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Sunday, 17 May 2026

553) The forgotten legacy of Philo of Alexandria


 Introduction

This articlebased extensively on the research by Rabbi Dovid Campbellexamines the often-overlooked intellectual legacy and deep influence of Philo Judaeus of Alexandria (20 BCE-50 CE) on later Jewish thought. Philo, a leader of “the largest Jewish community of the first century,” may have been “one of history’s most influential Jews”. He laid solid foundations for “the entire stream of Western philosophy, including its religious and distinctively Jewish branches” (Campbell 2024:42). Essentially, Philo was an early, if not the first, thinker to understand the Torah as speaking the language of philosophy behind the plain meaning of its text. For Philo, Torah was philosophy. At this stage in Jewish history, Torah meant Tanach or Bible, because the rabbinic or Talmudic period was just beginning. Philo introduced numerous philosophical ideas into Judaism that changed its shape forever, but the man behind these contributions was lost to Jewish history. Today, we only know about Philo because other religious traditions preserved his work. In fact, many of his forgotten contributions have unknowingly become part of the very fabric of contemporary Orthodox Judaism, to the extent that those who disregard them wouldto this dayalmost certainly be considered as espousing heretical views. Campbell’s groundbreaking research expounds on this peculiar irony. 

From Philo to Christianity, to Islam, then back to Judaism

Christianity

Philo’s teachingswhich he drew and perfected from a rich earlier philosophical culture prevalent in Alexandria—followed a circular theological path as they were first adopted by the Christians (the Church Fathers), then the Muslims and finally made their way back to Judaism through the medieval Jewish philosophers like Saadia Gaon and Maimonides (Cortest 2017:x): 

“[M]ediaeval philosophy is the history of the philosophy of Philo” (Wolfson 1962: vol. 2, 457, 459-460). 

The second-century Church Fathers, such as Origen and Clement of Alexandria, were exposed to Philo’s writings. Clement is the first Christian to discuss Philo and did so about three hundred times. Origen had an almost complete collection of Philo’s writings in his private library, and he transported these books with him to Caesarea in 233 CE. Later Christians, like the ninth-century Photius, Patriarch of Constantinople, noted that Philo introduced the notion of allegorical reading of Scripture (i.e., not always taking biblical verses literally). This was also an approach Maimonides later adopted during the twelfth century. 

Islam

After being adopted by many Church Fathers, Philo’s philosophy and approach reached the minds of the Muslims. Surprisingly, many of the key doctrines of Islam were taken directly from the Church fathers: 

“[The Islamic doctrines] were not new ideas, they are identical with Greek and Christian ideas which had for centuries past been in circulation in Christian schools and monasteries in the area” (Seale 1980:12). 

Dr Mufti Ali has similarly shown—in his comprehensive investigation of the origins of Islamic theology—that there was indeed a formative influence of Christianity on Islamic theology (Ali 2023:7). This is an interesting perspective because we don’t usually view Islam in light of influence from the Church Fathers. 

Fascinatingly, Maimonides—prefiguring the findings of current academic scholarship—writes that both Christian and Islamic theology arose as a response to Christian and Islamic encounters with Greek philosophy. Maimonides further maintains that both the Gaonim (i.e., the rabbis from 856-1038 CE) and the Karaites (i.e., the Jews who took the Torah literally and rejected the rabbinical interpretations thereof) were influenced by Islamic theology. Maimonides openly acknowledges that even his own Jewish Andalusian roots (in southern Spain) followed the path of “the [Islamic] philosophers”: 

“Know that the many sciences devoted to establishing the truth regarding these matters that have existed in our religious community have perished because of the length of time that has passed…Know also that all the statements that the men of Islam…have made concerning these notions are all of them opinions founded upon premises that are taken over from the books of the Greeks…The Christian community came to include those communities…inasmuch as the opinions of the philosophers were widely accepted in those communities…Men of later periods who study these books know nothing about all this…I studied the books of the Mutakallimūn [Islamic rationalists and philosophers]…and I have likewise studied the books of the [Greek] philosophers [who inspired the Muslims]…Thus also do those belonging to our community who imitate them [the Muslims] and follow their ways (Maimonides: Guide for the Perplexed I:71, Pines:175-179). 

Maimonides—by embracing Philo’s general categories of thought—also confirms a profound influence from Philo. 

According to Morris Seale, the eighth-century Muslim theologian, Jahm bin Ṣafwān had a profound influence on Islamic philosophy. Jahm was familiar with—and even taught—the doctrines of the Church Fathers. Jahm was particularly interested in the idea of a transcendental God (i.e., an unknowable God beyond human comprehension, incorporeal (formless), and inaccessible through positive descriptions), as well as the idea of allegorising biblical verses (i.e., not always taking biblical verses literally). This underscores a significant “Greek Christian influence on Islamic theology” (Campbell 2024:46). According to Seale: 

“Jahm interpreted allegorically anthropomorphic [i.e., ascribing human characteristics to God, such as God’s ‘hand’] passages in the Qur’an in the same way as Philo and the [Church] Fathers interpreted the Bible and the Greeks Homer” (Seale 1980:53). 

These two theologically innovative ideas of a transcendental God and allegorising biblical verses, however, did not originate with the Church Fathers, but instead began with Philo. One might say that Philo’s allegorisation of biblical anthropomorphisms allowed him to maintain divine transcendence. The fact that these Philolic ideas permeated first into Christianity and then into Islam and finally back again into Jewish philosophy indicates that Philo brought about a seismic shift in future Jewish, Christian and Islamic religious thinking, with roots going all the way back to the first century. The Muslim rationalists (Mutakallimūn) thus served as a bridge, inheriting the notions of transcendence and allegorisation from Christian thought—which the Christians had originally inherited from Philo—reframing it in Islamic theology, and then passing it back, as Maimonides points out, into Jewish thought. 

Departure from Talmudic thought

If this historic line of scholarly and Maimonidean reasoning is correct, then we arrive at an astounding conclusion: 

“The religious philosophy of Maimonides and other Jewish philosophers will be shown to be a departure from Talmudic tradition and an embrace of the Philonic categories and modes of thought...” (Campbell 2024:46). 

The Talmudic Sages certainly developed their own cosmology (metaphysical perspectives of the universe) and theodicy (the question of how evil exists in a world created by a good God)—but Philo understood the Torah as being entirely philosophical. However, it must be noted that Philo never suggested a departure from the religious observance of his time (although he lived two centuries before the conclusion of the Mishnaic period, when the laws were first being formulated). Nevertheless: 

“Philo essentially views the Torah as a program of philosophical education” (Campbell 2024:48). 

This definition of Torah as philosophy was clearly not the general perception and conclusion of the Talmudic project. 

The Talmudic Sages promoted a system of Jewish law that was anything but philosophical in the Philonic and Maimonidean (Guide for the Perplexed) sense. For example, the thirteenth-century Italian rabbi, Isaiah of Trani (the younger), known as Riaz, challenges Maimonides. Unlike his grandfather, Isaiah of Trani (the elder), known as Rid, Riaz was opposed to philosophy, which he claimed “denied the Torah.[1] 

Riaz confronts Maimonides on the question of God’s corporeality (i.e., God having a body, see: Kotzk Blog: 074) THE NOTION THAT G-D HAS A 'BODY' - In Early and Modern Rabbinical Writings:). Maimonides did not believe that God had a body despite many biblical references to God’s hands, fingers, anger and so on. Maimonides labelled as a Min (Heretic) anyone who believed that God has a bodily form. Riaz, however, maintains that many Talmudic Sages did indeed believe that God had a body. Riaz’s conclusion is profoundly anti-philosophical: 

“Chazal [i.e., the Talmudic Sages] clearly did not insist upon a philosophical understanding. Rather, a person can believe in the unity [of God] according to his ability . . . and believe based on tradition . . . For Moshe gave the Torah to Yisrael based on tradition and faith. Likewise, the Sages of the Mishna and Talmud focused entirely on tradition and faith and did not instruct one to investigate or philosophize…” (Kuntros haReayot leRiaz to Sanhedrin 90a). 

Riaz was not the only rabbi to challenge Maimonides’ philosophical approach of a non-corporeal (i.e., non-physical) and transcendent God, because the twelfth-century rabbi and Kabbalist Avraham ben David of Posquières, known as Raavad III, attacked Maimonides and claimed that “many greater and better than he [i.e., greater than Maimonides]” held such a belief in God possessing a bodily form. 

Clearly, we have a dichotomy between the standard Talmudic approach and that of the rationalist philosophers like Maimonides. The philosophic slant—traceable in a circular root via Islam and Christianity back to Philo—vehemently opposed corporeality and suggested transcendence and allegorisation instead. This does appear to be a stark departure from what was later to become standard Talmudic thought. 

Philo’s ‘negative theology’ as a departure from later Talmudic thought

Related to the notion of God’s transcendence is Philo’s notion of negative theology. Philo’s negative theology went on (perhaps ironically) to inform all aspects of Jewish mysticism, including Chassidism, seventeen centuries later. I had first come across the idea of negative theology years ago when I started studying Chassidut. My teachers explained to me that this idea of negative theology was pioneered by the eighteenth-century Chassidic movement. I was, therefore, surprised to see its origins in Philo’s first-century rationalist philosophy. Negative theology is the idea that one cannot describe God by what God is (because we don’t know what God is), but rather we describe God ‘negatively’ by what God is not. By saying God is wise, kind or strong, for example, is limiting God and is anthropomorphic (describing God in human terms). For example, instead of defining God as infinite, one says that God is not finite. Philo taught that ‘positive’ descriptions distort the idea of what God is. Negative theology, also known as apophatic theology (as opposed to cataphatic theology, where one describes what God is), leaves God’s essence beyond human grasp yet still affirms God's transcendent perfection by denying imperfection. Bachya Ibn Pakuda (Chovot haLevavot)— who passed away just fifteen years before Maimonides was born—and Maimonides built on this idea of negative theology, with Maimonides teaching that even words like “existence”[2] or “unity” cannot be positively applied to God. 

Interesting, this negative theology is yet another area where Philonic and Maimonidean thought diverges from classical Talmudic thought. This is because the Talmud embraced the biblical language of God’s attributes, like “existence,” “life,” “knowledge,” “power,” and “mercy.” The Talmud did not problematise these terms like Philo and the later Medieval Jewish philosophers did. 

Maimonides’ Principles of Faith as a departure from Talmudic thought

Maimonides famous Thirteen Principles of Faith, which have become cornerstones of contemporary Judaism, are also essentially derived from Philonic thought and represent another departure from Talmudic thought. Three centuries after Maimonides, R. Don Yitzchak Abravanel joined those who opposed the innovation of Maimonides’ Principles of Faith: Abravanel writes: 

“[Maimonides’ and his followers] were brought to postulate principles in the divine Torah only because they were drawn after the custom of gentile scholars as described in their books” (Abravanel, Rosh Amana, ch. 23; translation by Menachem Kellner). 

Once again, emphasising the perceived departure from classical Talmudic thought, Abravanel continues: 

“If there were principles and roots in the Torah, why were they never mentioned by the sages?... in their wisdom the sages did not assent to the postulating of principles and roots in the divine Torah, for all of it is true and divine; there are no beliefs in it more fundamental than others” (Ibid.). 

Shlomo Pill researched the origins of Maimonides’ Principles of Faith, which introduced dogma and systematic theology into Judaism (for what is often described as the first time): 

“Maimonides’s incorporation of systematic theology into Jewish thought and law was significantly influenced by Islam’s own prior shift from orthopraxy [where religious practice and observance are prioritised] to orthodoxy [where fundamental principles of faith and dogma are prioritised] as the hallmark of religiosity” (Pill 2014:2).[3] 

According to R. Shimshon Rafael Hirsch, Maimonides' departure from Talmudic thought is so evident that he describes him as an Arabic-Greek thinker! (Hirsch 1899:182).[4] 

Bearing in mind that this “Islamic shift to orthodoxy has its roots in Philo” (Campbell 2024:51), we return once more to our starting point—Philo. Philo postulated, not thirteen but five dogmata (principles of faith) in his De Opificio Mundi. In this sense, it was not Maimonides who innovated Principles of Faith, but Philo. 

“What these detractors [from Abravanel to R. Hirsch] could not have known was that Maimonides, [also] almost certainly unknowingly, was indeed drawing on an ancient Jewish tradition. Its origins are to be found not in Yavneh or Pumbedita but in first-century Jewish Alexandria” (Campbell 2024:64). 

Conclusion

Over the last one thousand years—from when Philonic ideas were reintroduced to Judaism by the Medieval Jewish philosophers—Jewish thinkers, from rationalists to mystics, have extensively engaged with the ideas of negative theology, transcendence, allegorisation, dogma and principles of faith—issues that are still foremost in contemporary Jewish theological discussions. Campbell has shown how, in all of these areas, the forgotten Alexandrian philosopher, Philo, emerges as “the father,” “the first,” and “the earliest” Jewish thinker to bring these ideas into Judaism.  Over centuries, through the circular routes via Christianity and Islam, they returned to Judaism. Astoundingly, these ideas were not always embraced by the Talmud, which developed a system of thought quite at variance with these ideas. Yet Philo, born in 20 BCE and preceding the birth of the Talmudic era, was somehow skipped over by almost all the sages and adopted by other cultures, until he returned, later, to Judaism through the Medieval Jewish philosophers. Yet, Philo’s thoughts are not extraneous to the contemporary Orthodox ear. His writings are being translated into Hebrew and becoming available to a traditional audience. According to Naomi Cohen: 

“When read through a Jewish prism, Philo's writings reveal a world of allegorical/theosophical semi-esoteric thought that is not foreign to the strongholds of contemporary traditionalist Judaism and is congenial to it in spirit” (Cohen 2008:43). 

In more recent times, R. David Cohen, known as haRav haNazir, began introducing studies of Philo into the curriculum of Merkaz haRav Yeshiva with the blessing of his teacher R. Avraham Yitzchak haCohen Kook. Still, Philo remains essentially unknown to most Jews today. Even those who do know his name often exhibit a negative attitude towards him, even though—unbeknownst to them—Philo shaped, and then reshaped, much of the Judaism we have today.

 

Bibliography 

Ali, M., 2023, Muslim Opposition to Logic and Theology in the Light of the Works of Jalāl al-Dīn al-Suyūtī (d. 911/1505), UIN Banten Press.

Campbell, D., 2024, ‘The Origins and Ambiguities of Modern Jewish Thought’, TRADITION, vol.56, no. 4, 42-65.

Cohen, N., 2008, ‘Philo Judeaus and the Torah True Library’, Tradition, vol. 41, no. 3, 31-48.

Cortest, L., 2017, Philo’s Heirs: Moses Maimonides and Thomas Aquinas, Academic Studies Press.

Hirsch, S.R., 1899, The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, translated by Bernard Drachman, Funk & Wagnalls.

Pill, S.C., 2014, ‘Law as Faith, Faith as Law: The Legalization of Theology in Islam and Judaism in the Thought of Al-Ghazali and Maimonides’, Berkeley Journal of Middle Eastern & Islamic Law, vol. 6, no.1, 1-25.

Seale, M.S., 1980, Muslim Theology: A Study of Origins with Reference to the Church Fathers, Luzac and Company Limited.

Wolfson, H.A., 1962, Philo: Foundations of Religious Philosophy in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Harvard University Press (first published 1947, revised edition 1962).

Hirsch, S.R., 1899, The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, translated by Bernard Drachman, Funk & Wagnalls.

I thank Dr Avi Harel for these sources:

 מיריי הדס-לבל, פילון האלכסנדרוני – בין יהדות להלניזם, הוצאת ידיעות ספרים, 2007י. עמיר, פילון מאלכסנדריה, בתוך מ. שטרן (עורך), הפזורה היהודית בעולם ההלניסטי-רומי, ירושלים תשמ"ג, עמ' 238–264חננאל מאק, הפרשנות הקדומה למקרא, תל אביב, הוצאת משרד הביטחון – אוניברסיטה משודרת, 1993, עמ' 66–73מארן ניהוף, פילון האלכסנדרוני: ביוגרפיה אינטלקטואלית / מארן ר' ניהוף; תרגמו מאנגלית: אסף רוט, רון אגמון. ירושלים: הוצאת ספרים ע"ש י"ל מאגנס – האוניברסיטה העברית, תשפ"ב 2021[15]דוד כהן (הנזיר), "הפלוסופיא היהודית האלכסנדרונית", נזיר אחיו, הוצאת נזר דוד, ירושלים תשל"ח, כרך ב עמ' שכא–תד

אלעד פילר, פילון – הפילוסופיה בשירות פרשנות המקרא, הוצאת אדרא



[2] It interesting to note, however, that one of Philo’s principles of faith did include belief in the “existence” of God (see below). Perhaps Maimonides was a more extreme adherent of apophatic theology than Philo?

[3] Pill, S.C., 2014, ‘Law as Faith, Faith as Law: The Legalization of Theology in Islam and Judaism in the Thought of Al-Ghazali and Maimonides’, Berkeley Journal of Middle Eastern & Islamic Law, vol. 6, no.1, 1-25.

[4] R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, S.R., 1899, The Nineteen Letters of Ben Uziel, translated by Bernard Drachman, Funk & Wagnalls.


Sunday, 10 May 2026

552) The added blessing in the Amidah: Who are we cursing?

 

Kefar Sachnin in Galilee

Introduction:

This articlebased extensively on the research by Professor R. Reuven Kimelman[1]examines the twelfth of the eighteen (today nineteen) blessings of the Amidah, in an attempt to establish just who it is referring to. The nature of the ‘blessing’ is more of a curse and a petition for this community (or these communities) to “instantly perish.” The text of this prayerwhich is today known as Bircat haMinim (Blessing denouncing the Heretics)becomes a fascinating window into Jewish perceptions of the need to exclude the ‘other’ during the first century CE. The question is: who is this unnamed ‘other’ (or ‘others’)? 

Different contemporary versions of the text

Nusach Ashkenaz

According to the Ashkenaz version of the Prayer Book, we read: 

וְלַמַּלְשִׁינִים אַל תְּהִי תִקְוָה וְכָל הָרִשְׁעָה כְּרֶֽגַע תֹּאבֵד וְכָל אֹיְבֶֽיךָ מְהֵרָה יִכָּרֵֽתוּ וְהַזֵּדִים מְהֵרָה תְעַקֵּר וּתְשַׁבֵּר וּתְמַגֵּר וְתַכְנִֽיעַ בִּמְהֵרָה בְיָמֵֽינוּ

“Let there be no hope for informers and may all wickedness instantly perish; may all the enemies of Your people be swiftly cut off, and may You quickly uproot, crush, rout and subdue the insolent, speedily in our days” (Siddur Ashkenaz).[2] 

In this version, the textual references to any particular community remain ambiguous, employing broad terms such as “wickedness,” “enemies,” and “the insolent” rather than identifying specific groups. We know from the Talmud (b. Berachot 28b) that originally there were only eighteen blessings in the Amidah (standing prayer). Then Rabban Gamliel (d.c. 118 CE),[3] the head of the Sanhedrin at Yavneh, instituted the nineteenth blessing, Bircat haMinim’ (the Benediction of [against] the Heretics). Rabban Gamliel II clearly felt he had good reason to add an extra benediction to an established prayer tradition. 

According to the Artscroll commentary in the Schottenstein Edition: 

“The blessing was composed in response to the threats of heretical Jewish sects such as the Sadducees…and the early Christians who tried to lead Jews astray…and used their political power to…slander them to the anti-semitic Roman government” (ArtScroll Siddur, Ashkenaz). 

It is interesting to note that, although this passage is known as ‘Bircat haMinim,’ for some reason, the Siddur Ashkenaz does not use the word ‘Minim’ (Heretics). However, the ArtScroll commentary is quick to inform us just who this unnamed community of informers was: 

“It is directed against the early Christians who informed against Jews to the Roman authorities after the destruction of the Second Temple, causing them to be put to an excruciatingly painful death” (Siddur Ashkenaz, ArtScroll).[4] 

Nusach Ari

The Chabad Siddur, Tehillat Hashem, however, exhibits some significant differences and does use the term ‘Minim’ (Heretics): 

וְלַמַּלְשִׁינִים אַל תְּהִי תִקְוָה, וְכָל הַמִּינִים וְכָל הַזֵּדִים כְּרֶגַע יֹאבֵדוּ, וְכָל אֹיְבֵי עַמְּךָ מְהֵרָה יִכָּרֵתוּ, וּמַלְכוּת הָרִשְׁעָה מְהֵרָה תְעַקֵּר וּתְשַׁבֵּר וּתְמַגֵּר, וְתַכְנִיעַ בִּמְהֵרָה בְיָמֵינוּ

Yet, in a typical mystical manner, the Chabad Siddur offers an esoteric explanation that completely sidesteps any allusion or hint to any particular historic community (not Sadducees, nor Christians, nor anyone else). Instead, it refers to mystical spiritual forces (Kelipot) caused by our misdeeds, who ‘inform’ on us in Heaven: 

“In this blessing, one should focus his intent against all the accusing forces that were brought into being by his sins and now serve as negative influences against him in the sublime realms”.[5]  

From a historical perspective, however, one may reasonably assume that if this blessing was instituted at such a critical juncture in Jewish history—shortly after the destruction of the Second Temple—it must have been directed against a concrete and identifiable group, or groups, perceived as posing a real and serious physical threat to Judaism. This perceived danger warranted an explicit liturgical protest, prompting the rabbis to alter the established order of prayer. There must have been a dire need to self-define and exclude the ‘other,’ and draw a line between who was officially Jewish and who was not: 

“A decisive stage in the process of communal self-definition is reached when a community sets criteria for exclusion” (Kimelman 1981:226). 

Kimelman unexpectedly argues that this unnamed groupset aside in Jewish public prayer for a curse and exclusionwas not the early Christians known as Notzrim, as most have assumed, but rather a Jewish-Christian sect known as Natzrim (Nazoraeans). These Jews observed the Shabbat on both Saturdays and Sundays. It is difficult to distinguish between Notzrim and Natzrim in the texts because the Hebrew letters are similar. Today, Notzrim would usually have a ‘vav’ (נוצרים), which, as paleographers warn, being a single-stroke letter, is often prone to error. Also, once knowledge of the ancient Jewish-Christian sect of Nazoraeans was forgotten, “the pronunciation was forgotten and the plene vav [Malei – full vav] was inserted…this often happened to no longer understood rabbinic terms” (Kimelman 1981:400 n.91). 

The historical record

An early version of this Bircat haMinim prayer was discovered just over a century ago in the Cairo Geniza. This fragment dates to around the Tenth century:[6] 

“For the apostates let there be no hope.

And let the arrogant government be speedily uprooted in our days.

Let the Notzrim and the Minim be destroyed in a moment…

Baruch atah…who humblest the arrogant” (Cairo Geniza fragment 10th C). 

There are at least six versions of Bircat haMinim that similarly reference Notzrim and Minin (which Kimelman argues could and should be read Natzrim). In fact, of these six versions, three indeed read Natzrim (נצרים) instead of Notzrim (נוצרים) (Marmorstein 1924).[7] 

Furthermore, Professor Shimon Shavit informed Kimelman that one other Geniza fragment is actually vocalised as ‘vehaNatzrim’ (וְהַנָצְרִם). Also, a fifteenth-century Sefaradic Syrian prayer book, ‘Siddur Aram Tzova,’ has וְהַנִצְרִם (vehaNitzrim), whichwhatever it means—certainly precludes Notzrim (Christians). On this reading, the Natzrim and Minim (who often seem to be referenced in conjunction with each other) are somewhat associated with each other. 

Today, the twelfth blessing of the Amidah is known as Bircat haMinim, but this does not necessarily mean that it was always known by this designation. The Geniza fragment refers to Notzrin/Natzrim and Minim, and it is most likely that this blessing was originally called the blessing of ‘haNatzrim vehaMinim’ in its earlier formulations. Minim (Heretics) is sometimes just a synonym for Natzrim (Nazoraeans“[s]ince one of the major sects behind the term [M]inin is Jewish Christianity” (Kimelman 1981:241). 

Epiphanius (d. 403)

Turning to a fourth-century Patristic[8] source to corroborate the historical association between Birkat haMinim and Natzrim (Nazoraeans), the early Christian writer and Bishop, Epiphanius, writes about the Natzrim as follows: 

“[T]hey are…Jews and nothing else. However, they are very much hated by the Jews…[who] stand up in the morning, at noon and in the evening, three times a day and pronounce curses and maledictions over them…in their synagogues” (Epiphanius, Panarion: Translated by Klijn and Reinink, 1973, Patristic Evidence for Jewish-Christian Sects, 173f). 

Epiphanius is the first Christian source to mention the curses of the Jews, and he clearly does not suggest that the Jews are cursing Christians. Rather, they are cursing their own Jewish sect, the Natzrim (Nazoreans). 

Jerome (d. 420)

Another fourth-century Christian writer, Jerome, similarly refers (on four occasions!) to a sect of Jewish-Christians called Natzrim (Nazoraeans), and they are also called Minaeans (probably a reference to Minim). In one of his letters to Augustine, Jerome writes about Natzrim (Nazoraeans): 

“[a] heresy is to be found in all parts of the East where Jews have their synagogues; it is called ‘of the Minaeans’ and cursed by the Pharisees [who were later identified as the rabbis] up to now. Usually they are named Nazoraeans…but since they want to be both Jews and Christians, they are neither Jews nor Christians” (Jerome, Letter to Augustine: Translated by Klijn and Reinink, 1973, Patristic Evidence for Jewish-Christian Sects, 201). 

Interestingly, according to Epiphanius, these Natzrim (Nazoraeans) are “Jews and nothing else,” but according to Jerome, “They are neither Jews nor Christians.” Nevertheless, these Natzrim (Nazoraeans) are described as the target of the curses. 

Rabbinic sources on Natzrim (Nazoraeans)

1) There are two Talmudic references to Natzrim (Nazoraeans). The first is a reference to:

כְּפַר סְכַנְיָא שֶׁל מִצְרַיִם

“Kefar Sechanya of Egypt (Mitzraim)” (b. Gitin 57a). 

The problem is that there is no Kefar Sechanya in Egypt. There is, however, a Kefar Sachnin (כפר סחנין, סַחְ'נִין, סִכְנִין) in Galilee, twenty kilometres from Acre, which was known to be inhabited by Minim (Heretics) = Natzrim (Nazoraeans). In this case, it seems that the original intent of the Talmud was that Kefar Sachnin (Sechanya) was a placenot in Egypt (Mitzraim)but in Galilee, inhabited primarily by Natzrim (Nazoraeans). The 'ya' or 'ia' (Sechanya or Sechania) in Aramaic is often pronounced as 'in' in Arabic (perhaps similar to Tzaffūriya becomes Tzippori).

Kimelman argues that in this apparently corrupted text, besides Sechanya being better read as Sachnin, the word Mitzraim can also be read as Natzrim. Sometimes the Hebrew letters ‘mem’ and ‘nun’ are confused or interchangeable. 

The ‘men’ and ‘nun’ are nasal consonants, and blur in common speech. This is often reflected in early scribal tradition. For example, שטן (Satan) is sometimes rendered as שטם (Satam), לבן (lavan) as לבם (lavam), and צאן (tzon) as צאם (tzom). Before the Masoretic text standardised spelling, such fluidity was common in Hebrew and Aramaic manuscripts. In a similar vein, the words Mitzraim (צריםמ) and Natzrim (צריםנ) are identical, except for their first letters, ‘mem’ and ‘nun.’ 

This reading of the Talmudic text also makes more sense from a literary perspective, because if it were referring to a place name in Egypt, it would have stated ‘in’ Egypt (מצריםב), rather than ‘of’ Egypt (מצרים של). Once we change Mitzraim to Natzrim, substitute Sachnin for the non-existent Sechanya, the previously corrupted sentence now reads Sachnin as being full ‘ofNatzrim (Nazoraeans and heretics), instead of Sechanya being ‘inEgypt, which it is not. 

2) The second Talmudic source that references Natzrim (Nazoraeans) is a pericope dealing with fasting during Temple times (i.e., before 70 CE). The Cohanim (Priests) would fast for the Temple sacrifices to be accepted. The non-priests would also fast on particular days to seek favour for important issues that affected them at that time. For example, on Mondays they would fast for seafarers, on Wednesdays they would fast for babies suffering from croup, on Tuesdays for travellers in the desert, on  Thursdays for the well-being of pregnant women, but on Fridays they would not fast out of deference to Shabbat. On Sundays, they did not fast either: 

בְּאֶחָד בְּשַׁבָּת מַאי טַעְמָא לָא? אָמַר רַבִּי יוֹחָנָן: מִפְּנֵי הַנּוֹצְרִים

“Why did they not fast on Sundays? R. Yochanan say: because of the Christians” (b. Taanit 27b). 

Historically, this reference to ‘Christians” seems most unlikely. It is more feasible that Natzrim (Nazoraeans) is intended, because, as noted earlier, a single-stroke letter is often prone to error. The Temple was destroyed around 70 CE, and: 

“there is no evidence that Sunday was the Christian ‘Sabbath’ in Palestine before the destruction of the Second Temple in the year 70” (Kimelman 1981:242). 

R. Yochanan lived (albeit in Palestine) quite some time later, during the third century, and it seems he may have reflected his own reality back into earlier Temple Times. During R. Yochanan’s lifetime, Christianity would have had some time to diffuse among the various populations in the area. We also know that by that time, there was a community of Jewish-Christians, and they observed the Sabbath on both Saturdays and Sundays. R. Yochanan would have been aware of these Jewish-Christian communities, identified as Natzrin (Nazoraeans), especially since they “populated areas not far from R. Johanan’s home-town of Tiberius” (Kimelman 1981:242). 

Furthermore, it is most feasible that he gave the reason why the non-priests don’t fast on Sundays as “because of the Christiansor as we have argued, the Jewish-Christians, Natzrim (Nazoraeans)because these Jewish-Christians did indeed fast on Sundays! On this reading, the Talmudic periscope is more consistent with historical evidence, and we additionally have an explanation for R. Yochanan’s ruling: he did not want Jews to replicate the practices of the Natzrim (Nazoraeans) by fasting on Sundays! 

Are Mimim (Heretics) and Natzrim (Nazoraeans) still Jewish?

Natzrim (Nazoraeans) and Minim (Heretics) were considered dissidents of some form, although still Jewish. 

This is borne out by the Tosefta (Bava Metzia:2.31 and b. Avodah Zara 26a, according to the Spanish manuscript), where Minim (Heretics), apostates (people who convert to another religion) and informers (המינין, והמשומדין, והמסורות) are categorised as still being Jewish. 

Furthermore, the same R. Yochanan referenced above uses the term Minim (Heretics) for Jewish schismatics (those who break away from the mainstream): 

“Israel did not go into exile until it had split into twenty-four sects of Minim (Heretics)” (y. Sanhedrin 29c). 

The implication is that although R. Yochanan maintains that they brought about the exile, all these sects are still Jewish. 

Conclusion

If this examination and assessment is correct, then the curse embedded in the twelfth blessing of the Amidahdespite the common perception that its target was the Christians (Notzrim)—was instead directed against the Natzrim (Nazoraeans). It was not Jew on Christian, but Jew on Jew. 

Analysis

I have to admit that the Chabad interpretation mentioned earlier, and interpolation in the English translationalthough totally ahistorical and completely anachronistic—resonates well with the modern ear, as it points fingers at no one physical community, be it Jewish, Jewish-Christian or Christian. Instead, it metaphysically targets the universal notion of evil. The Lubavitcher Rebbe reads this prayer as directed against the forces of evil: 

“…pause slightly between the words crush (תמגר) and subdue (תכניע), in consonance with the intent that uproot (תעקר), break (תשבר) and crush (תמגר) refer to the three forms of evil that must be completely eradicated. Subdue (תכניע) refers to kelipat nogah that needs only to be subdued and can be purified” (Hayom Yom, Tevet 26). 

Chassidut describes three forms of evil (Kelipot) that are so negative that they cannot be redeemed or converted to good. These three evils need to be uprooted, broken and crushed entirely. Then there is a category of evil (Kelipat Nogah) that is potentially evil, yet it can also be transformed or subdued into good. The pause, represented by a comma in the Chabad Siddur, differentiates between the two Categories.

Accordingly, the Bircat haMinim, in the Chabad conceptualisation, alludes to a spiritual battle and subjugation of categories of negative spiritual forces, as opposed to physical communities of people. It is a beautiful and universal mystical exegesis and hermeneutic—but still, polemic history remains an inescapable reality and in all probability testifies to the prayer’s original intent.



[1] Kimelman, R., 1981, ‘Birkat Ha-Minim and the Lack of Evidence for an Anti-Christian Jewish Prayer in Late Antiquity’, in Jewish and Christian Self-Definition, Edited by E.P. Sanders, vol. 2, Fortress Press, Philadelphia, 226-244.

[3] According to the Talmud (b. Berachot 28b-29a), it was it was Shmuel haKatan who composed the wording under the directorship of Rabban Gamliel.

[5] Online source: Shoveir Oivim Umachnia Zeidi - Online Siddur with Commentary. Accessed on 5 March 2026.

[6] Langer, R., 2011, Cursing the Christians? A History of the Birkat HaMinim, Oxford University Press, 40.

[7] Marmorstein, A., 1924, ‘The Amidah of the Public Fast Days’, JQR 15, 409-18, 415-17.

[8] The early Christian writers are known Church Fathers. They shaped Christian doctrine and practice between the around the second and eighth centuries CE. Their writings are known as Patristic literature, from the Greek patēr (father = Church Fathers).

I thank Dr Avi Harel for the following sources:

יצחק משה אלבוגן, התפילה בישראל בהתפתחותה ההיסטורית, הוצאת דביר1988

אורי ארליך, תפילת העמידה של ימות החול: נוסחי הסידורים בגניזה הקהירית – שורשיהם ותולדותיהם, הוצאת יד יצחק בן-צבי, ירושלים תשע"ג

הרב עזרא ביק, תפילת שמונה עשרה ויסודות האמונה, הוצאת מגיד, 2014

Sunday, 3 May 2026

551) R. Joseph Ber Soloveitchik’s adaptation of German Volk elements.

R. Yosef Ber Soloveitchik in 1944
Introduction

This articlebased extensively on the research by Professor Daniel Herskowitz[1]examines how certain elements of Germanic Volkish (volk = folk) thought, circulating in interwar Germany, are evident in the writings of R. Yosef Ber Soloveitchik, also known as the Rav (1903-1993). Volkism was a folk, cultural, and ideological movement which began in Germany in the late 19th century. R. Soloveitchik studied cultural themes that also appeared in Volkish and later National Socialist discourse, but R. Soloveitchik’s use was philosophical, not political. To be clear, although R. Soloveitchik adopted Volkish thought, he severely criticised it when it became politicised, adopted and weaponised by the Nazi party in Germany in the 1930s. Nevertheless, Volkism did indeed become the basis of the National Socialist movement in Germany. 

Sunday, 26 April 2026

550) Likutei Halachot: Reinterpreting Halacha as a means to connect with the Tzadik

My copy of Likutei Halachot by R. Natan Sternhartz

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the research by Dr Leore Sachs-Shmueli[1]—examines the nineteenth-century Chassidic work, Likutei Halachot, by R. Natan Sternhartz of Nemirov (1780-1844). R. Natan worked on his manuscript of Likutei Halachot for forty years, from 1806 to two days before his passing in 1844. His autograph (i.e., original) manuscript is housed in the  National Library of Israel. This work by R. Natan, the foremost student of R. Nachman of Breslov (1772-1810), essentially redefines Halachic practice as a mnemonic (memory system) and theurgic (spiritually manipulative) means of connecting with the Tzadik, R. Nachman of Breslov (or more accurately Bratslav).

Sunday, 19 April 2026

549) From Serafim to Sefirot: The Kedusha and the rise of human participation in the cosmic drama

The Kedusha in a 1745 Siddur according to the custom of the Arizal

Introduction

This articledrawing extensively on the research by Dr Leore Sachs-Shmueli—examines a fundamental shift in the mystical interpretation of the Kedusha, recited during the communal repetition of the Amidah (standing prayer). The Kedusha, with its liturgy dating to the fifth century CE (Fleischer 1998:305), was understood in early Jewish mysticism—particularly the Heichalot and Merkavah literature beginning from around the second century CE—as an opportunity for earthly worshippers to imitate and mimic the prayers of the heavenly angels who united heaven and earth through their recital of the Kedusha. In this ancient framework, human prayer was conceived as an echo of the primary celestial liturgy. However, with the emergence of the Zoharic corpus in the late thirteenth century (the Zohar first circulated around 1290), a significant theological shift took place. The angels, who were once conceptualised as being central to the Kedusha, were now relegated to the margins, while humanity assumed the pivotal role in a cosmic drama that sought to unite heaven and earth. 

Sunday, 29 March 2026

 

548) Early Mussar: Demonic threat management and displacement of the Divine

Yiddish translation of Kav haYashar

Introduction

In a previous article, we delved into the possibility of Sabbatian connections to, if not outright authorship of an early Mussar (ethical) text, the  Kav haYashar [see: Kotzk Blog: 303) MYSTICAL YIDDISH TEXTS AS A CONDUIT FOR CHASSIDIC THOUGHT:]. This article—drawing extensively on the research by Professor Isaac Hershkowitz—explores a different dimension of the Kav haYashar with its striking emphasis on angelology and demonology. These themes are not incidental but central to the work, to the point where they appear to eclipse God in the text’s pursuit and development of religious-ethical development (Mussar). In early Mussar, such as Kav haYashar, ethical conduct is shaped more by obedience to a cosmic system of angels and demons. In this scheme, God is to a notable degree marginalised—eclipsed, displaced, if not altogether absent—from the process of moral perfection. Likewise, the individual’s own self-effort is detached from the work of ethical refinement. Instead, early Mussar emphasises the conceptual struggle of enlisting good angels and combating demonic forces as the primary path toward moral righteousness.