Arnold E. Franklin

320 pages | 6 x 9 | 5 illus.

Cloth Sep 2012 | ISBN 978-0-8122-4409-0 | $65.00s | £42.50

Reviewed by Geoffrey Herman

In the 11^th century, the Jewish community of Palestine was shaken by a scandal. According to a fragmentary letter found in the Cairo Geniza penned shortly after the incident, a certain individual had passed himself off as a nasi, one descending from the family of King David. He had “acquired for himself a good reputation and had in his possession a genealogy (a list of his ancestors)”. With these he had achieved a position of power and many submitted to his authority. After two years it became known that his lineage was inaccurate. And yet, as the author of the letter bemoans, even after it became known that his lineage was fictitious, “they were not ashamed or embarrassed to honour him, saying that he was (nevertheless) a sage”. He was not, however, allowed to maintain his position for long and “those who fear God” forcibly removed him from the city of Tiberias, exiling him to the “Lands of Edom.”

This can be compared with another story, this time from a Muslim milieu. A renowned 12^th century Shī‘ī genealogist by the name of Muḥammad ibn al-As‘ad al-Jawwānī visited Aleppo. He was met by a local man, sharīf Idrīs ibn al-Ḥasan al-Idrīsī. The latter sought public confirmation of his distinguished lineage. The title he bore, sharīf, indicates his claim to be an ‘Alid, a direct descendant of the Prophet’s grandson al-Ḥasan ibn ‘Alī. Al-Jawwānī, it turns out, was unconvinced by his genealogical claims, and far from verifying his lineage, discredited him, viewing him as a genealogical pretender.

These two stories together, which Franklin discusses in his book, encapsulate, to my mind, its main premise. This is a book that demonstrates the value of distinguished (Davidic) lineage in medieval Near Eastern Jewish society. Furthermore, it reveals the extent to which it parallels developments in Muslim society.

Franklin, in his well-written and attractively produced volume, changes the way we perceive Near Eastern Jewish society in the Middle Ages. The shift he urges is conceptual. He reveals the centrality of genealogy to a society that we thought had long since preferred alternative criteria for social and political advancement. His argument is compelling. Covering a large swath of time – some five centuries, Franklin thoughtfully guides his reader through a sometimes unfamiliar world. The source material sustaining this study is mostly documents drawn from the Cairo Geniza. Typically, these are not the redacted editions of the study house, but rather jottings, lists, panegyric poems, letter-drafts, and personal copies of satirical broadsheets. They are inscribed in the animated ebb and flow of daily life, in the midst of political struggles and for the cause of aspiring egos.

The book includes five main chapters, a handful of images, and two appendices. The first appendix provides the source and translation of Halper 462, one of the more interesting genealogies; and the second lists the biographical details of 107 Davidic dynasts datable between 950 – 1450 CE.

Franklin’s first chapter outlines a genealogical shift that occurred in Jewish society. By the tenth century Jews and, indeed, Muslims, had come to view the Davidic family as distinguished by its noble ancestry. This was a Jewish resonance of the importance of ancestry in Arab-Islamic society in general, and in particular, of the special status acquired by members of Muḥammad’s family. There is a pre-Islamic rabbinic legacy but its evolution in medieval society is not predictable. While there were Jewish leaders in the pre-Muslim era who claimed Davidic descent and enjoyed a degree of distinction as a result, the role played by Davidic descent in the Muslim era was quantitatively and qualitatively different. Rabbinic sources do not deal with demonstrating the veracity of Davidic lineage claims, but now we encounter attempts to provide a chain of lineage to prove the connection to biblical forebears in the form of detailed and complete genealogical lists. In the Muslim period the social value of Davidic lineage expanded. In the pre-Islamic era, Davidic lineage claims were tied to particular authority structures within the Jewish community —  the exilarchate and the patriarchate —  but with the rise of Islam this no longer obtained. While the exilarchate (the exclusive domain of the House of David) continued, we now find the term nesi’im to be used in this period for members of the Davidic clan. Many nesi’im had positions of authority, yet most such communal offices were not formally limited to members of the Davidic clan. Furthermore there was a numerical growth. The nesi’im are a group, al-ṭā’ifa al-dāwūdiyya, (the Davidic faction). There was also a geographical development: the Davidic faction began to expand westward by the tenth century, no longer being confined to Babylonia and its environs. On the whole, Franklin’s book is more interested in the shoots of David — the nesi’im — than in the trunk — the Baghdad-based exilarchate.

The second chapter describes the public display of ancestry and the need to demonstrate a complete pedigree. Thus it delves deeper into the evolution of these genealogical lists. The earliest list, according to Franklin, is the Aramaic Seder ‘olam zuṭa.[1] He shows how lists of “exilarchal rule” evolved into more individualized genealogies of Davidic families. One way was to reverse the order, starting not with the biblical ancestor but with the current incumbent and working backwards. Such genealogical lists, consisting of many dozens of names, might be appended to a signature or a letter. Priests, Levites, and others also produced detailed pedigree lists. Indeed, Franklin observes that “Davidic genealogies were part of a much broader preoccupation with biblical ancestry in Jewish society”.

The public performance of genealogy might involve a poem composed in honour of an individual, where reference would be made to members of the biblical line of David, thereby putting into poetry what the lists accomplished in prose. These lists, that took the incumbent as far back as possible, are also a model that was central to Islamic society’s construction of Muḥammad. The Muslim lists came first, and like Jewish ones, would typically result in a round number, such as forty of fifty generations to the critical biblical personage.

Franklin argues that “competition for communal authority was a critical arena in which respect for the noble lineage of members of the House of David was mobilized,” and the third chapter focuses on the political uses of royal genealogy — “like their Muslim neighbours Jews had come to regard genealogy as a crucial means of legitimizing religious and political authority.”

The sources reveal the central role that genealogy played in communal struggles over authority that need have had nothing to do with lineage. Whether it is the right to determine the religious calendar or leadership over the Geonic academies, both ostensibly academic pursuits, the arguments offered in support of one candidate or to denigrate another invariably would focus on ancestry.

And yet the ‘House of David’ was not alone at the pinnacle of medieval Jewish society. It was more of a diarchy than a monarchy. Priests, the “sons of Aaron”, contend with equal energy, and indeed no less success, in staking their claim to privilege. Most of the sources described in this chapter, in fact, portray priests and Davidic dynasts in some manner of political conflict. Franklin observes how the contemporary “political disputes could be conceptualized as rivalries between biblical dynasties”. The tenth century Karaite exegete Yefet ben ‘Eli would observe that ancient genealogies dating back to biblical times are only found with “the priests and the kings” (i.e. Davidic dynasts). This, he says, “is on account of their nobility among the Jewish people”.

Each of these two lineage-nobility groups makes similar claims, and manipulates both biblical verses and rabbinic sources to assert its exclusive right to leadership and to undermine the other. This distinctive form of medieval mud-slinging is a reminder of the unique character of the material available from the Cairo Geniza and the vivid portrait of society that it allows. It makes for entertaining reading. Was the covenant between God and the House of David eternal or had it been nullified already in antiquity? One is accused of being a descendant of proselytes; a priest of being the “son of gravediggers”. Is a member of the Davidic dynasty to be compared to David and Solomon, or perhaps to Ahaz and Manasseh.

They can be particularly creative. One author has combed the classical rabbinic sources for the entire register of denigrating judgements against priests. These are presented in 24 stanzas, evoking the 24 priestly courses which traditionally served in the temple. It focuses on the genealogical blemishes indicated by certain unbecoming behaviour traits but it is actually the product of a quarrel between two priestly clans over the leadership of the Palestinian yeshiva. A composition in the style of the epic seder ‘avoda liturgical poem begins as expected only to dramatically switch midway to glorify Judah and his descendants in place of Aaron. This poem co-opts the classical liturgical locus for the elevation of the priesthood, and was actually composed by a somewhat unscrupulous priest.

Not only does one find Davidic dynasts usurping the priesthood’s seder‘avoda genre for their cause, but also developing their own association with the Jerusalem Temple, more typically seen as an exclusively priestly domain. On the other hand, one curious story about the Karaite Solomon ha-kohen, a man of priestly descent, suggests that the pendulum might swing the other way too. He would appear to have been appropriating the messianic role that is associated with the House of David when he claimed that he was the Messiah. His assertion greatly puzzled our informant on this messianic pretender, Obadiah the Norman proselyte, who met him in 1121 CE.

The fourth chapter explores messianism as a backdrop to Near Eastern Jewish society’s profound interest in the descendants of King David. The prevalence of Davidic dynasts offered rich soil for the flowering of messianic sentiments and actions. While earlier scholars have recognized the heavily messianic rhetoric which infuses Near Eastern medieval Jewish discourse, it has not yet been linked to the families who actually claimed Davidic descent.

Here Franklin provides a succinct and informative overview of messianic themes in Near Eastern medieval Jewish society. An intense anticipation of the advent of the messianic era is reflected in religious, legal, liturgical, and popular literature of the times, and also in the active efforts to predict its arrival. Much of this finds an outlet in active messianic agitation, pretenders and heralds, who appear and stir up political troubles that threaten to overturn the delicate position of the Jews in the Muslim world.

Here, too, there is a vital Islamic context to be addressed: Islamic traditions on the mahdī, a saviour figure, usually held to stem from the Prophet’s family. The Jews often employ the very same terms of reference for their redeemer as the Muslims do for their own.

One naturally wonders about the relationship between such messianic feelings and the nesi’im who were so overtly identified with the family of David. Were the heightened messianic feelings intensified by the visibility of such mortals possessing the required genealogical credentials, and were such hopes pinned directly on specific individuals? Indeed, as Franklin observes, one does occasionally encounter messianic hopes affixed to prominent figures. They appear as rhetorical flourishes in letters and more explicitly in panegyric works. Furthermore, opponents were concerned that people might associate messianic possibility with actual political contenders. They sought to pre-empt and undermine such claims. The Judeo-Arabic Bustanay satire demonstrates the contamination of the Bustanay line from which almost all members of the Davidic dynasty claimed descent. Another approach asserts that the messiah was already born on the day when Jerusalem was destroyed. By situating the actual messiah in the mythical past, this approach aimed to neutralize messianic excitement attached to contemporary members of the Davidic line.

Notwithstanding such concerns there is no evidence of nesi’im being involved in messianic agitation. They revelled in the glory of the past and in the latent future promise, but presumably were cautious enough not to gamble their present position of honour for an uncertain hope.

In the final chapter Franklin broadens the discussion to encompass the claims to distinguished genealogy among non-Arab peoples living within the Muslim orbit. He argues that in its concern with biblical lineage medieval Jews in the Near East were “participating in a process of redefinition that affected other minority groups in the Islamic world as well.” Indeed all “embraced nasab as a way of laying claim to legitimacy.”[2] Christians could also have been added here. For instance, patriarchal lists for the eastern Syriac church emerge in this period and Bagratuni Armenians claim Davidic descent.

The shu‘ūbiyya, largely understood as a cultural literary movement, had a genealogical component, too. Non-Arab Muslims were among the leading scholars in developing ilm al-nasab, the science of genealogy, and it would soon be evident that “genealogy had become an important discursive battleground for ethnic and cultural competition between Arabs and non-Arabs.”[3]

Some stressed the existence of a class of nobles in every people. Others fabricated a distinguished Arab nasab, or such that improved on them. Persians claimed descent from Isaac (a claim aimed to evoke the slave origins of the Arabs descended through Hagar); Berbers sought Ansari or Himyar descent.

Still others asserted no less distinguished lineage among the non-Arab nations. Of particular interest were the claims to Persian historical or mythical figures from the pre-Islamic past. Thus we encounter members of the landed nobility, dehqans, and other dynasts claiming descent from Sasanian kings. Typically the claims were not supported by detailed lists of descendants, but in at least one case, for the Būyids, al-Bīrūnī provides a list of 14 generations linking the incumbent to the Sasanian king Warahrān Gūr.

Davidic descendants were a source of national pride for the Jews as a whole. They derived a kind of “collective, vicarious legitimization from the biblical lineages we have been documenting”.[4] We encounter enthusiasm for biblical lineages by those with little or nothing to gain from them. Jews sought proximity to Davidic dynasts and welcomed their visits.

This pride was refracted off the Muslims. It was important how the Muslims related to them. As Benjamin of Tudela points out, the exilarch was greeted by the Muslims in Baghdad with the cry: “make way for our lord, the son of David”. In this way the Jews experienced “a kind of collective ennoblement through their proximity to members of their own noble, pure, and prophetic lineage”.[5]

One reservation that I have relates to the place of the priests in this picture. As Franklin fully recognises, in communal politics they shared centre-stage with the Davidic dynasty. But in the scheme of this book they have been largely consigned to the margins. Furthermore, the continuity from pre-Islamic times is a little more pronounced with respect to the priesthood than Franklin explains. Polemical contestation between Davidic dynasts and priests appears in the post-Mishnaic rabbinic literature.[6] Jewish society also seems have been cultivating a preference for priestly lineage in its communal leadership offices and elsewhere already in the pre-Islamic era.[7] Although Franklin has preferred a monarchical model, focusing on the pre-eminence of the Davidic line in imitation of the ‘Alids, the fundamentally diarchical character of Jewish politics deserves more consideration.

In sum, this erudite and highly readable volume is impressive in its mastery and exposition of such diverse and complex sources. More significantly, in its genealogical shift it makes a vital contribution to our understanding of Near Eastern medieval Jewish society, and particularly to our appreciation of the depth of the Jewish-Arab symbiosis.

We now have a searchable bibliography online

http://cudl.lib.cam.ac.uk/bibliographies/genizah

This is still very much in beta, so we would appreciate comments. Note that you have to search for the full class mark (i.e., with T-S at the beginning) but you can use wildcards (*).

Make use of it.

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Seride Teshuvot: A Descriptive Catalogue of Responsa Fragments from the Jacques Mosseri Collection in Cambridge University Library

Shmuel Glick et al.

Cambridge Genizah Studies 3; Leiden: Brill, 2012

Reviewed by Amir Ashur

The Cairo Genizah – the hoard of manuscripts found in the Ben Ezra synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo) contains more than three hundred thousands documents covering more than thousand years of history – is by all means the most important source for the study of the history of Jews under Islam, and for the study of the relations between Jews and Muslim throughout the period, as was emphasized by S.D. Goitein repeatedly.  This vast amount of documents is kept in many collections all around the world. The largest collection is kept in Cambridge University Library – around two hundred thousands documents.

The Mosseri Collection was for many years hidden and inaccessible to scholars. A few years ago, the Collection was loaned to Cambridge University Library in order for it to be conserved, with a view to it being eventually deposited in the National Library of Israel, provided that certain conditions are fulfilled. The catalogue under review is the first attempt to prepare a comprehensive catalogue of the responsa fragments of this valuable and important collection. Indeed, it is the first work, to the best of my knowledge, to describe and publish a collection of responsa from any Genizah collection. As such, it should serve as a valuable contribution to the study of responsa, Halakhah and Genizah documents.

The catalogue contains seventy-seven documents. It is not a complete catalogue of all the responsa and related material in the Mosseri Collection. Thus, the data base of Geniza responsa based on Professor Mordechai A. Friedman’s identifications, which I prepared under his supervision as part of my work for the FGP (and which I supplemented), contains some additional 27 relevant class marks. We can assume that, after the Collection is fully conserved and analysed, this number might increase. But this catalogue can by no means be regarded as premature. Indeed, much has been accomplished.

Some of the discoveries revealed in this catalogue are very exciting: one of the oldest Ashkenazi manuscripts found in the Genizah, C. 7 (pp. 230–235); hitherto unknown responsa by Abraham Maimonides, C. 4 (pp. 211–219, see comments below); responsa by Isaac Alfasi, in their original Arabic version, C. 6 (pp. 225–229, see comments below). All three of these manuscripts were registered in my hand-list, but without their correct identification. We should, therefore, thank Glick and his team for revealing them to the scholarly public.

The catalogue follows the format of G. Khan, Arabic Legal and Administrative Documents in the Cambridge Genizah Collections (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993) – that is, a catalogue that includes a general descriptive text edition, translation (into Hebrew, if the text is in Judaeo-Arabic) and commentary. Thus the reader is given complete information on every manuscript. Furthermore, good quality photographs are placed beside the transcriptions for ease of comparison.

Each document is accompanied by introductory notes regarding the responsum’s topics, its place of origin, its language and paleography. The material is sorted chronologically by period: A. Responsa of Palestinian Geonim; B. Babylonian Geonim; C. Rishonim (11^th–15^th centuries) and D. Ahronim (16^th–18^th centuries). This method, although simple, is not free from errors. Thus Ephraim b. Shemariah appears under Palestinian Geonim (p. 11) and also under Babylonian Geonim (p. 63). Regarding the sorting of each section, I would prefer to see all the responsa attributed to one legal authority grouped together one after the other, e.g. responsa of Hayya Gaon appear in sections B. 4, 6, 18, and 20–25. It would have been better, in my opinion, to group them together. The same is true regarding both Moses and Abraham Maimonides.

The nature of some of the material is ambiguous, and many identifications of a text as a responsum can be uncertain. Glick correctly decided to include such instances in the catalogue. Still, in my opinion, a clear distinction regarding such identifications should be made. For example, document A. 3 appears to me to be a letter rather than a responsum. Glick’s description of this document is also ambiguous, referring to it in the ‘Topics’ section as ‘A portion of responsum[?]’, but in the content notes as a letter (‘this letter is not published there’).

Glick gives a general dating to each document, e.g. ‘11^th century’. In most cases we cannot give a more precise date, but, when the scribe is known, we can. For example, A. 1 (p. 3) is written by Solomon b. Judah and certainly dates to between 1025 and 1052 (as mentioned in the notes). In other places, however, Glick is more precise, e.g. D. 6 (p. 386) where the date ‘16^th century (c. 1540)’ is given. More examples will be given below.

The literature Glick uses is not always the most up to date. For example, in the few responsa attributed to Hayya Gaon, Glick could have consulted Zvi Gruner’s article רשימת תשובות רב האי גאון to determine whether they were written by Hayya Gaon or not. Although Gruner’s work is cited in the bibliography, it is not referred to in the body of the book. Another example of this may be found in the Hebrew section, where Glick refers to אלמרשד אלכאפי, תל אביב תשכ”א, although a new edition of this work was published in 2005 by Hadasa Shai. A third example can be found in C. 2, where Glick cites Poznanski and Mann on Isaac b. Israel Rosh ha-Gola, but does not use Gil, Ishmael, I, pp. 461–462.

In some descriptions, the language section is not complete: for example, in A. 3 (p. 11) and C. 35 ‘Hebrew’ and Judaeo-Arabic respectively should be added.

As previously mentioned, the book also contains a Hebrew section, in which additional information is given on each and every document published in this book. In most cases this information is useful, containing references to the Talmudic literature as well to other studies on the material. In one case, however, there is a difference between the data given in the Hebrew section and that in the English section: in his Hebrew comments on A. 5 Glick refers to one of the parties mentioned in the manuscript as חסאן בן מסכה, but in the English comments that appear following his edition, he correctly reads: חסאן בן מנשה. Such an error makes one wonder if the Hebrew section was proof-read at all, in comparison with the English section, which was apparently updated.

Glick’s team, in particular Dotan Arad and Dr. Zvi Stampfer who are both excellent Genizah scholars, were responsible for the copying, editing and translating of most of the material, and have produced editions and translations that are as reliable as can be expected from Genizah editions of this nature.

In summary, this catalogue makes an important contribution to the study of Halakhah and the Genizah. The editors of the series, Dr Ben Outhwaite and Dr Siam Bhayro, should be commended for the huge effort they have given in order to bring us a well-edited, handsome volume, and one that will be useful to many scholars in a variety of fields.

Despite some errors, the editions and translations are mostly very good. The interpretations and commentaries on the documents, however, could have been better. In most cases, Glick has done a decent job, but one is left at times with the feeling that something is missing and that the descriptions could be more precise.

I will now take the opportunity to comment on a few items to which I can add more data, alternative reading or translations, or give a different interpretation. A deeper analysis is beyond the scope of this review.

• Document A. 1, p. 4, n. 18: the small letters surrounding the signature of Solomon b. Judah contain the phrase ואנכי תולעת ולא איש (Psalms 22:7). For the custom of adding a motto in tiny letters to the signature see מ”ע פרידמן, ‘עיטורי חותמים ושיטה מיוחדת לציון תאריך’, תרביץ, מח (תשל”ט), עמ’ 160-163
• A. 4, p. 16, Content notes: Assaf’s explanation (cited by Glick) regarding the verse אות באות ומילה במילה is not correct, for this phrase simply means that the copy of the deed given in the responsum is accurate. For this see מ”ע פרידמן, ‘אות באות, מלה במלה’, לשוננו לעם, שלח (תשמ”ג), עמ’ 194-195
• B. 2: This responsum is on the same subject as C. 4, p. 46. The handwriting is similar too.
• B. 3: In my opinion this is a letter and not a responsum.
• B. 6: This leaf is written by the same scribe who wrote T-S NS J511–517, which contain a collection of responsa by Saadya Gaon. See R. Brody, A Hand-list of Rabbinic Manuscripts in the Cambridge Genizah Collection, I, Cambridge 1998. In the aforementioned data base of Geniza responsa there are several more leaves by this scribe, all containing Geonic responsa.
• B. 19: As Glick correctly comments, these are pedagogical questions, a well-known genre in Bible commentary, and one that can hardly be considered responsa.
• B. 20, p. 152. l. 6: Should be read ראובן נשא אשה (the last word is mistakenly omitted in the edition).
• B. 22-23: These items are written by Halfon b. Manasseh ha-Levi, a well-known scribe active between 1100–1138. The T-S Genizah Collection contains 15 other manuscripts with Geonic responsa that were copied by Halfon, e.g. T-S Misc. 28.186. Other fragments can be found in JTS and JRL collections.
• B. 24: According to Glick this manuscript is by the hand of Joseph b. Jacob ha-Bavli (Rosh ha-Seder), but in my opinion it is not his hand. Compare with C. 10, which is written in his own hand.
• C. 1: The document also includes Judaeo-Arabic, and this should be added to the description.
• C. 3: I will soon publish this responsum in the forthcoming קובץ-על-יד. My understanding of this document differs to that of Glick. It seems to me to be a page from a notebook of a student attending a lecture of R. Joseph ibn Migash. This manuscript was apparently written during R”I Migash’s lifetime (d. 1141). The reader should consult my publication and compare it to Glick’s edition.
• C. 4: A very important discovery of new responsa by Abraham Maimonides. However, this manuscript is not from the end of the 13^th century as stated in the description, as the scribe is well known from other documents, one of them dated 1201. Based on this dating we can assume that this manuscript was copied during Abraham Maimonides’ lifetime or soon after his death in 1237. In the content notes Glick comments ‘The handwriting of section כ”ו appears to be similar to section צ”ז …’ and this surely needs to be corrected to ‘the content of section …’
• C. 6: Another very important discovery appears in this manuscript. The final question here deals with the marriage of a female minor. We have very few references to the marriage of female minors, so this query provides a useful new reference on this subject. On child marriage seeא’ אשור, ‘שידוכין ואירוסין על-פי תעודות מן הגניזה הקהירית’, חיבור לשם קבלת התואר דוקטור לפילוסופיה, אוניברסיטת תל-אביב תשס”ז, pp. 162-172.
• C. 10: This manuscript is an autograph by Joseph b. Jacob Rosh ha-Seder.
• C. 13: I have identified a number of pages by the same scribe, containing responsa and other material. ENA 1338, a copy of an unknown query sent to R”I Migash, will soon be published by me in קובץ על יד. Another fragment written by the same scribe is found in Mosseri VII.122.2. In my opinion the hand is later than the 12^th century, and should be dated to the 13^th–14^th centuries.
• C. 16: In my opinion it is beyond doubt that this manuscript is written by Maimonides.
• C. 23: This document is written, to the best of my knowledge, by the hand of Moses b. Perahya (the grandson of Abraham Ibn Yiju, the famous India trader), the dayyan of al-Mahala. See D. Goitein & M. A. Friedman, India Traders of the Middle Ages: Documents from the Cairo Geniza (‘India Book’), Leiden–Boston 2007, p. 89 (where 1220–1234 should be corrected to 1220–1237). Glick’s note 2, on p. 305 should be corrected: the term הגדולה refers to al-Mahala al-Kabira, which is sometimes referred to in Genizah documents as מחלה הגדולה (see, e.g. TS 13J19.6)
• C. 33, p. 344, line 13: I suggest the reconstruction [אי הוה קיים אבוהון אי]ך הוה, for the reading of the final kaf is certain and cannot be read as a final nun.
• C. 34: This is a query sent to a group of scholars rather than to a single scholar. Another such example can be found in ENA NS 16.23, from the time of Abraham Maimonides.
• C. 36, Translation of line 3: פי יעקב אזוג ברחל ודכל בהא. For דכל בהא should be translated as כנס אותה, that is, entered to the marriage chamber with her (and not בא עליה, that is, had sexual relations with her).

Seride Teshuvot: A Descriptive Catalogue of Responsa Fragments from the Jacques Mosseri Collection in Cambridge University Library

Shmuel Glick et al.

Cambridge Genizah Studies 3; Leiden: Brill, 2012

Reviewed by Amir Ashur

The Cairo Genizah – the hoard of manuscripts found in the Ben Ezra synagogue in Fustat (Old Cairo) contains more than three hundred thousands documents covering more than thousand years of history – is by no means the most important source for the study of the history of Jews under Islam, and for the study of the relations between Jews and Muslim throughout the period, as was emphasized by S.D. Goitein repeatedly.  This vast amount of documents is kept in many collections all around the world. The largest collection is kept in Cambridge University Library – around two hundred thousands documents.

The Mosseri Collection was for many years hidden and inaccessible to scholars. A few years ago, the Collection was loaned to Cambridge University Library in order for it to be conserved, with a view to it being eventually deposited in the National Library of Israel, provided that certain conditions are fulfilled. The catalogue under review is the first attempt to prepare a comprehensive catalogue of the responsa fragments of this valuable and important collection. Indeed, it is the first work, to the best of my knowledge, to describe and publish a collection of responsa from any Genizah collection. As such, it should serve as a valuable contribution to the study of responsa, Halakhah and Genizah documents.

The catalogue contains seventy-seven documents. It is not a complete catalogue of all the responsa and related material in the Mosseri Collection. Thus, the data base of Geniza responsa based on Professor Mordechai A. Friedman’s identifications, which I prepared under his supervision as part of my work for the FGP (and which I supplemented), contains some additional 27 relevant class marks. We can assume that, after the Collection is fully conserved and analysed, this number might increase. But this catalogue can by no means be regarded as premature. Indeed, much has been accomplished.

Some of the discoveries revealed in this catalogue are very exciting: one of the oldest Ashkenazi manuscripts found in the Genizah, C. 7 (pp. 230–235); hitherto unknown responsa by Abraham Maimonides, C. 4 (pp. 211–219, see comments below); responsa by Isaac Alfasi, in their original Arabic version, C. 6 (pp. 225–229, see comments below). All three of these manuscripts were registered in my hand-list, but without their correct identification. We should, therefore, thank Glick and his team for revealing them to the scholarly public.

The catalogue follows the format of G. Khan, Arabic Legal and Administrative Documents in the Cambridge Genizah Collections (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993) – that is, a catalogue that includes a general descriptive text edition, translation (into Hebrew, if the text is in Judaeo-Arabic) and commentary. Thus the reader is given complete information on every manuscript. Furthermore, good quality photographs are placed beside the transcriptions for ease of comparison.

Each document is accompanied by introductory notes regarding the responsum’s topics, its place of origin, its language and paleography. The material is sorted chronologically by period: A. Responsa of Palestinian Geonim; B. Babylonian Geonim; C. Rishonim (11^th–15^th centuries) and D. Ahronim (16^th–18^th centuries). This method, although simple, is not free from errors. Thus Ephraim b. Shemariah appears under Palestinian Geonim (p. 11) and also under Babylonian Geonim (p. 63). Regarding the sorting of each section, I would prefer to see all the responsa attributed to one legal authority grouped together one after the other, e.g. Hai Gaon responsa appear in sections B. 4, 6, 18, and 20–25. It would have been better, in my opinion, to group them together. The same is true regarding both Moses and Abraham Maimonides.

The nature of some of the material is ambiguous, and many identifications of a text as a responsum can be uncertain. Glick correctly decided to include such instances in the catalogue. Still, in my opinion, a clear distinction regarding such identifications should be made. For example, document A. 3 appears to me to be a letter rather than a responsum. Glick’s description of this document is also ambiguous, referring to it in the ‘Topics’ section as ‘A portion of responsum[?]’, but in the content notes as a letter (‘this letter is not published there’).

Glick gives a general dating to each document, e.g. ‘11^th century’. In most cases we cannot give a more precise date, but, when the scribe is known, we can. For example, A. 1 (p. 3) is written by Solomon b. Judah and certainly dates to between 1025 and 1052 (as mentioned in the notes). In other places, however, Glick is more precise, e.g. D. 6 (p. 386) where the date ‘16^th century (c. 1540)’ is given. More examples will be given below.

The literature Glick uses is not always the most up to date. For example, in the few responsa attributed to Hai Gaon, Glick could have consulted Zvi Gruner’s article רשימת תשובות רב האי גאון to determine whether they were written by Hai Gaon or not. Although Gruner’s work is cited in the bibliography, it is not referred to in the body of the book. Another example of this may be found in the Hebrew section, where Glick refers to אלמרשד אלכאפי, תל אביב תשכ”א, although a new edition of this work was published in 2005 by Hadasa Shai. A third example can be found in C. 2, where Glick cites Poznanski and Mann on Isaac b. Israel Rosh ha-Gola, but does not use Gil, Ishmael, I, pp. 461–462.

In some descriptions, the language section is not complete: for example, in A. 3 (p. 11) and C. 35 ‘Hebrew’ and Judaeo-Arabic respectively should be added.

As previously mentioned, the book also contains a Hebrew section, in which additional information is given on each and every document published in this book. In most cases this information is useful, containing references to the Talmudic literature as well to other studies on the material. In one case, however, there is a difference between the data given in the Hebrew section and that in the English section: in his Hebrew comments on A. 5 Glick refers to one of the parties mentioned in the manuscript as חסאן בן מסכה, but in the English comments that appear following his edition, he correctly reads: חסאן בן מנשה. Such an error makes one wonder if the Hebrew section was proof-read at all, in comparison with the English section, which was apparently updated.

Glick’s team, in particular Dotan Arad and Dr. Zvi Stampfer who are both excellent Genizah scholars, were responsible for the copying, editing and translating of most of the material, and have produced editions and translations that are as reliable as can be expected from Genizah editions of this nature.

In summary, this catalogue makes an important contribution to the study of Halakhah and the Genizah. The editors of the series, Dr Ben Outhwaite and Dr Siam Bhayro, should be commended for the huge effort they have given in order to bring us a well-edited, handsome volume, and one that will be useful to many scholars in a variety of fields.

Despite some errors, the editions and translations are mostly very good. The interpretations and commentaries on the documents, however, could have been better. In most cases, Glick has done a decent job, but one is left at times with the feeling that something is missing and that the descriptions could be more precise.

I will now take the opportunity to comment on a few items to which I can add more data, alternative reading or translations, or give a different interpretation. A deeper analysis is beyond the scope of this review.

Document A. 1, p. 4, n. 18: the small letters surrounding the signature of Solomon b. Judah contain the phrase ואנכי תולעת ולא איש (Psalms 22:7). For the custom of adding a motto in tiny letters to the signature see מ”ע פרידמן, ‘עיטורי חותמים ושיטה מיוחדת לציון תאריך’, תרביץ, מח (תשל”ט), עמ’ 160-163

A. 4, p. 16, Content notes: Assaf’s explanation (cited by Glick) regarding the verse אות באות ומילה במילה is not correct, for this phrase simply means that the copy of the deed given in the responsum is accurate. For this see מ”ע פרידמן, ‘אות באות, מלה במלה’, לשוננו לעם, שלח (תשמ”ג), עמ’ 194-195

B. 2: This responsum is on the same subject as C. 4, p. 46. The handwriting is similar too.

B. 3: In my opinion this is a letter and not a responsum.

B. 6: This leaf is written by the same scribe who wrote T-S NS J511–517, which contain a collection of responsa by Saadya Gaon. See R. Brody, A Hand-list of Rabbinic Manuscripts in the Cambridge Genizah Collection, I, Cambridge 1998. In the aforementioned data base of Geniza responsa there are several more leaves by this scribe, all containing Geonic responsa.

B. 19: As Glick correctly comments, these are pedagogical questions, a well-known genre in Bible commentary, and one that can hardly be considered responsa.

B. 20, p. 152. l. 6: Should be read ראובן נשא אשה (the last word is mistakenly omitted in the edition).

B. 22-23: These items are written by Halfon b. Manasseh ha-Levi, a well-known scribe active between 1100–1138. The T-S Genizah Collection contains 15 other manuscripts with Geonic responsa that were copied by Halfon, e.g. T-S Misc. 28.186. Other fragments can be found in JTS and JRL collections.

B. 24: According to Glick this manuscript is by the hand of Joseph b. Jacob ha-Bavli (Rosh ha-Seder), but in my opinion it is not his hand. Compare with C. 10, which is written in his own hand.

C. 1: The document also includes Judaeo-Arabic, and this should be added to the description.

C. 3: I will soon publish this responsum in the forthcoming קובץ-על-יד. My understanding of this document differs to that of Glick. It seems to me to be a page from a notebook of a student attending a lecture of R. Joseph ibn Migash. This manuscript was apparently written during R”I Migash’s lifetime (d. 1141). The reader should consult my publication and compare it to Glick’s edition.

C. 4: A very important discovery of new responsa by Abraham Maimonides. However, this manuscript is not from the end of the 13^th century as stated in the description, as the scribe is well known from other documents, one of them dated 1201. Based on this dating we can assume that this manuscript was copied during Abraham Maimonides’ lifetime or soon after his death in 1237. In the content notes Glick comments ‘The handwriting of section כ”ו appears to be similar to section צ”ז …’ and this surely needs to be corrected to ‘the content of section …’

C. 6: Another very important discovery appears in this manuscript. The final question here deals with the marriage of a female minor. We have very few references to the marriage of female minors, so this query provides a useful new reference on this subject. On child marriage seeא’ אשור, ‘שידוכין ואירוסין על-פי תעודות מן הגניזה הקהירית’, חיבור לשם קבלת התואר דוקטור לפילוסופיה, אוניברסיטת תל-אביב תשס”ז, pp. 162-172.

C. 10: This manuscript is an autograph by Joseph b. Jacob Rosh ha-Seder.

C. 13: I have identified a number of pages by the same scribe, containing responsa and other material. ENA 1338, a copy of an unknown query sent to R”I Migash, will soon be published by me in קובץ על יד. Another fragment written by the same scribe is found in Mosseri VII.122.2. In my opinion the hand is later than the 12^th century, and should be dated to the 13^th–14^th centuries.

C. 16: In my opinion it is beyond doubt that this manuscript is written by Maimonides.

C. 23: This document is written, to the best of my knowledge, by the hand of Moses b. Perahya (the grandson of Abraham Ibn Yiju, the famous India trader), the dayyan of al-Mahala. See D. Goitein & M. A. Friedman, India Traders of the Middle Ages: Documents from the Cairo Geniza (‘India Book’), Leiden–Boston 2007, p. 89 (where 1220–1234 should be corrected to 1220–1237). Glick’s note 2, on p. 305 should be corrected: the term הגדולה refers to al-Mahala al-Kabira, which is sometimes referred to in Genizah documents as מחלה הגדולה (see, e.g. TS 13J19.6)

C. 33, p. 344, line 13: I suggest the reconstruction [אי הוה קיים אבוהון אי]ך הוה, for the reading of the final kaf is certain and cannot be read as a final nun.

C. 34: This is a query sent to a group of scholars rather than to a single scholar. Another such example can be found in ENA NS 16.23, from the time of Abraham Maimonides.

C. 36, Translation of line 3: פי יעקב אזוג ברחל ודכל בהא. For דכל בהא should be translated as כנס אותה, that is, entered to the marriage chamber with her (and not בא עליה, that is, had sexual relations with her).

a random Genizah fragment

In July we’ll be putting 900 fragments from the Mosseri Collection online in the Cambridge Digital Library for the first time. These fragments have not hitherto been available to scholars in any form, other than a poor microfilm copy made in the 70s, but have now been fully conserved, described and digitised. The Mosseri Collection is currently on loan in Cambridge University Library, where it is undergoing conservation.

Brilliant.

The IIS organised a panel presentation at the 45th Middle Eastern Studies Association (MESA) conference held in Washington DC, USA. The panel, entitled Fatimid Studies, continued on from the previous year’s panel, Approaches to Governance in the Fatimid Period, and reflected the Institute’s ongoing work in the fields of Ismaili and broader Shi‘i Studies.

The panel was chaired by IIS Co-Director, Dr Farhad Daftary, and organised by Professor Paul E. Walker, Deputy Director for Academic Programmes at the Centre for Middle Eastern Studies, University of Chicago.

The field of Fatimid studies has seen a surge in the availability of materials on Fatimid history, thought and material culture over the last twelve years. The work of researchers has made available critical editions of major and minor texts, annotated translations of existing and new sources, as well as studies on documents from the Cairo Geniza and doctrinal works by the Ismaili da‘wa in the Fatimid period. The recovery and analysis of elements of the material culture of the same era, particularly in art and architecture, has also been developing exponentially during this period. Thus, the principal purpose of the panel was to provide an assessment of these new resources produced over the last decade and to discuss the work that is currently being undertaken by scholars and institutions in the field.

Dr Shainool Jiwa’s presentation, entitled History in the Making: Reviewing the Study of Fatimid History, highlighted how the history of the Fatimids is as vast and varied as both the geographical span of the empire (909-1171 CE) and the social, religious and ethnographic diversity of its people. While Fatimid rule began in North Africa and expanded to Egypt and parts of Syria, its influence over the course of its two and a half century rule radiated across Iraq, Iran, India, Hijaz and Yemen.

Yet, for a variety of reasons, the Fatimids remain relatively understudied in comparison to their peer dynasties such as the Abbasids and the Umayyads of Spain, as well as the successor dynasties in Egypt, such as the Ayyubids and the Mamluks. Nonetheless, Dr Jiwa elaborated, the turn of the century has witnessed the increasing recovery of primary sources, which have begun to attract scholarly attention. She discussed the growing pool of annotated editions as well as secondary studies which bring a new focus on facets of Fatimid history.

Dr Jiwa’s presentation was followed by Professor Paul E. Walker’s paper, which discussed Ismaili Doctrinal Works from the Fatimid Period: How Much Have We Now Recovered? Professor Walker began by explaining that for far too long Ismaili doctrinal writings produced by its da‘wa in the Fatimid period have remained largely inaccessible, even after Wladimir Ivanow and Ismail K. Poonawala published detailed lists of what might exist. However, according to Professor Walker, the situation is now not nearly as dire, thanks in part to the efforts of a growing number of scholars in the field and the efforts of various institutions including The Institute of Ismaili Studies.

Professor Walker discussed the Institute’s holdings of an extensive collection of works in manuscript form, many acquired fairly recently and reflected in their published catalogues. Professor Walker also highlighted how the work of the IIS and others is starting to replace older, often untrustworthy, printed versions with critical scholarly editions, some accompanied by translations.

This was followed by a paper by Dr Fahmida Suleman of the British Museum, who was unfortunately not able to travel to the conference. Her paper, entitled Princes, Potters and Pioneers: The Art and Material Culture of the Fatimid Period, was read by Prof. Walker. Dr Suleman’s paper begins by noting that in the year 1998 a renaissance was witnessed in the study of Fatimid art and architecture as a result of a conference in Paris, L’Egypte Fatimide: Son Art et Son Histoire, and two accompanying exhibitions on Fatimid art in Paris and Vienna as well as the publication of the Victoria and Albert Museum’s collection of Fatimid art.

The paper then reviews the developments since the late 1990s and whether publications, such as Professor Jonathan Bloom’s Arts of the City Victorious: Islamic Art and Architecture in Fatimid North Africa and Egypt, have reinvigorated the topic. It also examines the new sources that have come to light in the last decade to assist in the re-interpretation of older theories or to establish new ones, and whether Fatimid art is finally being accepted as a mainstream topic in the study of the arts and material culture of Egyptian, Mediterranean and Muslim civilisations.

Finally, Professor Marina Rustow, of Johns Hopkins University, presented on Fatimid Administrative Documents from the Cairo Geniza: The Status Quaestionis. Professor Rustow reported how hundreds of Fatimid chancery documents, fragmentary and whole, found their way into the Cairo Geniza of the medieval Syro-Palestinian synagogue at Fustat. Several dozen have now been published (mainly by S. D. Goitein, S. M. Stern, and Geoffrey Khan), whilst more have been identified and many still remain to be discovered.

Though a good proportion of these documents concern Jewish individuals or groups, Professor Rustow noted that a significant number relate to Christians and Muslims. Professor Rustow’s presentation also surveyed existing publications on the subject, with glances at comparable editions of material from the Melkite monastery of St. Catherine in Sinai, the Qaraite synagogue in Cairo, and other Fatimid-era archives. She also discussed document typologies (petitions, decrees, internal chancery directives), their physical characteristics and uses, and offered some explanations as to how non-Jewish administrative material may have entered the Geniza. In her conclusion, she discussed the significance of these documents for Fatimid and Middle Eastern history.

The panel, which was well attended by scholars and researchers, was complemented by a display of IIS publications as part of MESA’s book exhibition.

Related pages on the IIS Website:

Joseph Roth , Daša Drndić, Ludmila Ultiskaya , Umberto Eco, The Golem and more …

“I have nothing to do with the landscape, nothing to do with the sky. Nor anything to do with the technology, with the paving stones and construction of the buildings, with the society, with the art.”

- Joseph Roth on Germany, from Joseph Roth: A Life in Letters

Read the full article at Literalab on Czech Position

Photo – 1) Page from the Tripartite Mahzor, early 14th century, Germany, 2) from The Golem

The latest ‘Research on Religion’ podcast went up a few days ago with the Cairo Genizah as its topic.  Give it a listen here.

We begin with a discussion of just what a genizah is and why Jews consider writing to be so sacred that it must either be buried in a cemetery or collected in a special “attic” or antechamber known as a genizah. Rabbi Glickman then discusses a very special genizah that is located in the Ben Ezra Synagogue in Cairo, Egypt. He recounts his own visit there in 2010 to describe what he saw, and then takes us back on a historical journey to the late 19th century when Rabbi Solomon Schechter stumbles upon fragments of an ancient and valuable manuscript known as the Ben Sirah document. This discovery came to Schechter’s attention via his association with two adventuring sisters. We review the life of Solomon Schechter and then detail his journey to Cairo to “re-discover” the voluminous contents of the Cairo Genizah and bring them back to Cambridge University, where they have been the center of investigation for over a century at the Taylor-Schechter Genizah Research Unit. Our discussion then moves on to some of the mundane (e.g., wedding certificates) and incredible discoveries that were contained within the nearly 200,000 documents shipped to England. The latter finds include the Damascus manuscript, heretofore unknown writings of Maimonides, and some Jewish hymns. Along this journey we also reflect upon the vibrancy of Judeo-Arabic culture, the significance of historical documents, and why religious pluralism can often be a good thing. Recorded: November 4, 2011.

If you haven’t read the story of the Giblew twins (who alerted Schechter to the potential of the Cairo Genizah, amongst other things), then you should. It’s worth it for bits such as this: ‘They discovered the upper texts concerning female saints had been copied out and signed by John, the Recluse of Beth Mari… This martyrology was, according to Agnes, “of a very racy nature” … [and] included the “virtuous acts” of “Pelagia, the harlot of Antioch” [...] and the “martyrdom of Theodota, the Harlot”. [...] Agnes concluded that they threw “a curious light on the monastic life at its prime. They have apparently been well read, perhaps by generations of Sinai monks, if we may judge from the thumb-stained margins”.’

Theodota the Harlot! Now there’s an awesome Saint’s name!

An interview with the authors of a new book called Sacred Trash brought my attention to the Cairo Geniza.
The Cairo Geniza is a collection of some 280,000 documents found in the genizah, or hiding place, of the Ben Ezra Synagogue in what is now Cairo. Because the documents were written in Hebrew, which is considered God’s writing, they could not be destroyed. They were simply put away, although some were buried in the Jewish cemetery. The documents date back to 870 AD. The last additions to the genizah were made in the 1880s, right before Western scholars got their hands on the treasure and blew the whole thing wide open.

From the articles I’ve read and the interview I heard, it seems that the story of the Cairo Geniza is always told through the focal point of the moment in 1896. That is when Solomon Schechter, a Romanian born Jewish scholar (who would later become one of the founding figures of Conservative Judaism in America) learned about the genizah, the hiding place, and brought it to the attention of the West. The Geniza, meaning the collection of documents, is now broken up among several European and American libraries, with the majority of it in Cambridge, where Schechter worked.

The documents contain everything from medieval Jewish poetry, tracts written by famous scholars, letters to the elders of the community, to legal documents and private letters. They were all written in Hebrew script, but most are in Aramaic. And since the documents cover trade with other communities, there are documents from Egypt, Palestine, Lebanon, Syria, Tunisia, Sicily, and there is mention of Morocco, Rouen in France, Kiev in Ukraine and India.

Not only have scholars found the writings of Maimonides and Saadia Gaon, both rabbis and philosophers, and the poetry of Yehuda Halevi, but the Geniza mentiones 35,000 individuals, 200 prominent families, 450 professions.

…in a word, an entire civilization.

1. Lost Versions of Havdalah is about a session Elie Kaunfer taught about a longer version of Havdalah preserved in the Talmud and in the Cairo Genizah.
2. Miscellaneous is about the continuing Askenazification of my speech, blog sightings, news about my book, networking, nusach Hadar, Kiddushin bishtar and Joe Rosenstein.
3. Sunday musical Mincha-Maariv with BZ is a review of the Sunday afternoon-evening service with guitar and awesomeness led by fellow Jewschooler and Mah Rabu blogger BZ.
4. Mahzor Lev Shalem with one of its editors is about a session about MLS, the new Conservative machzor and my favorite machzor. The session was taught by Rob Scheinberg, one of the members of the committee that created MLS.
5. Debbie Friedman and the Reform Jews is about Havdalah at Limmud NY 2011, the lack of Reform Jews at Limmud NY and the music of Debbie Friedman.
6. An excuse to get four smart Jews to talk to each other is about a panel that featured a discussion between a Reform rabbinical student, a black hat rabbi, a Renewal rabbi and a recently married woman with an eclectic religious background about Shabbat.
7. Hey, Nakedhead! The David A.M. Wilensky Story is about a deranged man who said “Hey, nakedhead!” to me in the middle of the Haftarah on Shabbat. It’s also in the running for the new name of this blog.
8. Pirkei Avot 2:15 is about Pirkei Avot 2:15. I mostly wrote it for the benefit of Shir Yaakov, who gets a lot of shout-outs on this blog today.
9. Communal Kiddush is about why having communal Kiddush on Friday night at Limmud NY is a mistake from the pluralism perspective and includes a proposal for something different we could do instead.
10. More on communal ritual issues–electronics on Shabbat etc. is about issues of communal space and ritual observance at Limmud NY–again, from the perspective of wanting to enhance the pluralistic atmosphere of Limmud NY.
11. Yes, I went to a Renewal service. And yes, I liked it. is a review a Renewal-style service I went to on Friday night. Spoiler alert: I give the service three and a half ballpoint pens.
12. The ballpoint pen saga’s poetic conclusion and some other observations from a Hadar service is about the beautiful, joyous conclusion to the Hadar ballpoint situation and about how I got to have the coolest aliyah of the whole year. And about how Ethan Tucker reads Torah like a badass.
13. Shabbat as labor law and An alternate Kiddush are about a session from Will Friedman about how Shabbat is a labor law and about how he thinks Deut. 5 should be used for Kiddush.
14. A panel of experts on how college students should give Tzedakah is about a session called “‘Just’ Giving,” in which some interesting thoughts about how to give when you don’t have a lot to give came out.