What color was Rashi's shirt? Who said it and why?

This will be my third post on the theme of "what color was Rashi's shirt" (here's the first). The motif goes something like this: "Academic historians of Judaism may know what clothing Rashi wore, but traditional scholars know what he taught."

Earlier I had quoted two versions. One deals with the color of Rashi's shirt, and the other with the brand of tobacco he smoked (and I playfully noted that the answer could only be none, since tobacco is an American crop and was unknown in Europe until 400 years after Rashi lived). Read the first post for the quotes, or the appendix at the very end where I include many versions.

I am particularly interested in the attribution of the saying to Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger (1798-1871). Rabbi Aharon Rakeffet-Rothkoff (nee Arnold Rothkoff) paraphrased the saying twice. The first was in his 1967 doctoral dissertation Vision and Realization: Bernard Revel and His Era; the second was in the book version, 1972's Bernard Revel: Builder of American Jewish orthodoxy. There is slight difference in language. Evidently the second version, quoted in the other posts, was a result of language beautification for its publication in book form. But these differences don't matter, as both are a paraphrase and convey the identical impression. But more importantly, only in the dissertation is his source for the statement given:



That is, he heard it in BMG, the Lakewood Yeshiva, in 1955. It is one of those things "they say," an oral tradition.

It isn't mentioned at all in Dr. Judith Bleich's 1974 dissertation Jacob Ettlinger , His Life and Works: The Emergence of Modern Orthodoxy in Germany. This doesn't mean that it's not an authentic oral tradition. Perhaps it was too folksy for her to mention, or maybe she just hadn't heard it. She never learned in Lakewood, after all. Still, one would assume that if it is an authentic quote than at least an echo of it would be found in her discussion of R. Ettlinger's periodical the Der Treue Zionwachter with its Hebrew supplement the שומר ציון הנאמן, for this periodical was founded because the German periodical literature of the time was published by Reformers, and contained polemical material in both its German and Hebrew pages. Although the traditional scholarship published in its pages was clearly an implicit criticism of the Wissenschaft work of Zunz and the like, the sort of attitude expressed by the quip we're discussing was apparently not found in its pages. Apparently what shirt Rashi wore or what tobacco he smoked had nothing to do with Reform. In fact, Bleich notes (pp. 7-75) that R. Ettlinger himself was involved in "the scientific study of texts and in the scholarly research of his time." He played a leading role in the printing of unpublished texts, and was interested in establishing correct and accurate texts, c.f., the introduction to Aruch La-ner on Niddah where he expressed amazement that some rabbis neglected such matters:



She further notes that Responsum #60 in Binyan Zion attempts at length to verify the authenticity of a recently published volume of responsa attributed to Rashi, concluding that the first twelve were indeed written by Rashi, while the rest were actually written to Rashi by one of his teachers. In addition, he reiterated the importance he attached to textual accuracy in the haskamah he wrote for the work of Rabbinowicz, included at the beginning of the first volume of Dikduke Soferim:



In 1856 a commentary of Rabbi Hai Gaon on Taharot was published (link), and it contained corrections and notes from R. Ettlinger (although he writes that he will only call attention to errors with written support for an emendation, but he will not give conjectural emendations).



In addition, he himself published many manuscripts in שומר ציון הנאמן. The periodical also included many other articles of a scholarly, textual character. For example, it featured analytical articles on the Targum Pseudo-Jonathan, Biblical commentaries like updates to R. Mecklenburg's Ha-kesav ve-ha-Kabbalah (included in its 2nd edition) and liturgical topics, as well as publications of materials found in the Hamburg Library. In addition, the magazine promoted the study of Hebrew and published Hebrew belles lettres. An article on dikduk by Salmon Dubno appeared in its pages.

This means that he was involved in critical scholarship at a very high level. But all of this, of course, does not actually show in any way that he related to Wissenschaft des Judentums or would not have been critical of Zunz and his work. The scholarly approach and publications he was involved in surely were a departure from the usual kind of traditional scholarship (to which in fact Jewish Wissenschaft arose partly in opposition), but they are certainly not solely an invention of the 19th century (while they are very characteristic of the time). In fact, it has been pointed out by Mordechai Breuer (Modernity Within Tradition) and doubtlessly by others that there was a sort of Ashkenazic quasi-tradition of critical textual scholarship of this kind. He lists 18th century luminaries like Rabbi David Frankel and R. Isaiah Berlin Pick, as well as grammarians like Wolf Heidenheim, and the scholarly production of Yehoseph Schwarz. Such a critical tradition existed, although it ran against the currents of the mainstream and, I might, add we should bear in mind that 19th century examplars of this approach like R. Ettlinger and Yehoseph Schwarz were university educated.

In fact one could almost make the (speculative) case that it actually supports the notion that this was Rabbi Ettlinger's sentiment, since in fact Zunz's style actually was to largely clarify historical matters relating to and about Rashi and other figures rather than to explicate their words. He was a historian, not a commentator. For example, Zunz wrote a justly famous article clarifying the matter of Rashi's name, the history of "Jarchi" and so forth. Although we can justly describe R. Ettlinger as having a critical historical sense and incorporating it into his scholarship, he was certainly a traditional Torah scholar and not a historian of Jewish literature, like Zunz.

I would be remiss here if I did not mention R. Ettlinger's haskamah to Wessely's commentary on Bereshis, published by his son Salomon Naphtali Wessely in Hamburg in1842, with the title of עוללות נפתלי. Unfortunately I can no longer supply a link to this fine commentary approved of by great gedolim of unimpeachable reputation because this book was purged this very week from you-know-where.

Here is the approbation:



Incidentally, the genesis of Wessely's commentary (no pun intended) lay in a period in 1778 when he was out of work after his employer liquidated the business without bothering to help him find other work. Friends set up public lectures for him two or three times a week as a source of income. His topic was the first chapters of Genesis. Sadly the lecture series which had garnered an overwhelming response in the beginning gradually dwindled, it is surmised, because his approach was traditional and didn't deal with modern (ie, 18th century) Bible scholarship.

Since we're on the topic, in the pages of the aforementioned שומר ציון הנאמן, the rabbi of Wuerzburg, Rabbi Seligmann Baer Bamberger, wrote the following:



(Of course this is a composite image; my intention is simply to show the beginning of his piece with how he refers to Wessely with זללה"ה. I would think he was headed for the other place if he was so bad that his books are worthy of purging. If you wish to locate the entire article, it is in the 27 Kislev 1848 issue #65 pp. 130-1.)

Here seems like a good place to post the Wuerzburger rabbi's criticism of Samuel David Luzzatto (Halevanon #2.22 1865). The background is that Shadal died, and the Levanon featured words of eulogy in several issues by Senior Sachs which depicted him as a great gaon and tzaddik. Rabbi Bamberger was of the opinion that he was neither of these, but a heretic. So in the interest of truth he felt obligated to reply and noted 7 examples of things that were totally unacceptable in his abbreviated Torah commentary Hamishtadel (Vienna, 1847). Please note, the link is to the book version of Hamishtadel. It was first printed as an appendix to the Vienna edition of Mendelssohn's Biur, and this is the version that R. Seligmann Baer Bamberger actually refers to.

An example of what he was objecting to, and then his letter:






Incidentally, I think it's fair to say that he wrote with restraint, and one cannot but agree that he was sincerely motivated to speak the truth as he saw it. In my opinion this is a model for how a rabbi should speak up against views he feels are contrary to the tradition. Nowhere does he cry צא טמא or call anyone an אפיקורוס. In fact he says that he's speaking out only so that no one should say that the rabbis' silence [in a matter like this] indicates assent.

Shadal did not go undefended, for the next issue featured a response by S.J. Halberstamm:




It's worth noting that HaLevanon was what would we today call a Chareidi paper. In fact, today's Chareidim recall it as just that. Can anyone imagine such writers and such an exchange in today's Chareidi press?

Once we're on the topic, why leave it just yet?

Some months ago the עלים לתרופה, a Belzer parsha sheet widely distributed in Israel, Europe and the United States included in its biographical column יומא דנשמתא a biography of my favorite Victorian rabbi, הגאון הצדיק רבי נתן הכהן אדלר זצ"ל רב הקולל של לונדון-בעל נתינה לגר, Nathan Marcus Adler. His piety and scholarship should of course remain unquestioned (even if Rabbi Adler "pleads guilty to an occasional novel" [link]).

The article quotes Rabbi Adler that the Targum Onkelos was written by the proselyte "with wisdom, according to tradition, etc. . . but not like the view of some scholars who are of the view that the Targum was written for the plain people, and not the scholars. Actually it was written for all the people, plain and scholars alike . . ." This opinion is supported and demonstrated by Rabbi Adler in his commentary. The footnote in עלים לתרופה (correctly) notes that the opinion he meant to counter was Samuel David Luzzatto's in his Ohev Ger (Vienna 1830) that the Targum's primary audience was the plain people (הדיוטות) and not the scholars. Various consequences follow from the respective opinions. But the footnote must write a little editorial appelation which I am confident that Rabbi Adler would have been quite upset to read: בכך יצא חוצץ נגד המשכיל האיטלקי שד"ל שר"י שחיבר ביור משלו על תרגום אונקלוס בשם אוהב גר בו פוער פה כאילו התרגום נועד לפשוטי העם. The idea is presented here as if it's some grievous outrage, as opposed to a carefully reasoned scholarly hypothesis. Furthermore, Rabbi Adler's view is framed as a response to a grievous outrage, rather than a gentleman's disagreement on scholarly grounds. In fact Rabbi Adler had nothing but respect for Shadal. They were colleagues on the board of the Mekize Nirdamim Society:



It is difficult to see why he would sit on a board with a רשע, to publish seforim no less.

He refers perfectly respectfully to him many times in Nesinah Lager. In addition, he also published the Patshegen - Sefer Yaer commentary which had belonged to Shadal in the very volumes of the pentateuch which contained Nesina Lager. For example, in the introduction to the Patshegen he calls him החכם הגדול ר' שמואל דוד לוצאטו, nary a שר"י in sight:



This is not to say that if you think highly of someone you therefore accept every opinion they ever held. I am not taking this weekly Torah sheet to task for failing to agree with him in the totality of every detail he ever thought or spoke. However, I think it is a bit over the top to be so out of touch about the kind of person given the הגאון הצדיק treatment here. Sure, there is plenty of material where this image is drawn from in the person of the real Rabbi Adler. But a complete picture is lacking, and one wonders if הגאון הצדיק can survive the complete picture.

To fill in some more details of the complete picture:

On January 31, 1890 The Jewish Exponent printed the text of a shabbos derasha delivered by celebrated American rabbi Sabato Morais in tribute to "The Late Chief Rabbi Dr. N. M. Adler." Morais had himself spent many years in England. He related that at the time British Jewry was experiencing a painful schism, occasioned by reformers and cherems. This occurred in 1840. Some ("who had witnessed with deep sorrow the schism" "which deprived both the Ashkenazim and Sephardim of some of their most valuable members") had hoped that when Rabbi Adler was brought in to assume his post in 1845 that he could effect a reconciliation. This did not happen, as the acrimony was then very deep. Morais recalled that he himself was rebuked because he wrote a Hebrew elegy for "a Mr. Hananel de Castro," one "who had tried in vain to pacify angry spirits," such was the bitter feelings. Still, Rabbi Adler did reach out to the then rabbi-less Bevis Marks Synagogue of the Portuguese Sephardim, in an address delivered there on Parashas Beshalach in February of 1849. The purpose of this speech was to show that there was common ground and could be solidarity between the two communities:



That is, to show how the Ashkenazim and Sephardim are really brothers, he gave a laundry list of "You Sefardim have this, and we Ashkenazim have that." Listing luminaries, he orated that Sephardim had Maimonides, but Ashkenazim had Rashi. Ramban was Sepharadi, the Rosh was Ashkenazi. Menasseh ben Israel was Portuguese, and Mendelssohn was German.

In case anyone suspects that this is the faulty memory of a man writing 40 years later, below is how the sermon was recorded in the Jewish Chronicle in February of 1849:






So there you have it: הגאון הצדיק רבי נתן הכהן אדלר זצ"ל felt comfortable putting Rashi, the Rambam, R. Menashe ben Yisrael and Moses Mendelssohn in the same paragraph (it's unclear if he also mentioned the Ramban and the Rosh as Morais mentioned).

Getting back to what brand of tobacco Rashi smoked, I began with noting that the attribution of the quip to Rabbi Ettlinger was a remark that Rabbi Rakeffet heard in Lakewood in 1955.

In 1903 Gotthard Deutsch wrote an article about Solomon Munk on the occasion of the Centenary of his birth in the Yearbook of the Central Conference of American Rabbis. Deutsch excoriates Graetz's inability to "conceive a character in its historic setting," for which reason he wrote so bitterly about so many people. For example, he called David Friedlander a "Flachkopf," Mendelssohn's ape. Deutsch writes that Friedlander was not so bad, he just saw that the Judaism taught by contemporary rabbis like the Noda Beyehuda and Rabbi Raphal Kohen of Hamburg "could not survive in a cultured atmosphere," and this is the explanation for much of his venom. Friedlaender must be viewed in the contaxt of his time, and this explains some of his lack of temperance. Deutsch happens to be correct about Graetz generally, in my opinion.

Apparently Friedlander criticized someone who desired his son to have a secular and Talmudic education. Friedlander thought such a thing was ridiculous and impossible. Deutsch is of the opinion that no one back then had such a vision:

Of course Jacob Joseph Oettinger looks like Jacob Ettlinger - even the peculiar orthography can be explained (see here for some discussion about Ettlinger's surname) - but in fact they were two entirely separate people (even aside for the fact that the author of the Aruch Laner whom we have been discussing was named Yaakov Yukev, and not Yaakov Yosef). Rabbi Oettinger (1780-1860) was the last Chief Rabbi of Berlin (having taken the post in 1820). Here is what he looked like in 1840:



He was, for Germany at the time, a throwback to the past, a representative of what came to be seen as the Alt-orthodoxie, the kind of rabbi who could barely speak German (this in contrast with rabbis like Isaac Bernays, Samson Raphael Hirsch and others who would typify what came to be known as Neo Orthodoxy).

I could well imagine Rabbi Oettinger being shown a copy of Zunz's pioneering 1823 article about Rashi, Salomon ben Isak, Genannt Raschi in the first issue of the Zeitschrift für die Wissenschaft des Judenthums or even its 1840 Hebrew translation. Perhaps he was told that this is an impressive example of the new Jewish scholarship. After reading it one can imagine him saying "Zunz may know what brand of tobacco Rashi smoked, but I know what he said." But that's speculative, and besides, Rabbi Oettinger knew perfectly well who Leopold Zunz was, both living in Berlin. Below is a subscription sheet to an 1848 edition of Ibn Kaspi's commentary on the Moreh Nevukhim. Their names are in the column of Berlin subscribers:



But most importantly, Rabbi Oettinger was an actual opponent of Zunz. In 1834 he opposed the appointment of Zunz as rabbi of Darmstadt. He sent a letter to the community which was at least partly responsible for his not being hired:



Thus we have the most likely explanation for why Judith Bleich doesn't mention the tobacco/ shirt color quip in her dissertation about Rabbi Ettlinger. This is a case of mistaken identity. We might add our own aphorism about the Lakewood Yeshiva: "On the Main Line may know the difference between Oettinger and Ettlinger, but we know what the Aruch Laner says."

Incidentally, Rabbi Oettinger wrote a haskamah for the 5th volume of Dr. Jeremiah Heinemann's Chumash Mekor Chaim, that is, his edition of Mendelssohn's Chumash with Beur (link). This edition is probably most notable today because Rabbi Akiva Eger was a subscriber and maskim to the second volume, which is interesting because 'traditionally' it is the third volume - Wessely's Vayikra - that is kind of, sort of okay, and maybe the first volume - Salomon Dubno's Bereshis - but the second is mostly the production of Mendelssohn himself. Unfortunately this volume has not yet been digitized so I don't have the pictures to show Rabbi Akiva Eger's haskama and his name among the subscribers. However, here is R. Oettinger's approbation (co-signed with his junior co-rabbi on the Berlin Bet Din):



As an aside, Rabbi Oettinger's story furnishes some interesting facts. Whether or not the language he spoke should be called "Yiddish," it was the old German Jewish dialect (which was spoken by the vast majority of German Jews in 1780 when he was born), and definitely was not the German spoken by modern rabbis mid-century, Reform and Orthodox alike. It is told that people used to come to his sermons in the Great Synagogue of Berlin to laugh at the way he spoke. After 1845 there were three rabbis in Berlin, Rabbis Oettinger, Michael Sachs (1808-1860) and the aforementioned Elchanan Rosenstein. Rabbi Oettinger still spoke Yiddish, Rabbi Sachs spoke flawless German. Rabbi Rosenstein, it is said, aspired to speak High German but couldn't quite manage it, lapsing back into Yiddish. A joke popular at the time was "Dr. Sachs sagt; Reb Jeinkef Jossef sohgt; bei Reb Chone is nischt gesagt und nischt gesohgt."



That from Aron Hirsch Heymann's Lebenserinnerungen (1909). The same Heymann (1803-1880) - a major figure in Berlin Orthodoxy - describes the linguistic shift German Jews were undergoing in his childhood. He noted that the children didn't speak like their parents, but they also didn't speak like the Christians. Strangely, in certain respects they spoke more correctlly that the Christian children. He writes that the jewish children said "ja" (yes), the Christian children said "jo" and the Jewish parents said "jau."

The fact that Rabbi Oettinger did not speak German well did not, of course, mean that he never tried. The Jewish Encylopedia discusses reforms in the 1820s, and points out what I suspect is not widely realized today: religious reforms were not encouraged by the government (at least not in Prussia). Like most conservative autocratic governments, it supported the status quo, not religious ferment and what could conceivably devolve into revolutionary activity. Thus, it did not approve of Jewish reforms, and oftentimes anything that even seemed slightly reformist was deemed illegal. Discussing how German sermons were forbidden, the JE writes: "This regulation was so strictly carried out that when Rabbi Oettinger, at the dedication of the new cemetery in 1827, delivered an address in German, the police saw therein a forbidden innovation."

Steven Lowenstein, in an article in the LBIY called Two Silent Minorities, Orthodox Jews and Poor Jews in Berlin 1770-1823, notes that lack of observance was so rampant in Berlin in the 1820s that Rabbi Oettlinger used to leave weddings early, before the food was served, so as not to cause insult to those whose weddings which were not kosher.

There's probably a lot that can be said about his relationship with Michael Sachs, a former student and the aforementioned Berlin rabbi who preached in perfect High German (and a famous Wissenschafter whom Breuer counts as another Orthodox example of Germany's tradition of critical scholarship), but I'll leave that and other issues for now.

Finally, here is Rabbi Oettinger's signature in letter concerning the Alexandersohn affair, which also awaits another post. I admit that I didn't look closely and initially thought this was Rabbi Jacob Ettlinger!



Appendix: Various Versions of the Rashi Quip

1. "There was an interesting anecdote, about 150 years ago, when the Rabbinical Seminary in Breslau was founded and the news reached a very famous Rabbi, Rabbi Moshe Sofer, the Chatam Sofer as he is called. They told him about this new seminary where they were studying Rashi. He answered, "If you want to know what color shoelaces Rashi wore, you should go to that seminary, but if you want to know what Rashi really said, you have to come to the world of Yeshivos, to learn the text itself."

Manfred Lehmann "Rashi as grammarian and lexicographer" pg 437 in Rashi, 1040-1990: hommage à Ephraim E. Urbach ed. Gabrielle Sed-Rajna, 1993.

2. "The Rabbi entertains a certain contempt for the historian - who explains away rather than reconciles, and who is, evidently lacking in depth and subtlety. Said the celebrated Akiva Eger (at the end of the eighteenth century), "If you wish to know what kind of clothing Rashi wore, by all means ask Geiger. If you want to know what Rashi said and thought, ask me!"

Gerald Abrahams "The Jewish Mind" pg. 112, 1962.

3. [Wolfoshn's self-description as a "non-observant orthodox Jew] is not this rigid orthodoxy we find in Jacob Ettlinger;s famous dictum from the begin[ning - sic] of the 19th century; "If you want to know which tobacco Rashi smoked, ask Zunz. If you want to know what Rashi wrote, ask me."

Martin Ritter, "Scholarship as a Priestly Craft: Harry A. Wolfson on Tradition in a Secular Age" pg 454 in Jewish Studies Between the Disciplines (Judaistik Zwischen Den Disziplinen) : Papers in Honor of Peter Schafer on the Occasion of His 60th Birthday.

4. "In the words of Rabbi Dr. Ezriel Hildesheimer, the Rector of the great Orthodox Rabbinical Seminary of Berlin, "Jews are more interested in knowing what Rashi has to teach us than in knowing what were the color of the clothes Rashi wore."

Berel Wein, "Triumph of Survival: The Story of the Jews in the Modern Era 1650-1995" - Page 56.

5. "Zunz knows all the details of Rashi's life, what he did and where he lived and traveled; but I know what Rashi said and wrote."

Joseph L. Baron, "A Treasury of Jewish Quotations"‎ page 438, 1962. Unfortunately I could not see this inside but had to do with a truncated Google Book preview. This book includes sources for all quotations. If anyone has this book and can tell me what Joseph Baron's source is, I'd appreciate it. Edit: I saw the book, and I see his source. One word: Oettinger.

6. Even Salo Baron quotes it, again, I could not see his source, so please tell me if you have this book:"The reputed asssertion of an old-type rabbinic critic of Leopold Zunz's significant biography of Rashi that "if you want to learn when Rashi sneezed, you read Zunz, but if you desire to understand what Rashi really said, you better come to me!" was not completely unreasonable. If you desire to understand what Rashi really said, you better come to me!"

Salo Baron, "The contemporary relevance of history: a study in approaches and methods‎," - page 62, 1986.

****

There is little doubt in my mind that I will trace this quip further, and I am also expecting some good contributions in the comments, so stay tuned for a follow up.

Rabbi David Nieto's tribute to the quality of Early Modern Hebrew scholarship, and his opinion of the necessity of Jews being law-abiding.

In 1715 the Reverendo, e Doutissimo Haham Asalem Morenu David Netto (ר' דוד בן פנחס ניטו) published a booklet called אש דת directed against the Sabbatean missionary Nechemia Chiya Chayon (or Hayon; Hayyun, etc.). Chayon's theology was radically antinomian; he preached the abolition of the rites and commandments of Judaism, in fulfillment of his theology of sin (sinning would elevate the sparks of holiness and bring about the Messianic redemption). In addition, he advocated a kind of Trinity, which was naturally seen as totally derivative of Christianity, not to mention idolatrous.

This was a work of scholarship, hence it was written in Hebrew. However, Nieto also wished to reach his less learned congregants, so he published a version in Spanish called Es dat, ò, Fuego legal. The Spanish version contained a preface not included in the Hebrew. At the end of the preface he indicated that he had written a Spanish supplement which could be read by anyone who is interested: “Much more could I say of the pernicious consequences of this schism, but I omit it for very strong reasons; but not to deprive my people of what affects it so much, I reserve it in manuscript in my possession, and I offer it with affectionate interest to anyone who would like to read it or to translate it” (tran. by Israel Solomons). In other words, the supplement was meant for internal communal consumption, unlike a published book which could be bought and read by anyone.

The first historian to describe the supplement was the first one to locate it: Israel Solomons had located three existing manuscripts of the supplement, which he mentioned in his 1915 JHSE paper David Nieto and Some of His Contemporaries (published in volume 12 1928-31). He had bought one copy at an auction in 1912, another was in the Bodleian Library, and a third was in New York, having been bought by Richard Gottheil in Amsterdam at an auction in 1897.

In 1981 Raphael Loewe published the entire text in an article called 'The Spanish Supplement to Nieto's 'Esh Dath,' in PAAJR 48. The supplement, called Reflexiones Thelogicas Politicas, y Morales sobre el Execrable Systema de Nehemy'a Hiya' Hayon is divided into 14 sections.

Nieto tried to argue against Chayon's theology on several grounds, one of which is that the precarious situation of Europe's Jews absolutely required that they be totally law-abiding, including especially to their own religion. He was not incorrect in the notion that the European governments did not wish to see libertine Jews. Nieto argued that the Jewish presence in Europe was acknowledged on the premise that the Jews were living by a legal and moral code. Should Jews follow Chayon and permit that which is illegal, once this became known, what would become of the Jews? Nieto - writing for Jews, remember - reminds them of what money-lending led to in the Middle Ages: ""no se amotinaran contra nos como hizieron por los exorbitantes usuras que tomovamos dellos en Espana, Francia, Ynglaterra, Alemania e Ytalia. - Will not non-Jews be incited to antipathy against us, just as they were by the exorbitant interest which we exacted from them in Spain, France, England, Germany and Italy?" This is nothing short of amazing. The usual, not entirely incorrect, line is that Jews were driven to usury by being forbidden from other kinds of work. In fact one reason Jews were readmitted to England is because Rabbi Menasseh ben Israel tried that on Oliver Cromwell scarcely 60 years earlier - and it worked. Here Rabbi Nieto speaks to Jews and does not tell them that the persecution and expulsions came out of nowhere without provocation.

Nieto knew that in 1715 European Jews could only exist through delicate balance. The oath of a Jew, for example, was accepted in non-Jewish courts on the assumption that when a Jew swore on his Bible he meant it as seriously as a Christian swearing on his. Nieto thus argued that Chayon had to be repudiated on the grounds that acceptance of his doctrine would make Jews unfit to be a part of European civil society. He writes (Loewe's translation): "What, then, would [Christians] do to us should it come to their knowledge that we do not scruple to cheat them, and that we regard such conduct as not merely legally admissible but indeed obligatory and progitable? What opinion would they form of our character, promises and conscience? What profanation of God's name!"

(Loewe points out that Nieto does not mention the extremely degrading ceremony accompanying the oath more judaico which Jews were required to take in the German states and elsewhere.)

Below is the 11th section which is a very interesting acknowledgment of European attainments in scholarship, Hebrew and other kinds of linguistic accomplishments. Nieto argues that there is no such thing as an internal Hebrew conversation:



Loewe's translation is: "It is useless to pretend to ourselves that Hayon's book, being written in Hebrew, will not come to the notice of Christians. The nations of Europe are the most intellectually powerful in the world: no science, no art eludes them, no information conceals itself from them whatever the language or script in which it is written, no matter how ancient or abtruse."

Nieto then notes Latin translations of the Kuzari, the Guide for the Perplexed, the Kabbalah Denudata (see here), which includes translations of many Zoharic passages, as well as teachings of the Ari (whom he calls Rab Asquenazy). In addition, [parts of] the Mishneh Torah of Maimonides, the complete Mishnah, and several Talmudic tractates are available in Latin. [What's more] the translations are faithful to the original (ie, accurate) having compared them himself.

Nachum Sokolow's moving "obituary" for the Beis Midrash of his youth, 1906.

Nahum Sokolow describes the Beit Midrash in the Jewish Chronicle, August, 4, 1906. Since he was born in 1859, one assumes he is describing what it was like in the 1870s.

Accepting review copies of books and periodicals

If you would like your book or periodical reviewed, or at least publicized, on this blog, please email me.

Blogg's early 1830s History of Hebrew

Salomo Ephraim Blogg (1780-1858) was a teacher, Hebrew grammarian, liturgist and printer (see here for his Haggadah, Hanover 1836). (Pedants and bloggers will no doubt be interested to notice how in his particular German dialect, he spelled his surname "בלאך" as Blogg, according to Dutch orthography.)

One of his more interesting works was his בנין שלמה (Ædificium Salomonis), a history of the Hebrew language (1831). This work included an earlier work published in 1826, the קורות לשוננו הקדושה. Here is its title page:



This particular book has a wonderful subscription list consisting of "Professors, Preachers, Rabbis and Friends of Hebrew Literature." It is a normal subscription list, consisting of names arranged by place (Altona to Zellerfeld), however in addition to that, it includes occasional German and Hebrew notes to the author by subscriber. Below is one such sample:



Here we see the subscriptions from his hometown of Hannover, which includes Rabbi Mordechai Adler, its Chief Rabbi (and father of eventual British Chief Rabbi N. M. Adler) as well as two pastors, one of whom begins and signed his note in Hebrew. This, the 1820s, is truly a snapshot in time as one isn't likely to see these sorts of things anymore.

Also worth noticing is the subscription entry for Chacham Isaac Bernays, his title printed in extra large type:



This is a page concerning translation, which I include because I always enjoy seeing English in works from this period and earlier:



Blogg displays his interesting take on Hebrew scholarship. For example, here is a page of foreign words he considers to be derived from Hebrew:



In a list of the great medieval experts on grammar, Blogg notes (p. 37) that Rashi's standing as the primary commentator is hinted at by his acronym, taken to stand for ראש שבטי ישראל, which is interesting because today this is generally given as רבן של ישראל.

When he arrives at modern Hebrew literature, he praises Moses Mendelssohn in a manner reminiscent of אקדמות מלין:



All this was included in בנין שלמה, which includes much much more. His book is in German, but the introduction includes a parallel Hebrew column, which it worth a read (the significance of the chosen topic for the introduction will be made clear below). In it he discusses what he considers three classes of people. The first takes everything in the Talmud literally. They "walk in darkness." As an example, they believe there will be a שור הבור ולויתן, despite the fact that the Talmud itself says there'll be no eating and drinking in the World to Come (Berachot 17). The second class also accepts such things literally, but they see it as evidence that the sages of the Talmud were crazy. The third class includes sages like Maimonides, Nachmanides, Rabbi Sa'adiah Ga'on, and many other greats, and also included among them are various Christian scholars, like Buxtorf, Eichhorn and Rosenmueller. All of these understood correctly that the sages of the Talmud did not mean their words literally.

He then addresses the question of why the Talmud includes many strange things that defy sense. Going with the notion that such things are parables and riddles, he conjectures that the purpose was to conceal their true inner meaning from the masses. This is in contrast with the writings of the Prophets, which were also written in parables, but not ones which defy sense, and are either understandable or explained by the Prophets themselves. The Prophets were writing to be understood by the masses, to communicate God's message to them.

Although the book proceeds to be just what it seems to be, a history of the Hebrew language and writings, ancient and modern, I believe the introduction was included for a twofold purpose. One, is that Blogg simply wished to publicize his view of the Talmud. It's his introduction, and he gets to set the agenda. But the second purpose is to counter the first two groups. The first group, those who take everything in the Talmud literally and accept it, are those fellow Jews who are superstitious. The second group, those who also believe the Talmud includes many bizarre things, meant to be taken literally and therefore to be rejected, include other Jews who are straying from the religion as a result. In addition, this group includes many non-Jewish antisemites who malign the Talmud, and Jews, by extension. In Blogg's third group are included Christian scholars who, in his opinion, did not do this. Later in his book he discusses notorious anti-Talmud Christians like Eisenmenger. These he included in his second group, which he didn't think was any more correct (or bright) than the first group.

In any case, the book includes a fine historical curiosity:



Here Blogg writes that in 1816 his friend Leo de Blogg (ר' ליב בלאך ; perhaps he was a relative) wrote him from "Carl's Town" South Carolina and told him that there were Jewish scholars who taught Hebrew there. He especially noted a rabbi named Cavalo [sic], originally a teacher in New York. In South Carolina he organized a school where Latin, French, English, Spanish and Hebrew were the languages of instruction.

Another 5 years? Sure!

It's that time of year, when I realize that another year of blogging has passed. This time it's a surprising 5 years. Imagine that. I guess I should reflect on it, huh?

But I'll do that another day. In the mean time I thought it might be nice to reflect on some books which have been very influential to me in various ways. Before I mention them, I should offer the following caveats: I know that none of them are perfect. I can certainly criticize various things in just about all of these books, but the truth is the fact that authors generally don't write perfect books is a good thing. It stimulates thought and leaves room for additional discoveries. It's also a good thing that things don't have to be perfect to be influential. The other caveat is that I am only listing things which I own or read years ago, and nothing that the digital revolution laid out before me. I can't compare access to dozens and hundreds of important works that are easily available now, to a book or an article that I devoured, scrutinized and contemplated when coming across such a thing was often a case of luck or a long search. Without further ado:

1) Ashkenazim and Sephardim: Their Relations, Differences and Problems as Reflected in the Rabbinical Responsa by Hirsch Jacob Zimmels. In this excellent book published in 1958, Zimmels drew broad pictures of Ashkenazim and Sephardim as promised in the book's title. The footnotes are a cryptic mess, the conclusions are far too broad, and Zimmels did not pioneer this genre of historical research, but this book was nothing less than a lamp in the dark for me. I simply had not grasped that so much interesting information was contained in the rabbinic sources which he mined, in some cases I had even seen these sources already. But by training one tended not to pay much attention to such information, not a little bit because the necessary information to put things into a context was lacking. It didn't hurt that topics which I thirsted for information about, such as various pronunciations of Hebrew, alphabets and the like were treated beautifully in this book.

2) The short essay by Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan, Treasures, originally published in the Jewish Observer May 1976, but I read it in The Aryeh Kaplan Reader. This article discusses book collecting, and describes the joys and unexpected pleasures of poking around in old seforim stores, genizas and the like. His description of finding a few sheets of an incunabulum made my imagination run wild. Before I read it (as a teenager) I hadn't even realized that this was a thing that was up my alley. I don't think I even fully understood the article, not having knowledge of the necessary context, but I enjoyed his description of his hunt for bibliographical info about books he'd found. Who knew what "Ben Yaakov's Otzar Haseforim, a remarkable book listing each edition of every sefer printed until 1863" was? Under the influence of this article I began to examine my grandfather's oldest looking books, and to my surprise, many of the books with the tattered covers were treasures, among them a Slavita Zohar printed on blue cotton rag paper. Kaplan's article reminded me of an enjoyable passage in the autobiogaphy of Shadal, where he discusses his own love of books at an early age. While only 13 he enjoyed snooping through the dust and mess of the geniza of the Trieste Talmud Torah (where he was a student). There he found a manuscript copy of the Aruch, which he eventually bought from the widow of the principal decades later. In addition, it was in this place where he discovered a manuscript of an unknown commentary on Targum Onkelos written in the year [5]211/ 1451 and which he was to nickname ספר יאר, after the date (יאר being 211). This manuscript, now known as the פתשגן, was to play an invaluable role in אוהב גר, his own pathbreaking commentary on the Targum published in 1830, and Rabbi Nathan Marcus Adler's נתינה לגר. (Vilna 1886). Gone, I suppose, are the days when 13 years-olds can chance upon discarded 350-year old vellum manuscripts of considerable importance.

3) The שם הגדולים by the Chida, Rabbi Chaim Yosef David Azulai. Then as now the entries with names and dates didn't do that much for me, but the longer entries which included interesting information? Priceless. It was in the Scem aghedolim, "Azulai's dictionary of Jewish learned men and their writings," that I learned that some called Rashi "Yarchi." Much to my surprise I later learned that until the mid-19th century this was the typical way in which Rashi was referred in non-Jewish (and even Jewish vernacular) literature, and also that there is a veritable literature on this mistaken appellation.

4) About ten years ago I chanced upon a newly published book, David Ruderman's Jewish enlightenment in an English key, and thus was born my discovery of my interest in Anglo-Judaica, and Christian Hebraism. This book contained mounds of information about things I did not know I was interested in, and succeeded in whetting my appetite.

5) I was fortunate to find a cheap copy of the The Canon and Masorah of the Hebrew Bible: an introductory reader edited by Dr. Shnayer Leiman. Although I had already seen some of the articles in this book (one in particular stands out) it too served as a lamp in a way, allowing me to be aware of things I was interested in but hadn't even known it. It seems fitting here to mention the article which stands out. I refer to the late Dr. Moshe Greenberg's "The Stabilization of the Text of the Hebrew Bible, Reviewed in the Light of the Biblical Materials from the Judean Desert," a 1956 article which I had already read. It contained the following gem, which I'll always remember: "There is no standard text at Qumran. While this at first may seem strange it is not really so. Piety is not always accompanied by a critical sense." Incidentally, Dr. Leiman just added a tribute to Dr. Greenberg on his web site (link). It's worth reading this moving tribute to a great scholar, about whom he had elsewhere written had written "if I had to periodize my own intellectual development, the only natural division would be "before" and "after" I first met Professor Moshe Greenberg."

6) The 1996 Orthodox Forum book edited by Prof. Shalom Carmy ,Modern Scholarship in the Study of Torah: Contributions and Limitations was similarly eye-opening. It's probably unnecessary to elaborate on why and how. The word "contributions" in the title was sufficiently revelatory and even provocative.

7) The English translation of Israel Zinberg's די געשיכטע פון ליטעראטור ביי יידן and Mayer Waxman's History of Jewish Literature. Who know there was a history of Jewish literature? Or even that there was Jewish literature? These books - it turned out a musty copy of Waxman's was somehow already in my parent's home on a neglected book shelf - made me aware of the what kinds of things Jewish writers over the centuries had written about. I could have done, then as now, without some of the simplistic judgments and interpretations but of course these are monumental works, each in its own way.

8) The Schlesinger edition of Shadal's commentary on the Torah. I don't remember exactly how it was that I became aware of Shadal to the extent that I was interested in seeking this out - for I did seek it - but everything about the commentary, from the Hebrew translation of his fascinating introduction to the Torah, the Introduzione Critica ed Ermeneutica written in 1829 for his students, to the opening words of his commentary יבינו המשכילים כי המכוון בתורה אינו הודעת החכמות הטבעיות, ולא ניתנו התורה אלא להיישיר בני אדם בדרך צדקה ומשפט וגו excited me. Oh, it turned out later - thanks to my friend Dan Klein for pointing this out in his superb translation of The Book of Genesis: A Commentary by ShaDaL - that the Schlesinger edition is flawed, incomplete and even censored. But the precise, bold, plain, beautiful commentaries in this work lit a fire in me. This in turn led me to want to know more about its author, so I read Rabbi Morris Margolies's book Samuel David Luzzatto: Traditionalist Scholar (based on his PhD dissertation), and this was another example of a fine book which pointed and continues to point me in directions I wish to go.

An account of the adult circumcision of a male convert in New York, 1844. also, an ode to shochetim and kosher meat..

The following appears in an article called Jewish Hygiene in the Boston Medical and Surgical Journal, v. xxxi no. 16, Wednsday, November 20, 1844, by William Clay Wallace, a physician known best for his works on the eye, based in New York.



Read the rest of the article; as you can see even from this excerpt, he writes from a very admiring perspective. After discussing some of the laws of kashrut, which he interprets approvingly in a hygienic sense, he gives an anecdote concerning his attempt to buy a cancerous cow's eye from a sausage-maker. After examining it, he concludes that he could then understand why sausages are sometimes poisonous, the point being of course that diseased animals are not kosher and thus are not eaten by Jews. (In an earlier post I cited the writing of a 17th century Jewish physician who testified that some Venetian gentiles only bought kosher meat for this reason.)

After his discussion, Wallace writes - this is 1844, 60 years before Upton Sinclair's The Jungle - that:

"From all that has been written, we may see the vast superiority of the laws of the Jews over those of the gentiles. While the citizens of New York pay fifteen thousand dollars a year for an inspector of tobacco, and considerable sums for inspectors of lime, lumber and charcoal, they have no inspector of animals, nor any unclean place where they may he slaughtered. The Jews, on the contrary, have a man whom they can trust to kill their animals, in a proper manner, and to point out to them by his seal the meat which is wholesome. That he may not be stimulated by want to place his mark improperly, each congregation gives its inspector five hundred dollars a year, and permits him to charge a fee of fifty cents for every ox which he seals. When a butcher, who supplies the Jews, wishes to provide for them, he selects one of the finest oxen, and sends for the inspector. A rope is cast round the animal, and he is drawn up with the aid of a pulley and windlass ; the throat is exposed, and the inspector, with a long sharp knife, cuts it nearly to the spine at a single stroke. By the sharpness of the instrument and the extent of the wound, the blood gushes out in torrents; the animal is farther hoisted up ; by degrees the red blood ceases to flow, and nothing comes from the wound but serum limpid as water. The carcase is then lowered ; the inspector cuts into the chest; examines the heart and lungs; puts in his hand to ascertain if there are adhesions, and that all is healthy. He next examines the abdomen to observe the condition of the liver, &c.; and if he is satisfied, he thrusts a knife through portions of the flesh and fixes several leaden seals, impressed on one side with the Hebrew initial of the month, and on the other side with the day of the month, in a manner similar to that by which seals are attached to cloth. He is present again when it is cut into pieces, and affixes his seal to each portion. When Jews go to market, they can thus easily distinguish what kind of meat is healthy, and what, it is possible, may contain tubercles, abscesses, or sores."

Hebrew a Living Language; in the news in 1857.

Here's a notice about the first Hebrew newspaper, Hamaggid. The notice appeared in print in the August 1857 issue of the The Young Men's Magazine, and several other English publications.



It appears to be translated from a French notice in the March 1857 edition of the Revue Contemporaine, signed by O.S., whom I believe to be Octave Sachot.



Here's a fuller, and more accurate description by Leib Dukes in English in the February 17, 1860 issue of the Hebrew Review and Magazine for Jewish Literature:




Here is the aforementioned Eliezer Lipmann Silbermann:



Here is David Gordon, whom he later hired as co-editor (and by most accounts eventually did almost everything at Hamaggid).

New journal

You can download the new Bernard Revel Graduate School of Jewish Studies Student Journal, Vol. 1, 2009-2010 (BRGSJSSJ for short!).



link

A legendary account of the ultimate fate of the apostate son of Rabbi Jonathan Eybeschutz.

From Wolff's missionary journal of his mission in Bokhara (1843-45):

A summary of Lewis Glinert review of Artscroll's Stone Chumash.

I happened to come across a review of Artscroll's Stone Chumash by Lewis Glinert that I hadn't seen ("What Makes a Chumash Very Orthodox?" Le'eyla April 1995). Since it was of some interest to me, I'll share and summarize some of its contents.

A quote concerning the translation itself:

The message seems to have gone out that every ve need not be rendered 'and': thus Bereshit 21:19 'Vayyifkach Elohim et eineha' becomes 'Then God opened her eyes'; 21:27 'Vayyikkach Avraham - So Abraham Took'; 21:32 'Vayyikhretu berit - Thus they entered into a covenant'; and 21:33 'Vayitta eshel' simply 'He planted an 'eshel.' How odd then to find Chapter 22 beginning 'And it happened', and subsequently
And He said 'Here I am, my son.'
And he said, 'Here are the fire and the
wood[...]'

Compare [Rabbi Aryeh] Kaplan:
'Yes, my son.'
'Here is the fire and the wood[...]'

ArtScroll, it appears, cannot decide between readable translation for adults and a word-for-word chanting translation for the Hebrew classroom.

Of the frequent archaism, I would single out as particularly misleading such inversions as in Bemidbar 32:16 'Gidrot tzon nivneh lemiknenu - Pens for the flock shall we build here for our livestock' (an interrogative?).

The particle hinneh is the translator's acid test. When introducing a clause (in past or present tense), it signifies a realisation or a surprise. Unfortunately, Modern English, no longer uses a matching particle along the lines of 'behold'; instead we imply it through a verb. Thus Bereshit 22:13 'Vayyar vehinneh ayil' would be today rendered simply as 'and saw a ram,' and 22:20 'Vayyuggad leAvraham lemor hinneh yaledah Milkah' as 'Avraham received a message: "Milkah has had children"' (Kaplan's translations). But ArtScroll hangs on to 'behold' as if it were halakhah le-Mosheh misinai, with comical results: 'And saw - behold, a ram! - afterwards, caught in a thicket'; 'Abraham was told, saying: Behold, Milcah too has borne children.' For 'Vehinneh hi Le'ah (Bereshit 29:25), 'And it was, in the morning, that behold it was Leah.'

He also makes the observation that although Artscroll says it follows Rashi, which he calls "eminently reasonable," he cannot discover which principle they use when Rashi's interpretation is expressing derash or has no comment at all. For example, כִּי-מֵרֹאשׁ צֻרִים אֶרְאֶנּוּ Numbers 23:9 is translated as "far from its origins, I see it rock-like," like Rashi, but this is derash, and it ignores Onkelos (ארי מריש טוריא חזיתיה) and "the common-sense peshat."

He also notes a number of departures from Rashi's explanation, for no apparent reason.

In Ex 21:6, where Rashi translates וַעֲבָדוֹ לְעֹלָם in a derashic way (until the Jubilee year), the translators here write "forever," according to the peshat, and place Rashi's explanation in the notes. This is a pretty good catch on Glinert's part. An ahalachic translation? Is this the JPS?

לא תבשל גדי is rendered 'You shall not cook a kid,' 'despite Rashi's detailed argument that gedi denotes all young livestock.' (See Ex. 23:19) 'Uvekhol nafshekha' is 'with all your soul' although Rashi clearly would have favored 'with all your life.'

Glinert puzzles over the Hebrew animal terms in Parashat Shemini. Rashi translates the tinshemet as bat, the chasidah a stork and the anakah a heron. But Artscroll does not translate them, explaining: "Since Halachah rules that we do not know the accurate translations of the fowl in the Torah's list, we follow the lead of R' Hirsch in transliterating rather than conjecturing translations. The notes will give translations that are suggested by various commentators.' Glinert notes that 'In fact the editors have felt that they can go one better than Hirsch: they do not translate the eight sheretz haaretz either (and here no halakhah is conceivably in jeopardy).'

Glinert admits that there is a certain logic in not translating disputed terms, saving suggestions for the footnotes, which is natural given that all translations have to make a choice and save the fuller discussion for the notes. But why should it be done only for the animals in Shemini and the gem stones in Tetzaveh, when there are "hundreds of other words and structures in dispute?"

Moving along to the commentary, he calls it a "tour de force." "Blend[ing] old and new interpretations into a satisfying whole." He believes it goes "first for the literal or philosophical" interpretation, and mostly resists the temptation to mention "all those midrashim which generations of schoolchildren imagine to be peshat." Where midrashim are mentioned, there is a "commendable" attempt to offer some philosophical significance, often from the writing of recent rabbinic scholars like Rabbi Yaakov Kamenetesky and Rabbi Gedaliah Schorr. The effect is a commentary "preoccupied with timeless truths" rather than "the more topical truths" of commentary like the one in the Hertz Chumash.

He takes them to task for their "disturbing" omissions, asking where is the Torah Temimah? Where is the Machberet Menachem and Sefer Hashorashim of Janach? Glinert calls the lack of reference to the Lucavitcher Rebbe's Likkutei Sichos the 'most serious' omission, and 'one wonders if this is just an omission.'

He ends by describing the whole as a "mixed blessing." If you're looking for a message behind the words, it's a joy. (His words.) But if one is looking for the Divine words themselves, (also his words), you're out of luck.

An 18th century Jewish response to Bible text criticism mania.

In 1775 an Italian Jewish emigre in London named Raphael Baruh published an interesting book called Critica Sacra Examined, which was a reply to the book Critica Sacra, or, A Short Introduction to Hebrew Criticism by Henry Owen.

Owen's book is a veritable how-to manual of textual criticism of the Hebrew Bible, occasioned by the atmosphere surrounding Benjamin Kennicott's project collating as many Bible manuscripts as possible with the aim of discovering the original ("primitive") uncorrupted text. The preface to Critica Sacra begins: "If the Hebraical Reader will give himself the trouble to observe and pursue these short Directions, he will find his pains in a little time sufficiently and amply rewarded. For he will be led hereby to discover and to correct many Errours in the Hebrew Text, which no other method of proceeding can so effectually enable him to perform. Nor is the benefit of the English Reader left wholly unregarded. . . " The book begins with a rule: "It may not be assumed as an allowed Maxim - That the Hebrew Scriptures have not reached us in that pure and perfect state, in which they were originally written - That they have undergone indeed many great and grievous Corruptions, occasioned by the ignorance or negligence of the Transcribers."

Here is one page, which lines up parallel passages in the Bible, showing what must be errors in transmission:



In short, this book sharply disagreed with the Jewish attitude toward the textual integrity of the Sacred Scriptures, and this Raphael Baruh sought to counter the notion expressed in Owen's maxim, by a careful examination of the book of Chronicles, set against parallel passages in the rest of Scripture. As there are indeed many discrepancies between Chronicles and the other books, this book was seen as in the sorriest state, full of errors. Baruh sought to demonstrate that Chronicles is in fact a kind of commentary on the other books, and what seem to be errors and mistakes are actually clarifications of one kind or another.

There's a reference to this book in Mordechai Gumpel Schnaber Levissohn's 1784 commentary on Ecclesiastes, תוכחת מגילה:



Below is Baruh's introduction, which is really quite fascinating, especially as a model for how to write persuasively. Owen's contention must have bothered Baruh far more than he lets on, but he writes moderately and modestly.