In a book published several years ago entitled Keter: The Crown of God in Early Jewish Mysticism,1. Keter: The Crown of God in Early Jewish Mysticism. (Henceforth: Keter) Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1997. I tried to make a modest contribution to the ongoing discussion of Kabbalistic symbols and their origins. There I traced the evolution of a single but key symbol from its place in rabbinic aggadah and early Jewish esotericism to its fixed role in the Kabbalistic symbol system of the High Middle Ages. Here I would like to repeat that process with regard to another major symbolic element of Kabbalah, considering broadly the role of the female within the godhead, particularly under the twin rubrics of shekhinah, the indwelling Presence, and kenesset yisra'el, the hypostatized “Community of Israel.” The positing of a female aspect within the divine self has to be seen against the background of the entire tradition of Jewish imaging of God, going back to the Bible and the early rabbis. Specifically, however, I plan to show that the unequivocal feminization of shekhinah in the Kabbalah of the thirteenth century is a Jewish response to and adaptation of the revival of devotion to Mary in the twelfth century Western church.

In a letter dated October 19, 1917, Franz Rosenzweig—the German Jewish philosopher considered by many to be one of the central Jewish thinkers of the twentieth century—writes the following: “I can definitely understand . . . him [a common friend] being an antisemite for religious reasons. . . . [But] that he is an antisemite for racial reasons [Rassewegen]—I am very sorry [I cannot understand such a thing], because for him this is simply following the spirit of the times!”F. Rosenzweig, Briefe und Tagebücher, in Franz Rosenzweig: Der Mensch und sein Werk [= Gesammelte Schriften] (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1979), 1: 473 (an Margrit Rosenstock). Further on Rosenzweig criticizes the “scandal” of hatred of the Jews that is even found among Christians who became Jews (a distinction that emphasizes the racial—and not religious—origins of this hatred.)

The Sephardic community of Hamburg was founded by Portuguese conversos who had settled in the Hamburg area during the three decades prior to 1611. In that year, after receiving permission to form a Jewish community in Hamburg, the conversos purchased from Christian IV, king of Denmark, a tract of land near the town of Altona for use as a cemetery. During most of the time period discussed in this article, Altona was under the crown of Denmark, while Hamburg was an independent Hanseatic city ruled by a senate of burghers. Today, Altona is a district of the city of Hamburg, within walking distance of the city's historic center.

The story of the composition and reception of the sixteenth-century code of Jewish law, the Shulḥan ‘Arukh, has been told by many scholars, including my late teacher, Professor Isadore Twersky.Isadore Twersky, “The Shulḥan ‘Arukh: Enduring Code of Jewish Law,” Judaism 16 (1967), 141–158, reprinted in The Jewish Expression, ed. Judah Goldin (New Haven, 1976), pp. 322–343. Cf. Isadore Twersky, “Ha-Rav Yosef Qaro ba‘al ha-Shulḥan ‘Arukh,” Asufot 3 (1989), 245–262. See also Chaim Tchernowitz, Toledot ha-Posqim, vol. 3 (New York, 1947); Yizhaq Raphael, ed., Rabi Yosef Qaro: ‘Iyunim u-meḥqarim be-mishnat Maran Ba‘al ha-Shulḥan ‘Arukh (Jerusalem, 1969); Menachem Elon, Ha-Mishpat ha-‘Ivri: toledotav, meqorotav, ‘eqronotav, 2nd ed. (Jerusalem, 1978); Asher Siev (Ziv), Rabeinu Mosheh Isserles (Rema) (New York, 1972); R. J. Zwi Werblowsky, Joseph Karo: Lawyer and Mystic, rev. ed. (Philadelphia, 1977); Meir Benayahu, Yosef Beḥiri: Maran Rabi Yosef Qaro (Jerusalem, 1991); Israel Ta-Shma, “Rabbi Joseph Caro and His Beit Yosef: Between Spain and Germany,” in Moreshet Sepharad: The Sephardi Legacy, ed. Haim Beinart, vol. 2 (Jerusalem, 1992), pp. 192–206 (the article originally appeared in Hebrew in Tarbiz 59 [1990]: 153–170); Eric (Yizhaq) Zimmer, Gaḥalatan shel Ḥakhamim: peraqim be-toledot ha-rabanut be-Germanyah ba-me'ah ha-shesh-‘esreh uva-me'ah ha-sheva‘-‘esreh (Jerusalem, 1999), pp. 177–237. It is intertwined with a second story, namely, the formation of Ashkenazic Jewish identity.An excellent recent study of identity-formation among a group of early modern Jews is Miriam Bodian, Hebrews of the Portuguese Nation: Conversos and Community in Early Modern Amsterdam (Bloomington, IN, 1997). The formation of Polish Jewish identity was the topic of Adam Teller's lecture, “Yeven Metzula and the Formation of Jewish Self-Consciousness in Eastern Europe,” which I was privileged to hear, and which is expected to appear in Jewish History in a special issue on the massacres of 1648. On the treatment of Ashkenazic and Sefardic Jews in Jewish historiography, see Ismar Schorsch, “The Myth of Sephardic Supremacy,” Leo Baeck Institute Year Book 34 (1989), 47–66. On halakhic aspects of the differences between the two groups, see Hirsch Jacob Zimmels, Ashkenazim and Sephardim: Their Relations, Differences, and Problems as Reflected in the Rabbinical Responsa (Oxford, 1958).

It is astounding how much scholars find to say about the writings of Maimonides.1. Amazon.com lists 120 books with the name “Maimonides” in the title. (Yahoo.com lists 95. The Arizona State University Library, whose collection in Judaica, especially in Jewish philosophy, is in no way distinguished, possesses 107 books with the name “Maimonides” in the title.) That means that there a minimum of 120 books currently in print in the United States that deal with what Maimonides had to say. Similarly, the Philosopher's Index, whose subject matter is limited to scholarly essays in philosophy, dating back no further than 1940, lists 220 entries. The total list of written works on Maimonides, of course, is much larger. These 120 books and 220 articles are almost exclusively works written in English published in the final half of the twentieth century. This numerical breadth in itself suggests two things. First, it is not possible for any scholars to be sure that their coverage of the secondary material is complete. To remain current on all that is published about Maimonides is a full-time job, one that leaves little opportunity to actually write about him. Second, it is not conceivable for any Rambam scholars to think that what they publish is the “final word” on what Maimonides intended to say on any topic. If you want to take a critical stance you could say that what he wrote is too fuzzy for that, but I would say, more constructively, that Maimonides' writings are too rich in depth and complexity for us to ever exhaust what he wrote. That richness in itself is one of the reasons for studying and teaching Maimonides. It is a good indication why Maimonides' theology properly ranks among the greatest bodies of work in the history of philosophy.

Biblical sources that speak of God's participation in human courts notwithstanding, the judicial decision-making process is a human act.On biblical sources, see Ḥanina Ben-Menaḥem, “Postscript: The Judicial Process and the Nature of Jewish Law,” in An Introduction to the History and Sources of Jewish Law, ed. N. Hecht et al. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1996), pp. 423–424, 434. Rabbinic authorities, like judges in other legal systems, are fully subject to the many factors beyond the formal rubric of the law that influence interpretation, including educational background and personal experiences and values.From a historical perspective, there is no place for conjectures that halakhic decision-making simply uncovers what was already revealed at Sinai or that it reflects ongoing divine revelation. See the summary of such views in Aaron Kirschenbaum, “Subjectivity in Rabbinic Decision-Making,” in Rabbinic Authority and Personal Autonomy, ed. Moshe Sokol (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson, 1992), pp. 63–64, 66–67. A criticism of judges as “living oracles” of the law who simply pronounce the meaning of various statutes in general jurisprudence can be found in Jerome Frank, Law and the Modern Mind (1930; reprint ed., Gloucester, MA: Peter Smith, 1970), pp. 35–36. Still, construing jurists may not always be aware of the existence of such non-legal considerations in their thought, and the influence that such concerns wield may rest just beneath their consciousness.See Benjamin Cardozo, The Nature of the Judicial Process (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1921), p. 167. Even when they were aware of the influence of extra-legal factors, medieval and pre-modern Ashkenazic rabbis seldom, if ever, revealed them in the course of their halakhic discussions, for the halakhah, like any other legal system, has its own terms of discourse that rarely admit uncloaked expressions of extra-legal concerns into its process of reasoning.Hanina Ben-Menahem, Judicial Deviation in Talmudic Law (Chur: Harwood, 1991), p. 13, argues that extralegal considerations were accepted in the decision-making process of the Babylonian Talmud but were rendered normative halakhic criteria by their incorporation into the halakhah by post-talmudic authorities. An extended discussion of extra-halakhic considerations in the legal thinking of Rabbi David Ibn Zimra (Egypt, Safed; 1479–1573) can be found in Samuel Morell, “Darkei ha-shikul be-meṣiut ha-speṣifit be-piskat ha-RaDBaZ,” in ‘Atarah le-Ḥayyim: Meḥkarim be-sifrut ha-talmudit ve-ha-rabbanit le-khevod Professor Ḥayyim Zalman Dimitrovski, ed. Daniel Boyarin et al. (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, 2000), pp. 413–438. On the question of determining matters based on internal legal standards alone, see Ernest Weinrib, The Idea of Private Law (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1995), pp. 12–13, 23–24, comments germane to the halakhic endeavor as well.

The following article has emerged from an experimental, interdisciplinary course, co-taught by the authors in the fall of 1996, entitled “Exile: Jews, Literature, and History.” From the dozens of primary texts used in the course, we have selected six to illustrate the literary-conceptual analysis employed. Beyond the intrinsic aesthetic appeal of the passages, they have been chosen to exemplify the diversity of relevant material: in genre (poetry, disputational and homiletical literature, drama, fiction, memoir), cultural-historical context over the past millenium (Muslim and Christian Spain, eastern Europe, twentieth-century Egypt and Israel), community (Sephardic, Ashkenazic, and Middle Eastern Jews) and language of authorship (Hebrew, Arabic, and English). Starting with one of the most familiar texts of post-biblical Jewish literature, we move in the modern period to decidedly less-known works, challenging simplistic assumptions about “canon” in research about the Jewish past. The juxtaposition of pre-modern and modern texts is intended to highlight both the continuities and the ruptures brought by the twentieth century.The authors would like to express their gratitude to the William T. Kemper Foundation for sponsoring the Faculty Award program at Washington University in St. Louis that supported the development of this course.

In this monumental book, Paul Heger attempts to explain how synagogue recital of biblical texts replaced the sacrificial cult (p. 366). He posits that gradual disaffection with the Temple enabled the rabbis to institute synagogue ritual for sacrifice even while the second Temple stood. The work is wide-ranging, yet focused, and provides a detailed history of the cult from the Bronze Age until the destruction of the second Temple. The first half is a diachronic study of the three biblical altar laws. The second half investigates the impact of Ahaz, Josiah, Ezra and Nehemiah, the Maccabees, and finally the rabbis on attitudes toward temple sacrifice.

Biography is not a genre usually associated with the academic study of the Bible, but it has found a small niche therein. The University of South Carolina publishes the series called “Personalities of the Old Testament,” in which Steussy's volume is the eighth, and Oxford University Press will soon release what may be considered a companion to McKenzie's book, King Josiah of Judah by Marvin A. Sweeney. The advantage of biography is that it can encompass literary, historical, and archeological information, uniting them holistically around the focal point of a biblical figure, or as holistically as the author chooses. As a heuristic device, biblical biography may serve well even if the subject of the biography is fictional, or suspected of being so. (The “Personalities” series has volumes on Noah, Jonah, Esther and Daniel, hardly the most “historical” of characters.) When it comes to David, suspicions about his fictionality are at an all-time high. While the historicity of Abraham has been in doubt for some time, it was, until recently, axiomatic that one could speak with confidence about the early history of the Israelite monarchy and could draw on the books of Samuel and Kings as primary sources, or at least as containing remnants of primary sources for the period of the united monarchy. Now that confidence has been shaken; the very existence of a united monarchy is being questioned by some scholars, especially the “minimalists,” who see its “primary sources” (the Deuteronomistic History) as a fabrication from the Persian or Hellenistic period.1. See G. N. Knoppers, “The Vanishing Solomon: The Disappearance of the United Monarchy from Recent Histories of Ancient Israel,” Journal of Biblical Literature 116 (1997): 19–44. For a representative of the minimalist view see K. W. Whitelam, “The History of Israel: Foundations of Israel” in Text in Context, edited by A. D. H. Mayes (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 376–402. A battle currently rages among historians of ancient Israel between the minimalists and their opponents (not all of whom are “maximalists”) about the antiquity and the reliability of the Deuteronomistic History as a historical source.2. The names prominent among the minimalists are Philip Davies, Niels Lemche, Thomas Thompson, and Keith Whitelam. The bibliography on this debate is large and growing. For an overview see Amy Dockser Marcus, The View from Nebo (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 2000), 105–128, 256–257.

Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting the representational realist painter Israel Hershberg in his Jerusalem studio, where he was busy working on a small painting, one of a series of “tree portraits.” It was an exquisite work, in which each dappling of light on every needle of a towering cypress was exactingly represented on a miniature scale. But I was startled to see that, while he had blocked out the shape of the tree and the general parameters of light and shade “in the wild,” this champion of rendering from life was actually completing most of the painting in the studio. At first I thought the tree must be outside the window, or that he must be working from a photograph, but when I asked him where the detailing was coming from, he tapped his finger to his forehead.

“Though [Ludwig] Lewisohn lacked to a remarkable degree the ability to look beyond his own ideas,” wrote the literary critic and memoirist Alfred Kazin, “he had at least one paramount service to perform, and he failed in it as much for reasons beyond his control as through his own rigidity of mind and supreme lack of humility. For what Lewisohn was always declaiming, out of his self-consciousness in America and his Hebraism, was . . . that if a writer is not rooted in a native culture, if he does not belong or find happiness in his belonging, he is nothing.”See Alfred Kazin, On Native Grounds: An Interpretation of Modern American Prose Literature (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1942), pp. 280–281.

The JPS Torah/Bible Commentary series has already produced some exceptional commentaries that have immensely enriched biblical scholarship, and Uriel Simon's Jonah commentary is a worthy addition to this series. He concludes that the Book of Jonah was composed during the Second Temple period, mainly because of the late Hebrew language, but he does not find sufficient grounds to decide between a sixth-, fifth-, or even fourth-century date. Nor does Simon believe that the book offers evidence for reconstructing a particular social-political context that would help to define a special target audience. He concludes that, like the Book of Job, which was also composed in the Second Temple period and which also featured non-Jews among its cast of characters, the Book of Jonah was written during a period in which theodicy was a dominant concern within the Jewish community.

This book, by the late professor of biblical studies at Hebrew Union College, Cincinnati, is a companion volume to his Toward a Grammar of Biblical Poetics (Oxford, 1992), in which, by utilizing rhetorical or poetic techniques, he first made the case for the aesthetic wholeness of the Hebrew Bible. Whereas the first volume analyzed narrative texts relating to the prophets, in this volume Herbert Brichto devotes his literary analysis to the early Genesis narratives, including the Creation, Flood, and Abraham stories.

In this book (a translation of a revised version of the second Hebrew edition), the late Professor Benjamin Uffenheimer examines a variety of topics in the history of prophecy from the time of Moses until the time of Elisha. The book includes extensive discussions of all the prophetic figures in this period, focussing on the relation between preclassical prophecy on the one hand and magic, divination, and rationalistic or monotheistic trends on the other. Uffenheimer also devotes a lengthy chapter to alleged parallels to Israel prophecy among ancient Egyptians, Mesopotamians, and Northwest Semites.

Benjamin D. Sommer elevates the analysis of inner-biblical interpretation to the next level of sophistication and rigor in this volume, a substantially revised version of his University of Chicago doctoral dissertation written under the direction of Michael Fishbane. He focuses on the reuse of older biblical material in a specific biblical text, Isaiah 40–66. These chapters of the book of Isaiah, seen as an addition made a century and a half later to Isaiah 1–39, are assigned to an anonymous sixth-century prophet called, for the sake of convenience, Deutero-Isaiah. By treating the reuse of older biblical material in Deutero-Isaiah, Sommer is able to delineate what might be distinctive in Deutero-Isaiah's methods of inner-biblical interpretation, a desirable next step in the analysis of inner-biblical interpretation. What is impressive in Sommer's book is his ability to move to larger issues in biblical studies and to parallel issues in other academic and intellectual pursuits often ignored in biblical studies. The book also exhibits a clarity of writing and argument in what in many ways is a highly technical subject.

Eugene Ulrich is John A. O'Brien Professor of Hebrew Scriptures at the University of Notre Dame. Since his graduate student days at Harvard in the early 1970s, he has been studying and writing about the biblical text, that is, the text of the Hebrew Bible as transmitted and translated in antiquity. His primary claim to academic fame, and at one point public notoriety, is his ongoing leadership in editing and publishing the Dead Sea Scrolls. It is Ulrich's interpretations of these scrolls in the context of the history and development of the biblical text that form the subject of the first eight of his essays collected here. These essays, especially the first six, are also bound to be the most interesting to nonspecialists. (The remainder of the book is taken up with fairly technical discussions of the Septuagint and the Old Latin.)

Boccaccini makes two important contributions in this work: he employs the methods of intellectual history to give a novel account of the origins of the Qumran community and he seeks to overcome the supersessionism characteristic of Christian studies of ancient Judaism.

As Robert P. Gordon's foreword explains, Michael Perry Weitzman's Syriac Version of the Old Testament was originally projected as the first of two volumes on the subject. One can only concur with Gordon that Dr. Weitzman's recent death is a great loss to the academic community as well as to family and friends.

This volume explores two major questions: “What is that makes a Jew a Jew, and a non-Jew a non-Jew?” and “Can a gentile become a Jew?” (p. 2). The term “Jew” was ambiguous because “there was no single or simple definition of Jew in antiquity . . . ,” and there were no “empirical or ‘objective' criteria by which to determine who was ‘really' a Jew. . . . Jewishness was a subjective identity, constructed by the individual . . . other Jews, other gentiles, and the state” (p. 3). Cohen points to Herod to demonstrate that one could be called a Jew and an Idumean at the same time (p. 23).

Erich S. Gruen, a leading Greco-Roman historian, here presents the results of several years of research in the field of Jewish history. Positioning himself as the gadfly in his adopted field, he describes certain consensus positions of scholars in Jewish studies and proceeds seriatim to question or deconstruct them. This makes for interesting reading, and in some cases a significant challenge to the standard views of textbooks on the subject. Only some of his challenges can be mentioned here.