Tears and Kisses (Va-yishlach)

"And Esau ran to him and embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him and they cried" (Genesis 33:4)

I have never liked the Midrashim to Genesis which explain away Yaakov’s trickstery against his twin brother, or the ones that explain that Esau deserved to loose his birthright because of some behavioural fault. I equally dislike the ones that tell us that Esau really did mean to harm Yaakov during their brief reunion. I particularly can’t stand the ancient Midrash, which is repeated in Rashi’s commentary, according to which Esau sought to bite, not kiss Yaakov. According to Midrash Bereishit Rabbah and Midrash Tanhuma, Yaakov’s neck miraculously turned to marble, thus thwarting the fratricidal elder brother’s ploy and occasioning his tears (his teeth hurt). It is a very clever Midrash, which hinges on the similarity between the words kiss (neshikah) and bite (neshichah).

But the Midrash assumes and argues that Esau is somehow not Jewish. The Bible does tell us that Esau, having been robbed of his birthright, moved to the mountains of Se’ir and became the progenitor of the Edomites, in today’s Jordan. The Rabbis extended the meaning of Edom: in every generation, Edom comes to stand for the Jews’ archenemeny. Therefore during Roman times, Edom was a Jewish codeword for the Romans; in medieval Christendom, Edom was a Jewish code word for “the Christians”; Maimonides understood Islam to be a continuation of Edom. Recent commentators have sometimes affirmed these Midrashim concerning Esau’s hatred against Yaakov, to devastating political effect.

I think it is time to lay to rest this antagonistic thinking, and to stop blackening Esau in order to whitewash Yaakov. In rejecting the anti-Esau / Edom Midrashim, I am undoubtedly guided by a political agenda: I do not think that whitewashing your own ancestors and blacken those of your opponents is conducive to peace.

If the antagonism between the brothers prevailed, then how could they, near the end of the Parasha, come together and jointly bury their father Isaac? The Torah clearly states that they buried their father together. Why then could the embrace of the brothers not also be genuine?

I would like to think that in our rabbinic tradition there is a constructive voice of those not invested in putting Esau down. Although he transmits the Midrash about the kiss that was really a bite, Rashi also cites another ancient Midrash, Sifre Rabbah (other versions exist, i.e. Yalkut Shimoni). Here R. Shimon bar Yohai, the great mystical scholar of antiquity, argues that despite his old enmity (hence the retinue of 400 soldiers), Esau was moved by brotherly compassion; his kiss was sincere, a moment of overwhelming memory of a shared childhood. Another version of this line of interpretation was taken up by the Provencal Bible commentator David Kimchi (aka Radak, 1160 – 1235). Other Sephardi commentators also dismissed midrashic attempts to interpret away Esau’s kiss. Although a minority oppinion, there were certainly rabbis who showed an insight into the complexity of sibling relations and the possibility for love to survive the ravages of conflict and betrayal.

In Parashat Toledot, we are given the following devastating insight into a wounded psyche:
"Now Esau harboured a grudge against Jacob because of the blessing which his father had
given him, and Esau said to himself, “Let but the mourning period of my father come,
and I will kill my brother Jacob” (Gen. 27:41).

Rashi comments on this passage as follows:
“Let but the mourning period of my father come . . . ” We should understand
this in its plain sense, that is, so as to not cause his father grief. Even though
there are various homiletic explanations."

Is loving one's family enough?

In her commentary on Chaye Sara, Rina Wolfson (Kol Nefesh) writes:
"Laban loves his family and will do anything for them. But he cannot see beyond
them. He has no sense of communal or social responsibility. When we first
meet Laban he is running. But this is part of his deception, because Laban is
not a man who moves. Laban is static – both physically and in outlook.
By contrast, Abraham, and later Jacob, are constantly moving, and are acutely
aware of their national destiny. If need be, they will put that duty before themselves.
Such altruistic outward-focus is impossible for Laban.
Laban’s love for his own family is not in doubt. But it isn’t enough. A man in
stasis, unaware of his wider community and his responsibilities to it, is ultimately
flawed."

Abram - a road movie?

Children are usually taught in this parasha about Abram's supreme faith in God, the unquestioning way in which he sets out on the journey without asking uncomfortable questions or in fact replying anything.
"So Abram went, according to how God had spoken to him..."
His is usually extolled as an example of trusting in God.

This near superhuman faith contrasts with the real human uncertainty of migration. The dissatisfaction or even oppression that makes one leave one's "country, kindred and father's house", as God is quick to specify in the opening address of Lekh Lekha. Country, kindred and father's house are something that our people have had to leave behind often, even in this century - not least in the years around 1938, as we commemorate "Kristallnacht" for the 70th time. One never knows whether one will ever see one's kindred again, or one's father's house - or one's parents, for that matter.

The famous Midrash about Abram breaking the idols in his father's house fulfills the function of making Abram's prompt decision to emigrate more natural.

But it is the Haftarah which articulate some of the doubts associated with leaving one's home:

"Why say you Oh Jacob and speak Oh Israel: "My way (or path) is hidden from the Lord..."
Although the prophet Isaiah goes on to assure the people of divine protection, he who knew the destruction of Jerusalem and the beginning of a new exile, is at least able to voice the voice of uncertainty and doubt which is the voice of the migrant.

The Joys and Challenges of Yom Kippur in a Multicultural Society

by Deb Altman (with comments from Yom Kippur study session participants)

When I first thought about this session I envisaged a long moan about how difficult it is to hold to the ideals of Yom Kippur while society is falling apart all around us. The more I thought about it, the more I realised how much value the day brings to me and my participation in the mixed society I live in. The title then moved on to “The joys and challenges of Yom Kippur in a multicultural society”. I’ll start by explaining the challenges I experience then move on, if not to Joys(!) then at least to the benefits and value I gain from taking part in this day.

The first challenge is taking time off. As everyone studying or working in education knows, the High Holy Days happen at the busiest time of the year. Students are just getting used to new classes, new tutors and new timetables; teachers and lecturers have to choose between their commitment to Judaism and their commitment to getting their new students off to a good start. As the holidays fall so close together at this time of year, it can seem hard to justify one or two days’ absence each week from the workplace. For some Jews perhaps this is less of a struggle, but for me it is an annual wrestling match between different aspects of my conscience.

The second challenge is explaining to others what you have been doing. Since most people around me are Christians they can understand sin and affliction aspects of the Fast. What seems more alien to them is the associated importance of celebratory and communal activities, which I’m only recently beginning to realise for myself.

The third challenge is central to the observance of Yom Kippur: the notions of guilt and sin. I understand that on Yom Kippur we reflect on our deeds of the past year and vow that we will do better next year. How can we do this without pulling ourselves to pieces and believing we have nothing useful to offer to the world? One thing I find helpful is the image of the scapegoat, which carries our sins off into the wilderness. This helps me to feel refreshed and renewed rather than bowed down by my guilt and all my sins. It also means I really have to reflect on my thoughts and actions, to decide exactly what I’m going to lay on the poor creature. I don’t want it to have to carry any unnecessary burdens.

Comment: The English word ‘sin’ is translated from the Hebrew ‘Chet’, which derives from an archery term meaning ‘to miss the target’. We found this a helpful way of re-defining the notion of sin.

So why do I do Yom Kippur? This is the fourth challenge. I have to answer this question in order to affirm my reasons for participating in a festival which presents me with so many challenges. I have experimented a few times with alternative, not strictly halachic, approaches to the festival. At the end of each I’ve had a sense of disappointment or frustration, feeling as though I haven’t achieved the state of fulfilment I experience when I have more nearly ‘followed the rules’. This led me to try and identify my ‘minimum requirements for a successful Yom Kippur’. You might like to do this as an exercise for yourself sometime. So here are the ingredients (I couldn’t resist just one reference to cooking!) I find to be essential for me to feel I have ’done’ Yom Kippur.

1 I have to fast. Barring, of course, illness or medication if required. However fasting on its own is not enough.

2 As part of my fast I need to make time to reflect: maybe on my Jewishness or things that I’ve done this year and how I would like to do things next year.

3 I have to be part of a community, so fasting together with other Jews seems more effective than fasting alone.

4 I haven’t tested this out, but I suspect it’s important to me that the community is praying for at least some of the time.

I was interested to find that these criteria are explained by Arthur Waskow, in “Seasons of our Joy”. He says, “So Yom Kippur has become the moment when most Jews individually and the Jewish people collectively experience the strongest sense of partnership and covenant with God.” This reflects my experience of the individual and the collective; the relationship with each other and with God.

Comment: It also echoes our connection with other Jews at this time, not only around the world but also through the generations and centuries during which we have been celebrating Yom Kippur.

So what do I get out of participating in Yom Kippur? In thinking about this I identified a surprising number of benefits, which make the day feel worth while.

1 In a strange way I find it liberating to have a day which is not bounded by mealtimes. It makes me realise how on other days my time is divided into meals and the time between meals. By taking away this structure I move into a sense of timelessness, which allows the space for reflection, or for discussion with others, without interruption.

2 One of my favourite moments is the Chazzan’s prayer, where the Chazzan proclaims his humility before God, and I in turn get a sense of my own humility in the world. To me, a Chazzan is someone so knowledgeable and devout that is seems hard to imagine he carries any sins at all. The fact that he declares humility does not in any way detract from his skills and the esteem he is afforded. This helps me to recognise the possibility of being open to correction and improvement, without being completely worthless as a person.

3 On Yom Kippur I have a sense of being completely Jewish. This is probably true for many of you most of the time, but on other days I frequently feel my Jewishness is compromised by the innumerable other demands of secular (or Christian) society. On many days I experience in a minor way the types of struggle of conscience I described earlier.

4 The day after Yom Kippur I often feel very calm, refreshed and at peace with the world. This is obviously of benefit to the people around me and my colleagues, and it helps me to feel justified for taking the time off work.

How Yom Kippur strengthens me to participate in secular society

1 The Mishnah states: “For transgressions between human beings and God, Yom Kippur effects atonement; but for transgressions between a person and his fellow, Yom Kippur effects atonement only if he has made peace with his fellow.” This reminds me that it’s not enough to push away the rest of my world and concentrate on fasting and praying for a day. I need to sort things out with everyone I might have upset at work, the next-door neighbour and so on.

2 I’ve recently learned that on Yom Kippur we read the book of Jonah. As I’ve usually given up and gone to bed by this time(!!) I’ve never actually done this on Yom Kippur afternoon, but in preparation for this talk I had a look at the relevance of Jonah to this day. I was intrigued to find how closely I could identify with Jonah, and how I suddenly understood the text in a way I’d never appreciated before.

Firstly, I have an image of Jonah as a Jewish man, not devoutly religious but observant in some respects. God asks him to go to Nineveh to pass on God’s message. Jonah thinks, “Why me?” and tries to avoid doing it. This describes me in my working and secular life, every time someone asks me a question about Judaism, or in some way expects me to represent the entire Jewish people. I feel like saying “Why me?” and I look around and realise there’s no-one else to do it!

On reading it the second time I realised that the point of the story is for God to show Jonah that He cares for all people, whether or not they are Jewish. This for me represents an image of God I can feel comfortable with. It makes no sense in my life to have a moral code which applies to Jews and disregards all others. We live in a multi-cultural community in which everyone, in my opinion, has a right to equal treatment by God and by other people. Reading Jonah and participating in Yom Kippur strengthens me as a Jew and helps me to understand my role in a secular, multi-cultural society.

Yom Kippur by its nature presents many challenges, and for me these are compounded by the challenge of practising Judaism in a multicultural society. I’m always one for a challenge, but I think it’s important to understand why you’re taking it on. On balance, I find that for me, the benefits of participating in Yom Kippur outweigh the challenges. I suppose that’s why I’m still doing it, and why it felt important to me to prepare this talk.

The Inner Shofar

Is the Binding of Isaac just a story about a guy willing to kill (his son) to please his boss? Every year at this time I puzzle over three things to do with the Akedah:

1. why was the divine trial necessary, i.e. why did God have to ask for this sacrifice if Abraham was never meant to go through with it?
2. Why is Isaac’s mother the matriarch Sarah not mentioned?
3. What exactly does the Shofar have to do with the Akedah? Is it just about the use of a very special ram’s horn as instrument?

A few years ago, I was rummaging in old Midrashim, and I came up with some interesting texts that I’d like to offer you here for some thoughts.

1. Isaac’s willingness to be sacrificed and his wager to Ishmael

In the Targum Yonatan the command to sacrifice Isaac is God’s response to Isaac’s wager to Ishmael. “Ishmael: ‘I am more righteous than you, because I was circumcised at thirteen years; if I had wanted to prevent my circumcision, I could have. But you were circumcised when eight days old. If you had realized what was happening, perhaps you wouldn’t have let them circumcise you.’ Isaac: ‘Behold now today I am 36 years old. And if the Holy one Blessed be He were to require all parts of my body, I would not hesitate to give them to Him.’ At once God tested Abraham ...” (Targum Jonathan (transl. M. Maher, Targum Pseudo-Jonathan: Genesis [Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1992]), 78; translation adapted).

2. Sarah is indeed not mentioned in the narrative of the Akedah itself. But there are two observations that have helped me to look for her. Firstly, I turned to the Haftarah (Isaiah) for some clues and found the following:

“… it is the sound of Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be consoled. Etc.” Why should the Haftarah on Rosh Hashana be chosen in such a way as to include this sad prophetic passage of doom? As I will argue the sound of a sad and bereft mother is the sound that we hear when the Shofar is blown. Secondly there is the fact that in the Torah, the death of Sarah is reported immediately after the end of the Akedah. Already the Sages have thought that this must mean something.

There are a number of Midrashim about Sarah’s death, in a number of versions.

The version in Midrash Tanhuma, a medieval and very popular midrash, makes Satan a trickster: “[At the time Isaac was bound], Satan went to Sarah, appearing to her in the form of Isaac. When Sarah saw him, she asked, ‘My son, what did your father do to you?’ He replied, ‘My father took me, led me up hills and down into valleys, until finally he brought me up to the summit of a high and towering mountain, where he built an altar, set out the firewood, bound me upon the altar, and grasped a knife to cut my throat. Had not the Holy One said to him, “Lay not thy hand upon the lad,” I would have been slaughtered.’ Even before Satan finished his tale, Sarah’s soul left her.” Translation in H. N. Bialik and Y. H. Ravnitzky, The Book of Legends: The First Complete Translation of Sefer ha-aggadah, trans. W. G. Braude (New York: Schocken, 1992), 42.

The Midrash about Sarah’s death may be a vehicle for drawing Sarah into the Binding narrative, in which the Bible does not give her any role. It therefore represents a progressive move. But some of the midrashim about Sarah’s death give her an even more central role in terms of the shofar symbolism of Rosh Hashana.

One of the most popular midrashic sermon collections throughout the ages, Pirkei de Rabbi Eliezer, transl. G. Friedlander (New York: Sepher-Hermon Press, 1916, repr. 1981), 233-34, chap. 32, records it as follows: “When Abraham returned from Mount Moriah in peace, the anger of Samael was kindled, for he saw that the desire of his heart to frustrate the offering of our father Abraham had not been realized. What did he do? He went and said to Sarah: ‘Hast thou not heard what has happened in the world?’ She said to him: ‘No.’ He said to her: ‘Thy husband Abraham (editio princeps: your old man) has taken thy son Isaac and slain him and offered him up as a burnt-offering upon the altar. (ed. princeps: And the lad wept, and cried aloud because he could not be saved.)’ She began to weep and cry aloud three times [lit: three weepings], corresponding to the three sustained notes [of the Shofar], and three howlings corresponding to the three disconnected short notes [of the Shofar], and her soul fled, and she died.” [M. Kasher, Encyclopedia of Biblical Interpretation (New York: American Biblical Encyclopedia Society, 1957), 3:169-70, gives a slightly different translation.] Note the emphasis on Sarah’s violent lament, in all its details. Sarah’s lament becomes the tune blown on Rosh haShanah! So yes, the musical instrument is the horn of the ram that was slaugthered instead of Isaac, but it is his mother who sets the tune.

Of course Isaac was not killed in the Genesis narrative of the Binding, but Midrashic and later sources claim that he was indeed killed by Abraham and afterwards revived by God (some suggest he died twice) – this event was taken as proof of the belief in resurrection. See S. Spiegel, The Last Trial: On the Legends and Lore of the Command to Abraham to Offer Isaac as a Sacrifice (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1967). And there are indeed some Midrashim that claim that Sarah did not die of grief, but of excessive joy at seeing her son brought back to life. So perhaps the tune of the Shofar is one of such deep emotion that it is impossible to distinguish grief from joy.

3. Be that as it may, the old midrashim have helped me to see the Akedah as more than just a story of paternal violence. But it is equally important not to hijack the shofar’s tune for women only. I would prefer to think that the tune of the shofar is about the emotional side of each of us, whether man or woman – and that as long as we allow ourselves to listen to the sound of the shofar, we are able to feel compassion (fellow-feeling for another’s suffering) for others.

Shanah Tovah!

Paradoxes of Power and Powerlessness (Ki Tetze)

This Parashah is full of paradoxes. It condones practices unthinkable in modern societies: sexual exploitation of slaves, the death penalty for adultery, stoning the wayward child… These are terrible abuses of power and terrible punishments.

And yet, the Torah sets limits to greed, cruelty, and abuse. The sexually abused slave must be either married or freed. The hanged criminal must be buried before nightfall. The mother bird must not be killed with her chicks.

Another paradoxical feature relates to class. The Torah laws are addressed to the male members of the land- and slave owning class. The commands in 24:14-18: “You shall not abuse a needy and destitute labourer. … You shall not subvert the rights of the stranger or the fatherless; you shall not take a widow's garment in pawn. Remember that you were a slave in Egypt...” is addressed to an audience of men of means.

And yet, these men of means are reminded at every turn that they are parvenus, upstarts: that their ancestors were slaves, and foreigners to boot. These men of means are not aristocrats. There can be no pride in ancient lineage, not claim to possession of the land “from time immemorial”. As Eric Hobsbawm reminds us in The Invention of Tradition, claims “from time immemorial” are not to be taken literally but rather express a balance of forces. The fact that the Torah undercuts any such claims by reminding its readers about the newness of Jewish ownership of land and slaves is therefore significant. It makes any absolute power claim impossible and is a constant invitation to extend democratic principles.

This Shabbat is one of the seven Shabbats of Consolation that lead from the 9^th of Av to Rosh haShanah. On each of them, a Haftarah from Isaiah’s Song of Consolation is read, consoling Israel for its loss of Jerusalem (at the hand of the Assyrians) and foretelling future days of glory. These prophetic portions are unconnected with the Torah portion of the week; rather, they follow an internal dynamic leading from the low of Av to the high of Tishri.

Yet the poetic tone of these prophecies makes it possible to seek out connections. Near the beginning of the Haftarah, Isaiah announces a reversal of fortunes: “For the children of the wife forlorn (or desolate) / Shall outnumber those of the married wife.” The downtrodden will “possess the nations”. The Haftarah paints a picture of great historical optimism and dynamism. But in this very dynamism, there is a hidden warning: There is no security in status and possession. Just as the Jewish people could hope to rise from abjection to power, so it also must not rest in power, for power leads to the very abuses against which the Torah rails. Even in today’s Israel, where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is widening, and where foreign labourers are sometimes exploited, this is a warning to be heeded. And we diaspora Jews can contribute by staying far from smugness.

To adorn, to repair

There is a beautiful custom to hold night-time learning sessions on the eve of Shavuot. These are called "Tikkun", or more fully, "Tikkun Leyl Shavuot". What I realised this year for the first time is how the meaning of this word, its connotations, have changed.
Although a Tikkun is first described in the Zohar in mythical rather than practical terms, the practice of a Tikkun seems to have crystallised in 16th century kabbalistic circles around Joseph Caro (author of the Shulchan Arukh ("The laid table"), the classic compilation of Jewish Law, and Solomon Alkabetz, author of the Friday night hymn Lekha Dodi (see Daniel Matt, "Adorning the "Bride" on the Eve of the feast of weeks", in L. Fine, Judaism in Practice, 2007, pp. 74-80). The practice relies on the Zohar's description of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai "plying Torah" during the night of Shavuot, on what is described as the eve of the wedding day between the Torah and God. The rabbi and his disciples are described as the "companions of the bride", who "adorn the bride" with jewels of Torah. In this context, Tikkun means adornment [of the bride], decoration.
Today we have a rather different understanding of what Tikkun means. If we think of a compound in Hebrew, we think of Tikkun Olam, repairing or healing the world. The concept of Tikkun Olam also goes back to the early modern Kabbalists of Safed, where the ritual and contemplative (and sometimes magical) practices of the kabbalistic initiates were believed to have cosmic powers to bring about the repair of the primordial cracked vessel of the world, and to collect the sparks of divine light from among the darkness. The kabbalists of old held many other Tikkun events during the year. The followers of Shabbetai Zevi were particularly fond of holding Tikkun Chatzot, midnight study sessions.
In modern times, the term has experienced a remarkable revival in the form of social action and activism. Perhaps symptomatically, the magazine Tikkun: a quarterly Jewish critique of politics, culture & society was first published in 1986.
It seems to me that this semantic move from the mystical and celebratory wedding symbolism to social activism is a healthy one. We are no longer confident that the future is a (wedding) party. We are more concerned with the urgent work of social as well as spiritual repair that needs to be done. And communal (rather than individual) study during the silence of the night can have a share in building community for social action.

The Numbered and the Numberless (BaMidbar)

I am always intrigued by the relationship between the Parasha, the weekly Torah portion, and the Haftarah, the portion from the prophetic and historical books of the Bible, which the rabbis designated to be read together with the Torah portion. The Parashah BaMidbar stands at the beginning of the book of Numbers (BaMidbar). The book of Numbers begins programmatically with a strictly ordered census of the Israelites, or to be more precise, of the arms bearing Israelites (women and children not counted) according to their tribes and according to their position in the Israelite camp. Each tribes' and each family's position in relation to the travelling Sanctuary is precisely determined. For the modern reader, for this reader, there is a slightly numbing quality to this hierarchical order.

It is all the more interesting to contemplate the almost dialectical position of the Haftarah in relation to the Parashah. The Haftarah is taken from the prophet Hosea. Whereas the Torah portion insists on strict numbering and listing, Hosea proclaims:

"And the number of the children of Israel shall be like the sand of the sea, which cannot be measured nor numbered."

The grand metaphors of sea sand and heavenly stars of course corresponds rather better to God's promise to Abraham then the reality of military census.

Whereas the Torah portion lists all the tribes separately, and a Midrash even claimed they were divided by navigable rivers, Hosea prizes unity above tribal distinctions:

"And the children of Judah and the children of Israel shall be gathered together, and they shall appoint themselves one head..."

The book of Numbers only counts "all those in Israel who are able to bear arms" (1:3), i.e. only the men of fighting age. Ellen Frankel, in her The Five Books of Miriam, lets "Lilith the Rebel comment": "As a result of this census, the women now disappear from view..." (p. 198)

But I think it is possible to use the Haftarah to undermine this clearcut exclusion. Hosea says:

"And say to your brothers 'Ammi' (my people) and to your sisters 'Ruchamah' (the one who receives [divine] mercy)."

In placing side by side "brothers" and "sisters", Hosea reinstates the integrity of a people consisting of men and women working together - a utopian vision that we are still trying to realise.

The gap between the numbered and the numberless opens a space for reflection, something for modern sensibilities to ponder; it returns social responsibility to the individual reflecting on the Parasha and Haftarah, the two faces of the Torah portion, together.

Menasseh ben Israel (part 3)

Menasseh ben Israel: Printing and Teaching Judaism

This section united imprints from Menasseh’s press and its Christian publishers, in Spanish, Portuguese and Hebrew (with Latin) with those of his Jewish competitors.

Orden de los cincos Tahanioth. Estampado por ordre de los señores Efraim Bueno, y Yonah Abravanel. Amsterdam: Menasseh ben Israel, 5390 [1630].

[2], 222 p; 15 cm; 8vo. Wanting title page. Special Collections Roth Collection 534

A Spanish translation of the prayers for the five “minor” fast days of the year (10^th of Tevet, Ta’nit Esther, 17^th of Tammuz, 9^th of Av, and Tzom Gedaliah). Financed by his friend the physician Bueno (whose portrait was painted by Rembrandt) and his brother-in-law.

Hamishah Humshe Torah: u-Nevi’im rishonim ve-aharonim ve-ketubim; Haftarot mi-kol ha-shanah. Pentateuch with Targum, Five Scrolls and the Haftaroth. Be-Amsterdam: Nidfas be-veit Menasseh ben Israel; Amstelreodami: sumptibus Henrici Laurentii [1631]
128 l [i.e. 256 p], 46 l [i.e. 92 p]; 22 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 111

Printed and corrected in Amsterdam by Menasseh ben Joseph Ben Israel, financed by the Christian publisher Laurentius (active 1602-45) who early saw the export potential of the new high quality Hebrew imprints produced by Menasseh. The Pentateuch and prophetical portions are arranged for the weekly Shabbat readings. The woodcut title page design has been lifted from a

Christian publication, as shown by the Tetragrammaton enclosed in a triangle of light – a motif of Jesuit inspiration also used by Millenarian sects.

Tratado del Temor Divino, extracto del doctissimo libro llamado Ressit hohmá, traduzido nuevamente del Hebrayco, a nuestro vulgar idioma por David hijo de Ishac Coen de Lara. Amstelredam: en casa de Menasseh ben Yosseph ben Ysrael, 5393 [1633]

208 p; 18 cm; 4to. Wanting all after p. 208 [2 pages missing at the end]. Special Collections Roth Collection 889

Reshit Hokhmah (Beginning of Wisdom) was a popular ethical work by the Safed kabbalist Elijah ben Moses de Vidas (? 1518- Hebron 92). In it, he collected all the moral sentences scattered throughout the Talmud, Midrashim, and Zohar. The present Spanish translation is of the first part, concerning the fear of God. Spanish was the learned vernacular, which the Portuguese Conversos had studied at university. The woodcut title page arch is topped by the pelican feeding its young – a Christian symbol of the crucifixion and one of the symbols adopted by the Rosicrucian sect. It was adapted on one of the portals of the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue (1675).

Esrim ve-arba’ah: ve-hem hamishah humshe Torah Nevi’im rishonim ve-aharonim u-Khetuvim. Bible, Old Testament, Hebrew. Be-Amsterdam: be-vet Menasheh ben Yisra’el, [3]98 [1639]; Amstelodami: Sumptibus Joannis Janssonii, 1639

166 l [i.e. 332 p].; c. 17 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 104

Menasseh’s complete Hebrew Bible, not arranged for liturgical use, with a fine engraved titlepage. In this year, Menasseh joined the college of Rabbis of the newly united Sephardi community and was expected to give up printing. Jansonnius (Arnhem 1588 – Amsterdam 1661), the Christian publisher who financed this book with a clear eye on especially the growing Polish market, also printed five Hebrew books on his own account.

Manasseh ben Israel, Thesouro dos dinim: que o povo de Israel, he obrigado saber, e observar composto por Menasseh ben Israel. Amsterdam: [s.n.], 5470 [1710]
Special Collections Roth Collection 635

This work was originally published by the Printer Elijah Aboab, 5405 [1645]. It was dedicated to “Senhores Parnassim deste Kados de Talmud Tora”, that is Menasseh’s employers, with an approbation (permission to print) by Rabbis Saul Levi Mortera (see next item) and David Pardo. The book was intended to help the recently reconverted members of the community to observe laws which were new and in some cases strange to them. As a DYI manual, it is written in the ‘common’ Portuguese.

Saul Levi Mortera, Hamishim derushim yekarim; va-yikra et shemo Giv’at Sha’ul. Amsterdam: Be-vet Imanu’el Benvenisti, 405 [1645]
116 l; 22 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 704

Saul Levi Mortera (Venice 1596-Amsterdam 1660) a senior Amsterdam rabbi, a famed preacher, and a teacher at Keter Torah. In 1656 he chaired the tribunal that excommunicated his former pupil Baruch Spinoza. The 50 sermons in the present work were published by Mortera’s students, who selected them from among a corpus of 500. Immanuel Benvenisti was Menasseh ben Israel’s most formidable competitor in the Hebrew printing business. Between 1641 and 1660 the Benveniste press produced prayer-books, an edition of the Midrash Rabbah, Alfasi’s law code, and the Shulchan Arukh. His woodcut title pages, here displaying Benvenisti’s printer’s mark as a coat of arms displaying a castle and lion (Castile and Leon?) surmounted by a star, were widely imitated in Hebrew printing across Europe.

Menahem Azariah da Fano, Sefer Asarah ma’amarot. she-hiber Menahem Imanu’el; ve-nosaf alav ha-perush Yo’el Mosheh she-hotsi le-or Mosheh ben Shelomoh ha-Levi. [Amsterdam]: Nidpas be-vet Yehud. ben Mordekhai, Shemu’el bar Mosheh ha-Levi, 409 [1649]

158 l [i.e. 316 p]; 20 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 260

This is one of the early works of popular Kabbalah and shows its spread among the Sephardi communities. The “Ten Essays” originate in festival sermons by Menahem Azariah da Fano (1548-Mantua 1620), Italian rabbi, talmudist, and kabbalist. His achievement was to make Lurianic Kabbalah accessible to the common people. With the commentary Yoel Moshe by Moses ben Solomon ha Levi of Frankfurt (here in its first edition), Fano’s Kabbalah became accepted among an Ashkenazi readership. Judah Leib ben Mordekhai Gimpel of Posen and Samuel bar Moses ha Levi were the first Ashkenazi printers in Amsterdam (1648-52). The former had been compositor at both Menasseh ben Israel’s and Immanuel Benvenisti’s presses, Samuel bar Moses ha Levi had been foreman at Benvenisti’s press. So it is hardly surprising that the titlepage is based on Benvenisti’s gate design – even that printer’s lion and tower device reappears.

Solomon Ibn Verga, Shevet Yehudah. Amsterdam: be-vet Imanu’el Benvenisti, 415 [1655]
88 l [i.e. 176 p]; 16 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 357

Ibn Verga (1460-1554), a refugee scholar from Portugal, wrote Sceptre of Judah (alluding to Gen 49:10: “The sceptre shall not depart from Judah…”) as an account of Jewish persecutions, culminating in those of the Iberian Peninsula that he had witnessed himself. He was an eyewitness of the Lisbon massacre of 1506. The work was a bestseller: a Yiddish translation was published in Amsterdam in the fateful year 1648, and a Latin one in 1680. The titlepage features a different gate design, with the familiar coat of arms drawn in by hand.

Menasseh ben Israel (part 2)

Menasseh ben Israel: In the midst of history

In this section, some of the Brotherton Library’s early printed witnesses to Menasseh ben Israel’s mission to England were exhibited. Included were some Christian responses.

Edward Nicholas, Apologia por la noble nacion de los Iudios y hijos de Israel escrita en Ingles por Eduardo Nicholas. En Londres: E impresa en casa de Juan Field, 1649.
[2], 8 l [i.e. 15 p]. Special Collections Roth Collection 723

Translation of: Apology for the honorable nation of the Jews and all the sons of Israel, London: Printed by John Field, 1648 [i.e. 1649]. An interesting example of Spanish printing in London. Nothing is known about Edward Nicholas, who was once thought to be identical with the English statesman Sir Edward Nicholas (1593-1669). Some authorities consider the name a pseudonym, disguising, perhaps, Menasseh ben Israel, because he lists the Apology among his works in the appendix to Vindiciae Judeorum.

Manasseh ben Israel, Mikveh Yisra’el, Esto es, Esperança De Israel: Obra con suma curiosidad conpuesta / por Menasseh Ben Israel ... Trata del admirable esparzimiento de los diez Tribus, y su infalible reduccion con los demas, a la patria... En Amsterdam: En la Imprension de Semuel Ben Israel Soeiro, 5410 [1650]

[7] l, 126 p; 16 cm; 8vo. Special Collections Roth Collection 633

The treatise on the Lost tribes of Israel, allegedly rediscovered in South America, responds to and is preceded by the “Relacion De Aharon Levi, alias, Antonio de Montezinos”. Montezinos and Menasseh had met in Amsterdam in 1644. Montezinos created a sensation with his travel report, which identifed Peru as Ophir, Indian language words as Hebrew, and Indian tribes as Lost Tribes. His “Jewish Indian theory”, given guarded support in Menasseh’s book, was to have a long life in European literature. Samuel ben Israel Soeiro was Menasseh’s son and managed the printing press 1650-52. That Menasseh’s work created a stir at the time is evidenced by the simultaneous English translation: The hope of Israel: written by Menasseh ben Israel, a Hebrew divine, and philosopher. Newly extant, and printed in Amsterdam, and dedicated by the author to the High Court, the Parliament of England, and to the Councell of State. Translated into English, and published by authority. In this treatise is shewed the place wherein the ten tribes at this present are, proved partly by the strange relation of one Anthony Montezinus, a Jew, of what befell him as he travelled over the Mountaines Cordillære, with divers other particulars about the restoration of the Jewes, and the time when… Printed at London: by R.I. for Hannah Allen, at the Crown in Popes-head Alley, 1650; and The Hope of Israel, written by Menasseh ben Israel; an Hebrew divine and philosopher; newly extant and printed in Amsterdam and dedicated by the author to the high court, the Parliament of England, and to the Councell of State; whereunto are added in this second edition some discourses upon the point of the conversion of the Jewes, English translation by Moses Wall, London: Chapman, 1652.

Arise Evans, Light for the Iews: or, The means to convert them: in answer to a book of theirs, called The hope of Israel, written and printed by Manasseth Ben-Israel, chief agent for the Jews here, 1650 ... [etc.]. London: Printed for the author, 1656.

52, [2] p. Special Collections Strong Room Engl. 8vo 1656 EVA

Arise Evans (1607 – after 1660) was a self-proclaimed prophet, first court prophet at the court of Charles I and then at Cromwell’s court. His visions had a strongly biblical flavour. In the present work, he takes up Menasseh’s apocalyptic ideas for missionary purposes.

William Prynne, Short demurrer to the Jewes long discontinued remitter into England: Comprising an exact chronological relation of their first admission into, their ill deportment, misdemeanors, condition, sufferings, oppressions, slaughters, plunders, by popular insurrections, and regal exactions in; and their total, final banishment by judgment and edict of Parliament, out of England, never to return again: collected out of the best historians and records. With a brief collection of such English laws, Scriptures, reasons as seem strongly to plead, and conclude against their readmission into England, especially at this season, and against the general calling of the Jewish nation. With an answer to the chief allegations for their introduction. London: for Edward Thomas dwelling in Green-Arbor, 1656.
2 pts in 1; 4to. Special Collections Roth Collection 778

This tract (which is here presented in its second edition) in the form of the legal instrument of the demurrer (counter pleading) was a hostile response to Menasseh ben Israel’s petition To His Highnesse the Lord protector of the commonwealth of England, Scotland, and Ireland, the humble addresses of Menasseh Ben Israel, a divine, and doctor of physic, in behalf of the Jewish nation, originally published in Amsterdam in 1651 and then London 1655. Menasseh perceived the unique opportunity posed by the reign of the Puritans to reverse the expulsion of 1290. He was familiar with Millenarian tendencies (expectations of the Second Coming) and sought to convince Cromwell that a resettlement of the Jews would hasten universal redemption. In his tract, Prynne (Swanswick 1600-London 1669), a conservative Puritan lawyer and opponent of Cromwell, mingles learning with gross stereotypes. The text was redeployed in 1753 by opponents of Jewish naturalisation.

Manasseh ben Israel, Vindiciae Judeorum, or, A letter in answer to certain questions propounded by a noble and learned gentleman: touching the reproaches cast on the nation of the Jevves; wherein all objections are candidly and yet fully cleared. [London]: Printed by R.D., 1656.

41 p; 20 cm. Special Collections Roth Collection 636

This apologetic work, a defence of the Jewish people against the accusations of Prynne’s Short Demurrer, was to have a profound influence on the Jewish emancipation movement in the 18^th and early 19^th centuries. “A catalogue of such books as have been published by Manasseh ben Israel, in Hebrew” and a list of “Books ready for the presse” are appended at the end.

Margaret Fox, A loving salutation to the seed of Abraham among the Jewes ... And the way of truth opened to them ..., London: Printed for Tho. Simmons, 1656.

[iv], 74, [2] p ; 19 cm ; 4to. Special Collections Birkbeck Library 32.6.

Bound as part of a collection of Fox’s works from the library of Maurice Birkbeck (1734-1816).

Margaret Askew Fell Fox (Dalton-in-Furness 1614 – Swarthmooor 1702) “the mother of Quakerism”, was the author of feminist and missionary treatises. The second edition of this text (first published in English only in 1656, also bound in this volume) in parallel English and Hebrew columns is of particular interest. This collection contains two further works of relevance here: For Manasseth [sic] ben Israel. The call of the Jewes out of Babylon, which is good tidings to the meek, liberty to the captives, and for the opening of the prison doores. London: Printed for Giles Calvert, 1656; and A call unto the seed of Israel, that they may come out of Egypts darkness, and house of bondage, unto the land of rest. Also the righteous law of God justified. With an epistle to all those whose desire are after the truth as it is in Jesus where ever they are scattered. Also twenty five queries to all the worlds priests and people. London: Printed for Robert Wilson, [1668?].

Remembering Menasseh ben Israel (part I)

Menasseh ben Israel, rabbi, scholar, philosopher, diplomat and Hebrew printer, 1604-1657

Earlier last year, I put together a special display

for the annual meeting of the

Hebraica Librarians Group,

at the Brotherton Library,

University of Leeds, 26 April 2007. I thought some of you might like to see it.

2007 marked the 350^th anniversary of the death of Menasseh ben Israel – rabbi, scholar, diplomat and Hebrew printer. Although his mission to Cromwell to re-admit Jews into England remained inconclusive at the time, English Jews consider him the father of their modern-day settlement here. It is fitting that a special display of his works should be mounted at the Brotherton Library, the repository of Cecil Roth’s collection of books and manuscripts. For Roth (London 1899- Jerusalem 1970), honoured as “Friend of the Sephardic Community”, had a special interest in Menasseh ben Israel.

Roth’s monograph A Life of Menasseh ben Israel: Rabbi, Printer, and Diplomat was first published in Philadelphia by the Jewish Publication Society of America in 1934 (reprinted 1975, translated into Hebrew 1960). But Menasseh ben Israel is himself of interest to Hebraica librarians: he revolu-tionised Hebrew printing, made Amsterdam the capital of Hebrew publishing and helped create a new standard of Hebrew typography that became widely known, imitated and pirated as “Defus Amsterdam” (Amsterdam print) and “Otiyot Amsterdam” (Amsterdam letters). What also emerges strikingly is the multilingual nature of his world: Hebrew, Spanish, Portuguese, Latin, Dutch and English.

By the time Roth began his career as Hebraica collector, some of Menasseh’s imprints were already rarissima. It was gratifying to be able to reunite Roth’s rare Menassiana for the first time since they had entered the Brotherton Library 25 years ago, and display them together with treasures from other collections in the same library.

The image above is a portrait of Menasseh ben Israel by Salom Italia, engraved 1642, the original of which is in the Bibliotheca Rosenthaliana in Amsterdam.

From the heart (Va-yakhel)

Parashat Va-yakhel Exodus 35:1 - 38:20

Parashat Va-yakhel continues the saga of the building of the Tabernacle in the Desert.

In a way the theme that opens this Parasha continues that of the one of two weeks ago, when in "Terumah" we heard about the contribution ("terumah") brought by the people. In Va-yakhel ("and [Moses] assembled [the people]") we read again about the gifts that the Israelites contributed.

Take from among you gifts to the Lord; everyone whose heart so moves him shall bring them — gifts for the Lord: gold, silver, and copper; ⁶ blue, purple, and crimson yarns, fine linen, and goats' hair; ⁷ tanned ram skins, dolphin skins, and acacia wood; ⁸ oil for lighting, spices for the anointing oil and for the aromatic incense; ⁹ lapis lazuli and other stones for setting, for the ephod and the breastpiece. (Exodus 35:5-9)

The central passage for me here is the specification "everyone whose heart so moves him". The Hebrew "kol nediv libo" can be understood literally as everyone who is generous of heart. The heart as a source of generous emotion and of freedom is emphasised elsewhere. In Exodus 35:21 we hear that not everyone brought gifts, but only volunteers:

Each person who was ready to volunteer then came forward. [Also] each one who wanted to give brought a donation to God for the making of the Communion Tent, all its necessities, and the sacred vestments.

The central expression here is "kol-ish asher nesa'o libo vechol asher nadvah rucho" - "everyone whom his heart uplifted (or carried) and everyone whose spirit was giving". It is in fact quite hard to decompact the poetry of the Hebrew original here, and translations vary.

A third time is the heart mentioned as the source of generosity:

Men and women, all whose hearts moved them (ha'anashim al-hanashim kol nediv lev), all who would make an elevation offering of gold to the Lord, came bringing brooches, earrings, rings, and pendants — gold objects of all kinds (Exodus 35:22)

In what follows we are told specifically about gifts of jewellery, and perhaps even more interestingly, about the skilled women weavers' contributions. Finally, these voluntary contributions are summed up in similar terms:

Every man and woman, whose heart moved them / whose heart was giving (nadav libam) to bring of all the work, which the Lord had commanded to do by the hand of Moses, the children of Israel brought a willing offering (nedavah) unto the Lord (Exodus 35:29).

Both men and women were generous of heart. That is to say, the universal nature of the generous heart is stressed.

The repeated emphasis that giving comes from the heart or from a spirit of giving is something that we moderns are easily tempted to connect with charities and fundraising. And why not? This Parashah is a good model that encourages us to emulate the generosity of our ancestors in a modern context of global responsibility.

If one looks at the Parashah as a historian, what comes across strongly is the contrast between Moses' "building campaign" and Pharaoh's building campaigns. Where the Pharaoh's great cities Pithom and Ramses were built by slave labour, including Hebrew slave labour, Moses builds something less permanent and stable, the Tabernacle, using voluntary contributions.

This characteristic of respecting free choice is highlighted if we compare the Parashah with the Haftorah (I Kings 7:40-50). Here we hear about Solomon's Temple building and Hiram the master builder.

On the face of it, the parallelism is hardly original. Where the Parashah treats the building of the Tabernacle, the Haftorah treats the building of the Temple. What could be more predictable? And yet there is a subtle difference. It is the difference between freedom and compulsion.

Solomon builds, and Hiram builds for Solomon just like Bezalel built for Moses:

So Hiram finished all the work that he had been doing for King Solomon on the House of the Lord. I Kings 7:41)

Although Solomon was no Pharaoh, this is clearly a project controlled by a centralised monarchy, and there is little evidence of free choice and generosity of the heart. The Temple is very definitely one king's project, and despite Hiram's honourable mention Solomon is not going to share the glory with a multitude of "sponsors". In that way the Tabernacle is more reminiscent of the name plaques in synagogues, where contributions by diverse donors are meticulously listed for commemoration.

I'd argue that Moses was not only an astute comunal politician who knew how to coopt his "sponsors". He was also a gifted, perhaps prophetic educator. He understood that a project owned by many will be cherished by many, whereas a top-down royal project may not outlast the days of the monarchy. And so it was: the temple, alas, was destroyed, but the migratory Tabernacle, precious yet unstable, the work of many hands and even more hearts, still wanders with us.