar, whose many publications are always enlightening.[32] Not many know that he also offers tours of the Old City of Jerusalem. Having had the pleasure of participating in one of his tours, I highly recommend it to all who are interested in the history of Jerusalem (which I believe includes all Seforim Blog readers).

My own Torah in Motion tours to Europe in summer 2018 have also been announced. You can read about them here.

The young scholars R. Yisachar Dov Hoffman and R. Ovadiah Hoffman are known to many Seforim Blog readers. R. Yisachar has authored Avodat Ovadiah which focuses on practices of R. Ovadiah Yosef. R. Ovadiah Hoffman is a Seforim Blog contributor, and both of them have published three volumes of Ha-Mashbir, dedicated to studies on R. Ovadiah Yosef. I think readers will be interested to know about an event they are organizing to commemorate the yahrzeit of R. Ovadiah Yosef. It is to take place on Sunday, October 22, 2017, from 6:25pm-9pm (refreshments available), followed by maariv. It will be an evening of shiurim dealing with contemporary halakhic issues and reflections on the legacy of R. Ovadiah Yosef. It will be held at Beis Midrash Kerem Shlomo, 1880 East 27th Street (between Ave. R and S), in Brooklyn. The scheduled speakers are R. Herschel Schachter, R. Aryeh Ralbag, R. Yitzchok Yisraeli, and R. Betzalel Rudinsky. It promises to be a fascinating evening.

The Hanukkah Miracle

Marc B. Shapiro

In an earlier post I mentioned that I hoped to write about the nineteenth-century dispute about the historicity of the Hanukkah miracle of the oil. This dispute broke out after the publication of Hayyim Zelig Slonimski’s article claiming that Maimonides did not believe in the miracle. Fuel was added to the fire when R. Samuel Alexandrov publicly supported Slonimski and argued that the miracle of the oil was intended to be understood in a non-literal fashion, with the oil representing Torah. (He later retracted this view, presumably due to public pressure.) There is no longer a need for me to write in any detail about this matter after Zerachyah Licht’s recent comprehensive Seforim Blog post here, which also includes Slonimski’s original article.[1]

However, there are a few points I would like to add.

In my post here I wrote:

To give an example . . . of how [R. Samuel Moses] Rubenstein’s later thought broke with tradition, see his Ha-Rambam ve-ha-Aggadah (Kovno, 1937), p. 103, where he claims that the story of the miracle of Hanukkah is almost certainly a late aggadic creation, and like many other miracle stories in aggadic literature was not originally intended to be understood as historical reality:[2]

ספק הוא אם הנס של “פך השמן” הוא אפילו הגדה עממית קדומה, קרוב שהוא יצירה אגדית חדשה מבעל הברייתא עצמו או מאחד מבעלי האגדה, ונסים אגדיים כאלו רבים הם בברייתות וגמרא ומדרשים ע”ד ההפלגה כדרכה של האגדה. ולבסוף הובן נס זה למעשה שהיה. עיין שבת כ”ג א’. [טעם ברייתא זו הובא גם במגילת תענית (פ”ט) אבל כמו שנראה היא הוספה מאוחרת, ועיין (שם) ובפסיקתא רבתי (פיסקא דחנוכה) עוד טעם להדלקת נרות חנוכה[.

During the most recent Hanukkah I was using R. Joseph Hertz’s siddur, the Authorized Daily Prayer Book. Based upon how he describes the holiday and the lighting of the menorah, omitting any mention of the miracle of the lights (pp. 946-947), I assume that he also didn’t accept it literally. Note how he states that the lights were kindled during the eight-day Dedication festival, and this is the reason for the eight days of Hanukkah, rather than offering the traditional reason that the eight days of Hanukkah commemorate the eight days that the menorah miraculously burnt.

Three years to the day on which the Temple was profaned by the blaspheming foe, Kislev the 25th 165, Judah Maccabeus and his brethren triumphantly entered the Holy City. They purified the Temple, and their kindling of the lights during the eight-day festival of Dedication—Chanukah—is a telling reminder, year by year, of the rekindling of the Lamp of True Religion in their time.

Ad kan my words in the prior post. Some time ago I was asked if I know of any other traditional authors who deny the literalness of the Hanukkah miracle. It could be that R. Isidore Epstein should be added to the list, as in his classic work Judaism he describes Hanukkah and the kindling of lights, but mentions nothing about the miracle. However, unlike Hertz whose comments were in a siddur and directed to Jews, Epstein’s book is directed towards a general reader, and can still be used as a college text. Understandably, one would hesitate to include in such a book anything about a miracle. Yet I think it is telling that he does not even say something like, “according to tradition a cruse of oil with enough for one day burnt for eight.”

Another traditional author who must be mentioned in this regard is R. Zev Yavetz. Here is his picture.

And to remind people of what Slonimski looked like, here is his picture.[3]

And here is a picture of R. Alexandrov.

Yavetz was one of the leaders (and founders) of the Mizrachi movement, and Kfar Yavets, a religious moshav, is named after him. After his death, R. Kook wrote about how Yavetz was able to combine Torah and secular wisdom without being negatively affected and distorting religious values.[4] Yavetz is best known for his writings on Jewish history. His magnum opus is his 14 volume Toldot Yisrael. In volume 4, pp. 89-91, he discusses the Hanukkah story.

As you can see, there is no mention of the miracle of the oil. The eight day holiday is portrayed as a commemoration of the original eight day celebration that took place when the Temple was rededicated. I don’t think there is any other conclusion that can be drawn other than that Yavetz did not regard the miracle of the oil as an actual historical event.

In 1900 R. Aryeh Leib Feinstein published his Elef ha-Magen. On p. 35b he writes that whereas R. Judah (bar Ilai) believed in the Hanukkah miracle, R. Yose and R. Judah ha-Nasi did not, and that is the reason why R. Judah ha-Nasi did not include the laws of the Hanukkah lights in the Mishnah.

חיוב נר חנוכה עתה אינו בשביל המלוכה רק מפני הנס שנעשה בפך השמן שהדליקו בו שמונה ימים, ואף שגם טעם זה תלוי במחלוקת שבין ר’ יודא ור’ יוסי בהוריות [יא ע”ב] שלדעת ר’ יודא נסים רבים אירעו בשמן המשחה, ור’ יוסי חולק עליו שלא היה בו שום נס, ומטעם זה ג”כ השמיט רבי דיני נר חנוכה, ולא הזכירו בשום משנה, רק מזכירו לענין ניזקין בשם ר’ יודא שפוטר החנוני, לפי שר’ יודא לשיטתו סובר שנר חנוכה הוא מצוה לזכר הנס שאירע בפך שמן המשחה. אבל רבי פוסק כר’ יוסי לפי שנימוקו עמו. אך התלמוד אוחז בזה כר’ יודא לפי שהנס מהשמן כבר נתפרסם בהאומה.

On p. 36a Feinstein refers to the dispute between Slonimski and the rabbis, and says that many good Jews adopted Slonimski’s position. He tells us that he informed Slonimski that the dispute between him and the rabbis was actually an old dispute.

ואחריו נמשכו עוד רבים וכן שלמים שמהרו ויחליטו כדבריו . . . והראיתיו לדעת שבאמת ענין זה כבר דשו בו רבים, ונחלקו עליו משפחות משפחות, וביחוד ר’ יודא ור’ יוסי בהוריות. אך בכ”ז רבינו הקדוש אף שנטה למלכות בית דוד ולדעת ר’ יוסי, לא ערב לבו לנגוע במנהג ישן שקימו וקבלו עליהם הדורות שלפניו.

Not long ago I was listening to some recordings from R. David Bar-Hayim of Machon Shilo. One of them is entitled “The Story of the Macabees, part 2.” You can find it here. In this lecture, beginning at minute 27, R. Bar-Hayim explains that in his opinion there was no miracle of the oil, and it is simply a legend that developed in Babylonia, “because without that Hanukkah makes no sense for a Jew in galut.” Rather than attempt to summarize his perspective, it is preferable for readers to listen to his entire shiur.

Because of his originality, I would not have been surprised had R. Chaim Hirschensohn adopted the same sort of approach. Yet this is not the case, and R. Hirschensohn writes that the Hanukkah miracle was the final open miracle in Jewish history, by which he means that after this Jewish history is to be explained in a more naturalistic way, just like the history of other peoples. However, he adds that it must also be recognized that the very existence of the Jewish people over so many years in exile is itself a miracle.[5]

נר חנוכה הוא חותם הניסים בדברי ימי עמנו, כמלאכי חותם הנביאים.

אחרי נצחון החשמונאים החלו אצלנו דברי הימים כאשר לכל העמים, אם שאין ספק שגם מקודם היה לנו דברי הימים אבל המסופר לנו המה רק מעשה ניסים ובתוכם עלינו לבקש גרעיני דברי הימים, אבל המסופר לנו אחרי מלחמת החשמונאים כלו דברי הימים אבל הדברי הימים בעצמו הוא כלו מעשה נסים כי בארצות הגולה בנס אנו עומדים.

Since Slonimski claimed that Maimonides did not believe in the Hanukkah miracle, I think it is worth noting that although Maimonides could have stated that Hanukkah commemorates the military victory or the rededication of the Temple, he actually appears to say that the entire holiday is in commemoration of the lighting of the Menorah.[6] There are many sources[7] that state that the real miracle commemorated by Hanukkah is not the oil but the military victory, but this does not seem to be Maimonides’ perspective. Here is what he writes in Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Hanukkah 3:2-3[8]:

ב. וכשגברו ישראל על אויביהם ואיבדום בחמישה ועשרים בחודש כסלו היה ונכנסו להיכל ולא מצאו שמן טהור אלא פך אחד ולא היה בו להדליק אלא יום אחד בלבד והדליקו ממנו נרות המערכה שמונה ימים עד שכתשו זיתים והוציאו שמן טהור.

ג.  ומפני זה התקינו חכמים שבאותו הדור שיהיו שמונת הימים האלו שתחילתן מלילי חמישה ועשרים בכסלו ימי שמחה והלל ומדליקין בהן הנרות בערב על פתחי הבתים בכל לילה ולילה משמונת הלילות להראות ולגלות הנס וימים אלו הןן הנקראין חנוכה.

In fact, this is the talmudic perspective as well. Shabbat 21b asks what is the reason for the holiday of Hanukkah (מאי חנוכה), and rather than speak about the military victory or rededication of the Temple all it mentions is the miracle of the oil. Many will find this strange, since can this really be the reason for the holiday? It is one thing to say that this is the reason for the eight days of celebration, but can this be the reason for the holiday itself? The Sheiltot of R. Ahai Gaon[9] preserves another version of the talmudic text. Instead of מאי חנוכה it reads מאי נר חנוכה. With this as the question, the answer which explains about the miracle of the oil makes much more sense.[10]

Slonimski did not argue that Maimonides’ philosophy does not leave room for the Hanukkah miracle. He simply pointed out that when Maimonides records the talmudic story of the miracle he leaves out three words: נעשה בו נס. Here is the relevant section of the talmudic text in Shabbat 21b. I have underlined the crucial words:

וכשגברה מלכות בית חשמונאי ונצחום בדקו ולא מצאו אלא פך אחד של שמן שהיה מונח בחותמו של כהן גדול ולא היה בו אלא להדליק יום אחד נעשה בו נס והדליקו ממנו שמונה ימים לשנה אחרת קבעום ועשאום ימים טובים בהלל והודאה.

Here is what Maimonides writes in Hilkhot Hanukkah 3:2, and as you can see the underlined words do not appear.

וכשגברו ישראל על אויביהם ואיבדום בחמישה ועשרים בחודש כסלו היה ונכנסו להיכל ולא מצאו שמן טהור אלא פך אחד ולא היה בו להדליק אלא יום אחד בלבד והדליקו ממנו נרות המערכה שמונה ימים עד שכתשו זיתים והוציאו שמן טהור.

According to Slonimski, the omission of the words נעשה בו נס indicates that Maimonides does not believe that there was any miracle. Rather, Maimonides is telling us that since there was not enough oil to last for more than one day, they used a little of the oil on each of the eight days, until they were able to get more oil.

A weakness in Slonimski’s argument, which of course was pointed out, is that in the very next halakhah, 3:3, Maimonides appears to explicitly mention the miracle.

ומדליקין בהן הנרות בערב על פתחי הבתים בכל לילה ולילה משמונת הלילות להראות ולגלות הנס

It is hard to see the underlined words as referring to anything other than the miracle of the oil.

Needless to say, Slonimski would have been very happy to learn that these underlined words, although they appear in the standard printed editions of the Mishneh Torah going back to early printings, do not appear in manuscripts and are not authentic (and have thus been removed from the Frankel edition). Presumably, these words were added by someone to “correct” Maimonides’ omission of the miracle of the oil.[11] (Slonimski, who did not know that להראות ולגלות הנס was a later addition, was forced to claim that these words referred to the military victory.[12])

If this was all we had to go by, I might agree that Maimonides is hinting to us that he did not accept the historicity of the miracle of the oil. However, if we examine Mishneh Torah, Hilkhot Hanukkah, chapter 4, we find that Maimonides mentions “the miracle,” and again, the miracle he refers to appears to be that of the oil.[13]

In 4:12 he writes:

מצות נר חנוכה מצוה חביבה היא עד מאוד וצריך אדם להיזהר בה כדי להודיע הנס ולהוסיף בשבח הא-ל והודיה לו על הנסים שעשה.

In 4:13 he writes

הרי שאין לו אלא פרוטה אחת ולפניו קידוש היום והדלקת נר חנוכה מקדים שמן להדליק נר חנוכה על היין לקידוש היום הואיל ושניהם מדברי סופרים מוטב להקדים נר חנוכה שיש בו זכרון הנס.

Isn’t the most likely understanding that these two halakhot refer to the miracle of the oil? In 4:12 he first mentions “the miracle,” which I believe refers to the miracle of the oil, and then mentions “the miracles” in plural, which would also include the military victory. I don’t believe that Maimonides generally leaves esoteric hints in the Mishneh Torah, so I don’t think leaving out the words נעשה בו נס are intended to hint to us that he rejects the historicity of the miracle. In fact, since Maimonides denies the historicity of some events recorded in the Bible, regarding them as dreams or visions, it would not have been a theological problem for him to do so with the miracle of the oil, the source of which is a talmudic aggadah. However, as we have seen, he seems to explicitly affirm this miracle in the Mishneh Torah. Therefore, one who wants to claim that Maimonides did not believe in the miracle (despite what he says in the Mishneh Torah), will have to base this claim on an interpretation of Maimonides’ approach to miracles as set out in the Guide.

As mentioned, Slonimski’s rejection of the miracle of the oil created a great controversy, but what appears to be unknown is that he was not the first of the Hebrew writers to bring this matter to the fore. The newspaper Ha-Magid published articles by both maskilim and traditional Torah scholars. On December 9, 1868[14] Nahum Bruell[15] published an article which states: “In truth, the story of this miracle is not accepted by all sages of the Talmud and Midrash.” He then cites Pesikta Rabbati, ch. 2, which asks why we light נרות on Hanukkah. Its answer is not the story of the miracle but that after the Jews entered the Temple they took eight spears and put נרות on them.

נכנסו לבית המקדש מצאו שם שמונה שפודין של ברזל וקבעו אותם והדליקו בתוכם נרות.

Bruell also cites the medieval tosafist R. Isaac ben Judah ha-Levi who in his Pa’neah Raza,[16] in explaining why the Hasmoneans decreed lighting of the נרות, mentions nothing about the miracle:

נסמכה פרשת נרות לחנוכת המזבח וע”ז סמכו בית חשמונאי לתקן נרות בחנוכה

Although Bruell cited this text to show that not everyone accepted the Hanukkah miracle, I find it impossible to believe that R. Isaac (or any other medieval Ashkenazic sage) did not accept the traditional story of the miraculous burning of the oil. If I am correct that R. Isaac’s explanation is not in place of the Hanukkah miracle but only to offer an additional explanation, then perhaps even a text like Pesikta Rabbati cites the explanation it does, not because it did not know or accept the story of the miraculous oil, but because it wanted to offer another explanation, perhaps one not as well known.

Bruell further suggests that the talmudic aggadah about the Hanukkah miracle was never meant to be taken literally:

ואפשר גם בתשובתם על השאלה מאי חנוכה רמזו לנו כעיון גדול ועמוק כי אין מעצר לד’ להושיע ברב או במעט ואם גם נמשכו כל כוכבי התקוה ורבים חללו את ברית קדש מ”מ מפך שמן טהור המונח בחותמו של כה”ג דהיינו משארית הצדיקים אשר יחזיקו במעזם ויבטחו בד’ נעשה נס, יבא עזרם מעם ד’ עשה שמים וארץ ועוד יזרח להם אור התשועה.

One more point worth noting is about the number 8. According to the traditional story of the miracle of the oil, what is special about the number 8? Most people have probably heard the reason, also accepted by Maimonides, Hilkhot Hanukkah 3:2, that in the days of the Hasmoneans this is how long it would take for those in Jerusalem to get new olive oil.[17] I never understood this explanation as why should getting new oil be a problem. It is not like olive trees are a rare thing in the Land of Israel. In any event, this explanation does not appear in the Talmud but is first found in a geonic responsum.[18]

למה אנו עושין שמונה ימי חנוכה מפני הנס שאירע שטמאו יונים וכו’. ומה טעם יש לשמנה לילות ולא הספיקו ממנו פחות או יותר.

מפני שהשמנים באים מחלקו של אשר כדכתיב (דברים לג, כד) וטובל בשמן רגלו ומקום היה לו שנקרא תקוע כדאמרינן תקוע אלפא לשמן שממנו השמנים יוצאים ומשם עד ירושלים היה מהלך שמנה ימים בין הליכה וחזרה והכי אמרינן במנחות ולפיכך המתין להם עד שיביאו משם שמן טהור וזה שנעשה להם נס לשמנת ימים.

There are a number of difficulties with this responsum. To begin with, we are told that olive oil came from the area of the tribe of Asher which is in the extreme north of the Land of Israel. This information is based on the fact that in Moses’ blessing for the tribe of Asher in Deuteronomy 33:24, he states, “let him dip his foot in oil.” This means that there would be lots of olive trees in Asher’s territory, but since there were plenty of olive trees closer to the Temple, why did they have to travel all the way to the land of Asher which, we are told, would require an eight day round trip. Even if one supposes (without any evidence) that normally they would go there since that was where the best olive oil was to be found, if they only had enough to light the menorah for one day, it is hard to imagine that they would not set out to find olive oil closer to the Temple.

The next point in the responsum is that there was a specific place in Asher’s territory called Tekoa, and that was where the oil came from. It cites Menahot 85b where the Mishnah states that “Tekoa ranks first for the quality of its oil.” Yet as I’m sure most people reading this know, Tekoa is near Jerusalem in the territory of Judah, not in the land of Asher. II Chronicles 11:5-6 states: “And Rehoboam dwelt in Jerusalem, and built cities for defense in Judah. He built even Bethlehem, and Etam, and Tekoa.”

As proof for the statement that it would take eight days to travel to the north and back in order to get the olive oil, we are told והכי אמרינן במנחות. Yet nowhere in Menahot is this information found. In Sefer Abudarham, Seder Hadlakat Ner Hanukkah, this geonic passage is quoted, but instead of referring to Menahot, we are told that the information is found in the Jerusalem Talmud. The same reference to the Jerusalem Talmud also appears in Hiddushei R. Yehonatan mi-Lunel, Shabbat 21b, and Sefer ha-Eshkol, ed. Auerbach, vol. 2, p. 20. For those who assume that Auerbach’s edition of Sefer ha-Eshkol is a forgery, this reference is just another example of the work incorporating passages from other writings.

I don’t have an answer as to why anyone assumed that the oil had to come from the land of Asher, but as for the city of Tekoa, it could be that there was another city also named Tekoa, in addition to the one we know about in the territory of Judah. The Soncino Talmud, Menahot 85b, informs us that both Graetz and Bacher think that the Tekoa mentioned there is in the Galilee, which could be said to include part of the territory of Asher.[19] Furthermore, Samuel Klein, the leading geographer of the Land of Israel, also argues that there was a city named Tekoa in the Galilee.[20]

What about the Tekoa that Amos came from? If you look at R. David Kimhi’s commentary to Amos 1:1, he tells us that Tekoa was a large city in the land of Asher (see also his commentary to Amos 7:10). In his commentary to II Samuel 14:2, he writes, quoting the Talmud in Menahot 85b (except for the first four words):

העיר בחלקו של אשר דכתיב ביה וטוב בשמן רגלי שמושך שמן כמעין

The biblical story Radak is commenting on is when Joab fetched a wise woman from Tekoa and told her to go to King David and pretend to be a mourner. I am surprised that Radak would assume that Joab was summoning a woman from all the way in the territory of Asher. In his response to Radak, R. Profiat Duran (Efodi[21]) states that it is obvious that the story is dealing with a city near Jerusalem.[22]

והשכל הישר ישפוט כי תקוע היה קרוב לירושלם כי איך ישלח לקרות אשה מארץ אשר היה רחוק מירושלם.

Again we have to ask, just because a city named Tekoa happened to be known for its olive oil, why should anyone assume that it is in the territory of Asher? The fact that the tribe of Asher was blessed with having a lot of olive trees in its territory does not mean that the other tribes did not also have a good supply. In fact, it appears to me that the peshat of Menahot 85b, where the Mishnah speaks of Tekoa as having good olive oil, is that it is speaking about the Tekoa near Jerusalem.[23] It is true that in the talmudic discussion Tekoa and the land of Asher are mentioned regarding olive oil, but their only connection would seem to be this, not that Tekoa has anything to do with Asher’s territory.[24]

Jeremiah 6:1 states: “Gather the sons of Benjamin from the midst of Jerusalem, and blow the horn in Tekoa.” Here Jeremiah is telling the tribe of Benjamin, who lived near Jerusalem, to blow the horn in Tekoa in order to warn the people about the danger from the approaching enemy. Malbim on this verse comments that Tekoa is part of Asher. I don’t understand how Malbim could view this as peshat. Why would the people of Benjamin travel to the territory of Asher to blow the shofar? This territory was occupied by foreign troops, the local inhabitants having been deported a long time before. Here are Malbim’s words:

העיזו אתה בני בנימין התאספו מקרב ירושלים, כי בני בנימין לא היו מבני העיר ורצו לחסות שם בירושלים, אומר כי יתרחקו משם, וגם בתקוע שהוא בחלק אשר, תקעו שופר.

Based on Jeremiah 6:1, Efodi states that Tekoa is actually in the territory of Benjamin and not, as I mentioned before, in Judah’s territory.[25]

Returning to our discussion of the Hanukkah miracle, R. Sharon Shalom recently published a very interesting book entitled Mi-Sinai le-Ethiopia (Tel Aviv, 2012). This book, which is a code of halakhah for Ethiopian Jews, has haskamot from R. Nachum Rabinovitch and R. Shabtai Rappaport. It is significant in that it takes into account that it is not so easy for the older generation of Ethiopian Jews to entirely reject their traditions in order to become modern rabbinic Jews. As such, R. Shalom permits certain things that would not make sense in the larger Jewish world but are part of what he terms “Ethiopian halakhah.” For example, R. Shalom permits Ethiopian Jews, especially of the older generation, to carry items regarded as muktzeh when this is related to holy matters, for example, bringing money to synagogue on the Sabbath for charity. This was not regarded as prohibited in Ethiopia and R. Shalom allows the practice to continue today (pp. 170-171).

This is a fascinating book as it attempts to slowly ease the Ethiopian community into the wider halakhic community rather than requiring an immediate abandonment of long-standing practices, something that would certainly be demanded by haredi poskim. You can see R. Shalom discuss his book here, and he is introduced by R. Rappaport.

While the book deserves detailed analysis, I only want to call attention to one additional point that is relevant to this post. Here is R. Shalom’s discussion of Hanukkah, from pp. 214-215 in the book. There is no mention of the Hanukkah miracle in explaining why we celebrate an eight day holiday.

 

I would like to call readers’ attention to a short essay by R. Nosson Fried on Megilat Antiochus.[26] Here is the title page.

R. Fried points out that in the version of Megilat Antiochus that he published in Kovetz Beit Aharon ve-Yisrael[27] there is no mention of the miracle of the oil. He is quite surprised by this for as he says, “this is the central miracle in commemoration of which they established the lighting on Hanukkah.” He adds that this miracle is not mentioned in Al ha-Nisim or in Pesikta Rabbati which has a good deal to say about Hanukkah. He then notes that all of the Eretz Yisrael paytanim, which includes Yanai and R. Eleazar ha-Kalir, and some of the European paytanim also do not mention the miracle. (Other European paytanim, such as R. Menahem ben Machir, do mention the miracle.) How can this be explained?

R. Fried’s answer is quite unexpected (p. 8): “The sages of the Land of Israel in the time of the Talmudim and Midrashim knew nothing about the miracle of the cruse of oil.” He explains that the story of the miracle is a Babylonian tradition and thus was not known in the Land of Israel, or even by some of the early European paytanim. He writes (p. 9):

שכל אותן המקורות הקודמים, החל מספרי החשמונאים וכלה בפייטני א”י ומקצת מפייטני אירופה הקדמונים, לא ידעו כלל שאמנם היה נס בשמן . . . [הנקודות במקור] לשיטתם נקבע חג החנוכה לזכר הנצחונות והנסים שאירעו לבני חשמונאי במלחמותיהם נגד היונים.

Coming from a haredi writer this is quite surprising, and let me explain why. All of the scholars who have argued against the historicity of the miracle of the oil have pointed out that none of the oldest texts dealing with Hanukkah mention this miracle. This includes 1 and 2 Maccabees, the earliest version of Megilat Ta’anit, tannaitic texts, and Josephus. Josephus even suggests a different explanation for why the holiday is called “Lights.” Those who defend the historicity of the miracle have to explain why these sources chose not to mention it.Before Fried, no traditional author had ever suggested that the miracle story was unknown to the tannaim and later rabbinic authors, and that is for an obvious reason. If you say that the tannaim did not know the miracle, to say nothing of the authors of the Book of Maccabees 1 and 2, the earliest version of Megilat Ta’anit, and Josephus, how is it possible that someone who lived a few hundred years later in Babylonia would know about the miracle? By saying that the people who lived in the Land of Israel close to the time of the events did not know the miracle, Fried is providing an argument that the miracle never happened and that the much later story recorded in the Babylonian Talmud is an aggadah which is not to be regarded as historical but rather teaches a lesson as many aggadot do. In other words, Fried’s argument leads to the same conclusion as Slonimski and R. Alexandrov, and for some reason he doesn’t see it.

R. Tuvyah Tavyomi has another approach to the matter.[28] He claims that since the miracle of the oil was only seen by a small group, the leaders of the generation were afraid that the masses, many of whom were hellenized, would not believe the story and thus not adopt the holiday. Therefore, they ordained the lighting of נרות without giving a reason, hiding the real reason from the people. The masses would believe that it was because of the military victory, while those who knew that holidays are only proclaimed for “out of the ordinary” miracles, they would find out about the story of the oil and would certainly believe it. According to R. Tavyomi, this explains why in the Al ha-Nissim prayer which is to be said by all people there is no mention of the miracle of the oil.

Finally, I was surprised that an article by Avraham Ohayon could be published in Shenaton Shaanan, the annual of Shaanan, a religious teachers college.[29] Ohayon’s article not only critically examines the story of the Hanukkah miracle, which he calls מיתוס נפ”ה (נס פך השמן)  (p. 59), but concludes that that it is most likely that the miracle never happened and was invented by the Sages for religious reasons. On pp. 58-59 he writes:

שתיקתם של המקורות ההיסטוריים, ובמידה מסוימת גם של חז”ל ומקורות הלכתיים בעניין נפ”ה – מעוררת שאלות בקשר למשמעות העובדתית של נס זה: האם הנס התרחש, וכתוצאה ממנו קבעו חז”ל את סממניו ההלכתיים, או שכדי לקבוע הלכות לדורות היה צריך קודם לסמוך להם נס?

חלק הארי של המקורות דלעיל – מחזק יותר את קיומה של האפשרות השנייה. . . .

חז”ל החילו שני שינויים במהותו של החג, ושניהם קשורים זה בזה:

האחד – שינוי עיקרו של הנס, מסגידה לניצחון הצבאי – לנס על-טבעי שהוא נפ”ה.

השני – הענקת צביון דתי לחג על-ידי קביעת איסורים שונים, תפילות מיוחדות ומצוות הדלקת הנרות שמונה ימים – כזכר לנפ”ה.

In a note on this passage, Ohayon cites Gedaliah Alon who explains what would have led the Sages to invent the Hanukkah miracle:

[אלון] תומך בדעה השנייה מן הטעם, שחז”ל רצו להשכיח את שם החשמונאים וגבורתם מזיכרון האומה, ואולם לא יכלו לעקור את חג החנוכה גופו. לכן קבעו טעם אגדי ובדרך זו “קיפלו” בו את תקופת החשמונאים, שהרי סיפור נפ”ה התחיל ממקורות חז”ל בלבד. הוא מביא גם נימוקים ליחס זה של חז”ל לחשמונאים.

Nothing Ohayon writes would be surprising if it appeared in a general academic journal, but as mentioned, his article appeared in a religious journal and that is what I find significant.

Returning to R. Samuel Alexandrov, who as mentioned at first supported Slonimski, Geulah bat Yehudah has a nice article on him[30] as does Ehud Luz,[31] and there is a master’s dissertation on him by Tsachi Slater.[32] Yet I would like to call attention to a few things that these authors have not mentioned. To begin with, R. Alexandrov reports that after the death of R. Shemariah Noah Schneersohn he was asked to take the latter’s place as rav of Bobruisk (R. Alexandrov’s place of residence), yet he refused this offer.[33]

In Mikhtevei Mehkar u-Vikoret (1932), pp. 86-87, R. Alexandrov offers a provocative suggestion in explaining why Maimonides was so opposed to rabbis taking money from the community. He calls attention to Hullin 132b which states: “R. Simeon says. A priest who does not believe in the [Temple] service has no portion in the priesthood.” Rashi explains this to mean a priest who thinks the Temple service is nonsense and rather than having been commanded by God was invented by Moses. As for having no portion in the priesthood, Rashi explains that he does not receive a portion of the sacrificial meat.

Maimonides, Hilkhot Bikurim 1:1, codifies the law as follows:

וכל כהן שאינו מודה בהן אין לו חלק בכהנים ואין נותנין לו מתנה מהן.

According to R. Alexandrov, this is the key to understanding why Maimonides opposes rabbis taking money from the community. R. Alexandrov assumes based on what Maimonides writes in the Guide of the Perplexed that he did not really believe in the value of sacrifices. )R. Alexandrov himself did not believe that there would ever be a return to the sacrificial system.[34]) He further states that Maimonides realized that if he were a kohen he would have no portion in the priestly dues. Since the rabbinate, as the religious leadership of the community, replaces the old system of the kehunah, Maimonides reasoned that just as if he were a kohen he could not receive any priestly dues, so too as a rabbi he could take nothing from the community.

בספרו המורה הלא איננו מודה בקרבנות לפי המובן המורגל, ולכן חש בנפשו הנפש היפה שאין לו חלק במתנות כהונה . . . [הנקודות במקור] ובכן על פי טבעו ורוחו אוסר לקבל שכר רבנות, כי אמנם הרבנות הוא דמות זעיר אנפין של הכהונה בימים הקדמונים, כנודע.

R. Alexandrov also says a few things that some haredi readers will appreciate. For example, he explains Avot 2:2:  וכל תורה שאין עמה מלאכה סופה בטלה וגוררת עון in a very original fashion. He understands מלאכה to mean the work of creating Torah novellae! This passage in the Mishnah is always used against the Israeli haredi approach of shunning work in favor of study, and I have never seen a good justification offered as to why the Mishnah’s words can be so easily set aside. Yet with R. Alexandrov’s explanation, this is no longer a problem.[35]

ומה שאמר “כל תורה שאין עמה מלאכה סופה בטלה וגוררת עון”, יש לכוין על מלאכת החדוש והפלפול וההגיון בתורתנו, ואומר כי תורה שאין עמה מלאכה ר”ל מלאכת החדוש סופה בטלה כי באמת רק כח החדוש הנותן פנים להתורה הקדושה בכל דור ודור לפי הרוח השורר אז, הוא הוא המקיים את התורה הישנה בעם ישראל.

* * * * *

1. Dov Weinstein called my attention to the following very significant responsum by R. Ovadiah Yosef that appeared in the journal Beit Yosef, Iyar 5776, no. 169. Over a century ago, R. Shalom Mordechai Schwadron suggested a way of “cleansing” a mamzer by having the husband send his wife a get and then void it before it is delivered. According to the Talmud, in such a case the marriage is to be regarded as annulled despite the fact that the husband voided the get. The problem the Sages had to deal with was if the husband was allowed to void a get after having sent it, the woman who received it would not know that it was invalid and would remarry. Although it would not be her fault, such a situation would result in her future children being mamzerim. The way around this was to decree that in such a case her original marriage was to be regarded as never having been actualized, something which the rabbis have authority to do. R. Schwadron’s originality comes in suggesting that this mechanism could also be used to solve the problem of mamzerut even after the fact, since if the original marriage is annulled in this fashion, by sending a get and then cancelling it before delivery, there is no subsequent adultery. This proposal, which was never put into practice by R. Schwadron, is discussed by R. J. David Bleich in Contemporary Halakhic Problems, vol. 1, pp. 162ff.

R. Ovadiah’s responsum is of great importance since his approach would solve the problem of mamzerut in many case. In earlier years, R. Isser Yehudah Unterman suggested that R. Schwadron’s approach be followed in a particular case,[36] and R. Zvi Pesach Frank actually did so in another case.[37]

2. Is it significant that a haredi website recently published an article from a woman in which she argues that women should be able to become halakhic authorities? Was the website just looking to stir up trouble or is this a sign of something afoot even in the haredi world?

3. There has recently been a problem with the commenting whereby many comments that have Hebrew in them are rejected as spam. One of the rejected comments was by R. Moshe Maimon and is very insightful. Responding to R. Hershel Schachter’s point, discussed here, that Daas Torah authorities must be poskim, R. Maimon wrote:

Here is the Rambam’s formulation of the ‘Daas Torah’ concept:

I don’t recall seeing this passage from אגרת תימן (Sheilat ed. p. 149) quoted in the various articles on the subject, but at any rate it seems to serve as a clear repudiation of Rav Schachter’s view that only poskim can issue Daas Torah directives.

Regarding Daas Torah, someone challenged my statement in my post here that R. Kanievsky actually declared in a formal way that R. Steinman is to be regarded as the new leader. Readers can look at the actual words where R. Kanievsky indeed declares that everyone is “obligated” to follow what R. Steinman says. (An English translation is found here.) I don’t know of any other such declaration in Jewish history. The gedolim have always been “created” by the religious community at large, and the gadol ha-dor (when there has been such a figure) emerged from this group of gedolim based on public acknowledgment. Yet here we have a declaration from one gadol establishing who the gadol ha-dor is and obligating everyone to follow his guidance. Will this be the new model in the haredi world for how to determine who the gadol ha-dor is?

Thanks to the person who doubted what I wrote, I was motivated to find R. Kanievsky’s statement and I see that I did say something incorrect. I wrote that R. Kanievsky’s statement was made after R. Elyashiv’s death, but in fact it was made shortly before R. Elyashiv’s passing, when he was no longer in the position to serve as leader of the generation.

Churches, Ronald McDonald, and More

Marc B. Shapiro

1. In a recent post I mentioned R. Leon Modena, so let me note the following. In my article on entering churches,[1] available here, I mention that R. Modena entered churches to hear the sermons. I also quote R. Eliezer Waldenberg’s description of R. Modena as an איש הפכפך. Only after my article appeared did I find that R. Solomon Scheinfeld uses similar language in describing R. Modena[2]:

R. Scheinfeld’s point about some great Torah scholars (he actually says “many geonim”), that often they have, let’s call it “unusual” characteristics (R. Scheinfeld actually uses a different term), is certainly worthy of note. I first heard this almost thirty years ago from the late R. Herschel Cohen of West Orange, N.J., who in his youth had studied under R. Judah Leib Chasman. As a young man I used to visit him, and one day he showed me a certain sefer. He very much enjoyed the book, but also commented that the author was a “meshugena.” I replied: “But he is a gaon,” and R. Cohen shot back: “There is often a very fine line between a gaon and a meshugena.”[3] In this regard, I would add that R. Moshe Feinstein was wary of geniuses, commenting that אין לנו הרבה נחת מהעילוים.[4]

Regarding R. Modena, it is also worth noting that R. Mordechai Spielman, who knew exactly who R. Modena was, refers to him as הגאון ר’ יהודה ארי’ ממודינא ז”ל. This reference comes from R. Spielman’s Tiferet Tzvi, vol. 6, p. 99. I don’t know how many readers are aware of this significant work on the Zohar, and it is unfortunate that it is not found on either hebrewbooks.org or Otzar ha-Hokhmah. In fact, Tiferet Tzvi is one of the most important works of Torah scholarship not to be found on either of these two sites.

Regarding going into churches to hear sermons, it appears that this is mentioned by R. Isaac Arama. At the beginning of his introduction to Akedat Yitzhak, in speaking of Christian preachers speaking to the population, he writes:

In Hazut Kashah, beginning of sha’ar 4, he writes:

In the introduction to his edition of Akedat Yitzhak, note 6, R. Hayyim Joseph Pollak, suggests that R. Arama is referring to sermons that Jews were forced to attend, but in the first source this doesn’t seem to be what he is referring to.

Returning to my article on entering churches, I am honored that Rabbi J. David Bleich used some of the sources I collected and mentioned a couple of my comments in his own article on the topic that appeared in Tradition 44:2 (2011), pp. 73-101 (available here, and it has also just appeared in Contemporary Halakhic Problems, vol. 7).[5] I now have some additional sources to add. With regard to R. Modena, in my article I neglected to refer to his autobiography where he also describes being present for a sermon in the San Geremia church in Venice, which is very close to the Jewish ghetto.[6]

In my listing of those rabbis known to have entered churches,[7] I referred to R. Jacob Meir, who served as Rishon le-Tziyon. Unfortunately, one word (בכנסיה) was mistakenly omitted from the quotation, and readers might therefore have wondered why I assumed that R. Meir entered the church. Here is the full quotation, with the crucial word underlined. It comes from Gad Frumkin, Derekh Shofet bi-Yerushalayim (Tel Aviv, 1954), p. 294:

In fact, the mistaken omission of the word בכנסיה created another problem. When I read over the article just before publication, I didn’t realize that the word בכנסיה had been mistakenly deleted. I therefore added a note that maybe the meaning of the passage is that R. Meir only went to the home of Ronald Storrs, who was the Jerusalem Military Governor. (R. Bleich quotes my mistaken assumption.[8]) I also changed my formulation prior to the quotation to say that R. Meir “appears” to have entered a church. However, as we can see from the passage, Frumkin is clear that R. Meir indeed entered the church for the event.

R. Immanuel Jakobovits was asked if he would go into a church. He replied: “Perhaps for a visit, but not during prayers or a religious ceremony.” He also recounted a time when while visiting Russia it seems that he got stuck in a church during a prayer service:

As mentioned in note 7, the British chief rabbis will enter churches for various official events. As R. Jakobovits wrote on another occasion, this policy has the approval of the London Beth Din.

Another relevant text is from R. Shlomo Riskin who wrote as follows[10]:

R. Asher Weiss here provides support, bediavad, for R. Haskel Lookstein’s attendance at a prayer service in a church which was part of the celebrations following President Obama’s inauguration.

In my article on entering churches I refer to R. Joseph Messas’ responsum in which he mentions going into a church. I subsequently found that in his Otzar ha-Mikhtavim, vol. 1, no. 280 (p. 133), he tells of a visit to Malaga, Spain, where he also entered a church. Earlier, while still in Spanish Morocco, he explained to some non-Jews that Jews do not hold a grudge against Spain and do not hate contemporary Spaniards because of what their forefathers did. He then said something very strange (p. 131), namely, that contemporary Jews have to be thankful to the earlier Spaniards for how they persecuted the Jews of their time, since this enables everyone to see how connected Jews are to God, that despite the persecution they did not give up their faith! Is there any other rabbinic text that lets murderers “off the hook” so easily?

R. Messas finds other ways to be “melamed zekhut” on those who persecuted and even killed Jews in Spain, and if I didn’t know that he was a truly great rabbinic authority,[14] I might think that what he writes comes from the pen of a Catholic apologist for the Spanish Inquisition.[15]

Regarding entering churches, also of interest is the report of the sixteenth-century painter and writer, Giorgio Vasari, that Roman Jews would come on the Sabbath to the Church of San Pietro in Rome to stand before Michelangelo’s statue of Moses.[16]

A number of years ago, R. Dov Linzer gave a shiur on this very topic of entering churches. At the time, I called his attention to some responsa that do not deal with this matter, but which permitted Jews to donate money to assist in building a church. These responsa are R. Mordechai Horowitz, Mateh Levi, vol. 2, Yoreh Deah, no. 28, R. Isaac Unna, Shoalin ve-Dorshin, no. 35, R. Shalom Messas, Shemesh u-Magen, vol. 3, Orah Hayyim, nos. 30-31. When there is fear of enmity (and only in this circumstance), R. Yehudah Herzl Henkin, Benei Vanim, vol. 3, no. 36, also permits donating money for the building of a church, as long as the building can be built without the Jew’s donation or his donation is merely symbolic. R. Henkin also suggests that the person donating the money make it a condition that the money go to building the parking lot or something not connected to worship. (He concludes that these suggestions will also allow one to donate to a Reform or Conservative synagogue if not doing so could arouse enmity.) In the interest of full disclosure I should mention that the first responsum of R. Messas as well as R. Henkin’s responsum were sent to me.

Some time after I showed R. Linzer these responsa, there was an attack on a church in Charleston where nine people were killed. The very next day there was an arson attack by a radical Jew (or perhaps more than one individual) against a church in the Galilee. This followed other acts of vandalism directed against churches in Israel in recent years. R. Linzer sent out the following email.

Rabbosai,

Given the recent horrific attack in Charleston and the terrible burnings of churches that has occurred in the last few days, I encourage all of you to show your support for those who have been attacked, and to act in a way of kiddush shem Shamayim to counteract these terrible hate crimes.

One way you can do this is by donating money to help in the rebuilding of these churches. While there are poskim who rule otherwise (see Melamed li’hoyil 188:2), a number of recent poskim have dealt with this issue on a halakhic basis and ruled that it is totally permissible and at times even obligatory.[17] This is based on the widely accepted ruling that Christianity is not avoda zara for non-Jews. Thus, helping non-Jews in their permissible worship of God can in no way be considered מסייע לדבר עבירה, a form of aiding transgressive behavior. Some of these teshuvot have pointed out that church buildings are often repurposed as synagogues, and this again points to the non-halakhically problematic status of these buildings. Relatedly, Rav Moshe (YD 1:68) ruled that an architect can draw up the plans for the construction of a church, and that mi’ikar ha’din it is permitted to actually participate in the building of a church (and this is even without the argument that it is not avoda zara for them!).

There are some halakhic issues when giving to avoda zara directly implicates the giver in the avoda itself (see YD 149:4 and 143), but that is not relevant to this case.

I am attaching 3 contemporary teshuvot, all thanks to Marc Shapiro, who is the shoel of the teshuva of Rav Meshash [!], and who make the argument as outlined above.

I would like to quote in particular from the teshuva of the Mateh Levi, both the question and a section from the beginning and end of the answer:

R. Linzer was attacked after this email was sent out, and some people made it seem as if he had come up with a crazy idea. Yet the truth is that what he suggested – donating to a church – had already been approved by a couple of recognized gedolei Yisrael. Even his point about making a kiddush ha-shem has a precedent in R. Mordechai Horowitz, the Matteh Levi, who said exactly this in discussing Moses Montefiore’s donation to a church, and this is quoted in R. Linzer’s email.

Regarding kiddush ha-shem, even if we don’t go as far as R. Linzer, I think that one can make a good case that donating to a church can be a sanctification of God’s name if, as happened in Israel, the church was set on fire by a radical Jew (or Jews). We cannot have the spectacle of Jews burning down churches in Israel, and the damage this can do to Jews worldwide is immense. Would it be out of line to argue that if Jews burn down a church, that at least to prevent enmity Jews should also help rebuild it? It is easy to see how such an action can be regarded as a kiddush ha-shem, even if most poskim would see it as technically forbidden. (I wonder, can something be both a kiddush ha-shem and a violation of halakhah?) In fact, after the church was burnt in Israel, a number of rabbis, including the great R. Nachum Rabinovitch, helped raise money to repair it.[18] What this shows is that the matter is not as clear-cut as might appear at first glance.

Speaking of Jewish donations to churches, it is of interest that Mordechai Maisel (1528-1601), the leader of the Prague Jewish community, donated to the St. Salvator Church, which is very close to the Jewish Quarter. Rachel L. Greenblatt writes that this was “an alliance-seeking neighborly act not as unusual as it might sound.”[19] Yet I do not know of any other case like this in the sixteenth century or prior, so it certainly sounds unusual to me. Unfortunately, it is not known if any of the Prague rabbis approved of Maisel’s donation, which Maisel must have assumed would create a lot of good will with the non-Jewish population, good will that might later save the community from an expulsion or even a pogrom. Two hundred years later, Meyer Amschel Rothschild (1744-1812) donated money to build a church in Kassel. The local ruler required this in order for Rothschild to be regarded as a “protected Jew” in Kassel, where he often stayed while conducting business.[20]

I have a lot I would like to say about Christianity and its impact on Judaism, in particular when it comes to seforim. For  now, here is something that I very recently found and I am not sure if it is a conscious distortion. In R. Moses Hayyim Luzzatto’s Tikunim Hadashim (Jerusalem, 1958), p. 10, as part of his messianic vision he states as follows:

R. Mordechai Chriqui has edited numerous works of Ramhal. In 1986 he published Yesod Olam, which a short book on Ramhal’s life and thought. On p. 43 he provides the following Hebrew translation of part of the Aramaic text just cited:

Yet this translation is completely mistaken. I wonder if this is an innocent mistake or was intentional so that the reader not see a text that sounds Christian (although Ramhal was not referring to Jesus). What the Aramaic text really means, and I have underlined the crucial part, is that all will align themselves with your only son, the Messiah. I am curious to hear what readers think about this (and maybe someone will even want to defend Chriqui’s rendering).[21]

Further on the subject of Christianity, R. Chaim Rapoport published an interesting responsum by R. Hayyim Galipapa (fourteenth century) of Spain.[22] In this responsum, R. Galipapa states that the Trinity is not to be regarded as avodah zarah. (R. Rapoport claims that he only means that it is not avodah zarah for non-Jews, who are not obligated to have an absolutely pure conception of God, but is indeed to be regarded as avodah zarah as far as Jews are concerned.) Here are R. Galipapa’s words:

Finally, in my article on entering churches I noted that R. Jacob Meir, the Rishon le-Tziyon, wore a ceremonial medallion in the shape of a cross (I am not sure which government awarded this to him). 

You can see it here.

Here is an Israeli stamp with R. Meir on it, and you can see the medallion.

Yehudah Mirsky called my attention to this picture of R. Kook that is found in Mar’eh Kohen (Jerusalem, 2002), p. 52. The British medallion, awarded by King George V, is not completely showing.[23] I would assume, and Mirsky agrees,[24] that this was intentional.

2. In his post here, Eliezer Brodt mentioned the new book Ha-Gedolim (available here). My article in the volume is on the Steipler. As you can see from the table of contents posted by Brodt, they wanted to give each article a catchy title. One of the editors suggested Ha-Tamim for the title of my article, and I thought that this was a good suggestion. In traditional rabbinic literature תמים has the connotation of pure and unblemished, and this is how one can describe someone who has a simple, unquestioning faith. This, I thought, was a great description of the Steipler who was opposed to philosophical investigation of Judaism and even opposed polemicizing with the non-Orthodox for fear that this might expose readers to non-Orthodox ideas. (Chabad yeshiva students are also referred to as tamim.)

However, the word tamim can also have the connotation of “unsophisticated”. Even though this is clearly not what I had in mind, since at least a few people wondered about the word, I clarified it in a comment to Brodt’s post. I also asked if anywhere in rabbinic literature does the word tamim mean anything other than what I have written. From the responses I received, I have to say that the answer is no. While the word tam is used to mean “unsophisticated,” the word tamim only has a positive connotation. At least that is the opinion of everyone I have discussed the matter with. I also searched Otzar ha-Hokhmah where I found references to rabbis referred to as הגאון התמים. Otzar ha-Hokhmah also reminded me of how R. Jehiel Jacob Weinberg described his deceased student, R. Saul Weingort[25]:

The Maharal writes[26]:

One of the Seforim Blog readers was helpful in sending a number of relevant texts, illustrating the original meaning of tamim. Among these texts is one from the 1980s by R. Shlomo Tzadok who actually laments how the word tamim, which is supposed to have a positive connotation, has been turned into a negative term.[27]

2. Seth Rogovoy published an article in the Forward titled “The Secret Jewish History of McDonald’s.” What precipitated the article was the recent appearance of the movie “The Founder” about Ray Croc of McDonald’s fame. Rogovoy focuses on Harry Sonneborn, the first President of McDonald’s, who came up with the idea of turning McDonald’s into a real estate empire, by owning the land under the restaurants and leasing it to the franchisees.

There is another “secret” Jewish history of McDonald’s, one which I think is of much greater interest. Ronald McDonald is the world’s most widely recognized commercial mascot, and he has “a recognition factor among children equaled only by Santa Claus.”[28] How many people know that it was a Jewish man, Oscar Goldstein, who was responsible for Ronald McDonald? The story is told in a number of places, most comprehensively in John F. Love’s McDonald’s: Behind the Arches from which I am taking the following description.

The most successful McDonald’s operation in the company’s history is that of Goldstein and his partner John Gibson. In 1956 they made a deal with Kroc for an exclusive franchise for the Washington, D.C. area. Gibson was behind the scenes focusing on financial and real estate matters, while Goldstein was running the actual restaurants which eventually reached 53. (Love says that there were 43 restaurants, but I was given other information.) As part of Goldstein’s advertising campaign, he sponsored a television show in the Washington market called Bozo’s Circus. The person who played Bozo was none other than Willard Scott, who would later find fame on the Today show.

When Bozo’s Circus went off the air, Goldstein decided that he needed another clown to appeal to the children. His ad agency came up with a clown which it proposed to call Archie McDonald. Willard Scott suggested the name Ronald McDonald, which was chosen, and Scott played the first Ronald McDonald. (Scott has often claimed that he invented Ronald McDonald, while in truth all he did – significant in and of itself – is to come up with the name.)

By the mid-1960s, the McDonald’s franchise in Washington was spending $500,000 a year on advertising – most of it on Ronald McDonald. It was more than any other local or national fast-food chain was spending on advertising, more than even McDonald’s Corporation itself. Goldstein also used Ronald McDonald to open each new store it built, and his personal appearances never failed to create traffic jams.

By 1965, Goldstein was convinced that he had discovered in Ronald McDonald the perfect national spokesman for the chain, and he offered the clown free of charge to Max Cooper, the publicist who by then had been hired as McDonald’s first director of marketing. Surprisingly, Cooper turned him down. “I told him the outfit was too corny and not up to our standards,” Cooper recalls. “Goldstein reminded me that his was the most successful market in the system.” After reflecting on that, Cooper decided not to argue, and he proposed a national Ronald McDonald to Harry Sonneborn.[29]

Here is a picture from Love’s book. Goldstein is second from the right. Harry Sonneborn is on the far right. Ray Kroc is standing in the middle.

I am certain that other than members of my family and old friends, all other readers are wondering why I have such an interest in McDonald’s. The answer is that Oscar Goldstein was my grandfather, my mother’s father. Jews are well known for being responsible for so much in American culture, but for some reason, Ronald McDonald as a Jewish creation has slipped through the cracks. Hopefully that will now change.

One final point: Why do I say that my grandfather owned 53 stores when Love puts the number at 43? Because that is what I heard from my grandmother, Gwendolyn Goldstein Freishtat, who passed away in January 2015 at the age of 99. When I questioned if she was sure it was 53, she insisted that there was no doubt. “I knew every one of those stores,” she said.

3. In my recent interview in the fascinating Der Veker, available here, I mention that I have a forthcoming article dealing with Modern Orthodoxy and modern biblical scholarship. Once the article appears I will have more to say about it on the blog. For now, let me just note that in the article I try to show how in some segments of liberal Modern Orthodoxy there has been a reinterpretation of the core theological principle of Torah mi-Sinai so as to align it with modern scholarship. I see this as a major theological development. There is no need to speak more about this now, as once the article appears readers can evaluate the evidence and see whether they think I am on to something.

One significant publication that appeared too late to be mentioned in the article is a new book by Jerome Yehuda Gellman, This Was From God: A Contemporary Theology of Torah and History. This book is precisely the sort of evidence I cite in the article to illustrate the changes that have taken place in recent years. Rather than summarize the book, let me just quote the first two paragraphs.

Increasingly, well-informed traditional Jews may find themselves distrustful of the reliability of Torah as history because of the conclusions of scholarly research from natural science, history, linguistics, Bible criticism and archaeology. And, they may not be swayed by attempts to restore their trust. If they do not have a fitting theology for their new predicament, they may well give up on Judaism altogether or else give up on their traditional Judaism. Or, they may simply repress their difficulty because they see no way of dealing with it that will allow them to retain their traditional religious loyalty. They will carry on as if they believed in the historical veracity of the Torah, when in fact they do not.

As one who has lived with this problem, I want to now propose that a person with prior emunah, belief and faith/loyalty in God and in the holiness of the Torah remain faithful to keeping God and the holiness of the Torah at the center of his or her life. What is needed is a theology that appreciates the force of the challenge to Torah as history and preserves one’s traditional religious loyalty. That is the task of the present book.

Gellman’s arguments are original and he even makes use of hasidic texts. Particularly interesting is his critique of the so-called Kuzari Argument that is sometimes used in support of the revelation at Sinai.

I mentioned Gellman’s book to someone and expressed the opinion that even if another ten theologians were to write similar books, I don’t see this as having any real impact on the ground – although it will be appealing for certain intellectuals – because at the end of the day traditional Judaism is a religion of halakhah and its leaders are talmudists and halakhic authorities. If a new theological approach does not have the imprimatur of even one outstanding religious authority – gadol for lack of a better term – I don’t see how it can gain traction in the community at large. In previous years I have made the same point about changes in women’s roles and so-called partnership minyanim. These phenomena are also having trouble making headway because they too are lacking the necessary imprimatur. Interestingly, years ago someone responded to me that my point was not valid because I was operating under an outdated “paradigm” in assuming that changes in religious life, and now we can say in theology as well, needed the imprimatur of a gadol. Yet I would like to see one example of a significant change in theology or religious life that reached wide acceptance without such an imprimatur.

4. Among other new books worth mentioning is R. Yonason Rosman’s Petihat ha-Iggerot available here. This book goes through R. Moshe Feinstein’s Iggerot Moshe and records discussions and criticisms of R. Feinstein’s points. It is like the Likutei Hearot on the Hatam Sofer’s responsa with one crucial difference: R. Rosman does not limit himself to citing traditional rabbinic works, but he also refers to English language halakhic writings and even academic works. The Seforim Blog is also mentioned a number of times.

2. In recent posts I discussed the idea of love before marriage in traditional Jewish communities. It is worth noting in this regard Rachel Morpurgo’s book of poetry, Ugav Rahel (Cracow, 1890). Here is the title page.

Rachel Morpurgo was a cousin of Samuel David Luzzatto, and a fascinating and learned figure in her own right. In the introduction to the book, p. 6, R. Isaac Castiglione tells us that Rachel’s parents wanted her to marry a certain man, but she refused as she was in love with Jacob Morpurgo. If she could not marry him, she preferred to remain single. (In the end, they did marry.)

Her cousin Luzzatto sent her a poem, trying to change her mind, and she replied also in a poem, expertly using many of the same words that Luzzatto had used. In her poem she says that if she can’t marry the man she wants, she will never marry, not even if given the possibility to marry the Messiah. Here are both of their poems, from Ugav Rahel, pp. 50-51, and Rachel’s poem in honor of her marriage, p. 52.

 

Here is another interesting poem from p. 71. We see that Morpurgo wanted to join Moses Montefiore on his journey to the Land of Israel.

On p. 73 she has a poem of joy after an evil Catholic priest died and was buried on Purim.

She was also able to write riddle poems, which was a popular genre among the Hebraists. Here is one from pp. 76-77

3. In the archive of R. Isaac Herzog there are a number of letters from R. Herzog relevant to the issue of science and Torah.[18] He was writing to scientists and historians asking them how certain it is that the world is billions of years old and that humanity has been in existence for more than 6000 years. One of the people he wrote to was Professor George F. Carter. Carter was a believing Catholic, and in his letters to R. Herzog you see that he could not understand why there should be any conflict between Torah and science. It astounded him that R. Herzog seemed to feel that the scientific and historical information in the Torah must be accepted as factual, when from his Catholic perspective the point of the Bible is not to provide facts of this nature. In his letter of November 23, 1953, R. Herzog wrote to Carter.

[L]et me recapitulate my problem. Not that we have as a dogma a certain chronology but the chronology automatically results from the plain text of the Book of Genesis, as you undoubtedly know yourself, that troubled the minds of some great rabbis nearly a century ago with the rise of the science of Geology. Most ignore the data of science altogether. Some, however, replied that the world was created enormous [missing word] of time ago, but that at certain points mankind was recurrently blotted out and the present world is a certain phase in that recurrent process of creation and destruction. Hence they explained the fossils which bear evidence of such high antiquity etc. They based their explanation upon an old saying in a pre-mediaeval Rabbinic collection: “The Holy One Best be His Name kept on building up worlds and destroying them.” Note that the meaning of “destroying” in that connection is not total annihilation as you will easily understand. Now the problem as it presents itself to me is whether the short period of less than six thousand years or (counting from the deluge when according to Genesis only a few persons survived) some 5000 years is sufficient to account for the numbers of mankind, for its distribution all over the globe, for the advance and progress of mankind, which in the natural course require considerable time, say the art of recording or writing etc., etc. If you assume divine interposition, the progress could be achieved in much less time. Think of the time according to science it took wood to be turned into coal, and of the time it takes for that process at the kitchen fire-side! Yet the question remains: Is it possible to speak of such constant divine interposition within say the first 2000 years of the past 6 or 5 thousand years since the beginning of the Biblical chronology to promote civilisation, the distribution of mankind and to multiply mankind to such an extent? I may add that our great teacher Maimonides from whom your Catholic great thinker Thomas Aquinas drew so much, was in his time confronted with Aristotle’s eternity of the universe which contradicted Jewish belief. He started out with the premise that if Aristotle’s point was absolutely proved, he would explain bara in Genesis not in the sense of created but in another sense, and would thus reconcile the divine Towah [!] with scientific truth, but he found that Aristotle had not proved his point and he therefore left bara in its plain sense.[19] I say something similar. If men of science prompted by absolute truth definitely and unanimously decide that the above chronology is not only unlikely but is actually impossible and therefore absurd, I would reinterpret the Biblical text in a different sense, but before doing that, I must be perfectly certain. Remember that the divine truth of every word in the Pentateuch is a dogma of orthodox Judaism, is believed to be the word of G-d through Moses. Yet orthodox Judaism is not a slave to the literal sense. It teaches that G-d is beyond all human thought and imagination and therefore it regards the anthropomorphisms as mere figures of speech: it also lays down that the Torah speaks in the language of humans. But there is of course a difference between understanding the Eyes of G-d as meaning divine Providence and interpreting the chronology of six thousand years as standing for aeons!

In this letter, and in other letters in his archive, the issue R. Herzog is most troubled with is not the creation of the world and the evidence that this took place billions of years ago. Rather, his concern is with the length of time of humanity on earth, for if there is indisputable evidence of humanity for tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands of years, then what is one to do with the chronology that “results from the plain text of the book of Genesis,” by which he means the record of generations beginning with Adam? As far as R. Herzog is concerned, this matter is not so much a religious question but a historical question, and that explains why he inquired from experts in this matter.[20] For if we are dealing with a fact, undisputed and recognized by all experts, that humanity has existed for longer than the biblical account would have it, then following Maimonides R. Herzog believes that is no choice but to read the Torah’s account in a non-literal fashion.

Readers can correct me if I am wrong, but I think that in the Modern Orthodox world the matter that R. Herzog was so exercised about has been settled. In other words, I don’t see any evidence that people in these communities are concerned that in Modern Orthodox schools, in classes on ancient history, students are taught things such as that around 10,000 BCE farming communities existed in the Middle East and North Africa. I know from personal experience that textbooks used in Modern Orthodox schools offer precisely this sort of information that assumes that human civilization predates the traditional Jewish reckoning. From what I have seen, this is presented to the students without, however, taking the step that R. Herzog mentioned, namely, explaining what then becomes of the biblical chronology when it is no longer viewed as historical.[21]

7. In my post here I mention that in medieval rabbinic literature the words צעירים and דורשים mean Franciscans and Dominicans. David S. Zinberg called my attention to R. Joseph Ibn Caspi, Mishneh Kesef, vol. 2, p. 257. In commenting on how Moses was not celibate and even took a second wife, he writes:

כי אינו צעיר ודורש, או אגוסטי וכרמלי

“For he was not a Franciscan or a Dominican or an Augustinian or a Carmelite.”

Zinberg also called my attention to Mishneh Kesef, vol. 1, p. 106, where he writes about כת הצעירים מארצנו זאת

I also found that R. Israel Moses Hazan, Nahalah le-Yisrael, p. 84, refers to the Dominicans as כת הדרשנים

8. I know readers will be happy to learn of a significant event in the world of Torah and academic Jewish scholarship: A previously unknown responsum by Maimonides has just been published in Divre Hefetz 7 (Tishrei 5777). You can see it here.

9. The newest book in my series, Studies in Orthodox Judaism, has appeared. It is Darren Kleinberg, Hybrid Judaism: Irving Greenberg, Encounter, and the Changing Nature of American Jewish Identity. Anyone interested in a discount copy of the book should be in touch with me.A few other books recently appeared that I would like to bring to readers’ attention. R. Moshe Zuriel published the following works by Naftali Hertz Wessely: Gan Naul, Sefer ha-Midot, Migdal ha-Levanon, and Hikur Din. The first two books have been published before, but Zuriel has included unpublished material. Migdal ha-Levanon appears in print for the first time. All scholars who deal with Wessely will have to examine these works.

Another recent publication is R. David ben Judah he-Hasid, Sefer ha-Gevul, edited by Bentsion Cohen. This is a kabbalistic work published from manuscript. The author, R. David, is none other than the grandson of Nahmanides. Here is how the book is described on the cover: “This book is one of the first attempts by a contemporary of the Zohar discovery to give a lucid and graphical interpretation to the mysterious complex issues of divinity as discussed in the Idra Rabbah of the Zohar. His approach is one of the earliest to present an interpretation of the Sephirot in the image of a person.” The book also includes the numerous illustrations that appear in the manuscript.

10. Readers sometimes ask me about upcoming lectures, so I would like to inform people that on the Shabbat of Dec. 16-17, 2016 (including Saturday night) I will be speaking at Ner Yisrael in London. On Sunday night, Dec. 18, I will be speaking at the Hampstead Synagogue at 8:15pm. The topic is “Some Strange Jewish Christmas Eve Practices.” On Wednesday, Dec. 21, I will be speaking at the London School of Jewish Studies at 8pm on the topic of “Touching God: What Are the Limits of Orthodox Theology?” On Thursday, Dec. 22, I will be speaking at Shomrei Hadath at 8pm on the topic of “Sense and Censorship: Is Historical Truth an Orthodox Value?” On the Shabbat of Dec. 24-25 (including Saturday night) I will be speaking at Kehillat Ohev Shalom.

On the Shabbat of Jan. 6-7, 2017, I will be in Flatbush. During services on Friday night at Bnei Yitzhak, I will give a short talk on R. Elijah Benamozegh. After an early tefillah at the Sephardic Institute, I will be speaking at 8:45am on “The Philosophy of Rav Kook: Is It Still Relevant?” On Shabbat afternoon at 3pm I will be speaking at Beth Torah on “Judaism and Islam: Some Historical and Halakhic Perspectives.” On Saturday night at 8pm I will be speaking at the Sephardic Institute on “Did the Sages Always Tell the Truth (and Should We)?”