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

 

Kefar Sachnin in Galilee

Introduction:

This article—based 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 prayer—which 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 group—set aside in Jewish public prayer for a curse and exclusion—was 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 10^th 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), which—whatever 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. 

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. 

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). 

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 place—not in Egypt (Mitzraim)—but in Galilee, inhabited primarily by Natzrim (Nazoraeans). 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 ‘of’ Natzrim (Nazoraeans and heretics), instead of Sechanya being ‘in’ Egypt, 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 Christians”—or 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 Amidah—despite 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 translation—although 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.

[2] Online source: Siddur Ashkenaz, Weekday, Shacharit, Amidah, Against Enemies 1 | Sefaria Library. Accessed on 5 March 2026.

[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.

[4] Siddur Ashkenaz, Weekday, Shacharit, Amidah, Against Enemies | Sefaria Library.

[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

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

R. Yosef Ber Soloveitchik in 1944

Introduction

This article—based 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. 

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).

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).

Part II

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

Part I

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.