A Rare Document: When Haredim Proposed That Religious Zionists Join Their Draft Exemption

A fascinating piece of correspondence found in the archive of Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria tells the story of the beginnings of the historic debate between Haredim and religious Zionists regarding enlistment in the IDF.

Photo: Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria, courtesy of the family. Background: Letter from Rabbi Meir Karelitz to Rabbi Neria, the Moshe Tzvi Neria Archive at the National Library of Israel. This record was made available thanks to the generosity of the Morris and Beverly Baker Foundation.

It was the beginning of 1948, just over a month since the fateful UN vote on partitioning the Holy Land into Jewish and Arab states. The Jewish public in the Land of Israel was busy preparing to establish the state, preparations which were taking place while the early battles of the War of Independence were already underway. It was in this historic moment that Agudat Israel and Poalei Agudat Israel – the two most prominent Haredi political movements – called for enlisting Haredi and religious youth in the national army (the IDF) that was just coming into existence. Except, that is, for women and yeshivah students.

Both within the Haredi community itself and between the Haredim and the religious Zionist community, the main debate revolved around the following issues: Would women be exempt from mandatory enlistment or from any sort of enlistment whatsoever? Would yeshivah students be exempted or be forced to serve part-time? Would yeshivah students be sent into combat? Or perhaps only receive training with service limited to auxiliary forces? And who would be considered a yeshivah student?

A fascinating document from the archive of Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria kept at the National Library of Israel provides a glimpse into the beginnings of the historic debate between Haredim and religious Zionists regarding service in the Israeli army – a debate which continues to this day.

The Protagonists

Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria was born in Lodz, then part of the Russian Empire, in 1913. He studied in his youth in yeshivahs in the cities of Shklov and Minsk, in an era when yeshivah studies were considered subversive in the formally atheist Soviet Union. He made Aliyah to the Land of Israel before his 18th birthday with the aid of Rabbi Abraham Isaac Hacohen Kook, and began studying at Yeshivat Merkaz Harav. At the same time, he was also one of the leaders of the religious Zionist Bnei Akiva youth movement.

In late 1939, Rabbi Neria established the yeshivah in Kfar Haroeh, the first such yeshivah in the Bnei Akiva educational network. In the early years, the sole focus at Kfar Haroeh was on religious studies, just like Haredi yeshivot. Rabbi Neria’s views on education at the yeshivah were famously summed up in his quip: “Hairs will grow on the palm of my hand before secular studies are taught at the yeshivah.” However, by the end of the decade, pressure from parents of students who joined forces with Rabbi Avraham Zuckerman, another member of the yeshivah’s leadership, led to secular studies such as math and English being taught as well.

The yeshivah at Kfar Haroeh was run like a typical and traditional yeshivah, but it was also part of the Bnei Akiva movement and followed its principles and ideals: In addition to religious study, yeshivah students also worked in agriculture. The yeshivah even sent one of its rabbis, Rabbi Mordechai Breuer, to the British detention camps in Cyprus, where Jews caught while attempting to immigrate covertly were detained, to establish an extension of the yeshivah there. The yeshivah’s internal atmosphere was much the same: Students enjoyed broad autonomy, which included the right to receive new students. They frequently conducted meetings and assemblies, and the student council was partner to administrative decisions.

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Yeshivah students working in gardening at the Bnei Akiva yeshivah at Kfar Haroeh. This item is part of Archive Network Israel, and is made available that to the collaborative efforts of Yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage, and the National Library of Israel

Rabbi Meir Karelitz was born in 1875 in Kosava in Belarus. He studied in Lithuanian yeshivahs, married the daughter of the elder Rabbi of Vilna and served as a Rabbi in the town of Lechovitch.

He was the brother of the Chazon Ish, had close ties with the leading Haredi rabbis of Europe in the period leading up to WWII, and was among the founders of the Vaad Yeshivot (yeshivah committee) of Poland.

Just before the war broke out, he made Aliyah to the Land of Israel with his entire family, where he continued to be very active in leading the Haredi public and establishing its main institutions – the independent education stream, the Moetzet Gedolei Hatorah (council of leading Torah scholars), and the most important institution for our story – the local Vaad Yeshivot in what would soon be the State of Israel.

“We have come to an agreement with the institutions”

On January 1, 1948, Rabbi Meir Karelitz sent a letter to the head of the yeshivah at Kfar Haroeh, Rabbi Moshe Tzvi Neria. In his letter, Rabbi Karelitz spoke of a temporary arrangement formed with the Zionist national institutions regarding the draft of yeshivah students, an arrangement which was valid for 1948. At the end of the letter, Rabbi Karelitz suggested Rabbi Neria send him – if he was interested – a list of his yeshivah students, so that they could be included among those exempted from the draft.

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Rabbi Meir Karelitz

Rabbi Meir Karelitz

7 Shevat 5708

My friend the Rabbi R. M.Tz. Neria, may he live a good long life, amen

[…] I wish to inform [you] that we have come to an agreement with the institutions, regarding the draft of the yeshivah students according to the following formula: The yeshivah students appearing in the lists approved by the three leaders of the yeshivot, are exempt from service in the army (in full or partial drafts).

b. The management of the yeshivot must provide capable students with training in self-defense, according to the orders and instructions of the high command.

c. This arrangement will be considered a temporary arrangement for the [Hebrew] year of 5708 and will come for renewed discussion at the beginning of the year of 5709. It may not be cancelled but by a new agreement.

At the assembly of the yeshivot leaders last Thursday it was decided: A yeshivah student is anyone that is a regular student at the yeshivah and whose Torah is his craft, as it has always been in the yeshivot, and who studies and observes all the orders of the yeshivah.

The leaders of the yeshivot from Petah Tikvah, Ponevezh and Slonim were chosen to the committee of the three yeshivot leaders. The yeshivot must provide notification if any student leaves the yeshivot – to the aforementioned committee of yeshivot leaders. If the management of Yeshivat Kfar Haroeh has in mind to join the aforementioned, may forgive me … and immediately send a list of students of draft age to that committee to the address: Tel Aviv, Montefiore 39, Poalei Agudat Israel, for … the committee.

His friend, respectfully,

Meir Karelitz

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Letter from Rabbi Meir Karelitz to Rabbi Neria regarding the draft of yeshivah students, the Moshe Tzvi Neria Archive, the National Library of Israel. This record was made available thanks to the generosity of the Morris and Beverly Baker Foundation.

“We are interested in including them in the campaigns of the armies of Israel”

In many cases, archives only contain the letters received by the owner of the archive and not their own response, but in this case Rabbi Neria wrote the draft of his response on the back of the original letter, preserving it for posterity.

In his response, Rabbi Neria rejected Rabbi Karelitz’s proposal politely but firmly. Rabbi Neria did agree that yeshivah students needed to be exempt from a full draft, but when it came to part-time drafts, his view was the opposite:

For

The Gaon Muvhak [the outstanding genius]

My teacher and mentor Meir Karelitz, may he live a good long life, amen

Blessings and greetings to you,

[…] forgive me for the lateness of my response to his letter. Illness and distractions delayed me until now.

As to the actual matter, while we indeed agree that yeshivah students should be exempted from a complete draft, regarding a partial draft it seems that we ourselves should to be interested in including them. Both for internal spiritual reasons and also for the sake of raising the honor of Torah and sanctifying the name of Heaven in public.

Procuring a list of our students at draft age is therefore unnecessary since as noted we are interested in including them in the campaigns of the armies of Israel, and in their war [against] the hand of an enemy poised against them.

Many thanks [for your] appeal and interest.

With great respect and honor

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Draft of Rabbi Neria’s response to Rabbi Karelitz regarding the draft of yeshivah students, the Moshe Tzvi Neria Archive, the National Library of Israel. This record was made available thanks to the generosity of the Morris and Beverly Baker Foundation

Rabbi Neria’s archive contains no sign of any continued correspondence between the two, and we don’t know if they continued to discuss the draft issue. We do, however, know that with the escalation of the War of Independence, many members of the religious Zionist community enlisted in the army – some in separate religious units and others in regular IDF units.

Rabbi Neria’s yeshivah at Kfar Haroeh sent most of its graduates to serve in the army. Rabbi Neria accompanied them and supported them, even writing the anthem of the 7th Brigade in which the students served.

76 years have passed since that correspondence, but the worldviews reflected therein have hardly changed.

The Haredi Soldiers Who Served in Israel’s War of Independence

For seven months, Haredi yeshiva students who served in "Gdud Tuvia" (Tuvia’s Battalion) proved that Torah study and IDF service could go hand in hand. Rare documents describe the profound reflections of those who viewed their military service as a sacred mission.

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A group of Haredi recruits during training. Photo: Fred Csasznik, IDF and Defense Establishment Archives

370 out of 900 reported for duty.

These were the enlistment numbers for Haredi Yeshiva students shortly after the establishment of the State of Israel. 270 received medical exemptions. 260 received exemptions on spiritual grounds. The rest, under directives given by leading rabbis, enlisted in the struggle to defend the fledgling state in its War of Independence. This enlistment was the result of an agreement between the yeshivas and the IDF enlistment offices: outstanding students would be exempted, and the conditions of enlistment would allow recruits from the yeshivas to continue studying Torah during their military service.

It was Tuvia Bier, a former Haganah member, who gathered the young Haredi recruits and gave them a home – a new battalion for yeshiva students. Bier was so dedicated to these soldiers that the battalion was later named Gdud Tuvia (Tuvia’s Battalion) after him. For seven months, the yeshiva students worked on setting up and strengthening fortifications in bombarded Jerusalem, simply because there was no time to provide proper training in anything else. They weren’t sent to the front lines because they hadn’t learned to operate firearms and also because of concerns that the world of Torah study would be destroyed if they were to perish in battle.

They worked one-to-two days a week on fortifications and spent the rest of their time studying Torah. They did most of their work at night, both for security reasons and to avoid disrupting their study routines at yeshiva.

The battalion was active for seven months before being disbanded. Many praised it, but many others mocked the focus on fortification work, which they perceived as a means to avoid combat service. People commended the Haredi soldiers’ willingness to sacrifice their lives for the defense of their homeland. Still, some wondered whether the work carried out by the battalion truly justified the disruptions in Torah study.

But what was going through the soldiers’ heads? How did they view their service? Did they believe in the righteousness of the path they had taken?

The Fortress

Like many other military units, the soldiers of Gdud Tuvia produced their own magazine. They called it Hamivtzar (“The Fortress”), since fortifications accounted for the majority of their work. In total, they managed to produce two issues, which were each copied and distributed among the battalion’s soldiers, providing them a platform where they could read, study, and even express themselves. The two issues of Hamivtzar are preserved in the IDF and Defense Establishment Archives, and they offer us insight into what the soldiers were thinking and feeling at the time.

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The cover of Issue No. 2 of Hamivtzar (“The Fortress”), 1948. Courtesy of the IDF and Defense Establishment Archives.

The Dilemma

The soldiers from the yeshivas struggled with the question of their enlistment. It is as true today as it was back then. Was it right for them to serve in the army? Is it appropriate for yeshiva students to set aside the study of Torah for the sake of fortifying Jerusalem?

This question was asked in print in Hamivtzar, by a writer who identified himself as “M.S.”:

“Despite all the doubts, despite all the questions burning through every yeshiva student’s mind: Is this even my duty at all? Am I obligated to serve in any role in the war effort beyond my usual role as a yeshiva student, which is no less crucial than any other military role? Moreover, am I allowed to, even momentarily, leave the beit midrash, the spiritual fortress of the Torah of Israel that protects us in every generation?”

One page after this, the answer appears:

“This is the duty of every Jew in general, and our duty as yeshiva students in particular. We are the next link of the golden chain of the Torah of Israel, in action and deed. We are pulling the chariot of the people up a treacherous slope towards the pinnacle of the hoped-for redemption. We are the ones! This is our contemporary duty!”

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A group of Haredi recruits during training. Photo: IDF and Defense Establishment Archives

How irreconcilable was this tension?

Throughout all the texts in Hamivtzar, the yeshiva students emphasize that despite the mission they have now undertaken, they will never for a moment forget their primary task – to study the Torah. This is reiterated in the editorial section of the first issue ofHamivtzar.

“Our role so far has been fortification works, and indeed it is not an easy task. We require significant activity and heightened dedication, and at times, even significant risk, to fulfill this duty… However, precisely because of the importance and value of this task, we must not forget the essence, that the task imposed upon us should never lead us to neglect our primary role, which is the study and observance of the commandments of the Torah.”

The answer to the dilemma is not definitive. Some of the writers viewed their military service as a mission, even a necessary step in the redemption of Israel. Others were content with doing what needed to be done under the circumstances. Some of them fulfilled their missions mainly because “the rabbis instructed it.”

We’ll conclude this chapter with some moving words written by a certain “Mordechai”, under the title Sh’ma Yisrael [“Hear Ye, O Israel”], who viewed IDF service not only as a temporary necessity but as a true mission.

“Students of Torah, dwellers of the beit midrash, oarsmen in the sea of Talmud, a tribe of priests whose generous spirit led them to take part in our liberation struggle, these are the anointed priests who must bring the word of God into the Israeli military camp. You are soldiers of Hashem, you must raise your voice on high, to restore the pure faith in the Eternal One of Israel who will not disappoint. For your eyes have seen what He has done for us when we stood few against many – many soldiers and many weapons – and we saw His greatness and wonders, it is upon you to illuminate with the light of your Torah the hearts of our soldiers who dedicate their lives for the sanctity of the nation and homeland.”

What Next?

On the surface, the pilot program of Gdud Tuvia seems to have been a failure. Ever since, those opposed to the enlistment of Haredi Jews in the IDF have had the upper hand. Even today, decades later, the debate over the enlistment of yeshiva students remains heated and volatile. Just as it was back then.

But did the project truly fail? To a large extent, the ideas of Gdud Tuvia have served as the foundation for the Hesder Yeshiva-military service programs and IDF units like Netzah Yehuda that are operational today. Perhaps the battalion’s principles can still be implemented in one form or another in future programs as well. “Dad didn’t grasp the enormity of the historical moment in real time; he simply did what he did because he thought it was the right thing to do,” recounts Kobi Bier, son of Tuvia, the commander of the yeshiva student battalion. “I think with a bit of goodwill, we can resolve the intense debate over the enlistment of Haredi Jews by using this model. We can set a certain percentage of outstanding Torah students, grant them exemptions, and we can find suitable solutions for the rest. I understand the concerns, but just as we saw with Gdud Tuvia, solutions can always be found. There’s no need to fear this.”

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Tuvia Bier, commander of the yeshiva student battalion

Further Reading (Hebrew):

ההסדרניקים של תש”ח by Aharon Kornfeld

When the Farhud Came to Be’eri: October 7 and the Legacy of an Iraqi Pogrom

“We made Aliyah from Iraq to Israel so that Arabs wouldn't be able to enter Jewish homes and murder us,” said Kibbutz Be'eri members who survived the pogrom known as the Farhud. In Be'eri, founded in part by Iraqi immigrants, there is a monument to the victims of the Farhud, suffered by the Jews of Iraq over 80 years ago. They couldn’t know that years later, their children and grandchildren would face a similar horror – but this time, in the Jewish state.

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The Farhud pogrom in Iraq, from the Yad Ben Zvi Archive. Picture of Yaakov Tzemach ob”m, a Farhud survivor who became a member of Kibbutz Be'eri, with his grandson, Shachar Tzemach ob”m, who was killed as a member of Be'eri's civilian emergency defense squad on October 7. Photo from a family album.

Every Shavuot eve, Yaakov Tzemach would tell his family and Kibbutz Be’eri members the story of the Farhud, the brutal pogrom carried out against the Jews of Iraq during the holiday in 1941. His family survived the massacre solely thanks to a neighbor, an older Muslim woman who physically blocked the way to their house and prevented the rioters from entering.

The Farhud, Baghdad 1941. (yad Yitzhak Ben Zvi Archive)
The Farhud of Baghdad, 1941. From the Yad Ben Zvi Archive.

“We made Aliyah from Iraq to Israel so that Arabs wouldn’t be able to enter Jewish homes and murder us,” Tzemach explained to his kibbutz comrades and his family. After surviving the Farhud, he joined HeChalutz (“The Pioneer”), a Zionist youth movement, and made Aliyah to Israel to establish a home in Be’eri.

Over seventy years later, one of Yaakov’s sons, Doron, told me in tears how he recalled this quote on October 7 as he was hiding for many hours in the safe room of his home in the kibbutz. Shachar Tzemach, Doron’s son and Yaakov’s grandson, was part of Be’eri’s civilian emergency defense squad that Saturday. He took part in a heroic and desperate defensive battle for many hours, before he was eventually killed.

שחר צמח מתוך אלבום פרטי
Shachar Tzemach ob”m. From a family album. “The picture which most reflects who he was,” according to his father Doron.

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The Farhud was an antisemitic pogrom which took place in Iraq on the eve of the festival of Shavuot, 1941. Taking place over the course of a few days, rioters looted Jewish homes and shops, while Jews in a number of Iraqi cities were cruelly murdered. The descriptions of survivors are horrific [WARNING: GRAPHIC – Y.I.]. They told of babies whose hands and feet were cut off in order to remove golden jewelry that had been hidden on their bodies. They witnessed acts of rape and abductions of young women who were never seen again.

קבר האחים של נרצחי הפרהוד בבגדאד, מתוך הספר עיראק, בעריכת חיים סעדון
Monument to the mass grave of the Farhud’s victims in Baghdad. From: Iraq, Haim Saadon (ed) [Hebrew]. There was no inscription on the monument, whose unique form was that of a semi-cylinder.

The riots sped up the process of Iraqi Jewry’s departure and immigration to the Land of Israel with the aid of activists sent by the Zionist leadership based in the Holy Land. Professor Esther Meir-Glitzenstein, head of the Research Institute at the Babylonian Jewry Heritage Center, explains that during this period, the kibbutz movement played a central role in Zionist activity in the Diaspora. The movement believed that Iraqi Jewry could play a significant part in the Zionist settlement of the country. The idea was to prepare Jewish-Iraqi youths for immigration and to provide training in skills that would be required in establishing new pioneering communes. From 1942, hundreds of young Iraqi Jews headed to the Land of Israel, with some of them forming settlement groups or joining training farms, where they waited for approval to go and establish new communities.

On the eve of Yom Kippur 1946, a settlement group of Jewish-Iraqi immigrants, who were known as the “Babylonian” group within the HeChalutz youth movement, realized their dream. Be’eri was originally established near Wadi Nahabir, a few miles west of the kibbutz’s location today, as one of 11 different settlement points that were set up that day, in a famous coordinated effort known as the “11 points plan”. Three settlement groups took part in the founding of Be’eri: one from the HaNoar HaOved movement, one from HaTzofim Bet, and “the Babylonians” – two groups of native-born Jews and one group of Jewish-Iraqi immigrants.

חברי הגרעין הבבלי
Members of the “Babylonian” settlement group being trained at Alonim in 1946, shortly before settling the lands in Nahabir. From a book on Yoav Goral, native of Baghdad and co-founder of Be’eri, p. 16 [Hebrew]

Shortly after breaking ground in Be’eri, some of the “Babylonians” were asked to return to Iraq on behalf of the Zionist movement. There, they worked as counselors in the youth groups, preparing additional young men and women to make Aliyah.

Yaakov Tzemach was one of these young Iraqi Jews trained by the “Babylonians”. He was a member of the HeChalutz youth movement in Baghdad and he and his friends worked together to support the pioneering efforts taking place in the Land of Israel which they had long dreamed of reaching:

“We collected money, our allowances, so that they could build a club for the pioneers in Be’eri. We didn’t go to the movies, drink juice, or take the bus to school for months. We collected the money and gave it to the movement to build a club in Nahabir. A kibbutz of veterans of the movement – an example and a model for us.”

From From the Same Village – Kibbutz Members and Families Speak of Bereavement in Kibbutz Be’eri [Hebrew] p. 18.

Later, after joining the IDF, Yaakov was part of the Israeli army’s Nahal agricultural settlement program, which sent a group to help strengthen Kibbutz Be’eri in the early 1950s.

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Yaakov Tzemach ob”m (right), survivor of the Farhud, Shachar Tzemach ob”m (center) killed on October 7, with one of the family girls in his lap, and Doron Tzemach (left), member of Kibbutz Be’eri. From a family album.

When you understand how the kibbutz was founded and the Jewish history woven through the story of this southern Israeli community, you discover the amazing secret of Be’eri – its diverse mixture of people.

The Iraqi immigrants, many of whom were well-educated, enriched the life of the kibbutz and contributed to the culture and knowledge of its young native-born Sabra members, some of whom barely graduated high school. Today, members of the kibbutz laugh as they recall how the educated immigrants contrasted with the Sabras, who were more concerned with the movement and the running of the kibbutz than the homework they were given at school.

The cooking in the dining hall was also influenced by the immigrants from Iraq: “even the gefilte fish was done in Mizrahi style,” recalled the 80-year-old Avraham Dvori (Manchar), who was born to an Iraqi family and who came to the kibbutz at age eight, where his older brother was already set up. Manchar was a member of Be’eri’s first school class, the “Eshel” group.

He stayed on the kibbutz his whole life, and his five children and 15 grandchildren also live there. He tells of how the Iraqi family that adopted him in the kibbutz only spoke Hebrew. “I entirely forgot the Arabic I knew from home,” he recalled. Manchar, who recently returned to Be’eri along with some 100 veterans and young kibbutz members, told us of the significance of Be’eri for him: “We have members from over 30 countries of origin. Everyone is mixed with everyone, this is the Land of Israel for me. This is what gives the kibbutz a sense of warmth.”

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HeChalutz counselors in Baghdad, 1950. From a book on Yoav Goral, native of Baghdad and co-founder of Be’eri, p. 13 [Hebrew]

The close ties between Kibbutz Be’eri and Iraqi Jewry were further cemented in 2002. Manchar was then the head of the Eshkol Regional Council, which includes Be’eri. Two years previously, during a routine tour for guests visiting the region, Mordechai Bibi, a former member of the Knesset and one of the leaders of the Babylonian immigrants’ organization, turned to Manchar and gave him a crumbling letter from 1945:

“I hereby confirm that members of the HeChalutz movement in Babylon collected donations amounting to 3,500 dinars for the planting of a forest in memory of the murdered of the Farhud.”

On the envelope, Yosef Weitz, Chairman of the Jewish National Fund during the pre-state era, wrote that a kibbutz was about to be established on the lands of Nahabir and that it would include a group of Iraqi members of the HeChalutz movement. There, he decided, a forest would be planted in memory of the victims of the Farhud.

Manchar picked up the gauntlet and made sure the plan was finally implemented – many decades after Weitz’s decision was taken. The monument which was established is modest, its shape resembling that of the monument set up by the Jewish community in Baghdad to mark the location of a mass grave for victims of the Farhud in the city’s Jewish cemetery. The Baghdad monument was later destroyed by the Iraqi government. The monument in Be’eri, by contrast, lies next to the Be’eri forest. A playground, a water fountain, bathrooms, and shaded places to sit can be found next to it, enabling visitors to come and enjoy the scenery in the beautiful spring months. On October 7, the forest near the monument was used by Hamas terrorists as a staging area before moving to attack Be’eri and other nearby communities.

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Monument at Be’eri Forest in memory of the Farhud pogrom, 2024. Photo: Yisrael Neta

“We were taught that the civilian settlement determines the boundaries of the State of Israel,” Manchar said, “and it was therefore clear to me that I’d be returning here. Everyone should do what they can, when they can. It’s clear to me that no-one else will rebuild the kibbutz if we’re not there.”

Things You Never Knew About the Printed Bible

When was the first Jewish Bible printed? How did the annotated Bible we are familiar with today first come about? What competition took Bible publishers by storm in the 19th century? How does one handle a Bible that is over a foot and a half tall? Here's a deep dive into the history behind the printed Bible.

Kehilot Moshe, Amsterdam, 1724. On display in the permanent exhibition of the National Library of Israel – "A Treasury of Words"

We’ll begin with an unsurprising fact: The first book ever printed was a Latin version of the Bible, including the New Testament. It was printed in Germany around the year 1455 by Johannes Gutenberg, the inventor of the printing press. Somewhat more surprising is the fact that when Jews first began printing books, the Bible was not their first choice. Jewish printers started out by investing their time and money in printing Bible commentaries by Rashi and Nachmanides (Ramban), the Arba’ah Turim collection of Halachic rulings, and other books.

One possible explanation relates to the diacritics of the text. Diacritics (niqqud) in the Hebrew Bible are extremely important. Indeed, many biblical manuscripts contained these small glyphs which indicate how Hebrew letters and vowels are to be vocalized. Printing these diacritic symbols must have been a challenge when the printing industry was just starting out, and what’s more, manuscripts of the Bible were relatively common, so Jewish printers may have simply preferred to print other texts. Two decades later, the Book of Psalms became the first book of the Bible to be printed by Jewish printers, along with commentary by Rabbi David Kimchi (The Radak), which was published in Bologna in 1477. In this book, each verse appears followed by the commentary for that verse, unlike the more commonly used method of printing two blocks of text next to each other, one being the source and the other the commentary. The early sections of the book contain diacritics, but the printers soon stopped printing the symbols after a few sections, as it proved too complicated a challenge.

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The Radak’s commentary on the Book of Psalms, the first of the Bible’s books to be printed by Jewish printers, Bologna, 1477

A complete Hebrew Bible containing diacritics was only printed 11 years later, in 1488, by the Soncino family printing house in the Northern Italian city of Soncino. Over the following 30 years, about 60 books of the Pentateuch and Bible were printed, most of them only partial versions.

A version of the Pentateuch was printed, with the Targum Onkelos (a famous Jewish Aramaic translation) and commentary by Rashi, by the famous printer Daniel Bomberg in Venice, apparently in 1511. The original cover had of course stated the year of publication, but this page was lost over time. So how do we (ostensibly) know the year of publication? A copy of this edition was sent to the National Library of Israel, and its cover page states the year 1511 alongside the coat of arms of King Henry IV of France. This page was not the original but was prepared for the King, who ruled France from 1589 to 1610. Whoever printed it believed that the original year of publication was 1511.

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The Pentateuch, i.e. the five books of the Torah, Venice, approx. 1511. From the private collection of King Henry IV of France (according to the symbol in the center of the page)

In 1515, Bomberg received a license to print a complete Hebrew Bible. In 1517, Bomberg and his partner Felix Pratensis, a Jew who converted to Christianity, printed a complete Bible in two almost identical editions. One was intended for Jewish readers, and the other included a dedication to the Pope and was intended for Christian use. For the first time since the invention of the printing press, a complete Hebrew Bible was published, alongside an Aramaic translation, and at least one commentary for each book. Rashi’s commentary, for example, accompanied the books of the Torah and the Radak’s commentary appeared in Prophets. Pratensis was meticulous about comparing old biblical manuscripts to ensure that he was printing an accurate Bible. The Hebrew title that appears on the cover of the book, similar to many manuscripts before it, reads Four and Twenty, named for the 24 books of the Bible. Pratensis’ Bible included two innovations that are used to this day: the division of the text into chapters (based on a Christian division), and the division of the books of Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles into two parts each.

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Four and Twenty, the complete Hebrew Bible (in four volumes), Venice 1517

Seven years later, in 1524, Bomberg was working on a new edition that he called Sha’ar HaShem HaChadash (“The New Gate of the Lord”). This time, he recruited an editor named Jacob Ben Hayyim Ibn Adonijah, a learned Jew who came to Venice from Tunisia. Ben Hayyim strove to print a more accurate edition than that of Pratensis. To accomplish that goal, he mainly based his work on Middle Eastern Jewish manuscripts, which were considered more accurate. One of the most important aspects for Ben Hayyim was the addition of the Masoretic text, a set of instructions and rules for writing the biblical text according to the tradition passed down from generation to generation. The purpose of the Masora is to maintain accuracy and uniformity for all Torah books in the world. This is reflected in its meticulousness concerning diacritics, cantillation, words that are pronounced differently than they are spelled, special use of smaller or larger letters, etc. Ben Hayyim edited this new Bible according to the instructions of the Masora, printing the rules of the Masora alongside the text, while also including Ibn Ezra’s commentary for some of the sections. He was able to convince Bomberg that printing this version was worthwhile, in large part due to the inclusion of the Masoretic text, which was a key feature of the edition. The Masora is of great value to Jewish Kabbalah, and this interested Bomberg as well as other Christian scholars at the time.

1524 יעקב בן חיים
Sha’ar HaShem HaChadash (“The New Gate of the Lord”), Venice, 1524

In the first of the four volumes of “The New Gate of the Lord”, Ben Hayyim wrote a long introduction explaining the importance of the Masora, including the different opinions and the differences between the pronounced and written words. His name is only mentioned at the beginning of this introduction, in the first edition, which was published in 1524.

Ben Hayyim later converted to Christianity, and in subsequent editions, instead of his name he simply wrote “the copyist”. The introduction is important for understanding the Masora, so it was also copied and printed separately several times. It was even translated into English in 1865 and again in 1867 by the Bible scholar Christian David Ginsburg. The translated copy that is kept at the National Library contains a dedication by Ginsburg to the German theologian and scholar Professor Konstantin Schlottmann. For the purpose of this article, we will simply note during the last quarter of the 19th century, Ginsburg and Schlottman were involved in an episode that gained international notoriety when they clashed with Moshe Shapira – a Jewish antiquities dealer in Jerusalem who converted to Christianity and was exposed as an international forger of biblical manuscripts that he claimed to have found. But that’s a story for another article. In any case, the English-translated copy of “The New Gate of the Lord”, from Schlottman’s collection eventually ended up in the hands of the Chief Sephardic Rabbi in London, Dr. Moses Gaster, a scholar of languages ​​and folklore. In the 1950s, the National Library acquired some of Gaster’s books, including this copy.

הקדמה יעקב בן חיים
English translation of Jacob Ben Hayyim’s introduction, London, 1867

Back to the 16th century: In a manner similar to the format he used when printing the Talmud, Bomberg designed the pages of his printed Bible so that a selection of commentaries would appear alongside each portion of the biblical text. This format proved to be very successful and popular and remains common to this day (mainly in Prophets and Writings).

There is no major difference between Bomberg’s Venice print from 1524 and the book I used to study for my high school matriculation exams. Although different commentaries were added, they generally appear at the end of the book, and the general appearance is still quite similar.

יהושע
The Book of Joshua from an edition printed in the 1990s next to a similar book printed by Bomberg in 1524

But that is not where the evolution of the printed Bible ends. In 1724, a Bible with multiple commentaries was published in Amsterdam, which was a major center for Jewish printing at the time. It was called Kehilot Moshe, named after the publisher Rabbi Moshe Frankfurter, who printed many books in Amsterdam. This Bible, which was also published in four volumes, has no less than eight commentaries printed around the text, including Rashi, the Ralbag, Sforno, and the Chizkuni. Some editions even included small colored illustrations. The title written across the cover is Mikra Gedola (“The Large Reading”), alluding to the book’s importance and size. Some argue that “large” refers to the physical size of the books, which are in fact over a foot and a half in length.

קהלות משה
Beginning of the Book of Exodus in the Kehilot Moshe Bible, Amsterdam, 1724

The next milestone event occurred in the city of Lviv, or Lemberg as the Jews called it. In 1808, another large edition featuring many commentaries was published in the city. This publication only included Prophets and some books from Writings, leaving out the five books of the Torah – the Pentateuch. This Bible was entitled Mikraot Gedolot (“the Great Readings”) – a name that has taken root and is commonly used nowadays to refer to Bible or Pentateuch editions which have many commentaries attached to the text or printed at the end.

תקסח מקראות גדולות
The first time the phrase Mikraot Gedolot was used to refer to a Bible printed with commentaries. Lemberg, 1808.

Throughout the 19th century, Mikraot Gedolot books gained momentum, and more and more editions were printed. Publishers at the time boasted about how many commentators they could cram into their books in what became a sort of open competition, as follows:

In Warsaw in 1860, the first volume of an edition of Mikraot Gedolot with 32 commentaries was published

In Piotrków, Poland, in 1897, a version of Mikraot Gedolot with the five books of the Torah and 42 commentaries was published

In Lemberg in 1909, a version of Mikraot Gedolot with the five books of the Torah and 49 commentaries was published

And in Vilna in 1923, a version of the Mikraot Gedolot was published containing only the Book of Leviticus, alongside 70 commentaries

Mikaraot Gedolot books are still staples of the Jewish bookshelf. Nowadays, there are many new, more accurate editions, featuring additional commentaries and high-quality printing. 

And to think, it all started 500 years ago in Daniel Bomberg’s printing house in Venice.