In Professor Daniel Sperber’s latest book, Netivot Pesikah (Jerusalem, Reuven Mass, 2008), one of the areas he discusses the importance of having an awareness of is bibliography. As Eliezer Brodt noted in his review at the Seforim blog, Sperber provides examples where people have gone wrong due to their lack of bibliographical knowledge. Of course, long before Sperber, the importance of Jewish bibliography was already noted by R. Shabbatai Bass, most well-known for his super-commentary on Rashi, Siftei Hakahmim, but also the author of the earliest Jewish bibliography, Siftei Yeshanim.[1] In the introduction to Siftei Yeshanim, Bass discusses generally why bibliography is important. Then, in Ben-Jacob’s bibliography of Hebrew books, Otzar haSeforim, R. Shlomo haKohen of Vilna in his approbation lists numerous examples where people erred due to lack of bibliographical knowledge.

A particularly illustrative example was the republication of the work on the laws of Shabbat, Madanei Asher. A kollel had a group of people working on to study the book and then republish it. Although they studied the book in depth they failed to look up the bibliographical information on the book. Had they done so, they would have discovered that the book is plagiarised from another book, Shulhan Shitim by R. Shlomo Chelm, the author of the Merkevet HaMishnah. Instead, they invested considerable time and effort in ensuring that the wider public has access to a plagiarized work.[2]

Another such example of an egregious error due to lack of bibliographical information can be found in the Machon Yerushalayim edition of the Shulhan Arukh. Included in this edition is the commentary of R. Menachem Mendel Auerbach, Ateret Zekeinim. In Orah Hayyim, no. 54, R. Auerbach discusses whether the word “Hai” – het, yud – should be punctuated with a patach or a tzeri.[3].R. Auerbach states “one should have a tzeri under the letter het . . . and this in accord with what R. Shabbatai writes in his siddur, however, the Maharal of Prague says to use a patach.” Now, when R. Auerbach references R. Shabbatai and his siddur, the Machon Yerushalayim edition includes an explanatory note “Siddur haArizal in the Barukh She’amar prayer.” Thus, according to Machon Yerushalayim, R. Auerbach is quoting the Siddur haArizal compiled by R. Shabbatai Rashkover. That, in and of itself, is a bit odd as this Siddur is more interested – as the title implies – in the Ari and his kabbalistic ideas, rather than on grammar. Therefore, to use it in a discussion of grammar, which the quote in question is dealing with, is a bit odd! Setting that aside, there is a more fundamental mistake here, as the Siddur compiled by R. Rashkover was only published for the first time in Koretz in 1795. R. Auerbach lived from 1620-1689. Thus, he was dead for over 100 years prior to the publication of the Siddur of R. Rashkover. Moreover, the Ateres Zekeinim was first published in 1702 in Amsterdam, also long before the Siddur in question was ever published. The Rashkover’s Siddur was only first written in 1755 and not published until 1797.[4] What is particularly striking about this example is that if one actually examines Rashkover’s siddur, he doesn’t even have a tzeri in the word in question!

Instead, the siddur in question from “R. Shabbatai” is that of R. Shabbatai Sofer, the well-known grammarian. As this R. Shabbatai is a grammarian, and his siddur was written specifically to correct and highlight the proper grammatical readings, – see the lengthy introduction to this siddur, where R. Shabbatai bemoans the carelessness of people towards proper grammar – it makes perfect sense to quote this siddur from this “R. Shabbatai.” This is not the only place R. Auerbach quotes R. Shabbatai, one quote in particular is important as it dispels who the “R. Shabbatai” Auerbach is referring to. In Orah Hayyim, no. 122, Auerbach gives R. Shabbatai’s full name in another discussion about proper grammar. Auerbach refers to “I also saw this in the Siddur of R. Shabbatai of Przemysl.” R. Shabbati of Przemysl is otherwise known as R. Shabbatai Sofer (1565-1635)[5] and that is who is referred to earlier as well.

In conclusion, it is worthwhile noting that the text in question – the correct pronunciation of the word het yud – how R. Sofer actually pronounced that is unclear. There are two versions, but for the details of that one should see the edition of R. Sofer’s Siddur (Baltimore, 1994), vol. 2, p. 56.

Notes:
[1] First printed in Amsterdam in 1680 and in an expanded edition in 1806.

[2] This was pointed on by Y. Tosher in Moriah 7:83-84 (1978): 79. This claim of plagiarism was examined by Yonah Burstein, “Shulhan ‘Arukh by R. Shlomo Chelm (Review),” Ali Sefer 16 (1990):177-179.

[3] See the work Yashresh Ya’akov where he has a very comprehensive discussion about the this word and its punctuation.

[4] See Pinchas Giller, “Between Poland and Jerusalem: Kabbalistic Prayer in Early Modernity,” in Modern Judaism 24:3 (2004): 230, and see Geller’s general discussion regarding the importance of Rashkover’s edition for the development of Lurianic kabbalah on the siddur.

[5] On R. Sofer see Stefan C. Reif, Shabbethai Sofer and His Prayer-Book (Cambridge & New York: Cambridge University Press, 1979).

The new issue of Ohr Yisrael, no. 50. has a couple of articles I wanted to highlight. First, they have a section devoted to essentially whether the ArtScroll Gemara is a good thing or not. While in the United States the English version has been around for awhile, only recently has the Hebrew edition been on the market and it appears that it is very popular. Thus, there are those who are questioning if this is a positive step or not. Many of the articles are highly negative towards Artscroll and some even claim that if a person cannot learn Gemara without such an aid they should not be doing so at all.

The final article in this section is by R. Chaim Rapoport, a frequent contributor at the Seforim blog, and is the most comprehensive of the bunch. R. Rapoport demonstrates that ArtScroll — and he points out it is not only ArtScroll anymore but others have published Gemaras that explain the text — is not new. Rather, in the late 19th and early 20th century a similar work, HaMadrich, was published with many outstanding approbations. [This portion of the article, as R. Rapoport notes, is heavily based upon R. Yehoshua Mondshein’s article on HaMadrich that appears in Kovets Zekhor l’Avrohom, (2000-2001), 349.]

Thus, R. Rapoport argues if those gedolim gave approbations then, they would have no problem today with the ArtScroll.

R. Rapoport in the second half of the article does point out a few (according to him) deficiencies in ArtScroll Gemaras as well as the ArtScroll Siddur. R. Rapoport notes that ArtScroll Gemaras use an academic commentary to explain the half flesh/half dirt mouse discussed in the Mishnah in Hullin (9:6). Specifically, ArtScroll quotes approvingly R. Samson Raphael Hirsch’s comments on how to understand such Aggadot. Additionally, R. Rapoport notes that, at times, ArtScroll appears to have selectively quoted Rishonim to “conform with modern sensibilities.”

Second, this issue contains an article on the customs surrounding Brit Milah by R. Yaakov Hayyim Sofer. Additionally, there is a very comprehensive article on the publication of R. Wolf Boskowitz’s works.

Finally, there is a section on Shemittah and “Amirah leAkum.”

Menachem Mendel Krochmal, Zemer Na’ah l’Kovod haTorah, (Brooklyn, NY, 2007); 73 pages. This is a reprint of the Amsterdam, 1675 edition and includes an introduction that includes biographical information on R. Krochmal. Additionally, as this work is for Simchat torah and when dedicating a new Torah, included are R. Krochmal’s teshuvot discussing hilchot sefer torah. The book can be purchased at Biegeleisen or by contacting Shmuel Stefansky at 718.437.4044

Dovid Felbarbaum, Halichot Kodesh (Brooklyn, NY, 2007), 20, 316 pages. A collection of customs, nusachei teffilah, and other daily acts by Chief Rabbi of Kassan, R. Yisrael Tzvi Rattonberg. To purchase this book, aside from Beigeleisen, the following are provided, 718.336.8971 or 718.972.4078.

Daniel J. Lasker is Norbert Blechner Professor of Jewish Values at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Beer Sheva, and is chair of the Goldstein-Goren Department of Jewish Thought. His landmark work Jewish Philosophical Polemics against Christianity in the Middle Ages, originally published in 1977, was recently republished with a new introduction in 2007.

This is Professor Lasker’s first post at the Seforim blog.

We Jews in Israel have been praying for rain since the seventh of Marheshvan (the night of Thursday, October 18), but, unfortunately, so far the prayers have generally not yet been answered (especially in Beer Sheva where I live). Next week, it will be the chance of Jews who live in the Diaspora to pray for rain, beginning in Maariv of the night of Wednesday, December 5 (the eve of December 6). As undoubtedly all readers of the Seforim blog know, the dates for asking for rain (adding the words ve-ten tal u-matar li-verakha to the ninth blessing of the Shemoneh Esreh, in the Ashkenazi and Nusah Sefarad rites; or changing the form of that blessing from Barkheinu to Bareikh Aleinu, in what is now usually known as the Edot ha-Mizrah rite) are different for the Land of Israel and for the Diaspora. Perhaps not all readers know 1) why there is a difference; 2) why most years one begins the prayer in Maariv of December 4 (the eve of December 5); and 3) why one begins on December 5 this year.

Mishnah Ta’anit 1:3 reads: “On the third of Marheshvan one is to begin praying for rain; Rabban Gamaliel says: ‘On the seventh of that month, fifteen days after the feast of Tabernacles, so that even the tardiest Israelite may reach the Euphrates [on the return journey from the pilgrimage to Jerusalem].’” The Talmud (Ta’anit 10a) records Rabbi Eleazar as stating that the law follows Rabban Gamaliel. Despite the fact that the pilgrimage on Sukkot is no longer binding, and modern methods of transportation obviate the need to wait two weeks for the pilgrims to return home, the practice has remained constant: in the Land of Israel, she’elat geshamim (the prayer for rain) begins on the eve of the seventh of Marheshvan.

The same Talmudic passage records that, in the Golah, the practice was to wait “until the sixtieth [day] of the [autumnal] equinox (ad shishim ba-tequfah)” before beginning the prayer. No explanation is given for this difference between Israel and Babylonia, but there are good reasons to believe that it has to do with the meteorological and agricultural differences between the countries. Jews in Babylonia did not need, nor did they want, the winter rains to begin until two thirds of the autumn season had passed; therefore, they waited longer before beginning the prayer. Both communities, however, began “mentioning” rain (mashiv ha-ruah) on Shemini Atzeret, and they ceased mentioning rain and saying the special prayer for rain at Passover.[1]

What about Jews in other countries? Should Jews in these areas pray for rain according to the needs of their own country of residence, as did Jews in the Land of Israel and in Babylonia, or should they employ an already established schedule? Since Babylonian procedures were usually followed in the whole Diaspora, it became the practice of Jews almost everywhere outside the Land of Israel to offer their prayers for rain on the same dates as did their Babylonian coreligionists.[2]

This generalization did not go unchallenged, and the most noteworthy attempt to alter the practice was made by Rabbeinu Asher ben Yehiel (Rosh, c. 1250-1328). He tried to establish the principle that each Jewish community would pray for rain when they actually needed it in their country; this attempt was rebuffed by his contemporaries. The Rosh’s failure to innovate a change in the practice, no matter how sensible it might have seemed, was a major reason why no one in the northern hemisphere ever again challenged the prevailing practice. Questions did arise, however, when Jews migrated to areas in the southern hemisphere, when the order of the seasons is reversed. Rabbinic opinion has usually held that the Babylonian pattern should be followed even when the local winter occurs during summer in Babylonia and vice versa. The result is that to this day, Jews throughout the Diaspora set their liturgical calendar in this regard according to the agricultural needs of Iraq, a country which is now almost devoid of Jews.[3]

But why December 4? The Talmud says “the sixtieth day of the autumnal equinox,” and the autumnal equinox this year fell on September 23, 2007, at 5:51 AM, on the American eastern seaboard, making the sixtieth day on November 21.[4] The answer to this question is to be found in a miscalculation of the length of the year. Present-day astronomers calculate the mean solar year to be 365.2422 days (365 days, 5 hours, 48 minutes and 46 seconds). This is slightly shorter than the 365.25 days (365 days, 6 hours) assumed by Samuel, the third century amora and astronomer, who gave the rules for calculating the equinoxes and solstices (Eruvin 56a). This is the same assumption which is at the basis of the Julian calendar as well.

The discrepancy between the assumed length of the year and actual length may not seem like much; it is only .0078 days (11 minutes, 14 seconds) a year. Yet, over a period of a thousand years, a difference of 7.8 days (1000 x .0078) exists between a system based on assumed length (the Julian calendar or Samuel’s tequfot) and one based on actual length. It is this difference which led the Catholic Church under Pope Gregory XIII to correct the Julian calendar by dropping 10 days in 1582 (the day after Thursday, October 4 became Friday, October 15), thus creating the Gregorian calendar. To prevent further problems, three leap years were eliminated every 400 years, so that only century years divisible by 400 were leap years. This system, which eventually caught on in the whole world, is not perfect, since in 3300 years another one day discrepancy accumulates.

In Samuel’s calculation, however, there are exactly 365 ¼ days in a year, and each tequfah (solstice or equinox) lasts exactly 91 days and 7 ½ hours (despite the disparate lengths of the various seasons). One autumnal equinox (tequfat tishrei) falls exactly 365 ¼ days after the previous one. Samuel’s calculation has kept in step with the Julian calendar throughout the centuries, and, therefore, just as in Samuel’s time tequfat tishrei fell on the Julian September 24, so, too, today it invariably falls on that date. In this century, however, the Julian September 24 is the Gregorian October 7. The sixtieth day after October 7 is December 5, and one generally begins saying tal u-matar in the Maariv before December 5, namely on December 4.

So why is this year different from all other years, or at least the last three years? This is a function of the exact hour when the equinox falls. Although it is always on October 7, in a four year cycle the tequfah will come at 03:00, 09:00, 15:00 and 21:00 (check your synagogue luah for the times). The fourth year is always a Hebrew year divisible by four (5768), or the year before a civil leap year (2008); in that year, tequfat tishrei is after dark (21:00) and, therefore, it is considered the next day (October 8). Fifty-nine days later is December 6 and tal u-matar begins in Maariv of December 5. Since the coming civil year adds an additional day, next year’s calculated autumnal equinox will again fall on October 7 at 03:00, and tal u-matar will again begin in Maariv of December 4. In the nineteenth century, the prayer for rain began in Maariv of December 3 or 4; since 1900 was not a leap year, it jumped to December 4 or 5 in the twentieth century. 2100 will also not be a leap year, and in the twenty-second century, tal u-matar will begin in Maariv of December 5 or 6. Given enough time, and no calendrical reform, eventually Jews outside Israel will start praying for rain only on the eve of Passover, just in time to stop this prayer when Passover begins.[5]

A few observations can be added to this description of the beginning time of the prayer for rain in the Diaspora. First, the same miscalculation which causes the “sixtieth day of the autumnal equinox” to move forward vis-à-vis the sun is at the base of another Jewish ritual, the once in 28 years “Blessing of the Sun” (Birkat ha-Hammah), scheduled to occur again in one year and five months on Wednesday, April 8, 2009 (coincidentally, fourteenth of Nisan, the eve of Passover; the last time was on Wednesday, April 8, 1981). In the nineteenth century, the Blessing of the Sun occurred on Wednesday, April 7, every 28 years; in the twenty-second century it will be on Wednesday, April 9, every 28 years. Despite the fact that the Blessing commemorates the cyclical repetition of the first vernal equinox at creation, it now falls 18 days after the actual astronomical equinox.

Furthermore, it is clear from the sources that each Jewish community is actually praying for rain for its own needs, and not for rain in the Land of Israel. Nevertheless, many Jews, even relatively knowledgeable ones, think that adding tal u-matar to the prayers on December 5 marks the beginning of the rainy season in Israel, not realizing that she’elat geshamim had already begun in Israel on the seventh of Marheshvan. Perhaps one of the sources of this widespread misconception is the fact that the astronomical sixtieth day of the equinox has meaning only for Iraq, if even there, and the calculated sixtieth day has no meaning anywhere. Thus, when Jews in the Diaspora start praying for rain on December 4, they mistakenly think that they are doing so for the residents of the Land of Israel.

Perhaps their prayers are still valuable. From my experience, often November is a dry month in Israel, and the winds pick up and the rain starts falling only in the first week of December. The sages tell us that the reason Israel has distinct wet and dry seasons and is so dependent upon rainfall (as compared to Egypt; cf. Deut. 11:10-12) is that God delights in hearing the prayers of the righteous who turn to Him in supplication for rain. Perhaps, the beginning of serious rain in the Land of Israel at the beginning of December, just as the prayer for rain starts in the Diaspora, is a sign that God actually delights in the prayers of the ignoramuses, who believe that their supplications for rain at that time are directed for the good of the Jews in the Land of Israel, not realizing that their prayers should be intended to bring rain to their own countries of residence. Whatever the case, we wish along with the High Priest on Yom Kippur that this year in Israel will, indeed, be very wet and not too cold, and that the rain will be only for a blessing!

Notes:
[1] For a discussion of the Babylonian custom, and the reasons behind it, see Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Jewish Prayer for Rain in Babylonia,” Journal for the Study of Judaism in the Persian, Hellenistic and Roman Period 15 (1984): 124-144.
[2] In the words of the commentary attributed to Rashi on Ta’anit 10a: “Thus we act since all our customs follow the Babylonians (kol minhageinu ahar benei bavel).”
[3] For a fuller description of the long process described in these few sentences, see Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Jewish Prayer for Rain in the Post-Talmudic Diaspora,” AJS Review 9:2 (Fall 1984): 141-174.
[4] The equinoxes and solstices fall at the same instant all around the world, so in Israel, the autumnal equinox was at 12:51 PM; in Hawaii, at 12:51 AM; all times are daylight savings times.
[5] Details can be found in Arnold A. Lasker and Daniel J. Lasker, “The Strange Case of December 4: A Liturgical Problem,” Conservative Judaism 38:1 (Fall 1985): 91-99.

Teffilah Zakah:
History of a Controversial Prayer*

Yom Kippur has many unique prayers, many of them have been added through the centuries. For instance, R. Hayyim Yosef Dovid Azulai (Hida) has a longer viduy. Another such addition is the prayer known as Teffilah Zakah. In this prayer the person enumerates and connects their various sins with various acts and asks for forgiveness. Additionally, the person forgives any who have caused them pain or harmed them. This prayer was popularized by R. Avraham Danzig, in his Hayye Adam.

There are two reasons offered for reciting this prayer. Dr. Sperber opines (Minhagei Yisrael, vol. 2, p. 37 and esp. n.10) that the purpose of this prayer is to fulfill the opinion of the Ramban who holds that is an additional viduy on directly prior to Kol Nedrei on Erev Yom Kippur. (He offers that either Teffilah Zakah or a piyyut from R. Abraham ibn Ezra, fulfills this purpose). R. Abraham Ashkenazi (Brit Abraham, Warsaw, 1884, no. 129) offers a different reason for Teffilah Zakah. The purpose according to him, is to accept Yom Kippur early. At the end of Teffilah Zakah, one voices that they are accepting “kedushas Yom Kippurim.” In fact, R. Ashkenazi holds that for the purposes of fulfilling the opinion of the Ramban Teffilah Zakah would be insufficient as it differs significantly from the standard viduy. R. Ashkenazi, however, also holds that one should fulfill the Ramban’s opinion and thus recite the regular viduy after Teffilah Zakkah. (Surprisingly, Dr. Sperber doesn’t discuss R. Ashkenazi’s concern).

As mentioned above, Teffilah Zakah has a passage where one forgives others who may have sinned against him. This is necessary, as although Yom Kippur takes care of sins between man and God, it can’t take care of sins between man and man. Thus, it is necessary for each to receive forgiveness from their fellowman to achieve full forgiveness. Teffilah Zakah is long, and this paragraph that forgives others, appears at the end. The Chofetz Chaim attempted to alleviate this problem “and contacted the printers to change the placement of this paragraph of Teffilah Zakah . That is, to place this later paragraph earlier in prayer, to place the paragraph where one forgives others in the middle or the beginning.” According to the Chofetz Chaim’s son, R. Areyeh Leib, some siddurim did in fact shift around the prayer. (Michtevei Chofetz Chaim, p. 21-2 no. 52; quoted in Sperber, Minhagei Yisrael, vol. 4, 274).

The source to popularize this prayer is the book Hayye Adam.[1] Hayye Adam was first published in 1809, then in 1819 (the discussion regarding Teffilah Zakah only appears in this second edition – and thus, perhaps should be called a mahdurah [2]), and the third edition in 1825 – it would be this third edition that would be used for subsequent printing. [3] And, thereafter there was a flood of reprints – by 1960, Hayye Adam had been published at least 103 times (!) – a very popular book by any measure. While the book was reprinted on many occasions there were slight changes (some for the worse – there were many printing errors that crept in). As relevant to our discussion, in some editions, the portion discussing Teffilah Zakah changed as well.[4] The source that R. Danzig lists for Teffilah Zakah (klall 144), is the Sefer Hemdat Yamim. [5] In light of the fact that Hemdat Yamim is controversial in some editions of the Hayye Adam they removed words “Hemdat Yamim” so as not to have that as the source for this prayer.[6] Not all publishers dealt with the mention of Hemdat Yamim in the same manner. The full passage, as per the second edition of the Hayye Adam (see above – this is the first time this prayer appears in the Hayye Adam):

In the Zolkeiv(1838) edition the words “וכבר נדפס בחמדת הימים” are missing (this makes the next clause – “but not everyone understands those words” and “those words will be like a closed book” unintelligible); while in the Vilna (1849) edition only the words

and the rest of the paragraph explaining why R. Danzig was required to create a new prayer in a “simple language” doesn’t appear. In the Vilna (1895) edition they have as follows:

The twin factors [7] of the use of a suspect work, Hemdat Yamim, and the creation of a new prayer, made some hesitant to adopt Teffilah Zakah. In the Tosefot Hayyim, a commentary on the Hayye Adam written by R. Meshulum Finkelstein, [8] deals with both of these issues and defends the recitation of Teffilah Zakah (klall 144 n.31). First, he alleges the prayer is not the same as that in Hemdat Yamim.[9] Second, he argues that the concern of saying a later prayer – this concern is attributed to the AriZal and is why, according to some the Yigdal prayer is not recited in some circles – is applicable to “yehidei segulah” (special people) and not to the masses. This is demonstrated by the many piyyutim we recite which are later than the cut-off date for prayers (R. Eliezer HaKalir – whenever he may have lived). Additionally, according to some, any prayer that has been accepted by the masses, this concern is not applicable.[10]

What is worthwhile mentioning is that R. Danzig is not the only talmid HaGra to use the Hemdat Yamim. He is also not the only talmid HaGra to have his work censored for such an inclusion. R. Eliach (Avi HaYeshivos, pp. 184-186) notes that the talmidei HaGra had no problem using and praising the Hemdat Yamim. Aside from R. Danzig, R. Alexander Suesskind, author of the Yesod V’Soresh HaAvodah, in his Last Will and Testament he praises the study of Hemdat Yamim. In at least one edition of R. Suesskind’s Last Will and Testament, Tzavah Yesod V’Soresh HaAvodah, Jerusalem, 1955, the reference to the Hemdat Yamim was removed. Thus, on the one hand we have a group of people who had no issues using the Hemdat Yamim, while on the other hand, there is another group of people who wish to remove any such references.

Whatever the ultimate source of this prayer, there is no doubt that today, it is a popular one.

Notes

*The fullest discussion of this prayer can be found in Mordechai Meyer’s article “On ‘Teffilah Zakah'” in Kenishta, vol. 2 pp. 119-138 including the language above of the various editions of the Hayye Adam.

[1] According to R. Barukh haLevi Epstein, (Mekor Barukh, vol. 3 p. 1260 [end of chapter 21]), R. Danzig titled the book Hayye Adam to avoid any attempt to abridge it as it would then be titled Kitzur Hayye Adam (Shortening the Life of Man). If this is true, it appears it did not help as in 1854 an abridged version was published although the title was Kitzur M’Sefer Hayye Adam (An Abridgement of the Work Hayye Adam). Interestingly, R. Y.S. Nathenson refers to the Sefer Hayye Adam as Kitzur Hayye Adam. Shu”t Shoel u’Meshiv, vol. 2 no. 14 (it is unclear whether there should be a Hey prior to Hayye Adam that would have R. Nathenson as merely listing the Sefer Hayye Adam as an abridgment and the “kitzur” part would not be part of the title.)

[2] For the use of this term “mahdurah” and when it should be applied and more specifically should this second edition of the Hayye Adam should be deemed a mahdurah m’Tukenet or mahdurah Sheneiah, see Y.S. Speigel, Amudim b’Toldot Sefer HaIvri: Kitveah v’Hatakah, Ramat Gan, 2005, 109-60.

[3] Teffilah Zakah was published separately numerous times under the title Teffilah Zakah (it was here it seems the usage of Teffilah Zakah became popular – R. Danzig never refers to it as Teffilah Zakah). The first time it was published was in Minsk, 1833 (see Meir, supra, p. 122)(there is possibly one earlier print by a year or so, in Russia also around 1830 but this is not definite) and republished as a seperate prayer on numerous occasions (by 1900 it had been published close to 50 times). It was first incorporated into the Machzor in 1882 in the Romm edition of the Machzor. (Meir, p. 124) Although the title of Teffilah Zakah was well established as late as 1856 this prayer was published under the title Teffilah HaEtkah M’Sefer Hayye Adam and not Teffilah Zakah.

[4] While the exact nusach of Teffilah Zakah does not appear in Hemdat Yamim, much of it does (see notes below for more). There are those who claim that since the teffilah is not the same, thus, Teffilah Zakah doesn’t really come from Hemdat Yamin. This is wrong. First, R. Danzig states it does – so he had no problem with it. Second, even if it is not word for word, and R. Danzig “improved” on the one in Hemdat Yamim, at the very least the basis for it, and much of it does in fact come from Hemdat Yamim. But, it is unsurprising that people would go to great lengths to void Hemdat Yamim as the source for this popular prayer.

[4] The removal of the mention of Hemdat Yamim both here and in other cases (including the discussion below regarding R. Suesskind’s work) is discussed by R. S. Divlitsky, “HaShmotot Mahdirim,” in Taggim, 1 (1969), 76-77 [Ya’ari, in Talmuot Sefer, also mentions the change to the Hayye Adam see under index under Hayye Adam]. For other examples of removal or changes to various editions of the Hayye Adam see R. A.I. Goldroth, “Al HaSefer ‘Hayye Adam’ U’Mechbro,” in Sefer Margoliyos, Jerusalem, 1973, pp. 262-67 esp. n.1. For a discussion about Teffilah Zakah, as well as the Hayye Adam see R. E. Levin & M. I. Blau, “Teffilah Zakah,” in Mishpacha, Kulmus, Tishrei, 2008, 16-19; and Blau’s earlier article, “Al Sefer Hemdat Yamim,” in Kovetz Bet Ahron v’Yisrael, Nissan, 2004 (112), pp. 161-164.

[5] In the Zolikav, 1838, Vilna, 1849; Tchernowitz, 1864; editions the words Hemdat Yamim are cut out and instead, the line reads, “in the works of the AriZal” and then has Teffilah Zakah. This is not the only mention of Hemdat Yamim in Hayye Adam. When discussing (klall 145) what happens if one has a nocturnal emission on Yom Kippur the Hayye Adam again cites to the Hemdat Yamim. In some editions the words “Hemdat Yamim” are missing, in others, it is abbreviated (“ח”ה”), so only those “in the know” will be able to understand.

[6] There is a third concern raised by the former Pupa Rebbi, who notes that as Teffilah Zakah discusses inappropriate sexual behavior, one should avoid saying it as it may lead to improper thoughts about the possible improper behavior. See R. G. Zinner, Neta Gavreil, Hilchot Yom HaKippurim, Jerusalem, 2001, p. 185 n.4. For a list of those who did not say Teffilah Zakah, see Y. Mondshein, Otzar Minhagei Chabad, [Jerusalem], 1995, pp. 200-01. Among other reasons, a similar reason to the Pupa Rebbi is offered by the wife of the Tzemach Tzedek. Additionally, a entirely new reason is given – that Teffilah Zakah is actually a deficient or inadequate prayer. As it is so bad is why, perversly, it has become so popular because, it seems, people like junk. See id. at n.1 in the name of the Sefer Areyeh Sha’ag.
See also, R. T. Ohrenreich, Katseh haMateh, in Mateh Efrahim, no. 619:17 who offers other methods to fulfill the opinions who hold one must do a viduy prior to the onset of Yom Kippur in lieu of Teffilah Zakah.

[7] It was first published in the Warsaw, 1888 edition of the Hayye Adam. R. Finkelstein wrote not only a commentary on Hayye Adam but also on the Matteh Efrahim, Elef HaMogan, first published in Mateh Efrahim HaShalem, Pitrokov, 1908. He also published a collection of commentaries on the Mishna under the title Tosefot Hakhomim, Warsaw, 1916.

[8] See note 4 above. This justification is bizarre. First, as noted above, the Hayye Adam says he is using the Hemdat Yamim – so at the very least he had no problem if it was there. Second, there are entire passages that do appear in Hemdat Yamim. For instance, the Hemdat Yamim has using kissing the sefer Torah to fix various sins (p. 291 of Tzuriel ed. – all citations are to this edition). Or there is an extensive discussion about the inability to fix something that someone stole from someone else (p. 229-36). There is another list of sins that mimic that in Teffilah Zakah (p. 252-57).

[9] This reasoning appears somewhat circular in that how did the prayer get started if one is prohibited from saying it to begin with? Even if one assumes this is merely extending the concept of “im ain neviem, beni neviem hamah,” it doesn’t excuse the R. Danzig from advocating for something that is prohibited.

“Or Zarua la’tzadik – Light is sown for the righteous.” Each year, we begin our Yom Kippur prayers with these repeated, resounding words which Aruch Hashulchan tells us refer to “great matters that are beyond explanation.” If there is one evening of the entire Jewish year when we most seek the great, inexplicable light of God’s shechina, it is Yom Kippur eve. We enter the synagogue with great expectations, to feel close to the Divine, and to feel the warmth of His light and presence. As we say throughout the penitential season, Hashem ori ve’yishi – God is my light and salvation.

Below, we shall see that rabbinic literature prescribes the lighting of candles in the synagogue on Yom Kippur eve. We believe that, for many, reinstating this practice could enhance the spirituality of Yom Kippur eve.

The practice we seek to reinstate is neither the kindling of Yahrzeit candles, nor the lighting of candles lit by women at home on each Shabbat and Yom Tov evening, including Yom Kippur eve. Rather, it is a third practice – usually not seen here in the United States – that dates back nearly two millennia, to the Mishna. Let us consider the Misnha (Pesachim 4:4 in its entirety, which begins with the custom of candle lighting in the home:

A place where they have practiced to kindle the light on Yom Kippur eves – they kindle.
A place where they have practiced not to kindle – they do not kindle.

The Tosefta and both the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds all explain that these differing practices regarding whether to kindle lights in private homes are both intended to prevent marital relations on the night of Yom Kippur, when that activity is forbidden. The custom to kindle was intended to remind a couple to refrain from marital relations on Yom Kippur eve by creating a lit setting in which such relations are forbidden by Talmudic law, and in which people would be naturally sexually reticent.[1] The custom not to light on Yom Kippur eve, on the other hand, was intended to diminish the husband’s desire for relations with his wife by eliminating the light which allows him to see her and thereby desire her.

Having considered differing practices regarding lighting in private homes, the Mishna goes on to discuss the uniform practice of lighting in public venues – the main focus of this post at the Seforim blog:

They kindle in synagogues, study halls, and dark alleyways, and near the ill.

The Tosefta (Pesachim 3:11) expands this list to include other public places such as inns, bathhouses, and restrooms (or, according to one interpretation, mikvaot.) The need to illuminate these various public locations is strictly practical: so people can see where they are going, what they are doing, do not trip, can relieve themselves, immerse themselves in a mikvah,[2] and the like. Since the above sources generally confine themselves to rules on halachic, not practical matters, the Jerusalem Talmud (Pesachim 4:4) explains that this last phrase of the Mishna teaches a halachic point, as well: namely, that even where kindling in private homes is forbidden, kindling in public venues is permitted since there is no concern for marital relations occurring in such settings.

The Mishna, Tosefta, and Talmuds, then, note the uniform practice of kindling lights in synagogues and study halls on Yom Kippur eve. It is a practical matter, whose halachic background relates to the specific issue of the prohibition of marital relations on Yom Kippur. This was true beyond the Talmudic period, as well. R. Eliezer b. R. Yoel HaLevi in Sefer Ravyah (section 528) states explicitly that his community did follow the Talmudic custom to kindle lights in synagogues and study halls, relating this kindling to the Talmudic concerns.[3]

The halachic works of French Jewry, however, invest the kindling of lights on Yom Kippur with symbolic, ritual, and mandatory meanings. In 11th Century France, for example, Machzor Vitri (Seder shel Yom Hakippurim) describes the formal minhag in his community to kindle lights on Yom Kippur, and provides a Midrashic basis for this custom [the Machzor Vitri also records that the Geonim followed this custom as well]. The Midrash (Tanchuma YaShan 24, P. Emor) asserts that God does not require the mitzvoth of Man, and that the light of the menorah in the Temple is therefore for Man’s benefit – to protect him – and not for God’s benefit. Similarly, since Proverbs 20:27 likens a person’s soul to a candle, Machzor Vitri concludes that kindling lights on Yom Kippur protects. Machzor Vitri, however, does not detail that protection or how it connects to Yom Kippur.

In 13th Century France, Rosh (Yoma 8:9) also recognizes this minhag, indicating that an abundance of candles were typically lit in synagogues. Unlike Machzor Vitri, however, Rosh places this custom into a broader and more familiar halachic framework, namely, kavod Yom Tov. To do so, he begins by citing the Talmud’s requirement (b. Shabbat 119a) to wear clean clothes on Yom Kippur to honor the day in the absence of food and drink through which one honors other holidays.Then, he cites Targum Yonaton to Isaiah 24:15 to show that kindling lights is a form of honoring God. Therefore, he concludes, “yesh le’chavdo (one should honor it)” through all means considered to be honor. For Rosh, kindling lights on Yom Kippur eve fulfills this halachic requirement to honor the day. Rosh’s son, the author of the Arba’ah Turim, follows the approach of his father in this area.

Kol Bo (early 14th Century France and Spain)(sec. 68) introduces two further practical considerations favoring this kindling. First, the recitation of the less familiar Yom Kippur prayers “all day and night” necessitates lighting candles in synagogues. Second, such a candle can be used to fulfill the special halachic requirement of ner she’shavat for the havdalah candle used at the close of Yom Kippur.

Rosh’s immediate contemporary,R. Mordechai b. Hillel Ashkenazi in his Mordechai, (comment #723 to b. Yoma) provides an entirely different basis for this kindling.17 As we shall see, his rationale will take us far away from the issues of honoring Yom Tov and the practical considerations we have seen so far. It is noteworthy that Mordechai prefaces his novel explanation by stating his conscious intent to strengthen this minhag. As we shall see, Mordechai succeeded in this regard, perhaps beyond his own expectations.

Mordechai begins by quoting a statement from the Talmud (b. Horiot 12a, b. Kritut 5b) indicating that if one wants to see if he will live out the year, he should light a candle and place it in a windless room from Rosh Hashana until Yom Kippur. If the flame lasts, then he will live out the year. (Below we will discuss this practice in light of the Torah prohibition of nichush (divination).) Mordechai rules that “in our time, the practice is to kindle a candle on Yom Kippur for every person since it is the gmar din (the final day of judgment).” Apparently, Mordechai means that, since Jews in his time no longer lit candles during the entire period of judgment from Rosh Hashana to Yom Kippur, we symbolically include that entire time period by lighting a candle at its close, on Yom Kippur.

In late 14th Century Germany, R. Yaakov Moelin in Maharil (Hilchot erev Yom Kippur) cites Mordechai, suggesting that the lighting is a personal obligation that symbolizes the soul of man standing before God on the day of judgment, Yom Kippur. He also notes that the practice was for only men and boys to light but not women or girls, providing a number of homiletic and halachic suggestions for why this might be so. The simplest of them is that a married woman fulfills her obligation through her husband’s lighting. Maharil’s student Mahariv (Responsa Mahiri Weil 192) also elaborates on these matters, and prohibits the then common practice of instructing a gentile to rekindle one’s candle that went out on Yom Kippur.

How are the differing traditions of Rosh and Mordechai reflected in the voices found in the standard code of Jewish Law, Shulchan Aruch? R. Yosef Karo cites Mordechai’s approach in his Beit Yosef, but his final codification in Shulchan Aruch reflects the tradition of Rosh; i.e., there should be lights in the synagogue and elsewhere, not that there is an individual obligation to kindle such lights.

In his glosses to the Beit Yosef and the Shulchan Aruch, however, Rema (R. Moshe Isserles) codifies the approach of Mordechai, mandating an individual lighting. As he does so, he adds further stringencies to this kindling. For example, Rema rules that if one’s light is extinguished on Yom Kippur, one must relight it at the conclusion of Yom Kippur and allow it to burn down completely. Similarly, although one whose light burned throughout Yom Kippur could extinguish it out at the end of Yom Kippur, one whose candle went out during Yom Kippur must accept upon himself that neither he nor others will ever extinguish his candle at the end of Yom Kippur. Apparently, these build upon an implication of Mordechai’s Talmudic source; namely, that it is a bad sign if one’s candle goes out on Yom Kippur.

A century later, R. Mordecahi b. Abraham Jaffe in his Levush accepts these rulings of Rema, and adds a further stringency based upon the reasoning of Machzor Vitry. First, he sharpens Machzor Vitry’s reason of “protection” by indicating that the Yom Kippur eve light kindled in the synagogue atones for the soul of the one who lights it. Therefore, he (and subsequent authorities, as well) prohibits lighting a candle for a meshumad (an apostate) so that his soul cannot gain an atonement which it does not deserve.

These varied codifications of the practice to light candles in the synagogue by Tur, Beit Yosef, Shulchan Aruch, Rema, and Levush both reflected and contributed to its spread to all of world Jewry. Indeed, in his comments to the Shulchan Aruch, Magen Avraham notes that concerns about fire safety had prompted a widespread practice to hire a Gentile to guard the synagogue throughout the night of Yom Kippur. That, in turn, prompted him to decry infractions of the regulations pertaining to what such a Gentile may be instructed to do in the context of the laws of Yom Kippur.

So far, then, we have seen at least six separate reasons to kindle candles on Yom Kippur eve in the synagogue (in addition to Yahrzeit and Yom Tov candles lit at home): to protect (Machzor Vitri) or gain atonement (Levush); to fulfill the halachic obligation to honor Yom Kippur day (Rosh); to dramatize the final judgment for the forthcoming year that is given for each person on Yom Kippur (Mordechai); and to address practical issues of having a ner sh’shavat and to provide adequate illumination for the extended, unfamiliar nighttime prayers of Yom Kippur (Kol Bo).

Before continuing to follow this practice’s further development, let us return to a problem in Mordechai’s Talmudic source. It indicated that if one lights a candle at Rosh Hashana time which remains lit until Yom Kippur, then this is a sign that one will live out the year. In his comments to Horiot 12b, Maharasha (16th C) states the problem succinctly: “This practice is apparently forbidden by the prohibition of ‘You must not practice divination’ (Vayikra 19:26). For what reason is this [and other similar practices mentioned in the Talmud] permitted…?”

Maharsha’s answer is that this practice of lighting is permitted because it is an act symbolizing one’s hope for a future good (a siman tov) which does not imply the inverse belief that the absence of that sign will negatively affect the future with certainty. Correspondingly, the Talmud only states the positive sign of the candle remaining lit but does not mention the significance of its going out.

However, the widespread popularity of Mordechai’s approach as well as its intensification over time through the successive stringent rulings of Rema, Levush, and others, created a corresponding intensity about this matter in the minds of Jews. Apparently, the Jewish masses did not maintain Maharsha’s caution about the non-significance of their light going out. Put simply, it appears that ordinary people considered this flame to bear a heavenly sent message regarding their very lives in the forthcoming year. If their flame was extinguished before the end of Yom Kippur, then this implied they would not live out the year. Aruch Hashulchan (OC 610:6) and Mishna Berura (OC 610:14), for example, both write that the Jewish masses were distraught if their candle went out on Yom Kippur. As a result, what was a theoretical problem for Maharsha became a practical problem for these later halachic authorities.

They address this problem in three distinct ways. First, they provide practical ways to avoid seeing whether one’s light goes out. Aruch Hashulchan suggests lighting one’s candle amidst those of others so that one’s own candle is no longer specifically identifiable. (OC 610:6) Similarly, Mishna Berura suggests having a shul representative light all the candles so that people cannot identify their own candle. Second, while still encouraging individuals to light their candles, Aruch Hashulchan exhorts the people to be “whole with your God,” and that “it is not becoming for the Holy People [of Israel] to walk in the ways of divination.”

Finally, Aruch Hashulchan also extends the reasoning of Rosh, writing that the lights are not only to honor the day of Yom Kippur, but that “the practice is to honor the King with great lights and this, indeed, is the practice of all Israel, to multiply lights to honor this holy day…in all of the rooms of one’s home, in synagogues, in study halls, in dark alleyways, near the ill, in order that the light should be great and found in all places…”

It is clear, then, the preponderance of standard halachic works from the Mishna to the Mishna Berura consider the kindling of candles on Yom Kippur in the synagogue to be the standard, widely practiced, custom. Mateh Ephraim even records its Yiddish moniker, dos gezunteh licht – the light of health and well-being (603:8). And yet in America, this practice has fallen by the wayside.[4] Where did it go? We don’t know for sure. We can conjecture that electric lighting and fire safety concerns in American synagogues displaced it.

We believe that the rabbis and synagogue lay leaders should consider reintroducing this beautiful practice to their sanctuaries. This is opportunity for even the most traditional synagogue to do something new and unexpected that is, at the same time, an ancient tradition of our people, practiced for millennia across all the lands of our dispersion. A synagogue already adorned with a white parochet, white kittels and white talitot can now be aglow with the flames of candles lit by each and every member of the synagogue. This will create a unique setting of purity and awe that is conducive to prayer, introspection, and distinct holiness of Yom Kippur itself. [5]

Notes
[1] Interestingly, this reasoning assumes that the prohibition to have marital relations by candlelight was more widely known and observed by the people then the prohibition of marital relations of Yom Kippur itself.

[2] According to some opinions, a ba’al keri was permitted to immerse himself on Yom Kippur, despite the general prohibition to wash or immerse oneself on Yom Kippur.

[3] It is worth noting Rambam, (Hilchot Shvitat Asur, 3:10) for example, codifies these Talmudic sources and mentions the two varying practices regarding kindling in one’s house, but entirely omits discussion of kindling in all public venues. Magid Mishneh (explains Rambam’s omission in a manner similar to the Jerusalem Talmud’s comment (above), noting that the practice not to kindle in private venues never extended to public ones since couples are not secluded there.

Similarly, writing in Vienna at the turn of 13th Century, Or Zarua elaborates at great length upon many familiar minhagim of Yom Kippur eve, yet entirely omits mention of kindling lights in synagogues.

[4] We have seen a practice in some American synagogues that seems related to the tradition we have delineated; i.e., women light their Yom Tov candles for Yom Kippur in synagogue, instead of at home. There are many reasons, however, why this is not the lighting we are advocating. First, since the days of Maharil, only men have done the lighting we describe, but not women. Second, these women are reciting the blessing for Yom Tov kindling over these candles. Unlike most other Shabbat and Yom Tov evenings, women on Yom Kippur are not at home but rather in synagogue. It would seem, then, that they light where they will be while their candles are lit. Indeed, they may feel it unsafe to leave unattended candles lit at home.

[5] Here are some recommendations for those interested in introducing this practice to their synagogues:

*Dim the electric lighting for Yom Kippur eve if technically possible.
*Each synagogue will need to think creatively about how to arrange the candles to be light, given the layout of its sanctuary. Note that a wide variety of candle holding devices are available for sale today through the Internet and other venues.
*In keeping with the ruling of R. Yosef Karo, candles can be arranged without any correspondence to the number of individuals or families in the synagogue.
*Alternately, in keeping with Ashkenazic tradition, lighting can be done by each individual man on behalf of himself and his family. Women, too, can light their own candle if they wish29. It will be necessary in advance of the holiday to encourage those who will be lighting of the need to participate in this practice. Presumably, this could be done by a letter, a class, at the time of ticket distribution, or in other ways. To accommodate the concern first articulated by Maharil, time would also need to be scheduled for people to do this in an orderly and safe manner prior to the onset of Yom Tov. Coming to synagogue earlier might also encourage congregants to enter Yom Kippur in a more reflective manner, recite tefillah zaka, etc.
*Of course, as Magen Avraham pointed out, each synagogue will need to attend to fire safety concerns within the confines of halacha, as well.

[Ed. note – For Additional Reading: for more on the custom of lighting candles on Yom Kippur, see R. Y. Goldhvaer’s Minhagei HaKehilot, Jerusalem, 2005, 88-96, available here (PDF)]

* Aaron Goldscheider serves as the Rabbi of the historic Mount Kisco Hebrew Congregation in N. Westchester, NY.
Barry Kornblau serves as rabbi of the Young Israel of Hollis Hills-Windsor Park, and the Director of Committees and Operations at the Rabbinical Council of America.

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