It’s popularly understood that the completion of the Talmud around 1,500 years ago marked a critical transition in halachic history. From that point on, halachic conclusions found in the Talmud were binding on all Jews everywhere and for all time.
This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Marc Shapiro— examines the term ‘Halachic fiction.’ It is used to describe legal constructs in Halacha (Jewish law) that are not literally true, but serve as mechanisms to reconcile the demands of Halacha with the realities of lived experience. In other words, there is a category of Halacha—popular during the post Shulchan Aruch period (from the sixteenth century to this day)—where the “community’s ritual instinct” (Halbertal 2002:166, citing Jacob Katz), as well as custom, determine the law, sometimes to a greater extent than the rabbis.
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| Piskei haRid and Piskei haRiaz. Rid (grandfather) and Riaz (grandson) published together in one volume, although their worldviews were very different. |
This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Marc Shapiro[1]—asks whether the Italian commentator and Talmudist, R. Yeshaya di Trani (known as Riaz) had a larger influence on future Judaism than Maimonides. Riaz was one of the rabbis who vigorously opposed Maimonides during the Maimonidean Controversies that consumed the rabbinic world in the centuries after Maimonides’ passing in 1204. It seems that the rabbis were not ready for the radical expansiveness of Maimonidean thought, and under the leadership of Riaz—the great anti‑Maimonidean polemicist—refused to allow Judaism to be subjected to philosophical creed or inquiry. Maimonides’ towering philosophical system threatened to redefine Judaism as a religion of creed and rational inquiry. Not all rabbis were prepared to accept this radical shift, and Riaz emerged as one of the most forceful voices of resistance, rejecting the binding nature of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith as well as his rationalism. Instead, he argued for a simpler, unsophisticated and non-dogmatic faith based solely on Halachic observance.
Introduction
This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Oded Yisraeli—examines references to the mezuzah from both before and after the emergence of the Zohar in the late thirteenth century, in order to trace shifting cosmologies. To map these changing approaches, we shall examine successive periods of Jewish literature from the third century to our times, each marked by distinct emphases and developments in the evolving mystical cosmology of the mezuzah.
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| Jan Jansson's Duo Tituli Thalmudici Sanhedrin et Maccoth (Amsterdam, 1629) |
Introduction
This article—based extensively on the research by Yaacov Amar Rothstein—identifies two distinct layers in the development of the Seven Laws of Noah, comprising an early rabbinic conception, and a later reinterpretation. In the Talmud and classical rabbinic sources, the Sheva Mitzvot Bnei Noach were not envisioned as a comprehensive universal religion for non‑Jews, but rather as a minimal legal framework—a baseline of obligations incumbent upon humanity with clear consequences for their violation. The difference between these two layers of perception is immense. The modern idea of a ‘Noahide religion,’ presented as the original biblical faith intended for all non‑Jews, does not originate in rabbinic tradition. Surprisingly, it first emerged within Medieval Christian polemics and Early Modern[1] European thought. It was only as recently as about one hundred and fifty years ago that this universalist reading was taken up within Jewish discourse, most notably by R. Elia Benamozegh (d.1900), and later expanded upon by contemporary figures such as the Lubavitcher Rebbe and R. Adin Steinsaltz. [See: Kotzk Blog: 523) Radical rabbinic models of universalism and Kotzk Blog: 522) Italian letters: The battle over the Zohar].
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| Secrets of the Guide by Dr Micha Goodman |
How Maimonides might view us
Introduction
Part I examined the reception of Maimonidean thought in rabbinic Judaism. Part II now turns the focus on its head and examines, theoretically, how Maimonides might view contemporary Judaism as we know it.
We begin with an overview of the essence of Moreh
Nevuchim (Guide for the Perplexed) in an attempt to understand what
it means by ‘secrets.’
‘Secrets’
There are two bodies of knowledge that Maimonides describes as Maaseh Bereishit and Maaseh Merkavah, which together form the Pardes (Orchard of esoteric wisdom) into which the four sages entered (b. Chagiga 14b). This knowledge (yeda), he maintains, once existed among the prophets and sages until a tragedy occurred, and that knowledge was lost. Maimonides understands a real prophet as—not someone who experiences visions—but rather as a composite of perfected intellect, ethics and ability to imagine (Goodman 2015:39). Maimonides believed that the greatest loss to Judaism was not the destruction of the Temple or its rituals, but the loss of knowledge. Maimonides (Introduction to Moreh Nevuchim, section 3) writes that he managed to re-establish the hidden secret that our Masoret (Tradition) had lost. He did this, not through revelation or prophecy but through the capacity of the mind.
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| R. Yihye Kafich (1850-1931), leader of the rationalist Yemenite group Dardaim. |
Introduction
This two-part series series—based extensively on the research by Professor Marc B. Shapiro and Dr Micha Goodman—engages in a dialogue of vision: Part I examines how we view Maimonides and the reception of Maimonidean thought in rabbinic Judaism, particularly over the past two and a half centuries. Although arguably the greatest Jewish thinker, the rabbinic world has always had an ambivalent relationship with Maimonides, beginning with centuries of opposition—known as the Maimonidean Controversies—to a partial acceptance of selected writings of Maimonides only in relatively recent times. Part II turns the focus on its head and examines, theoretically, how Maimonides might view contemporary Judaism as we know it.
How we view
Maimonides
Enlightenment
Shapiro(2023:168) explains that over the last two and a half centuries, rabbinic interest has been resurgent in Maimonides, ironically as a result of the rise of the Enlightenment movement in late eighteenth-century Germany. Faced with increasing engagement with Maimonides’ philosophical writings by the maskilim (secular members of the Enlightenment), the rabbis formulated different responses to a renewed problem that—although always there—had lain dormant for so long.
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| Sefer haZohar, Cremona Edition (1559-1560) |
Introduction
This article—based extensively on the work by Professor Ronit Meroz—examines new evidence suggesting that the Zohar and Sefer haBahir may have originated in the Middle East, challenging the prevailing Spanish and Provencal origin theories. Sidestepping the controversies over who wrote the Zohar, it is historically evident that the text first appeared in material form around 1290 in Spain. This emergence led the majority of scholars to conclude that the Zohar was a creation of Spanish Kabbalists. Meroz's research, however, shifts the cultural milieu for the origins of this emerging Kabbalah, from Spanish and French Christian lands to Middle Eastern Muslim lands.
Gershom Scholem: Single authorship by Moshe de León in Spain
In the 1940s, Gershom Scholem ascribed the role of sole authorship of the Zohar to Moshe de León, based on similarities in Moshe de León’s writing style when compared to his other known books. This view remained the dominant scholarship for half a century.
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| 14th century copy of Avraham Ibn Daud's Sefer haKabbalah |
Is it possible that Maimonides (1138-1204) had an unspoken mentor who has been largely overlooked by history? This ‘mentor’ may have been the twelfth-century philosopher, translator, and historian Avraham Ibn Daud (c. 1110–1180). “[H]istory has been rather unkind” (Fontaine 2023:1) to Avraham Ibn Daud. Yet, it seems that Maimonides was not the first to engage with Arabic Aristotelian rationalists, because just decades before, Avraham Ibn Daud emerged as the pioneering rabbinic thinker who made:
“the first attempt to integrate the teachings of the Muslim Aristotelians into a Jewish philosophic theology” (Fontaine 2007-8:23).
It must be noted that Avraham Ibn Daud passed away when Maimonides was about twenty-five years old, yet Maimonides is often (perhaps unfairly) credited as the first to have achieved this theological synthesis that changed the face of Judaism.
It’s commonly assumed that Jewish belief in G-d has remained consistent throughout history. In truth, Jewish perceptions of the Divine have been strikingly diverse, shaped and reshaped across centuries, cultures, and theological currents.
Many are familiar with the contrast between Maimonidean
philosophical rationalism—rooted in Aristotelian thought—and the mystical
worldview of Kabbalah which some maintain is rooted in Neoplatonic thought.[1]
Yet there is a third, often overlooked theological strand with ancient roots:
Jewish binitarianism. Emerging as early as Second Temple times, this approach suggests
a dual structure within the Divine, typically involving a transcendent G-d and
a mediating figure. Any serious discussion of Jewish theology must move beyond
the binary of rationalism and mysticism to include this third, lesser-known but
historically significant option. This discussion explores the theological
tensions of the thirteenth century surrounding the nature and definition of
G-d.
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| Raphael's fresco, School of Athens, painted around 1509. |
Introduction
This article explores the intellectual legacy of Abu Ya'qub Isḥāq ibn Sulaymān al-Israeli—also known as Yitzchak ben Shlomo haYisraeli (c.855–c.955)—a pioneering yet largely overlooked figure in early Medieval Jewish philosophy. Through a counterintuitive comparison between Yitzchak haYisraeli’s tenth-century philosophical writings and contemporary Chassidic thought rooted in Kabbalah, the study reveals an unexpected conceptual convergence between the two thought systems.
If we (theoretically) removed all innovations to the modern siddur which were added in the past 500 years, we’d probably spend considerably less time in shul. And from a halachic perspective, that’s a problem. So let’s talk about the prohibition of delaying a congregation (טרחא דציבורא).
We’ll begin with the Gemara (Berachos 12b):
בקשו לקבוע פרשת בלק בקריאת שמע ומפני מה לא קבעוה מפני טורח ציבור
The rabbis sought to include Parashas Balak in the recital of the Shema. Why did they not include it? Because it would delay congregations
It seems there was a compelling reason to add (at least) one more paragraph to the Shema, but it was ruled inappropriate solely due to the fact that countless Jews through countless centuries would be forced to spend more time davening. (Although we see from the subsequent Gemara that, had it been possible to add just the words “כרע שכב כארי וכלביא מי יקימנו" the minimal time delay would not have been a problem.)
