Front Matter Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989) Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486281 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:30 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
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AJS VOL.
XIV
SPRING
NO.
1
1989
TheJournalof the Associationfor JewishStudies
KEVIE
VolumeXIV, Number 1, Spring 1989
ASSOCIATION FOR JEWISH STUDIES CAMBRIDGE, MASSACHUSETTS
AJS Review EDITOR:
Robert Chazan, New York University ASSOCIATE EDITORS:
Seymour Feldman, Rutgers University Robert Goldenberg, State University of New York at Stony Brook Paula E. Hyman, Yale University David C. Jacobson, Wesleyan University Benjamin C. I. Ravid, Brandeis University S. David Sperling, Hebrew Union CollegeJewish Institute of Religion CORRESPONDING EDITOR:
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Jonathan Hecht The AJS Review (ISSN 0364-0094) is published twice annually by the Association for Jewish Studies. Manuscripts for consideration should be sent to Prof. Robert Chazan, Skirball Dept. of Hebrew and Judaic Studies, 51 Washington Square South, New York, N. Y., 10012. Books for review should be sent to Prof. Michael Stanislawski, Dept. of History, Columbia University, N. Y., N. Y. 10027 ? 1989 by the Association for Jewish Studies MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
AJS REVIEW THE JOURNAL OF THE ASSOCIATION
FOR JEWISH STUDIES
VOLUME XIV, NUMBER 1, SPRING, 1989
Articles 1
DAVID KRAEMER
Scripture Commentary in the Babylonian Talmud: Primary or Secondary Phenomenon? 17
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ Coffee, Coffeehouses, and the Nocturnal Rituals of Early Modern Jewry
47
BURTON L. VISOTZKY
Prolegomenon to the Study of Jewish-Christianities in Rabbinic Literature 71
Book Reviews
95
Collected Studies
99
Books Received Hebrew Articles
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Publication of this volume of the AJS Review has been made possible by grants from the National Foundation for Jewish Culture, the Lucius N. Littauer Foundation, the S. H. and Helen R. Scheuer Family Foundation, and the Dorot Foundation. The Association is grateful for their support and encouragement.
Scripture Commentary in the Babylonian Talmud: Primary or Secondary Phenomenon? Author(s): David Kraemer Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 1-15 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486282 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:30 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
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SCRIPTURECOMMENTARY IN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD: PRIMARY OR SECONDARY PHENOMENON? by DAVID KRAEMER
Virtually without exception, the Bavli is described by its students as a commentary on the Mishnah. This definition is such a commonplace that it is difficult to imagine the need to test or defend it. Its accuracy seems so selfevident that the question "what is the Bavli?" is itself rarely, if ever, asked. But even if the definition is correct (and this has recently been challenged; see below), this does not mean that scholars are exempt from testing
it, if only to offer it anew. The task of proposingan adequatedefinitionof the Bavli is, despite all appearances, not a simple one. The text is extra-
ordinarilyvast, and becauseof its vastnessit is often difficultto graspmore than its details. But it is precisely such a grasp that is necessary before a definition can be offered. The challenge, therefore, is to seek the large structures upon which the Bavli is erected, requiring the sort of reading to which the document is perhaps least well suited. Despite its difficulty, the exercise of definition promises much. If we describe a document we begin to gain access to those who composed it. Who were they? What was important to them? How did they view the world? Choices of subject and form are ideological choices, and so inquiry into these and other literary considerations will yield explicit evidence regarding the broad ideological assumptions of a document's authors. Furthermore, My gratitude is due to Baruch Bokser and Leonard Gordon for their kind suggestions in the revision of this paper.
1
2
DAVID KRAEMER
the more we are able to nuance a description, the more insight will be gained into the community that produced a given document. Though a broad definition might appear adequate, the substrata of details must be probed as well. For these reasons, the Bavli ought now to be subjected to fresh studies of description and definition. Being the grandest and most complete expression to emerge from Babylonian Judaism in late antiquity, its testimony to the nature of that Judaism is without parallel. Its pages embody the sinew and spirit of its community and age, and its definitions exemplify, to a significant extent, the self-definitions of that same community. It is only through describing, and thereby understanding, this document that the Judaism of that period and place may truly be grasped. But in this instance definition promises even more. By gaining a fuller understanding of the Bavli as a religious and intellectual composition, something may also be said about the communities into which it was received. The Bavli became, of course, the foundation document for virtually all of (rabbinic) Judaism to follow. What made it so influential and convincing? Was its success merely political, or is there something in the power of its ideas and the design of its composition that accounts for its ultimately universal reception in late antique and medieval Judaism? Having framed the question this way, a response must also account for the Bavli's "competitor," the Yerushalmi. Both are, after all, understood to be commentaries on the Mishnah. But the communities that produced them were hardly identical. In order to distinguish the Judaism of early-fifthcentury Palestine from that of sixth-century Babylonia, it is necessary to seek the characteristics by which the Yerushalmi and Bavli are distinguished from one another. Furthermore, if there is interest in comprehending the forces that cause a document of this sort to be received as authoritative, it is imperative to ask why the Bavli ultimately came to be preferred. What, if anything, makes the Bavli unique? It is in recognition of precisely these issues and questions that Jacob Neusner defined the program of his recent book on the Bavli, Judaism: The Classical Statement.' His findings in that study are of extraordinary note. Based upon his taxonomy of "units of discourse" in tractates Sukkah, Sotah, and Sanhedrin in both Talmuds, Neusner concludes that the authors of the Bavli chose, when framing that document, not only to follow the 1. Chicago and London, 1986.
SCRIPTURE COMMENTARY IN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD
3
order of the Mishnah and to compose a commentary upon it (as had been the case in the Yerushalmi), but to allow Scripture, as well, to form the organizational outline upon which the Bavli's commentary would be based.2 In significant proportion the Bavli is also a Scripture commentary, Neusner claims, and its previous characterizations now require significant revision. If Neusner is correct, then our understanding of the Judaism that produced the Bavli must also undergo revision. Briefly, both Scripture and the Mishnah having been posited as its foundation, the Bavli will now be seen as the definitive summa of classical Judaism, and this not merely on account of historical accident, but by design. It will be the comprehensive synthesis of all of rabbinic Judaism that preceded, including Midrash, Mishnah, and Gemara. It might even be suggested that this redactional choice mirrors an ideological choice to equate written and oral Torah, an equation which, as Neusner has shown, was made explicitly (that is, by use of the term "oral Torah," in full) in the Bavli for the very first time.3 But Neusner's conclusions require careful evaluation, particularly since the sample upon which he bases his conclusions does not uniformly speak in his support. Distinguishing "Scripture units of discourse" from all others, including those that employ Scripture to comment directly on Mishnah, Neusner shows that in tractate Sotah, 32.1 percent of the total units of discourse are based on Scripture, in Sanhedrin 35.3 percent are, but in Sukkah, only 2.9 percent of the total address Scripture independent of Mishnah.4 It is this latter number that requires that we proceed with caution. Why ought we to suppose that Sukkah is anomalous and that Sotah and Sanhedrin are typical of the Bavli? Perhaps both are representative of a type that appears in equivalent proportions, in which case the claims for the whole will have to be phrased more modestly. Or perhaps, in the end, it will turn out that Sanhedrin and Sotah are less typical, and though they might include significant Scripture commentaries, this is not true of the Bavli as a whole. There is nothing in the data that Neusner adduces, as far as I can see, to indicate which of these possibilities is more likely. Until we make this
2. See Neusner, pp. 223 and 233. 3. See Torah: From Scroll to Symbol in Formative Judaism (Philadelphia, 1985), pp. 144 f. The equation is also made in the Yerushalmi, as Neusner shows, but the explicit phrase "oral Torah" does not appear there; see pp. 75-77. 4. See Neusner, Judaism, pp. 96-100.
4
DAVID KRAEMER
determination, it seems premature to argue for a total revision of the "traditional" wisdom. It is not necessary to actually replicate Neusner's procedure for a substantial portion of the Bavli to evaluate the reliability of his sample. There are other ways to test the likelihood that either Sotah and Sanhedrin, on the one hand, or Sukkah, on the other, are/is more typical of the Bavli as a whole. One way-tedious but nevertheless available-would be simply to count the total number of scriptural citations per tractate (or per page in a given tractate) for a significant proportion of the Bavli. If it turned out that Sotah and Sanhedrin have a significantly higher proportion than most other tractates, then we would have to conclude that Sukkah is more likely to reflect the norm. If, on the other hand, it turned out that Sukkah has a significantly lower proportion, then we would have to favor Sotah and Sanhedrin as normal. I have not conducted such an accounting (nor am I aware that anyone else has), but I have reason to believe, based upon other data, that the former is the case, and not the latter. It is these data that I will present below. In earlier research5 I conducted a detailed analysis of the nature of the traditions attributed to the most prominent amoraic sages of the first four generations6 (Rav, Samuel, Johanan, Resh Laqish,7 Judah, Huna, Nachman, Sheshet, Hisda, Joseph, Rabba, Abbaye, and Rava). In the course of this analysis I enumerated traditions that articulated legal opinions, those that interpreted earlier rabbinic texts (usually either Mishnah or baraitot), and those that interpreted Scripture.8These latter traditions can form the
5. For the primary results of this research. see "Stylistic Characteristics of Amoraic Literature" (Ph.D. diss. Jewish Theological Seminary, 1984), hereafter cited as SCAL. 6. The "generations" are conventions, and there is some difference in arrangement among scholars. The sages to whom we are referringflourished in the mid-third to the mid-forth centuries. 7. The statistics for this sage have been misplaced, hence his absence from the following tables. His contribution was not as large as that of many others, however, and the sample is large enough that this will not affect the outcome. 8. These traditions were the "apodictic" traditions attributed to these sages, and not statements found in argumentational exchanges. Argumentational contributions are extremely rare in the earliest generations, and are considerably fewer in number than apodictic traditions even in the later generations that I include. Furthermore, comments on Scripture are rare in the argumentation. For this reason, our choice of data can be considered reliable. See SCAL, chaps. ii-iv.
SCRIPTURE COMMENTARYIN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD
5
basis of an accurate test for the representativeness of the tractates under consideration. The reliability of a test based upon this body of amoraic traditions can be justified in this way: First, a quick review of the texts that embody the majority of Scripture units of discourse in Neusner's study will indicate that amoraic traditions, of which those of these sages form a sizable proportion, are relatively prominent in the samples. Their contribution is supplemented significantly only by baraitot, and in a far more limited way by interpretations of the anonymous gemara. By way of a concrete example, in the lengthy section of Scripture units of discourse at Sotah 9b-14a (M. Sotah 1:8-9), of a total of eighty-seven units delineated by Neusner, only five are clearly attributable to the anonymous gemara,9 and four are more difficult to identify.'0 All other units are formed around either amoraic traditions (the vast majority) or baraitot. In these, the anonymous gemara only comments modestly, for the most part, and in all respects is subservient to the identified (amoraic or tannaitic) tradition." Because of its prominence, therefore, the amoraic contribution may be taken to be representative of the whole. Furthermore, though my sample includes not only traditions that treat Scripture independently of Mishnah, but also those that employ Scripture in the service of Mishnah, this difference should not be taken to invalidate the relevance of the sample. Since finding a source for Mishnah in Scripture is a general objective in the Talmud's Mishnah exegesis, we must assume that Scripture units related to Mishnah are distributed with relative uniformity through the Bavli (or at least with greater uniformity than Scripture units that are independent of Mishnah). In fact, Neusner's own analysis supports this conclusion. In his detailing of the use of Scripture in Sotah, units independent of Mishnah are grouped in few distinct sections (pp. 96-97). Units that elaborate Mishnah, on the other hand, relate to almost all Mishnah paragraphs (pp. 88-89). This being the case, in order more closely to approach Neusner's sample we may, at the outset, subtract a certain number from the base of units found in each tractate. What this means is that discrepancies between tractates should be considered to be even more 9. Nos. xxxiii, xlviii, Ivii, Iviii, lxxiv. 10. Nos. xl, li, lxiii, lxviii-the language of composition of these units makes it likely that they are simply baraitot that are not identified as such. 11. Professor D. Halivni, in personal consultation, has confirmed this conclusion on the basis of his own studies with respect to the rest of the Bavli. The anonymous gemara rarely generates comment on Scripture independently.
DAVID KRAEMER
6
Table1 Total Number of Comments on Scripture, by Tractate Name of Sage
Ber. Shab. Eruv. Pes. R.H. Yom. SUK. Bez. Meg. Tan. M.K. Hag. 12
27
7
5
5
6
3
3
18
4
4
7
Samuel
9
7
4
3
0
3
0
1
8
1
0
3
Johanan
Ray
31
25
7
17
13
18
4
0
18
18
3
3
Judah
3
4
1
1
1
3
0
0
1
3
1
0
Huna
5
3
2
0
1
2
2
0
3
1
2
2
Nachman
3
0
1
3
0
1
0
0
3
1
0
0
Sheshet
2
2
0
0
0
1
0
0
1
0
0
0
Hisda
3
4
4
2
2
1
1
1
1
1
0
0
Joseph Rabba
5
0
0
3
1
2
0
1
2
1
0
1
1
3
1
2
0
0
1
1
2
0
0
0
Abbaye Rava
3
2
1
7
2
6
5
0
2
2
2
1
5
10
8
13
3
9
4
0
25
5
3
4
82
87
36
56
28
52
20
7
84
37
15
21
Total
Yev. Ket. Git. Kid. SOT. Ned. Naz. B.K. B.M. B.B. SAN. Shev. Ray Samuel
46
2
3
17
4
23
89
2
18
0
18
9
1
2
9
4
0
0
2
26
8
7
10
4
0
1
0
2
15
6
1
5
2
1
4
Johanan
7
3
5
6
Judah
2
3
2
1
0
2
3
5
12
Huna
2
4
1
1
2
0
1
3
0
3
7
0
Nachman
0
3
0
3
3
1
0
1
0
3
11
0
Sheshet
0
0
0
0
1
1
0
1
0
1
2
0
Hisda
4
4
1
1
6
2
0
1
3
3
8
1
Joseph Rabba
0
1 0
1 1
0
1 2
2 0
1 3
5 2
0
2
1 2
0
3
1 0
0
Abbaye Rava
3 27
3 4
1 1
4 8
2 14
0 11
1 4
3 15
1 10
4 11
13 28
5 7
Total
65
32
17
33
83
41
14
41
27
69
246
21
0
7
SCRIPTURE COMMENTARY IN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD
Mak. A.Z. Hor. Zev. Men. Hul. Bek. Arak. Tem. Ker. Me'. Nid. Rav Samuel
3
9
0
4
1
6
8
2
2
1
0
2
1
1
0
4
0
12
1
3
1
0
0
3
Johanan
1
6
3
15
7
9
2
4
1
2
2
5
Judah
0
1
0
1
2
0
1
1
0
0
0
0
Huna
0
2
0
6
2
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
Nachman
0
1
0
1
0
1
0
0
1
0
0
0
Sheshet
0
1
0
0
2
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
Hisda
0
1
1
4
4
6
2
0
0
1
0
1
Joseph Rabba
0
1
0
2
2
1
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
1
4
0
1
1
1
0
0
0
0
3
2
3
9
2
2
6
1
2
4
0
2
2
9
7
14
8
15
15
9
8
5
1
4
10
34
15
64
30
53
36
21
15
14
3
19
Abbaye Rava Total
extreme than they appear. As can easily be seen in table 1, even as a preliminary test the numbers suggest that Sotah and Sanhedrin should not be taken to be representative. A number of things may be said about the numbers shown in the tables. First, there is some variation based upon the individual contributor.'2 Joseph, for example, contributes relatively few scriptural comments. The same may be said for Judah, though his contribution on Sanhedrin is quite pronounced. Johanan, on the other hand, is rather prolific in this area, though his traditions are especially preserved in tractates from Mo'ed. Second, earlier sages seem to have contributed more than later sages, but the fact that Rava is an exception suggests that the most crucial factor is the total quantity of a sage's contribution (Rava and Rav are the most prolific 12. I do not assume that traditions attributed to a particular sage were necessarily composed by that sage. That is in no way necessary for the data herein examined to be deemed reliable for present purposes. Even if the attributions are an absolute fiction (which I do not assume), they may still be used as a test for the distribution of Scripture comments through different Bavli tractates, for the reasons that I described above. The language I use below in reference to these attributions is more literal merely for purposes of brevity.
8
DAVID KRAEMER
sages in the Bavli, followed by Johanan). In any case, the general picture, by tractate, comes through quite clearly. Both Sotah and Sanhedrin are obviously in the upper end of scriptural units, and are perhaps even exceptional. This certainly seems to be the case for Sanhedrin, which, even given its length, preserves scriptural comments in a quantity well above other tractates (see table 2). The same, I would argue, is the case with Sotah, which, despite its moderate length, nevertheTable2 Total Number of Scriptural Comments Attributed to Sages Accounted by Tractate
No. of CommentsTractate
1-9 10-19 20-29 30-39 40-49 50-59 60-69
Bezah,Me'ilah MoedKatan,Nazir,Gittin,Makkot,Horayot,Temurah,Keritot,Niddah Sukkah,Rosh Hashana,Hagigah,B.M., Shevuot,Arakhin Eruvin,Taanit,Ketubot,Kiddushin,A.Z., Menachot,Bekhorot Nedarim,B.K. Pesachim,Yoma,Hullin Yevamot,B.B.,Zevachim
70-79
-
80-89 Berachot,Shabbat,Megillah,Sotah 90+ Sanhedrin
less includes more such traditions than nearly any other tractate, including many which greatly exceed it in length. Berachot is similar to Sotah in both quantity and length, and Megillah, though relatively short, includes a great many comments on Scripture. But these four (Shabbat, when adjusted for its length, will not be equivalent to the others) are obviously out of the ordinary. Accounting for their respective lengths, in comparison to other tractates, will only reinforce this conclusion. In table 3 I consider the number of scriptural comments by the sages listed in table 1 per page of printed Bavli text. Of course this is not a precise measure, but with a few exceptions (that I have indicated) the amount of text per printed page is approximately equivalent over the whole, and for purposes of such a comparison we are certainly within the realm of reason.
SCRIPTURE
COMMENTARY
IN THE BABYLONIAN
TALMUD
9
Table3 Number of Scriptural Comments per Page of Printed Bavli Text ( Vilna Edition) Tractate Ber. Shab. Eruv. Pesachim R.H. Yoma
No. ofpages No. of comments perpage 64+ 157 105 121 35 88
1.29/1 0.55/1 0.34/1 0.46/1 0.8/1 0.59/1
Sukkah
56
0.36/1
Bezah Megillah Ta'anit M.K. Chag. Yev. Ket. Ned. Nazir Sotah Gittin Kid. B.K. B.M. B.B. Sanh. Shev. Makkot A.Z. Horayot Zev. Men. Hullin Bechorot Arakhin Temurah Ker. Me'ilah Niddah
40 32 31 29 27 122 112 916649+ 90 82 119 119 176113+ 49 24 76 14 120 110 142 61 34 34 28 22+ 73
0.17/1 2.6/1 1.2/1 0.51/1 0.77/1 0.53/1 0.28/1 0.45/1 0.21/1 1.6/1 0.19/1 0.4/1 0.34/1 0.23/1 0.39/1 2.2/1 0.43/1 0.42/1 0.45/1 1.0/1 0.53/1 0.27/1 0.37/1 0.59/1 0.62/1 0.44/1 0.5/1 0.13/1 0.24/1
Note: + or - indicateswhetherpagesshouldbe addedor subtractedin orderto accoutfor differencesof quantityof text per printedpage.
DAVID KRAEMER
10
Adjusted for the length of the tractate, again the exceptional nature of Sotah and Sanhedrin (as well as Berachot and Megillah) can be seen. These are the only tractates (along with Ta'anit, which, because of its brevity, finds its proportion a little skewed) in which the ratio of scriptural comments per page is greater than 1/ 1. In particular, the ratio for Sanhedrin is noteworthy because one would expect, on account of its length, that its ratio would be more even (much as the ratio for Megillah is higher because of its brevity). In fact, the majority of tractates have a ration of 0.5/1 or less, and in light of these data, it appears more likely that Sukkah represents the norm, while Sotah and Sanhedrin are distinct from the norm. Another measure confirms the same conclusion. In general, the number of non-Scripture-related traditions contributed by the sages listed above is far greater than those that are Scripture-related. It will be of interest to consider whether this is the case in the tractates that we have termed exceptional. I have chosen, for illustration, those sages whose contribution to the scriptural comments is most prolific. (Four other tractates will serve for a Table4 Number of Scripture Comments Compared with Other Traditions (Law or Legal Commentary) Name of
Exceptional
No. of comments
Other
No. of comments
Sage
tractates
perpage
tractates
perpage
Rav
Berakhot Megillah Sotah Sanhedrin
12/42 18/15 18/16 46/36
Sukkah Eruvin Kiddushin Hullin
3/34 7/81 5/39 6/82
Johanan
Berakhot Megillah Sotah Sanhedrin
31/49 18/11 26/10 89/49
Sukkah Eruvin Kiddushin Hullin
4/23 7/59 6/34 9/114
Rava
Berakhot Megillah Sotah Sanhedrin
5/49 25/27 14/8 28/85
Sukkah Eruvin Kiddushin Hullin
4/45 8/58 8/49 15/75
SCRIPTURE COMMENTARY IN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD
11
comparison. If this same accounting were to be conducted in all tractates, it would be easily demonstrated that the numbers for these tractates are far more typical.) As shown in table 4, while there is some individual variation, it is certain, again, that the tractates that we have previously defined to be exceptional are in fact just that. They are the only tractates in which the contributions of major amoraic sages comprise an equal or greater quantity of scriptural comments. In other tractates, such traditions do not even begin to approach the number of legal or legal-commentary traditions. The norm, again it seems clear, is closer to Sukkah, and not to Sotah, Sanhedrin, Berachot, or Megillah. These latter, rather, are not typical, but are, with relation to the Bavli as a whole, out of the ordinary. For this conclusion to stand, it is not necessary that we be able to suggest why these tractates admitted different principles of overall composition. Even so, if we are able to venture a suggestion or two concerning why Sanhedrin and Sotah are out of the ordinary, we will have gone some distance in explaining why the authors of these texts chose to set for themselves a task that was distinct, at times, from the one pursued in the rest of the Bavli. What, then, might the explanation be? The answer to this question would require a much lengthier study, but in a preliminary way we may suggest this: There is something about these tractates (what, we shall consider below) that generates the inclusion of usually lengthy, but quite distinct, excurses on Scripture. For example, something in Megillah elicited the inclusion in the latter part of chapter 1 of a lengthy commentary on parts of the "scroll" (megillah) of Esther, as well as other related scriptural texts. Notably, when one eliminates the number of scriptural comments attributed to Rav, Johanan, and Rava that are found in this block of text (O10b-17a), the number of scriptural comments in the tractate (attributed to the sages considered, out of a preliminary total of sixty-one) is only sixteen-far more typical of the Bavli in general. These blocks are in fact relatively unusual in the Bavli, and they are by no means distributed throughout. Rather, they are to be found, for the most part, in precisely the tractates that we have defined as exceptional. What then about these tractates precipitated the inclusion of these larger blocks devoted to scriptural exegesis? It seems most likely, when we examine the Mishnah paragraphs to which these texts are connected, that there is something in the character of the Mishnah that determined, for the most
12
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part, where these blocks were to be included. This may be demonstrated in a number of ways, including referenceto the very numbers that Neusner gives. Distinguishing his "Scripture units of discourse" by their relationship to the "larger redactional purpose" of the gemara, Neusner lists those units of discourse that illustrate "a point of law or theology in the antecedent analytical composition" and those that are "autonomous of the point of law or theology in the antecedent analytical context" (pp. 102-4). In Sotah only 6 percent of the total units of discourse are fully autonomous Scripture units, in Sukkah only 1.2 percent, and in Sanhedrin (more significantly) 17.6 percent. In other words, in only a minority of cases does the Scripture unit of discourse serve needs that are totally independent of the Mishnah's agenda. In all other cases, even if it does not relate to the Mishnah directly, its inclusion is nevertheless generated by a "point of law or theology" that is itself directly related to the Mishnah. And even if we grant that in Sanhedrin Scripture is often addressed as a wholly independent focus of commentary, the 17.6 percent of its units that are fully autonomous Scripture units will still not allow us to claim that the Bavli is a Scripture commentary in the same measure that it is a Mishnah commentary. A further demonstration of the same conclusion will result from considering directly the nature of the Mishnah at hand. Following, I have singled out those mishnaic portions which, by Neusner's accounting, have attracted the most Scripture units. Attention to their content is, with a few exceptions, telling. Sotah 1:1-2. Beginning of the discussion of the "jealousy" ceremony for the suspected wife. 1:8-9. An application of the "measure for measure" principle of justice to several biblical figures. Proof-texts are quoted. 7:1-6. Things to be recited in any tongue or in the holy tongue. Mishnah quotes proof-texts. 8:1. Same as above. 9:5-6. Ceremony for the "breaking of the neck of the heifer." Again, quotation from Scripture. 9:11-13. An accounting of the diminution of God's presence in this world, and of the world's quality, over the course of time. Explicit statement of rabbinic theology.
SCRIPTURE
COMMENTARY
IN THE BABYLONIAN
TALMUD
13
Sukkah 4:9-10. The "water-pouring" celebration. Sanhedrin 1:1-6. The number of judges required for different cases. Proof-texts are quoted. 4:5. Warning to witnesses in capital cases. Discussion of meaning of creation of Adam. Quotation of scriptural texts. 6:2. Midrash in the Mishnah. Biblical figures and proof-texts. 6:4-6:6. Execution. God regrets the loss of life of the wicked and righteous. Text quoted. 7:5-6. Blasphemer; worshipper of idols. 8:2. The "rebellious son"; proof-text. 11(10):1-3. Those with portions in the world-to-come and those excluded from the world-to-come. Proof-texts. In most of these cases, there is something about the Mishnah itself that is sufficiently unusual or provocative to have generated the inclusion of the scriptural block. To begin with, many of these quote two or more verses of Scripture in close proximity, a phenomenon that is rare in the Mishnah. Some tractates are entirely devoid of this phenomenon, such as Eruvin or Ketubot, and most others do so on only one or two occasions. Sotah and Sanhedrin, which include texts that are dense with quotations from Scripture, stand apart in this regard, and it is reasonable to propose that this factor alone might engender the scriptural echo in the Bavli. But the presence of scriptural quotations is only one element of a larger phenomenon, for these quotations tend to cluster around topics of particular interest in the rabbinic corpus. The matter of divine justice and its relation to biblical figures (and, by extension, to others) is the central theme at the beginning of Sotah. Rabbinic "historiography" is the theme at its end (where the conclusions, speaking of God's gradual withdrawal from contact with humanity, are in tension with the beginning of the tractate). Sanhedrin's discussion of the death penalty and of the value of human life, in connection with the model of Adam, is unusual in form and content for the Mishnah, and again is of unique interest in defining rabbinic ideology. The "rebellious son" is a difficult institution in the rabbinic world, and the Mishnah relating to it is usually dense in midrash halacha. Finally, the discussion of the world-to-
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come is not only unusual in form, but it also, of course, holds a crucial place in the rabbinic canon. In order to test the part played by the Mishnah and its precise characteristics in attracting Scripture units, it is instructive to consider the whole of Mishnah Sanhedrin and the characteristics of its individual parts, and to compare this description with the presence or absence of Scripture units in the gemara. In all of Mishnah Sanhedrin, the only texts that quote two or more verses of Scripture in close proximity are as follows: 1:1-6 (specifically 4 and 6), 2:4,'3 4:5, 6:2, 8:2, 8:4, and all of chapter 10(11). It is in connection with these Mishnah texts, and these alone, that the clusters of Scripture units of discourse that Neusner describes are to be found. That is not to say that they are all accompanied by such a cluster (2:4 and 8:4 are not). But that is not essential to the argument. What is crucial is that no text outside of these is accompanied by one. And even if elsewhere an occasional Scripture cluster is to be found in proximity to a Mishnah that does not share these features, deeper analysis would still probably yield, in many cases, less obvious but crucial connections to the Mishnah. Be that as it may, it is clear that the nature of the Mishnah may not be dismissed. At the very least, the nature of the Mishnah is highly influential in determining whether a cluster of Scripture units will accompany it in the gemara. On the basis of what we have seen, we have good reason to doubt whether Sotah and Sanhedrin, as opposed to Sukkah, can be considered representative of the Bavli as a whole. It appears likely, rather, that Sukkah is more typical, and that Sotah and Sanhedrin, in their inclusion of extended blocks of commentary on Scripture, are less so. This being the case, it is unnecessary to revise totally what I referred to earlier as the "traditional wisdom," that is, that the Bavli is primarily a commentary on and supplement to the Mishnah. What is necesssary, given the material that Neusner has drawn to our attention, is to add a footnote-to keep in mind that, despite the Bavli's general organizing principle, there are nevertheless relatively unusual but still significant blocks of text that follow the direction of Scripture and not of Mishnah. Scripture is only secondary as an independent concern of the Bavli, but it is one that should not be ignored. 13. Depending upon the reading of the Mishnah, 3:7 may or may not quote two. In any case, the two that might be quoted are nearly identical, rendering them, for present purposes, a single text.
SCRIPTURE COMMENTARY IN THE BABYLONIAN TALMUD
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This means,to beginwith, that the Bavli,like the Yerushalmi,definesits task to be the broad explicationof Mishnah.Its purposeand directionare largelydictatedby that text, and, with some exceptions,the Mishnah'sdisplacementof Scriptureas the focus of extendedinquiryis sustainedin its pages.This is, however,no less profounda move than would havebeenthe case if Mishnahand Scriptureservedside by side in the Bavli;whichis more radicalafter all-implied equation or explicit displacement? On the other hand, these conclusionsalso suggestthat the horizonsof inquiry of the Bavli's authors were wider than those of their Palestinian counterparts.They were willing, from time to time, to divergefrom the directionsoutlinedin the Mishnah,and this independenceis reflectiveof the spiritof the documentas a whole.For evenwhenthe Mishnahis the spineof the Bavli's deliberation,the precise programthat it pursuesis wholly its own. The virtuositywith whichthis programis addressed,and the painstaking, convincingmannerin whichit is presented,may verywell be at the root of the Bavli's final triumph. JewishTheological Seminary New York,N.Y.
Coffee, Coffeehouses, and the Nocturnal Rituals of Early Modern Jewry Author(s): Elliott Horowitz Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 17-46 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486283 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:30 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
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COFFEE,COFFEEHOUSES, AND THE NOCTURNAL RITUALS OF EARLY MODERN JEWRY by ELLIOTTHOROWITZ
Although religious history has traditionallyconcerneditself with the transcendentdimensionin humanlife, and social historywith the mundane, the latterapproachcan also be usedto illuminatethe ways in whichreligion worksitself out on the socialplane.In fact, it mightbe arguedthatinquiries of this sortshouldoccupya prominentplaceon the agendaof any socialand religioushistory of the Jews. Among historiansof the Annalesschool, for whom the study of materiallife was long consideredthe backboneof historicalinquiry,therehas beena discerniblemove in recentyearstowardthe studyof religiouslife, especiallyin its popularforms.Whereas,for example, previousvolumesin the valuableJohns Hopkinsseriesof "Selectionsfrom the Annales"were devotedto such topics as food and drinkin history,the one publishedin 1982 was entitled, significantly,Ritual, Religionand the Sacred.
As that volume well illustrates,however,the historianneed not choose betweenthe social and the spiritual.Following an approachI have elsewherecalled "the social historyof piety,"'an attemptshallherebe madeto 1. Elliot Horowitz, "Jewish Confraternities in Seventeenth Century Verona: A Study in the Social History of Piety" (Ph.D. diss., Yale University, 1982). Some of the material in this article appeared there in a preliminary form. Later versions were presented at the World Congress of Jewish Studies in Jerusalem in August 1985, and at Indiana University in February 1986. I thank Professors Robert Bonfil, Lawrence Fine, Joseph Hacker, S. Z. Leiman, and Kenneth Stow for their helpful comments and suggestions.
17
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integrate these two domains by studying the relations between the spread of a stimulant which introduced far-reaching changes in both individual habits and social norms and the spread of Jewish religious rites involving nocturnal wakefulness. The suggestion is not thereby intended that religious developments always have a social "explanation," but rather, that they always occur within particular social and material contexts (which is not to exclude the cultural) in which they may be embedded to a greater or lesser degree, and in which they consequently make more "sense" than in others. The question of the fit between a religious ritual and the particular set of circumstances in which it arose shall be addressed here, therefore, less from the point of view of etiology than from that of transportability-whether across cultural borders or geographical ones. Where coffee spread it extended the range of possibilities for making use of the night hours, whether for purposes pious or profane (and, as we will see, these were not mutually exclusive). Where it did not, the night remained considerably less malleable and less susceptible to human initiative. The attribution of a historical role to a beverage such as coffee is less startling than might appear at first glance and certainly less original. More than a quarter of a century ago (in an article that was later to be incorporated in the collective volume Food and Drink in History) Jean Leclant observed that "both the history of ideas and the history of customs" could profit from an inquiry into the place of coffee and coffeehouses in seventeenth-century Paris. In doing so he followed a tradition in French scholarship stretching back, as he indicated, to Michelet and to Diderot's Encyclopddie.2 Although the history of Jewish customs, and perhaps even ideas, may also be linked to the place of coffee and coffeehouses in such cities as Safed or Venice, and although the beverage was much discussed in the responsa literature, the subject of coffee has suffered from conspicuous 2. Jean Leclant, "Coffee and Caf6s in Paris, 1644-1693," trans. P. M. Ranum, in R. Forster and O. Ranum, eds., Food and Drink in History (Baltimore, 1979);pp. 86-97, (appeared originally in Annales, E.S.C. 6 [1951]: 1-12). On the role of coffee in the emergence of the modern world, see H. E. Jacob, Coffee: Epic of a Commodity, trans. Eden Paul and Cedar Paul (New York, 1935), who claims that without it "modern civilization would be unthinkable" (p. 20). Jacob asserted somewhat poetically that "coffee has changed the surface of the globe. The muscular and cerebral stimulation and transformation produced in mankind by coffee have transfigured the visage of history" (pp. 23-24). Although his claim will not be fully endorsed in the present study, it serves as a useful contrast with those who have overlooked the role of coffee entirely. For a succinct recent summary of medical findings on its effects, see Melvin Konner, "Caffeine High," New York Times Magazine, Jan. 17, 1988.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
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neglect in modern Jewish scholarship. Whereas the editors of the Jewish Encyclopedia saw fit, at the turn of the present century, to include an article on coffee in that work, their modern successors, who have brought us the new Encyclopaedia Judaica, evidently regarded the subject as unworthy of scholarly interest. Not only have they abandoned the notion of devoting a separate entry to the subject of coffee, but the only reference to coffee in the latter's index leads us to a certain Rabbi Coffee (first name not given) who earlier in the century served as spiritual leader of a Reform temple in Toledo, Ohio.3 In Islamic scholarship, by contrast, the subject has fared considerably better. An extensive entry under the heading of"Kahwa" appeared, in 1927, in the original Encyclopaedia oflIslam, and some fifty years later the editors of the second edition saw fit to publish a revised and substantially expanded version.4 This, indeed, is quite appropriate, since it was evidently in fifteenth-century Yemenite Sufi circles that the drinking of coffee originated, the beverage having been found useful for producing the necessary wakefulness for their nightly devotional exercises.5 By the middle of the sixteenth century coffee had spread to such urban centers as Mecca, Cairo, Istanbul, and Damascus, where its use was no longer confined to religious purposes, and where special establishments were devoted to its preparation and consumption. Before the century's end, as the late Fernand Braudel observed, coffee "had installed itself virtually throughout the Muslim world."6 3. Jewish Encyclopedia (1901-6), vol. 4, p. 142. Note the ironically prophetic observation in the EncyclopaediaJudaica (1972), vol. 6, col. 732 (hereafter cited as EJ), that many of the Jewish Encyclopedia's entries "have remained unsurpassed statements." The German Encyclopedia Judaica (1928-34), though never completed, nonetheless progressed far enough to have made clear its exclusion of an entry for "kaffee," and the same is true for the more popular Jtidisches Lexikon (1927-30). The UniversalJewish Encyclopedia (1939-43) did include a fairly exhaustive article on Rabbi Rudolph Coffee (vol. 3, pp. 232-233) but none on the more famous beverage of the same name. 4. C. van Arendonk, s.v. "Kahwa," Encyclopedia of Islam (1927); idem, in Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed. (1978), vol. 4, pp. 449-455. A recent and valuable contribution to the subject is the monograph by R. S. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses: The Origins of a Social Beverage in the Medieval Near East (Seattle and London, 1985), which includes an ample bibliography. 5. Van Arendonk, "Kahwa"; Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, pp. 14, 22-26. On coffee in the Sufi orders, see also ibid., pp. 74-76, and J. S. Trimingham, The Sufi Orders in Islam (Oxford, 1971), pp. 199, 210. 6. Fernand Braudel, Civilization and Capitalism: 15th-18th Century, vol. 1, The Structures of Everyday Life, trans. S. Reynolds (New York, 1981), p. 256, and the earlier discussion; idem, The Mediterranean and the Mediterranean World in the Age of Phillip II, trans. S. Reynolds (New York, 1972), p. 762. See also more extensively Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses,
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ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
Yet, as suggested above, its position in the Jewish world was hardly as marginal as the silence of the modern encyclopedists might lead us to believe. Israel Abrahams, almost a century ago, correctly noted "the early love" of Jews for coffee and its subsequent impact upon Jewish life, although he may have been somewhat off the mark in linking their enthusiasm for the beverage to their sobriety and "their love of social intercourse with their fellows."7 Before him the considerable impact of the commodity upon Jewish, and especially halakhic, literature had been noted by the Hungarian scholar Leopold Low, who as early as 1858 appended, in good "Wissenschaft" style, a lengthy footnote on coffee to an article devoted to quite another subject (the history of the Flesch family in Prague). Low outlined four major areas in which questions arose as a result of the introduction and spread on the beverage." His list, however, was not complete, and by its nature was evidently not intended to be. It neglected, for example, the question as to whether coffee prepared by gentiles was prohibited not only on the Sabbath but on the remaining days of the week as well, on the grounds of bishulei nokhrim.9 This was chronologically the first problem to arise in the responsa literature, and it continued to have important implications for social relations between Jews and non-Jews during a period in which coffeehouses were emerging as the major hub of urban sociability, first in the East and then in the West.'?
chaps. 2, 6, and the colorful description of the arrival and rapid popularization of coffee in mid-sixteenth-century Istanbul, quoted at length in Bernard Lewis, Istanbul and the Civilization of the Ottoman Empire (Norman, Okla., 1963), pp. 132-133. On the last point see also E. Birnbaum, "Vice Triumphant: The Spread of Coffee and Tobacco in Turkey," Durham University Journal, December, 1956, pp. 21-27. 7. Israel Abrahams, Jewish Life in the Middle Ages (London, 1896), pp. 137-138. Abrahams proudly made a point of noting that "coffee was introduced into England by Jews" (ibid.). On this see more recently David Katz, Philosemitismand the Readmission of the Jews to England (Oxford, 1982), p. 40 and the sources cited there, n. 154. Compare, in a similar vein to Abrahams, the remarks of Attilio Milano, Storia degli ebrei in Italia (Turin, 1963), p. 567. 8. These were the permissibility of drinking it before morning prayers;whether coffee, when taken at the end of a meal, required a separate blessing; whether, after drinking coffee (outside of a meal) a final blessing (berakhaaharona) was necessary, or whether, on account of its being sipped in small quantities no such blessing was necessary; and finally, whether coffee might be drunk on the Sabbath in non-Jewish coffeehouses. See Leopold L6w, Gesammelte Schriften, ed. Immanuel L6w (Szegedin, 1890), 2:225-227. It was perhaps through Low that Abrahams, who cites him frequently, was alerted to the topic. 9. On this prohibition see Moses Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Maakhalot Asurot 17:14-21; Joseph Karo, Shulhan 'Arukh, Yoreh De'ah 113-114. 10. On the rise of the coffeehouses in the Near East, their social life and social norms, see
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
21
Furthermore,only one of the four areasin whichLow notedthe impact of coffee related to the drink's special qualities as a stimulant-its capability of driving away sleep and creating, on short notice, a refreshing sense of wakefulness. It was precisely these qualities which popularized the drinking
of coffee among the Sufis of Yemenand Cairo, amongwhom it becamean essential, and in some cases ceremonial, aspect of their nocturnal devotions." In the case of Jewish society it would be, therefore, equally appro-
priate to inquireinto the role of coffee in generatingor popularizingnew forms of night life, whether pious or profane. Was it incorporated,for example,into the nocturnalritualspopularizedby the kabbalists,anddid its subsequent spread affect the degree of receptivity accorded those rituals as they, together with coffee, crossed the Mediterranean? This line of inquiry owes much, of course, to the work of the late Fernand Braudel, whose wise words may serve us as both a warning and an invitation: "There is a danger that the history of coffee may lead us astray. The anecdotal, the picturesque, and the unreliable play an enormous part in it."'2 When and where, then, does coffee make its first appearance in Jewish
history?The earliestresponsumin which it is discussedconcernsthe question of its permissibilityfor consumptionwhen preparedby non-Jewsand was composed by R. David ibn Abi Zimra (d. 1573). This is hardly surpris-
ing, for the forty years in which Radbazresidedin Egypt(1513-1553) coincidedwith the periodin whichcoffeedrinkingspreadfromSufi circlesto the Egyptian population at large.'3 He saw no problem with the beverage Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, chaps. 6-8. On those of Europe see, among the many treatments, William H. Ukers, All About Coffee (New York, 1922), pp. 27-28; Leclant, "Coffee and Caf6s"; Antonio Pilot, La bottega da caffe (Venice, 1916). 11. See above, no. 5. Note the contemporary account quoted by Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, p. 14: "At the beginning of this [the sixteenth] century, the news reached us in Egypt that a drink, called qahwa, had spread in the Yemen and was being used by Sufi shaykhs and others to help them stay awake during their devotional exercises." On the ceremonial character of its use, see also ibid., p. 28 and Ukers, All About Coffee, p. 17. 12. Braudel, Structures of Everyday Life, p. 256. 13. Shortly before 1553 Radbaz returned to Palestine, where he spent his final two decades. It would seem more likely, however, that the responsum was penned in Egypt, over whose Jews his spiritual hegemony lasted some four decades. See Israel Goldman, The Life and Times of Rabbi David ibn Abi Zimra (New York, 1970), chap. 1, esp. pp. 5, 13, and H. J. Zimmels, "David b. Solomon ibn Abi Zimra,' EJ 5:1356-58. Concerning the spread of coffee in earlysixteenth-century Cairo, where Radbaz resided for the bulk of his Egyptian period, see Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, pp. 27-29, 38-40.
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ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
being prepared by a non-Jew, both because separate utensils were used for coffee and because it was too insubstantial an item to fall under the prohibition of bishulei nokhrim. Coffeehouses, however, were for him another matter entirely, prompting him to add: Nonetheless,I do not consentto its beingdrunkat a meetingplace [mesibbah] of non-Jews,for this has some undesirableconsequencesand the Jews are holy.... And, especiallysince that beveragehas no [pleasing]taste nor odor nor appearance,if it is neededfor medicinalpurposesone may send for it and have it deliveredhome. This is done by their leadingfigures,who would be embarrassedto drink it at such establishments.'4 In distinguishing between the beverage and its characteristic place of consumption, Radbaz expressed an opinion strikingly similar to that of his fellow Cairene, the Islamic jurist al-Jaziri. The latter composed a lengthy treatise on the subject of coffee in the wake of the sometimes violent clashes which had occurred in Cairo after its introduction there in the early sixteenth century."5In it he praised coffee on account of the many benefits it provided, especially that of driving away sleep during the performance of noctural devotions. On the other hand, however, he carefully limited his advocacy of the beverage by insisting that its use be kept free of the taint of the reprehensible activities then associated with the coffeehouses.'6 Like his Muslim colleague, Radbaz demonstrates considerable awareness of the social realities of coffee drinking and of the problematic status of the places
in which it was engagedin publicly. 14. David b. Solomon ibn Abi Zimra, Responsa (Warsaw, 1882), 3:637. This responsum was discussed by Goldman, Life and Times, as part of his treatment of "medicine and health practices" in the responsa of Radbaz, but the author unfortunately did not realize that the "medicine" referred to was coffee! On the medicinal qualities attributed to coffee, see Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, pp. 68, 70, 155; Braudel, Structures of Everyday Life, pp. 256-257; Leclant, "Coffee and Cafes," pp. 87-88; and among the earlier works, P. S. Dufour, Traitez nouveauxet curieux du caf ... (Lyon, 1685), chap. 12. On the avoidance of the coffeehouses by respectable people, see Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses,p. 93. For an earlier period, compare S. D. Goitein, A MediterraneanSociety, vol. 1 (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1967), pp. 114-115. 15. On al-Jaziri and his treatise 'Umdat al-safwa fi hill al-qahwa I have relied upon the discussion in Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses,pp. 25, 42-45. On the manuscripts and date of this work, as well as partial translations of it, see ibid., pp. 13 ff. 16. Ibid., p. 45. For a similar view on the part of the early-sixteenth-century jurist al-'Arraq, who complained of "all sorts of reprehensible things" in the coffeehouses, see ibid., p. 37. For a discussion of some of these, see ibid., chap. 7, "Society and the Social Life of the Coffeehouse."
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
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As time passed and the beverage spread, many halakhists exhibited a
similarlyintimateknowledgeof its propertiesand mannerof consumption, one of them going as far as to assert that in Egypt "one cannot attain presence of mind without the aid of coffee.""'Yet some differencesof opinion emergedconcerningits consumptionwhen preparedby non-Jews. R. HayyimBenvenisteof Smyrna,who died a centuryafterRadbaz,reported in response to a query on this subject that drinking the coffee of non-Jews
was customary"in all the places of which we have heard,"but he himself had recently decided to abstain from it. He claimed, moreover, to have
found supportfor such a positionin the literaturedescribingthe customsof the "divine kabbalist" R. Isaac Luria-the ARI.'8 Luria, a younger contemporary of Radbaz, had, like the latter, migrated from Egypt to Palestine during the second half of the sixteenth century, set-
tling in Safed. There, as is well known, he gatheredaroundhim a circleof disciples who followed his kabbalistic system and observed his distinctive
practices,both of which they continued to disseminateafter his death in 1572. One of the practices popularized by the ARI and his disciples was the
regularrecitationof a midnightrite mourningthe Temple'sdestructionand praying for its return. This practice, known as Tikkun Hazot, had been 17. R. Hezekiah de Silva, Peri Hadash to Shulhan 'Arukh, Orah Hayyim 89:3 (for another example of his taking coffee's properties as a stimulant into consideration, see ibid. to Orah Hayyim 481) Although de Silva lived in Jerusalem, one may note the corroborating testimony of his contemporary R. Abraham b. Mordecai ha-Levi of Cairo that it was "an everyday practice at sizable meals" that after drinking a glass of wine at the conclusion of the grace "another beverage called coffee" would be brought in order to restore one's presence of mind. Responsa Ginat Veradim(Constantinople, 1716), Orah Hayyim 1. Ha-Levi and the Jerusalem rabbi Abraham b. David Yizhaki engaged in an extended dispute on the question of whether a "final blessing" need be recited after a cup of coffee or whether, on account of its being sipped slowly while hot, the beverage was exempt. See above n. 8 and the latter's responsa published under the title Zer'a Avraham, pt. 1 (Smyrna, 1732), Orah Hayyim 2-5. In no. 3 reference is made to the custom of discussing the quality of the coffee ("ha-tova hi im ra'ah") while drinking it, which served as a social impediment to downing the cup swiftly. For other customs followed in the drinking of coffee, such as passing the cup, see Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, chap. 8. On conversation obligatorily accompanying the drinking of coffee, see also Leclant, "Coffee and Caf6s," p. 91. 18. See Hayyim b. Israel Beneviste, Ba'ei Hayyei, pt. 3 (Salonika, 1788), no. 155. Among his considerations was his sense that "coffee is important enough among those who drink it for one to extend an invitation for a single cup." For other attributions to the ARI of the opinion that coffee prepared by non-Jews was prohibited, see Immanuel Hai Ricchi, Mishnat Hasidim (Amsterdam, 1727), "motzaei shabbat" 7:7, and Isaac Lampronti, Pahad Yizhak, vol. 7 (Lyck, 1874), fol. 61a, s.v. "caffb." Cf. also Menahem Navarra, Penei Yizhak (Mantua, 1744), fols. 39a-b.
24
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
observed in various forms throughout the Middle Ages as an individual act of piety. As Schechter noted, "midnight, with its awe-inspiring silence and the feeling of utter isolation which comes upon man," was a favorite time for voluntary prayer. Only in late-sixteenth-century Palestine did Tikkun Hazot suddenly take off and become a mass rite, spreading from there to other countries in the Near East and the Mediterranean basin.'9 Its popularization was, of course, part of the wider diffusion of kabbalistic rites during this period and their penetration into daily life, but it can hardly be divorced from the increasing availability, by day and night, of a stimulant such as coffee.
Although increasinglyavailable,the beveragewas not as universally familiarin the Near East of the sixteenthcenturyas we might expect. R. Joseph Caro, for example, who came to Safed from Turkey in 1536 and completed his Bet Yosefthere some six years later, shows no signs in the rele-
vant sectionsof that work(nor of his laterShulkhan'Arukh)of any familiarity with coffee.20 Yet Caro would have had good reason to be interested in a stimulant which could effectively promote wakefulness. For he, together
with his brother-in-lawR. Solomon Alkabetz, introducedthe custom of observing an all-night study vigil on the festival of Shavuot, and he also
investedmuchenergyin remainingawakeat nighton a year-roundbasis in order to communewith his personal"Maggid."2' By 1580,however,therewas at least one coffeehousein Safed, for it is mentionedin the responsaof R. Moses Trani,Caro'ssuccessoras spiritual 19. See Gershom Scholem, s.v. "Luria, Isaac," EJ 11:571-578, and, on the shift in Tikkun Hazot in Luria's circle, idem, "Tradition and New Creation in the Ritual of the Kabbalists," in On the Kabbalah and Its Symbolism, trans. Ralph Manheim (New York, 1965), pp. 146-150. For the quotation from Solomon Schechter, see his essay "Saints and Saintliness" in Studies in Judaism, second series (Philadelphia, 1908), pp. 155-156. Concerning the prehistory of the rite, note also the comments of Isaiah Tishby, Mishnat ha-Zohar, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 1961), p. 662. A comprehensive study of Jewish night prayer during the Middle Ages remains a desideratum. 20. See, for example, Bet Yosef and Shulhan 'Arukh, Orah Hayyim 89; Yoreh De'ah 113-114. 21. For an annotated English translation of Alkabetz's account, see Louis Jacobs, Jewish Mystical Testimonies (Jerusalem, 1976), pp. 99-104. For the sources in which it originally appeared, see ibid., pp. 99, 118, and R. J. Z. Werblowsky, Joseph Karo: Lawyer and Mystic (Oxford, 1962), pp. 2, 19-22. On Caro's "Maggid," on his need to remain awake at night in study in order to merit maggidic visitations, and on his difficulties in doing so, see ibid. chap. 12. It is possible that Caro's Balkan background made him less aware of the beverage and its properties than his colleagues who hailed from Egypt, to which coffee came earlier and where its absorption into daily life was rapid. See above, n. 13.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
25
head of the community, who died in that year.22Whether or not the Jews of Safed actually patronized the establishment, they could hardly have been
unawareof the specialpropertiesof the beveragein whichit specialized,and which, as Tranitestifies,continuedto attractcustomerslate into the night. Furthermore,among the fundamentalchangesresultingfrom the introduction of coffee and coffeehousesin the cities of the IslamiceasternMediterraneanduringthe sixteenthcenturywas the gradualbreakdownof some of the conventional divisions between day and night. The latter, it has been noted, became associated to an increasing degree with activity rather than
repose,and with sociabilityoutsidethe home.23Did not this shift, together with the easy availabilityof a new stimulant,presentthe idealconditionsfor the revival of a "half-forgotten observance," to use Scholem's phrase, which
requirednocturalwakefulnessand which,underZoharicinfluence,focused upon the hour of midnight,an hourwhichhad otherwiselost almostall significance in positive Judaism?24 It has been suggested, as a corrective to Scholem's version of the Luri-
22. Moses b. Joseph Trani, Responsa (Venice, 1629-30), pt. 3, no. 150. This responsum was cited by Jacob Kena'ani, "Economic Life in Safed and Its Environs in the Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries" (Hebrew), Zion, o.s. 6 (1934): 186, who also noted its testimony that the coffeehouse in question was open late at night. See also Izhak Ben-Zvi, Eretz-Israel under Ottoman Rule (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1967), p. 172. On the links between Egypt, from whence coffee evidently came, and Palestine during this period, see A. Cohen and G. Baer, eds., Egypt and Palestine (Jerusalem, 1984), especially J. R. Hacker, "Spiritual and Material Links between Egyptian and Palestinian Jewry in the Sixteenth Century," pp. 241-250. In the early eighteenth century Richard Pococke was to report of his visit to Safed, "I was recommended to the cadi, who received me with great civilty and entertained us with coffee." See his A Description of the East (London, 1743-45) vol. 2, p. 76. 23. See Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses, pp. 127-128. He writes furthermore that "in earlier times, there were few and particular reasons for a person to be out at night . . . The coffeehouse did much to change this. Men went out at night to drink, meet with others, exchange information, ideas, or pleasantries, and otherwise amuse themselves." Some of these amusements would seem to have been behind the later decision of the Jewish community of Jerusalem to prohibit bachelors from going out to Tikkun Hazot at night. See Ya'akov Barnai, "The Regulations (Taqanot) of Jerusalem in the Eighteenth Century" (Hebrew), in Amnon Cohen, ed., Jerusalem in the Early Ottoman Period (Jerusalem, 1979), p. 308 and the sources cited there. 24. On the mystical significance attributed by the Zohar to the hour of midnight, see, for example, Zohar 1:242b,l1l:46a [=Tishby, Mishnat ha-Zohar, vol. 2, pp. 413-414], 111:121b. See also Fine, Safed Spirituality (New York, 1984), p. 17. It was reported that Luria, for mystical reasons, postponed marital coitus on the nights of his wife's ritual immersion until after midnight. See Moses Zacuto, Iggerot RMZ (Livorno, 1780), no. 12; H.Y.D. Azulai, Zipporen Shamir (Livorno, 1835), no. 124.
26
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
anic revival, that the messianic prayer vigils instituted in Jerusalem during the first quarter of the sixteenth century provide a missing link between the medieval tradition of mourning the exile and the rite popularized in Safed at that century's end.25This may have been the case on the ideational level, yet it is worthy of note that the Jerusalem vigils were held in conjunction with the afternoon prayers, while those in Safed were held in the middle of the night. Although the Zohar's fascination with midnight was presumably known to the mystics in both cities, coffee had not yet affected Jerusalem in the early sixteenth century in the way that it would affect Safed before the century's end.26From the perspective of their social history, the differences between the rites practiced in the two cities signify more than do the similarities. In the Safed rite popularized in the circle of the ARI and his disciples, the custom was encouraged not only of rising at midnight for prayer (the mournful TikkunRahel followed by the messianically charged TikkunLeah) but of remaining awake and engaging in Torah study for the remainder of the night.27 For those who could not adhere to such a grueling schedule, however, the alternative suggested was to rise at midnight and study briefly after the recitation of prayers, then return to sleep, to rise again half an hour
25. This view was expressed by Ira Robinson, "Messianic Prayer Vigils in Jerusalem in the Early Sixteenth Century," Jewish QuarterlyReview 52 (1981): 38-42. After I wrote this article, Moshe Idel's article, "On Mishmarot and Messianism in Jerusalem in the 16th-17th Centuries" (Hebrew), Shalem 5 (1987), came to my attention. Idel, too, stresses, contra Robinson (pp. 88-89), that the vigils instituted by R. Abraham in Jerusalem were considerably different from the Tikkun Hazot later practiced in Safed. 26. Unfortunately, Hattox's otherwise quite comprehensive work fails to deal with the cities of Palestine, but it would appear that coffee came to Jerusalem, or at least to its Jews, considerably later than it did to Safed. As late as 1616 an emissary from Jerusalem in Iraq seems to have been unable to identify the drink when a cup was poured for him. See Yom Tov Zahalon, New Responsa (Jerusalem, 1980), no. 3, previously published by Meir Benayahu in Kobez 'al Yad 15 (1950): 164-166. Zahalon, who lived primarily in Safed during the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, discussed elsewhere the question as to whether coffee prepared by non-Jews was permissible. See his Responsa (Venice, 1694), 1:60. 27. See Scholem, "Tradition and New Creation," pp. 149-150. Note there the quotation that "the time from midnight to morning is a time of grace, and a ray of this grace falls upon him even in the daytime." See also Fine, Safed Spirituality, pp. 17-18. The kabbalist R. Meir Poppers, in a work written in Jerusalem in 1643, asserted that rising at midnight "is extremely beneficial for acquiring ruah ha-kodesh." See his Or Zaddikim (Hamburg, 1690), p. 2. The first section of that work is devoted to "the time of waking in the morning," but most of its twentyfour paragraphs actually deal with waking at midnight for Tikkun Hazot-a sign of the custom's increasing penetration into normative practice.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES,
AND NOCTURNAL
RITUALS
27
or so before dawn so as to link day and night through study.28A glimpse of Safed by night is provided in the local tradition concerning R. Abraham ha-Levi Berukhim (d. 1593) who everynightwouldriseat midnightand walkthroughall the streets,raisinghis voice and shoutingbitterly,"Arisein honorof the Lord .. for the Shekhinah is in exileand our Templehas beenburnt.". . . And he wouldcall each scholar by his name, not departinguntil he saw that he had left his bed. Within an hour the city was full of the sounds of study-Mishnah and Zohar and midrashimof the Rabbisand Psalmsand Prophets,as well as hymns,dirges,and supplicatoryprayers.29 A central element in Safed spirituality then, especially in its Lurianic variety, was the considerable stress it placed upon nocturnal forms of piety. It would, of course, be unfairly reductionist to claim that this shift was possible only with the aid of the newly available stimulant served in the coffeehouse. The history of religion knows countless instances in which human beings, when present in spiritually charged environments (of which Safed is a classic example), have been able to transcend the normal limits of their physical constitutions. Yet what of the later survival and wider influence of their practices among others? The introduction of coffee brought with it, beyond the mere availability of a new stimulant, the emergence of a new perception of the night in which the hours of darkness could be shaped and manipulated by human initiative rather than condemn man to passive repose. Tikkun Hazot, it is maintained, was embedded in such a "coffee culture" whether or not it could have arisen without benefit of stimulants. The extent of its embeddedness is most clearly apparent when we examine the survival of the nocturnal forms of piety first cultivated in Safed and the history of their reception elsewhere. Evidence from the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries sug28. See, for example, Poppers, Or Zaddikim 1:3; Shulhan 'Arukhha-Ari(Frankfurt, 1691), pars. 4, 12; Jacob Zemah, Naggid u-Mezavveh(Amsterdam, 1712), fol. 6a (reprint ed. [Jerusalem, 1965], pp. 12-13); Hayyim Vital, Sha'ar ha-Kavvanot(Tel-Aviv, 1960) vol. 1, fols. 353a, 374d-379d; idem, Peri 'Ez Hayyim (Jerusalem, 1980), pp. 344-352. 29. Published by Simha Assaf, "Letters from Safed" (Hebrew), Kobez 'al Yad 3 (13) (1939-40): 122-123, and from there by Ya'ari, Iggerot Erez Yisrael(Ramat Gan, 1971), p. 205. Compare the text as published by Meir Benayahu, Toledot ha-ARI (Jerusalem, 1967), pp. 227-228. See also Scholem, "Tradition and New Creation," p. 149, and Fine, Safed Spirituality, pp. 47-48.
28
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
gests that coffee had indeed become a standard part of the nocturnal ritual as practiced in the land of Israel and its environs. When the Italian rabbi Moses Zacuto responded, in 1673, to a query from Mantua regarding the permissibility of drinking before the recitation of morning prayers, he expressed the opinion that only such beverages as beer or wine were prohibited but that water or medicinal drinks were not. As evidence he cited the practice "throughout all the land of Israel and the kingdom of the Turks, where it is customary to drink coffee every [night] after midnight, for it is similar to medicine in that it drives away sleep, as is known."30 Zacuto's main point in the responsum, as Tishby has noted, was not the permissibility of coffee, which was still relatively unknown in Italy and concerning which his Mantuan questioner did not explicitly inquire.31Rather, he used the coffee consumed in the East as an illustrative example of the sort of medicinal beverage that was permitted before prayers. One assumes that its consumption "after midnight" was popular both among those who rose at midnight to perform the abbreviated rite and among their more pious counterparts who remained awake in prayer and study from midnight to dawn. Although R. Moses Zacuto came to Italy by way of Amsterdam and had never been to the East,32his close familiarity with Jewish noctural habits in 30. Moses Zacuto, Responsa (Venice, 1761), no. 59. This text seems preferable to the one published in Iggerot ha-RMZ, no. 3. Compare also the version modified by the author of Hemdat Yamimr (IV, 23c) and quoted by Isaiah Tishby, "Hanhagot of Nathan of Gaza, Letters of R. Moses Zacuto, and Takkanot of R. Hayyim Abulafia in Hemdat Yamim"(Hebrew), Kiryat Sefer 54 (1979): 172. Zacuto's opinion is also cited in a 1788 letter published by R. Bonfil, "Twelve Letters of R. Elia Levi de Veali" (Hebrew), Sinai 71 (1972): 182. 31. Coffee was introduced into Venice in 1615, but in 1683 there was still only one cafe in the city (see below). Just two years before Zacuto penned his responsum, Fausto Nairone's Discorso della Salutifera Bevanda Cahve 6 vero Cafe (Rome, 1671) appeared in Italian translation from the original Latin (in which it had been published in a learned journal some three years earlier; see Dufour, Traitez, p. 35). In this work Nairone described coffee as one of the miracles of nature, stating that it had been discovered by an Arabian shepherd and enthusiastically embraced by (Christian) monks who found it useful for the performance of their nocturnal orations. Its subsequent spread, he believed, had been aided by divine providence (pp. 21-23). Nairone also quoted such travelers as Pietro della Valle on the merits of coffee, and testified that during his own travels in the East during 1650 he had sampled coffee and found it beneficial primarily "per la corroboratione dello stomaco e per la vigilanza della notte" (ibid., p. 53). Writing from Turkey earlier in the century the English traveler George Sandys had commented similarly on the popular drink "black as soote, and tasting not much unlike it. . . which helpeth, as they say, digestion, and procureth alacritie." See Sandys Travels(London, 1673) p. 51, quoted also in Samuel Purchas, Hakluytus Posthumous; or, Purchas His Pilgrimes, vol. 8 (Glasgow, 1905), p. 146. On della Valle see below, n. 49. 32. See Gershom Scholem, s.v. "Zacuto, Moses," EJ vol. 16, cols. 906-908. Although
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
29
"the land of Israel and the kingdom of the Turks" is hardly surprising. For, as he testified in a letter published by Scholem some forty years ago, he had performed the midnight Tikkun "innumerable times" with the Safed emissary in Italy, R. Benjamin ha-Levi.33 Zacuto presumably heard from the latter about the manner in which Jews of the East prepared themselves for the performance of the midnight rite. He may even have witnessed R. Benjamin drinking what was then in Italy still an exotic beverage on some of the long nights they spent together. Zacuto's testimony concerning the role of coffee in midnight vigils as practiced in the land of Israel is corroborated by a first-hand observer. R. Gedaliah of Siemiatycze, who arrived there as a member of R. Judah Hasid's entourage early in the eighteenth century.34His account of their stay includes a description of the annual vigil observed at the grave of the prophet Samuel on the 28th of Iyyar. After the afternoon and evening prayers, he reports, those present would read from the Book of Samuel and other texts in which the prophet was mentioned. And at midnightall the lightsin the cavewereextinguished,andtheysat in the darknessrecitingTikkunHazot in a lachrymosevoice. After they completed the Tikkunthey studiedsome Zohar, and then the drink called coffee was brought,quitehot, andgivento eachperson .... Afterwardssongsandhymns are recited . . . and there is celebrationuntil the morning.At first light the morningprayersare recitedand all returnhome in peace.35 R. Gedaliah's testimony points not only to the use of coffee in nocturnal rituals, but to the existence of an almost formalized coffee break, dividing according to the tradition cited there Zacuto had once fasted for forty days in order to forget the Latin he had acquired in his youth, the Italian edition of Nairone's work would have been accessible to him. There is, of course, no proof that he actually read it. 33. Gershom Scholem, "Regarding the Attitude of Jewish Rabbis to Sabbatianism," (Hebrew), Zion 13-14 (1948-49): 62. On R. Benjamin ha-Levi see Abraham Ya'ari, Ta'alumat Sefer (Jerusalem, 1954), infra, and, especially on his role in the dissemination of TikkunHazot, Gershom Scholem, Sabbetai Sevi: The Mystical Messiah, trans. R. J. Z. Werblowsky (Princeton, 1973), pp. 369-370, 478-479. 34. See Meir Benayahu, "The Holy Brotherhood of R. Judah Hasid and their Settlement in Jerusalem" (Hebrew), Sefunot 3-4 (1960): 133-182, and the bibliography cited there, p. 133 n. 3. 35. Abraham Ya'ari, Mas'aot Erez Yisrael (Ramat Gan, 1976), pp. 347-348. For earlier editions of this account, see ibid., p. 772. For the history of the observance at Samuel's grave, see idem, "History of the Pilgrimage to Meron" (Hebrew), Tarbiz 31 (1962): 72-101.
30
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
the portion of the night spent in lamentation from that devoted to joyful song.36 Although his account relates to a special occasion, the procedure followed then, especially in light of Zacuto's testimony, would seem to have largely replicated the manner in which Tikkun Hazot was performed in that same region under more ordinary circumstances. What, however, of the spread of Tikkun Hazot beyond the confines of the land of Israel and the Ottoman Empire? This question is part of a much larger one concerning the manner and extent to which Lurianic Kabbalah, in the words of Scholem, "changed the face of Judaism in all its aspects, theoretical as well as practical."37Here we shall concern ourselves primarily with Italy as a case study and with the manner in which coffee and Tikkun Hazot, two Middle Eastern "products" which began moving westward across the Mediterranean between the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, came to attain considerable popularity among its Jews. Although various factors, social as well as spiritual, contributed to the eventual popularization of the midnight rite in that country, it shall be argued here that the changes brought about by the introduction of coffee and coffeehouses were particularly instrumental. These changes prove especially useful in helping to explain the otherwise puzzling delay in the popular reaction to Tikkun Hazot. Although it was at first virtually ignored in Italy in favor of the home-grown rite of Shomrim la-Boker, it was able eventually to overtake and then supplant the latter. Coffee, it shall be maintained, played a central role in opening the night to ritual activity. Beginning in the 1570s a new form of Jewish piety made its presence felt in Italy, beginning in Venice and spreading to some of the neighboring communities in the region. Societies calling themselves by such names as Shomrim la-Boker and Me'irei Shahar were founded for the purpose of perform-
36. These would seem to correspond to the TikkunRahel and TikkunLeah respectively. On the similarly ceremonial use of coffee in Sufi nocturnal devotions, see the sources cited above, nn. 5, 11. 37. The quotation is from Scholem, "Tradition and New Creation," p. 135, where a social history of Kabbalah is implicitly called for. In the present paper only some aspects of the social history of Tikkun Hazot are addressed. On some others see Scholem, Sabbetai Sevi, pp. 250, 501-504 (its history during the period of Sabbatian messianic ferment); Simha Assaf, Mekorot le-Toledot ha-Hinnukh be-Yisrael, vol. 3 (Tel-Aviv, 1936), p. 85 (on women and Tikkun Hazot in nineteenth-century Iraq). See also above, n. 23. On its recent incorporation in a demonstration at the Western Wall against the screening of films in Jerusalem on Friday nights, see Haaretz, Sept. 15, 1987, p. 1.
AND NOCTURNALRITUALS COFFEE,COFFEEHOUSES,
31
ing and promoting a predawn rite of voluntary prayer.38Those involved in the promotion of this rite could hardly have been unaware of the midnight ritual then practiced in Safed and the East. We have it on the authority of R. Aaron Berechia of Modena that the initiator of this rite in Italy was none other than his teacher, the kabbalist R. Menahem Azariah of Fano, whose familiarity with the writings emanating from Safed is well known.39 Moreover, R. Aaron Berechia himself, in the handbook he prepared for use by his own Modenese Me'irei Shahar confraternity, testifies that the Palestinian emissaries Israel Sarug and Gedaliah Cordovero had been in the habit of rising, during their stay in Italy, to perform midnight devotions-the former in the author's own home.40 Yet in the same work he presents two alternative liturgies, the preferredone to be recited not, as we might expect, at midnight but rather, shortly before dawn, and the second, for those unable to rise early, to be recited before bed.41
Midnight,however,had nonethelessbeen on the minds of some of his 38. On this phenomenonsee the discussionsin M. A. Shulvass,Jews in the Worldof the Renaissance,trans. E. Kose (Leidenand Chicago, 1973),pp. 212-213; Shlomo Simonsohn, History of the Jews in the Duchy of Mantua (Tel Aviv, 1977), pp. 553-554; and, more extensive-
ly, Horowitz,"JewishConfraternitiesin Seventeenth-Century Verona,"chap. 4. 39. AaronBerachiaof Modena,Ashmoretha-Boker(Mantua,1624),fol. 264b.The actual founderof the firstShomrimla-Bokersociety,however,wasIsaacTreves.SeeE. Horowitz,"R. Isaacb. GershonTrevesin Venice"(Hebrew),KiryatSefer59 (1984):254-256. On R. MenahemAzariah'srelationshipto Safedkabbalism,see IsaiahTishby,"TheConfrontationbetween Lurianicand CordoverianKabbalah in the Writingsand Life of R. Aaron Berachiaof Modena"(Hebrew),Zion 39 (1974):9-13, and RobertBonfil, "New Informationon Rabbi Menahem Azariah da Fano and His Age" (Hebrew) in Studies in the History of Jewish Society .. Presented to Professor Jacob Katz (Jerusalem, 1980), pp. 103-104.
40. AaronBerachiaof Modena,Ashmoretha-Boker(Mantua,1624),fols. 248a-b. See also Tishby,"ConfrontationbetweenLurianicandCordoverianKabbalah,"p. 21, n. 37, who notes the evident disingenuousnessof Modena'sclaim to have known nothing of the (probably Lurianic)rite observedby Sarug.On the latter,see GershomScholem,"Was IsraelSaruga Discipleof Luria?"(Hebrew),Zion5 (1939-40):214-243. On Cordovero,seeAbrahamDavid, s.v. "Cordovero,Gedaliah,"EJ 5:967,and the bibliographycited there.The somewhatmisleadingassertion,however,is madetherethat in Modenaboth Sarugand Cordovero"urged the adoptionof the Safedcustomsof risingearlyto mournfor the destructionof the Temple andto prayfor the redemption."Comparealso AbrahamYa'ari,SheluheiErezYisrael(Jerusalem, 1977),p. 151. 41. Neither one adheres, furthermore,to the custom which, accordingto R. Aaron Berachia,was followed by his grandfatherR. Hillel Modenaof Viadana,who would remain awakeeach night until after midnight,and then reciteverses from Daniel and the Book of Psalmswhile sitting on the ground(Ashmoretha-Boker,fol. 248b).This, too, was evidently excessivelydemandingfor the widerpublic.
32
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
Italian Jewish contemporaries. During the early summer of 1586 one of them, R. Jacob Alperon of Lodi, queried some rabbinical colleagues concerning the merits attached to midnight by the rabbis and especially the kab-
balists. Accordingto the latter, he understood,it was desirableto rise for prayerat midnight,the hour when God amusedhimselfwith the righteous in the garden of Eden, "or at least before the last third of the night." Yet, asked R. Jacob, "now that the short nights are beginning, to be followed by
the longerones [of winter],how shallwe determinethe hourof midnightor the third watch, for . . . when it is midnight for us, in other places a third of the night will not yet have passed, and vice versa. . . . Or perhaps the rabbis and kabbalists had in mind the time of midnight in the land of Israel."42R. Jacob, it would appear, had heard of the custom then practiced in the land of Israel but was looking for an acceptable excuse to avoid implementing it
in northernItaly,especiallyduringthe shortsummernights,In neighboring MantuaAbrahamPortaleone,writingat the beginningof the seventeenth century, noted the considerable merit attached by the Zohar to Torah study
at midnight.Ratherthan encouragingthe adoption of this practiceby his readers,however,he was contentto suggestthat studyduringthe firstwatch of the night had largelythe same value.43Both Italianauthorsflirtedwith the idea of midnight but shied away from even suggesting that prayer or study be regularly pursued at that inconvenient hour.
Duringthe periodin whichthey werewriting,the predawnrite of Shomrim la-Boker was flourishing in Italy. Between the end of the sixteenth century and the late 1620s no less than seven separate editions of liturgies
42. Jacob Alperon, Responsa Nahalat Ya'akov(Padua, 1622), pp. 6 ff. On the author, see Marco Mortara, Indice Alfabetico dei Rabbini e Scrittori Israeliti (Padua, 1886), p. 3, to which add now Shlomo Simonsohn, The Jews in the Duchy of Milan (Jerusalem, 1982-86), index, s.v. "Jacob . . . Alperon" (especially vol. 3, pp. 1777, 1785), and Daniel Carpi, ed., Pinkas... Padovah, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 1979), where he appears between 1618 and 1625. 43. Abraham Portaleone, Shiltei ha-Giborim(Mantua, 1612), fol. 132b. The author, who was a prominent physician, may have been professionally prejudiced against nocturnal study. The physician Amatus Lusitanus, upon treating another Mantuan Jew, Azariah dei Rossi, in the mid-sixteenth century, wrote concerning the latter's symptoms: "Here we must refer to study at night, which is harmful and contrary to nature and is therefore to be avoided; at night the spirits withdraw into the interior, and the effort and excitement of study forces them out." See Harry Friedenwald, The Jews and Medicine (Baltimore, 1944), vol. 2, p. 400. Contrast these remarks, however, with those of another physician-Maimonides, Mishneh Torah, Talmud Torah 3:13. The social and intellectual history of nocturnal study among the Jews, like the history of nocturnal prayer, requires a separate monograph.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
33
for predawnprayerhad been publishedthere.44Societiesfor the recitation of these prayersexistedby the latterdate in all the majorItaliancommunities, with some, like Mantuaand Modena,hostingtwo, andVenice,whereit all began,as manyas three.45Yetduringthe sameperiodnot a singleedition of TikkunHazot appearedin Italy. Onlyin Mantua,at the end of the 1620s, do we first hear of a Hevrat Hazot Laila in Italy, which, however, was founded later than the two local confraternitiesfor predawnprayer,and, unlike them, did not publish its own liturgy.46 This resistanceto nocturnalritualsin Italy is especiallystrikingin light of the popularityof those involvingrisingbeforedawnand in light,furthermore, of the considerablepropagandathen takingplace in that countryon behalfof the Safedform of spirituality.Geographicalfactors,it is true,must be taken into consideration.Venice,for example,at upwardsof 45 degrees of latitude, is considerablyfarthernorth than Safed, at only 33 degrees. Hence its summernightscould be shorterby as much as two hours,leaving preciouslittle sleep on eitherside of midnightfor those who chose to rise at that hour.47Kabbalisticauthorities,however,in both Safed and Italy had been willingto makeconcessionson this matterduringthe difficultsummer months, so it is unlikelythat geographyalone can account for the differ-
44. For some of these see Moritz Steinschneider, Catalogus... Bodleiana, 2nd ed. (Berlin, 1931), nos. 3001, 3003, 3004, 3022 (hereafter cited as CB). For a more extensive discussion of these editions see Horowitz," Jewish Confraternities in Seventeenth-Century Verona," pp. 198-199. 45. See above, n. 38. On Rome see also H. Vogelstein and P. Rieger, GeschichtederJuden in Rom (Berlin, 1895), vol. 2, p. 316; on Modena see Tishby, "The Confrontation," pp. 35-45, where R. Abraham Berachia's comments on developments in other communities are also quoted. On Venice and Verona see Elliott Horowitz, "Jewish Confraternal Piety in the Veneto in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries," in G. Cozzi, ed., Gli Ebrei e Venezia(Milan, 1987), pp. 304 ff. 46. Simonsohn (Mantua, p. 557) points to its existence in 1637, but from the testimony of R. Aaron Berachia of Modena we know of its existence a decade earlier. See Tishby, "The Confrontation," p. 41. A Seder Hazot was then available in the Seder ve-Tikkun Keriat Shema, published in Prague in 1615 (Steinschneider, CB, no. 3082), but it is unlikely that this work was used by the Mantuan confraternity. Their failure to publish a prayerbook of their own, which would have been the first of its sort in Italy, testifies to their own recognition of the custom's lack of popularity in that country. 47. For a similar attempt to make use of latitudinal differences in explaining the difference between customs, see Israel Ta-Shema, "The 'Addition' to the Sabbath" (Hebrew), Tarbiz 52 (1982-83): 317, 322. See also idem, "Two Sabbath Lights" (Hebrew), Tarbiz 45 (1975-76): 136-137.
34
ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
ence.48 Moreover, Tikkun Hazot did eventually achieve considerate popu-
larity in Italy without any change,of course, in the length of the summer nights. What did change, then? Here we return to the matter of coffee. This beverage, of which Italians only began to learn in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries49 (when the Jews among them were first hearing of Tikkun Hazot), was by then at home throughout the Islamic eastern Mediterranean. From there it was first brought to Venice in 1615, where the first coffeehouse, evidently the first in all of Europe, was opened twenty-five years later."5The period in which the predawn rite of Shomrim la-Boker emerged in Italy and spread rapidly among its Jewish communities was thus
one in whichcoffeewas at first unavailablein that countryand then exotically rare. Although Pietro della Valle had reported from Constantinople
that "whendrunkaftersupperit preventsthosewho consumeit fromfeeling sleepy,"few then in Italywerein a positionto changetheirnocturnalhabits with the aid of coffee. From the middle of the seventeenth century, however, side by side with Shomrim la-Boker, the nocturnal rite of Tikkun Hazot becomes an increas-
ingly visiblepresenceupon the Italianscene. Giulio Morosini,the former Samuel Nahmias who was baptized in 1649, provided in his Via dellafede an insider's description of the two "shifts" of Venetian Jews who would come to the synagogue before the regular morning services. The members of the first, whom he calls "the most devoted," arrive "one or two hours before
48. See Zacuto, Iggerot ha-RMZ, no. 11, where the opinion of R. Hayyim Vital is also cited. Abraham Rovigo, who had queried Zacuto on this matter, was evidently unhappy with his master's ruling that in the summer the Tikkuncould be recited shortly before or after dawn, but never before midnight. He was emboldened to inquire what the saintly ARI did in the summer on the nights of his wife's ritual ablutions, after which he would wait until midnight before performing intercourse (see above, n. 24). R. Moses responded curtly that the ARI would certainly have risen before dawn even then, "but there is no need to inform us of this, since it is obvious." See ibid., no. 12. On special summer hours for TikkunHazot see also Isaiah Bassan, Lahmei Todah (Venice, 1741) fol. 88d. 49. On the reports of Prospero Alpini and Pietro della Valle, see Jacob, Coffee: Epic ofa Commodity,p. 44, and Braudel, Structures of EverydayLife, p. 256. The latter had written from Constantinople in 1615 concerning coffee that "when drunk after supper, it prevents those who consume it from feeling sleepy. For that reason students who wish to read into the late hours of the night are fond of it." See also above, n. 31. 50. Braudel, Structures of Everyday Life; Robert Hewitt, Coffee: Its History, Cultivation, and Uses (1872), p. 17; Enciclopedia Italiana (1930), s.v. "Caffb," vol. 8, pp. 262-263; Pilot, La bottega, pp. 6-7.
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daybreak and .. sit on the floor reciting, in a sad and mournful voice, some verses and compositions . .. called Kinot," especially one beginning with the words Al heikhali. The members of the second, whom he calls "the less devoted" and belong to the Hevrah (sic) Shomrim la-Boker rise only shortly before dawn and go to the synagogue, where "they wait until the lamentations of those of the first class are completed, and then, in a rather livelier (or at least less mournful) voice, they recite several penitential prayers ...
and confessions.'' Althoughthe formergroupis not identifiedas a confraternity, its members would undoubtedly have described the rite they performed as Tikkun Hazot. In 1655 a liturgy for the "midnight" ritual was published in Italy for the first time, in R. Nathan Shapira's TuvHa-A retz.52 In that same year a Hazot confraternity was founded in Verona (more than four decades after the foundation there of a Hevrat Shomrim la-Boker) and another was operating in Ferrara.53The rather delayed emergence of Tikkun Hazot in Italy, then, occurred only after the arrival there, also by way of the Mediterranean, of coffee. It was not, moreover, the only nocturnal rite to experience such a fate. Ferrara's Hazot confraternity saw fit, in 1655, to publish a book of readings 51. Giulio Morosini, Via dellafede mostrata a'gli Ebrei (Rome, 1683), vol. 1, pp. 245-246. On the date of his baptism, see Y. H. Yerushalmi, From Spanish Court to Italian Ghetto (New York, 1971), p. 201, n. 14. Cecil Roth, in his [History of the Jews in] Venice(Philadelphia, 1930), p. 142, drew heavily upon Morosini's description without indicating his source. Earlier in that work, however, Roth noted that Morosini's Via is "extraordinarily replete with information for the reconstruction of the social history of the Ghetto" in the author's day (ibid., p. 118). On Morosini see most recently Benjamin Ravid, "Contra Judaeos in Seventeenth-Century Italy: Two Responses to the Discorso of Simone Luzzatto by Melchiore Palontrotti and Giulio Morosini," AJS Review 7-8 (1982-83): 328-348, and the literature cited there, p. 328 n. 57. Ravid has correctly observed that the work still awaits systematic examination, especially from the perspective of its relationship to the descriptions of Jewish rites by Johannes Buxtorf and Leone Modena (p. 339). For one attempt to do so, see my study "The Eve of the Circumcision: A Chapter in the History of Jewish Nightlife," Journal of Social History, in press. 52. Nathan Shapiro, TuvHa-Aretz (Venice, 1655), fols. 64b-68b. See Steinschneider, CB, no. 3024 and s.v. "Nathan Spira." On the author and his role, together with R. Benjamin haLevi of Safed, in the dissemination of Tikkun Hazot and other Lurianic devotions in Italy, see Scholem, "Attitude of Jewish Rabbis to Sabbatianism," p. 62, and idem, Sabbetai Sevi, pp. 370, 478-479. 53. For the foundation of Verona's Hazot, see Menahem Navarra's introduction to Seder Tikkun Hazot (Mantua, 1746) and Leopold Zunz, Die Ritus des synagogalen Gottesdienstes (Berlin, 1919), p. 152. On the Ferrara Hazot Laila confraternity, note the Seder ve-Tikkun for the nights of Shavuot and Hoshana Rabbah it published in Mantua, 1655. The work is not mentioned by Steinschneider, but a copy is found in the Jewish National and University Library in Jerusalem.
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ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
for use at the vigils of Shavuot and Hoshana Rabbah; and Shapira's Tuv Ha-Aretz, published in the same year, contained material for recitation on those nights as well. The custom of remaining awake in study on the former night had been introduced by R. Joseph Caro and R. Solomon Alkabetz in the early 1530s, and spread, by the century's end, among the adherents of kabbalistic piety in Safed and elsewhere in the land of Israel. In the list of customs prepared by R. Abraham Galante it is reported that on the night of Shavuot, "following the meal, every congregation assembles in its own synagogue and those present do not sleep the whole night long," reading selections from biblical, rabbinic, and mystical literature "until the break of dawn."'54"Throughout the night of Hoshana Rabbah," it is reported in the same source, "they recite psalms and penitential prayers." Early in the seventeenth century R. Isaiah Horowitz reported that Hoshana Rabbah, like Shavuot, was observed in the land of Israel with all-night Torah study.55 In some of the Palestinian sources the very fact of sleeplessness on these nights was stressed over and beyond the importance of study. Both vigils, moreover, fell on days on which (unlike the Sabbath) coffee could be prepared by a Jew. It may thus be presumed that significant numbers of those who observed them fortified themselves with the stimulant which the hidden hand of God had recently brought to their region. It is therefore quite telling that despite the many avenues of communication between the Jews of Italy and those of Palestine, these two holiday vigils 54. The text of Galante's customs was published by Solomon Schechter in the appendix to his "Safed in the Sixteenth Century," Studies in Judaism: Second Series. See there p. 295, and, for the translation, Fine, Safed Spirituality, p. 43. See also the discussion of the Shavuot vigil in Y. D. Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim, "in 'Alei 'Ayin: The Salman Schocken Jubilee Volume (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1948-52), pp. 125-129, and Scholem, "Tradition and New Creation," p. 139. For Galante's date of death, however, which Wilhelm places prematurely at 1560, see David Tamar, Studies in the History of the Jewish People in Eretz Israel and in Italy (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1972), pp. 104-106. R. Hayyim Vital expressed the view that anyone who avoided sleeping for even a minute on the night of Shavuot would be assured of surviving the coming year. For his view and those of others, see Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim" (cited above). R. Isaiah Horowitz, in "Massekhet Shavuot" of his Shne Luhot ha-Berit (reprint, Jerusalem, 1963), pt. 2, fol. 29c, completed in Palestine during the 1620s, encourages wakefulness on that night for one who wishes to "cling to holiness." See also Moses ibn Makhir, Seder ha-Yom (Lublin, 1876), fol. 38b. 55. Schechter, Studies, p. 296; Fine, Safed Spirituality, p. 44; Isaiah Horowitz, Shne Luhot ha-Berit ("Massekhet Sukkah"), pt. 2, fol. 76a. See also Moses ibn Makhir, Seder ha- Yom,fol. 46c ("some remain awake and do not sleep at all"). For other sources, as well as a discussion of the Hoshana Rabbah rite before the sixteenth century, see also Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim," pp. 138-143.
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hardlymade an impactin Italy until the middleof the seventeenthcentury. When they did appear, moreover, they took a predictably different shape. In
1648a HoshanaRabbahliturgywas publishedin Mantuaintendedfor recitation not during a night-long vigil but rather "before dawn on the great day, the day of the willow." Its author, Hananiah Eliakim Rieti, had been associated with the local Shomrim la-Boker confraternity, whose rite repre-
senteda similarItaliancompromisewith the rigorsof Safedkabbalism.56 In the same year a book of readings intended for use on the nights of Shavuot
and Hoshana Rabbah was published in Venice, but its contents differed considerably from the rites then favored in the land of Israel. Its title page,
furthermore,mentionedthe custom of studyingTorahon these nights,but spoke only of doing with "little sleep."'57It was evidently as a corrective to these editions and to Italian practice on these two nights that R. Nathan Shapira included in his TuvHa-Aretz (Venice, 1655) the Palestinian version
of the ritesfor the two vigils, stressing,with regardto Shavuot,that anyone who avoided sleep would be assured of surviving the year. As part of his campaign to reorient Italian Jewry toward closer adherence to the rites
favoredin Palestine,R. Nathanalso includedin the sameworkthe "authentic" version of TikkunHazot-its first appearancein print.58 Yet despite such efforts, Italian Jewry of the mid-seventeenth century responded with considerably less enthusiasm to the latter rite than it had to 56. Mekiz Redumim (Mantua, 1648), introduction. Rieti had also been responsible for much of the Ayelet ha-Shahar, published there in 1612 by the local Shomrim la-Boker society. On Mekiz Redumim see also Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim," p. 142. Its author had been dead for some twenty-five years before it was published (see ibid. and Simonsohn, Mantua, p. 731). This, too, reflects the initial lack of receptiveness in Italy for a special rite for Hoshana Rabbah. The day eventually became a kind of festival for the Shomrim la-Boker societies in that country. See Horowitz, "Jewish Confraternal Piety," p. 312, and G. Laras, "Un Componinento Poetico di J. M. Padoa," Rassegna Mensile di Israel 36 (1970), pt. 2, pp. 193-203. I hope to discuss the Hoshana Rabbah vigil somewhat further in a future article. 57. Seder Keriat Ve-Tikkun (?) le-Lailei Hag Shavuot ve-Hoshana Rabbah (Venice, 1648). See Steinschneider, CB, no. 3046; Meir Benayahu, Copyright,Authorizationand Imprimatur... in Venice (Jerusalem, 1971), pp. 279-281; as well as the comments of Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim," p. 143. 58. Shapira, Tuvha-Aretz, fols. 74b-76b. The custom of remaining awake all night in study is described there as "minhag pashut be-Yisrael." In 1659, four years after the publication of Tuv ha-Aretz, the now rare Shefer Tikkunim, containing a liturgy for these two nights by R. Moses Zacuto, was first published in Venice. See Steinschneider, CB, no. 3049, and Benayahu, Copyright, p. 280. Later editions appeared in Venice in 1674, 1682, 1696, 1706, and 1717. Of these I have examined only the last three, none of which explicitly refers to the custom of remaining awake on either of the nights. See further below, no. 80.
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Shomrim la-Boker several decades earlier. The few Hazot societies which emerged were generally short-lived, competing unsuccessfully with the preexisting societies for predawn prayer,59and leaving behind little documentation. In no case, unlike Shomrim la-Boker, was the rite popular enough for there to be two competing confraternities in a single community, nor did any Italian confraternity publish its own Tikkun Hazot handbook during the course of the seventeenth century. During the same period in which Tikkun Hazot was playing second fiddle to Shomrim la-Boker in the Italian communities, coffee was just becoming available in that country but not yet widely popular. Venice, where the first coffeehouse was established in 1640, still had only one in 1683.60Jewish sources, too, attest to the relative foreignness of the product even in the latter half of the seventeenth century. R. Moses Zacuto, in his 1673 responsum discussed above, refersto the drinking of coffee as primarily an Oriental custom. At about the same time R. Shabbetai Ber, writing in Italy, dealt with the question as to whether "the coffee, which is imbibed especially in Eastern countries," was prohibited when prepared by non-Jews.6' During the same years some of the most devoted kabbalists in Italy pressed hard for permission to recite Tikkun Hazot before midnight, making it clear that remaining awake beyond that hour posed enormous difficulties.62 The cooler reception given the rite in the Italian communities than in those of the eastern Mediterranean would seem, therefore, to have stemmed in no small degree from the fact that in Italy, as in all of Europe, the night had not yet been conquered with the aid of coffee.
59. On the sense of competitiveness with Shomrim la-Boker on the part of the adherents of TikkunHazot, note the introduction of R. Nathan Nata Hannover to Sha'arei Ziyyon (Prague, 1662). The author had spent time in Italy in the 1650s and had been closely associated with the Palestinian emissaries Nathan Shapira and Benjamin ha-Levi, whose views he would seem to echo. See Israel Halpern, s.v. "Hannover, Nathan" EJ 7: 1273-74. 60. Pilot, La bottega, p. 13. 61. Shabbetai Ber, Responsa Beer 'Esek (Venice, 1674), no. 105. In a letter of advice written by another Italian rabbi, Samuel Aboab (d. 1691), to a scholar planning emigration to the land of Israel, he saw fit to warn him "to be strict with regard to the prohibition of remaining alone with [non-Jewish] maidservants and also with regard to their performance of work on the Sabbath and in heating the drink [called] coffee." See Responsa Devar Shemuel (Venice, 1702), no. 156. 62. Zacuto, Iggerot RMZ, nos. 11-12. See above, n. 48.
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39
Betweenthe end of the seventeenthcenturyand the middleof the eighteenth,however,such a conquestdid occuras "the coffeehousemadegreat Venice,wherethere was still only one in 1683,limited progressin Italy."'63 the coffeehousesby law to 206 in 1759,but was able to do little to ensure theirclosingbeforethe earlyhoursof the morning.64 Its Jews,moreover,did not lag behindthe trend.The Venetianghetto, accordingto a surveyconducted in 1713, contained at least two coffeehouses, one of which conveniently occupied the first storefront on the right as one entered from the Canareggio.65 Jews in Mantua became increasingly active in the coffee business, and by the middle of the century there was at least one Jewish coffeehouse operating there.66In the ghetto of Verona there were no less than two, and they clearly had an impact upon its social life. Their ambiance was such that the authorities saw fit to issue three separate orders between 1745 and 1755, prohibiting the Jews from introducing "women of any religion" into their coffeehouses, whether by day or night.67 Coffee also figures prominently in the sumptuary laws passed by the Italian Jewish communities during the course of the eighteenth century. In
some cases it is treatedas a luxuryitem, but in others its consumptionis strategicallycontrolledas a meansof controllingnocturnalbehavior.In an effort to expunge profane elements from the pre-circumcision vigil and to 63. Ukers, All about Coffee, pp. 27-28. 64. Pilot, La bottega, p. 13. On the coffeehouses of eighteenth-century Venice, see also W. C. Hazlitt, The VenetianRepublic (London, 1900), pp. 791-792 and the sources cited there; Maurice Andrieux, Daily Life in Venice in the Time of Casanova, trans. M. Fitton (London, 1972), pp. 22-23, 48-49; F. C. Lane, Venice:A Maritime Republic (Baltimore, 1973), pp. 425, 433. On those of Florence, see Eric Cochrane, Florence in the Forgotten Centuries, 1527-1800 (Chicago, 1973), pp. 364-365. On the influential periodical IL Caff&,published in Brescia from 1764 by a group of Milanese intellectuals, see Ukers, All About Coffee, p. 30, and, more recently, D. Carpanetto and G. Ricuperati, Italy in the Age of Reason, 1685-1789, trans. C. Higgit (London and New York, 1987), esp. pp. 262-266. 65. Giacomo Carletto, Il ghetto venezianonel Settecento (Rome, 1981), p. 146 and table 13. See also ibid., pp. 191, 251. 66. Although a survey of the Jewish merchants in 1717 listed none in the coffee business, a similar survey in 1739 showed a greater number dealing in coffee and cocoa (6) than in flour and pasta. See Simonsohn, Mantua, pp. 77, 306-307, 530, 548-549. 67. A broadside published on 12 May 1755 by the Podesti of Verona at the Jewish community's expense threatened offenders with a fine of 100 ducats. It referredto previous mandati of 22 December 1745 and 6 June 1749, both of which pointed to the "pessime consequenze e perniziosi effeti" which might result from the introduction, by day or night, of "Donne di qualunque religione in... loro Boteghe di Caffb." A copy has been preserved in theArchivio di Stato di Verona, Archivio del Comune: Proclami e stampa, busta 222 no. 374. I thank its director for permission to examine and photocopy the document.
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ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
lend it an increasingly sacral character, the Roman community in 1726 limited the consumption of coffee on such occasions to the members of the confraternity dedicated to nightlong study and prayer in the home of the parents. Others were permitted to attend the veglia, but only these were given the wherewithal to get through the night. Similar steps were taken later in the century in Ancona and Mantua. The link between coffee and nocturnal wakefulness had thus achieved official recognition.68 How did these developments affect the fortunes of Tikkun Hazot? We would perhaps be inclined to believe that the incipient modernity of eighteenth-century Jewish culture, at least in the West, would contribute to the decline of a custom so arcane and inconvenient.69The Italian evidence, however, points in the opposite direction. Rather than fading away, Tikkun Hazot gathered strength in the eighteenth century and achieved what would appear to be unprecedented popularity. In the seven decades between 1704 and 1774 no less than eight editions of TikkunHazot were published in Italy, more than twice the total for the entire seventeenth century.70In 1746 alone two separate editions appeared in Mantua, one of which was published for Hevrat Hazot of Verona, a confraternity whose fortunes perhaps best reflect the changing status of Tikkun Hazot in eighteenth-century Italy. Founded originally in 1655, it was soon dissolved, refounded in 1706, and soon dissolved again. When Hevrat Hazot emerged for the third time, however, in 1745, it was able within a short space of time to boast seventy members and to publish its own liturgical handbook.7' The year of its successful comeback was also the year in which the Jews of Verona were first warned about introducing women into their coffeehouses. From that point on Hevrat Hazot not only grew in popularity, but did so at the expense of its
68. A summary of the 1726 statutes is provided by Abraham Berliner, Geschichteder Juden in Rom (Frankfurt, 1893), vol. 2, p. 196. For Ancona, see Pragmatica da osservarsidalli singoli dell' Universitcdegli Ebrei d'Ancona (Ancona, 1766), pp. 12-13, and for Mantua, below, n. 74. It may thus be argued that the spread of coffee played a role in the transformation of the veglia in Italy, between the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, from a festive celebration into a night-long rite of prayer and study. See my "Eve of the Circumcision," cited above, n. 51. 69. Cf. Azriel Shohet, Beginnings of the Haskalah among GermanJewry (Hebrew) (Jerusalem, 1960), especially chap. 7. For Italy see now Lois Dubin, "Trieste and Berlin: The Italian Role in the Cultural Politics of the Haskalah," in Jacob Katz, ed., Toward Modernity: The European Jewish Model (New York and Oxford, 1987), pp. 189-224. 70. See, for example, C. B. Friedberg, Bet 'Eked Sefarim, p. 1122. 71. See Menahem Navarra's introduction to Seder Tikkun Hazot (Mantua, 1746), which was published for the confraternity.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
41
longtime competitor Hevrat Shomrim la-Boker, which was devoted to early morning prayer. Staying up late at night, it would appear, had become a more attractive choice than rising before dawn among those Veronese Jews interested in such rituals. In 1747 the minute-book of Shomrim la-Boker listed fifteen members who, during the past year alone, had crossed over to Hevrat Hazot and were therefore barred from casting ballots in confraternal elections. Nine years later, in 1755, the minute-book of Shomrim la-Boker terminated rather abruptly and somewhat mysteriously after 115 years, suggesting that the confraternity, too, had ceased to function.72 The Jewish coffeehouses of Verona, however, were still functioning at that date and still being warned about their clientele. The beverage in which they specialized and the new perception of the night which they represented would seem to have reversed the relative attractiveness of the two prayer rites championed by the two competing confraternities. Tikkun Hazot, previously the more forbidding of the two, had become the more convenient to observe. A similar pattern emerges in Mantua, where a Hevrat Hazot Laila was founded and dissolved intermittently during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. In 1790, however, it was founded anew by the members of the Hadashim la-Bekarim society, which, as its name suggests, had been devoted to predawn prayer.73Here, too, the shift occurred during a period in which at least one coffeehouse was functioning in the community and in which sumptuary legislation referred frequently to the consumption of coffee.74 In Modena, as well, coffee appears as a controlled substance in the sumptuary laws of 1765.75It was during that decade that the local Hevrat Hazot, although presumably founded earlier, began to show added vigor, publishing two liturgical handbooks for use by its members. The first, published in 1763, was intended for recitation at vigils held on the eve of a circumcision, and the second, published two years later, was an edition of
72. Pinkas Hevrat Shomrim la-Boker, Verona, MS Jerusalem 4?559. The relevant section is not paginated. 73. Simonsohn, Mantua, p. 557. 74. For example, the laws of 1771, par. 34, where coffee is limited on the eve of the circumcision to those studying around the table. The same limitation reappeared in the regulations of 1776 and 1782. On these editions of the Mantuan sumptuary legislation, see Simonsohn, Mantua, pp. 541-542. 75. Pragmatica instituita da osservarsi dalli singoli dell'Universithddegli Ebrei di Modena (Florence, 1765), p. 12, par. 10.
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ELLIOTT HOROWITZ
Tikkun Hazot.76 The popularization of coffee and the ritualization of the night hours thus went hand in hand. The Ashmoret ha-Boker society of Modena, founded by R. Aaron Berachia almost a century and a half earlier, was evidently seriously weakened by the new strength shown by Hazot, for it soon sought to fortify itself through a merger. In 1768 it joined with the Jewish confraternity in Modena devoted to the care of the sick, forming the rather anomalous combination of Hevrat Ashmoret ha-Boker u-Vikkur Holim.77 It was not only in Italy that the growing popularity of coffee in the eighteenth century exerted an appreciable impact upon Jewish ritual and confraternal life. Even farther to the north, in Worms, the statutes of the Gemilut Hasadim society reveal a striking change in the status of the beverage during that century, as well as clear evidence of its use in nocturnal rituals. In 1731 the confraternity decided that at its annual banquet no beverage other than wine or brandy would be served at its expense. Tea or coffee, it was added (perhaps half-seriously), would be considered as taboo, as was the "wine of the gentiles," although members could drink beer and "sour water" provided they brought their own.78 By 1763, however, the taboo was broken, and coffee joined wine and brandy among the "official" drinks the confraternity served at its banquets. In that same year, moreover, Gemilut Hasadim of Worms decided to provide coffee on two other occasions-the study vigils held on the nights of Shavuot and Hoshana Rabbah. The member in whose home the vigil would be held was required to provide wine at his own expense, but the coffee would be paid for by the confraternity.79The beverage had not only risen in status, but had come to 76. Seder Mishmeret ha-Ben (Livorno, 1763); Tikkun Hazot (Livorno, 1765). 77. The merger occurred on 21 December 1768, as may be seen in the minute-book preserved in the Central Archives for the History of the Jewish People in Jerusalem, HM 181. 78. Avigdor Unna, ed., Register of Statutes and Protocols of the Hevra Kadisha of Worms... 1716-1837 (Hebrew and Yiddish) (Jerusalem, 1980), pp. 64-65. 79. Ibid. pp. 100-101, 106-107. See also pp. 118-119, 140-141, 146-147, 150-151. The status of coffee as a relative novelty among mid-eighteenth-century German Jewry is also evident in one of the sermons delivered by R. Jonathan Eyebeschuetz in Metz during the 1740s. The latter, berating his congregants for their conservative resistance to spiritual reform, asked them why they so willingly drank coffee, tea, and chocolate even though these, too, were unknown to their ancestors. See his Ya'arotDevash (Jerusalem, 1984), vol. 2, p. 80, and see also the Jerusalem, 1972, edition, p. 67. I thank Prof. S. Z. Leiman for drawing my attention to this sermon. For a reference by Eyebeschuetz to the same three beverages in another context, see Shohet, Beginnings of the Haskalah, p. 275, n. 71. The use of coffee as a metaphor for newness requires more extensive study.
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be recognized as a necessary prerequisite for the observance of nocturnal vigils. The widening popularity of coffee in eighteenth-century Italy seems to have breathed new life into the observance not only of Tikkun Hazot, but also of the Shavuot and Hoshana Rabbah vigils. The history of their dissemination in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is a more complicated process than can be adequately chronicled and analyzed here. Yet it may be noted that only in the latter century, as coffee entered the fabric of everyday life in Italy, did mass-market editions of the readings for these two nights roll regularly off the presses. No less than eight editions of the Tikkun for Hoshana Rabbah appeared in Italy between 1728 and 1785, and in Venice alone no less than five editions of readings for Shavuot night were published between 1730 and 1767. These editions, moreover, were explicitly intended for use by those remaining awake all night, and contained prayers to be recited at the successful conclusion of the sleepless vigil.80If coffee was in these years an integral part of the observance in Worms, its role could hardly have been less central in a city such as Venice, where the beverage was first introduced to Europe, and which, in the mid-eighteenth century, boasted some 200 coffeehouses, including some in its ghetto.8' In the Piazza San Marco, where the best-known of these were situated, a contemporary could experience night as "a dazzle of everlasting day." In other parts of the city it was also common for the cafes to remain open past midnight (despite the existence of regulations to the contrary) and for the principal thoroughfares to be thronged until early morning.82 With the advent of the coffeehouses as hubs of nocturnal sociability, in Venice and elsewhere in Italy, remaining awake past midnight became increasingly a way of life. Further research is admittedly required in order to show precisely how this shift affected Jewish society. It would appear, however, that the surge in the popularity of nocturnal rituals was one of its consequences. 80. See, for example, TikkunHoshana Rabbah (Venice, 1728), fol. 101a. This work appears to be modeled upon the edition of Amsterdam, 1727. For the earliest publication (1710) of the prayer to be recited at the end of the Hoshana Rabbah vigil, see Wilhelm, "Sidrei Tikkunim," p. 143. See also TikkunLeil Shavuot(Venice, 1730), fol. 68a. In contrast to the editions of Shefer Tikkunim which began to appear in the seventeenth century (cf. above, n. 58), the all-night character of the Shavuot rite is stressed in its introduction. For eighteenth-century editions of the two Tikkunim, see Friedberg, Bet 'Eked Sefarim, p. 1123. 81. See above, n. 64. On the number of cafes, see also Andrieux, Daily Life, p. 22. On coffee in the Hoshana Rabbah vigil in Ancona, see the 1766 Pragmatica (cited above, n. 68), par. 16. 82. Andrieux, Daily Life, p. 23. Note also Hazlitt, VenetianRepublic, pp. 791-792 (especially his quotation from Romanin), and Ukers, All About Coffee, p. 28.
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The vigils of Shavuot and Hoshana Rabbah, previously limited in their appeal and relatively brief in duration, came to be widely observed as allnight affairs. This was due more to the availability of coffee than to the habit of frequenting coffeehouses, but the vogue achieved by the midnight rite of Tikkun Hazot would seem to have been equally linked to the latter. After long lagging behind the less-demanding observances of Shomrim la-Boker, it came, during the eighteenth century, to enjoy unprecedented popularity among Italian Jewry. Those Jews who, in increasing numbers, were in the habit of spending their evenings in the cafes of the ghettos evidently found it more attractive to recite TikkunHazot late at night than to rise even shortly before dawn for Shomrim la-Boker. The former rite was congruent with their lifestyle, while the latter clashed with it. The kabbalists, it should be noted, had insisted on the recitation of the Tikkunafter midnight, but not on its recitation after a period of sleep. And lest it be overhastily objected that habitues of cafes are not the sorts of people to show enthusiasm for mystical night rituals, let it be noted that in the religious culture of the Mediterranean such combinations were, and indeed are, rather commonplace. An eighteenth-century traveler, for example, reports the observation concerning the Venetians that "they spend one half of their time in committing sin, and the other half in begging God's pardon."83 As Braudel has noted, "A whole book could be written on the devotional practices imported to all parts of Europe" by the men of the Mediterranean.84We have here dealt with only a small chapter of that book, which must, of course, be a collaborative effort. Coffee and Tikkun Hazot, as we have noted, both originated in the Middle East and came gradually to Italy by way of the Mediterranean. News of both first arrived there late in the sixteenth century, and in the seventeenth their dissemination proceeded somewhat haltingly. In the eighteenth century, however, both became integral features of the nightlife of Italian Jewry. The vigils of Shavuot and Hoshana
83. Charles Thompson, Travelsof the Late Charles Thompson,ContainingHis Observations on France, Italy, Turkey in Europe, 1744, vol. 1, p. 257. On Mediterranean religiosity, see the brief but suggestive remarks of Braudel, Mediterranean World, pp. 832-833. Mention should perhaps be made in this connection of the criticism by the moralist R. Eliezer Papo of those who hurried through Selihot on the first night of their recitation in order to allow time for sitting afterwards in the coffeehouses. See his Pele Yo'etz (Bucharest, 1860), p. 208, cited also by L6w (above, n. 8). 84. Braudel, Mediterranean World, p. 833.
COFFEE, COFFEEHOUSES, AND NOCTURNAL RITUALS
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Rabbah also thrived with the aid of coffee, not only in Italy but as far north as Worms. The conspicuous role eventually accorded that beverage in their observance is perhaps most clearly evident in the account provided by a nineteenth-century Jewish traveler in North Africa. Concerning Shavuot he wrote, "On the first evening the families assemble in their houses," reading biblical portions aloud by turns, "and during the pauses, coffee and other refreshments are handed round." In Tripoli, on the night of Hoshana Rabbah, he observed, "the reading is done as in Europe," but "between each part selichot is [sic] spoken and the shofar sounded; much coffee is drunk on the occasion.""'85 There are doubtless other sources from which the caffeine nexus of these vigils emerges with equal clarity.
Although a separate study would be necessary to examine the impact of coffee on modern Jewish society and culture, let us conclude, by way of epilogue, with two examples of the wider implications that a cup of coffee might have. The tension between the attractiveness of coffee as a stimulant and the less-than-wholesome image of the coffeehouse, evident in Radbaz's sixteenth-century responsum on the subject, continues to animate the reverie experienced one morning by Hirshl in Agnon's Simple Story. Upon waking in Buczacz (Szybusz) after a bad night's sleep, the following went through his mind: What he neededto put him back on his feet was a good cup of coffee. .. . A cup of strongcoffeewas his one hope of recovery-yet wherewas he going to get it? What passed for coffee in his home was merelycoffee-coloredmilk. Once afterhis marriagehe had beento Stanislawand had drunkrealcoffeein a coffeehouse.Of course,therewere such placesin Szybusztoo, but no selfrespectingcitizen would be caught in one. Hereit is time for morningprayers,thoughtHirshl,and all I can thinkof is coffeehouses.Yetwhatwas so sinfulabouta coffeehouse?It wassimplya matter of local custom.Perhapsno decentpersonwould frequentone in Szybusz, but there were towns where this was not at all the case.86 In Venice, where local custom had indeed endorsed the respectability of 85. Israel Joseph Benjamin (Benjamin II), Eight Years in Asia and Africa: From 1846 to 1855 (Hanover, 1859), pp. 282, 284. 86. S. Y. Agnon, A Simple Story, trans. Hillel Halkin (New York, 1985), pp. 163-164.
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coffeehouses, the ritual associations of coffee, developed, perhaps, through the nocturnal rites described above, have survived well into the present century. An ethnologist doing fieldwork in the ghetto of Venice a decade ago noted the custom of its Jews to visit a cafe immediately upon returning from a funeral. Then, as in centuries past, the body of the deceased would be transported by boat to the Lido, and return from a funeral thus entailed, in a wider sense, return to the ghetto. Signor Aboaff explained that "here, after a funeral you go for a drink so that the 'gezera' won't follow you home .... You go to a cafe... You take the disaster to a bar." Signora Sullam, another elderly resident of the ghetto, added, "On leaving the cemetery . . . We go to get coffee. Oh it's terrible if you go straight home."87 BenGurionUniversity Beer Sheva, Israel
87. Stephen Sipporin, "Continuity and Innovation in the Jewish Festivals in Venice, Italy" (Ph.D. diss., Indiana, 1982), p. 147. The author regards the funeral customs of Venetian Jewry as an "example of the oldest stratum of folk culture which serves the community today" (ibid. p. 143).
Prolegomenon to the Study of Jewish: Christianities in Rabbinic Literature Author(s): Burton L. Visotzky Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 47-70 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486284 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:30 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
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PROLEGOMENONTO THE STUDY OF JEWISH-CHRISTIANITIES IN RABBINIC LITERATURE by BURTON L. VISOTZKY The Christian,Jewish, and Jewish-ChristianCommunities They just don't fit very neatly; they never did. Ever since it became clear that the law-free mission to the gentiles would create a church and not a synagogue, Jewish-Christianity has been an uncomfortable reality with which to deal. The "Synagogue" didn't like it. The "Church Catholic" didn't like it. And modern scholarship, far less ready to accept the vagaries of a religion that resembles but cannot be made to fit known varieties of religion, seems to like it even less. Jewish-Christians seemed to want to hang on to an anachronism, a mission that should have failed already in Paul's lifetime. Yet it is the very fact that Jewish-Christianity occupies a middle ground between Judaism and Christianity (as though there were such "normative" religions in antiquity or today) that makes it the object of fascination to modern scholarship. If one could but define Jewish-Christianity, one could locate the borders of the two "parent" religions-so seems to be the logic of much modern scholarship in dealing with the phenomenon. Hence, a great deal has been written recently, attempting to define Jewish-Christianity so This essay was written during my tenure as a Visiting Fellow of Clare Hall, University of Cambridge, and as a Visiting Scholar at the Oxford Centre for Post-Graduate Hebrew Studies. A generous grant from the Abbell Publication Fund of the Jewish Theological Seminary of America supported the research.
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that scholars could get on with the business of placing it somewhere between "real" Judaism and "real" Christianity, neatly.' This approach presumes that there are borders which can be drawn when there are virtually none. For the study of Judaism and Christianity in antiquity teaches us that there is not any one normative or real Judaism, nor is there any one true church or Church Catholic. We have learned to speak of ancient Judaisms and ancient Christianities. We must learn not only to speak also of Jewish-Christianities, but to accept that the disparate communities which make up this rather broad rubric will fall along the entire continuum of biblical religions in late antiquity. The problem has been recognized for some time. Ever since Walter Bauer wrote his Orthodoxy and Heresy,2 scholars have reluctantly recognized that they must abandon the Eusebian notion of a Great Church Catholic towering over antiquity. Instead, studies have had to be limited to a wide variety of Christianities, each different from the One Church over which Constantine would have liked to preside and often identical with the other Christian movements condemned by that church. In other words, a millennium and a half after their existence, scholars were forced to stop viewing certain communities and churches as heretical and to view them instead as authentic expressions of Christian religion in antiquity. It remains a difficult task for a variety of reasons: old views die hard, modern religious beliefs impose certain biases in favor of the monolithic view of the church and, quite simply, scholars are not happy about having to master vast new 1. For general bibliographies the following works should be consulted: J. Danielou, The Theology of Jewish Christianity (London, 1964); Aspects du Judeo-Christianisme, Colloque de Strasbourg (Paris, 1965); Judeo-Christianisme:Recherches historique et thdologiqueoffertes en hommage au CardinalJean Danielou (= Recherchesde science religieuse 60 [1972]); M. Simon, "Reflexions sur le Judeo-Christianisme," in Christianity, Judaism and other Greco-Roman Sects: Studies for Morton Smith at 60 (Leiden, 1975), 2:53-76; A. F. J. Klijn, "The Study of Jewish-Christianity," New Testament Studies 20:419-431; B. Malina, "Jewish Christianity: A Select Bibliography," Australian Journal of Biblical Archeology 6 (1973): 60-65. Specific mention must be made of the groundbreaking studies of H. J. Schoeps, whose works are listed in the bibliographies above. More specific to the problems of defining Jewish-Christianity, see, e.g., M. Simon, "Problemes du Judeo-Christianisme," in Aspects du Judeo-Christianisme, pp. 1-17; B. Malina, "Jewish Christianity or Christian Judaism: Toward a Hypothetical Definition," Journal of Jewish Studies 7:46-57; S. Riegel, "Jewish Christianity: Definitions and Terminology," New Testament Studies 24:410-415; and R. Kraft, "In Search of 'Jewish-Christianity' and Its 'Theology': Problems of Definition and Methodology," Recherches de science religieuse 60:81-92. 2. W. Bauer, Orthodoxy and Heresy in Earliest Christianity (Philadelphia, 1971).
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bodies of literature and a new view of history in order to just get on with their business. But the business has changed; it is no longer the History of Christianity, but the History of Christianities. A similar reluctance has dogged Jewish studies. Scholars of the period post-70 still prefer to view the history of Judaism in that era as the history of Rabbinic Judaism. When a scholar takes the time (a very long time at that) to master the rabbinic corpus, he or she is loath to turn and ask, what comes next? On the other extreme there are scholars with limited Hebrew skills or with certain prejudices who refrain from mastery of rabbinic literature and rely instead on Apocrypha, Pseudepigrapha, Josephus, Philo, and Qumran for their notion of Judaism in antiquity (these scholars have for the most part ceased using the term Sptitjudenthum). Few students at all bother to incorporate the masses of archaeological evidence which point to Judaisms other than rabbinic; to say the least of the even smaller number who try to learn patristic and Greco-Roman literature for their pictures of Judaism. There is an awesome body of material to master if the job is to be done properly. Unfortunately, many of those who have bothered have tended to treat one literature as primary and the others as buttresses to the view that corpus may present. Even more exasperating are those who attempt to harmonize all of the above into one homogeneous "Judaism in Late Antiquity." Needless to say, the religion of a scholar has a curious effect on the view of Judaism adopted and on the literature he or she chooses to study. We remain yet a long way from the study of Judaisms in late antiquity. Nevertheless, a start has been made in the study of Jewish-Christianities. Two notable articles have contributed a great deal to the idea of multiple communities. The first, for the patristic period, was G. Strecker's appendix to Bauer, which he titled, "On the Problem of Jewish Christianity."3 Strecker wished to point out an area which Bauer had ignored, but in doing so, described the Jewish-Christian communities of late antiquity as separate entities. He worked from the evidence of two bodies of literature and avoided the temptation to harmonize them into one Jewish-Christianity identifiable with a heresy singled out by the church. More recently, Raymond Brown has taken this approach for the study of New Testament Jewish-Christianity. He has suggested that at the outset of the Christian mission there were not only a law-free and a law-observant 3. G. Strecker, apud Bauer, op. cit.
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mission, but four different missions, each representing a differing form of early Christianity.4 The result of Brown's study is to increase the variety of Jewish-Christianities for the New Testament period. His work, combined with Strecker's advances, will force scholars to reexamine the notion of a monolithic Jewish-Christianity, much as must be done for Judaisms and Christianities in late antiquity. The end result of this new scholarship willing to take account of each small community as an authentic, independent phenomenon will not be visible for at least a generation. By then, scholars will come to be satisfied when they conclude that this painful ambiguity of broad definition is an accurate reflection of late antiquity. Then, and only then, can the study of JewishChristianities seriously begin. My own field, rabbinic literature, is one of the important components in the study of Jewish-Christianity that remains largely ignored.5 To encourage the mingling of the Sea of the Talmud with the murky waters of Jewish-Christianity, I should like to briefly chart some of the territories which must be navigated for such an undertaking.
ChristianLiteraturesas Sourcesfor Jewish-Christianities There are four major literatures to be surveyed for basic information about Jewish-Christianity: works identified as Jewish-Christian, the works of Christian heresiologists, Gnostic sources, and patristic literature. One must add archaeological data to the above materials, but such data are limited and subject to a great deal of disagreement in interpretation. Among the Jewish-Christian literatures are the Pseudo-Clementines,6
4. R. E. Brown, "Not Jewish Christianity and Gentile Christianity But Types of Jewish/ Gentile Christianity," Catholic Bible Quarterly45 (1983): 74-79. Brown credits our colleague, J. Louis Martyn, with the insight that there was a law-observant mission to the gentiles. I might add that Brown and Martyn's theses have but uncovered the tip of the iceberg. 5. I have not seen the work of A. Schlatter, Synagogue und Kirche bis zum Bar KochbaAufstand. Vier Studien zur Geschichtedes Rabbinats und derjidischen Christenheitin der ersten zwei Jahrhundertern(Stuttgart, 1966 [written between 1897 and 1915]), which I understand makes some contribution to the field. For the limited contribution of scholars of rabbinics, see below. 6. G. Strecker, Die Juden-Christentumbei den Pseudo-Klementinen(Berlin, 1958).
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the DidascaliaApostolorum,7the Apostolic Constitutions,8and one must now add the Cologne Mani Codex.9None of these texts representsa purely Jewish-Christian literature. In each instance internal evidence has led
scholarsto identifyportionsof the text as Jewish-Christian.Each of these identificationshas, in turn, led to refutationsand refinementsof the JewishChristian thesis.'0 The list offered above is only representative and not by any means complete. Snippets identified as Jewish-Christian literature abound, and it would be useful to have them collated into one volume. Then the difficult work of categorizing and analyzing could take place within the context of other materials. Even so, the work would remain but a tentative
classificationpendingbroaderinvestigations. The works of the heresiologistsare a fruitful,though obviouslybiased source of information on Jewish-Christianities. The discovery at Nag Ham-
madi of the library which contained so much Gnostic literatureoffers scholarsa good control for methodologiesin using the heresiologistsfor informationabout given "heretical"sects." To ease the workin classifying informationfrom the heresiologists,one may turn to the useful anthology by Drs. A. F. J. Klijn and G. J. Reinink.'2In particularone thinks of the reports by Irenaeus, Hippolytus, and Epiphanius which are collected in that volume. Gnostic literature seems to hold some promise for research in JewishChristianity primarily because of the Jewish background evident in the already Christian layers. The assumption here is that such literature repre-
sents the product or backgroundof a Jewish-Christiancommunityrather than a Gnostic literaturewhichwas firstJudaizedand then Christianized.'3 7. Didascalia, ed. A. V66bus, Corpusscriptorumchristianorumorientalium, 1979, vols. 1-2; his English translation, ibid., see the earlier edition by P. de LaGarde, Didascalia Apostolorum Syriacae (Leipzig, 1854) and an earlier English translation with introduction and commentary by R. H. Connolly (Oxford, 1929). 8. Ed. F. X. Funk, Didascalia et constitutiones apostolorum (Paderborn, 1905). 9. Ed. A. Henrichs, L. Koenen, Zeitschrift fir Papyrologie und Epigraphik 19, 32, 44, 48, and see my "Rabbinic Randglossen to the Cologne Mani Codex," ibid. 52:295-300. 10. E.g., D. Fiensy's thorough study, Prayers Alleged to Be Jewish: An Examination of the Constitutiones Apostolorum (Chico, Calif., 1985). 11. J. M. Robinson, ed., The Nag Hammadi Library in English (New York, 1977). 12. A. F. J. Klijn and G. J. Reinink, Patristic Evidencefor Jewish Christian Sects (Leiden, 1973). 13. See, e.g., R. M. Grant, "Jewish Christianity at Antioch in the Second Century," Recherches de science religieuse 60 (1972): 97-108, and C. K. Barrett, "Jews and Judaisers in
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Unravelingan alreadyknottyliteratureis not an enviabletask, but it could shed light on certainforms of Jewish-Christianity. Gnosticism has led me to separate the heresiologists from the rest of the
churchfathers,a practiceotherwiseto be avoided.All "orthodox"church fathersare heresiologistsin some fashion, as, of course, are the heresiologists the epitome of "orthodoxfathers."Thus the Klijn-Reinink volume includesfatherswho are not particularyconcernedwith brandingheresies, but do so by the way. Among the patristic evidence that must be weighed is Justin's Dialogue with the Jew Trypho,chap. 47, Ignatius of Antioch's letters (Magn. 10:3, Phil. 6:1),14 and those fathers collected by Klijn and Reinink, including Tertullian, Origen, Eusebius, and Jerome. One must also peruse the anti-Jewish sermons of John Chrysostom, particularly 4.3.15
As I suggestedabove, this materialmust be viewedin conjunctionwith archaeological evidence. Unfortunately, such evidence is so difficult to interpret that a find which may be thought by some to be a church may be thought by others to be a specifically Jewish-Christian church. Imagine the debate that ensues when experts are unsure whether a site is a church or a
synagogue.Further,the interpretationof funerarymonumentswith "Christian"motifsbut "Jewish"namesis a sourceof debate.Finally,it is not at all clear which motifs are exclusively "Jewish," which exclusively indicative of
"Christian,"let alone which motifs give evidenceof Jewish-Christianartifacts.'6Thus the applicationof archaeologicalfindingsmust alwaysreferto the originalartifactsthemselvesand not merelyto the conclusionsof the
the Epistle of Ignatius," in Jews, Greeks and Christians... in Honor of W. D. Davies (Leiden, 1976), pp. 220 ff. 14. See Barrett, "Jews and Judaisers"; J. Meier in R. E. Brown and J. Meier, Antioch and Rome (New York, 1983); E. Schweizer, "Christianity of the Circumcised and Judaism of the Uncircumcised-the Background of Matthew and Colossians," in Jews, Greeks and Christians, pp. 245-260. 15. See R. Wilken, John Chrysostom and the Jews (Berkeley, 1983); W. Meeks and R. Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch (Missoula, 1978). 16. I offer only a few examples to illustrate the magnitude of the problem. Most notably one must list the works of W. Ramsay and, more recently, B. Bagatti (see below). Then there are those who wish that hard-to-classify groups like the Jewish-Christians would just go away, e.g., A. T. Kraabel, "The Disappearance of the God-Fearers," Numen 28 (1981): 113-126; this despite the evidence of rabbinic literature and the Sebomenoi inscription. See L. H. Feldman, "The Omnipresence of the God-Fearers," Biblical Archeology Review 12 (5, 1986): 58-69, with the response by Kraabel et al., ibid., pp. 44-57, and see J. Gager, "Jews, Gentiles, and Synagogues in the Book of Acts," in G. W. E. Nickelsburg and G. W. MacRae, eds., Christians Among Jews and Gentiles (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1986) pp. 91-99.
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archaeologists. This minimal degree of control will at least militate against
egregiouserrorsof judgmentor "findings"which will soon be overturned. This segment outlining the church sources necessary for initial consulta-
tion in the study of JewishChristianityis far from comprehensive.It contains but the basic bibliographyfor those interestedin intelligentlybringing the resources of their own field to bear on the history of Jewish-
Christianities,or vice versa.
Types ofJewish-Christianities in ChristianLiteratures The four types of literatures briefly surveyed above offer a significant amount of confusing information about a bewildering variety of JewishChristianities. It is not my intention here to order that information into any comprehensive picture of Jewish-Christianities in late antiquity. I should, rather, like to survey the broad categories of information which the literatures present, with some examples from each and some comment on the problems they present. This overview will enable those who are not specialists in Jewish-Christianity to see where they might best apply contributions from their own disciplines. The Jewish-Christian communities are often identified by name. Thus, we know of Ebionites, Nazorenes, Elchesites, Cerinthians, and Symmachians, among others."7There is an almost irresistible desire among scholars to equate these groups, to assume that different heresiologists gave different names to the same group, to take groups described but not named and presume these to be those. While the desire to impose order on this variety of names is an understandable occupation of scholarship, it is dangerous. First, one suspects the idea of a monolithic Jewish-Christianity lurking behind the tendency. Second, the equation of two groups which have broadly the same outline in no way guarantees the actual existence of but one group in historical reality. Obviously, if groups were Jewish-Christian they had many similarities. Nevertheless, ideology or locale or chronology caused them to be, in fact, disparate communities. Though the existence of different names does not guarantee the existence of different communities, it is the burden of the scholar to prove that only one group existed. Though it is far from tidy, one suspects that the very nature of the Jewish-Christian communities as 17. See Klijn and Reinink for full details.
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pariahs from the "Great Church" and "Synagogue" caused considerable fragmentation. When the church gained power and began rooting out "heresies," prudence and safety must have caused the communities to remain small and scattered. The same holds true for the earlier period when Roman or Jewish authorities were the acting powers. Unfortunately for modern scholars, this all but guaranteed a wide variety of theology and praxis. The consequences of this historical necessity were varying locales, theologies, and practices, which will now be surveyed. A variety of centers are suggested as loci for Jewish-Christianity. Epiphanius (Pan. haer. 29.7) alone lists four: Beroea in Coele-Syria, the Decapolis, Pella, and Kokhaba. Of course, most of the locales that supported large Christian communities are suggested as Jewish-Christian centers. So we read reports about the communities of Asia Minor, Palestine (where it all began),'8 Rome (where it all continued),'9 and that most idiosyncratic of all cities in the Levant, Antioch.20 The latter two cities have had their histories exhaustively written and rewritten.Rome is so complex that one is almosttemptedto exclude it from research simply because it's just too hard to master. But the mastery of Rome has long been a motif in Jewish and Christian literatures, so one must plunge into the Jewish-Christianitiesof the city. A look at any recent history will provide an adequate point of departure for literary bibliography on both pagan and Christian sources. One should also consider carefully the evidence of the catacombs, both "Christian" and "Jewish," but with the provisos about archaeology mentioned above.2' Antioch deserves careful consideration thanks to the evidence of both Ignatius and John Chrysostom regarding Judaizing there. First, one must contend with the problem that when Ignatius writes of Jewish-Christianity, 18. For Asia Minor the old works of W. Ramsay, St. Paul the Traveller(New York, 1896) and Cities and Bishoprics of Phrygia (Oxford, 1897), remain useful. See also Barrett, "Jews and Judaisers." For Palestine the most notable, if thoroughly credulous, efforts are by B. Bagatti, The Churchfrom the Gentiles in Palestine (Jerusalem, 1971) and The Churchfrom the Circumcision (Jerusalem, 1971). 19. E.g., R. E. Brown in Brown and Meier, Antioch and Rome, with the bibliography there. 20. Meier in ibid.; Grant, "Jewish Christianity at Antioch"; Barrett, "Jews and Judaisers"; Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christians in Antioch. 21. The material remains require a critical reevaluation in light of Jewish-Christianities. The best analysis of the Jewish catacombs remains Harry Leon, The Jews of Ancient Rome (Philadelphia, 1960), while the best collection of the art remains E. R. Goodenough, Jewish Symbols in the Greco-Roman Period, vol. 3 (New York, 1953).
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he is writingto communitiesin Asia Minorand not, at firstblush,speaking about Antioch.22 Second, and more pressing, is whether or not Ignatius speaks of Jewish-Christianity at all. This depends in large part on one's definition of Jewish-Christianity and its relationship to Judaizing. These issues are discussed below. John Chrysostom speaks clearly about the situation in his own church in Antioch. Again, one must decide whether the Judaizers whom he excoriates are to be counted as Jewish-Christians. Despite the possible lack of evidence from these two main Christian sources on Antioch, most historians of the
there. I suspectthat this is a wise city write about the Jewish-Christianity course, if for no other reason than the probabilities of demography in antiquity.23 Theologies also varied widely among the Jewish-Christian communities. There were those who no doubt merely professed Christ as Messiah. Others were ready to admit of Jesus as Son of God (see the reports in Jerome and Epiphanius). One can be sure that the complexities of Jewish-Christian Christology extended into the higher realms as well, with some communities professing Jesus as God. The last profession necessitated at minimum a kind of dualistic theology, and one presumes that in the theological whirlwind of the fourth century there were some forms of Trinitarian communities, too. Other aspects of the Christology of some Jewish-Christians are known. Jerome reports communities who professed that Jesus was born of the virgin, suffered the passion, and was resurrected. Available evidence does not tell us much about the cosmologies of Jewish-Christians (unless the Gnostic literatures on this subject are considered Jewish-Christian) or other theological considerations. Given the extraordinary range of theological debate in the church from the second through the fifth century, this lack of information is perhaps surprising, but comes as somewhat of a relief. Extra information on theology would provide the temptation of aligning Jewish22. See particularly Barrett, "Jews and Judaisers." On Ignatian problems in general, see the discussions and bibliographies in W. Schoedel, Ignatius of Antioch (Philadelphia, 1985), and idem, "Theological Norms and Social Perspectives in Ignatius of Antioch," in E. P. Sanders, ed., Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. 1 (Philadelphia, 1980), pp. 34 ff. 23. See Wilken, John Chrysostom and the Jews; Meeks and Wilken, Jews and Christiansin Antioch; G. Downey, A History ofAntioch in Syria (Princeton, 1961); J. H. W. G. Leibschuetz, Antioch.:City and Imperial Administrationin the Later Roman Empire (Oxford, 1972); and the older works by C. H. Kraeling, "The Jewish Community at Antioch," Journal of Biblical Literature 51 (1932): 130-160; and S. Krauss, "Antioche," Revue des 6tudesjuives 45 (1902): 27-49, and idem, s.v. "Antioch," Jewish Encyclopedia 1:632 f.
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Christianities with certain other "theological heresies." The state of JewishChristian studies is not ready for such a lure to misadventure. More than two decades ago Marcel Simon commented on the importance of observances in defining Jewish-Christianities.24Particularly in light of Rabbinic Judaism's emphasis on law observance, this area requires much more attention than Simon's suggestions have attracted. First, one must consider varieties of law observance; the "Jewish" side, if you will, of Jewish-Christianities. Foremost among these observances is circumcision. Since New Testament times this has been the subject of active debate in Christian communities. Since there were even rabbinic Jews prepared to forgo the requirement of circumcision,25one must at least speculate on the possibility of Jewish-Christian communities in which circumcision was not one of the required observances. Obviously, there were communities which did require circumcision. One wonders, however, how firmly they clung to this requirement in light of Roman (and later Roman-Christian) legislation against the practice. Another requirement of law-observant Jewish communities was ritual immersion (as distinct from Christian baptism). This demanded a ritual immersion pool (mikvah) holding a given amount of "living," that is, flowing, water (for Rabbinic Judaism, 40 seahs). The mikvah was probably used for conversion rituals for both men and women. It was also used, in Rabbinic Judaism and at Qumran, for restoring ritual fitness (taharah). Literary evidence offers very little about the use of the mikvah in JewishChristianity, but archaeological data may yield information. They will only do so, however, when the possibility of mikvah among Jewish-Christians is included in the interpretation of sites (i.e., a mikvah on a site does not automatically make it a Jewish site, nor does an immersion pool in a church automatically have to be a baptismal font). Eating customs varied widely in antiquity, even among Jewish communities. Thus it is possible that some followed the biblical dietary laws but nevertheless transgressed the rabbinic laws of kashrut. The sectarians of Qumran had their own ways of eating. Acts 15 offers a series of food laws
24. Simon, "Problemes du Judeo-Christianisme" (see n. 1). 25. See the texts adduced in L. Schiffman, "At the Crossroads: Tannaitic Perspectives on the Jewish-Christian Schism," in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition (Philadelphia, 1981), 2:115-156, and idem, Who Was a Jew? (Hoboken, 1985). Schiffman's analyses view the evidence through modern Orthodox Jewry's perspectives.
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(this belongs more properly below under church custom) which may or may not have been observed. The Cologne Mani Codex evidences vegetarianism. In the rabbinic communities, great care was taken regarding table fellowship, so that hiaverimwould not eat with others. Since table companions formed small communities, Jewish-Christian communities may be distinguished from one another based on their eating customs. Christian literature offers us very little information about the general eating habits of JewishChristians. Jerome and Epiphanius refer to the Sabbath and festival observances of the Jewish-Christian communities they describe. Do they refer only to a Saturday Sabbath rather than Sunday, or are there specific observances attached? Do some Jewish-Christian groups refrain from labor on the Sabbath? If so, do they refrain from the same labors as rabbinic Jews? Qumranites? Pagan authors observed the Jewish custom of Sabbath candlelighting.26 Did Jewish-Christians share this practice? It seems the JewishChristians frequented the Temple when it stood;27did synagogue attendance become the norm following 70?28 Both pagan and Christian authors attest to a variety of Jewish fasts, some on the Sabbath. While the latter are usually dismissed as misperceptions, the question is by no means closed. Rabbinic Judaism knows of Sabbath fasting (e.g., b.Taanit 12b, where it is permitted to fast on the Sabbath to avert the effects of a bad dream); why must uninformed pagan minds necessarily err? Like small children, they may well report accurately the mysteries they observe. Were any of the Jewish-Christian communities partners to these fasts? Jerome also writes of offering sacrifices. Here, too, the literary evidence is dismissed out of hand-after 70 there could not have been sacrifice. Why not? There is rabbinic evidence showing a serious concern about sacrificing after the Temple's destruction.29Perhaps the Jewish-Christian communities of whom Jerome speaks took the levitical prescriptions requiring sacrifice seriously enough to ignore or reinterpret the deuteronomic prohibitions against sacrifice outside of the Jerusalem Temple. The Qumran community 26. See M. Stern, Pagan Authors on Jews and Judaism (Jerusalem, 1974), 1:422, 436. 27. See Brown, "Not Jewish Christianity." 28. John Chrysostom writes about his Judaizers going to the synagogues to hear the shofar blowing, take oaths, and the like. His Judaizers also attended the shrine of Matrona(?). 29. See, most recently, the discussion and references in B. Bokser, The Origins of the Seder (Berkeley, 1984), pp. 101-106.
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might also offer archaeological evidence for such non-Temple sacrifices. Last on the list of suggested "Jewish" observances to be considered in the study of Jewish-Christianities is clothing. There is ample evidence that a variety of garments distinguished Jews from non-Jews. First were the biblically enjoined phylacteries and fringes. There is New Testament and archaeological evidence for the former. But there are other dress elements which also distinguished Jews. Art shows us a gamma pattern woven into Jewish clothing. This was later adopted by the Great Church and persists today in the altar cloth. Did Jewish-Christians adorn themselves with gamma cloth? Were they the means by which the pattern came to the church? Finally, the rabbis seem to have carried a wallet and worn a mantle (see, e.g., m.RH 2:9), as did members of the philosophic schools. Did any Jewish-Christians consider themselves sufficiently aligned to philosophy (as did the Great Church) that they might have adopted this special garb as well? After consideration of this dizzying array of practices (which are but a sampling of possible Jewish observances that the Jewish-Christians may have shared), one must also look to their "Christian" rituals. Again, a brief listing of practices which marked distinctions in church communities must suffice. The obvious place to start asking questions about "church" ritual in Jewish-Christianities is at the baptismal font. Was baptism required for "conversion"? Was it accomplished by total immersion, or did aspersion suffice? When were Jewish-Christians baptized-at birth, at the age of reason, or perhaps on the deathbed? Was there but one baptism, or could there be further baptisms for impurities of one sort or another, like mikvah? If baptism was not like mikvah, one still must ask about the possibility of a second baptism following the custom of exhomologesis. Finally, one may inquire about the role of chrism in Jewish-Christian forms of baptism. Water also raises the issue of types of eucharist, since there is evidence that some communities performed the sacrament with water in place of wine.30 Water generates many questions and must suffice for the present as a guide to investigating types of "church" ritual in Jewish-Christian communities. Rituals such as baptism and circumcision lead one to considerations about the demographic makeup of the varying Jewish-Christian communi30. See, e.g., Acts of Thomas 120 (Edgar Hennecke, New TestamentApocrypha, edited by W. Schneemelcher [Philadelphia, 1965], 2:507 and see p. 438), and Irenaeus, Adv. haer, V. 1, 3 (see Klijn and Reinink, Patristic Evidencefor Jewish Christian Sects, p. 72, n. 4).
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ties. I suspect that the simplest way to approach this very complicated issue of prosopography is by inquiring about the parentage of members of these groups. Were they law-observant Jews? Law-observant Christians (I am not clear whether this necessarily means they were Jewish-Christians, it depends upon defining the term)? Perhaps the parents were non-law-observant Jews (there must have been a substantial number in every big city with a Jewish population). Of course, the parents could have been Christians from the law-free church, or pagans. The Jewish-Christian communities may have required differing levels of observance from those of varying parentage. Thus, a Jewish-Christian coming from a law-observant Jewish family might have been required to remain law-observant, while a Jewish-Christian coming from a pagan background might only have had the requirements of Acts 15 laid upon him-we do not know. That varying degrees of ritual observance may have been enjoined upon members of the same community, depending upon their origins, must be admitted as a possibility. Unfortunately, this possibility exacerbates an already difficult situation if one was intending to sort out varieties of Jewish-Christianity by means of their observances. One last issue must be considered in this section about types of JewishChristianities, and that is the relations of each of these groups with other Christian communities (the Jewish ones are discussed below). Here, chronology surfaces as a vexing problem which has otherwise remained lurking beneath the study of Jewish-Christianities. In the beginning, all Christians were Jewish-Christians. Later, but still during the New Testament era, the Jewish-Christians were generally identified with the Jerusalem community.3' Still later, Eusebius moved the Jewish-Christian community to Pella, and somewhat later than that, they moved themselves.32Of course, this movement of Jewish-Christianity was not simply a linear progression of one community, as R. E. Brown and J. L. Martyn have shown. But their works have only opened the door to understanding the varieties of JewishChristianity extant in the first century. On the other side of the time line, we find Jewish-Christians and
31. See Brown, "Not Jewish Christianity." 32. See G. Lidemann, "The Successors of Pre-70 Jerusalem Christianity: A Critical Evaluation of the Pella-Tradition," in E. P. Sanders, ed., Jewish and Christian Self-Definition (Philadelphia, 1980), 1:161-173; and cf. M. Simon, "La migration APella: legende ou realite?" Recherches de science religieuse 60 (1972): 37-54.
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Judaizers flourishing in the fourth and fifth centuries (so, e.g., in the reports of Jerome, Epiphanius, and John Chrysostom). While we have more information about these groups, we also remain far from writing the authoritative history of Jewish-Christianities in that period. As for the middle ground-the second and third centuries-not only does it remain obscure for the history of Jewish-Christianities, but it raises the question of continuity between the New Testament Jewish-Christians and those described by the later church fathers.33 The question of continuity, of "apostlicity," if you will, affects the relationships of these Jewish-Christian churches with others. If a JewishChristian community could claim direct lineage with, say, the community of James, brother of Jesus, another church would be hard-pressed to excommunicate them without first refuting the claim. Even without direct continuity, churches were sensitive enough to varieties of practice and theology to recognize some legitimacy in Jewish-Christian claims. Nevertheless, the theological necessities of the law-free church forced them to take a rigid rather than assimilative stance toward law-observant Christian communities. Hence in attempting to define the parameters of such a community, one must inquire into the relationship of any Jewish-Christian sect with the "Great Church," the Eastern churches (e.g., the Marcionites, those described by Bauer in the first chapter of Orthodoxy and Heresy, and those behind the Cologne Mani Codex), and other Christian communities.
Problems of Perception I have consistently noted that one of the chief problems in the study of Jewish-Christianities is, quite simply, defining the parameters of the discipline. While it is true that such definition is a concern of virtually every scholarly discipline, it is acute in the study of Jewish-Christianities. First, there is no broad consensus of definition about the terminology.34 Second, the evidence we have is fragmentary. For although the church fathers do write about Jewish-Christianities, and the rabbis seem to as well, the overall corpus of their own literature has been denied to us through the combined 33. E.g., J. Munck, "Primitive Jewish Christianity and Later Jewish Christianity: Continuation or Rupture?" in Aspects du Judeo-Christianisme,pp. 77-93. Munck favors rupture. 34. See above, n. 1.
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efforts of censorshipand the ravagesof time. Third, the problemis acute because of the need to addressthe many issues alreadyoutlined above. I wish to addressthe first issue here, the problemof definition.Aside from the obvious kinds of quibblingthat scholarsengagein when marking out the bordersof their disciplinesand attemptingto justify encroachment on their colleagues'preservesby claiming a need for intellectualLebenscarrieswith it four other problems raum,the study of Jewish-Christianities in definition.The first relatesto the generalissues of Jewishand Christian self-definition.35As I have indicated by my separation of theology and observance above, there are varying ways of approaching JewishChristianity.One must recognizethat each of the ways carrieswith it relias a systemor systemsof gious overtones.ApproachingJewish-Christianity beliefsis to approachthe subjectfroman essentiallyGreatChurchChristian point of view. Similarly,approachingJewish-Christianities by the observancesthey practiceis to approachthem from a Jewish Weltanschauung.36 An attemptat synthesizingthese two modes of approachmay not only well serve the study of Jewish-Christianity,but may also have the happy side effect of mitigatingthe religiousbiases of those studyingit.37 The next aspect of the problem of perception relates to the overall influenceof Judaismon Christianity.38 It cannotbe deniedthatJudaismhad an immenseformativeinfluenceon Christianityand that its influencecontinued, though radicallycurtailed,throughoutthe patristicperiod. I speak here of Great ChurchChristianity(whateverthat may be), with full awareness of the profound effects paganism,philosophy, and other aspects of Hellenismhad in drawingthe churchaway from the synagogue.This being the case, however, merely identifyingJewish elements,even rabbinicelements, in Christiantexts does not provethem Jewish-Christianin origin.A clear definitionof Jewish-Christianity must overcomethe enormousdiffithis in culty problemposes sortingout the originsand sourcesof any given community's(or text's) traditions. The third issue of definitionrelatesto drawingbordersin very difficult territory.Whenis a Christiana Jewish-Christianand not merelya Judaizer? 35. E. P. Sanders and his colleagues at MacMaster University have edited three notable volumes on the overall subject, called Jewish and Christian Self-Definition. None of the chapters deals with this specific aspect of the problem. 36. Simon, "Problems du Judeo-Christianisme," pp. 1-17. 37. See below. 38. See Danielou and Kraft, cited above, n. 1.
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Need he be circumcised? I have suggested above that this may not be a hard-and-fast requirement for Jewish-Christianity (or Rabbinic Judaism). Need he merely profess Christ? If so, and if he is a law-observer, when does he cease to be a Jew with odd notions about Jesus and become, instead, a Jewish-Christian?39Does it depend on his Christology? I have suggested above that there are equally low and high Christologies to be found in the Jewish-Christian communities of antiquity. What, also, of the God-fearers, those semi-proselytes who were fellow travelers of the Jewish communities and were proselytized by the church?40In what category of Christianity, Judaism, or Jewish-Christianity will they be classified? A final issue in the perception and definition of Jewish-Christianities lies in the biases of the observers. Among Christian scholars there are two tendencies which skew analyses. The first, which is very much in line with classical pre-Vatican II church theology, assumes that all Jews must ultimately become Christians. Thus Jewish-Christianity is to be understood as a stepping stone in the "evolution" of Judaism to Christianity. Scholars with this view evince no sympathy for Jewish-Christianity as an authentic religious phenomenon. The second tendency is related, and it presumes JewishChristianity to be an aberrant form of "real" Christianity, much as did the heresiologists. Almost all writers before Walter Bauer exhibited this tendency, and many still subscribe to its views. Again, it does not elicit either objective or sympathetic analysis of a religion in late antiquity. Jewish scholars have a somewhat different set of biases when treating Jewish-Christianity. The first bias presumes it to be merely a Christian heresy, wholly unrelated to Judaism. This attitude causes scholars to overlook the evidence of Jewish-Christianity in rabbinic literature in particular. The second bias also refuses to offer integrity to Jewish-Christianity and treats it as merely a Jewish heresy. This bias results in an ecumenically more dangerous approach. It assumes that since the Jewish-Christians are really "Jews" and not "Christians," certain rabbinic polemics may be characterized as anti-Jewish-Christian and thus presented as a "family argument" of
39. These questions particularly affect one's views on Ignatius' and Chrysostom's "Judaizers" in Antioch. 40. Kraabel, "Disappearance of the God-Fearers," pp. 113 ff., tries very hard to make them disappear. He ignores substantial rabbinic evidence to do this and has been recently confuted by epigraphic evidence; see n. 16 above.
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antiquity.4' The assertion that such polemics are in no way anti-Christian ignores not only the authenticity of Jewish-Christianity as a religious phenomenon, but the sensitivities of modern Christians as well. The issues surveyed thus far, and particularly the last set of biases discussed, prepare us to enter a specific discipline and survey its potential for a contribution to the study of Jewish-Christianities. The survey is in no way exhaustive. It is rather, as indicated at the outset of this essay, merely a chart for navigating the confluence of the two bodies of religious literature.
Jewish-Christianityin Rabbinic Literature Only recently have scholars of rabbinic literature begun actively considering Jewish-Christians as possible targets of rabbinic polemic. Previously, the assumption had been that such passages were directed against Christians without any niceties of distinction.42More recently, for the apologetic reasons cited above, the pendulum has swung to the other extreme, citing only Jewish-Christians and virtually eliminating Great Church Christians as the objects of rabbinic polemic. A middle ground must be steered, especially on the polemical materials, since the texts themselves attest to rabbinic awareness of both types of Christianities.43 Nonpolemical texts also offer testimonies to both Christianity and Jewish-Christianities. In both sets of rabbinic materials (often hard to distinguish from one another) there are a wide variety of problems for the student to overcome. Primary among these is chronology. Rabbinic material includes more than a millennium of literature produced in many centers. Even the classical talmudic phase of rabbinic literature covers more than four centuries (ca. 70-500) and two major locales (Palestine and Babylonia). Despite repeated warnings, especially on the part of New Testament scholars, problems in rabbinic chronology remain largely ignored. It is not at all
41. See R. Kimelman, "Birkat Ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity," in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, vol. 2 (London, 1981), pp. 226-244. 42. This is betrayed in the titles, if not always the content, of books on the subject, e.g., R. T. Herford, Christianity in Talmud and Midrash (London, 1903). 43. See, e.g., my "Overturning the Lamp," Journal of Jewish Studies 38 (1987): 72-80 and "Trinitarian Testimonies," USQR, 42 (1988): 73-85.
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unusual to see eighth- through eleventh-century documents cited as sources for second- through fifth-century history. These anachronisms are perpetuated by Jewish and Christian scholars alike. A concomitant to this problem is the fact that technical terminology does not remain static in the literature. Thus a term may mean one thing in tannaitic times (ca. 70-200) and quite another in amoraic literature (ca. 200-500). Or a term may mean one thing in Babylonia and another in Palestine. Worse, there are variations in technical terms even among the different schools in a given country (e.g., the "schools" of Akiba and Yishmael in second-century Palestine). Again, what may be a very specific term for one sage may mean something else entirely to another. Finally, certain sages seem to purposely embrace ambiguity and obfuscate their meanings (perhaps because of delators) in their choice of multivalent terminology. This is especially true in the polemical literature. Having offered this pessimistic assessment for the possibilities of making any sense whatsoever out of rabbinic literature, let me list seven terms that are most popularly taken to have some bearing on the study of JewishChristianities. Chief among them is min, a rabbinic catchall which translates simply as "sectarian." The term abounds in the literature and refers, one suspects, to everything from Christian to Jewish-Christian to Qumranite, Zadokite, and later, even Karaite. Since the time of Jerome (Ep. 112.13), attempts to define this term have been doomed to failure because of its purposely broad lexical range.44Nevertheless, one may be sure that among the minim one will find some Jewish-Christians. Another popular rubric is notsri, which is variously etymologized as referring to Nazareth, nazirites, or the shoot (netser) of the Davidic monarchy who will sprout forth as the messiah. These "heretics" are often identified with the Nazorenes (or Nazarenes) listed in Christian literature and discussed above. 45 They may be Jewish-Christians, they may be Great Church Christians; I, for one, do not know. I suspect we cannot resolve the issue any more definitely here than we may for the minim because of the many reasons already suggested. A third term often found in rabbinic literature is nokhrim, which means
44. Thus the simple definitions offered by Schiffman (above, n. 25) and Kimelman (above, n. 41) cannot stand; but see their notes for full bibliography on attempts to limit the scope of the term. 45. See Kimelman, "Birkat Ha-Minim."
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"strangers."It is euphemisticand so the antecedentis somewhatunclear. Again, as with the previousterms,it seems to referto both types of Christians. Here the problem is more acute, for it may also suggest Roman pagans. Two other words refer to converts from Judaism to other religions-usually to Christianity or Jewish-Christianity. The first, mumar, refers to one who has changed his ideology; the second, meshumad, to one who has been baptized.46Each of these two terms is very suggestive for the
since the rabbiswerereluctantto admitthat study of Jewish-Christianities, one born a Jew could convert away from Judaism. This would be especially true when such a one might still have been law-observant to some degree.
A separatecategoryto be consideredin the studyof Jewish-Christianity is made up of those who subscribed to the notion of two Powers in heaven. This term implies a dualism which may well have been found in the theologies of some Jewish-Christian sects. I would in no way, however, limit the meaning of this term to Jewish-Christians alone. Rabbinic terminology of this type is far too fluid to be limited to merely one or two specific sects exclusively.47 The last item I wish to attend to here is really two separate terms, each of was substituted by censors over the centuries, in place of original terms which referredto Christianity and Jewish-Christianity. Thus passages which contain references to 'akum (an acronym for 'ovdei kokhavim umazalot, "constellation worshippers") might refer to idol worship. On the other hand, they may well refer to the Christianities being considered. Reference to manuscripts, particularly Sephardic ones not written in regions dominated by Christianity, usually restores the original reading. The same holds true of the other term often substituted by zealous censors, vaduqim("Zadokites" or "Sadducees"). In both instances, context is often the best clue for finding a Christian or Jewish-Christian hiding behind a "new" reading. Rabbinic literature recognizes the existence of Jews who did not live under rabbinic discipline. There are a large number of references to 'amei 'ares, hoi polloi who have some affinity for rabbinic halacha, yet are not as strict about it as haberim.48 The rabbis also recognize other groups of law-
46. See Schiffman, Who Was a Jew? 47. Alan Segal, Two Powers in Heaven (Leiden, 1977), collects all of the rabbinic passages with this phrase. 48. See A. Oppenheimer, The Am Ha-Aretz (Leiden, 1977).
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observant Jews, particularly pre-70 sectarians. Hence there are references to Sadducees, Haemerobaptists, and other separatists.49 More important to the study of Jewish-Christianities, especially in light of the considerations adduced above, are rabbinic references to semiproselytes, God-fearers, and others of unsure status in the rabbinic community. In addition to the sebomenoi and theobomenoi of Greek literature, the rabbis speak of yer'ei shamayim ("fearers of Heaven"). These fellowtravelers with the Jewish community constituted a class by themselves, frequently discussed in the literature. They are often considered with proselytes of dubious status, such as the gerei 'arayot (usually translated as "lion proselytes").50Obviously, they are a fertile ground for Jewish-Christianity, both for the ancient missionizer and the modern scholar. The Ten Tribes Investigating evidence of semi-proselytes and the like in rabbinic literature is no simple matter. As Prof. Saul Lieberman points out, It is very probablethat the people employeddifferentnamesfor the various groups of semi-converts,but in the comparativelyscarcematerialon them, clear evidenceof such distinctdefinitionsis not forthcoming.However,it is possiblethat remnantsof these differenttermshavebeen preservedin Talmudic literature.5 Indeed, among the many terms listed above for "heretics" and other not quite up to par rabbinic Jews, one often finds another slippery, multivalent expression: the Ten Tribes ('aseret hashevatim). I wish to suggest here that this term be added to the list of those others which might bear fruit for the study of Jewish-Christianities in rabbinic literature. 49. S. Lieberman, "The Discipline of the So-Called Dead Sea Manual of Discipline," Texts and Studies (New York, 1974), pp. 200-207. For other separatists the rabbis used the term perushim, otherwise translated Pharisees. See E. Rivkin, Hebrew Union College Annual, 1969, pp. 205 ff. 50. See Kraabel, n. 16 above. The seminal study remains S. Lieberman, "Gentiles and Semi-Proselytes," in his Greek in Jewish Palestine (New York, 1942), pp. 64-90. 51. Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine, p. 82. This section on the Ten Tribes is a revised and condensed version of a paper I delivered to the Early Rabbinic Studies Section of the Society for Biblical Literature, Dec. 20, 1982. My thanks to Profs. Shaye J. D. Cohen, J. L. Martyn, and Richard Sarason for their comments on the earlier draft.
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The "lost tribes" crop up in talmudic and midrashic texts among many groups, but particularly those with some affinities for Judaism. Of course, the rabbis often refer simply to the Ten Tribes of the Bible (1 Kings 11:31, 35) and their historic disappearance. But sometimes one must wonder if they are entirely assimilated in the sages' eyes. Rav Yehuda quoted the Babylonian Ray Asi, "We worry nowadays about the marriage of a gentile, lest he be from the Ten Tribes."52If the good rabbi is worrying about a descendant of the long-lost tribes, one can only marvel at the tenacious way Babylonians hold on to the memory of their ancestors. But perhaps the referenceto the Ten Tribes indicates an interest in a much more contemporary phenomenon: Jewish converts to law-observant Jewish-Christianity. This may explain both the rabbis' inability to happily categorize them and the fact that they are often classified with semi-converts and non-Jews.53 Thus, Leviticus Rabbah comments on Psalm 22:24, Yethatfear GodpraiseHim,all ye theseedof JacobglorifyHim. R. Yehoshua b. Levi said, Ye thatfear God refersto the fearersof Heaven. R. Samuelb. Nahmansaid, It refersto full proselytes.R. Abbahusaid in the name of R. Eleazar,If [fearersof Heavenare consideredas] full proselytes[and]will be admittedin the FutureWorld,Antoninuswill come at the headof them.And what is impliedby All ye the seed of JacobglorifyHim?It refersto the Ten Tribes.54 A much later midrash preserves yet another tradition linking the Ten Tribes with partial converts, "Sheep (Gen. 32:5) refers to the Ten Tribes... and menservantsand maidservants(ibid.) refers to the fearers of Heaven."'"55 The Palestinian Talmud, discussing a parallel passage to the midrash extracted above, comments: R. Lazarand R. Yehuda[disagreed].One said,They [theTenTribes]werenot exiled until they becameuncircumcised.The othersaid, Theywerenot exiled 52. See b.Yebam 16a-17a and b.Nidda 56b. 53. E.g., b.Yebam 17a, where Samuel considers the Ten Tribes to be entirely non-Jewish; the pericope goes on to consider Samaritans, who are deemed either true proselytes (gerei 'emet) or dubious ones (gerei 'arayot). 54. LevR 3:2, following the interpretation of Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine, pp. 82f. Cf. j.San 29c. 55. Sekhel Tovto Gen 32:5 (ed. Buber, 181). Lieberman comments: "The Palestinian tradition seems to have compared the fate of the 'fearers of heaven' to that of the Ten Tribes" (Greek in Jewish Palestine, p. 83, n. 114).
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until they becamemamzerim.The one who said uncircumcised[meantthat theywereso in regardto actual]circumcision[andin regardto observanceof] the commandments.The one who said mamzerim[meant that they were estranged]from their ancestors.R. Yohanansaid, The Israeliteswere not exiled until they had become twenty-foursects of heretics(minim).56 The discussion seems to offer intriguing information about the Ten Tribes. There is some disagreement as to their practice of circumcision and observance of commandments. There is the clear opinion that they are not fit to marry rabbinic Jews but are still considered Israelites nevertheless-for that is what it meant to be a mamzer.57 Finally, the editor of the Talmud classifies them with minim by juxtaposition of rabbinic opinions. In the rabbinic literature surveyed thus far, the Ten Tribes are associated with God-fearers, and dubious converts. There is a question about their circumcision and observance of Jewish law. They are considered by at least one rabbi to be Jews but unfit to marry within the community. The locales of these communities of Ten Tribes are often listed in rabbinic texts when tracing the exile of the biblical lost tribes. The same passage of the Palestinian Talmud reports: "Israel [viz., The Ten Tribes] was exiled to three places. First, beyond the River Sanbatyon. Second, to Daphne of Antioch; and third, the Cloud [of Glory] descended and covered them."58 Yet another midrash locates the Ten Tribes in Antioch, as Leviticus Rabbah comments on Amos 6: Ah,you whoareat ease in Zionrefersto the tribesof Judahand Benjamin.And confidenton thehill of Samaria,this refersto the TenTribes... . Crossoverto Calnehandsee refersto Ktesiphon.Gofrom thereto great Hamathrefersto hamatof Antioch.Andgo downto Gathof thePhilistines-that is the fortresses of Palestine.59 Asia Minor is offered as a possible locale in the curious statement of R. Helbo, "The wine of Phrygia and the waters of Emmaus (or: Demosit) did in
56. j.San 29c. 57. See Schiffman, Who Was a Jew? 58. j.San 29c and LamR 2:9, GenR 73:6, PesRabbati 31. Cf. Josephus, WarVII, 96-99, and Pliny, Natural History 31:11, for Sanbatyon. 59. LevR 5:3 and YalSh Amos #545.
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the Ten Tribes."60The juxtaposition of sacramental wine and water is also suggestive of Jewish-Christian or Christian referents for the term, Ten Tribes, used here. The rabbis puzzled over the ultimate fate of the Ten Tribes. If the term does refer to law-observant Jewish-Christian converts from Judaism, one readily understands the rabbis' reluctance to give up on them entirely. As explained above, such observant Jews could be viewed as within the broad pale of rabbinic Judaism-the rabbis were loath to lose even one Jew of their number, no matter what they thought about Jesus. Yet others (like R. Samuel cited in n. 53) considered them lost to Judaism-they were Christians through and through. This ambiguity might explain a debate found in the chapter of Mishna which begins "All Israel have a place in the world to come," and then goes on to list the twenty exceptions to the rule. The Ten Tribeswill not return[=repent]in the future,as it is said, And [God]cast themintoanotherland,as thisday(Deut. 29:27).Justas the daygoes and does not return,so they havegone and will not return;this is the opinion of R. Akiba. R. Eliezersays, As thisday,just as a day beginsin darknessand grows light, so too the Ten Tribeswho are now in darknesswill have light in the future.6' If the term Ten Tribes is one of the ambiguous code words used in rabbinic literature, it offers rich possibilities for further research in JewishChristianities. I would suggest that the term is a rabbinic response to the Christian claims of being verus Israel. The various Jewish-Christian churches claimed to be the true Israel and referred to themselves as the Twelve Tribes.62The rabbis, whatever they may have thought about the ultimate fate of these Jewish-Christians, denigrated this claim. Only rabbinic Jews were the true Israel, the faithful remnant of Benjamin and Judah. As for the Jewish-Christian pretenders, the rabbis dismissed them as "lost." Some denied them even a share in the world-to-come. Yet by virtue of their 60. b.Shab 147b; cf. ARN A 14, ARN B 29, and LevR 5:3. For wine as the cause of the destruction of the Ten Tribes, see GenR 36:4, LevR 12:1, EstR 5:1, NumR 9:7 (where they are also accused of wife-swapping), TanB Noah 22-all based on exegesis of Amos 6. For other locales of exile, see b.Yebam 16b-17a, b.Kid 72a, and b.San 94a-b. 61. m.San 10:3, cf. t.San, chap. 13, b.San 110b, j.San 29c. 62. So Epistle of James 1:1. R. E. Brown (Antioch and Rome, p. 131, n. 277) comments that the epistle "is addressed to the twelve tribes (Jewish Christians [sic]) in the diaspora."
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Jewish birth and law observance they were accorded the dubious title of the Ten Tribes.
Conclusion The inclusion of the phrase Ten Tribes with the other rabbinic terms of reference discussed above completes this survey. Rabbinics scholars will, no doubt, have many details to add to my sketch of the field and its potential for the study of Jewish-Christianities. On the other hand, church historians will wish to fill many noticeable lacunae in my overview of nonrabbinic materials. My intention was neither to be comprehensive nor completeothers far more competent than I will spend years completing the task. The purpose of this prolegomenon has been to offer those in other disciplines a guide to the eddies and swirls one encounters in the study of JewishChristianities. This navigational report of my attempts to steer a course is meant to help other students chart their own routes. Jewish-Christianities is a subject which falls outside of the traditionally defined parameters in the study of Judaism and Christianity. Only when scholars in all of the attendant disciplines combine their expertise can the subject be adequately illuminated. JewishTheologicalSeminary New York
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Michael A. Signer Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 71-74 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486285 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
BOOK REVIEWS Robert Chazan. European Jewry and the First Crusade. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1987. 380 pp. Fifty years after Kristallnacht the image of Jewish martyrdom remains a significant issue for historians and theologians of Judaism. It has been considered axiomatic that both the theological and historical origins of this concept are to be traced to the violent upheavals of the First Crusade in 1096. The parallels are seductive: Europe united under the banner of the cross; religious zealotry rampant; Jews regarded as aliens, and thus as a foreshadowing of the foreign enemy; Germany the locale of most of the destroyed communities. A narrative framework can be established with perfect symmetry. Historians of medieval Jewry who make no explicit reference to the Shoah consider the First Crusade as a turning point in the history of German Jewry.' Robert Chazan's European Jewry and the First Crusade challenges this symmetry. His basic purpose is to demonstrate that Jews lived in a "shared environment with the Christian community" (p. 3). This proposition establishes a framework for the interpretation of the Jewish documents from the period of the First Crusade in the context of the European economic and cultural milieu.2 By adopting a viewpoint which places Jews as a part of European culture rather than apart from that world, Chazan is able to break up the intertwining of history and theology which has tended to homogenize
1. Ben Zion Dinur, ed., Yisrael baGolah, 2nd ed., 2 vols in 8 (Tel Aviv, 1958-72), 2:bk 1:1; Haim Hillel Ben Sasson, ed., A History of the Jewish People (Cambridge, Mass., 1976), pp. 413-420; Irving Agus, The Heroic Age of Ashkenazi Jewry (New York, 1969). 2. It was precisely this formulation that led B. Blumenkranz to a new interpretation of Jewish-Christian relations in the period of late antiquity and the early Middle Ages; Juifs et Chrdtiensdans le Monde Occidentale.:430-1096 (Paris, 1960), pp. ix-xix.
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all the events that occurred in Europe between the eleventh and fifteenth centuries. Chazan's argument is developed in a logical sequence. First, what was the milieu of the First Crusade? Second, what sort of documents constitute the Jewish response to this world? Third, how does the concept of martyrdom as it appears in these documents compare to subsequent Jewish formulations? Finally, how did the experience of the First Crusade affect both Jews and Christians in later periods? The eleventh and twelfth centuries were a period of growth and expansion in the European economy. Jews were a part of the development of trade and cities. There was a pervasive atmosphere of danger and violence for all who engaged in these new ventures. The church, in the person of the bishop, attempted to mediate this violence and establish peace and order. It is precisely this balance which, Chazan argues, was disturbed by the First Crusade (pp. 75-79). Religious zeal as expressed by the mobs was an oversimplification and radicalization of the balance between toleration and regulation which had characterized ecclesiastical teaching since the period of the church fathers. In the Hebrew Chronicles, which reflect the activities of the Jewish communities, Chazan establishes patterns of Jewish response. He argues, against Ivan Marcus, that these Chronicles do not reveal a "paradigm shift." Rather, there were identifiable patterns of behavior and thought which are particularly striking to the extent that they represent departures from prior modes of Jewish behavior and thought" (p. 49).3 Jews reacted by (1) dealing directly with the crusaders; (2)turning to fellow townsmen for aid: (3) addressing authorities either imperial or ecclesiastical for intervention; (4) physical self-defense; (5) apostasy; or (6) martyrdom. It is martyrdom which appears to be the most original response of the Jewish communities. Searching back into the rabbinic sources, Chazan determines that the Jewish martyrdoms during the Crusades cannot be directly connected to earlier models. Rather, they were a radical reinterpretation of the tradition that comported with the religious zeal of the cultural environment. Just as Christians went on the Crusades to suffer and sacrifice themselves for Christ, 3. Cf. Ivan G. Marcus, "From Politics to Martyrdom: Shifting Paradigms in the Hebrew Narratives of the 1096 Crusading Riots," Prooftexts 2 (1982): 40:52. Chazan presents the details of his argument with Marcus on p. 308, n. 21. What is most impressive is that both authors argue that the hermeneutical framework for discussing the Chronicles should be literary patterns rather than empirical verification.
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Jews resumed the Temple sacrifice in a radical and personal reinterpretation. The binding of Isaac received a new context as a model for activism. By rejecting the Christian typology of the binding of Isaac, Jews became the true sacrifice, as they hoped their martyrdom would evoke divine intervention on their behalf. The Crusade Chronicles reveal an imaginative reinterpretation of older codes of religious behavior and symbol systems. Chazan articulates their purpose as a Jewish countercrusade against the Christians (pp. 132-133). The impulse toward active martyrdom was modified by the time of the Second Crusade. Instead, the events of 1096 were absorbed into a framework of memorialization. Chazan rejects the Bible and Midrashim as appropriate literary antecedents for the Chronicles. He prefers to look outside the Jewish community to the Latin Chronicles of the Crusades and the vernacular Chansons de Geste, which were produced out of the intense spiritual exhilaration characteristic of the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries. More concretely, Chazan utilizes the introduction to Fulcher of Chartres' Gesta Francorum to suggest a title for the Hebrew reports. If the Gesta Francorum were composed to relate "the illustrious deeds of the Franks" and "God's miracles which occurred among them," then the Hebrew Chronicles might be titled "The Deeds of the Communities of Ashkenaz and the Way in which they Sanctified the Unique Divine Name" (p. 151). It is this cross-cultural understanding which leads Chazan to the conclusion that the Hebrew Chronicles belong to the literary genre of the "epic of defeat," wherein a small force is outnumbered and overwhelmed by its cultural inferiors but manages to survive. The epic of defeat holds out the promise of an ultimate victory that will transcend the immediate crisis. For those who lived through the Crusades, the Chronicles served to memorialize their having passed a test whose reward would be divine intervention-a message of consolation and hope. Chazan claims this was true for both Christian and Jewish Chronicles. Subsequent Crusades did not evoke radical literary exhortations from the Jewish communities. Stronger temporal or ecclesiastical institutions prevented recurrences of the chaotic zeal of the First Crusade. Chazan argues 4. There has been a tendency among medievalists, in their evaluations of intellectual developments during the twelfth century, to emphasize France over Germany. An excellent corrective perspective may be found in John van Engen, "Benedictine Monasticism in the Years 1050-1150," Speculum 61 (1986): 264-304.
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that limitations on Jewish status derived from economic difficulties rather than theological shifts. Although there is a danger in blurring the lines between economic and theological motivation with respect to medieval sources, Chazan's analysis of Otto of Freising's Chronicle and Bernard of Clairvaux's letters is most convincing. Chazan concludes that 1096 was not a turning point in the history of medieval Jewry. There was no demographic or economic shift. Communities in Germany returned to normal with imperial and ecclesiastical support. Intellectual growth continued in Germany even as it flourished in France.4 The First Crusade should not, therefore, be interpreted as an explanation for the later decline of European Jewries. European Jewry and the First Crusade is a challenging book. It should change the forms of discourse about the Hebrew Chronicles from argument about empirical verification to the forum of intellectual history. By emphasizing the contextuality of medieval documents about martyrdom, Chazan forces modern historians and theologians to reexamine their comfortable assumptions about continuity and discontinuity in Jewish history. MichaelA. Signer HebrewUnion College-Jewish Instituteof Religion Los Angeles, Calif.
Yael S. Feldman. Modernism and Cultural Transfer.:Gabriel Preil and the Tradition of Jewish Literary Bilingualism. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1986. xii, 224 pp. with bibliography and index. Yael Feldman's study is a significant addition to the emerging canon of critical works in English on Hebrew and Yiddish literature. Apart from a dozen or so prior titles, most of the major books have been published in Hebrew or Yiddish. In her monograph on Gabriel Preil, Feldman transfers her familiarity with Israeli scholarship to the American academic milieu and adds a broad awareness of literary interrelations. This book is evidence of continuing vitality in criticism on Jewish literature. Feldman advances the state of current research in two respects. She
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Ken Frieden Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 74-78 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486286 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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that limitations on Jewish status derived from economic difficulties rather than theological shifts. Although there is a danger in blurring the lines between economic and theological motivation with respect to medieval sources, Chazan's analysis of Otto of Freising's Chronicle and Bernard of Clairvaux's letters is most convincing. Chazan concludes that 1096 was not a turning point in the history of medieval Jewry. There was no demographic or economic shift. Communities in Germany returned to normal with imperial and ecclesiastical support. Intellectual growth continued in Germany even as it flourished in France.4 The First Crusade should not, therefore, be interpreted as an explanation for the later decline of European Jewries. European Jewry and the First Crusade is a challenging book. It should change the forms of discourse about the Hebrew Chronicles from argument about empirical verification to the forum of intellectual history. By emphasizing the contextuality of medieval documents about martyrdom, Chazan forces modern historians and theologians to reexamine their comfortable assumptions about continuity and discontinuity in Jewish history. MichaelA. Signer HebrewUnion College-Jewish Instituteof Religion Los Angeles, Calif.
Yael S. Feldman. Modernism and Cultural Transfer.:Gabriel Preil and the Tradition of Jewish Literary Bilingualism. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1986. xii, 224 pp. with bibliography and index. Yael Feldman's study is a significant addition to the emerging canon of critical works in English on Hebrew and Yiddish literature. Apart from a dozen or so prior titles, most of the major books have been published in Hebrew or Yiddish. In her monograph on Gabriel Preil, Feldman transfers her familiarity with Israeli scholarship to the American academic milieu and adds a broad awareness of literary interrelations. This book is evidence of continuing vitality in criticism on Jewish literature. Feldman advances the state of current research in two respects. She
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examines the literary-historical and psychological problems surrounding "cultural transfer" and bilingualism, specifically in connection with the exchanges between the mother tongue (mame-loshn) and the holy tongue (leshon ha-kadosh). Furthermore, she applies a sophisticated understanding of such issues to a number of poems by Gabriel Preil. These are substantial achievements, especially since few critics of Jewish literature possess a general theoretical perspective, have masteredthe secondary material in Hebrew and Yiddish, and can juxtapose theoretical considerations with close readings of specific texts. Gabriel Preil was born in Estonia in 1911 and moved to New York with his mother in 1922. His work is most familiar to American readers from the collection entitled Sunset Possibilities and Other Poems, translated by Robert Friend (Philadelphia: Jewish Publication Society, 1985). What is most obvious about Preil is also most astonishing: he lived virtually all but the first eleven years of his life in New York, yet he produced some of the finest examples of twentieth-century Hebrew poetry. After an introduction and two chapters that survey Hebrew literature from 1880 to 1940, Feldman turns to the bilingual condition of Hebrew and Yiddish writers and discusses the wrenching ambivalences in their work and in its subsequent reception. According to her thesis, Preil is emblematic of the tensions that have characterized modern Jewish literature to the extent that it has been suspended between Hebrew and Yiddish. As Feldman observes, the young Preil was influenced by the established Yiddish poet Jacob Glatstein and, together with the Introspectivists of New York, contributed Yiddish poems to the journal In Zikh during the 1930s. Feldman reviews the "deep-seated clash of loyalties" to Hebrew and Yiddish that marked Preil's creative development (p. 41). She also explains that the continuing biases against Yiddish have produced stubborn misconceptions of Preil's early verse. Moreover, Feldman provocatively suggests that the bilingual phenomenon may have been more crucial to Preil's poetic career than were specific intertextual influences. In general terms, this indicates that interlinguistic processes may at times overshadow the intertextual struggle between authors and their precursors. Chapters 4 and 5 are the most successful in Feldman's book, for they interpret Preil's poetry from a challenging new standpoint. When Preil responds to his grandfather's Talmudism, for example, "cultural transfer" rears its Janus-faced head. Preil does not engage in simple nostalgia, but
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rather seeks to invent a viable literary tradition when he likens his poetic activity to the rabbinic preoccupations of his ancestors. Sometimesit turnsspring,linesof verse hover in the air and my hand is drawnto catch them, as if they were flashesof a sugya in Grandpa'smind. (p. 45) Preil's strongest work may be traced to the strategies of defense involved in his efforts to produce an original Hebrew voice from conflicting Hebrew, Yiddish, and American English sources. In her compelling chapter entitled "The Return of the Repressed: Preil's Yiddish sources (In Zikh)," Feldman examines the links between the poet's early poems and Introspectivism. She refers to Harold Bloom's theories of misreading (p. 59) and explains that Preil lays the foundations of his work by incorporating some, and rejecting other, Introspectivist principles espoused by Glatstein, A. Leyeles, and their circle. According to Feldman, Y. L. Teller is the most directly linked figure among New York Yiddish circles. Hence she selects a late poem by Preil entitled "Yehuda Leib Teller" (1977) as the point of departure for a further probing of Preil's Yiddish connection. The analysis stops short at this stage, following an effective comparison between two Yiddish poems by Preil and Teller; Feldman does not discuss Preil's Yiddish work at length until a later chapter. She maintains that "unlike his close friend Teller, Preil could not adopt fully the 'poetics of hardness,' which the Inzikhistn inherited from the Imagists, because of his double literary loyalty" (p. 69). The terminoligy of hard versus soft and Imagism versus Romanticism is perhaps unsatisfying. While Preil's "Wonder Mirror" indeed uses more adjectives than Teller's "Wind," Feldman does not fully demonstrate that his Hebrew loyalties prevented him from emulating the Introspectivists. In the future, she might devote a valuable essay to specific instances of Yiddish-Hebrew transfer in Preil's work, including the associated dimension of metaphorical "carryover." The intervening chapters 6 and 7 are highly techincal, in contrast to those that precede and follow them, and do not advance the overall project. Even an avid formalist may question Feldman's decision to analyze a poem of catastrophe, "Words Are Gone," first and foremost at the level of
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meaningless syllables (pp. 99-105). While it is true that meaning has been shattered by the crises of the twentieth century, this does not necessarily justify subordinating thematic depth to rhythmic structure. Nevertheless, Feldman shows a laudable commitment to literary qualities. In chapter 9, Feldman effectively returns to the center of her study on Preil and cultural transfer by examining the problematics of translation. This issue is particularly relevant to Preil's poetry, since Preil translated his own poems as early as 1936. The interpretive readings in the final two chapters suffer, however, from a continued reliance on the periodizing labels of "hard" Yiddish Imagism and "soft" Hebrew Romanticism. In addition, because Feldman's monograph does not follow a linear chronology in its treatment of poems, it effaces some differences between the stages of Preil's literary career. Feldman ultimately claims that Preil's modernistic writing is "paradigmatic of the Jewish bilingual tradition" (p. 166), in which Yiddish has been repressed. While Feldman successfully elucidates several instances of transfer between Yiddish and Hebrew in his poetic development, her final thesis depends on unreliable labels: Preil's Yiddish Imagism destabilizes Hebrew Romanticism, thus allowing a new synthetic Modernism to emerge. This fractured conclusion perhaps reflects the continued ambivalences of our time, which have not overcome the "unfortunate dissociation between the conscious (Hebrew) and unconscious (Yiddish) layers of the writers' psychic activity" (p. 11). So long as Yiddish remains a supressed and marginal language, scorned by most Jews in Israel, America, and elsewhere, we may not be able to reach a balanced perception of cultural transfers from Hebrew to Yiddish and back to Hebrew. Alluding to Freud's remark about making the unconscious accessible to consciousness, we might paraphrase one prevalent attitude: Where Yiddish was, there Hebrew shall be. "Cultural transfer" has, in this case, enriched modern Hebrew literature and hastened the bankruptcy of Yiddish letters. Yael Feldman's Modernism and Cultural Transfer takes an important step in the right direction, analyzing Gabriel Preil's poetry against the background of interlinguistic relations. It reinterprets a small number of Preil's poems in connection with the rise of Hebrew letters and the decline of Yiddish. This distinguishes Feldman's book from most postwar American scholarship, which, like Preil in his renunciation of the mother tongue, has left Yiddish in the ashes. To preserve continuity with the past, our challenge is to remain multilingual, following the transmigrations of Hebrew reborn
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while retaining a European identity through "the languages of the nations" and by affirming the past and future of Yiddish. Ken Frieden Emory University Atlanta, Ga. Esther Fuchs, Omanut hahitamemut: 'al ha'ironyah shel Shai Agnon [Cunning innocence: On S. Y. Agnon's irony]. Makhon Katz: Tel Aviv University, 1985. 166 pp. Esther Fuchs has written an essentially sound book about Agnon's narrative poetics that is marred by a gratuitously polemical rhetoric. As our preeminent modernist, whose production began before World War I and continues posthumously today, Agnon's work has engendered a prodigious tradition of criticism. The layers of this tradition reflect the changes in the spiritual history of the Jewish people as well as the very recent development of modern literary criticism. There were times (in the 1920s) in which Agnon was read as the authentic voice of a lost naive piety; and there were times (in the 1950s) in which he was read as a fabulist who wrote in precisely encoded allegories. For Esther Fuchs, this tradition largely represents a history of error, the record of readers who were taken in by Agnon's cunning. As a corrective, she offers irony as a structural principle capable of adequately explaining the Agnon corpus and lending the proper scientific rigor to the critical enterprise. Fuchs's book has much light to shed on Agnon's art, but the derision with which she relates to the work of other critics is not especially gracious. Yes, there are critics like Meshullam Tochner who absurdly overallegorized Agnon, but then there are others such as Shaked and Band who preserved the balance between theme and structure. Similarly, nothing is easier than adducing the excesses of Kurzweil without acknowledging the new era in Agnon criticism that his work, following Sadan's, ushered in. In fact virtually no one is quoted to good effect in this book; even critics who would seem to be unassailable on these issues are invoked in such a way as to make them seem as if they belong to a prescientific age in Agnon criticism. This is one book in which you can be grateful for not being mentioned; but you will have to read the book through to find out, since there is no index, a fact which places limits on its general utility.
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Alan Mintz Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 78-80 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486287 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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while retaining a European identity through "the languages of the nations" and by affirming the past and future of Yiddish. Ken Frieden Emory University Atlanta, Ga. Esther Fuchs, Omanut hahitamemut: 'al ha'ironyah shel Shai Agnon [Cunning innocence: On S. Y. Agnon's irony]. Makhon Katz: Tel Aviv University, 1985. 166 pp. Esther Fuchs has written an essentially sound book about Agnon's narrative poetics that is marred by a gratuitously polemical rhetoric. As our preeminent modernist, whose production began before World War I and continues posthumously today, Agnon's work has engendered a prodigious tradition of criticism. The layers of this tradition reflect the changes in the spiritual history of the Jewish people as well as the very recent development of modern literary criticism. There were times (in the 1920s) in which Agnon was read as the authentic voice of a lost naive piety; and there were times (in the 1950s) in which he was read as a fabulist who wrote in precisely encoded allegories. For Esther Fuchs, this tradition largely represents a history of error, the record of readers who were taken in by Agnon's cunning. As a corrective, she offers irony as a structural principle capable of adequately explaining the Agnon corpus and lending the proper scientific rigor to the critical enterprise. Fuchs's book has much light to shed on Agnon's art, but the derision with which she relates to the work of other critics is not especially gracious. Yes, there are critics like Meshullam Tochner who absurdly overallegorized Agnon, but then there are others such as Shaked and Band who preserved the balance between theme and structure. Similarly, nothing is easier than adducing the excesses of Kurzweil without acknowledging the new era in Agnon criticism that his work, following Sadan's, ushered in. In fact virtually no one is quoted to good effect in this book; even critics who would seem to be unassailable on these issues are invoked in such a way as to make them seem as if they belong to a prescientific age in Agnon criticism. This is one book in which you can be grateful for not being mentioned; but you will have to read the book through to find out, since there is no index, a fact which places limits on its general utility.
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This being said, Omanut hahitamemut makes an original, if presumptuous, contribution to Agnon studies. Fuchs proposes to take irony as a critical rubric within which to organize many dimensions of the Agnon text. Basing herself on the work of Booth, Frye, and Uspensky (not, significantly, on Derrida), Fuchs conceives of irony as a system of gaps among the various levels and functions of the text: implied author, narrator, character, explicit statement, implied characterization, plot events. Acting in accordance with what she sees as the critic's job, Fuchs seeks to expose the tensions in the work rather than seek some elusive and questionable unity, for in her view it is from these tensions that meaning issues. The key terms Fuchs sees as basic to all forms of irony are "paralepsis" (too much information or detail) and "paralipsis" (too little of the same). In heaping praise upon a character, for example, the narrator typically supplies information that urges the reader to reevaluate the character along less positive lines. (One might legitimately wonder about the wisdom of using a pair of terms differentiated orthographically by so very little.) In describing these gaps, Fuchs uses individual texts as illustrations rather than occasions for interpretation. The text that accompanies her throughout her analysis is Hakhnasat qalah, which serves her purpose very well because it is a narrative that manages to be at once both naive and ironic. Fuchs offers a morphology of the Agnon text under four headings. The first is the irony of point-of-view, which primarily involves the gap between the implied author (Agnon) and his unreliable narrators. This gap is revealed, again, by either a conspicuous excess or an absence. The narrator may go on and on about matters that are essentially trivial or, conversely, he may show little awareness of the truly important issues in the narrative. The second form of irony relates to plot. Agnon's plots, according to Fuchs, tend to fall into three categories: the episodic, the circular, and the digressive. In each case the links among plot events are presented as motivated and logical, whereas in fact they are far from being so. On closer inspection what looks like development reveals absurd and arbitrary connections. A happy ending artificially imposed on one of these plots is yet another ironic device that calls attention to itself. Third is irony of character. A character is revealed in an ironic light if there is a discrepancy between the way he sees reality and the sense of reality, especially social reality, implicit in the referential arrangements of the text. The fourth variety of irony involves manipulations of the narrative medium itself. Agnon is notorious for playing with his readers and playing with the novel form and the short story form.
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Authorial intrusions, overelaborate chapter titles, and deadpan narration of grotesque events are some of the means whereby Agnon ironizes the literary form within which he works. There is much to admire in Fuchs's critical practice. The writing is lucid and to the point, and the examples are well chosen. Most important is the fact that in this book Fuchs is a close and attentive reader of specific texts who is sensitive to the manifold nuances of narrative strategies. Her critical intuition, however, is hampered by the rigidity and assertiveness of the larger framework she had adopted. The claims she makes for the sovereignty of irony as the key to Agnon are overly imperial: "This book, devoted entirely to irony in Agnon, does not view irony as one among a number of important foundations or techniques in Agnon's work but rather as the principle that organizes the corpus at all levels and serves as the dominant characteristic of all forms and genres" (p. 19). This grandiosity, of which one is in the end unpersuaded, is not harmful in itself. But it leads to a slighting of the interpretive and thematic axis of Agnon's work. Despite Fuchs's announced intention only to describe structures and functions and avoid making interpretations (p. 8), there are plenty of interpretations strewn throughout this volume. She states, for instance, that the major theme of Hakhnasat qalah is class injustice. Yet these interpretations are not presented and defended with the same scrutiny and attention to the views of others given to her main, formalist agenda. Making irony key does not do much to escape the notorious elusiveness that attaches to this category. Irony has been so universally held up as the mode of modernism and has been so widely identified as the genius of masterworks that its utility as a term is in question. Fuchs does a good job of delimiting and honing the term for application to Agnon, but the absence of a comparative dimension to her study leaves us in a quandary as to how Agnon's irony differs from the irony of such vastly different writers as, say, Henry James or William Faulkner. And, finally, because irony is everywhere, it is sometimes tedious to point it out. Fewer contemporary readers of Agnon have been gulled by his cunning than Fuchs imagines. Alan Mintz Universityof Maryland College Park, Maryland
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Elliot R. Wolfson Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 81-84 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486288 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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81
Moshe Idel. The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. 245 pp. Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. 178 pp. In the last year the writings of Moshe Idel, the eminent Israeli scholar of Jewish mysticism, have at least been made available, and on a grand scale, to readers of English. In the present review I shall discuss two of these volumes. The first, The Mystical Experience in AbrahamAbulafia, represents a partial translation of the author's doctoral dissertation, "Kitve R. 'Avraham 'Abul'afiyah u-Mishnato" (Hebrew University, 1976). Some of the remaining chapters from the dissertation have been published in the same series under the title Language, Torah, and Hermeneutics (1988). In both cases, however, Idel has slightly revised the material, especially updating the notes with referencesto studies that have been publishled since the writing of the dissertation. The author is to be commended for undertaking the difficult task, begun as a graduate student, of sifting through the corpus of Abulafian texts, mostly buried in the manuscript collections of various university libraries. The sheer work of reading through this material, let alone organizing it in a thematic way, was no easy matter, and Idel has proven to be a master at both. Through his published work, including this book and many other studies, Idel has made available to scholars in the field of Jewish mysticism as well as to nonspecialists a body of sources that would not have been available otherwise. He has also managed to discuss the material in several thematic categories that are of especial interest to the historian of the religious experience. Perhaps more than any other scholar of Jewish mysticism before him. Idel has paid a great deal of attention to the experiential dimension of kabbalistic texts. As the very title of the first book indicates, determining in a precise way the phenomenological parameters of the mystical experience in Abulafia's writings provides the link connecting the essays translated in this volume. Although Abulafia's works were not totally unknown to earlier scholars (e.g., in the nineteenth century Adolf Jellinek published some of the relevant texts), it was Gershom Scholem who first understood the seminal importance of this kabbalist in the larger history of Jewish mysticism. Thus Scholem dedicated a whole chapter of his Major Trendsin Jewish Mysticism (first published in 1954) to a description of Abulafia's system of thought and mystical techniques of letter-combination and recitation of divine names.
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Scholem noted that in the Spanish Kabbalah of the last quarter of the thirteenth century there were two opposing schools, which he termed the "ecstatic" and the "theosophical." While Moses de Leon, assumed by Scholem to be the author of the Zohar, is a representative example of the latter, Abulafia is representative of the former. Idel's own study of Abulafia's mysticism, which he likewise terms "ecstatic" Kabbalah (Abulafia himself refers to his mystical system as the "prophetic" Kabbalah, for it is meant to induce a state of mystical union understood by Abulafia to be a state of prophetic rapture), is part of his larger programmatic study of Jewish mystical texts in terms of two major trends in Kabbalah: the theosophical-theurgical and the ecstatic. This schematization is most fully elaborated in Idel's Kabbalah: New Perspectives(New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), but it is already operative in his early works. Broadly speaking, whereas the theosophicaltheurgical Kabbalah is most interested in a theosophical conception of God based on ten emanations (sefirot) and the possibility of human action (or misaction) to affect that structure, ecstatic Kabbalah is most interested in the experience of unio mystica, achieved primarily through various meditative techniques. Idel's phenomenology of the two trends in Kabbalah is clearly based on the research of Scholem as well as other scholars, including, most prominently, Ephraim Gottlieb, but it is to Idel's credit that he tries to contextualize these types within a larger framework of Jewish sources, seeing them not merely as schools that erupted in the thirteenth century in Spain but trends which have a long history in the Jewish literary tradition. The two basic forms of Jewish mysticism-mystical union and theurgy-can be traced to developments in early rabbinic Judaism, the former to the world of merkavah mysticism and the latter to the world of midrashic thinking. In The Mystical Experience in Abraham Abulafia Idel gives a highly detailed and well-documented account of the leading exponent of ecstatic Kabbalah. Idel focuses on the different techniques developed by Abulafia and some of his disciples to attain a state of ecstasy resulting in the experience of mystical union between self and God. The chief techniques, as I noted above, are letter-combination (in three stages: written, oral, and mental) and recitation of the divine names, which itself involves special breathing exercises as well as bodily motions (see The Mystical Experience, pp. 13-54). These techniques are intended to help the individual to free his true self, i.e., the intellectual or rational soul, from the bonds or knots of the body so that he may ultimately achieve a state of cleaving to God, devequt.
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This cleaving is understood by Abulafia in terms of strictly philosophical categories, i.e., as the union of the human intellect with the Active Intellect. Thus, in one place in his 'Or ha-Sekhel Abulafia puts the matter as follows: "The connection of human existence with the divine existence during intellection-which is identical with the intellect in [its] existence-until he and He become one [entity]" (I have utilized with slight modification the translation in Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah, p. 67; for a less desirable translation, see The Mystical Experience, p. 129). The union of the human intellect with the Active Intellect is so complete that the difference in identity between human and divine breaks down. Hence the individual in the ecstaticprophetic state can utter: "He is I and I am He" (ibid., p. 127). Although the basic outline of Abulafia's system has been known for some time from Scholem's account, Idel goes way beyond Scholem in describing the complex and intricate strands of ecstatic Kabbalah. Special mention should also be made of the fact that Idel attempts to locate the Abulafian technique of the recitation of divine names as an ecstatic-mystical exercise in the history of Jewish mysticism, beginning with merkavah texts of late antiquity and culminating in some of the esoteric writings of the German Pietists. Moreover, there are some striking parallels between Abulafia's system of lettercombination and Eleazar of Worms, whose works Abulafia admits having studied (see The Mystical Experience, pp. 14-24). In short, then, Idel's presentation of Abulafian Kabbalah is the most comprehensive one to date, in terms of both historical context and phenomenological description. The second volume, Studies in Ecstatic Kabbalah, is a collection of several of Idel's studies on the Abulafian trend in Kabbalah written in the decade or so after he completed his doctorate. The topics dealt with in this series of articles relate either directly to Abulafia or to the development of ecstatic Kabbalah until the middle of the sixteenth century. Here too one finds a significant advance beyond Scholem's discussion of Abulafia. Although Scholem already remarked that Abulafian Kabbalah led an underground life in the history of Jewish mysticism (see Major Trends, pp. 124-125), and he further mentioned that the sixteenty-century Safedian kabbalists, Moses Cordovero and Hayyim Vital, quote Abulafia as an authoritative source (ibid., p. 378, n. 14), Idel has set out to demonstrate in a more thorough way that Abulafian techniques to attain ecstatic union were indeed highly influential in the subsequent history of Kabbalah (see esp. Studies, pp. 103-169). In particular, Idel convincingly shows that in the last decade of the thirteenth century a circle of Abulafian Kabbalah was estab-
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lished in northern Palestine (see ibid., pp. 91-101). From this circle, which combined Abulafian mysticism with Sufic ideas, derived the Liqqute haRaN, i.e., the teachings of R. Nathan, and the anonymous Sha'are Zedeq (see ibid., pp. 73-89). It is likely, moreover, as Idel argues, that the kabbalists Isaac of Acre and Shem Tov ibn Gaon were influenced by this circle and thus assimilated ecstatic Kabbalah within their respective theosophic orientations. The geographical location of the Abulafian circle in Palestine continued to have an influence up until the sixteenth century, when it again appears explicitly in Safed in the writings of Solomon Alkabez, Moses Cordovero, Elijah de Vidas, and Hayyim Vital, and in Jerusalem in the writings of Judah Albotini and Joseph ibn Zaiah (see pp. 95-96). Most interestingly, Idel has pointed out that according to Cordovero, often considered to be the theosophist par excellence, there is a decided gradation of Kabbalah: (1) the lower level consists of the theosophic Kabbalah, i.e., speculation on the sefirot, derived mostly from the zoharic literature, and (2) the higher level comprises the ecstatic-prophetic Kabbalah of Abulafia (see pp. 126-131, 136-140). As Idel further suggests, the Cordoverian gradation had a decisive influence on subsequent Hasidic texts, a position developed at greater length in some other studies by Idel. Hence, Idel has succeeded in illustrating the distinct ways that Abulafian Kabbalah, though removed from its native Spanish soil, continued to play a central role in the shaping of Jewish mysticism. In sum, these two books of Idel's have contributed significantly to our understanding of one of the more difficult chapters in the history of Jewish mysticism. While Scholem is certainly to be given credit for recognizing the importance of Abraham Abulafia's particular brand of ecstatic Kabbalah distinct from that of mainstream theosophy, Idel has given us a fuller presentation of this system. In addition, Idel has suggested some earlier roots for ecstatic Kabbalah in merkavah mysticism and German Pietism. He has also carefully charted out the evolution of these ideas in subsequent stages, especially in mystical circles that were active in Palestine. The influence of Abulafia reached a climax in sixteenth-century Safed and from there, largely due to the writings of Cordovero and Vital, helped inform the mystical orientation of the Hasidim in the eighteenth century. ElliotR. Wolfson New York University New York, N.Y.
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Baruch M. Bokser Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 85-88 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486289 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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Michael K. Klein. Genizah Manuscripts of Palestinian Targumto the Pentateuch. Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1986 (published in 1987). 2 vols., li, 363 + 131 pp., 182 plates. Michael Klein's two beautifully produced volumes of genizah manuscripts provide us with some vitally important materials from ancient and early medieval Judaism-the corpus of diverse Palestinian targumic materials collectively called the Palestinian Targum to the Pentateuch. The first volume contains a 51-page introduction and a 363-page transcription and translation of 230 genizah fragments pieced together and forming 38 distinct manuscripts. The second volume contains 131 pages of rich notes to the text and translation, a 30-page glossary, and 182 excellently reproduced plates. Originating in the Mediterranean basin from the end of the Byzantine period through the fourteenth century and later, these manuscripts represent the earliest extensive evidence of ancient Aramaic translations and elaborations of the Bible (antedated only by the Qumran Job text and two tiny fragments of Targum to Leviticus and Job and two verses on a Nippur magic bowl). Their importance lies in the sheer size of the corpus. Until the twentieth century, the Palestinian Targum was known only in an altered form from its use as a source of supplements to Targum Onqelos (published in rabbinic Bibles since 1517-18, originally directly from one of the primary sources of the four recensions of the Fragment-Targums, and only published separately in 1889 by Moses Ginzburger from one of the other recensions, along with several examples of a different genre of supplements, the targumic "toseftot"). In consequence, the Palestinian targumic tradition was overshadowed by Onqelos (a Targum composed in second-century Palestine but probably later reedited and vocalized in Babylonia) and Pseudo-Jonathan (a seventh- or eighth-century expansion of an earlier Palestinian Targum). This material, however, came to scholarly attention through the publication of a limited number of fragments, especially by Kahle in 1930, and then the identification, in 1956, and subsequent publication, in 1968-79, of the Codex Neofiti I Targum to the complete Pentateuch (a medieval manuscript from the Vatican Library whose underlying text probably derives from the second or, more likely, third [or even fourth] century, but whose date is still debated). But the number of fragments has increased fourfold since the 1950s. Klein himself published in 1980 a collection of the Fragment-Targums, consisting of fragmentary texts consciously redacted together and preserved in four distinct families (The Fragment Tar-
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gums of the Pentateuch According to Their Extant Sources, 2 vols. [Rome: Biblical Institute, 1980]), and now he presents us with his findings, based on eight years search through the genizah libraries, of manuscripts of the diverse genres of the Palestinian Targum. In addition to its size, the corpus is significant in at least three ways. First, linguistically, it comprises reliable texts for Galilean Aramaic which are free from corruption by other dialects of Aramaic and which are made readily accessible through Klein's very useful glossary. Second, it makes up a resource for a very early Palestinian system of vocalization and marginal and interlinear lectionary notations for cycles of triennial Torah portions. Third, it preserves early midrashic traditions and what Klein calls "nonnormative," non-Aqiban halakhah. Klein recognizes that the latter characterization is problematic, but actually it should not be used at all, since, as he acknowledges, legal interpretations that may not accord with the Mishnah may accord with the Tosefta, the two Talmudim, or early midrashim. One would have hoped that this issue had been put to rest not only by Jacob Neusner's research but also, for example, by Saul Lieberman's study of Midrash Sifrei Zuta (Siphre Zutta [The Midrash of Lydda] [New York, 1968), which demonstrates that the circles responsible for this midrash followed alternative constructions of mishnaic teachings (a "different Mishnah"), or by David Weiss Halivni's tradition- and redaction-criticism of the Babylonian Talmud, which shows how diverse legal options were followed by the early amoraim, even regarding how to translate Scripture (see, in particular, Sources and Traditions. Seder Moed from Yoma to Hagiga [Jerusalem, 1975], pp. 504-6).' Although the legal materials may not be significant in number, there are innumerable midrashic and aggadic traditions. We notably find not only the expected elaborations (e.g., of the Aqedah) but much new and less common material (e.g., on Exodus 12 and the exodus). Take, for example, the poem on lel shemurim, a "night of vigil" (Exod. 12:42). Introducing a messianic twist by stating that there are four nights divinely watched or anticipated, it claims that three were in the past, the third of them having taken place in Egypt the night before the exodus, and that one is reserved for the future, the night of Passover before the LORD, when God will again redeem Israel 1. On this point and related matters on the nature of the Targumim, see Baruch M. Bokser, "Recent Developments in the Study of Judaism, 70-200 C.E.," Second Century 3 (1983): 20-25.
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"at the end of the world." The poems introducing the chapter are even more remarkable, dramatically portraying the Hebrew months as vying with each other for the prerogative of being the one in which the exodus will take place. The volumes contain texts falling into five categories, indicating different ways in which people used and responded to Scripture. There are: 1. Targum texts proper, in scriptural order with Hebrew text, verse by verse, or with leading Hebrew lemmata, alternating between a close translation of the original and more expansive sections (e.g., on the Cain and Abel debate). Although they currently are fragmentary in nature, Klein believes they originally encompassed all of the Pentateuch. Scholars still differ over the relation of this category's material to tosefta Targum texts, that is, the targumic texts containing only the expansive material (category 4). 2. Festival liturgical booklets covering the synagogue Torah readings for festivals and special Sabbaths. These demonstrate what Torah portions were read. Their length, which indicates that Torah readings then were no longer than those in current (twentieth-century) practice, attests that the special readings were not supplement to the ongoing portions but the full reading and thus exemplifies the early Palestinian custom already mentioned in Mishnah and Tosefta Megillah. It remains, however, unclear how to explain apparently missing sections for certain holidays, such as Sukkot, and variations in the order of some manuscripts. 3. Fragment-Targums-collections of selected phrases, verses, and passages put together by design by copyists/redactors. 4. Targumic toseftot-extensive expansive passages of aggadic material, some preserved as insertions into Targum Onqelos manuscripts and others as separately collected supplements to Onqelos. These do not preserve the pure dialect of Palestinian Targumim but only vestiges thereof, for they have been transformed to the language of Onqelos. 5. Introductory poems, beautiful and at times lengthy selections; especially notable in this regard are the thirteen aforementioned poems on Exodus 12 introducing Passover's special reading. These poems will also be published as part of a separate corpus by Michael Sokoloff and Joseph Yahalom. Klein's introduction briefly but informatively reviews the Targumim's
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translation techniques, in particular in the paraphrastic interpretive translations and less so for the word-for-word equivalence portions. Among his twelve different categories, Klein includes: adding of proper names and pronouns; associative and complementary translations (reading one passage in light of another one); euphemism; avoidance of anthropomorphism; hortatory phrases; and what is characterized as "halakhic deviations" from "normative" halakhah (a characterization, as we noted, that needs revision). Klein furthermore reviews orthographic and phonological characteristics that are important for the study of Galilean Aramaic and the dating of the Targum manuscripts. Except regarding the poems, for which Klein refers the readers to the forthcoming separate corpus, the notes are copious and quite sensitive to translation and grammatical usage and peculiarities as well as to divergences from the Hebrew original. These two volumes thus demonstrate the ways in which Scripture was mediated and adapted in antiquity and early medieval times. As biblical consecutive "Torah" portions read weekly and lengthy selected readings for special occasions both elicited Aramaic close renderings and expansive constructions that circulated with and without scriptural texts-i.e., as a companion to Scripture and as independent works for independent reading-the corpus attests not only to the Pentateuch's expected place in the liturgy but also to its role as the subject of reflection and aesthetic appreciation. The latter is especially evident from the individual poems, designed either for private reading or as liturgical supplements, that introduce the Torah reading and highlight the message of the day or other specific themes of interest. We are indebted to Klein for this rich source, and it will now be up to other scholars to mine it for information on ancient Judaism and its synagogue life. BaruchM. Bokser JewishTheologicalSeminaryof America New York, N.Y.
Robert Liberles. Religious Conflict in Social Context: The Resurgence of Orthodox Judaism in Frankfurtam Main, 1838-1877. Contributions to the Study of Religion. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1985. xvi, 295 pp. Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) is commonly regarded as the father of modern Jewish Orthodoxy. He is often credited with having spear-
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Hillel J. Kieval Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 88-91 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486290 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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translation techniques, in particular in the paraphrastic interpretive translations and less so for the word-for-word equivalence portions. Among his twelve different categories, Klein includes: adding of proper names and pronouns; associative and complementary translations (reading one passage in light of another one); euphemism; avoidance of anthropomorphism; hortatory phrases; and what is characterized as "halakhic deviations" from "normative" halakhah (a characterization, as we noted, that needs revision). Klein furthermore reviews orthographic and phonological characteristics that are important for the study of Galilean Aramaic and the dating of the Targum manuscripts. Except regarding the poems, for which Klein refers the readers to the forthcoming separate corpus, the notes are copious and quite sensitive to translation and grammatical usage and peculiarities as well as to divergences from the Hebrew original. These two volumes thus demonstrate the ways in which Scripture was mediated and adapted in antiquity and early medieval times. As biblical consecutive "Torah" portions read weekly and lengthy selected readings for special occasions both elicited Aramaic close renderings and expansive constructions that circulated with and without scriptural texts-i.e., as a companion to Scripture and as independent works for independent reading-the corpus attests not only to the Pentateuch's expected place in the liturgy but also to its role as the subject of reflection and aesthetic appreciation. The latter is especially evident from the individual poems, designed either for private reading or as liturgical supplements, that introduce the Torah reading and highlight the message of the day or other specific themes of interest. We are indebted to Klein for this rich source, and it will now be up to other scholars to mine it for information on ancient Judaism and its synagogue life. BaruchM. Bokser JewishTheologicalSeminaryof America New York, N.Y.
Robert Liberles. Religious Conflict in Social Context: The Resurgence of Orthodox Judaism in Frankfurtam Main, 1838-1877. Contributions to the Study of Religion. Westport, Conn.: Greenwood Press, 1985. xvi, 295 pp. Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) is commonly regarded as the father of modern Jewish Orthodoxy. He is often credited with having spear-
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headed not only the resurgence of religious traditionalism in Frankfurt am Main but also the movement of the traditionalists to secede from the formal Jewish community in 1877. In this important study of the conflict between Reform and Orthodoxy in the city of Goethe (as well as of Abraham Geiger and Hirsch), Robert Liberles challenges these basic assumptions. He does so through a careful reconstruction of the struggle within Frankfurt Jewry during the middle decades of the nineteenth century, which linked issues of religious expression and political power. His analysis-the goal of which ostensibly is to provide social perspective to what has traditionally been seen as a religious debate-in fact combines elements of intellectual, social, and political history. The book is dotted with important insights on such themes as the relationship between religious party and social class, the role of Reform in the promotion of secessionism, and the communal implications of political emancipation. If it falls short of providing that "social history" which the author feels has been lacking in the past, it can certainly be forgiven. Early on in his study Liberles lays to rest the notion that it was Hirsch's appearance in Frankfurt in 1851 that laid the groundwork for the resurgence of Orthodoxy in that city. He demonstrates convincingly that, while the party of Reform ascended in power and influence in the 1830s and 1840s, the self-conscious traditionalists were scarcely dead. Nor were they really in retreat. In fact, the strength of the Orthodox party in Frankfurt owed much to social and economic factors. Liberles astutely points out that the Orthodox Israelitische Religionsgesellschaft (IRG) comprised the wealthier and more aristocratic element within the community, contrary to what one might have expected. Later this foundation of high economic and social standing would combine with the intellectual and organizational skills of Samson Raphael Hirsch to place the IRG as the model community of German Neo-Orthodoxy. Liberles does not ask, however, whether the banking and "aristocratic" background of the IRG members was unique in Germany or common to the phenomenon of Neo-Orthodoxy. Nor does he investigate the possibility that, while wealthier and socially more prestigious than the Reformers, the members of the IRG were in fact less well integrated socially. Closer to home lies the question why. Why did the financial elite in Frankfurt choose to identify with religious traditionalism rather than with Reform? Are religious preferences tied in a meaningful way to occupational structure, with middle-class professionals and businessmen inclined toward Reform and
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those in "traditional" occupations tending also toward traditionalism in religious expression? These issues are not raised, yet, it seems to me, they lie at the heart of the "social context" that Liberles seeks to uncover. Liberles's chapter on the personality and early career of Hirsch is particularly suggestive, though brief. The argument that Hirsch saw himself to be the prophet Elijah (alternatively Phinehas, Aaron's grandson), and that the title of his major theoretical work, Horeb, referred not to the Sinai of God's revelation to Moses but to the site of Elijah's battle with Baal, is important to any satisfactory understanding of Hirsch's actions with regard to the Reform movement. Unfortunately barely ten pages are devoted to this theme. Nor does Liberles return to the argument when discussing Hirsch's tactics during the controversy over secession. The bulk of Liberles's study deals with the background to-and politics of-the Orthodox secession from the formal Jewish community in Frankfurt. In the course of setting the record straight, he demonstrates that it was the Reform camp, in fact, which first advocated "separatism" as a political strategy. Geiger himself wavered on the issue during the 1830s and 1840s before eventually rejecting the concept of separation from the official Jewish community. Within the Orthodox establishment, calls for separation increased as the relative strengths of the two movements reversed and the traditionalists were relegated to a minority position. The Orthodox of Frankfurt requested severance from the official community repeatedly during the 1850s and 1860s. Liberles suggests that the logic of the emancipation process itself raised both the practicality and the attractiveness of secession, if not in fact the dissolution of the Jewish community. In a political context in which religious affiliations were deemed to be voluntary and in which-theoretically, at least-Jews could claim equal services from the state, what interest could there be in making membership in the Jewish community obligatory? On this point Liberles seems to offer a number of answers. The principal interest of the Frankfurt Senate in insisting on compulsory membership in the Jewish community was economic: it did not wish to bear the cost of providing social services to this newly enfranchised group. The Prussian state, on the other hand, hesitated to grant to its Jewish subjects a right which was denied to Christians, namely, to escape the burden of religious taxation, not by leaving the religion in question, but simply by changing parishes. Whatever its understanding of the issue, the Prussian government paved the way for the secession of Hirsch and his followers, first by annexing the
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city of Frankfurt in 1866 and then by enacting enabling legislation ten years later. Liberles concludes that, for their part, the Orthodox of Frankfurt, unable to reach a satisfactory compromise with the Reform-dominated board, "had no alternative but to follow the path of autonomy, for which they indeed did possess the financial means" (p. 176). Liberles's careful reconstruction of the social and political context surrounding the secession controversy has the effect of reducing the significance of the IRG's defection in 1877. Similarly Hirsch's own personality and ideological agenda loom less large as contributing factors. Yet we learn from Liberles that neither the Orthodox leadership nor the lay population were agreed on the issue; that Rabbi Moses Mainz went so far as to challenge the halakhic competence of Hirsch precisely over the question of secession; that no less an authority than Seligmann Baer Bamberger, perhaps the leading Orthodox rabbi in Germany at the time, threw his weight behind those who opposed Hirsch's decision; and that more than half of the IRG members in 1877 retained full membership in the official Frankfurt community. Suddenly the force of Hirsch's own, idiosyncratic personality once again occupies center stage, or so-it seems to me-it ought. Hirsch's brand of Orthodoxy appears to have embodied an historical irony. While it rejected the "separatism" of the "old Orthodox," insisting instead on the involvement of Jews in the modern state and in Western society and culture, it also abandoned the traditional conception of community, in which ties to other Jews were felt to be inalienable no matter how questionable their behavior. The Neo-Orthodoxy of Hirsch transferred the policy of separatism from the external realm to the Jewish world, erecting barriers between "loyalists" and nonloyalists while pursuing a course of integration with the larger environment. This point is never fully developed by Liberles. Religious Conflict in Social Context nevertheless remains an important study of the religious dimensions of emancipation. HillelJ. Kieval Universityof Washington Seattle,Wash. Michael A. Meyer. Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. xiii, 494 pp. This long-awaited tome is, quite simply, a beautifully wrought history of
Review: [untitled] Author(s): Michael Stanislawski Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 91-94 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486291 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
91
BOOK REVIEWS
city of Frankfurt in 1866 and then by enacting enabling legislation ten years later. Liberles concludes that, for their part, the Orthodox of Frankfurt, unable to reach a satisfactory compromise with the Reform-dominated board, "had no alternative but to follow the path of autonomy, for which they indeed did possess the financial means" (p. 176). Liberles's careful reconstruction of the social and political context surrounding the secession controversy has the effect of reducing the significance of the IRG's defection in 1877. Similarly Hirsch's own personality and ideological agenda loom less large as contributing factors. Yet we learn from Liberles that neither the Orthodox leadership nor the lay population were agreed on the issue; that Rabbi Moses Mainz went so far as to challenge the halakhic competence of Hirsch precisely over the question of secession; that no less an authority than Seligmann Baer Bamberger, perhaps the leading Orthodox rabbi in Germany at the time, threw his weight behind those who opposed Hirsch's decision; and that more than half of the IRG members in 1877 retained full membership in the official Frankfurt community. Suddenly the force of Hirsch's own, idiosyncratic personality once again occupies center stage, or so-it seems to me-it ought. Hirsch's brand of Orthodoxy appears to have embodied an historical irony. While it rejected the "separatism" of the "old Orthodox," insisting instead on the involvement of Jews in the modern state and in Western society and culture, it also abandoned the traditional conception of community, in which ties to other Jews were felt to be inalienable no matter how questionable their behavior. The Neo-Orthodoxy of Hirsch transferred the policy of separatism from the external realm to the Jewish world, erecting barriers between "loyalists" and nonloyalists while pursuing a course of integration with the larger environment. This point is never fully developed by Liberles. Religious Conflict in Social Context nevertheless remains an important study of the religious dimensions of emancipation. HillelJ. Kieval Universityof Washington Seattle,Wash. Michael A. Meyer. Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. xiii, 494 pp. This long-awaited tome is, quite simply, a beautifully wrought history of
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the Reform movement by the acknowledged master of the subject. Michael Meyer's peerless command of the vast array of sources on Reform Judaism is well known to all students of modern Jewish history, as is his ability to wrench fresh and sometimes arresting insights out of both familiar and unfamiliar material. Readers of his large number of articles on the origins and fate of the Reform movement will not be surprised, therefore, to find repeated in this volume themes and conclusions that inform Meyer's previous work, here extended, both chronologically and geographically, and amplified by impressive documentation and sustained argumentation. After a cogent preface, entitled "Considerations of Historiography," there follows an excellent prologue that exemplifies Meyer's sophisticated approach to his subject and its place in Jewish history: an examination of the precedents of the Reform movement from ancient times to the early eighteenth century-precedents, not precursors, for Meyer wisely and correctly stresses that the "Reform movement was not an internal Jewish development" but yet that it did incorporate principles and practices from earlier phases of Jewish history that enabled it to view itself as a natural outgrowth of the Jewish past. The chapters then follow the history of the movement in roughly chronological order: from its origins in early and mid-eighteenthcentury Germany to the crystallization of early Reform, Wissenschaft des Judentums, Neo-Orthodoxy, and Positive-Historical Judaism in the early nineteenth century; the growth of the Reform movement in the midnineteenth century and the controversies it engendered; its diffusion throughout Europe and consolidation at home and abroad; the birth of American Reform, the development on these shores of "Classical Reform," and its reorientation in the face of domestic social realities and the challenge of Zionism; and finally, the growth of Reform Judaism as an international movement, followed by an evaluation of "the new American Reform Judaism" and a short epilogue. All of these subjects are analyzed and expounded with clarity and grace, firmly mooring the history of Reform Judaism in both its Jewish and nonJewish historical contexts. Meyer is clearly most at home in and most engaged by the earliest phases of the Reform movement, and particularly its development in Germany and spread throughout Europe; indeed, the discussion of the diffusion of Reform to the Austro-Hungarian Empire and the rest of Central and Western Europe is perhaps the most innovative and impressive section of the book. When the discussion shifts to the latter half of the nineteenth century and to America, there is a somewhat inchoate but
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nonetheless perceptible loss of intensity in the prose and the argument. This is somewhat ironic, since this study is, from the first page to the last, quite overtly a history of the Reform movement written not only from the inside, but from a particular point in the history of that "inside": latetwentiety-century American Reform Judaism, dedicated at once to preserving the basic heritage of the movement while recasting it in a more traditionalist and nationalist mode. It is not simply that the author's sympathies are with the moderates in the movement; rather, in a far more sophisticated manner, Meyer attempts-and most often succeeds-in muting the importance of the radical pronouncements and actions of reformers that have been emphasized by previous historians of the movement, both sympathetic and antagonistic. Thus, quite characteristically, his account of the High Holiday services of the Berlin Association for Reform in Judaism in 1845 notes the elimination of the shofar on Rosh Hashanah and the requirement of fasting on Yom Kippur as well as other dramatic innovations, but concludes: Yet for all theirradicality,the servicesretainedsome theologicallytraditional elements:divinejudgmentat the High Holidayseason,the electionof Israel, the Sinaiticrevelation,rewardand punishment,even resurrection.Therewere historicreferencesto the peopleof Israel,arousingthe objectionsof some. In retrospect,[Ludwig]Philippsonpronouncedthe worship"Jewishthroughand through." Similarly, a far more significant event, the Frankfurt Conference in the same year, is given an interesting gloss: the two most famous episodes of the conference-Zacharias Frankel's walk-out and the abandonment of the belief in the return to Zion-are chronicled in full, but the discussion then turns to a series of practical decisions made by the conference, ending with a vote to permit mayim she'uvimto be used in a mikveh. This response, Meyer notes, "while going more directly against talmudic law than any other decision, at the same time affirmed [the Reformers'] support for the use of a mikveh." "Clearly," he concludes, "even after Frankel's departure, the conference had not abandoned all attachment to Jewish particularity." This insistent emphasis on moderation and search for continuities is not only a refreshing corrective to previous treatments of such matters; it is undoubtedly more sensitive to the feelings and attitudes of the participants and their times than the highly charged treatments of the subject by either
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David Philipson or Simon Bernfeld. Similarly, his reconstruction of the confrontation between the Reformers and Zionism is remarkably astute, avoiding the tendency among Israeli historians in particular to dislodge events from their historical context in regard to this highly sensitive issue. Only in his repetition here of the stance he enunciated in his 1981 Leo Baeck Memorial Lecture, GermanPolitical Pressure and Jewish Religious Response in the Nineteenth Century, that "on the whole, over the course of a long and wearisome struggle for complete emancipation in Germany, Jews refused to allow political considerations, however important to them, to dominate their religious thinking," is Meyer's revisionist bent less than convincing, and susceptible to the charge of anachronistic projection. As with any superb study, even of this length, there are, of course, lapses and matters about which to quibble. The division of material between the first two chapters is not as clear as it ought to be; thus, for example, Spinoza is not dealt with until the second chapter, a decision that is confusing and potentially misleading. The discussion of increased attention to the subjective religious state of the individual in the eighteenth century should have made at least passing reference to kabbalistic beliefs on the observance of commandments held by German as well as other Jews both before and after this time. Perhaps most important to this reader is the relatively unsuccessful treatment of the question of Reform tendencies in Galicia, Poland, and Russia, a subject largely inaccessible to the author on linguistic grounds; on a related matter with even broader interest, Meyer fails adequately to analyze what might be termed the East Europeanization of the Reform movement in America in the twentieth century: he documents the demographic changes in the student body of Hebrew Union College and in the membership of Reform temples, but fails to link these phenomena clearly to ideological shifts. But these minor problems do not in the least detract from the grand accomplishment of this volume. Michael Meyer has produced a first-rate, sympathetic but critical, voluminous but gripping, history of Reform Judaism that-despite its author's demurral-must and will be regarded as the definitive work on the subject in this generation. Our collective expectations have been more than fulfilled. MichaelStanislawski ColumbiaUniversity New York, N.Y.
Collected Studies Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 95-98 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486292 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
COLLECTEDSTUDIES Stanley Nash, ed. Migvan: Studies in Hebrew Literature In Honor of Jacob Kabakoff Lod: Habermann Institute for Literary Research, 1988. 519 pp. CONTENTS:Ruth Adler, "The Image of the Woman as Treated Symbolically by Agnon." Meir Ben-Horin, "Jabotinsky-Exemplar of Chivalry." Yitzhak Ben-Mordechai, "The Distilled Realism of Reuben Wallenrod." Warren Bargad, "Three Zionist Monologues: Agnon, Hazaz, Oz." Isaac Barzilay, "The Motif of Departure and Return in Modern Hebrew Literature." Nurit Govrin, "The Demand for 'Americanism' and Its Realization in American Hebrew Literature." Emanuel Goldsmith, "Aaron Zeitlin's Poetry on the Hurban." Menuha Gilboa, "America as Place, Metaphor and Symbol in Three Israeli Novels." Avner Holtzman, "On Gabriel Preil's Poetry and the Plastic Arts." Shlomo Haramati, "A.H. Friedland's Children's Stories: From the Didactic to the Artistic." Aryeh Wineman, "Rabbi Nahman of Bratzlav: The Stories and Dreams." Nahum M. Waldman, "Evil in Modern Poetic Works on Biblical Themes." Shmuel Werses, "The Poet M.M. Dolitzky and His Novel Mi-Bayyit U'Mi-Hutz." Nahum Tarnor, "Between a Nation and the Sea." Moshe Carmilly-Weinberger, "Hungarian Hebrew Writers in America." Hayim Leaf, "Exile and Redemption in P. Churgin's Publicistic Writings." Zvi Malachi, "Nineteenth Century American Jews in Hebrew Parody." Abraham A. Marathan, "Tchernichowsky's Recourse to Myth." Stanley Nash, "Reuben Brainin's Hebrew and Yiddish Creativity." Moshe Pelli, "The Travel Literature Genre: Shmuel Romanelli's Massa Ba-Arav." Yehuda Friedlander, "Between Polemic and Satire: Israel of Zamosc's Nezed Ha-Dema." Rena Lee Kofman, "Agnon's Vegetarianism as a Theme in His Stories." Noah Rosenbloom, "Critical Evaluations in Mendelsohn of Hamburg's Penei Tevel." Gila Ramraz-Rauch, "Le-Or Ha-Venus, by L.A. Arieli." Yehuda Ratzaby, "New Poems by Shalem Shabazi: Third Bibliography." Zohar Shavit, "The Failed Attempt to Create a Hebrew Literary Center in America." Efraim Shmueli, "Literature in a Twilight Age." Michael Saraf, "Jewish 95
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Literary Works on the Liberation of North Africa by the Allies." "Jacob Kabakoff on Hebrew Culture in the U.S.A.": An Interview by Prof. Stanley Nash.
Walter P. Zenner, ed. Persistence and Flexibility: Anthropological Perspectives on the AmericanJewish Experience. SUNY Series in Anthropology and Judaic Studies. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. 304 pp. CONTENTS:Walter P. Zenner and Janet S. Belcove-Shalin, "The Cultural
Anthropology of American Jewry." Jack Glazier, "Stigma, Identity and Sephardic-Ashkenazic Relations in Indianapolis." Dina DahbanyMiraglia, "American Yemenite Jewish Interethnic Strategies." Fran Markowitz, "Jewish in the USSR, Russian in the USA." David Schoem, "Learning to Be a Part-Time Jew." Stuart Schoenfeld, "Integration into the Group and Sacred Uniqueness: Analysis of an Adult Bat Mitzvah." Hannah Kliger, "A Home Away from Home: Participation in Jewish Immigrant Associations in America." Myrna Silverman, "Family, Kinship, and Ethnicity: Strategies for Social Mobility." Janet S. Belcove-Shalin, "The Hasidim of North America: A Review of the Literature."Steven Lowenstein, "Separatist Orthodoxy's Attitudes Toward Community: The Breuer Community in Germany and America." David Mayer Gradwohl and Hanna Rosenberg Gradwohl, "That Is the Pillar of Rachel's Grave Unto This Day: An Ethnoarchaeological Comparison of Two Jewish Cemeteries in Lincoln, Nebraska." Samuel Heilman, "Jews and Judaica: Who Owns and Buys What?"
Ruth Link-Salinger, ed. in chief, with Jeremiah Hackett, Michael Samuel Hyman, R. James Long, and Charles H. Manekin, eds. A Straight Path: Studies in Medieval Philosophy and Culture; Essays in Honor of Arthur Hyman. Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1988, 304 pp. CONTENTS:Haggai Ben-Shammai, "Saadya's Goal in his Commentary on
Sefer Yegira." Lawrence V. Berman, "The Ideal State of the Philosophers and Prophetic Laws." Stephen F. Brown, "Richard Fishacre on the Need for 'Philosophy.'" David B. Burrell, "Aquinas's Debt to Maimonides."
COLLECTED STUDIES
97
MaryT. Clark,"WillingFreelyAccordingto ThomasAquinas."HerbertA. Davidson, "Averrois Tractatusde Animae Beatitudine." Seymour Feldman,
"Philoponuson the Metaphysicsof Creation."L.E. Goodman,"Matterand Formas Attributesof God in Maimonides'Philosophy."JeremiahHackett, "Averroesand Roger Baconon the Harmonyof Religionand Philosophy." WarrenZev Harvey,"CrescasversusMaimonideson Knowledgeand Pleasure." Moshe Idel, "Some Conceptionsof the Land of Israel in Medieval Jewish Thought." Alfred L. Ivry, "Averroes and the West: The First Encounter/Nonencounter."BarryS. Kogan, "The Problemof Creationin Late MedievalJewish Philosophy."R. James Long, "RichardFishacre's Way to God." CharlesH. Manekin,"Problemsof 'Plentitude'in Maimonides and Gersonides."MichaelE. Marmura,"Ghazaliand the Avicennan Proof from PersonalIdentityfor an ImmaterialSelf."ArmandA. Maurer, "Maimonidesand Aquinason the Studyof Metaphysics."RichardH. Popkin, "Newtonand Maimonides."G. Verbeke,"TheBible'sFirstSentencein Gregory of Nyssa's View." William A. Wallace, "Thomas Aquinas on Dialectics and Rhetoric."Raymond L. Weiss, "On the Scope of Maimonides' Logic; or, What Joseph Knew."Sara Heller Wilensky,"The Guide and the Gate:The DialecticalInfluenceof Maimonideson Isaac ibn Latif and EarlySpanishKabbalah."John F. Wippel,"ThomasAquinasand the Axiom 'What Is Received Is Received According to the Mode of the Receiver.'"
William Frankel, ed. Survey of Jewish Affairs, 1987. Sponsored by World
JewishCongress;publishedfor Instituteof JewishAffairs.Rutherford,N.J.: FairleighDickinson UniversityPress, 1988. 304 pp. CONTENTS:Daniel J. Elazar and Shmuel Sandler, "The National Unity
GovernmentunderShimonPeres."ErnestKrauszand David Glanz, "ContemporaryJudaismand Social Changein Israel."BarnetLitvinoff,"David Ben-Gurion: A Centennial Assessment." Dankwart A. Rustow, "The 'PeaceProcess'in 1986:A New Chapter?"Jon Kimche,"FortyYearsArab League:The Reckoning."Peter M. Oppenheimer,"Arab Oil Power:PermanentEclipseor TemporaryFading?"EhudYaari,"Egypt:A Catalystfor the Peace Process?"Alan M. Fisher,"Jewsand AmericanPoliticsin 1986: Issues, Votes, PACs, and Power." Steven L. Spiegel, "The Year of the Bizarrein AmericanMiddleEast Policy."ChaimI. Waxman,"The Limits
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of Futurology: Conflicting Perspectives on American Jewry." Wolfe Kelman, "Moshe Feinstein and Postwar American Orthodoxy." Edgar M. Bronfman, "Waldheim and the Memory of the Holocaust." Antony Lerman, "Le Pen and LaRouche: Political Extremism in Democratic Societies." Louis Jacobs, "World Jewish Fundamentalism." Jeffrey Greenwood, "Planning Welfare in a Diaspora Community: A Case Study of the United Kingdom."
Books Received Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 99-101 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486293 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
BOOKSRECEIVED Ashkenazi, Elliott. The Business of Jews in Louisiana, 1840-1875. Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1988. x, 219 pp. Bickerman, Elias J. The Jews in the Greek Age. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1988. x, 338 pp. Blumenthal, David R. God at the Center: Meditations on Jewish Spirituality. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. xxxii, 246 pp. Brickner, Richard P. After She Left. New York: Henry Holt, 1988. 290 pp. Burt, Robert A. TwoJewish Justices: Outcasts in the Promised Land. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. 165 pp. Castelli, Jim. A Plea for Common Sense: Resolving the Clash Between Religion and Politics. Foreword by Norman Lear. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. xiii, 202 pp. Cohen, Naomi W. The Year After the Riots: American Responses to the Palestine Crisis of 1929-30. Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1988. 210 pp. Cohen, Shaye J. D. From the Maccabees to the Mishna. Library of Early Christianity, no. 7. Philadelphia: Westminster Press, 1987. 251 pp. Cohen, Steven M. American Assimilation or Jewish Revival? Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1988. xii, 140 pp. Dorff, Elliot N., and Arthur Rosett. A Living Tree: The Roots and Growthof Jewish Law. Jewish Theological Seminary Centennial Publications. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. xv, 602 pp. Dulin, Rachel Z. A Crown of Glory: A Biblical View ofAging. New York: Paulist Press, 1988. viii, 145 pp. Fishbane, Michael A. Judaism. Religious Traditions of the World. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. Golden, Richard M., ed. Social History of Western Civilization. Vol. 2: Readings from the Seventeenth Century to the Present. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1988. 326 pp. 99
100
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Gurock, Jeffrey S. The Men and Women of Yeshiva: Higher Education, Orthodoxy, and American Judaism. New York: Columbia University Press, 1988. viii, 302 pp. Hadda, Janet. Passionate Women, Passive Men: Suicide in Yiddish Literature. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. xi, 223 pp. Hauptman, Judith. Development of the Talmudic Sugya: Relationship between Tannaitic and Amoraic Sources. Langham, Md.: University Press of America, 1988. 243 pp. Idel, Moshe. The Mystical Experience in AbrahamAbulafla. Translated from the Hebrew by Jonathan Chipman. SUNY Series in Hermetic Mysteries and Religions. Albany: State University of New York Press, 1988. 246 Pp. Kieval, Hillel J. The Making of Czech Jewry: National Conflict and Jewish Society in Bohemia, 1870-1918. New York: Oxford Press, 1988. viii, 279 PP. Lester, Julius. Love Song: Becoming a Jew. New York: Henry Holt, 1988. 248 pp. Levenson, Jon D. Creation and the Persistence of Evil: The Jewish Drama of Divine Omnipotence.San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. xvii, 182 pp. Lewin, Samuel. Between Two Abysses. Translated from the Yiddish by Joseph Leftwich. Part 1 of a Trilogy. New York: Cornwall Press, 1988. 221 pp. . Dark Mountain and Blue Mountain. Translated from the Yiddish by Joseph Leftwich. Part 2 of a Trilogy. New York: Cornwall Press, 1988. 151 pp. ?. Shining Throughthe Clouds. Translated from the Yiddish by Joseph Leftwich. Part 3 of a Trilogy. Afterword by Dov Sadan. New York: Cornwall Press, 1988. 161 pp. McGuinness, Brian. Wittgenstein,a Life: YoungLudwig 1889-1921. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1988. xv, 322 pp. Marrus, Michael R. The Holocaust in History. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1987. 267 pp. Mendes-Flohr, Paul, ed. The Philosophy of Franz Rosenzweig. Hanover, N.H.: University Press of New England, 1988. x, 260 pp. Meyer, Michael A. Response to Modernity: A History of the Reform Movement in Judaism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1988. Neusner, Jacob. The Mishnah: A New Translation.New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988. xiv, 1162 pp.
BOOKSRECEIVED
101
Pagels, Elaine. Adam, Eve, and the Serpent. New York: Random House, 1988. xxvii, 189 pp. Rifkin, Jeremy. Time Wars: The Primary Conflict in Human History. New York: Henry Holt, 263 pp. Rosenberg, David, ed. Congregation:ContemporaryWritersRead the Jewish Bible. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. 526 pp. Roth, Wolfgang. Hebrew Gospel: Crackingthe Code of Mark. Oak Park, Ill.: Meyer Stone, 1988. xi, 148 pp. Rudner, Lawrence. The Magic We Do Here. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1988. 212 pp. Sanders, Ronald. Shores of Refuge: A Hundred Yearsof Jewish Immigration. New York: Henry Holt, 1988. viii, 673 pp. Schwartz, Howard. Lilith's Cave: Jewish Tales of the Supernatural.Illustrated by Uri Shulevitz. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. xi, 294 pp. Shalim, Avi. Collusion Across the Jordan. King Abdullah, the Zionist Movement, and the Partition of Palestine. New York: Columbia University Press, 1988. xiv, 676 pp. Shokeid, Moshe. Childrenof Circumstances:Israeli Emigrants in New York. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1988. xiii, 226 pp. Simon, Merrill. Moshe Arens: Statesman and Scientist Speaks Out. Foreword by Senator Daniel K. Innoye. New York: Dean Books, 1988. 266 PP. Simons, Howard. Jewish Times: Voices of the American Jewish Experience. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1988. Sosland, Henry Adler. A Guidefor Preachers on Composing and Delivering Sermons: The "Or Ha-Darshanim" of Jacob Zahalon; a Seventeenth Century Italian Preacher's Manual. Moreshet 11. New York: Jewish Theological Seminary, 1987. xiv, 194 pp. (Eng.), 54 pp. (Heb.) Van Buren, Paul M. A Theology of the Jewish-ChristianReality. 3: Christ in Context. San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988. xix, 312 pp. Weinberger, Leon J. Early Synagogue Poets in the Balkans: Critical Edition with Commentary.Cincinnati: Hebrew Union College Press, 1988. x, 10 pp. (Eng.), 213 pp. (Heb.). Weisskopf-Joelson, Edith. Father, Have I Kept My Promise? Madness as Seen from Within.West Lafayette, Ind.: Purdue University Press, 1988.
viii, 152 pp. Zsuffa, Joseph. Bella Belazs: The Man and the Artist. University of California Press, 1988. 550 pp.
תפקוד,תוכן: אביכם שבשמים תפילת סדר העבודה של יום הכיפורים--ומי מטהר אתכם ומשמעות Author(s): צבי זוהר Source: AJS Review, Vol. 14, No. 1 (Spring, 1989), pp. 1-28 Published by: Cambridge University Press on behalf of the Association for Jewish Studies Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1486294 . Accessed: 01/07/2011 10:31 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. Publisher contact information may be obtained at . http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cup. . Each copy of any part of a JSTOR transmission must contain the same copyright notice that appears on the screen or printed page of such transmission. JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact
[email protected].
Cambridge University Press and Association for Jewish Studies are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to AJS Review.
http://www.jstor.org
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A full definition of keying a. A systematic transformation is involved across materials already meaningful in accordance with a schema of interpretation, and without which the keying would be meaningless. b. Participants in the activity are meant to know and to openly acknowledge that a systematic alteration is involved, one that will radically reconstitute what it is for them that is going on. c. Cues will be available for establishing when the transformation is to begin and when it is to end, namely, brackets in time, within which and to which the transformation is to be restricted. Similarly, spatial brackets will commonly indicate everywhere within which and nowhere outside of which the keying applies on that occasion. d. Keying is not restricted to events perceived within any particular class of perspectives. Just as it is possible to play at quite instrumentally oriented activities, such as carpentry, so it is also possible to play at rituals, such as marriage ceremonies, or even, in the snow, to play at being a falling tree, although admittedly events perceived within a natural schema seem less susceptible to keying than do those perceived within a social one. e. For participants, playing, say, at fighting and playing around at checkers feel to be much the same sort of thing-radically more so than when these two activities are performed in earnest, that is, seriously. Thus, the systematic transformation that a particular keying introduces may alter only slightly the activity thus
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