In an Ashkenazic Bible produced in the thirteenth century, we find a unique micrography decoration portraying Ezekiel's vision. On the bottom margin the Masorah micrography shows the full bodies of the four creatures: the lion facing the ox, and the man, in full armor and holding an object in each hand, facing the eagle. I suggest that the choice to portray the human figure in this micrography as an armored knight can be explained by reference to the tradition describing seeing Jacob's image engraved on the throne in Ezekiel's vision, as also reflected in the writings of Hasidei Ashkenaz. The decoration identifies the human figure as Jacob, which may illustrate the verse 'Avir Ya‘akov, meaning “mighty one of Jacob” or Jacob the Knight.

This article examines the dynamics between the halakhic and aggadic components of a sugya in the Babylonian Talmud, in which the halakhic discussion of the Yom Kippur afflictions listed in M. Yoma 8:1 is followed by a seemingly unrelated aggadic passage that focuses primarily on the manna in the wilderness. A close reading of the aggadic passage reveals that it in fact contains substantive links to the preceding halakhic discussion. Moreover, when the aggadic passage is read in the context of the preceding halakhic discussion, it provides an alternative understanding of the Yom Kippur afflictions that challenges the understanding that arises from the halakhic discussion. Nevertheless, a close look at the redaction of the sugya shows that the alternative understanding that arises from the aggadic part remains on either the conceptual plane or the supererogatory one, and does not cross over to the normative plane.

“Borderland,” by Amy Levy (1861–89), a refiguring of the Song of Songs’ traditional allegory, reverses Song 5:2–6's climax in which the Shulamite unwittingly neglects the advances of her “beloved” while he waits at the door. In “Borderland,” the Shulamite “lover” assumes the initiative by visiting her “beloved,” while he is instead passive. The diverse ways in which “Borderland” can be read reveal contiguity with “Das Hohelied” and “Lyrisches Intermezzo” by German Jewish poet Heinrich Heine (1797–1856), texts also dependent on the Songs of Songs. Indeed, Heine was Levy's “favourite poet”; “Borderland” accordingly reflects her reading of Heine and the employment of similar poetics, though not necessarily continuity or unoriginality. This article therefore looks for what Dan Miron has labelled “literary contiguity,” a process by which “tangible contacts” between “players” in the “modern Jewish literary complex” are identified. This approach identifies “relatedness” between Heine and Levy, but also acknowledges the “differences.”

In the spring of 1881, Jewish communities within the Pale of Settlement in Russia and Romania witnessed the creation of the Jewish nationalist groups, regional associations, and other core organizations that would subsequently evolve into the movement that came to be known as Ḥovevei Ẓion (lovers of Zion), or Ḥibbat Ẓion.

Although anti-Semitism played an important role in stimulating the emergence of Ḥibbat Ẓion, the movement's establishment must be understood as having been shaped by two concurrent processes. One was the conclusion of Jewish emancipation in central and western Europe, which brought central figures in the national movement, such as Leon Pinsker, to the decisive conclusion that the Jews could only be truly emancipated in an independent Jewish state. The second stemmed from the poor socioeconomic conditions faced by Jews of the time, particularly in eastern Europe. The demographic growth experienced by the Jews of eastern Europe, which reached a high point during the last few decades of the nineteenth century, required a dramatic socioeconomic solution that was nowhere to be found. Proponents of the Jewish nationalist movement argued that the establishment of a Jewish state would also help relieve the Jews' social and economic plight.

This article examines the development and sources of the passage, “And it happened at midnight” in Pesikta de-Rav Kahana. Literary analysis of this passage decisively refutes the conjecture that the passage was copied from either Pesikta Rabbati or a lost homiletical midrash on the book of Exodus, and supports the contention that it was formulated by the redactor of the Pesikta itself. Nonetheless, the passage does deviate from certain characteristic trademarks of other piska'ot. The article proposes a general theory as to the dating, nature, and literary creation of the entire Pesikta. While the Pesikta is a unified work, it does include piska'ot that exhibit different literary patterns. These variations reflect changes in Torah reading practices that occurred in the period in which the Pesikta's editor operated.

The Levitical laws of ‘arakhin name only males as those who can actively donate the monetary value of another person to the sanctuary or temple. In contrast, tannaitic texts about ‘arakhin explicitly name females among those who can donate the monetary value of another to the temple. However, this legislation of females as valuers should not be attributed to a rabbinic desire to ameliorate the status of women, but rather should be viewed as part of the larger rabbinic project of rewriting Scripture. In this case, tannaitic literature recategorizes ‘arakhin with votive legislation instead of sanctuary/temple legislation. Close attention to gender enables us to notice the tannaitic rewriting of ‘arakhin and thus investigate the rabbinic reconfiguration of its biblical inheritance, not only for the ways in which rabbinic texts rewrite biblical law concerning gender but also for a richer understanding of the scholastic process itself.

The Palestinian and Babylonian Talmuds preserve fascinating stories about the origins of Roman festivals, through which they attempt to connect Roman history with Jewish history. This paper offers contextual readings of these narratives (Y. Avodah Zarah 1:2 [39c] and B. Avodah Zarah 8b) in light of Greek and Roman texts, epigraphical material, and numismatics, and places these rabbinic narratives within broader debates about cultural memory, Jewish historiography, calendars, and time. In one story, the idolatrous sins committed by a series of Israelite kings are blamed for the geological, mythical, and historical origins of the city of Rome, and a series of Roman imperial motifs and figures (the Tiber River, Remus and Romulus, Numa) are inverted. In another, the Romans are said to draw on the power of the Torah in order to defeat their Greek rivals. The rabbinic stories of Roman festivals and their Jewish origins can be understood as examples of what James C. Scott has called “a hidden transcript”—texts that bring to light an alternative perspective, that of the rabbis, within a Roman imperial context that they often interpreted as hostile or threatening.

This article addresses the philosophical sources of Soloveitchik's unique account of time and repentance as presented particularly in the second part of Halakhic Man. In the past, thinkers such as Max Scheler, Hermann Cohen, and Henri Bergson have been suggested as sources of influence on Soloveitchik on this account. While the influence of these thinkers is undeniable, a fuller appreciation of the philosophical layers at play is still required. This article aims to show that the event of repentance in Soloveitchik's description is formulated in accordance with Kierkegaard's notion of Øieblikket (the moment), and to discuss the place of Heidegger in Soloveitchik's interpretation of repentance.

Rashbam's approach to Rashi's commentary on the Torah is characterized by contrasts: originality and continuity, independence and dependence, open admiration and flagrant aggression. Scholars have clarified various aspects of this complex stance, yet their analyses do not provide a comprehensive explanation for it. This article argues that Rashbam's approach to Rashi's commentary is not based on methodological principles alone, but also includes an emotional element that is in part unconscious. To analyze these complex emotional elements of the text, the article uses a theoretical model that demonstrates that the ambivalence reflected in the text is not unusual, and in fact can be found in relationships between other writers— “the anxiety of influence,” as formulated by Harold Bloom. This conclusion sheds new light on Rashbam's commentary, including several of its more well-known passages.

Academic achievement was prized in Babylonian rabbinic culture (fourth to sixth centuries CE). Yet alongside examples of scholarly ingenuity, the Babylonian Talmud records intellectual setbacks. How academic failure is constituted and the reactions to it within the talmudic text are key to understanding dynamics between sages and the cultural values of Babylonian rabbinic Judaism. Academic failure depends more on the social rank of the man than on the nature of his mistake. The modes of failure for sages in teaching positions differ from those for sages in lower-ranked social positions. Higher-status sages are treated more sympathetically, while lower-rank sages encounter derision within brief narratives and critique from the later editors. These exchanges demonstrate the high degree of expertise expected of participants in the scholastic culture, while normalizing scholastic failure (to a certain extent) as part of academic innovation. Analyzing brief narratives depicting scholastic failure in talmudic legal dialectic necessitates literary analysis of legal passages as a whole, emphasizing the continued importance of literary theory in the study of rabbinics.

This essay explores the rhetoric and performance of grief by examining two related bodies of texts composed in Jewish Palestinian Aramaic: eulogies for deceased individuals (hespedim) and communal laments (kinot) for Jerusalem; also included are two “narrative laments” from the same corpus that construct the voices of grieving biblical characters. In the analysis, the dynamics among the living participants in the mourning rituals are investigated, as well as the ways rituals of individual grief and rituals of communal mourning shape each other. Throughout the analysis, specific rhetorical techniques associated with mourning in both the Jewish world and in classical Greco-Roman sources and early Christian materials merit particular scrutiny, as do the experiential components of rhetorical techniques such as refrains, antiphony, anadiplosis, and dialogue. Along the way, contextual features important for understanding the function and efficacy of these works are addressed: social setting, liturgical station, affinity for biblical texts, and the status of the mourned party.

At the height of the 1525 Peasants' Rebellion, Josel of Rosheim negotiated directly with the peasants. Although he described this interaction in his writings, he omitted the content of their conversation. Previous scholars have examined the contemporaneous negotiation between the Christian authorities in Strasbourg and the peasants as a parallel to Josel's negotiation. Their interpretations of what transpired between Josel and the peasants, heavily shaped by modern Jewish-Christian relations, are wanting. This article uses histoire croisée to reassess the negotiation. By considering the personal relationships between Josel and Strasbourg's political and religious leaders alongside Josel's writings, it argues that the Jewish and Christian negotiators coordinated their efforts. This case study models a method through which scholars can begin to move beyond recognizing parallels and toward analyzing the transmission of information and ideas between Jews and Chrisitians.

Although scholars have written extensively about Moses Ḥayim Luzzatto and his literary oeuvre, there has been virtually no work on his stay in Amsterdam (1735–43). The controversy over his supposed Sabbatianism, which engulfed much of the European rabbinate and led to his self-imposed exile from Padua, did not rage overtly in the Dutch Republic, and historians have generally regarded these years as nothing more than a quiet period for Luzzatto and of little consequence to him personally.

Using previously unpublished archival material, this article demonstrates that Luzzatto was highly regarded in Amsterdam's generally insular Portuguese community. He received charity and a regular stipend to study in the Ets Haim Yeshiva, forged relationships with both rabbinic and lay leaders, and arguably influenced the community's religious outlook. However, a comparison of the manuscript and print versions of Mesillat yesharim, his famous Musar treatise composed and published in the city, reveals the limitations under which Luzzatto lived. Research into Luzzatto's time in Amsterdam shows the man's enduring self-assurance and relentless critique of his critics, as well as the Portuguese rabbinate's broadening horizons.

The aggadah about Elisha ben Abuyah and R. Meir in Y. Ḥagigah 2:1 (77b–c) includes a striking interpretation and enactment of a verse from the book of Ruth. In the climactic scene, R. Meir spreads his garment over his master's burning grave, performing the deed that Ruth requests of Boaz on the threshing floor, and offers a bold interpretation of Ruth 3:13, Boaz's reply to that request. The combined interpretation and enactment of this dramatic scene in the Ruth story at the climactic moment of the aggadah suggests that one might look for a more extensive engagement of the rabbinic narrative with the biblical story. This article explores ways in which the aggadah might be read in relation to the book of Ruth and argues that such a reading highlights core themes of the aggadah and helps disclose the theological and moral stance of this rabbinic narrative.