536) ‘Halachic Fiction’ and ex post facto justification in the modern Halachic process

Introduction

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.   

Background

Moshe Halbertal explains the idea of a “community’s ritual instinct”: 

“The community creates…norms organically, without negotiation with a rabbinical authority, and, sometimes, on the basis of advice received from educated dilettantes [non-scholarly dabblers or amateurs] who have not attained the status to rule authoritatively on legal questions. After the norms have become rooted, halakhic authorities examine them in light of legal sources. Sometimes they consent to the norms ex post facto; sometimes they reject them; and sometimes they reinterpret the halakhic sources to make them fit the norms that have been created” (Halbertal 2002:166). 

Importantly, these types of popular community practices are either a) accepted as they are as Halachically permissible, b) rejected, or c) creatively reconciled to Halacha by the posek (Halachic decisor, or legal authority). This means that even in the era when the codified law of the Shulchan Aruch is widely available, it is regularly overridden and reshaped by communal pressure. Significantly, these communal practices are often retroactively reconciled and justified by the posek, employing what Shapiro terms ‘Halachic fictions.’ 

Halachic and legal fictions

A Legal fiction— in the secular legal sense—is defined as “an assertion accepted as true, though probably fictitious, to achieve a particular goal in a legal matter” (www.lexico.com/en/definition/legal_fiction). So, for example, a ‘corporation’ is considered to be like a ‘person,’ owning property, entering into contracts and suing. Yet we know a corporation is not a person. Shapiro maintains that a secular legal fiction is not different from a Halachic fiction: like selling Chametz before Pesach (despite the sale being legally binding by secular law), because the seller intends to reclaim it afterwards. Likewise, a Prozbul is the legal workaround created by Hillel the Elder to prevent debt cancellation during the Sabbatical year, ensuring economic stability. An Eruv—the symbolic merging of private and public domains—allows objects to be carried and transferred on Shabbat. There is often a fine line between the legitimate Halachic process involving formal legal argumentation for and agaist a matter—based on solid Halachic precedent—and Halachic fiction, which is an ex post facto justification on an issue that has fallen into neglect. Halachic fictions raises some serious issues because in many instances: 

“we are confronted by nothing less than a de facto abolishment of explicit Talmudic halakhot, although for understandable reasons the halakhist never uses such language. From his perspective, the halakhist must portray any changes in halakhic practice as having been inherent in the system all along” (Shapiro 2022:26). 

In other words, the use of Halachic fiction is not something that is going to be readily acknowledged or admitted by the  Halachic posek. Let us now turn to some examples of how laws are allowed to change over time: 

Women wearing veils

A modern posek, R. Shalom Messas (1913-2003), acknowledged that it is often the people—not the rabbis—that inform the law. A case in point is Maimonides, who requires Jewish women to wear veils: 

וְאֵלּוּ הֵן הַדְּבָרִים שֶׁאִם עָשְׂתָה אַחַת מֵהֶן עָבְרָה עַל דָּת יְהוּדִית. יוֹצְאָה לַשּׁוּק אוֹ לְמָבוֹי מְפֻלָּשׁ וְרֹאשָׁהּ פָּרוּעַ וְאֵין עָלֶיהָ רְדִיד כְּכָל הַנָּשִׁים. אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁשְּׂעָרָהּ מְכֻסֶּה בְּמִטְפַּחַת

“When a woman performs any of the following acts, she is considered to have violated the Jewish faith: a) she goes to the marketplace or a lane with openings at both ends without having her head [fully] covered - i.e., her hair is covered by a handkerchief, but not with a veil like all other women” (Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Ishut 24:12). 

Maimonides lived in Muslim lands, and this may—or may not—have had a bearing on such rulings. Either way, in his Mishneh Torah, he codifies these laws as binding upon all Jews. Yet, we know that today, the law requiring women to wear veils has been abandoned. R. Messas, however, acknowledges that this law only changed due to the pressure from the community and not the rabbis. Messas presents the pragmatic dynamics of Halachic decision‑making in a way that few Halachists are willing to concede: 

“[T]hey [the people] are the ones who abolish the practice little by little. At first, the rabbis of the time scream at them, but they [the people] do not pay attention, and little by little it is abolished. [Regarding the permissibility of wearing a sheitel instead of a veil] it turns out that the ones who establish the custom are the people, they are the ones who begin to enact change...”

נמצא שמי שקובע המנהג הם המון העם שהם המתחילים לשנות

 (Messas, Shemesh uMagen, 1986:2:249). 

The rabbis usually prefer to frame change as rooted—not in the people—but in textual exegesis or legal reasoning. R. Messas, however, exposes the mechanics that often result in Halachic change, and it's not the rabbis who abolish the law, but the people who simply stop observing it. 

“Yet often this [rabbinic] approval was only ex post facto when there was nothing the rabbis could do, and instead of ‘approval’ a better word would be ‘toleration’… [The Halachic decision-making process in] the post-Shulhan Arukh era…has not been systematically studied…[W]e still await a detailed examination of how Jewish law has developed and been adapted and ‘updated’ in recent centuries” (Shapiro 2022:27). 

Shapiro’s bold confrontation with the reality of Halachic fiction may indeed be the pioneering step in this area of research. 

Mezuzahs were not always as common as they are now

Today, most Jewish homes probably have at least one Mezuzah. But it wasn’t always like this. During Medieval times, Mezuzot were not common in Ashkenaz (Northern France and Germany): 

“In what appears to be an example of halakhic fiction, R. Peretz (d. circa 1295) claims that people did not put up mezuzot because they relied on a supposed rabbinic statement [apparently in Talmud Yerushalmi] that a city that has pigs in it does not require mezuzot” (Shapiro 2022:28, n.15). 

More than a century later, during the time of R. Yakov Moelin, known as Maharil (d. 1427), attitudes changed, and Mezuzah observance became slightly more popular, with some affixing Mezuzot, although not necessarily to all the doors of their homes (She’elot uTeshuvot Maharil, no. 94). 

At that very time, R. Yisrael Isserlein (d.1460) writes from Austria that the vast majority (רובא דרובא דעלמא) of Austrian Jews—including Torah scholars—do not observe the custom of Mezuzah on all their doors (Terumat haDeshen: She’elot uTeshuvot, no. 106. 

The author of the Ashkenazi version of Shulchan Aruch, R. Moshe Isserless (Ramah, d. 1572), writing in Kraków, Poland, notes (regretfully) that the general practice was only to have one Mezuzah at the entrance of the home (רוב העולם סומכין על מזוזה אחת) (Yoreh Deah 287:2). There was also widespread neglect of Tefillin during Medieval times [see: Kotzk Blog: 437) The historical neglect of Tefilin]. 

The neglect of such important precepts prompted one Tossafist, R. Yehudah ben Yitzchak Messer Leon of Paris, to ask, “On what do they rely?” (She’elot uTeshuvot Maharik, no. 174). In other words, he seems to have intrinsically assumed that they obviously relied on some rabbinic dispensation. It was just that he was simply unaware of the Halachic chapter and verse. He could not imagine that Jews would simply abandon a mitzvah without rabbinic sanction. This ties in with the hypothesis that sometimes rabbis retroactively (and reluctantly) create Halachic explanations—even fictions— transforming what looks like neglect into something that can be framed within the law: 

“[I]t is often the behavior of the community that will determine what is correct for Judaism” (Shapiro 2022:29). 

This way, even the neglect of something as important as Mezuzot on all the doors of a house can be turned into a custom only observed in certain geographical areas. Another example may be the religious Jews of Germany, who historically did not wear yarmulkas. 

Yet the rabbis were generally reluctant to admit that established customs based on simple neglect did exist in Judaism. This reluctance is well-attested to in rabbinic literature throughout the ages, where a very different position is taken: 

דמה שהמנהג מוסכם אצל כלל ישראל הוא ע״פ רוח הקודש

“The fact that a custom is common among Jews is [not an accident, but] through a spirit of holiness” (R. Eliyahu Ragoler, Yad Eliyahu, Pesakim, no. 25). 

In another example, this time from the Chida (d. 1806), we see: 

שכל דבר שהוא מורגל בצבור ראוי לסמוך עליו כאילו הם דברי נביא

“Everything that the community is accustomed to, may be relied upon, as if they were words from a prophet” (R. Benyamin Espinoza, cited in R. Chaim Yosef David Azulai, Yosef Ometz, no. 10). 

What this amounts to is that: 

“[A] practice of the religious community often has a presumption of correctness and authoritativeness, even if it appears to be in opposition to accepted halakhah” (Shapiro 2022:29). 

R. Haym Soloveitchik similarly observed: 

“Once the existing becomes identified with the appropriate (as it does in any vibrant traditional society), this identity can easily spill over and legitimize practices that fall beyond the halakhic perimeter” (Haym Soloveitchik, 2013:1:255). 

How can Halacha change if it is unchangeable?

The big question is how can Halacha change—in both directions: including the institution of new laws, and the abolishment of old ones—if it is immutable? 

Conservative guardians of the Halachic tradition, such as R. David Bleich, declare “Jewish law does not change.” But, historically, it is very easy to document numerous and significant changes to Jewish law over time: 

“[W]hile Bleich’s approach might make good dogma, it is bad history” (Shapiro 2022:30). 

Still, many rabbis remain uncompromisingly adamant in denying that any Halachic changes have ever occurred. This, especially in light of the publication of the Shulchan Aruch of R. Yosef Karo in the sixteenth century. Shapiro (2022:34), however, documents several blatant examples of changes and departures from the supposedly immutable and binding Shulchan Aruch: 

Halachic divergences from the Shulchan Aruch

1) According to the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 25:11), immediately after putting on the hand Tefillin—but before winding the strap around the arm—the head Tefillin is to be donned. This is apparently a universal custom because even the Ramah does not object to this. Yet the general practice followed by both Ashkenazim and Sefaradim today is to continue binding the strap on the arm—up to the wrist—and only then, to don the head Tefillin. Although this widespread custom accords with the mystical teachings of R. Yitzchak Luria, the Arizal, it nevertheless stands in conflict with the normative rulings of the Shulchan Aruch. 

2) According to the Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 101:2), the Shemona Esrei, or Amidah, must be said loud enough for the person praying to hear themselves, but not so loud that others nearby are disturbed. Yet there are communities today that generally recite the Amidah silently, moving lips but without audible sound. This, too, follows the custom of the Kabbalists. 

3) According to the Shulchan Aruch (Yoreh Deah 340:5), all those who happen to be present when another person passes away must tear their clothing (Keriah), not just the immediate relatives. This ruling is not disputed by the Ramah, so it remains universal and authoritative. Yet the practice today is that only the immediate family perform the Keriah. In fact, the custom in Morocco and Baghdad was that women never performed Keriah at all. 

4) According to the Shulchan Aruch (Even haEzer 1:3), if a man was not married by the age of twenty (and he is not studying Torah full time), the Beit Din can force him to get married. It seems, however, that this ruling of the Shulchan Aruch has never been applied.  

5) A Halachic dispute exists regarding Shabbat times: Rabbeinu Tam maintains that both its commencement and conclusion occur later than the view of the Gaonim. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 261:2) rules according to Rabbeinu Tam, with a later time stipulated for the onset and departure of Shabbat. However, our contemporary practice is not in accordance with the Shulchan Aruch but sides, instead, with the view of the Gaonim. We thus assume the earlier times for both the beginning and ending of Shabbat (and this was endorsed by both R. Shneur Zalman of Liadi and the Vilna Gaon). This means that: 

“We are in the strange situation that as far as one of the most fundamental issues of Halachah is concerned, the onset of the Sabbath, universal Jewish practice today is contrary to the explicit ruling of the Shulhan Aruch. We also know that universal practice today is contrary to the common practice in Eastern Europe in the last [nineteenth] century… [Accordingly] most people perform melakha [prohibited work] on Motza’ei Shabbat at a time when, according to most Rishonim and the Shulchan Arukh, doing so constitutes a Shabbat violation, punishable with [the biblical penalty of] sekila (stoning)” (Shlomo Sternberg, cited in Shapiro 2022:35). 

These examples (and there are many more) reinforce the notion that: 

“the Shulhan Arukh has never been regarded as an absolute binding code…  Some of these ‘violations’ remain quite widespread and most people are completely oblivious to the matter” (Shapiro 2022:37). 

Understanding ‘traditional’ societies

Haym Soloveitchik, as mentioned, offers a compelling interpretation of some of these deviations and innovations in Jewish law, viewing them not as uniquely Jewish phenomena but as natural consequences inherent to all traditional societies: 

“Anyone who imagines that the rich and variegated corpus of religious practice is laid out on a Procrustean bed [Procrustes was a bandit who forced travelers to fit into his iron bed—stretching them if they were too short, or cutting off their limbs if they were too tall—reprersenting the imposition a set of rigid, one-size-fits-all standards, universally and unnaturally -GM] of canonized texts, and all the numerous protuberances lopped off, has little knowledge of how a traditional society functions. Such a view also underestimates the creativity of religious communities, even the most norm-oriented ones. . . . There is no such thing as perfect compliance…and halakhists are only too well aware of this… [L]egitimacy comes with age [and practice and acceptance by the people over time] in a traditional society (Soloveitchik 2013:2:56). 

Someone who well-understood this idea of traditional societies even before Soloveitchik was R. Shlomo Kluger (d.1869). There used to be a custom for brides to light candles and recite a certain blessing just before they got married. Kluger knew that the practice was nonsense, but instead of forbidding it—even though it entailed a blessing formulation which is taken very seriously in Halacha—he suggested it continue, as it could be understood as chinuch for when they light Shabbat candles (like a teacher who instructs children in blessings). This relates to what Shapiro terms “Halachic fiction.” 

Halachic fiction

Halachic fiction is where poskim (Halachic decisors) try: 

“to find some, indeed any, justification for what is clearly a violation of the codified halakhah…[illustrating] how the living law is brought into line with the book law. When the community refuses to accept the book law, the halakhists are often led to revise the book law so that there is a new halakhic standard.” (Shapiro 2022:38). 

An earlier rabbi who employed the mechanics of Halachic fiction was R. Yom Tov Lipman Heller (d. 1654), known for his Tosefot Yom Tov commentary on the Mishna. In a case where people were showing disregard for a book law, he claimed that the ‘olam’ (the Jewish world) had always relied on certain interpretative leniencies to justify their (now questionable) deeds. Realistically and historically, however, the ‘olam’ did not always follow the rabbis: 

“In fact, the reality was the exact reverse scenario. The [‘olam’ or] ‘world’ did what it wanted to do, and it is the halakhist who for religious and sociological reasons must create the halakhic fiction…” (Shapiro 2022:41). 

Another illustration of the generous assumptions surrounding this elusive but authoritative-sounding term ‘olam’—perhaps best understood as a constructed Jewish ‘olam’ invoked to justify Halachic outcomes—appears in the writings of R. Menashe Klein (d. 2011). Klein explains that this ‘olam,’ at times, overlooks certain Halachic requirements, such as the prohibition against lending money without witnesses. He suggests that such practices rest upon reliance on a general Talmudic dispensation— that leniencies can be used to make it easier for people to borrow money—and not on basic human negligence! This is another example of a Halachik fiction. Klein uses it deliberately to turn aside from the technical requirement to look for witnesses every time someone needs to borrow money. This burdensome practice was, in any case, already in neglect. Shapiro notes that the ‘olam’ were not deferring to Talmudic tomes every time they needed to borrow money. Instead: 

“the masses do what they like, and it is halakhists such as Klein who justify these deviations ex post facto” (Shapiro 2022:44). 

Halacha: by the people and for the people

From a Halachic perspective, the widespread and common Jewish practices within the traditional community, and even their deviances, must—as far as possible—be defensible: 

“People did what came naturally to them, but the halakhist, following a well-established process of attempting to justify the practices of the religious masses when they appear to be in violation of halakhah, often felt forced to find some justification, no matter how flimsy” (Shapiro 2022:42). 

Shapiro conceptualises this Halachic process as a pragmatic mechanism, developed in response to the exigencies of a less-than-ideal societal framework where: 

“the halakhist cannot just throw up his hands and announce that an anti-halakhic practice is to be accepted because that is what the people are accustomed to do. Rather, his job is to provide the halakhic legitimacy, so that what appears to be a divergence from Jewish law is in fact not so” (Shapiro 2022:42). 

Soloveitchik, however, (perhaps in slight tension with Shapiro?) has no issues with this process at all and describes the practice of ex post facto justification as perfectly legitimate: 

“This is what religiously responsible people do, and there is no reason for them not to continue doing so” (Soloveitchik 2013:2:59). 

It seems that this view is followed by some of the more modern Halachists like R. Yechiel Michel Epstein (d.1908), author of Aruch haShulchan. He generally attempts to synthesise common practice and book law, because he sees “the practice of the people as an expression of halakhic truth” (Soloveitchik 1994:67). 

Analysis

A Halachic fiction is a legal device that allows Halacha to adapt without formally changing its principles. It creates a framework where the law appears consistent, but in practice, it accommodates real-world needs. It bridges the gap between theoretical and rigid Halacha and practical life situations, which are complex and evolving. A Halachic fiction is technically artificial but legally valid. 

The abundant practical and historical examples of Halachic fiction directly challenge the categorical claims of hardline traditionalists who insist that Halacha is immutable and never changes. In contrast, academic traditionalists recognise both the reality and the historicity of such adaptations, acknowledging that Halacha has, in fact, evolved through carefully constructed mechanisms and justifications that preserve its authority while responding to lived experience. Halachic fiction illuminates how Jewish law— particularly in the post-Shulchan Aruch era—creatively negotiates between eternal law and everyday realities while portraying the resultant changes as “having been inherent in the system all along” (Shapiro 2022:26).

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Bibliography

Halbertal, M., 2002, ‘Halakhah, Orthodoxy, and History’, in The Pride of Jacob: Essays on Jacob Katz and His Work, Edited by Jay M. Harris, Harvard Center for Jewish Studies, Cambridge.

Shapiro, M., 2022, ‘“Halakhic Fiction” and Minhag Mevatel Halakha, with a Focus on the Post-Shulhan Arukh Era’, in Jewish Law Association Studies, no. 30, 25-60.

Soloveitchik, H., 1994, ‘Rupture and Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy’, Tradition, vol. 28, no.4, 64-130.

Soloveitchik, H., 2013, Collected Essays, Littman Library, Oxford. 

535) Suspending Judaism between depth and accessibility: Maimonides and Yeshaya of Trani

Piskei haRid and Piskei haRiaz. Rid (grandfather) and Riaz (grandson) published together in one volume, although their worldviews were very different.

Introduction

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. 

534) Between Law and Magic: The Mezuzah as a test case in shifting cosmologies

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. 

533) The Seven Laws of Noah: Then and now

 

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]. 

532) Dialogues of vision: How we view Maimonides and how he might view us (Part II)

 

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. 

531) Dialogues of Vision: How we view Maimonides and how he might view us (Part I)

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. 

530) Early textual layering in Zohar and Bahir as clues to their dating

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. 

529) Avraham Ibn Daud: Maimonides’ unspoken mentor?

14th century copy of Avraham Ibn Daud's Sefer haKabbalah

Introduction

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. 

528) Rationalism, Mysticism and Binitarianism

Introduction

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. 

527) Neoplatonic echoes in Chassidic Mysticism

 

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. 

526) Are There Controls and Limits to the Creativity of Minhagim?

This post, by Boruch Clinton, originally appeared on the B'chol D'rachecha site.

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.)

525) Tashlich, water and 'bribing' demons

Introduction

Although the Jewish world after Maimonides (1138–1205) gradually embraced a mystical ethos—particularly following the publication of the Zohar some eighty years after his death—his followers remained wary of the burgeoning mystical practices that took root within Judaism, often approaching them with scepticism, if not outright rejection. Drawing on rationalist principles and a commitment to biblical authenticity, Maimonides challenged many mystical rituals, which he saw as later additions rooted in superstition or non-Jewish origins. His opposition reflects a broader philosophical stance: that religious expression should be grounded in reason, ethical clarity, and Torah-based tradition. This article—based extensively on the research by Rabbi Dr Israel Drazin[1]—examines the Tashlich ceremony and attempts to understand Tashlich within the broader context of medieval Jewish thought and its Maimonidean/rationalist reinterpretation. 

524) Editing Jewish texts: Between reverence and revision

 

Shem haGedolim by R. Chaim David Azulai, known as the Chida (1724-1806).

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Dr Oded Cohen[1]—examines the challenges facing editors of religious Jewish texts. It deals with two very different editors and separated by six hundred years, yet who faced similar tasks and scrutiny. 

The first editor is the Maskil of the Enlightenment movement, Isaac Benjacob (1801-1863), who edited the Shem haGedolim of the R. Chaim David Azulai, known as the Chida (1724-1806). 

The second is Maimonides, who—though not an editor of the Babylonian Talmud in the conventional sense—systematically distilled its legal rulings into his Mishneh Torah, the ground-breaking code that stripped away dialectical debate in favour of a clear, authoritative Halachic structure. 

523) Radical rabbinic models of universalism

Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz 1937-2020

Introduction

This article traces the thought of four rabbinic figures—spanning from the sixteenth century to the modern writings of R. Adin Steinsaltz—who identify and exemplify a strikingly universalist approach within Jewish tradition. It highlights how these thinkers engaged with non-Jewish doctrines, religions, and ideologies not with hostility or indifference, but with a rare openness that challenges conventional boundaries of theological discourse. 

1) R. Natan Nata Shapira (1585-1633)

R. Natan Shapira of Kraków, also known as the Megaleh Amukot (Revealer of Secrets), was a student of Lurianic Kabbalah from the school of R. Yisrael Sarug and was responsible for the dissemination of the teaching of the Ari Zal.  He saw the need to extract good from the non-Jewish world as a necessary precursor to the messianic age. 

“[R. Natan Nata Shapira] clarified the mission of Judaism, in light of kabbalistic historiography, as one that aims to gather up the holy sparks scattered among gentiles in order to bring redemption nearer” (Rachel Elior in Yivo Encyclopedia). 

522) Italian letters: The battle over the Zohar

An 1847 letter by Shmuel David Luzatto, to the scholar Meir Halevi Letteris.

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Daniel A. Klein[1]—examines the little-known polemic over Kabbalah between two great Italian rabbis of the nineteenth century. These rabbis were R. Shmuel David Luzzatto (known as Shadal, 1800-1865), a great-grandnephew of the famed R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (Ramchal), and R. Elia Benamozegh (1823-1900), the rabbi of Livorno (Leghorn). The two collided in written correspondence—not over Halachah, but over the soul of Judaism itself. Both were outspoken defenders of traditional Judaism, yet each understood its essence in profoundly different ways. 

Shadal emphasised the practical, ethical and rational core of Judaism, rejecting mystical elements like Kabbalah and particularly the Zohar. His approach was more material than ethereal in the sense of being grounded in practical, historical, linguistic, and moral realism. Benamozegh, on the other hand, was a mystic, a Kabbalist, a man who believed the Zohar was not only authentic, but essential. To this day, the Piazza Benamozegh in Livorno, Tuscany, continues to bear his name—a quiet but enduring tribute to the legacy of a man whose ideas once stirred fierce debate within Italian Jewry. 

521) Confronting or Escaping? -Beyond the "Back of the Wagon of the Baal Shem Tov"

 

[Back of the Wagon | Matisyahu | Afiko.man | Alex Clare | TYH Nation - YouTube].

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Dr Leore Sachs-Shmueli[1]—challenges the common assertion that the Baal Shem Tov’s innovative path was primarily one of experiential and joyful spiritual surrender. Instead, it reveals a far more complex and unnerving spiritual trajectory: one that first plunges deliberately into raw fear, negativity, and darkness in order to extract sparks of holiness from the husks of evil. Only then can the state of ecstatic joy be authentically reached. 

One of the most beautiful and catchy hit songs in contemporary Jewish music must be the “Back of the Wagon of the Baal Shem Tov.” It is symbolic of radical trust and letting go, no matter where the storm takes you, as long as you’re in the back of the wagon of the Baal Shem Tov. Here, one rides with spiritual abandon, music, and a bottle of wine, into the Infinite Light: 

“Where we headed? It doesn’t matter as long as I’m in the back of the wagon with the Besht (Baal Shem Tov)” (Opening lyrics of the song). 

520) 'Creating' sacred sites: Who is buried there, and does it matter?

Alleged tomb of Rav Ashi, on the Israel Lebanon border

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professors Shai Sekunda and Isaac Hershkowitz—examines the historical accuracy of some popular gravesites attributed to biblical figures and great rabbis. Many thousands of fervent worshippers flock to these sites, and the question is: Are the righteous Tzadikim who are claimed to be buried there really buried there, and if not, does it matter? We shall discuss a number of these purported burial sites, including those of Rav Ashi on Mount Shinan, R. Shimon bar Yochai in Meron and the biblical Binyamin in Jerusalem. 

519) When rabbis dared to challenge the Divine: The case of Midrash Tehillim

Midrash Shocher Tov, the first section of Midrash Tehillim (on Psalms 1-118)  produced between the third and eight centuries in Palestine.

 

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professor Dov Weiss[1]— examines the rise and decline of rabbinic protest theology. It looks at the audacious attempts by some Mishnaic rabbis to defy a general ethos of protest prohibition, particularly upheld by the schools of R. Akiva and R. Elazar. By tracing the gradual evolution of rabbinic protest theology through the Talmudic period to its peak in post-Talmudic times, Weiss maps a distinct theological arc that eventually waned and merged into modern times as a subdued tradition.

518) Messianic Immunity—The Perfect Storm: The case of R. Avraham Baruch haRofeh

Responsa by R. Chaim Benveniste, 1743

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professor Abraham Ofir Shemesh[1]—examines an extreme case of messianic immunity. In the sixteenth century, a medical doctor, R. Avraham Baruch haRofeh, under the influence of the Sabbatian messianic movement of Shabbatai Tzvi, felt he could administer harmful drugs to non-Jews in order to kill them. Because he believed he was living in the stirrings of the messianic era, he also believed he could do so with impunity—if not hasten the full awakening of the messianic age as he saw it unfolding before his very eyes. 

While R. Avraham Baruch may have been an extreme case, unfortunately, due to the vicissitudes of a long and oppressive Jewish history, he did have some textual precedent to draw upon. We shall look at some of that precedent, but also show how many of the later rabbis contextualised those earlier rulings and declared that they were no longer applicable.