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 article—drawing 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. 

 

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. 

547) From the Nile to Safed: Egyptian Judeo-Sufism as an influence on Lurianic Kabbalah

 

Cairo Geniza fragment of the writings of  Maimonides' son, Avraham ben haRambam

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on research by Professor Paul Fenton—expands upon the previous discussion of six generations (Fenton 2025-)[1] of Maimonides’ Egyptian descendants who embraced and disseminated a synthesis of Jewish mysticism and Islamic Sufism, known as Judeo-Sufism. This movement, with large numbers of adherents known as Chassidim, followed a mystical path called Derech haChasidut (Fenton 2017:50). Its influence eventually reached Safed, transmitting Judeo-Sufi ideas and practices that arguably informed the Arizal’s sixteenth‑century Lurianic Kabbalah. 

546) Jewish Mystics and Rationalists seeking Islamic Fatwas during the Maimonidean Conflicts

 

Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo

 Introduction

This article seeks to explore how thirteenth-century Jews often sought Fatwas (religious edicts) from Islamic courts to intervene during the intense period of Maimonidean Conflicts. These Conflicts—also known as the Maimonidean Controversies—erupted after Maimonides’ passing in 1204, and were more like Jewish civil wars between the Maimonidean rationalists and the emerging mystics, with the Zohar first published eighty-six years later in 1290, in Christian Spain. The mystical opponents of Maimonides were often backed by Christian authorities such as the Dominicans, Franciscans and even King James I of Aragon [see: Kotzk Blog: 263) THE POLITICS BEHIND THE PIETY - BRINGING THE BATTLE INTO THE SIDDUR:]. 

545) Psychedelics: Cutting-edge science or shamanic ritual?

Homological scaffolds of the brain before and after psilocybin (Petri G., et al. 2014).

Introduction

This article builds on the previous discussion, which explored how psychedelics are increasingly being framed as “cutting-edge science,” embraced by “all the professors”—and, most troubling in my view, promoted as a new expression of Jewish mysticism and experientialism [Kotzk Blog: 544) Acculturating Alcohol and Sanctifying Psychedelics: It’s time to stand up]. While this article departs from the usual style of discourse on this platform, a recent encounter prompted me to dig deeper. After hearing an average, conservative, middle-aged man explain that he was about to embark on an ayahuasca journey because of its “proven scientific value” and its common use among “trusted religious people” in his community, I decided to examine the academic literature on psychedelics more closely. I aimed to assess how solid the claim of a scientific foundation truly is. In the interest of fairness, I have included scholarly arguments both for and against the use of psychedelics. 

544) Acculturating Alcohol and Sanctifying Psychedelics: It’s time to stand up

Introduction

Alcohol and drug abuse have long been perceived as problems external to the Jewish religious community. Currently, however, the rising visibility of alcohol consumption alongside drug and psychedelic practices, is closer to home than we may have imagined. According to psychologist Dan Wolf,^[1] the difficulty lies in the fact that, whereas in the past, a range of methodologies were actively employed to counter alcohol and substance abuse, the prevailing attitude seems to be that quiet and moderate use is perhaps the most reasonable approach. Today, the issue of substances and psychedelics is no longer abstract or distant; it is reshaping the very fabric of our communal life, demanding recognition, response and a solid stance. 

543) Where are the first Chassidic texts?

Zemir Aritzim, published in 1772: Under the directive of the first Rebbe of Chabad, all existing copies of Zemir Aritzim were gathered and burned, leaving only two surviving copies. 

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the groundbreaking research of Dr Elly Moseson[1]—examines the obscure world of early Chassidic manuscripts that circulated well before the first printed, and official Chassidic book, Toledot Yaakov Yosef, in 1780. We explore the nature of the earliest Chassidic handwritten manuscripts, produced in the two decades between the passing of the Baal Shem Tov in 1760 and the publication of the first printed Chassidic book in 1780, before Chassidism became institutionalised. 

542) Zoharic Kabbalah as mystical resistance to Christianity

 Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Hartley Lachter[1]—examines how Medieval Kabbalists constructed a theology of resistance in response to negative Christian portrayals of (particularly) the male Jewish body, as flawed, inferior and weak. In response, the Kabbalists advanced a counter-narrative that framed Jewish bodies as sacred, resilient and transcendent of time. This Kabbalistic interpretation also allowed Jews to see themselves as instrumental in a redemptive history, turning accusations of faithlessness by rejecting Jesus into affirmations of faithfulness to divine mystery. They were no longer inferior, but— through Kabbalah—indeed superior. 

541) Romancing the Manuscript: The politics of knowledge in Chatam Sofer’s rejection of print.

Manuscript fragment of Toledot Yeshu

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Maoz Kahana[1]—examines R. Moshe Schreiber (known as Chatam Sofer, 1762-1839) and his ambivalent stance toward the well-established print culture of Jewish books, which had flourished since its beginnings three centuries earlier in 1475. In place of embracing print as the dominant medium, he issued a striking call for a return to manuscripts. Chatam Sofer is a major rabbinic figure who “carries the aura of a founding figure in the sociological fabric of modern Judaism” (Kahana 2025:300). 

By privileging manuscripts, Chatam Sofer reinforced rabbinic control over textual transmission, resisting the democratisation of knowledge that print enabled. As opposed to mechanical printing, manuscripts circulated in smaller, more controlled circles, limiting exposure to the unorthodox ideas that sometimes sprouted from the Enlightenment movement (Haskalah), which—significantly—used print aggressively to promote its agenda. 

540) Theo-politics of early rabbinic printing and the race for first publication

Levush haOrah by R. Mordechai Jaffe first published in 1603

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Eric Lawee—examines the publication of rabbinic texts during the Late Medieval and Early Modern Periods,^[1] in the aftermath of the invention of the printing press around 1450. It focuses on the printing struggles of R. Mordechai Jaffe (c.1530–1612)—also known as the Levush, or Baal haLevushim—and especially on the personal reflections contained in the epilogue to his Levush haOra. 

The first Hebrew books were printed in Rome around 1470. Rabbinic books (sefarim) were not always selfless, intellectual and spiritual contributions for the edification of the People of Israel. The reality of rabbinic publishing was far more complicated. Publishing was not just about scholarship, but also about authority, the tension between tradition and innovation, and the practical challenges of getting a manuscript into print. It was about survival in a crowded marketplace of ideas, where every published gloss and commentary bore the promise of Chashivut—legitimacy, influence, power and authority—for its author. But behind the finished published product sometimes lay a hidden world of rivalry, negotiation, polemics and politics. 

539) The new Rebbe of Thieves

Resisei Laila given to me by R. Shlomo Carlebach

Introduction

I recently experienced a brief lapse back into my earlier self, when I was totally captivated by the romance of Chassidism, which included a diversion into the magnetism of R. Shlomo Carlebach, his music and teachings. I once asked R. Shlomo what I needed to do to become his Chassid. He smiled and said (typically), “But I want to be a Chassid of you!” I replied, “No, seriously...” He then told me to go to the Mikveh just before Shabbos and to read Resisei Leilah by R. Zadok haCohen. I went to the Mikveh, but I could never find a copy of Resisei Leilah. Years later, someone unexpectedly gave me a small parcel wrapped in brown paper. When I opened it, it was the well-used personal copy of Resisei Leilah that R. Shlomo carried around with him. Apparently, he met someone at the airport, heard they were going to South Africa and gave them his book to give to me. I was overwhelmed and felt like I was living in one of the Chassidic stories he used to tell. Years have passed, times have changed, and my interests and pursuits have moved on, but that little worn blue book remains one of my prized possessions. 

538) Rules for writing a Sefer Torah: Rabbinic innovation or reflection of an existing scribal tradition?

Introduction

This article—drawing extensively on the research of Professor Emanuel Tov, former Editor-in-Chief of the Dead Sea Scrolls Publication Project[1]—examines the rabbinic rules for writing a Sefer Torah. These laws are among the most detailed and revered in rabbinic literature. Every letter, margin, and column is prescribed with precision, creating the impression of a system wholly devised by the rabbis to safeguard the sanctity of the text. Yet the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls has complicated this picture. As Emanuel Tov has shown, many of these rabbinic instructions echo standard and common practices already in use among scribes in the Judean Desert centuries earlier. Thus, what previously may have seemed like a unique rabbinic innovation in scribal law now appears, at least in part, to be the codification of an existing scribal tradition—if not a form of acculturation.[2]