514) Kabbalah: From Obscurity to the Defining Essence of Judaism

First printing of the Zohar, Cremona 1558.

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professor David Malkiel[1]—explores the thirteenth-century rise of Kabbalah in Spain and its subsequent peaking in sixteenth-century Safed. Since the Safed period, Kabbalah has come to be widely regarded as embodying the very essence and greatest depths of Judaism in the popular imagination. How did this transformation take place? Some would suggest that this is a natural progression towards messianic times. But any study of Jewish messianism shows that we have always believed we've been living in imminent messianic times. There may be additional ways of tracking the development of Kabbalah.

Malkiel introduces an unusual history of the rise of Kabbalah from a cultural perspective connecting it to the Rennaissance and the emerging preoccupation with ‘realism,’ which (ironically for a study on mysticism) avoids fantasy and idealism in favour of concrete reality. 

Regardless of the debate over whether the second-century Tanna (Mishnaic sage), R. Shimon bar Yocha, authored the Zohar or not, the work only emerged a thousand years later in Spain, around 1290,[2] when R. Moshe de León (c.1240-1305) claimed he had found the original ancient document. For our purposes, this places the emergence of the Zohar in a cultural environment, just preceding the Rennaissance, where ‘reality’ is beginning to matter more than ‘fantasy.’ For this reason, according to Malkiel, the Zohar sought to root its albeit extremely mystical teachings, in apparent historical stories of real people walking through the actual Land of Israel in small groups, while discussing the mysteries of the Torah. The Zohar contains over one hundred descriptions of these physical travels and journeys of R. Shimon bar Yochai and his students through the Land, walking its pathways and treading its soil. 

Yehuda Liebes maintains that R. Moshe de León was involved in the authorship of the Zohar and, although living in Spain, he directly reflected R. Shimon bar Yochai and his students walking through the Land in small groups. These groups: 

“may in fact have mirrored an actual mystical fraternity active in late thirteenth-century Spain, centered around the personality of R. Moshe de Leon. This circle…may have authored the Zohar, spiritually or imaginatively transplanting themselves in the land of Israel of the second century” (Leshem 2021:112).[3] [See: Kotzk Blog: 513) Secret Mystical and Chassidic societies]. 

Malkiel suggests that the Zohar’s style of writing was typical of the thirteenth century where even mystical ideas had to be framed in ostensibly real settings, without which, it had little chance of gaining traction. Malkiel is trying to understand how Kabbalah and mysticism in general, emerged from a relatively obscure study to effectively become the mainstay of later Judaism—to the extent that is identified with the essence of Judaism today. He explains this transformation taking place as a result of the framing of classical Kabbalah within an unquestionable foundation of facts and actuality—a style that was typically emerging in the general culture of the thirteenth century. This trend of historical rootedness and awareness later reached its fruition during the Renaissance period in which the Safed Kabbalists flourished during the sixteenth century. The Safed Kabbalists, however, went one step further, they actually walked the land of Galilee reliving the stories of the Zohar 'in situ.'

The difference, though, between the thirteenth-century Kabbalists of Spain and the sixteenth-century Kabalists of Safed was that the former remained close-knit, elitist and secretive while the latter began to penetrate the mainstream and public Jewish arena, eventually succeeding in embedding mysticism as the defining essence of Judaism. 

Methodology

Malkiel uses the societal and cultural changes brought about by the early Renaissance as they were influencing the world at large during these periods, as the determinator of Kabbalah’s development from obscurity to prominence. On the surface, these cultural changes with their inherent inclination toward ‘realism’ might seem irrelevant to a study of the development of Kabbalah. However, without exploring the cultural preoccupation with realism during the early Renaissance, it would be like analysing the spread of modern Torah teachings in today’s world, without acknowledging the vital role the internet has to play in this phenomenon. 

Malkiel departs from Scholem

Malkiel diverts from the classical approach of Gershom Scholem—the Father of the historical and academic study of Jewish mysticism—who had always suggested that the rise and popularity of Kabbalah was a natural consequence of the Expulsion of Jews from Spain. This event, according to Scholem (1973:15;66),[4] was so traumatic on the Jewish psyche that the resort to mysticism and messianism was the only way to heal the broken collective Jewish soul. Hence, they turned away from their previous interest in rationalism (many Spanish rabbis had been rationalists) and tended more towards mysticism. Mysticism is often described as an antidote to the extreme Maimonidean rationalism that prevailed in the immediate aftermath of Maimonides’ passing in 1204 and—just decades later—had to be neutralised by the Zoharic mysticism of 1290. 

Not everyone agreed with Scholem’s thèse grande[5] or grand thesis with its singular and sweeping explanation of a great historical event caused by a singular overwhelming occurrence. Moshe Idel, for example, challenged what he considered to be Scholem’s simplistic explanation and instead suggested that the events of history are often more encompassing and even fragmented, and the result of various, and seemingly unrelated, forces. Malkiel adopts a similar approach and looks at the prevailing cultural changes brought about by Renaissance thinking. This is indeed a novel approach to understanding the penetration of Kabbalistic thought to the masses. Nevertheless (while I tend to support Scholem’s grand theory of rising messianism following the Expulsion),[6] Malkiel’s thoughts are fascinating and worth considering. 

According to Malkiel, the spread of Kabbalah was driven by an unlikely societal fascination with 'realism,' which emerged during the pre-Renaissance and early Renaissance periods. Mystical ideas could not easily be presented in isolation devoid of some historical reality:

“Leading scholars of the Zoharic literature have suggested that Bar Yohai and his Zoharic colleagues are mythological avatars [‘incarnations,’ symbolic representations or literary constructs][7] for a circle of mystics from thirteenth-century Castile, the kabbalists who contributed to the composition of the Zohar’s various books” (Malkiel 2018:315). 

‘Realism’

During the period between the emergence of the Zohar and the rise and spread of Safed Kabbalah, the cultural focus in general society shifted from the medieval preoccupation with myth and fantasy to an emergent form of realism with a more ‘scientific’ approach to ideas. Mystical concepts could only be accepted if they were presented and perceived as ‘true’ and ‘historical.’ There are many indications of this cataclysmic shift in thinking and in the manner in which old ideas were presented. What follows are some examples of how the thoughts of the time were carried by what one might call an early form of societal ‘internet,’ with its emphasis on reality. 

The fifteenth-century voyages of discovery completely changed the way people looked at foreign and hitherto unseen land. Exotic continents were no longer the place of myth and fantasy but reality. Old maps were recalibrated and even the fauna and flora of unreachable lands were now seen and handled for the first time. Padua’s university established the first botanical garden in 1545. Museums with real displays were opened up. Empirical knowledge suddenly became more valuable than received tradition. Historical traditions were, for the first time, subjected to critical review. 

In the field of Politics, the Renaissance political philosopher, Niccolò Machiavelli (1469-1527) wrote about pragmatism dominating political decisions rather than being dictated by old-fashioned idealism and religion. Rulers could maintain control by looking after their pragmatic interests and even be cunning and ruthless in their national and personal pursuits. The ends justify the means. Political power and stability are higher than morality. Realpolitik (although the term was only coined in the nineteenth century) is based on practical, strategic and pragmatic considerations rather than Idealpolitik based on morality and ideology with its focus on ethics, justice and diplomacy. 

In this regard, it is interesting to note that the Portuguese rabbi, Don Yitzchak Abravanel (or Abarbanel) (d. 1508) commented on the Venetian form of republican governance which embraced this new form of pragmatism where statesmen were directing policy based on real and concrete considerations and no longer governed by monarchies and religion. 

The Father of Jewish mysticism, Ramban (Nachmanides 1194-1270), showed great interest in ancient geography, rooting many of his teachings in the historical approaches of his times. 

R. Yosef ibn Kaspi (1280-1345) from Southern France, wrote Torah interpretations on the Exodus based on the closest ‘historical’ sources he could attain, namely his visit to Egypt. They may not have been the historical biblical Egyptians but they were as close as he could get to understanding them and it represented a typical: 

“early attempt to construct a realistic image of the ancient world” (Malkiel 2018:320). 

Rashi’s enfant terrible grandson—who found it hard to tow the conventional family line, was also interested in what we today would call sociology and anthropology—tried to give his commentaries an “air of realism” (Malkiel 2018:3231). He noted that the nations of the Ancient Near East used to calve idolatrous images on the walls of their altars. For this historical reason, he maintains, the Israelites were commanded to construct their altars from earthen material which would not support such carvings. 

The land of Israel moves from concept to reality

The Land of Israel had become not just the subject of hopes and prayers but a lived reality. Ironically, the twelfth-century returning Crusaders did much to remove the Holy Land from its earlier mythical status to that of a real Land that could be travelled to and walked on. Europeans now started to travel to the Holy Land. Yehudah haLevi set sail for Palestine in 1140. Less than a century later, in 1211, three hundred important French and German rabbis emigrated to the Holy Land. A book, Sefer haTerumah, dedicated to commandments that could only be fulfilled by living in the Land was produced by R. Baruch ben Yitzchak of Worms, one of this group of rabbis who left Europe for Palestine. 

Nachmanides, as mentioned earlier, who expressed interest in geography, eventually also settled in the Land of Israel. He wrote that not only were there special laws of the Torah that could only be fulfilled in the Land but that all the mitzvot had to be fulfilled in the Land. 

The physical Land of Israel had taken on a concrete, immediate and Halachic reality not experienced for centuries. This was later to be buttressed more acutely by the Kabbalists of Safed when Jewish settlement in the Land was significantly increased following the Spanish Expulsion. 

The Kabbalists of Safed relive the Zoharic tradition in reality

The sixteenth-century Kabbalists of Safed relived the Zoharic tradition of R. Shimon bar Yochai in reality, by literally walking in what they believed were his footsteps while promoting and discussing similarly startlingly novel interpretations of Torah verses, and often relating them to the Sefirot (mystical spheres). The Sefatian Kabbalist, R. Moshe Cordovero: 

“explicitly states that he and his fellow kabbalistic ramblers were following the example of Bar Yohai and his mystical adherents… [T]he appearance…of a coterie of mystics, would have seemed to contemporaries to be a revival of what they heard had gone on there over a millennium earlier. To those who knew of the perambulations of the city’s latter-day mystics, the resemblance to what the Zohar reports about the ancient sages must have seemed uncanny. Before their very eyes, reality was breathing life into the mythical past. Bar Yohai and the Zohar, and by extension the Sephirot, leaped from the pages of the ancient text and assumed living, breathing, form in the Galilean hills, along its dusty byways, in its meadows and gullies” (Malkiel 2018:315-56). 

Safed was also experiencing a renaissance. Its population grew exponentially in a very short while after the refugees of the Spanish expulsion arrived in the city. The Safed Kabbalists spoke of the exile of the Shechina and this resonated with those who had experienced physical exile firsthand. The Safed Kabbalists innovated various mystical practices, including voluntary exile. Groups of initiates would undertake to walk outside of the city limits and go deep into the surrounding countryside as a means of identifying with the exiled Shechina. R. Cordovero wrote: 

“How should one acquire the quality of Royalty (Malkhut)? [...] He should exile himself from place to place for the sake of heaven, and in this manner he will make himself a chariot for the exiled Presence (Shekhinah) […] and make his heart surrender in exile and bind himself to the Torah, and then the Presence is with him. And he should perform self-expulsions, and constantly expel himself from his abode of rest, as Rabbi Simeon bar Yohai and his colleagues would exile themselves and study the Torah. [It would be] particularly [beneficial] if he would walk from place to place, without horse and carriage” (R. Moshe Cordovero, Tomer Devorah, 16v). 

R. Cordovero further wrote: 

“[C]oncerning the exiles: we would exile ourselves in the field with the divine Rabbi Solomon Alkabetz Halevi to discuss the Torah’s verses spontaneously, without [preparatory] thought. And the things would become new, things which could not be believed except to one who saw or attempted it many times” (R. Moshe Cordovero, Or Neʻerav, 32v-33r). 

Kabbalah gains traction among the popular masses

Expounding on Kabbalah in a way that directly reflected the truth of the Zohar as it was perceived and relived in Safed, before the masses of Spanish refugees, only served to preserve and mainstream Kabbalistic thought among the population. A cultural shift had taken place. Safed was a centre of the wool trade and the Spanish refugees conducted business with their fellow traders around the world. Their ideas migrated with their multiple contacts with other Jews in Europe and elsewhere. 

“Safed was throbbing with life, and its new and robust Jewish population was tightly bound to their brethren in other lands through links of transportation and communication, such that even to those in far-off lands, be it Poland or Morocco, Safed seemed three-dimensional and within reach” (Malkiel 2018:317). 

By reliving the Zoharic teachings of R. Shimon bar Yochai, in the same proximity and on the same land, the truth of Kabbalah was enshrined in the minds of the masses who were experiencing a spiritual and mystical renaissance. There was now a: 

“translation of ideas and themes from literary sources to social praxis” (Malkiel 2018: 317, footnote 11). 

At the same time, in Safed, R. Yosef Karo was responsible for the Zohar gaining a position of prestige even among Halachists, and although he claimed that we do not learn Halacha from the Zohar, he still ruled in accord with the Zohar in a number of instances. 

With the recent invention of the printing press, these new Kabbalistic ideas were able to penetrate mainstream Jewish society. The Zohar first appeared in print at this time with its first printed edition appearing in Cremona in 1558. 

This revival, reenactment and reidentification with a historical past may perhaps be compared to the ethos of modern-day Jews returning to their ancient homeland, Israel, and the feeling of walking in the footsteps of history, facing the same vicissitudes, hope and fears as their ancestors. This is a very powerful experience. [Of course, the analogy may or may not break down in the case of the historicity of the Zohar, depending on the position one chooses to take, but the resultant feelings and emotions would be similarly invigorating regardless.] 

Thus, in Safed, Kabbalah had moved from the exclusive proclivity of a selected elite to the property of the masses. More so, it had moved from a realm of obscurity to assume flesh and blood endorsement from those who were re-experiencing its stories on the same pathways of the Galilee as R. Shimon bar Yochai had trampled upon, pondering the same doctrines with his students. This precisely corresponded to the societal shift towards realism that was taking hold at that time. They were reliving history and at the same time they: 

“propelled the memory of Bar Yohai, his fellows and their activities from booklore and myth to concrete and tangible experience. A revolutionary moment in the historical march of Jewish culture, it elevated the status of kabbalah to heights from which there was no turning back” (Malkiel 2018:320). 

Conclusion 

Malkiel started with a penetrating question: 

“[How do we] identify the factors that explain kabbalah’s ascent to prominence, to the point that it became synonymous with Jewish spirituality [?]” (Malkiel 2018:313).  

He argues that between the twelfth and sixteenth centuries—from the emergence of the Zohar in 1290 up to the rise and spread of the Safed Kabbalah in the 1500s—the corresponding societal preoccupation with realism and the need to root everything of consequence in some historical or scientific reality, was reflected within the rabbinic world as well. By the time we reach sixteenth-century Safed, the Zohar experiences its second life being relived through the practices of the Safed Kabbalists who lend a sense of credence to the historical reality of the Zohar: 

“the process of the widespread penetration of the Kabbalah, and particularly the Zohar, into the public consciousness…[led to it becoming] the quintessence of Jewish spirituality and a ubiquitous presence in daily religious life” (Malkiel 2018:324).  

Malkiel traces the progression of Jewish mysticism from its early, secondary, secretive, insular circles and strata to its popular contemporary conceptualisation as the deepest and most quintessential expression of Jewish thought.

---

[1] Malkiel, D., 2018, ‘Realism and the Rise of Kabbalah in the Sixteenth Century’, in Caminos de leche y miel: Jubilee Volume in Honor of Michael Studemund-Halévy, 313-327.

[2] The date 1270 is sometimes given.

[3] Leshem, Z., 2021, ‘Mystical Fraternities: Jerusalem, Tiberius, and Warsaw: A Comparative Study of Goals, Structures, and Methods,’ in Hasidism, Suffering, and Renewal: The Prewar and Holocaust Legacy of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira,’ Edited by Don Seeman, Daniel Reiser, and Ariel Evan Mayse, Suny Press.

[4] Scholem, G., 1973, Sabbatai Sevi: The Mystical Messiah, 1626–1676, PUP, Princeton.

[5] Pronounced ‘tez grahnd.’

[6] Scholem also offered a thèse grande when it came to the rise of Sabbatianism. He explained it predominantly as a response to the messianic tensions induced by Lurianic Kabbalah and it emphasis on tikkun (spiritual rectification). Most scholars similarly tended away from Scholem’s grand and dramatic theory, but (as a rabbi and not a historian or sociologist) I chose to support him in my Master’s Thesis, based on the observable notion of religious masses who follow leaders and do not concern themselves with the origins of ideas. Similarly, were one to prove that Kabbalah came from Gnosticism, as per Scholem, it would have no bearing whatsoever on the mystics who only follow their Kabbalistic teachers and have no interest in tracing the origins of Jewish mysticism. All one needs are one or two sufficiently authoritative rabbinic leaders, even if they are active only within small circles, to sow the theological seeds and the ideology will root and spread in fertile ground [see (99+) Jewish messianism culminating in the rise and dissemination of Sabbatianism - An excursion into messianic Kabbalah and its theological enterprises (Master's Thesis)., p. 127.].

[7] Square backets are mine.

513) Secret Mystical and Chassidic societies

The Pledge of Allegiance between the students of the Ari zal (as found in the Stolin Geniza)

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Rabbi Dr Zvi Leshem[1]—examines several secret mystical societies from biblical times to pre-war Europe, with a particular focus on the secretive group established by R. Kalonymus Kalmish (Kalman) Shapira of Piasecnzo (Piasetzna) (1889-1943). 

Secret mystical circles and societies are not well-known in Judaism, but they have always existed. 

Biblical times

The Torah describes the Benei haNevi’im (Sons of the Prophets) who were groups of disciples of prophets like Samuel, Eliyahu and Elisha (see 2 Kings 2:3, 4:1, 6:1 for example). These groups, while not necessarily secretive, played a significant role in preserving prophetic traditions and maintaining spiritual teachings during times of idolatry and apostasy. They used mystical techniques including meditation and even music to train in prophetic inspiration (Leshem 2021:112). 

Talmudic times

In Talmudic times, we read about the four sages who entered the Pardes (mystical ‘Orchard’).  Ben Azzai gazed and died; Ben Zoma gazed and was mentally affected; Acher "cut the plantings," meaning he became a heretic; but only R. Akiva (50-135 CE) entered in peace and left in peace. 

Zoharic times

Without going into the controversy over the authorship of the Zohar, it only emerged for the first time around 1290 in Spain in the time of R. Moshe de León (1240-1305). Many scholars including some notable rabbis believe the Zohar is R. Moshe de León’s own work, although he claimed he had found the original manuscript by R. Shimon bar Yochai from one thousand years earlier.  The Zohar describes the existence of the Chevraya Kedosha (Mystical or Holy Fraternities) of the second-century R. Shimon bar Yochai and his students. According to Yehuda Liebes, these Chevraya Kedosha: 

“may in fact have mirrored an actual mystical fraternity active in late thirteenth-century Spain, centered around the personality of R. Moshe de Leon. This circle…may have authored the Zohar, spiritually or imaginatively transplanting themselves in the land of Israel of the second century” (Leshem 2021:112). 

Early Modern Period

R. David ben Zimra (Radbaz) (1479-1573)

The Stolin Geniza also held another similar and secretive contract signed in the same year, 1565, but this time in Egypt. It was between the eleven students of Radbaz and they too pledged strict confidentiality to the teachings of their Master. 

R. Yitzchak Luria (Ari zal) (1534-1572)

During the sixteenth century, the Kabbalists of Safed had also formed secretive mystical circles particularly the group centred around R. Yitzchak Luria, also known as the Ari. The famous Stolin Geniza housed a contract between the students of the Ari and R. Chaim Vital which was signed in 157(or 6?)5 (see: Kotzk Blog: 307) SEFER HATZOREF AND THE STORY OF THE ‘LOST’ STOLIN GENIZA:). In it, they pledge to serve G-d and study Torah only as taught by R. Chaim Vital and they agree not to reveal his mystical teachings to those outside the group without permission. 

The Pledge of Allegiance (as found in the Stolin Geniza) reads as follows:

"We the undersigned have pledged ourselves to form a single company to worship the Divine Name and study His Law day and night, as we shall be instructed by the perfect and divine Sage, the Rav and Teacher, R. Hayyim Vital (may his light shine forth!), and we shall learn with him the true wisdom and be faithful in spirit, concealing all that he shall tell us, and we shall not trouble him by pressing him too much for things that he does not wish to reveal to us, and we shall not reveal to others any secret of all that we shall hear spoken in truth by his mouth, nor of all that he taught us in the past, nor even of what he taught us in the lifetime of our Teacher, the great Rav, R. Yitshak Luria Ashkenazi (of blessed memory) during all that time; and even what we heard from the lips of our Teacher, the above-named Rav (of blessed memory), we shall not be able to reveal without his permission, since we should not understand these things if he had not explained them to us. This pledge, taken under solemn oath in the Name of the Lord, concerns our Teacher, the above mentioned Rav, R. Hayyim (may his light shine forth!); and the duration of this pledge is from today for ten consecutive years. Today is the second day of the week, the 25^th Menahem Av, 5335 of the creation [1575], here in Tsfath (Safed] (may it be built and established speedily in our days!); and all these words are clear and valid" (Stolin Geniza).

R. Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (Ramchal) (1707-1746).

During the early eighteenth century, in Padua, Italy, R Moshe Chaim Luzzatto also maintained secretive study circles. 

R. Shalom Sharabi (Rashash) (1720-1777)

Also in the eighteenth century, the Yemenite rabbi, Shalom Sharabi and his group signed a secretive fraternal document (Shtar Hitkashrut) at Yeshivat Bet El in the Old City of Jerusalem. This document was signed in 1754 and 1758. The secretive society went by the name Ahavat Shalom (Lovers of Peace and perhaps Lovers of R. Shalom, whose name means peace as well). The members of this fraternity were known as Mechavnim (those with mystical Intentionality). They focused on the Kavvanot (mystical Intentions) of the Ari zal and R. Chaim Vital but specifically through a Sefaradic lens. 

They signed a pact of friendship and made use of certain types of melody. According to Ariel Bension (the son of one of the last members of the group): 

“under the magic of these tunes, mekhavnim and listeners, animate and inanimate objects, became one in the true pantheistic sense” (Bension 1930).[2] 

Initially, there were twelve signatories (including the Chida, R. Chaim David Azulai), corresponding to the twelve tribes of Israel and they pledged their affinity to each other with great love, and their bonds of friendship were to extend even into the world to come. According to their manifesto (apparently written in the hand of the Chida) they undertook to: 

“love each other with great love, both spiritual and physical…the twelve of us will be as one man…Each of us will rebuke his associate when, God forbid, he hears of any sin the latter has committed… [We pledge] never to praise one another even if it is clear to everyone that one associate is superior… None of us will rise fully to his feet before any other associate… We shall conduct ourselves as if we were one man, no part of whom is superior to any other part… We further take upon ourselves the obligation never to reveal to any creature that we have resolved to do these things” (see Meir Benayahu, 1995, Shtare Hitkashrut she-le-mekubale Yerushalayim, Asufot 9:16). 

R. Shalom Sharabi encouraged his group to separate from the regular synagogues and only pray at his Bet El where they focused on Lurianic Kavanot (mystical intentions). This was distinct from the group of R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira—as we shall soon see—where the individual members of his group were encouraged to remain within their particular communities. Another difference was that in the signed fraternal contract of Bet El, the brotherly connections ‘remained’ even after the death of member of the group. A further difference was that Bet El adopted the mode of stern rebuke among its elite membership, whereas R. Shapira advocated a gentler approach involving coaching and peer counselling (Leshem 2021:118). 

R. Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk (c.1730-1788) and R. Avraham Kalisk (1741-1810)

R. Menachem Mendel of Vitebsk and R. Avraham Kalisk were third-generation Chassidic Rebbes being disciples of the Maggid of Mezeritch (the successor to the Baal Shem Tov). The former led a Chassidic aliya to Safed and Tiberius in 1777. Both Rebbes established Chassidic circles in Tiberius and maintained tight control over their followers. Their inner teachings were reserved only for a selected few. 

These secretive Chassidic groups emphasised, among other virtues, the importance of up-frontness and confession between friends. This marked a break or development from the usual communal confession before G-d, which has always been a characteristic of traditional Judaism. In some Chassidic circles, like Breslov, the notion of confession was turned to confession before the Tzadik (i.e., R. Nachman). This was akin to an initiation rite in Breslov. However, in the group of R. Avraham of Lalisk, the notion of confession evolved to confession between equals and became a daily ritual: 

“Let him hold converse with them every day for about half an hour, and engage in self-reproof for the evil ways he sees in himself. His companion should do likewise” (Letter of R. Avraham of Kalisk). 

One of the differences between the Tiberius Chassidic groups and R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira was that according to R. Avraham of Kalisk, one could use the spiritual energy of one’s fellow in the group as a stepping stone for one’s own Deveikut (spiritual clinging to G-d). This was absent in R. Shapira’s system where the spiritual energies of the individuals were not seen to ‘merge,’ although he still maintained that: 

“the individual cannot achieve alone what he is capable of achieving within the group” (Shapira, Benei Machshava Tova, 8). 

We glean much information about the more secretive enterprises of these Tiberius groups of Chassidim from a series of letters that were first published in the early nineteenth century. Leshem suggests that these letters and their content would have been known to R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira, through his father-in-law, R. Yerahmiel Moshe Hapstein of Kozhnits, who was familiar with the inner workings of the Chassidic courts. 

We now turn to the main focus of this study, the secret handbook of R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira. 

R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira (1889-1943)

Around 1920, R. Kalonymus Kalmish (Kalman) Shapira produced a secret handbook for his mystical group, titled Benei Machshava Tova (Sons of Good Thought). The book presented guidelines for how the secret group was to conduct itself and also expounded on an assortment of mystical techniques and meditative exercises for “expanding consciousness and achieving prophetic inspiration” (Leshem 2021:107). R. Shapira referenced this work in his later writings which indicates that, over time, it had lost its initial secretive status. 

In terms of historical context, it is significant that R. Shapira’s twentieth-century “plan for renewal” (Leshem 2021:108) of the Chassidic movement emerged after a period of deterioration of the movement: 

“In his opinion, certain aspects of Hasidic life had fallen into disregard, including the crucial institution of Hasidic fellowship, the Hevraya qadisha, which first appears in the context of the Zohar. Drastic educational reform and spiritual revolution were needed. As part of his program, he strove to reinstitute spiritual societies…” (Leshem 2021:109). 

R. Shapira’s secret handbook, Benei Machshava Tova, was directed towards the elite members of the Chassidic movement. He attempted: 

“to empower an elite cadre of Hasidic avreikhim (advanced students) as part of his attempt to strengthen Hasidic society and fortify it against the corrosive influences of secular modernity” (Leshem 2021:124). 

He wanted to establish small fraternities of like-minded soul searchers within the movement. Each of the souls in the group would “melt” together. His secret handbook would serve as a practical guide to the exclusive and secret participants and show them how to achieve: 

“a heightened state of consciousness that went beyond special times of prayer or Torah study. It was meant to be a total revolution in the religious persona of the individual, who would learn to think constantly of God, living in a state of intense concentration and powerful emotion bordering on prophecy” (Leshem 2021:109). 

The members of the secret society would be taught how to attain Machshava Tova (good thought) and enter into a state of expanded consciousness. In a break from the Chassidic norm—where the individual would serve the Rebbe and the group—now the group would serve the individual. 

The secret society was controlled very tightly with a set of internal ‘bylaws.’ Each group was to keep its own records with its lists of members. This was, after all, a holy society and, therefore, the writing was to be in the specific script as found in Torah scrolls. The records were to contain the Nusach haKabbalah which was the signed document whereby the new member agreed to abide by the code of the group. The agreement read as follows: 

“In free will and volition, in alignment with the deepest desire of my heart, life, psyche, and soul, I take it upon myself to become a member of this devoted group… to clean and clear my body and mind and to offer them in holiness to the holy God. I devote to God’s holy purposes my intentions, thoughts, speech, and deeds, in a binding and immutable commitment… I stand before God and declare myself holy and devoted—body, heart, and mind—I am his… May his holiness enter my being. At every moment and at every level, wherever I may be, there may I be surrounded by God. May the glory of his presence encompass me from this moment on through eternity. I pray to God with all my heart and soul: If my urges overpower me… if I stray from the will of God in my intentions, in my awareness, in my speech or deeds, please God, for the sake of your great mercy, do not despise me… I know your holy hand is always open wide to accept the strays who return—accept me, for my remorse is sincere. When you are in my heart, I am whole… I go forth to enter the presence of God. I commit my 248 organs and limbs to the 248 positive commandments. I accept the 365 negative commandments in my sinews and my flesh. By this declaration, I accept upon myself to carefully observe every aspect of my behavior, intentions, and speech, in a manner appropriate for a person who has made a commitment to holiness and elevation… I know that the Holy One will support me with his unflinching righteousness and guide me on his holy path… Amen (Shapira, Benei Machsahva Tova: 54-55). 

The proposed secret societies are to remain neutral politically and have no affiliations to any specific Chassidic dynasties. No one in the group is its leader and there is no hierarchy of power. This may have been R. Shapira’s way of expressing opposition to the common and typical manifestations of the various Chassidic sects with their very strict hierarchies of structure. 

The members are to love each other and, additionally, not display animosity to those outside of the group. Their manifesto emphasised that their: 

“holy society is based on three principles: the connection of friends, the love between friends, and the cleaving of friends... They must all love each other with powerful love… Each should choose one special friend, before whom he can reveal all of the secrets of his heart, in both spiritual and physical matters, his concerns and his joys, his failures and successes. His friend should then comfort and advise him and cause him to rejoice as much as possible, also in spiritual matters, according to his understanding of the situation, and then they should reverse roles” (Shapira, Benei Machshava Tova, 56-57). 

There is even a clause that provides for someone who feels isolated from the group: 

“If there is one member for whom no one wishes to be a spiritual discussion partner, the fraternity must provide one for him…” 

Meetings within the group must take place as regularly as three times a week. During the meetings, the members must refrain from frivolous chatter. They may choose what to study in any Talmudic works, whether Mishna or Gemara, but at least once a week they must study Chassidic works (including R. Shapira’s Benei Machshava Tova). While studying the Chassidic works, they must discuss among themselves how to practically implement those teachings in their day-to-day lives. If anyone has an innovation regarding any matter, it should be discussed no matter how irrelevant it may seem. However, these gatherings should never be allowed to get out of control as was sometimes the case in other Chassidic circles: 

“It is proper for them to occasionally drink together, not to get drunk and act frivolously, God forbid, but in the way of Hasidim to connect with each other, and also to arouse the animal soul from its laziness… After they drink, they should sing a spiritually arousing song… and if they are inspired and wish to dance together, they should dance, so long as they don’t spend all of the time just drinking, singing, and dancing” (Shapira, Benei Machshava Tova, 56–57). 

Secrecy remained a key priority for the group: 

“Do not discuss or publicize matters of the holy society in the market or the streets; don’t brag about it in front of others. . . . All of Kabbalah is called ‘secret’ (sod); so too, all service involving the revelation of the soul is opposed to publicity, preferring secrecy” (Shapira, Benei Machshava Tova, 56–58). 

The martyrdom of R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira

R. Kalonymus Kalmish Shapira was killed in the Trawniki concentration camp in Poland in 1943. Members of the Jewish Underground had smuggled themselves into Trawniki, to help the inmates escape. R. Shapira refused to leave as long as there were Jews who remained behind. He had formed a new group where the members pledged their ultimate allegiance to each other even in the death camps. According to Nehemiah Polen: 

“The pious hasidic master joined hands with nominally secular figures: political activists, lawyers, intellectuals, artists, and others, sweeping aside all ideological differences in an act of solidarity that reached the core of their shared Jewish identity . . . to turn down a rescue attempt in such circumstances was a compelling act of faith, a concrete articulation of the soul-to-soul binding that he had preached all his life, an ultimate expression of the unity of Israel” (Polen 1994).[3] 

In a sadly ironic sense, one could say in Trawniki, surrounded by secular and religious Jews of all persuasions, R. Shapira experienced the: 

“highest ideal of ‘Hasidic fellowship’ that we have encountered: commitment to group martyrdom together with one’s fellows” (Leshem 2021:124). 

Analysis

Leshem makes an important contribution to the study of Chassidism by drawing attention to the more secretive aspects of the movement which is usually characterised as individualistic and promoting a form of existentialism. Chassidism—especially early Beshtian[4] Chassidism—is often understood as emphasising individual existence, freedom, and personal meaning in a world that seems to lack inherent purpose. Leshem, however, exposes a core and more private (perhaps secretive) Chassidic belief in the communal aspects of the movement where the individual’s boundaries merge with that of the group and remain subsumed within the group. This may be the hidden cement that underpins the structure, essence and ultimate success of the movement.

---

[1] Leshem, Z., 2021, ‘Mystical Fraternities: Jerusalem, Tiberius, and Warsaw: A Comparative Study of Goals, Structures, and Methods,’ in Hasidism, Suffering, and Renewal: The Prewar and Holocaust Legacy of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira,’ Edited by Don Seeman, Daniel Reiser, and Ariel Evan Mayse, Suny Press.

[2] Bension, S., 1930, Sar Shalom Sharabi, Zutot, Jerusalem, 87–91.

[3] Polen, N., 1994, The Holy Fire: The Teachings of Rabbi Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Rebbe of the Warsaw Ghetto, Jason Aronson, Northvale.

[4] From the Baal Shem Tov (abbreviated as Be sh t).

512) Managing theological differences: Then and now

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professor Bernard Dov Cooperman[1]—explores how the Italian rabbinic world dealt with their dynamic differences in theological expression during the early Modern period. This was about the same time as R. Yosef Karo was producing his Shulchan Aruch in Safed. If one of the rabbis stepped out of the perceived appropriate theological boundaries, they were officially placed under a ban of cherem, or excommunication. However, what they referred to as cherem differs dramatically from the way we understand and implement the concept of cherem today. The earlier forms of excommunication and even charges of heresy were not as severe or even as binding as they are considered nowadays. 

511) The Zoharic notion of healing a ‘lovesick’ Shechina: A possible medical context

Tikunei Zohar, first edition, Mantua 1558

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Dr Assaf Tamari[1]—examines the Zohar’s unusual depiction of the exiled Shechina (the feminine aspect of the Godhead) as a patient requiring urgent treatment. 

Note: This literature research by Tamari on the Zohar showing a possible medical context to the thirteenth-century emergence of the Zohar, is brand new and was only published recently in a peer-reviewed journal article. Had I read something like this ten years ago I would have rejected it as absolute nonsense. Now I read it with great interest and fascination.

The intertwining of religion and medicine was not an innovation of the thirteenth century when the Zohar was first published, because the two disciplines had always been interrelated since the earliest of times. Sin was traditionally associated with illness and healing with atonement (Tamari 2025:83, note 1). What was new at that time, though, was a proliferation of Jews and rabbis who had entered the medical field and were practising physicians. The number of Jewish physicians was: 

“out of proportion with contemporary demographics and the place of Jews in society” (Shatzmiller 1995:1).[2] 

510) L'shem Yichud: Do You Understand What You're Actually Saying?

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

Some days you just can’t open a regular Artscroll siddur without falling down a deep rabbit hole of theological controversy.

You’d figure that the siddur is the very poster child of consensus and ancient tradition. But you’d be wrong. There are, in fact, some odd expressions of extreme beliefs that many recite daily without giving it a second thought. Today’s example is the “l’shem yichud” attached to sefiras haomer (and to putting on tefilin). Artscroll even printed those in their Ashkenaz editions.

What’s the big deal about l’shem yichud? Well there is that famous Noda B’yehuda (חי”ד סי’ צג) who wasn’t at all shy about sharing his general feelings on the subject. But his forceful criticisms were largely focused on the chutzpa of later generations who felt that the mitzva observance of our ancestors - who simply made berachos and then did the mitzvos - was somehow incomplete. He did hint to something darker, but didn’t elaborate.

509) When authority becomes the determinator of reason, meaning and truth

An early manuscript of Meirat Einayim by the 14th century R. Yitzchak of Acre

Introduction

This article—based extensively on the research by Professor Eitan Fishbane[1]—examines the rabbinic notion of the authenticity of a teaching or text being reliant on the perceived authority of its transmitter or originator. In other words, the greater the rabbi the more authentic the teaching, regardless of the independent status, nature and validity of the actual teaching itself. 

As a test case, we analyse the writings of a fourteenth-century Kabbalist, R. Yitzchak ben Shmuel of Acre in his Meirat Einayim which is a supercommentary (i.e., a commentary on a commentary) on Nachmanides’ Commentary on the Torah. Interestingly, R. Yitzchak of Acre—who lived at the same time as R. Moshe de Leon who had claimed to have discovered the ancient Zohar—questioned the authenticity of Zohar being the work of the second-century Tanna, R. Shimon bar Yochai about a thousand years earlier.[2] 

508) Assessing the Modern "Yeshivishe" Approach to Torah Learning

Tractate Eruvin from the famous Vilna Shas

This Guest Post by Rabbi Boruch Clinton originally appeared on his B'chol D'rachecha site.

Despite what you might think, I’m not going to talk about the way yeshivas largely ignore Tanach or - in many cases - ignore 90 percent of whatever mesechte they’re learning. There may or may not be justifications for such deviations from tradition, but no one’s going to argue that, two thousand - or even two hundred - years ago, abandoning whole curriculum categories was the way things were supposed to work.

Instead, I’m going to discuss the dominance of the Brisker “chakira” style of analysis. I should be clear that I have nothing against the style, and I don’t deny that many people get enormous pleasure from it. My only question is whether making that our primary focus is the best use of the limited time we have available for our learning.