Dr. Hayim Katsman: A Brilliant Academic Lecturer and Car Mechanic

He chose an academic career for himself but refused to live in an ivory tower. He financed his studies first by working in a garage, and later through gardening and DJing. He grew up in a religious household in the city of Petah Tikva but decided to dedicate his life to the only place he wanted to call home: Kibbutz Holit in the Negev desert. Dr. Hayim Katsman was a brilliant, special, and generous person whose young life came to an end on that tragic Saturday.

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Hayim Katsman as a DJ (photo by Naama Kaspi), and one of his published academic articles that explains how working in a car garage led him to research Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh.

As anyone who attended Dr. Hayim Katsman’s political science classes can tell you, he dedicated the first two minutes of each session to meditation. The world outside is filled with noise, distractions, and nuisances, he used to tell his students, so it was important to spend those first couple of minutes meditating together, to create a buffer between the outside world and the classroom.

Starting classes with a meditation session wasn’t the only thing that made Dr. Katsman stand out in academia. It’s doubtful whether any other lecturers in Israel willingly chose to finance their studies by working in a car garage or gardening. Those who knew Katsman describe him as someone whose principles were the guiding force in his life; if he believed in something, he stuck with it no matter what. Katsman believed in integrating manual labor with intellectual work, and he lived by this principle. Professor Doron Shultziner from Hadassah College in Jerusalem recounted first meeting Katsman when the latter was his teaching assistant in his “Introduction to International Relations” course: “He’d come to the office with hands covered in grease, a very unusual sight at the university. That’s how I discovered that he also worked in a garage,” Shultziner shared.

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Hayim Katsman was born in the Israeli city of Petah Tikva into a religious Zionist family with ties to academia. Despite being considered gifted from a young age, he preferred spending time with friends over focusing on his studies. He and his friends played soccer regularly, but Hayim wasn’t always the best player. In fact, one childhood friend confessed he used to pray that Katsman wouldn’t be picked for his team, to improve his own chances of being on the winning side.

But Katsman wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge, and he carried out difficult tasks with admirable persistence and diligence. When he set a goal for himself, he stuck to it. Speaking about his job at the garage, his friend Aviad Bashari says: “He had ‘two left hands’ [a common expression in Hebrew, indicating clumsiness or a lack of manual skills], but the garage manager had a lot of patience and allowed him to get hands-on experience. He gave him the chance to learn everything, and slowly, Katsman figured it out.”

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The late Dr. Hayim Katsman (right) alongside his close friend Aviad Bashari, on the latter’s wedding day. Photo from a private album.

“It always started for him with some sense that, ‘there’s a challenge here’,” Aviad Bashari explains. “The challenge would ignite him, and he’d enter ‘work mode’ and get into a routine. He’d set rules for himself, like ‘I’m going to get up in the morning and sit down for an hour to write, no matter what.’ Slowly, this would evolve until things came more easily, turning into a creative process rather than just hard work. But he worked hard to achieve things, so yes, it’s easy to say he was a talented man, but his success was the result of a process that involved failure and a lot of hard work,” says Bashari.

Alongside his physical work, Katsman’s life was also filled with intellectual and artistic pursuits. For example, music was always a part of his life. As a teenager, he decided he wanted to learn to play the guitar. He found himself a teacher, bought a guitar, and began learning.

“He had huge speakers at home, like the kind you see at parties, and there was always something playing in the background,” Bashari recalls. “It got to the point where I stopped playing music in my own home and would just open a window to hear what was playing at Katsman’s house. He was the type to discover an album and listen to it over and over, from start to finish.”

In recent years, Katsman decided to turn his love for music into a hobby and began DJing. As with everything he did, this was a conscious choice to combine art with his values: he decided that he’d be a DJ specializing in Arabic music to expose the Israeli public to it. Katsman discovered Arabic music when he was studying the language. He fell in love with it and decided to bring it to Israeli audiences. “He wanted people to connect, and wanted this culture to be accessible,” Bashari says. “But over time, he realized that if he truly wanted his music to connect people, it needed to be really good in its own right, and the rest would come later. He turned out to be a great DJ, and his parties were places where Hebrew and Arabic speakers came together. He created a space where Bedouins also came and danced with us, which is something that we’d never had before. A bit before October 7, I told him, ‘Listen, you’re becoming a DJ we come to listen to not just because you’re our friend and we feel obligated, but because we genuinely enjoy the music.’ His music was one of his gifts to the world,” says Bashari.

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Dr. Hayim Katsman doing what he loved – DJing. Photo: Naama Kaspi

In addition to music, books always played an important role in shaping Katsman’s worldview. His family and friends recall that he was an avid reader from a young age (“At least one book a week, if not more,” says Bashari). As a teenager, Katsman began reading works by Richard Dawkins, which had a significant impact on his decision to leave religious observance. His mother, Hannah, recalls that when he was 16 years old, he confronted her, arguing that it was wrong to force children to fast during Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur. He based his arguments on one of Dawkins’ books. From that point on, while Hannah continued to fast, she made sure that there was always food available for her children during the fast, letting them know they could take it without asking or informing her.

In addition to Dawkins, Katsman also began reading philosophy books. At 16, he was expelled from his religious high school after refusing to conceal his religious criticism, as the school administration had requested. He was sent to attend an external high school program and, at the age of 17, began pursuing a bachelor’s degree in philosophy at the Open University.

After a break for military service, Katsman wanted to resume his studies, but he soon discovered that the Open University did not offer a standalone philosophy degree, and that he needed to enroll in a double major. Of all the available options, he chose political science. During his studies, he developed a passion for the subject and decided to work towards a master’s degree, and later a PhD, in political science.

The topic he chose for his thesis – Rabbi Yitzchak Ginsburgh’s political philosophy – came to him by chance. While working in the garage, Katsman noticed several cars with bumper stickers quoting Rabbi Ginsburgh’s teachings. The stickers caught his attention, eventually leading him to immerse himself in writing a thesis on Ginsburgh’s political philosophy and its place in the politics of contemporary religious Zionism.

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Many of his colleagues, including his mentor, Dr. Joel Migdal, described him as a brilliant researcher with a unique and innovative way of thinking. After completing his thesis, Hayim Katsman decided to continue exploring contemporary religious Zionism. He began investigating the rise of conservatism, neoliberalism, and the influence of Americanization on political views within the Israeli religious Zionist community. He was one of the first researchers to study the rise of organizations like the Kohelet Policy Forum, way before the forum became more widely known following its involvement in the movement for judicial reform in Israel.

Alongside his passion for academic research, Katsman dedicated most of his time and energy outside academia to developing Kibbutz Holit, the tiny kibbutz near the border with Gaza and Egypt. He was particularly focused on cultivating the community garden. Even when life in the remote kibbutz limited his career prospects, he remained committed to it. And when it meant making the long journey from the kibbutz to Hadassah College in Jerusalem twice a week – over two hours in each direction – he chose to stay in the kibbutz.

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Hayim in his beloved kibbutz. Photo: Eliyahu Hershkovitz

Hayim Katsman arrived at Kibbutz Holit thanks to his friend Aviad Bashari. He joined the kibbutz after completing his military service, a year after Bashari had moved there. “At first, he was hesitant and told me not to expect him to join any of the committees, but he quickly became one of the most involved figures in the kibbutz,” Bashari recalls. Apart from a brief period when Katsman was in the U.S. for his PhD, he never left the kibbutz.

During Katsman’s last months, he was uncertain about the future of his academic career. Among other things, he considered going abroad for a postdoctoral fellowship, but the thought of leaving the kibbutz again weighed heavily on him.

On the weekend of October 7, Katsman was supposed to be celebrating his birthday at the kibbutz. However, some of the kibbutz members had gone on family trips, so they decided to postpone the festivities. At 6:30 AM on the morning of October 7, when the sirens began to wail, Katsman entered his safe room. Shortly after, he contacted his neighbor, Avital Aladjem. During a lull, he went over to her house to help her .

When they realized that terrorists had infiltrated the kibbutz, they decided to hide in a closet. The terrorists managed to enter the house where they were hiding, found Katsman in the closet, and shot him at close range. Avital was initially kidnapped to Gaza, with two children of another neighbor, but eventually managed to escape from the terrorists while already inside the Gaza Strip and walked back on foot into Israeli territory. Katsman remained behind, inside a closet in the kibbutz he loved so much. He was 32 years old at his death.

Hadassah College has established a scholarship fund for students in the governance program where Hayim Katsman taught, in his memory. Donations to the fund can be made here. In July 2024, Tel Aviv University published a collection of Hebrew essays entitled The Americanization of the Israeli Right, dedicated to the memory of Dr. Hayim Katsman.

Lives Lost: The Works of the October 7 Fallen – A Special Project

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Bilhah Yinon: The Woman Who Created a New, Better World – From Scrap

Bilhah, who was murdered along with her husband on October 7, was an artist full of optimism, compassion, and good-heartedness. She dedicated her life to educating younger generations to love and preserve nature. The adorable children's book character she created is part of her legacy.

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Bilhah and Ya'akov Yinon, and the book “Parparit, Gruti and Me" [Hebrew], written by Bilhah Yinon. Photo from her daughter’s Facebook page

”Gruti”, a riff on the Hebrew word gruta’ah (junk, scrap), is made of a can of juice, duct tape, bits of cloth, and plastic bottles. But for Bilhah Yinon, author of the books Gruti and Parparit, Gruti, and Me, Gruti is a guard dog and loyal friend she created to help connect us to nature and remind us to protect it. One could perhaps translate Gruti as “Scrappy”.

The book Gruti, which came out in 1993, is part of a long-standing vision of Bilhah’s, a vision in which members of the younger generation would be taught to protect nature, recycle, and create. Bilhah Yinon was an artist, an art teacher, and an educator, as well as a credentialed parental instructor at the Adler Institute. She lived in Netiv Ha’Asarah, a moshav (a cooperative agricultural community) located on the northern border of the Gaza Strip.

At age 56, she took an early retirement and set up a studio on the moshav. There she worked, taught, and produced art – primarily using the Mandala Method which serves as a form of meditative exercise and an artistic expression of universal human values, while also strengthening concentration and balance.

The studio is the only part of the home Bilhah shared with her partner Yaakov that remains standing today in Netiv Ha’Asarah. The events of October 7 cut their lives short – but they did not destroy the dreams, artworks, and love which Bilhah spread to her students, to her family, to her five children to whom she devoted her books, and to everyone who knew her.

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Children’s books written by Bilhah Yinon and kept at the National Library: Gruti and Parparit, Gruti, and Me

Bilhah was designated as the last “missing person” of October 7. In early August 2024, the IDF confirmed that it had identified her body. That cursed morning, three terrorists infiltrated Netiv Ha’Asarah. Yaakov was murdered in the massacre and his body was identified.

Bilhah, meanwhile was designated as a “missing person” because there was no sign that she had been taken to Gaza and because no sign of her remains was found at first. Since the two were together, the family expected to hear the worst and even sat shivah for both of them the day after the massacre. Despite this, the ultimate confirmation of her death was painful, forcing the painful feelings and trauma back to the surface.

Her daughter Maayan Yinon spoke to us about Bilhah’s books which can be found at the National Library, as well as her mother’s worldview: “My father would always laugh at mom that she was a trash collector. She was really ahead of her time when it came to recycling. She would do amazing things,” Maayan told us. “I remember her artworks hanging up since I was a baby. It was part of the mindset of her and my father, who’s an agronomist. They had a connection to nature and the land, and she believed that the less you bought, the better.”

In the book Gruti, a lonely child decides to make himself a dog from scrap – who then becomes his friend. The child presents the dog to his parents, who aren’t big on the idea at first, but who later help their son collect more elements for his dog-doll. Gruti protects the child, the home, and the garden and reminds the family to protect nature.

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Cover the can with cloth, glue on a mouth, eyes and ears using cloth or felt…” – instructions for how to make your own “Gruti” at the end of the book

In the book’s sequel Parparit, Gruti, and Me, the child and his good friend Gruti find a plastic bag in the street. They turn it into a butterfly doll called Parparit (“female butterfly” in Hebrew), who teaches them to be happy and dance. The two books contain a detailed description for children on how to make their own “Gruti” and “Parparit” with bottles, caps, bags, and more at the back of the book.

Maayan has the original Gruti doll from the book: “Originally, my mother and Maurizio the illustrator submitted the book’s text and illustrations to a scholarship fund and they won first prize. That’s how she published it. I remember her excitement when the books came, we were all excited. All the grandchildren were given a workshop on how to make their own Gruti and Parparit. At the party for my daughter’s fourth birthday, she and mom prepared a play for kindergarten based on the [Levin] Kipnis story, Shloshah Parparim [Three Butterflies]. Mom made three butterflies just like Parparit.”

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“When Dad came to tell me good night, he saw Parparit in my bed…” – From the book Parparit, Gruti, and Me

Literature, creativity, and the art of reading storybooks were all a part of Bilhah’s everyday life. She very much missed her grandchildren who live in London. Every morning, she would get up to read them a story by Zoom, and the grandchildren would sit and listen to Grandma Bilhah.

Bilhah’s connection to her children and grandchildren, both in Israel and abroad, was exceptional, and she chose to communicate with them using her various senses as well as their own creativity:

“She believed that that we’re allowed to feel anything and that [the children] should express their inner creativity. Her house was almost entirely devoid of things you needed to ‘protect’ and you could always act freely, even if something fell down. There was a lot of creativity around – paper, markers and blocks. You could always find something to do which didn’t involve watching a screen. This was at the core of the atmosphere in that house,” Maayan said.

“There was a ‘rage corner’ in the yard. Whoever was really angry and needed to get out their anger – got to do it there. She would give the children plates and you could break or throw them in that corner which had many shattered fragments of all sorts of plates. I am sorry I didn’t understand then just how much she understood children and youth. It took me time to understand, but the grandchildren were simply privileged to have a grandmother and grandfather who were very sensitive to their needs and who really understood them. No judgment.”

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Bilhah reading a book to her grandchildren in London. Photo courtesy of her daughter Maayan

Bilhah and Yaakov were special people, who were connected to the land and who had a great deal of humor and love in their hearts. Bilhah would come each time with a new creative idea and Yaakov would encourage her and support her and her desire to do what she wanted. She used various materials from everyday life in her works, even collecting stones from around the world to create art that was full of life.

In the books she managed to publish, Bilhah wrote happy stories about magical places. Through these stories, she succeeded in delivering deeper messages about love, friendship, and overcoming difficulties, while weaving together reality and imagination. Today they carry on the memory of their author, who was murdered by Hamas terrorists – a woman who left behind a legacy which continues to touch many hearts.

“I learned from mom about the importance of ‘communicating at eye level’ with children and adults, on the possibility of creating in almost any situation, that it’s worth it to paint together or do something simple, a pleasant jaunt together, it’s very important,” Maayan said. “It was important for her to accumulate good experiences together and teach that the nature around us is just as sensitive as we are and that it’s important to protect it.”

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With great sorrow we announce the death of our grandfather and grandmother, our beloved mother and father, Bilhah and Ya’akov Yinon…” – an obituary notice published on the Facebook page of Maoz Yinon, son of Bilhah and Ya’akov, on October 8, 2023

The family went through very difficult days upon learning of the certain death of Yinon, even though they already knew and assumed this was the case. Maayan, a body-mind therapist by profession, deals with the pain admirably:

“These are very challenging days. We feel great sadness and anger. But I want to stress – we have received love which accompanies us. First of all, the love of my parents is very much felt even now, and we also received love and support from many good people along the way. Every opportunity to talk about them, and any project done or planned in their memory provides hope and belief for me that we can establish a reality of gentleness, sensitivity, and beauty in this world even in terrible and difficult times.

“This is mom’s legacy. She would succeed in creating a magical, amazing, beautiful world within a complicated reality. She would find creative solutions for renewal amidst depression. So, if I choose to be here, then I must think how I want to feel. It’s true that it’s very hard right now. I don’t feel happiness, maybe for a few brief moments. But I do succeed in experiencing a sense of gratitude, for the family I had and have, and the parents I had.”

Lives Lost: The Works of the October 7 Fallen – A Special Project

Marcel Freilich-Kaplon: The Scientist Who Brought Chemistry to Israeli Schoolchildren

Some teachers just have that extra "something" - a true passion for what they teach and for making it accessible to their students. These are the kinds of teachers who dedicate themselves to passing on their knowledge with burning enthusiasm and immense determination. Dr. Marcel Freilich-Kaplon was exactly this kind of teacher. She embodied a rare combination of wisdom, passion, and boundless dedication. The vitality and love that burned deep within her came to a tragic end on October 7. However, the books that Marcel and her colleagues authored remain with us, carrying on her legacy.

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The late Dr. Marcel Freilich-Kaplon, from a private album, and the 9th grade textbook that she helped write, which is preserved in the National Library of Israel

“Every encounter with Marcel was an inspirational experience, and whether it was in the classroom, in a science project, or during a personal conversation, she touched hearts and left an indelible mark,” Dr. Yael Schwartz of the Weizmann Institute of Science says about her colleague and dear friend Marcel Freilich-Kaplon, who was tragically murdered on October 7. From conversations with those whose hearts she touched, we discovered that Marcel was not only a scientist and writer but also a dedicated and professional educator who had a noble goal of making chemistry accessible to Israeli schoolchildren.

Marcel Freilich-Kaplon immigrated to Israel from Morocco with her parents, Hanna and Nissim Medina, when she was three years old. She was the 13th of 14 siblings. The family settled in a transit camp (ma’abarah) in Be’er Sheva and later moved to Neighborhood Dalet (D) in the city. Her favorite subject in high school was chemistry. After serving in the IDF as a teacher-soldier, she completed her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in chemistry at Ben-Gurion University before embarking on a career teaching chemistry to high school students. In the late 1990s, she met Dr. Miri Kesner of the Weizmann Institute, who invited her to take part in some of the Institute’s projects. Miri told us that she was immediately impressed by Marcel’s unique personality and abilities: “I suggested she become invoved in our projects advancing chemistry education across schools in southern Israel. She was intelligent, dedicated, organized, with creative ideas and positive energy that she gave to everyone who worked with her. She was a wonderful teacher for students as well as for teachers. We were always looking for people like her and I was sure she’d go far.”

Later on, Marcel enrolled in a doctorate program at the Weizmann Institute, focusing on groundbreaking research in chemistry education using interactive online tools, under the guidance of Prof. Avi Hofstein and Dr. Miri Kesner. “Marcel dealt with every element of the teaching of science – as a high school teacher, as a developer of educational materials, as a researcher, and as a trainer of teachers – a variety of skills that are rarely embodied in a single person”, says Prof. Hofstein. After completing her studies in 2007, she continued working at the Weizmann Institute and later at the Davidson Institute of Science Education. Miri adds: “We stayed in touch after we parted ways and later on we were academic writing partners. Working with her was always focused, efficient and enjoyable. That last thing we wrote was published in September 2023, a few weeks before the terrible massacre.”

Marcel married Nuriel, and together they raised three children: Mor, Ziv, and Amit. The family moved to Kibbutz Be’eri, where she became a full-fledged kibbutznik—so much so that she was offered the management role of kibbutz secretary-general on several occasions. But Marcel preferred to expand her knowledge and dedicate herself to her life’s work—teaching chemistry, developing educational materials, and training teachers. Not only did she deepen her understanding of science, but she also worked with care and sensitivity to make it accessible to her students, colleagues, and anyone else who happened to be around her. After Marcel and Nuriel decided to separate, she was set up with her partner, Dror Kaplon, and the two embarked on what was a second chapter for both of them. They were deeply in love, curious, and passionate about nature and travel. In their later years, they delved into the dietary principles of Maimonides and were dedicated to maintaining an active and healthy lifestyle.

Marcel developed educational materials, was actively engaged in establishing the “We Have Chemistry” (Yesh Lanu Chimia) competition for high school students and was deeply involved in teacher training. She led numerous projects, including the development of professional learning communities for science and technology teachers. Over the last 15 years, she was a partner in developing science and technology textbooks, digital tools, and various projects, including chapters on materials science. Along with her colleagues, she published scientific articles and books, the most recent of which was published in September 2023.

Many Hebrew books co-authored by Marcel can be found at the National Library of Israel, including Exploring Living Materials, Journey to the Elements for Eighth Grade, and Exploring Matter and Energy. Her fascinating doctoral dissertation, Semiempirical Calculations to Examine the Effect of Geometric Changes on the Properties of Charge Transfer Complexes, written in Hebrew, is also kept at the Library. All of these are evidence of Marcel’s significant contribution to making the field of chemistry accessible to students.

Dr. Yael Schwartz of the Weizmann Institute describes Marcel as a “ball of energy,” a woman who committed herself to her role with the utmost professionalism and dedication, outspoken with a can-do attitude. “These books were the first project she was involved in with middle schools. The idea was to turn the material into something interactive, and that’s what she did until she was murdered. There was a brief period when she worked at the Davidson Institute of Science Education, where she was involved in a project creating short, engaging videos,” Schwartz says. “Working with her was a complete pleasure. She was the kind of woman who pushes you to new heights. When we worked together on teacher training, during summer workshops, the teachers were thrilled by her. She also played a significant role in the communities. She ran a science project that focused on teacher discourse on practices.”

Schwartz and Marcel were not only colleagues but also close friends. Schwartz recounts that even in her final hours, Marcel expressed concern for Schwartz’s son, who had been called up to Gaza. On the Saturday when the disaster occurred, Schwartz was exposed to what happened to Marcel and Dror, step by step, in real-time. “We have a WhatsApp group, and we asked Marcel what was happening and if she was okay,” Schwartz says. “She said they were in the safe room, and that’s how it started. We were in constant contact with her every few minutes. She described the gunfire aimed at her window and her house, and the shouting around them. She said she was scared, and then contact was severed. We knew that something terrible was happening. I so hoped that her phone had died. I hoped she had managed to escape. Every few minutes, I tried to call and text her to send us a sign. The next morning, I searched for her children online. I found her son Ziv, and he said they were assuming that Marcel and Dror had been kidnapped to Gaza. After a few days of waiting, we received the heartbreaking news.”

The couple spent about four hours in the safe room before terrorists broke into their home. Marcel’s son, Ziv Freilich, told us that on the same day, he and his siblings saw a video showing Marcel and Dror being led away, bound, outside their home. The following day, the siblings received another video showing them lying lifeless. “With our assistance, the process of identifying my mother’s body was expedited, and within a few days,  representatives from the army came to inform us officially. By then, we were pretty sure we knew what had happened to her.”

Schwartz also saw those distressing videos of her beloved friend. “I can’t get that video out of my mind. For months, as I tried to fall asleep, I couldn’t rid myself of that image of her being led out to her death. It still haunts me to this day,” Schwartz recounts.

Marcel had other dreams she never got to fulfill. She was fascinated by Maimonides’ dietary principles, and she had planned on writing a book about his ideas on nutrition and medicine from a modern scientific perspective, and to give lectures on the subject. Her colleagues at the Weizmann Institute, still devastated by the tragedy, are using the programs and content she created and are continuing to help develop her legacy. “I learned a lot from her about total commitment. About what it means to be a totally dedicated person,” Schwartz says with sadness. “Total dedication in work, in friendships, in family. An indescribable loyalty. But it’s so much more than that—Marcel was impossible to miss. She was my friend, and I miss her. Her absence hurts me every day.”

Lives Lost: The Works of the October 7 Fallen – A Special Project

The Search for a Jewish Book That Was Ordered to Be Destroyed 470 Years Ago

This incredible story begins with a quarrel among printers in 16th century Venice, which soon escalated to the point of burning Hebrew books on the orders of the Inquisition. The story continues with a globe-spanning search for a particular book saved from that fire. How does it end? With a twist of course…

Rescued from the flames: Commentary on Pirkei Avot, Rabbi Judah Lerma, Venice 1553

The smell of smoke reached the noses of the Jews of Rome as they stood in synagogue for Rosh Hashanah prayers on September 9, 1553. The smoke was coming from the Campo de’ Fiori, where thousands of volumes of the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmud were burned on the orders of the Inquisition.

It all started a few years earlier, with an ostensibly marginal event in the history of Italian Jewry. Marco Antonio Giustiniani, scion of an aristocratic family in Venice, opened a new print shop, becoming a business rival of Daniel Bomberg’s famous printing press, which had enjoyed a monopoly on the printing of Hebrew books, and especially the Babylonian Talmud, for 30 years. Giustiniani printed an edition that was almost identical to Bomberg’s Talmud, with a few important additions. The competition between them grew more and more intense, and within three years Bomberg was forced to shut down his business.

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Tractate Makot, Babylonian Talmud, Giustiniani Press, Venice 1550

But hostility in the Hebrew printing sector only increased after this. Rabbi Meir Katzenellenbogen, the Rabbi of the Ashkenazi community in Padua, who was also known as the Maharam of Pauda, sought to publish Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah with his own glosses. Giustiniani refused for reasons of commercial viability but printer Alvise Bragadin agreed to take up the project. Following his printing of the book, Giustiniani copied the glosses to his own edition. Two editions, by Bragadin and Giustiniani, came out in 1550.

Giustiniani explained in his book’s introductions that his aim was to lower the prices. Bragadin, meanwhile, accused his competitor of attempting to take over the market, raising prices, and ruining his work.

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Bragadin accuses Giustiniani of fraud. Printed at the beginning the second part of his published edition of Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah

From here onward, things only got more complicated. The Maharam turned for advice to Rabbi Moshe Isserles, the Rema, in Krakow. The Rema ruled that Bragadin was in the right and forbad the purchase of Giustiniani’s editions of the Mishneh Torah. Still, scholars believe that Bragadin was not entirely above board, either, as it appears that either he or his workers also copied corrections from Giustiniani’s edition without providing credit or an explanation.

This commercial rivalry quickly devolved into a religious firestorm revolving around the printing of the Talmud. According to scholar Meir Benayahu, Bragadin planned to print an edition of the Talmud after Giustiniani had already done so. To prevent this, Giustiniani turned to Pope Julius III in Rome on the grounds that Bragadin’s Talmud contained anti-Christian content. In response, Bragadin said the same of Giustiniani’s Talmud. The Pope convened a council, which decided on August 12, 1553 to burn all Talmudic books on the next Rosh Hashanah.

The books of the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmud were then burned in the Campo de’ Fiori in Rome on the first day of Rosh Hashanah, in 1553. The Pope then ordered this be done in all other Italian cities. In the following months, books were burned in Bologna, Venice, Ancona, Ferrara, and elsewhere. Officials of the Inquisition, who carried out the order, were not choosy in deciding which Talmudic volumes to burn, which meant that they simply burned most of the Hebrew-language books they found in the Jewish homes they searched. Only in May 1554 did a Papal order go out clarifying that only Talmudic books containing anti-Christian texts should be burned, and that Jews were permitted to hold other books which did not contradict the view of the Church.

Could it be that the only book to survive ended up at the NLI?

One of the books which went up in flames was the new volume by Rabbi Judah Ben Samuel Lerma: a commentary on Pirkei Avot (Masechet Avot). Two weeks after his book’s print run ended in Venice, the fire was lit in Rome. A month later, books were burned in Venice, with all 1,500 copies of Rabbi Lerma’s new book going up in flames instead of being sold to customers. But Lerma did not give up, and sat down to write his book anew:

They burned all the books I printed … Not one page was left to me from that printing, neither from the copy, and I was forced to go back and write it from my mind as in the beginning. And after I wrote three chapters of it, I found one book from the printing in the hands of Gentiles who took it from the fire, and I bought it with dear money and I saw that I was granted this by God, May He Be Blessed, and I made the second more complete than the first and I added many interpretations of wisdom…

(From the introduction to the second edition)

Fortunately for Rabbi Lerma, he managed to get his hands on a single copy of the first edition. The second edition came out in 1554 and was called Lechem Yehudah or “The Bread of Judah”. It was longer and included sermons integrated between the chapters.

A few years ago, I searched for Lechem Yehudah in the National Library’s online catalog. I saw that we had two copies: according to the catalog, they were published in 1554 by Tuvia Puah’s print shop in Sabbioneta, Italy.

Then I noticed something strange: there was another copy of the commentary on Pirkei Avot. From 1553.

Could it be that the only copy of the first edition, which somehow survived the flames in Rome, was here at the National Library of Israel?

קטלוג שלנו
Two editions of the book in the National Library catalog. One from 1554, and the other – 1553

I immediately ordered the book from our Rare Books Collection. It arrived within an hour. It wasn’t large, and had a simple grey cover. I opened it carefully and excitedly… but to my disappointment and surprise, it was a blurry photocopy rather than the original book. I looked through various inventory lists to see where we got it, but all they said was “copy.” Thank you, Captain Obvious.

So the only copy of Rabbi Lerma’s first edition was not in our collection. But we did have a photocopy, which meant the original was somewhere to be found. But where?

I searched catalogs in Israel and abroad, but in vain. The photocopy contained no stamp or registry number of a library. It could be the original was in the hands of a private collector or an institution disconnected from the global library network. I couldn’t find anything.

Plot twist: an anonymous tip

In 1850, Rabbi and bibliographer Eliakim Carmoly (1802-1875) printed a book in Frankfurt called Divrei Hayamim Kibnei Yihya which tells the story of the family of Don Yosef Nassi, who were Portuguese conversos. The book lists his descendants and the story of his family in Italy. It mentions how his great grandson, Rabbi Gedaliah, wrote a book called Shalshelet HaKabbalah, where he also addressed the burning of books in Italy. Rabbi Carmoly noted in a comment that he added the story of Rabbi Lerma from the introduction to the second edition of his book. And here’s where it gets interesting:

And here according to these things [the introduction to Lechem Yehudah – D.L.], the reader will deduce that only one book remained of the first printing bought by the author with dear money, and this is not [true – D.L.], for we saw two and three of these books.

And to prove that he personally saw such a copy, Rabbi Carmoly described what was written on the cover, also noting the number of pages, the book’s physical size and even the precise date upon which its writing was completed.

כרמולי
Rabbi Eliakim Carmoly

So there were at least two copies of this unique book somewhere in the world. But I had no leads, and I eventually just forgot about them.

One day while sitting at the NLI’s reference desk, a man approached me for help in locating a particular book. During our conversation, the matter of the Rome book burning came up, and he asked me if I knew the story of Rabbi Lerma’s book. I said that I did, adding that I knew there was an existing copy, but had no idea where it was. The man smiled and said the book could be found in Oxford. He then got up and left, and I never saw him again. My curiosity was rekindled.

I then checked the online catalog of the Bodleian Library at Oxford University, trying all sorts of spelling variations. I still came up empty.

More recently, I contacted the staff at the Bodleian regarding their collection. The librarian explained that antique Jewish books are not included in the online catalog but are instead registered in the printed Cowley catalog. Sir Arthur Ernest Cowley was an English librarian and Orientalist who ran the Oxford Library 100 years ago. One of his most famous works is A Concise Catalogue of the Hebrew Printed Books in the Bodleian Library. The Cowley catalog is written in English and claims to be a complete and precise list of all Jewish and Hebrew books at Oxford, as of 1927. Cowley worked 13 years to prepare it. On page 363, under Judah Lerma, I found both Rabbi Lerma’s books, the first of which is the 1553 edition of his commentary on Pirkei Avot.

Cowley
From the Cowley catalog. The two books from 1553 and 1554 with their shelf numbers at Oxford]

The book’s shelf number in the catalog attests to its origin, as Opp. is short for Oppenheim, a reference to the book collection of Rabbi David Oppenheim (1664-1736), who was the Rabbi of Prague, owner of a huge and important book collection, and an author of books himself.

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Rabbi David Oppenheim

When he became the Rabbi of Prague, he left his large library with his father-in-law in Hanover, Germany. When he passed away in 1736, his granddaughter inherited the collection and later sold it to a relative in Hamburg. When the collection was put up for sale again, the books were listed under a catalog entitled Kohelet David. Page 208 mentioned Rabbi Lerma’s book from 1553.

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From Kohelet David, Rabbi David Oppenheim book catalog

In 1828, Rabbi Oppenheim’s collection was sold at a particularly low price to Oxford University and delivered in 34 boxes.

I turned to the deputy curator of the Judaica collection at Oxford. She checked the book for me and even sent over a photograph of the cover. You can see that despite some scribbled technical notes that have been added here and there, it’s clearly the same book that we have a photocopy of. The book saved from the Inquisition at Venice is now on the shelves of the Bodleian Library at Oxford. The lost book had been found!

השוואה 1153
Right: Photocopy at the National Library of Israel. Left: the original book. (Courtesy of the Bodleian Library at Oxford)

But this incredible discovery at Oxford was not the end of the story. Remember how Rabbi Carmoly said there was more than one copy he saw? Well, I found another! And it was not simple at all.

The National Library’s Institute of Microfilmed Hebrew Manuscripts has been cataloging Hebrew manuscripts for 70 years. The National Library of Israel itself has some 14,000 physical Hebrew manuscripts in its collection. There are some 110,000 additional Hebrew manuscripts spread around the world, all of which are cataloged at the National Library, with copies of each one also preserved in our collection, in the form of either a digital scan or a photocopy.

One of the Jewish manuscript collections found abroad is that of the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana in Florence, Italy. The library, which is based on the private collection of the noble Medici family, was opened to the public in 1571. Like other such collections, the Medici collection is also cataloged by us based on the Laurentian catalog from 1757.

Among the manuscripts we have cataloged is one titled “A Commentary on Pirkei Avot by Judah Lerma: Venice Press, 1553″ (פרוש מסכת אבות ליהודה לירמא: דפוס ויניציאה, 1553) which I found. And so it turned out that among the manuscripts in the old catalog was a single printed book, another copy of Rabbi Lerma’s original book which was ordered burned by the Inquisition! According to the description, the book is attributed to Rabbi Isaac Abarbanel even though the true author is mentioned – “Iudas ben Samuel Lerma”. The book contains no direct reference to Abarbanel and the source of the error is unclear.

I of course turned to the Laurentian library, where they explained that sometimes old printed books end up in the manuscript collection. This specific book appears to have been in their library from its beginnings in the sixteenth century. A few years after the catalog was printed, the printed books were then delivered to the Magliabechiana Library, which is today the Florence National Library.

I immediately went to their digital catalog, and once again, it was far from easy. Titles of Hebrew books in the catalogue are written phonetically using Latin letters rather than in Hebrew. This is what is written in the title:

Pyrwš Mskt ʼbwt ʼšr ḥbr h.r Yhwdh yzyyʼ bn ʼyš ḥyl rb pʻlym km.r Šmwʼl Lyrmh sprdy zlh.h

Or as we would say:

Peirush Masechet Avot Asher Hiber Harav Yehudah YZYY”A [Yireh Zera Ya’arich Yamim Amen] Ben Ish Hail Rav Pe’alim Kemoreinu Rav Shmuel Lermah Sefardi zlhh (zichro lechayey ha’olam haba).

“A Commentary on Pirkei Avot Written by Rabbi Judah […] son of an exemplary and industrious man, our teacher Rabbi Shmuel Lerma Sefardi, may his memory be a blessing for the world to come”

Rabbi Carmoly was right. There were at least two surviving copies of the book – one in England and one in Italy.

Maybe I will get to visit these libraries and see the books for myself. In the meantime, we will need to get a better scan than the old one we have. And this time, to avoid the need for such exhaustive searches, we should really note the source.