"Is it true that raspberries aren't kosher?" -- an 'Ask The Rabbi' column from 1971.

This is from the Jewish Chronicle.

Rabbati; an earlier proposed title for female rabbis.

In light of the recent and ongoing conversation within Orthodoxy about ordaining females as rabbis, one of the most important and initial things to consider is what a female rabbi should be called. Some suggested Rabbah. Here's a quarter-century old suggestion for Rabbati in an article called 'How About Rabbati?' by Werner Weinberg in 'Journal of Reform Judaism,' Summer 1986. Ashkenazim might try Rabbosi on.

Interesting points: Weinberg discusses the etymology of the term rabbi and it's English pronunciation. He likewise suggests that Rabbati be vocalized (in English) with the same i pronunciation, although he admits that it doesn't sound very nice. To me that sounds like a lazy call for zimmun.

Incidentally, I recently noticed, with pleasure, that in the de Sola Pool siddur רבי is vocalized the following way in Pirke Avos, רִבִּי. However, for Rabbi Yehuda Ha-nassi it is רַבִּי! See this post for Revi Ya'akov Emden's position which justifies רַבִּי for Rabbenu Ha-kadosh alone.










In the 18th century Rabbi Chaim Yoseph David Azulai famously termed them Rabbanit.

Did Italian rabbis change shabbos to Sunday, permit shaving with a razor, eating pork and women showing their hair in 1796?

In 1796 the European media reported that a rabbinical synod in Florence, Italy had met to consider questions of reform, and they had permitted eating pork, shaving with a razor, working on Yom Tov, women uncovering their hair and moving shabbos to Sunday. Needless to say, this was a hoax. It didn't happen. Nor, as Lois Dubin argues in her article on the reception of Reform in Italy, could it have happened - in Italy of all places. I don't think it's entirely clear who perpetuated the hoax, but it does seem to have originated in Germany. As it has been pointed out numerous times, German Jews with modernizing sensibilities idealized Italian Jews who had no need of modernizing, being that their traditional Judaism was itself close to the kind of modern Judaism they envisioned. Of course in reality it was totally ortodosso, as well as modern, which meant that for more moderate modernizers it really was a model to emulate, while for more radical ones only their perception was. Such a synod in Italy was in reality unthinkable.

However, all of this is with hindsight. When the rumors swirled, the rest of Jewry were astonished at the news. Italian Jews were outraged and embarrassed. An investigation was launched by Hamburg Rabbi Raphael Kohen and Prague maskil Baruch Jeiteles. Letters of denial began arriving from Italy, some of which were published in Hameassef. A group of Italian rabbis sent a letter, including the Chida and my favorite-named-rabbi of all time, Rabbi Laudadio Sacerdote of Modena (one of the great Italian posekim, R. Yishmael Kohen, author of the responsa Zera Emes) and others. You can read their letters here (to my surprise it seems to be signed by Zechariah Padova, whom I blogged about a couple of days ago here, who thus seems to have moved past the unfortunate incident of nearly 20 years before). Their letters were published as a pamphlet, and that same year it was also translated and published in German.

Thus far that. But what did the reports of the Florence Reform Hoax look like in European newspapers? It's alway refreshing to see history through the eyes of the contemporaries. Below are some accounts as they appeared in English newspapers:

1) London Packet or New Lloyd's Evening Post, Friday, April 29, 1796



2) Morning Post and Fashionable World, Monday, May 2, 1796



3) Morning Post and Fashionable World, Saturday, May 28, 1796



4) Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, Friday, May 27, 1796



5)From the book Analysis of researches into the origin and progress of historical time from the creation to the Accession of C. Caligula (1796) by Robert Walker.



Finally, below is the Chida's recollection of the incident in his responsa Yosef Omez (1798):



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Rabbi Chaim Yoseph David Azulay (Chida) examined the books of the Karaites and this Latin Mishnah in 1775.

The entry for 15 Av of 1775 in the Chida's travelog published as Ma'agal Tov Ha-shalem reads as follows:



"I visited Rabbi Jacob Raphael Saraval and he showed me books of the Karaites and Mishnayos with the commentaries of Bertinoro and Maimonides in Latin, with all their illustrations."

For some reason this interested the Chida. אין משיבין על המעשה. Recently all six volumes of this magnificent and interesting edition of the Mishnah became available digitally (link). I thought it would be interesting to discuss this edition, but first a little about the aforementioned Rabbi Jacob Raphael Saraval of Venice and Mantua (1708-1782).

Rabbi Saraval, a pupil of the famed Rabbi Yitzchak Lampronti (author of the rabbinical encyclopedia Pachad Yitzchak) was an erudite scholar, translator, poet and apologist. The meeting described above occurred in 1775, but the Chida must have met him as early as 1754, where he describes a eulogy he heard him deliver which must have been quite exhausting:



"During that week [2 Shevat 5514] Rabbi Jacob Saraval delivered a eulogy for the aforementioned Rabbi Gur [Aryeh Finzi] for three hours, in the vernacular; rhetorical and elevated speech."

Getting back to 1775, two weeks earlier (26 Tammuz) the Chida describes an earlier meeting at Rabbi Saraval's home, where he was shown a bible printed in Constantinople in 1505, important because it was printed by exiles from Spain. The Chida writes that it contained "new haftarahs (הפטרות חדשות)" whatever that's supposed to mean. On Tisha B'Av Rabbi Saraval mentioned the Chida from the pulpit in an honorable way (the Chida never fails to note when he was shown respect or its opposite; what can I say, he was human). He seems to have appreciated the nice words the Chida said about the community of Mantua, although he told his congregation that he's appreciate it if they'd learn to conduct themselves in holiness after the manner of Rabbi Menachem Azariah of Fano and Rabbi Moseh Zacut (a Mantuan rabbi who died in 1697).

In his youth, Rabbi Saraval collaborated with a fellow pupil of R. Lampronti, Rabbi Simcha Calimani on an Italian translation of Mishnah Avos (1729). Also of some interest is that Rabbi Saraval had a relationship with Benjamin Kennicott and evidently exchanged correspondence (perhaps they even met, as Saraval spent some time in England). He seems to have supplied Kennicott with at least two Hebrew Bible codices for his collation and you can read a little snippet of a quote from Saraval in his Dissertatio Generalis (1783) on the text of the Hebrew Bible (pp.508-09). Although my Latin is poor, (okay, almost non-existent) Kennicott quotes Saraval: "Varietatem lectionis, in msto magno numero reperiendam, ex consensu sum antiquis verzionibus diiudicandam esse" which means something like "Textual variants must be compared with the ancient Jewish versions" [Targums and the like].



Here are two biographical entries about him:

Rabbi Marco Ghirondi's Toldos Gedolei Yisrael should come first as it is probably a source for the second one:



Shmuel Yoseph Fuenn's Knesset Yisrael:



You can read some of his Hebrew poetry here in Shirman's anthology of Italian Hebrew poetry.

ETA 4.13.10:

Many thanks to my friend Dan Klein for sending me the following photographs of the 1732 Livorno edition of the Calimani/ Saraval translation of Pirkei Avos, which is a family heirloom:







Dan, who's knows Italian very well, pointed out to me that it is strange that on the title page we are told that they translated it "fatto nella loro gioventu" which means "done in their youth." Since in 1732, which was only three years after the initial publication, our authors were all of 25 years old or so it seems strange to speak of their youth this way. Although it is possible that it's just strange language and they were still in their youth, my reply to Dan was that it's possible they could have done it when they were 13 or 14, which would make sense of "in their youth," even though we are accustomed to thinking of 22 year olds as youths. Translation seems to have been a big aspect of Hebrew study in Italy, so it would make sense as a very youthful exercise. In addition, this was still the era before delayed adulthood, even recognizing that 21-22 could also have been considered "youths" back then. But remember, the Ramchal was a seasoned author and teacher by his early 20s, and they were roughly the same age.

* * *

If someone is still reading, it's time for the Surenhuys Mishnah. Willem Surenhuys (1664-1729) was a Dutch Hebraist who made a major contribution to Christian Hebrew studies in producing an exceptional work, the 63 tractates of the Mishnah in Latin, along with the commentaries of Rabbi Ovadiah Bertinoro and the Rambam, and their introductions. To put that into perspective, with so much contemporary Jewish translation projects, has anyone even imagined not only translating the Mishnah, appending useful notes, but also translating the perushim of the Bertinoro and the Rambam, not to mention an impressive Hebrew index? No small achievement. The truth is that many tractates already existed in Latin translation. In fact Surenhuys used the existing translation of 26 of the 63 tractates, which itself is interesting; that is, to know that before 1698 26 tractates of the Mishnah were already translated into Latin.

While most Christian scholars of Hebrew had an interest in knowing what was in the rabbinic writings, Surenhuys (and those who followed him, such as William Wotton of England who translated Massekhtos Shabbos and Eruvin into English) had a particular interest in the Mishnah. His fervent belief was that the Mishnah is special, because it records the true traditions of the Jews! While most Christian Hebraists doubted, to put it mildly, that there was any credibility to the Jewish claim to possess a true oral Torah, Surenhuys did not see why this was not possible. He knew that the Mishnah was only a little later than the time of Jesus, thus it was probably a fair description of Judaism in the time of Jesus. Why shouldn't the Mishnah reliably describe, for example, Temple practice? This in turn sheds much light on the Bible. In addition, why shouldn't the Mishnah shed an enormous amount of light on the Judaism of the 1st century, when Jesus lived? For example, the order on marriage and related laws, Nashim, should be a treasure trove of information on authentic Jewish marriage practice, which could explain a great deal about the Gospels (eg, Jewish betrothal was relevant to the relationship between Joseph and Mary). But his interest was not purely scholarly. He also believed that the Mishnah could serve as a common link between Jews and Christians, since the Mishnah could be used to show the fulfillment of the Old Testament in the New.

Below follows an explanation of how Surenhuys came to this opinion, and then a review of this edition of the Mishnah from 1722, by Michel de la Roche (1680-1742) a French Huguenot who settled in England, and was the author of the series Memoirs of Literature, in which he presented the scholarly literature of the day that he had read to the public. Roche was very interested in and sympathetic to the ideas propounded by Surenhuys:





The review:







On to the edition itself. I will post the title page of two volume, a sample of what it looks like inside and then some of the interesting illustrations (which the Chida refers to) found throughout.

Note: these illustrations are only in the first three volumes, and were created and supplied by Jews, who had warmly supported the project. They are thanked and recognized in the introduction. This is especially interesting because, for example, when you look at the illustrations of sukkot you are looking at sukkot as known and imagined by actual late 17th century Jews. The reason why the later volumes lack illustrations is due to the death of Rabbi Isaac Coenraads of the German Synagogue in Amsterdam, who had been mainly responsible for supplying them.

Title page:




Fairly typical pages from Vol. I:





Illustrations from Vol. I:











The impressive index:



Illustrations from Vol. II:

Title page. Only in the second volume is the Hebrew title given:







Illustrations from Vol. III:











Although the introduction to the 6th and final volume ended with a prayer hoping that his translation may help lead the Jews to Jesus, he is in the judgment of Peter van Rooden "quite probably . . . the most philosemitic Christian Hebraist of the seventeeth century." As Rooden points out, unlike basically all other Hebraists, he wished to keep theological polemics against Judaism separate from rabbinic scholarship. He himself never engaged in polemics, and took other scholars to task for their use of rabbinic literature to combat Judaism, which they only possessed because of Jewish teachers. The first volume is dedicated to the Burgomasters of Amsterdam, and he specially cites their humane treatment of the Jews as a reason for their deserving praise. In addition, throughout the translation and commentary he depends and relies upon the Jewish interpretation of the Mishnah, aided by Maimonides and Bertinoro. He avoids historical and theological criticism; he tries, in a word, to present the Mishnah as it is.

A final note: this is not really the first complete Mishnah translation. A Jew, Isaac Abendena, brother to the Haham of London at the time, translated the entire Mishnah into Latin, but it remained in manuscript in Cambridge University (Surenhuys had access to it and made use of it). Supposedly his brother had first translated the Mishnah into Spanish, but we'll leave that for another post.

Zechariah Padova; the man who dresses too piously, misbehaves and is forced to shave in 1777.

Picture this: its 1777. Some communal leaders think a guy who looks pious in the way he dresses is not acting the way he looks, so they order him to cut off his beard. When he doesn't, they do it for him.

Here's an interesting picture of what that guy thought of the whole thing:



As you can see, here is an apparently pious and learned man seated with his seforim, being confronted by a gang led by a man with a dog's body (or is that a dog with a man's head?). There are some choice biblical (Psalm 132:18; Micah 5:8) and liturgical (link) quotes.

The background that I am aware of is as follows. This particular image was engraved in 1777, possibly by the man depicted himself. His enemies are the communal leaders of Modena, and he obviously got his pictorial revenge. Although there may be other sources which describe the circumstances (eg, in Modena communal records perhaps?) the only primary source I'm aware of comes about through a fortuitous coincidence someone told the Chida about it while he was staying in Trieste in March of 1777, where he also met the man. On pg. 88 in the Ma'agal Tov Ha-shalem we see:

Chida writes (from Trieste) that

"The aforementioned Signore Samson [Levi] told me about the "plague of the beard," Signor Zecharia Padova, whom the leaders of Modena ordered to remove his beard because he was "suspected" and was causing a chillul Hashem (profanation of God's name) and they shaved it off. He left there cursing them and with a caricature that he made, of himself as a rabbi studying, and the officials of Modena, one of them with the head of a dog and the rest appearing like boors. At night I spoke with him, reproached him a great deal, but he remained rebellious. May God allow him to repent for the honor of his rabbinic ancestors." Thus we know what the circumstances of this very interesting caricature are, even if we do not have very specific details.

In Benjamin Cymerman's English translation of Ma'agal Tov he footnotes that "He is clearly a dubious character and would shame the community," which I suppose is the only conclusion one can draw from this passage. Of course we realize that Zecharia Padova did not see it that way, quite the opposite; I do not know who is right in this dispute. It should also be noted that without further information it isn't even possible to conclude that the communal leaders over-reacted. In that very year, 1777, the Jews were expelled from all territory of the Republic of Venice (link). While it's obviously too much to lay unspecified bad behavior on the part of one individual as imperiling the entire community, especially when we do not know if this was even claimed on the part of the officials, we would do well to recall at least that 1777 wasn't 1977, even in Italy. Thus, the chillul Hashem of a rabbi-appearing Jew may well have come with dire consequences.

I don't know how many copies of this picture were distributed or how many survive, but this particular copy was in Cecil Roth's personal collection and he printed at least two times. The first appeared in the the pre-Hitler Encylopedia Judaica [1]. Roth had sent the editors the image but to his dismay they completely messed up the caption. Writing in the 1940s, Roth said that "as it happens, this caricature — a unique copy, probably, of a unique production — is to be found in my collection, answering in every detail to Azulai's description. When the Encyclopaedia Judaica was in the course of publication, I sent it to the Editors for reproduction. To my amazement, they described it (volume ix, c. 967-8) as a caricature on the English "Jew Bill" of 1753, thus depriving it completely of its significance. I am happy to have this opportunity of clearing up the confusion." [2]

Below is how it appeared in the Encylopedia Judaica:



Here is how Roth described the image: "The great Azulai, in his travel-diary Maagal Tob (p. 88) mentions how in 1777, when he was in Trieste, he heard about the dispute in which this person had been involved with the leaders of the community of Modena, and how in revenge he had distributed far and wide a caricature shewing himself as a Rabbi, sitting at his desk and writing, and his enemies looking like boors, one of them in the semblance of a dog. " I want to include another comment by Roth, because it shows his humility. Anyone who will go on record admitting that he doesn't understand something and asks for help is deserving of recognition for it. Roth adds: "(I may mention that Azulai's allusive method renders parts of the passage unintelligible, and that I would be most grateful for any assistance in interpreting it.)"

Taking Roth up on the challenge, another writer writes that he doesn't believe the Chida meant to say that Zechariah Padova made the image himself. "Azulai uses the verb עשה which can mean not only to make something but also to have something made. It is more likely that the Rabbi would have gotten others to compose the caricature than that he would do it himself. The caricature is a copper engraving the execution of which must have required considerable acquaintance with the subject." [3] While he is probably right about that, he refers to the subject of this post as "Rabbi Zechariah Padova" and "Rabbi Zechariah" and "the Rabbi."

In a book edited by Roth in 1961 called "Jewish Art, an Illustrated History" once again this image is printed (pg. 522) in an article by Roth himself called "Jewish Art and Artists Before Emancipation." Evidently Roth did not accept this clarification, for he writes (pg. 521) "In 1777, a scholar from Modena in Italy, Zechariah Padova, after a quarrel with the leaders of his community, caricatured them in an etching, in which he depicted himself seated in his study and his elegantly-dressed opponents advancing on him, one of them — his bitterest enemy — having a dog's body. The artist's self-portrait is noteworthy." In the next paragraph he calls this an "unusual achievement."

It is true that Roth never calls him a rabbi, but Lansberger did, and I was naturally curious about his identity. Let me tell you, there isn't a lot out there about Zechariah Padova.

In a remarkable little book which essentially lists any and all Italian rabbis through the ages called Indice alfabetico dei rabbini e scrittori israeliti di cose giudaiche in Italia (1886) by Rabbi Marco Mortara we find the following entries for rabbis surnamed Padova; thus we see that he was not a rabbi:




Here is the title page of that book:



The only possible reference I found to our Zecharia Padova is the following in the 4th volume of the Mekize Nirdamim Society's Kovetz al Yad series (1888). This particular volume published documents relating to the Ten Tribes by Adolph Neubaeur:



As you can see in Mortara's book, one of the Rabbis Padova was Rabbi Menashe Padova of Modena (d. 1793), or Menasce Jehosciuan Padova in the charming Italian orthography. If this Zechariah Chaim Padova, the grandson of Rabbi Menashe Padova, is the same man then we've seen what the Chida was talking about; he was part of a distinguished rabbinic family, and the Chida felt that he was defaming his family. If only we knew what he was accused of!

[1] I guess a lot of people don't realize that Encylopedia Judaica was originally begun in Germany (and naturally, in German). Ten volumes were published (Aach to Lyra) between 1928 and 1934 until the project had to be abandoned. The publisher Nachum Goldmann was instrumental in reviving the project in 1966, and the fruits were the Encylopedia Judaica, edited by Cecil Roth, which many of us know and love (completed in 1972). This complete EJ even included some articles translated from the original German edition. My thanks to Dan Rabinowitz for providing me with the page from the Encyclopedia Judaica.

[2] Roth, Cecil "New notes on pre-emancipation Jewish artists" pg. 506 in HUCA 17 (1942)

[3] Landsberger, Franz "New studies in early Jewish artists " pg. 301 HUCA 18 (1944). I am happy to send these two articles to all who email me and ask.