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 (know 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. 

A series of letters in Italian

The debate between these two rabbis played out in a series of letters they exchanged. Their letters are operatic—florid, sarcastic, brutal and respectful at the same time. But beneath the literary flourishes lies a fierce battle for the soul of Judaism: Should it lean toward mysticism or rationalism? Their correspondence is more than a clash of personalities—it’s a dramatic confrontation between two visions of Jewish destiny. It’s a debate that still echoes in contemporary Jewish thought. The only difference is historical context: in Shadal and Benamozegh’s time, mysticism was waning, viewed by many as a relic of medieval obscurantism. Today, however, it is dynamically resurgent. 

It seems that because their correspondence was in Italian, this important debate remained largely overlooked. However, Klein has now translated their letters into English for the first time, allowing for a broader audience to witness the ideological tensions that once animated this remarkable dispute. The Shadal–Benamozegh correspondence offers a revealing window into debates that remain central to contemporary Jewish discourse. 

Shadal

Besides Shadal’s connection to his great-granduncle, R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto, his father, Chezkiah, was also a Kabbalist of note. However, Shadal began to break away from Kabbalah at a young age. When he was thirteen years old, he read the collection of Talmudic stories recorded in the anthology, Ein Yakov. He noticed that although the custom to read publicly from the Torah already existed in Talmudic times, the Torah text did not yet have a definitive system of vowels and vocalisation (nekudot) and accents (te’amim)—or, put simply, dots and tunes. These were only developed in post-Talmudic times, between the sixth and ninth centuries. 

Yet the Zohar—first emerging in 1290 but traditionally said to be authored by the second-century Talmudic sage, R. Shimon bar Yochai—discusses these vowels, vocalisations and accents in detail. This anachronism deeply troubled the young Shadal, marking a pivotal turning point in his theological development. To Shadal, it seemed clear that the Zohar was a forgery. And if the foundational work of Jewish mysticism was a forgery, then—he reasoned—every subsequent mystical system (including the Lurianic Kabbalah of the Ari Zal, and later Chassidut) had no authoritative basis (Shadal, Autobiografia di S. D. Luzzatto, 1878:56-57).[2] 

It is important to point out that Shadal conceded that a form of esoteric mysticism was practised in Talmudic times, but he firmly maintained that it bore no connection to Zoharic mysticism, which he viewed as a later and inauthentic development. In other words, according to Shadal, the genuine Jewish mystical chain had been lost. 

Shadal’s Vikuach al Chachmat haKabbalah

In 1826, Shadal wrote his polemic on the Zohar, titled Vikuach al Chachmat haKabbalah. This work was produced many years before the correspondence between him and Benamozegh. He structured his Vikuach as a series of imagined conversations between two scholars meeting during a late-night Hoshana Rabbah study session. One character supported the authenticity of the Zohar, while his interlocutor (representing Shadal himself) disputed him with historical and textual critiques. 

Shadal claimed that the Zoharic concept of Sefirot (mystical spheres or emanations)— although mentioned in earlier literature—was a radical mystical innovation and reinterpretation of the spiritual cosmos by the Zohar. This transformed them into central pillars of a mystical theology that he believed distorted authentic Jewish belief. 

He later reiterated his observation that he had first made at age thirteen, that the vocalisation of the Torah—only introduced in post-Talmudic times—was just a practical means of preserving and standardising the biblical text, and carried no deeper layers of mystical interpretation, contrary to the claims of the Zohar. In essence, Shadal was advancing a larger worldview that Zoharic Kabbalah posed a threat to authentic Jewish faith. 

Shadal was acutely aware that his book would be contentions. He feared that its publication might unsettle the simple faith of the pious. For this reason, he withheld it from publication for over two decades, only releasing it in 1852 when he had become convinced that the dangers posed by the mystic cult of Kabbalah outweighed its supposed spiritual value. In his view, Kabbalah was not just wrong—it was corrosive. 

Benamozegh responds with his Taam leShad

Ten years later, in 1862, Benamozegh responded to Shadal’s Vikuach al Chachmat haKabbalah, with his Taam leShad, a 223-page defence of Kabbalah. The book’s title was based on a biblical verse referring to the manna: “וְהָיָ֣ה טַעְמ֔וֹ כְּטַ֖עַם לְשַׁ֥ד הַשָּֽׁמֶן, it tasted like cream of oil” (Numbers 11:8). This was an intentional play on words meant to read ‘Reasoning [Taam] in response to S. D. [Shad: Shmuel David (Luzzatto)].’ Benamozegh’s book was similarly written in the form of two immagined interlocutors debating the Zohar, mimicking the writing style of Shadal. 

Benamozegh was no stranger to authoring works attacking those who attacked Kabbalah. He had previously written his Emek Mafgia (Valley of Encounter) in 1845, which was his refutation of the anti-Kabbalistic work, Ari Nohem (The Roaring Lion) by R. Leon of Modena.[3] The Ari Nohem was written in 1639, but due to its controversial and disruptive nature in an era dominated by Kabbalistic thought, it remained in manuscript form for just over two centuries, until it was eventually printed for the first time in 1840. 

Ironically, Benamozegh, the great defender of mysticism, underwent a period of doubt when he rejected mysticism, only to return to it later with renewed conviction: 

“[A]fter having loved the Kabbalistic books as a young man, I too began to speak ill of them seeing that everyone was doing so” (Benamozegh, 1863, Lettere, 52-56).[4] 

Later, however, he changed his position as he began to view Kabbalah as indispensable to the very theological foundation of Judaism. 

In his Emek Mafgia against R. Leon of Modena, Benamozegh argued that the Zohar in no way contradicts anything in the Talmud and is perfectly aligned with it. This indicates its contextual authenticity as an ancient work, despite the fact that it remained silent for a thousand years—during the entire Talmudic period (200-500CE) and for seven centuries thereafter, until its first appearance in 1290 in Spain. He believed that the mystical tradition represented by the Zohar had always existed alongside the legal and narrative traditions of the Talmud, even if it was not explicitly documented during that long period. 

The correspondence

Shadal argues that, in Judaism, there is a simple essence, and it is far from mystical: 

“I have dedicated my life and my entire being to the defense of simple Mosaism, which is and always was understood by all of antiquity, while you aim for nothing less than making it appear absurd and vain. Christianity sought to do the same. But Christianity has produced good outside the Synagogue. To the contrary, the new Kabbalists, new but worse Christians, tend to attack the Synagogue [of simple and traditional Torah observance] without benefiting any other people” (Shadal, 1863, Epistolario, 1029-1030). 

Drawing a hard line, Shadal argues that, notwithstanding all Benamozegh’s rhetoric, the fact remains that ultimately Judaism is about the observance of the commandments. Shadal counters that it is precisely the mystical overlay that threatens to obscure the clarity and integrity of Jewish practice: 

“And so no matter how many mysteries may be invented, nothing will ever go beyond the gezerat ha-melekh [i.e., the decrees of God]” (Ibid.). 

Shadal advocates for a simple Judaism without the “mystical overlay”: 

“I will add, to avoid any misunderstanding, that by ‘simple and material Mosaism’ I mean, for example, sounding the shofar, or hearing it sounded, without engaging in mystical kavvanot [meditations], but with the sole kavvanah [intention] of fulfilling a Divine precept, which is holy for us for the simple reason that it was imposed upon us by God” (Ibid.). 

Shadal signs off his letter with his commitment to remain friends with Benamozegh despite their polar opposite stances on the status of the Zohar and despite his comparison of “new Kabbalists”  who are “worse” than “Christians”: 

“Your most devoted, S. D. L. [Shadal], faithful to the plain truths unmixed with fables; friend of peace even with the mysticists, even with the Christians” (Ibid). 

Benamozegh responds to the claim of Shadal that Judaism is a simple observance of commandments without any admixture of esotericism: 

“But you know very well that simplicity is not a legitimate mark of a true religion, for the truth by its nature is complex, organic, harmonic…” (Benamozegh, 1863, Lettere, 57-74). 

Benamozegh insists that even in Talmudic times, there was not only concern for the simple observance of commandments, but a deep interest in mysticism. He challenges Shadal: 

“Can you deny that even in the Talmudic tradition there is an esoteric knowledge?... You will say that those mysteries did exist, to be sure, but that they disappeared and were taken over by false ones. But is there anything more unlikely than this?” (Ibid.). 

Then Benamozegh lists some of the rabbis of the immediate post-Talmudic period, including later famous rabbis and shows that they were all Kabbalists. He acknowledges that there were also some rationalist rabbis, but he has little regard for them. 

Benamozegh adopts an interesting strategy in his argumentation, where he openly admits that the Zohar, as we have it, may indeed be a flawed book with additions that were not present in earlier versions: 

“Who ever thought or maintained that the Zohar did not contain interpolations, even large and copious ones? (Ibid.). 

Bernamozegh does not stop at acknowledging that there may be large swathes of added materiel in the Zohar, but he goes far beyond that. He next statement is introduced with “And then—and then—” as if he’s bracing Shadal for the shock of his next admission. He makes a distinction between the book of the Zohar and Kabbalah in general: 

“—[I]f the truth were not impeding me, do you know that I would be capable of conceding to you that the Zohar is false from top to bottom, while nevertheless requiring you to agree that the Kabbalah is ancient? What does the Zohar have to do with the Kabbalah…Yes, sir: there are interpolations in the Zohar; what of it? And if you insist…I would add, yes sir, the Zohar is false; so what? The Kabbalah existed before it among the Amoraim, Geonim, Rabbanim, and it will exist after it…I attribute to it a spirit, its own contemporaneous twin theory, which is the Kabbalah” (Ibid). 

In other words, Benamozegh is claiming that there is an eternal and ethereal Kabbalah that exists with or without the Zohar or any other text. The truths the Zohar conveys are textless and timeless. Even if the Zohar were proven to be a medieval forgery, the Kabbalah would still stand—because its truths are timeless. Benamozegh brilliantly rescues Kabbalah from the charge of forgery by elevating it beyond any single book. 

Shadal responds to Benamozegh’s claim that the Zohar is not essential to universal mysticism by demonstrating just how pivotal it has become: 

“And if, then, a Kabbalist wanted to renounce the Zohar and keep the Kabbalah, he could absolutely not do so, for his inspired men— Isaac Luria, Joseph Caro, and whoever else there may be—all accepted the Zohar as a work of the Masters whose names it bears, and so they would all be false prophets” (Ibid.)

Amid his defence, Benamozegh cannot resist directing a pointed critique toward Maimonides—the symbol of Jewish rationalism: 

“Rambam [Maimonides], who Aristotelizes Mosaism—and…partly disfigures its fair face. I stop my ears so as not to hear it” (Ibid.). 

Thus, mysticism is not the weak link in the chain of Jewish tradition, rationalism is. In turn, Shadal responds to the insult to the rationalists by insulting the mystics: 

“Most wisely, our Masters gave the label of [כָּל הַמִּסְתַּכֵּל בְּאַרְבָּעָה דְּבָרִים, רָאוּי לוֹ כְּאִלּוּ לֹא בָּא לָעוֹלָם, מַה לְּמַעְלָה, מַה לְּמַטָּה, מַה לְּפָנִים, וּמַה לְּאָחוֹר. וְכָל שֶׁלֹּא חָס עַל כְּבוֹד קוֹנוֹ, רָאוּי לוֹ שֶׁלֹּא בָּא לָעוֹלָם:^[5] ‘one who has no consideration for the honor of his Maker’ to such metaphysicians (Mishnah Chagigah 2:1)], who pose absurd questions and resolve them with answers that are even more absurd” (Shadal, 1863, Epistolario, 1032-1036).  

Shadal insists that on a simple and historical level, the Zohar: 

“contains not even half a page that could possibly belong to those personages to whom it is attributed” (Ibid.). 

“Let him bray”

The debate over mysticism and rationalism between Shadal and Benamozegh often got heated. Shadal frequently chose silence over engagement and did not always respond to Benamozegh. He deliberately left some of Benamozegh’s letters unanswered, and at one point, he remarked that he preferred to stay quiet and “let him bray,” likening Benamozegh’s arguments to the braying of a donkey. However, Benamozegh did not remain silent and responded: 

“[K]eep in mind, when you wish to pay me some disagreeable compliment, to at least treat me as a behemah tehorah [a kosher animal]” (Benamozegh, 1863, Lettere, 49-51). 

Shadal did not leave this retort unanswered. He replied that he could have easily used the word “bark” instead of “bray”: 

“[B]raying seems to me less odious, less offensive than barking…[and] it was not you who was the offended party, but the poor donkey. For the donkey’s brayings are always sincere” (Shadal, 1863, Epistolario, 1027-1028). 

Conclusion

In the face of Shadal’s cutting remark—his intention to “let him bray”—Benamozegh responds with remarkable poise and honour: 

“I believe that we can still come to an understanding, that we can each make reciprocal concessions, and on the day in which we present ourselves to the world united together, and by dint of good will and love of the truth we combine together the Vikkuah and the Ta‘am le Shad, then I believe I will hear in the distance a different braying…the braying of the donkey of the King Messiah” (Benamozegh, 1863, Lettere, 57-74). 

His dream came to pass because today—whether by providence or publishing pragmatism—one can purchase both Shadal’s Vikkuah al Chochmat haKabbalah and Benamozegh’s Taam leShad bound together in a single volume, available on Amazon.

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[1] Klein, D.A., 2022, ‘Let Him Bray: The Stormy Correspondence Between Samuel David Luzzatto and Elia Benamozegh’, Ḥakirah, the Flatbush Journal of Jewish Law and Thought, vol. 31, 269-300.

[2] Luzzatto, S,D., 1878, Autobiografia di S. D. Luzzatto, Padua.

[3] [see: Kotzk Blog: 164) RABBI LEON OF MODENA – GAON, GAMBLER OR HERETIC?].

[4] Benamozegh, E., 1890, Lettere dirette a S. D. Luzzatto da Elia Benamozegh, Livorno.

[5] Translation of the Hebrew: “Whoever looks at four matters, it would have been better for him had he never entered the world: Anyone who reflects upon what is above the firmament and what is below the earth, what was before Creation, and what will be after the end of the world. And anyone who has no concern for the honor of his Maker, who inquires into and deals with matters not permitted to him, deserves to have never come to the world.”