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.

יוסטיניאן — 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.

רמבם בראגדין — Maimonides’ *Mishneh Torah* with glosses by the Maharam of Padua, Bragadin, Venice 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.

בראגדין מאשים — 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.

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.

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.

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.

Lehem660 — 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.

Commentary on Pirkei Avot, from the Laurentian library catalog, 1757

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.

Tu B’Av, the Jewish Valentine’s Day

“There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do than helping people find love,” says a matchmaker

Hillel Kuttler | 18.08.24

History of Israel Jewish Holidays Judaism

Girls dancing on Tu B’Av in Hadera, early 20th century. From the Khan Hadera Archive and Museum (Photo: Sonia Kolodany / Photo Sonia / CC BY 2.5), colorization by MyHeritage

This commonly happens in Israel each August: No sooner do digital promotions for lectures and worship services relating to Tisha B’Av fade than advertisements for love charms and singles events and romantic B&B getaways for Tu B’Av pop up.

The former event, the 9th day of the Jewish month of Av, is the saddest date on the calendar, a 25-hour period of fasting and commemorating such national calamities as the destruction in 586 B.C.E. and 70 C.E. of Jerusalem’s two holy temples. The second date, the 15th of Av, is known as the Jewish holiday of love and courtship, going back to the temple periods.

The calendar’s juxtaposition is considered intentional, with the solemnity of three weeks of mourning yielding to life-affirming joy — and what’s more life-affirming than young people finding each other, courting, falling in love and marrying?

Loveandwine — “Love and wine, wine and love” – A fairly Dionysian-looking poster promoting a celebration of the ancient Jewish festival of Tu B’Av at Kibbutz GIvat Hayim Ihud. This item has been made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Givat Haim Ihud Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

Tu B’Av shows “that we’re over the whole mourning period and are rededicating ourselves to love,” said Rabbi Avidan Milevsky, a psychology professor at Ariel University. “It’s a sense of healing, of rebuilding a Jewish home. We kind of heal from the destruction of the Temples by building a temple at home when we’re married.”

That’s all the more vital now, in the depressing year of 5784 that began with Hamas’ invasion of the western Negev on Oct. 7 and extended to the ongoing war in Gaza and against the southern Lebanon-based Hezbollah terrorist organization.

There were “no happier days for Israel” than Yom Kippur and the 15th of Av, when “the daughters of Jerusalem would go forth and dance in the vineyards” wearing white garments, Rabbi Shimon ben Gamliel said in the Mishnah of Taanit (4:8).

“And what did they say?” he asked rhetorically, referring to the young women.

“Young man, raise your eyes and see who you’re selecting for yourself. Don’t set your eyes on beauty, but on family.”

The ritual began at Shiloh, the Samarian town housing the tabernacle in pre-temple days. “Go and lie in wait in the vineyards, and see and behold if the daughters of Shiloh come out to dance, then come out of the vineyards, and every man will catch his wife among the daughters of Shiloh,” reads the Book of Judges (21:21).

Nnl Archive Al11389623220005171 Ie2334644 Fl2583809 — Archaeolical ruins in ancient Shiloh. Photo by Ken Jacobson (American Colony, Jerusalem), the Lenkin Family Collection of Photography at the University of Pennsylvania Library, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

A variation of the ritual was revived more recently. For 11 years, through 2019, Shiloh’s historical site hosted thousands of women coming to dance in honor of Tu B’Av. It was done “just as in Biblical days and exactly at the same place and time where it was customarily done by Shiloh’s young women according to ancient tradition,” a 2019 pamphlet states.

That pamphlet was published by the regional council of Binyamin, a section of central Israel named for the tribe of Benjamin, who lived there in ancient times.

Tu B’Av celebrations in Ofra, 1975. This photo is part of the Archive Network Israel project and has been made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Yad Ben Zvi Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

If Tu B’Av represents singles joining, it also stands for reunification. The 15th of Av is the date a ban was lifted against the 11 other tribes marrying Benjaminites following the murder of the concubine of Givah that sparked a civil war, as told in the Hebrew Bible, also in the Book of Judges.

The Shiloh site dropped reenactments of the ritual dancing, but this August will host a concert by Israeli musician Eviatar Banai a few days after Tu B’Av in an event marketed to couples, according to an employee reached by phone.

A black-and-white photo from 1948 or 1949 shows young boys and girls at Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu participating in a Tu B’Av ceremony. The image, from the kibbutz’s archive, is in the National Library of Israel’s collection.

0001 Fl70279113 — Children taking part in a Tu B’av celebration in Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu in 1948/49, this item is part of the Archive Network Israel project and has been made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Kibbutz Sde Eliyahu Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

Another item in the collection, from the 1980s, is a colorful drawing marketed to adults — “steak in pita with a glass of brandy” and “a romantic atmosphere,” the text reads — for a Tu B’Av gathering at the Caesarea coast.

Nnl Archive Al11461825700005171 Ie190499044 Fl190503584 — A poster promising “steak in pita with a glass of brandy” and “a romantic atmosphere” at a Tu B’Av celebration on Caesarea Beach, 1980s. This item has been made accessible thanks to the collaborative efforts of the Givat Haim Ihud Archive, the Ministry of Jerusalem and Heritage and the National Library of Israel.

“The whole idea of Tu B’Av honors and recognizes romantic love and provides a framework that could work regardless of how a couple meets,” said Talli Yehuda Rosenbaum, a couples therapist and sex therapist in Beit Shemesh.

The ancient Tu B’Av ritual represents values in mating that remain primary today, including “consent and mutuality, choice and attraction,” she said. “It’s reframing the idea that marriage is just matching people up randomly.”

Aleeza Ben Shalom has worked as a matchmaker since 2012, when she lived in Philadelphia before moving to Israel. She even starred in Netflix’s reality-TV series Jewish Matchmaking.

“There’s nothing in the world I’d rather do than helping people find love,” she said.

“I’m part of the solution to modern-day people choosing no marriage over marriage. I’m part of the solution to build world peace,” said Ben Shalom, a resident of Pardes Hanna.

“It sounds crazy, but if we have stable, happy families, we can change the world for the greatest good.”

Writer-editor Hillel Kuttler can be reached at [email protected]

The Bible of the Conversos

Years after being forced to leave Judaism behind, many of the conversos of Spain and Portugal sought to return to their suppressed roots. The Ferrara Bible, which was printed in the 16th century and revised countless times, helped them rediscover their religion. Dozens of copies of this Bible are still scattered around the world today.

Daniel Lipson | 14.08.24

Conversos Jewish books Rare Books Rare Jewish Books Sephardic Jewry

After many years of being cut off from Judaism, the conversos of Spain and Portugal migrated to other countries around the world, with many of them attempting to return to the Jewish faith. They didn’t have much knowledge of Judaism, and they didn’t even know the Hebrew alphabet. However, childhood memories, family stories, and discreetly maintained traditions encouraged these “New Christians” to try to reconnect with their roots in their newly adopted homes.

Throughout the 16th century, converso communities began to print Jewish books in Spanish. Initially, these printed works included the foundational Jewish texts, followed later by works on Jewish philosophy, anti-Christian texts, and books of poetry. A Portuguese grammar book and a play based on the Book of Esther, both printed by conversos during this period, have been preserved. A little later, in the 17th century, conversos published what is considered the world’s first Jewish newspaper, the Gazeta de Amsterdam. The newspaper was published in Amsterdam and was primarily intended for Jewish merchants.

It all began in the city of Ferrara, in northern Italy. Conversos settled there in the 16th century, and established the earliest printing industry dedicated to works of Spanish and Portuguese conversos. The publishing work later moved to Venice, and then in the 17th century to Amsterdam, where it remained for approximately 200 years. During the expulsion from Spain and Portugal in the last decade of the 15th century, there was already a Jewish community living in Ferrara, and the Jewish printing house had been operating there for several years. From 1477 to 1551, it published the Arba’ah Turim (a work dedicated to Jewish religious law) and commentaries on the books of Job and Daniel.

מעיני הישועה — *Ma’ayanei Ha-Yeshua*, a commentary on the Book of Daniel by Don Isaac Abarbanel, Ferrara, 1551 (with the censors’ stamps on the last page)

Against this backdrop, Ferrara attracted many conversos wishing to return to their Judaism, since the location offered them such a comfortable environment. Among those who settled there was Abraham Usque, a converso who had printed Latin books in Portugal. In 1543, he came under suspicion of practicing Judaism in secret and fled from Portugal to Ferrara.

Shortly after the arrival of the conversos in Ferrara in 1552, a Spanish member of the community named Yom-Tob Atias published a siddur (prayer book) and later a book of the Selichot penitential prayers. Usque and Atias met each other and in 1553, they published a complete Bible in Spanish together. According to an inscription found on the inside cover, this was done with the approval of the Duke of Ferrara. The full title of the Bible they published was: “The Bible in the Spanish language, translated word for word from the true Hebrew by very excellent scholars, seen and examined by the office of the Inquisition.” To this day, it is commonly known as “The Ferrara Bible.”

Since it is a very literal translation, it is a bit of a strange read in Spanish; rather than writing the biblical stories in Spanish, the text is translated word for word, sometimes without syntax, exactly as it is written in the original Hebrew. While the Ferrara Bible was printed in Roman letters, some people consider the translation to be written in the Judeo-Spanish language of Ladino, because it adheres strictly to the original Hebrew text.

תנך — The Ferrara Bible, 1553. An inscription reads *Iblia en lengua española traduzida palabra por palabra de la verdad hebrayca por muy excelentes letrados vista y examinada por el officio de la Inquisicion* (“The Bible in the Spanish language, translated word for word from the true Hebrew by very excellent scholars, seen and examined by the office of the Inquisition.”)

The Ferrara Bible was first and foremost intended for conversos who wanted to study the Bible but did not have sufficient knowledge, if any, of Hebrew. The other target audience included Spanish-speaking Christians.

In the past, certain scholars surmised that in order to serve both types of readers, the Ferrara Bible was printed in two similar versions, with the differences reflecting the two target audiences’ respective expectations. In any case, the National Library of Israel has a copy of each version.

The “Christian” version states that it was printed by Jerónimo de Vargas and Duarte Pinel. The first page includes a long dedication to Duke Ercole II d’Este, who ruled Ferrara at the time of publication and granted Jews equal rights. The Jewish version was printed by the same two publishers, but in this version, they appear under their Hebrew names—Yom-Tob Atias (who some claim was Jerónimo de Vargas’ father) and Abraham Usque. In this version, the dedication is to Doña Gracia Nasi, the famous Portuguese converso and Jewish philanthropist. Doña Gracia may have funded the project or supported it in other ways.

הקדשה דונה גרציה — The dedication to Doña Gracia Nasi in the Jewish version of the Ferrara Bible

In the colophon – the final note attached to a book or manuscript summarizing its production process—some copies have the year written as 1553, while others have it written as the corresponding year in the Hebrew calendar, 5313.

קולופון — In the colophon at the end of this version of the book, the year is written in its Hebrew form – 5313.

However, the differences between the two versions of the Ferrara Bible don’t stop there. For example, they were printed in two different sizes and on different types of paper.

In the 1950s, Professor Stanley Rypins, a scholar of English literature, conducted a thorough examination of the existing copies of the Ferrara Bible. He found 49 different copies around the world and demonstrated that there were many differences among them, though most of these differences were small and insignificant.

Contrary to the assumptions of past scholars that the Ferrara Bible had both a Jewish and a Christian version, Rypins argued that there was in fact no version specifically tailored for Christian readers. On the contrary, over the years, some have even claimed that this Bible is anti-Christian and that the translations of certain verses that have been interpreted as a historical basis for Christianity maintain the original literal text, in an effort to undermine official Christian doctrine.

Nevertheless, in some copies, there is one significant change favoring Christian dogma. One of the verses used in Christianity for missionary purposes appears in the Book of Isaiah, chapter 7, verse 14. In the original, it reads as follows:

“Behold, the young woman is with child, and she shall bear a son, and she shall call his name Immanuel.”

In Christian literature, the verse was translated according to Christian theology, which asserts that Jesus’ mother is the Virgin Mary:

“Behold, a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.”

In some copies of the Ferrara Bible, the Hebrew word almah is translated into Spanish as moca (young woman). In others, it is translated as virgen (virgin), and in most cases, the printers simply wrote alma in Roman letters, thus avoiding controversy. In about half of the copies found, the word alma appeared, and Rypins demonstrated that this was how the Bible was originally printed. He claimed that the word was later changed to virgen, likely for political-religious reasons, and after several printings, to moca. Each change required the printer to adjust the font to maintain a uniform length of the row of text. To achieve this, abbreviated words were sometimes expanded to their full forms, and sometimes small spaces were added between words.

Throughout the period of publication, errors in page order and typos were corrected in the various printed copies that were released. Nevertheless, typographical errors can still be found here and there in some of the copies. Rypins viewed all these issues as proof that the different editions of the Ferrara Bible were indicative of an ongoing process of corrections; it wasn’t that there were two versions, each intended for a different audience, rather – all copies of the Ferrara Bible were intended for Spanish and Portuguese conversos in the mid-16th century. In the copies Rypins found, it was also evident that due to the prohibition against writing or pronouncing the name of God unnecessarily, most copies used the capital letter “A” as a substitute for the name. Some copies also included a list of the weekly Haftarah portions read in the synagogue.

God’s name written as the capital letter “A”, from the beginning of the *Va’etchanan* portion in the Ferrara Bible

The illustrated title page of the Ferrara Bible includes a drawing of a ship being tossed about by stormy waters at sea. One of its masts is broken, and it is surrounded by waves, gusts of wind, and sea monsters. The illustration alludes to the situation of the Jewish People in general and the conversos of Spain and Portugal in particular. The printers were hinting at the eternal nature of Judaism, which is forced to fight against its spiritual enemies but manages to survive and persevere despite it all.

שער פררה — The title page of the Ferrara Bible. The ship being wrecked at sea symbolizes the Jewish People.

The ship is also depicted with an armillary sphere, an instrument that serves as a model of objects in the sky and which was used in maritime navigation. The armillary sphere was the symbol of Abraham Usque’s printing house and appears in other books he printed as well.

Masotav — An armillary sphere, Abraham Usque’s trademark, which appears on the title page of a travel journal by Benjamin of Tudela

Usque published over 25 books before his printing house was closed in 1558. One of his books, Shiltei Giborim (“The Signs of Heroes”) by Rabbi Yaacov Ben Yoav Elia of Pano, included a lamentation for 24 conversos who were executed in Ancona in 1556. News of this lamentation reached the ears of Bishop Antonio Ghislieri (later, Pope Pius V), who then demanded that the book be burned and Usque be punished.

Ushka — From the lamentation for the martyrs of Ancona, *Shiltei Giborim*, Ferrara 1556.

In 1996, literary and theater scholar Moshe Lazar published an accurate facsimile edition (that is, a new print completely identical to the original) of the Ferrara Bible, with a print run of 1,000 copies. Earlier, in 1992, to mark the 500th commemoration of the expulsion of the Jews from Spain, Lazar released a critical edition (one that traces all known editions) of the Ferrara Bible. In the introduction, Lazar wrote that to prepare this edition, he located some 60 copies of the Bible. These copies and others, which might still be circulating and unaccounted for in remote parts of the world, helped the conversos of Spain and Portugal return to Judaism in the 16th century.

Fax — The facsimile (above) and the critical edition (below)

Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai’s Choice: Jerusalem or the Jewish People?

Shortly before the destruction of the Second Temple, with Jerusalem under siege by the Romans, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai made a very difficult decision, leaving his beloved and holy city behind to its fate. Feeling he could not save it, he decided to try something different in an attempt to keep the Jewish People alive.

Ayala Deckel | 08.08.24

History of Israel Jerusalem Judaism Tisha B'Av

Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai and Abba Sikra. From the film "Legend of Destruction". Paintings: David Polonsky, Michael Faust

At the end of the Second Temple era, with Jerusalem besieged by the Roman army, the wealthy of the city donated all the food in their warehouses to the public. In doing so, they hoped the Jews of the city would have what they needed to survive the siege.

The Jewish zealots had other plans, and they set fire to the stocks of food. Comfort and convenience do not maintain the spark of rebellion, and so they needed to be snuffed out. The rebels were seeking hunger, anger, rage. These are the things that nourish rebellion.

As hunger began to increase, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai, a leader of the moderate camp, summoned the leader of the zealots, Abba Sikra, to try and find a solution. The Gemara explains that this happened privately. No-one knew about the meeting but the two of them.

Abba Sikra (or Sikkara) is the name the Jewish sages attached to one of the leaders of the rebellion, who was named Ben Batich (or Batiach). This mysterious person was likely linked to the sect known as the Sicarii. The Gemara tells of his large and exceptionally imposing figure and how his fist was the size of an average man’s head.

The Sicarii were a sect of zealots who fought the Romans and who are primarily famous for their role in the last stand of Jewish rebels at the desert fortress of Masada, where many of them eventually committed suicide.

But Abba Sikra was also a blood relative of Yochanan Ben Zakkai – he was the son of the Rabbi’s sister. Thus did two members of the same family find themselves leading opposite sides in the bitter divide which had torn the Jewish People apart during an existential war. Now they came together in a desperate attempt to salvage what was possible.

“Why do you act in such a manner? Will you kill us by famine?” Ben Zakkai asked Abba Sikra in their secret meeting (Gittin 56a). The rebel leader suddenly didn’t seem so tough. He shrugged his shoulders and replied “What shall I do? If I tell them anything of the kind, they will slay me.”

The rebel leader admitted to his uncle that he had little sway over his soldiers, who were so caught up in the fight that even he couldn’t get them to think of doing otherwise.

With the hope of saving Jerusalem gone, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai understood that he had no choice but to leave the city. Consulting his nephew, the rebel leader, he asked him to think of some solution, some way to get him out. The only way out, Abba Sikra explained, was death.

And this is exactly what Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai did. He disguised himself as a shrouded corpse, asking his two faithful students – Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Eliezer – to take him outside the walls, ostensibly to bury him there. Once out, he met with the Roman general and future emperor Vespasian, who was besieging the city. Ben Zakkai asked the general to give him the town of Yavneh and its sages, guaranteeing the survival of a remnant of a glorious nation whose world had been destroyed.

Grave of Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai in Tiberias. Photo: Rudi Weissenstein, all rights reserved for the Photohouse, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, National Library of Israel

There, at Yavneh, Yochanan Ben Zakkai created the Jewish world as it would continue to exist for the next two thousand years. He rebuilt Judaism after the destruction. Some say the Jewish People still exists thanks to him.

But some judge him more harshly, and Ben Zakkai’s actions have been the subject of much criticism over the generations. Should he not have fought harder for Jerusalem and the Holy Temple? Maybe he shouldn’t have given up, instead working to convince the Roman general to not destroy his city? For all the criticism, though, there was widespread recognition among the Jewish sages that Judaism was still alive and kicking thanks to him.

A 19^th century photo of the entrance to a burial cave in what is today Sanhedria Park, in the heart of the neighborhood of Sanhedria in north Jerusalem. From the Lenkin Family Collection at the University of Pennsylvania Library, the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection, the National Library of Israel

Generations of Israelis have been raised on the story of Masada, which tells of how the rebels resisted to the last drop of blood, and preferred to take their own lives rather than surrender. But even as these zealots and extremists were taking drastic action which would be mythologized for centuries, Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai and his students were sitting in Yavneh and studying. They chose a different option, one which exalts moderation and the ability to find solutions, even in the midst of an existential conflict.

What can we learn from Rabbi Yochanan Ben Zakkai? He teaches us that even if reality is complex and difficult, one can always find a solution, regardless of what side you’re on.

The 9^th of Av (Tisha B’Av), the day of the Hebrew calendar on which the Holy Temple was destroyed, is an appropriate day for placing faith in the Jewish People, who survived the destruction and pogroms and always managed to continue marching forward.