Schlagwort: Tagin

A footnote from the Gotha Research Library, written with “effort and acuratesse”

Annett Martini

The Gotha Research Library holds a beautifully calligraphed instruction for copying Torah scrolls and haftarot. The writing instruction was recorded in 1726 by the converted Jew Christoph Wallich (1672-1743). On a large sheet of paper 50 cm high and 35 cm wide, the former professional sofer STaM and trained Hazan offers a non-Jewish readership insight into the writing of the texts to be used in the Jewish rite. Both sheets are headed with a few explanatory remarks in German, whereby most of the capital letters of the short introduction are decorated with skillfully crafted, intertwining ornamental patterns. 

Sheet 1 reads:

Nach dem (תיקון סופרים) verordnung der Schreibern wird die ספר תורה Sepher Thora auf z. bis 66 grosse Häute von Kalb Pergamen auf der Haar Seite vor 300 thlr. in einem Jahr geschrieben.

[According to the (תיקון סופרים) decree of the scribes, the ספר תורה Sepher Torah is written on up to 66 large skins of calf parchment on the hair side for 300 thalers, written in a year.]

As an illustrative example, the verses Genesis 1:1-19 are cited below, as they were written by Wallich with his characteristic love for detail just beneath the lines previously drawn with a pencil. The Ashkenazic square script is decorated with fine lines running upwards or downwards at the left corners of the letter bodies; in almost all cases, the lamed features two lines extending upwards at the higher end of the neck, and occasionally the lamed also receives a slightly curved hairline at the lower end. Eventually, the seven letters shin, ayin, teth, nun, zayin, gimel and zade are adorned with three small crowns, as already recommended in the Talmud. Wallich sometimes adds an additional stroke to the shin or zade.

Below this impressive writing sample, Wallich provides us with some insight into several of the fundamental requirements of a ritually pure Torah scroll that the scribe ought to know:

Mit dieser art höhe u. breite der Hebräische Buchstaben wird die gröste Thora geschrieben. Die Zierlichkeit u. schärffe wird auf dem Pergamen viel besser u. sauberer. Der Schreiber hütet sich laut sein schwehr getahnes Eyd folgenden Namen Gottes als שדי,אל, אדני, אלהים, יהוה nicht die buchstaben radirt, denn es darf überhaupt kein Buchstab den anderen anrühren. Auf etlichen Litteren als שעטנז גץ müßen die תגים Drei strichleim auf die Köpffe, u. wo ein פ mit ein Dagesch Forte komt, muß ein Pe Kefula gemacht werden als ויפח. Am schwehrsten ist, daß der Schreiber folgende Wörter gewiß oben auf dem Pergamen Zum anfang bringen muß als Genesis XLIX.8 יהודה, Exodus XXXIV.11 שמר לך, it. Exod. XIV.29 הבאים, Levit. XVI.8 שני, Numeri. XXIV.5 מה טבו u. Deuter. XXXI.8.[sic.]ואעידה. Ohne die sehr viele Observationes, die der Schreiber (wo ers כושר dichtig u. acurat machen will) Observiren muß, alle hierher zu setzen, will Zeit und Raum nicht gestatten. Auf Linien (die nicht mit der Bley Feder, sondern (בשיטות) mit einer ritze muß gemacht werden) muß der Schreiber der verordnung gemäß schreiben. Die Zusammenhefftung der Häute darf mit keiner Seide noch Zwern sondern geschieht mit Seyten.

[With this kind of height and width of the Hebrew letters the largest Torah is written. The delicacy and sharpness is much better and cleaner on the parchment. The scribe is careful not to erase the following names of God as שדי, אל, אדני, אלהים, יהוה, according to his own oath, because no letter may touch another. On some letters, such as שעטנז גץ, the tagin must be made of three strokes on the letter heads, and where a פ comes with a Dagesch Forte, a Pe Kefula must be made such as is the case with ויפח. The most difficult thing is that the scribe must certainly put the following words at the top of the parchment, at the beginning [of the column], as Genesis XLIX.8 יהודה, Exodus XXXIV.11 שמר לך it. Exod. XIV.29 הבאים, Levit. XVI.8 שני, Numbers. XXIV.5 מה טבו u. Deuter. XXXI.[2]8. ואעידה. Without the many observations which the scribe (where he wants to make them dense and accurate) has to observe, time and space will not permit to place them all here, [the scroll is] not kosher. The scribe should write on lines (which must not be made with a plumb quill, but (בשיטות) should be scrached) according to the regulations.The sewing together of the skins must not be done with silk or twine but with strings made of sinew]

Forschungsbibliothek Gotha, AG 24a

Wallich summarizes for a layperson the most important requirements for a ritually pure Torah scroll: the obligatory parchment, the line drawing, and the sewing of the leaves with sinew are all mentioned, as are the tagin, the repairing of the names of God, and the scribal tradition. The latter is referred to with the acronym ביה שמו- bejah šemo, suggesting that six columns of a Torah scroll should begin with a specific word. Here Wallich refers to the Ashkenazi tradition, according to which the beit stands for berešit (Gen 1:1), the he for habba’im (Ex 14:28), and the vav for the word wea’idah (Deut 31:28). The yud refers to the first letter of the word yehudah (Gen 49:8), the šin to the first letter of the word šemor (Ex 34:11), and the mem stands for mah tobu (Num 24:5). 

These explanations do not probe the depths of the Jewish writing practice, but rather are intended to give an impression of the expert knowledge that is required for this demanding work.

Wallich proceeds in a similar way on the second sheet, where the copying of the haftarot is described, likewise accompanied with a writing sample. This is remarkable since rabbinic literature as well as scribal manuals are primarily concerned with the writing of the STaM and – if at all – with the copying of the megillot.

Wallich first notes:

Die (הפטרות) HAPHTAROTH werden mit Puncten u. Accenten geschrieben dahero erforderts eine große mühe und Acuratesse. Die anfangs Wörter werden ohne Figur Gravirt.

[The (הפטרות) haftarot are written with punctuation and accents, so it requires great effort and accuracy. The initial words are engraved without figures.]

This brief remark is followed by another writing example, drawn from the Haftarah Yeshayahu to the Parashah Genesis 1:1-6:8, which corresponds to the prophetic passage Isaiah 42:5-25. Wallich manages to transmit the passage with just a few embellishments to the letters in the form of fine hairlines, for example, on the lamed or the pe. Yet, the first words of the haftarah – כֹּה-אָמַ֞ר – are enlarged and decorated with floral ornaments that are entwined with the first letters.

Wallich explains below the artistically written prophet section:

Zu solcher schrifft brauchen die HAPHTAROTH 28 biß 30 völlige Pergamen Häute, Jedoch etwas kleiner als die bey dem Thora. Wegen der gar zugroße Mühe u. Fleisses ist die Schreib-gebühr dafür 150 Thlr. Von beyden Stücken wird die helffte des Schreiber-Lohns gleich bey liefferung des Pergamends Praenumeriert u. die andere helffte bey der liefferung gezahlt. Sechs bis sieben Monathen ist die Zeit die Haptaroth zu schreiben u. Collationiren. Das Pergamen anlanget so kostet Jede große Haut Zum Thora 16 gr. Und zu den Haphtaroth 12 gr. Sie werden vom Schreiber expresse dazu ausgesucht. Diese zwei Stücke sind in eiener vornehmen Bibliothec höchst nöthig u. nützlich u. werden vor einen grossen raritet unter Christen gehalten, weillen kein Jude einem Chriften nicht vor viel Geld solche Stücke weder verkauffen noch schreiben darf. Ich weiß keinen bekehrten Juden, der eim Sopher u. (ohne ruhm) mir diese Schreibart nachthun wird, dathero nach meinem Tode meine Hebräischen Schrifften viel geld gilten werden. Christ. Wallich 1726.

[With this script [size], the haftaroth require 28 to 30 complete parchment skins, but somewhat smaller than those of the Torah. Because of the great effort and diligence involved, the scribe’s fee is 150 Thalers. Half of the scribe’s fee is paid when the parchment is delivered, and the other half is paid when [the project] is completed. Six to seven months is the time [needed] to write the haftarot. The parchment costs 16 groschen for each large skin for the Torah, and 12 groschen for the haftarot. The skins are selected in advance by the scribe.
These two pieces are highly necessary and useful in a noble library and are considered a great rarity among Christians because a Jew may neither sell nor write such pieces for a Christian, not even for much money. I know of no converted Jew who is a sofer and (and without praising myself) can hold a candle to me in this art of writing, thus after my death, my Hebrew writings will be valued at much money. Christ. Wallich 1726.]

Forschungsbibliothek Gotha, AG 24a

Finally, the question remains as to who Wallich wrote these sample pages and the corresponding explanations? These two representative sheets actually evoke the impression that Wallich was advertising his skills in the art of Jewish writing in order to impress Christian customers. Apparently, converted Jews like Wallich still benefited from the interest in the Jewish tradition shown by Christian scholars, an interest which had already emerged at the beginning of the 16th century. The Enlightenment also saw a growing interest in the customs and rituals of Jewish teaching. This was approached with historical source criticism and an emphatically rational perspective – often fueled by pronounced anti-Semitism.

In fact, another document held in the Gotha Research Library allows us to understand the intended purpose of these remarkable sheets. A letter written by Wallich on 29 August 1726 in Leipzig to Ernst Salomon Cyprian, a Gotha church councillor and vice-president of the High Consistory, reveals that Wallich had already written various manuscripts for the ‘Meyersche Judenschule’ a few years earlier. The ‘Meyersche Judenschule’ was a project initiated by Johann Friedrich Mayer (1650–1712) at the University of Greifswald. As part of it, Jewish ritual objects were installed in the synagogue as an educational exhibition for students. Wallich, who had been registered at the University of Greifswald since 1706, was actively involved in this project. He equipped this educational synagogue with ritual objects and also contributed the corresponding explanations. Once this educational synagogue had later become part of the university library’s collection, Wallich enriched the exhibition in 1724, now called “Mayer’s Judenschule,” with a selection of ritually relevant writings from the Jewish tradition.

The abovementioned letter to Cyprian not only reveals which writings Wallich’s copied for the synagogue. We also learn from this letter what the sample sheets discussed above were all about:

[S. 1] … Man glaubet aber doch, daß Ihro Hoch Fürstl. Durchl. noch bei denen gedancken sind, Deroselben Weltberühmten Bibliothec antweder mit einer richtig verfertigte Synagoga oder doch zum wenigsten mit die nützlich u. vornemsten Stücken (als die ס״ תורה Sepher Thora, הפטרות Haphtaroth, שם המפורש Schem hamphorasch u. מגלות אסתר Megilloth Esther etc.) zu versehen. Aus dieser Ursache habe ich bey [S. 2] Ewr Hochw. Magific. meine gringe Persohn bekannt zu machen gewünschet. Ich habe schon ehedeßen dieselebre Mayerische Synagoge u. vor 2 Jahr dem […] Rath der Stadt Leipzig binnen ein Jahrlang hier auf der anderen Seite gemelten nöthigen Stücken in einer Extra Zierlichkeit – wie hibeyligenden Proben zeiget – geschrieben, wovon der vor kurtzer Zeit hier durch u. nach Warschau Passirter Frantzöscher Ambassadeur selbst gestehen müssen, daß seinem König solche vortreffliche Stücke in seiner Bibliothec fehleten.

[(p. 1) It is believed, however, that Your Most Serene Highnesses are still thinking of providing this world-famous library either with a properly prepared synagogue or at least with the most useful and most important pieces (as the ס״ תורה Sepher Torah, הפטרות haftarot, שם המפורש Shem Hamephorasch and מגלות אסתר Megillot Esther etc.). For this reason I have wished to make my low person known to [p. 2] Your Reverend Magnificant. I have already built the ‘Mayer’s Synagogue’ and two years ago, within a year, I produced the abovementioned necessary pieces for the […] Leipzig City Council with a particular delicacy – as the enclosed samples show – of which the French ambassador, who recently passed through here and in Warsaw, himself had to confess that his king lacked such excellent pieces in his library.]

It appears that Wallich extended to Cyprian an offer to both set up a synagogue for the library of the sovereign of Saxe-Gotha-Altenburg, designated for teaching purposes in the style of the ‘Mayerian Synagogue,’ and to provide it with appropriate ritual texts. Wallich enclosed samples of the Sefer Torah and the haftarot with his letter so as to convince Cyprian and – through him – the sovereign of his expertise in the art of Jewish writing. Wallich also added a few details about his career to this “letter of application,” which should not be withheld here:

[3] Meine gringe Person anlanget bin ich in Worms von reichen Jüdischen Eltern gebohren u. habe unter dem (unter den Juden gewesenen berühmten (רב Rabh) Rabbi Ahron Darschon das Rabbnische Studirt. Und weillen ich lust zu Schreiberey hatte, hat mein (gottgebe Seelig) verstorbenen Vatter das Sophroth (סופרות) Schreibkunst mich verlernert lassen u. bin ein Examinirter berühmter (סופר) Schreiber geworden, auch viermahl das Thora, eben so viel Haphtaroth u. viele Mesusoth, Kameoth, Tephillin u. ein Scheide Brieff unten Juden gantz Koscher geschrieben. (Leipzig, 29. August 1726)

[(3) As for my minor person: I was born in Worms of rich Jewish parents and studied rabbinics under the famous (רב Rabh) Rabbi Ahron Darschon. And because I had a desire to write, my deceased father (God rest his soul) taught me the art of writing and I became an examinated famous (סופר) scribe, also writing the Torah four times, as many haftarot and many mezuzot, Kameoth, tefillin, and a get, which is kosher among Jews.
(Leipzig, 29 August 1726)]

The two rather coincidental finds from our project week in Gotha lead deep into Jewish-German relations at the beginning of the 18th century and certainly merit closer examination.

Briefe an Ernst Salomon Cyprian, Bd.9, 1717

The First of its Kind: A Retrospective on Our Online Workshop (6-8 Nov 2023): Origin, History, and Interpretation of the Tagin and Otiyyot Meshunnot for Writing the STaM

Annett Martini & Dana Eichhorst

A paleographic particularity of the Jewish scribal tradition is that some letters of the strongly standardised square script featured within Torah scrolls are adorned with crownlets (tagin) or written in an unusual way (otiyyot meshunnot). Not the focus of academic discourse of the past, these decorations took the centre stage of our workshop Origin, History, and Interpretation of the Tagin and Otiyyot Meshunnot for Writing the STaM.

The Talmud specifies the seven letters gimel, zayin, tet, ayin, nun, tsade, and shin (ShaʿAṬNeZ GeṢ) for this uncommon letter ornamentation. Yet, mediaeval written testimonies from the time of the 12th to the 15th centuries (and some later testimonies of this phenomenon within the Megillot) present numerous exceptions to this antique limit and a remarkable wealth of different ornaments. Legal scholars from different regions saw in the unusual curlicues, arcs, little flags, and dashes a threat posed to the authentic gestalt of a Sefer Torah, and they urged for uniformity. However, even the standard work Sefer ha-tagin (10th/11th c.), which was widely received in scribe circles and provided copyists with a precise listing of words and letters for such modifications, could not curb the enthusiasm for these letter ornamentations.

Parallel to this uncommon writing practice, an exegetical tradition began to develop by which these crownlets and unusually written letters, and also the standardised letterforms were interpreted from rabbinic-ethical, mystical, and philosophical perspectives.

The goal of our workshop, which took place online from Nov 6-8, 2023, was to discuss the phenomenon of the tagin and otiyyot meshunnot for writing the STaM from two perspectives.

First, as a paleographic tradition that has developed different regional characteristics over time. Manuscript evidence of halakhic treatises on the correct visual appearance of these signs testify to a lively debate on the forms of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot. The authors or copyists of these writings in different times and regions gave manyfold examples which reveal the enormous richness of shapes. Moreover, the artefacts themselves – scrolls and even codices, dating from the Middle Ages and modern times (here especially the Megillot) – surprise with a great wealth of variants. The workshop aimed to provide an opportunity to present material witnesses, new insights into the origin of tagin, and various sources for describing the shape of the unusual letters. 

Second, as a subject of exegesis: Research has almost completely neglected the numerous exegetical approaches towards the forms of the tagin and otiyyot meshunnot that flourished especially in the Middle Ages, although this literature provides deep insight into both the intellectual history and the cultural memory of Diaspora Jewry. The workshop opened up space for rabbinic, mystical, philosophical, and educational conceptions regarding these special letters to determine which role they played on a metaphysical level.

When we started planning our workshop, we assumed that we would gather together a handful of colleagues interested in this paleographic peculiarity of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot. The overwhelming response to our Call for Papers, published more as a formality than anything else, though, surprised us: Scholars from around the world dedicate themselves to these special letters. Reading their abstracts, which approach the topic of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot from many different perspectives, was an exciting activity, as was putting together an incredibly rich and diverse programme. This workshop presented the very first opportunity for scholars of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot to come together, share and discuss their research. 

Day One

The first presenter to start was Robert VanHoff. In his lecture, Robert dealt with an incredibly interesting phenomenon of the Masoretic tradition, namely the different visual representations of the divine name in the works of the Tiberian scribes Ahron ben Asher and Ephraim ben Buya’ah. There is no doubt that the divine name already received special attention in the ancient Jewish scribal tradition, as reflected in distinctive markings. This is all the more interesting as there are also indications in mediaeval Torah scroll witnesses of a practice of writing the tetragrammaton that deviates from the normal scribal flow.

To shed light on the phenomenon of letter decorations in the Middle Ages, Mark Farnadi Jerusálmi took us further back in time. He posits that letter shapes found in mosaic inscriptions in Byzantine synagogues provide insight into the development from ziyyunim to the mediaeval tagin (crowns). He, therefore, compared the ShaʿAṬNeZ GeṢ group from ancient mosaics with the shape of letters from manuscripts in the classical sense, written on parchment, and investigated the evolution of these graphic elements. 

Marc Michaels provided insights into his research on various textual witnesses of the scribal manual Sefer Tagin, which is so important for both scribes and researchers dealing with the phenomenon of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot. In his lecture, he was able to identify lines of tradition that differ from one another in terms of content but also in the structural arrangement of the material.

Following these two presentations, the legitimate question arose as to whether and how tagin differ from ziyyunin. This question, in turn, led to the justified demand for a glossary, which will now be prepared in collaboration with the participants of the workshop.

Mordechai Weintraub added another perspective on the Sefer Tagin and posed the intriguing question of the extent to which the determination of the position and form of the tagin and otiyyot meshunnot was guided by exegetical considerations. This question was a recurring theme throughout the workshop, in fact, and was answered by the speakers in different ways.

Jen Taylor Friedman illustrated how helpful a quantitative analysis of mediaeval sources can be. The comparative analysis of the manuscripts she examined and annotated made clear that scribes in Ashkenaz in particular tended to modify the letters in creative ways. In so doing, they not only deviated markedly from the standards of the scribal manual Sefer Tagin, but also did not seem to be particular about following a “correct” or standardised way of writing the Torah. According to her, these strikingly strong deviations could be due to specific exegetical approaches to interpreting the tagin.

Mauro Perani brought the first of three wonderful workshop days to a close with his lecture, in which he offered a comprehensive overview of the history of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot both as a palaeographical phenomenon in Torah scrolls and as a subject of exegetical consideration. Using the famous Bologna scroll, whose “rediscovery” and research are to his credit, as an example, he illustrated the extent to which mediaeval scrolls differ from the later canonised system, according to which only the seven letters ShaʿAṬNeZ GeṢ ought to be decorated with tagin. At the same time, only eighty per cent of the tagin in the Bologna scroll correspond to the instructions of the Sefer Tagin, prompting one to ask how principle (or none at all) was followed when adding the remaining twenty per cent.

Day Two

Sholom Eisenstat shared with us his love and curiosity about the so-called inverted nun in Numbers 10:35-36 and introduced us to the evolution of this scribal phenomenon. In addition to Greek editorial or diacritical signs as possible precursors or parallel phenomena, he also considered the extensive accompanying discussion about the design and position of this palaeographic anomaly in rabbinic literature.

The Biblioteca Palatina in Parma holds a manuscript containing a relatively short text entitled Kitrei Otiyyot Tefillin, which is attributed to Rabbi Yehuda he-Hasid. In her lecture, Emese Kozma traced the history of this text, introduced its content and emphasised its halakhic character. Through philological analysis of this and other texts, she not only established references to other writings from the circle of the Haside Ashkenaz, but also contextualised it within this Jewish literary tradition.

While Emese Kozma considered the text she analysed not to be a mystical treatise on the tagin, Dana Eichhorst showed in her lecture on the Sefer Tagin that is attributed to Eleazar of Worms that the tagin in this mediaeval work are certainly interpreted in a speculative kabbalistic way. Through a comparative textual analysis, for which she inter alia used Eleazar’s main speculative work, Sode Razayya, she was able to demonstrate that a provenance in the circle of the Haside Ashkenaz is probable and that Eleazar’s interpretation of the tagin must also be read against the background of his understanding of the decisive role of the Hebrew letters as divine means of creation.

Gabriel Slamovits focussed on orthographic anomalies using the example of the majuscule letter Bet and the minuscule letter He, as they are displayed in Torah scrolls at the respective beginning of both of the biblical creation accounts. He interpreted this palaeographic phenomenon based on contemporary readings of the two biblical accounts of creation, offering an original modern exegesis of these letterforms.

By providing and describing a variety of different mediaeval source texts, Yosef Ginsberg pointed out an existing gap in research: The interpretation and reflection of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot in kabbalistic texts. Thereby, he also showed to what extent the manual Sefer Tagin reverberates in the kabbalistic sources he presented.

Anne May Dallendörfer presented her research on the important late mediaeval scribal handbook Barukh she-amar. In addition to the complicated history of the text, she showed what insights we can gain from the text about the problems scribes faced and about the solutions they found.

Day Three

As curator at the Museum of the Bible, Jesse Abelman provided a special insight into a mediaeval Torah scroll of the museum’s collection. The changes and corrections made in the scroll affecting tagin and otiyyot meshunnot allow us to reconstruct the scroll’s unique textual history. The corrections found in this scroll, however, also reflect prevailing norms of scribes in dealing with tagin and otiyyot meshunnot.

Because the use of decorative elements and special letters in Torah scrolls is ultimately subject to constant change, Abraham Marmorstein explained how the halakhic authorities dealt with letter forms and how the legal regulations were justified in each case.

The lectures by Jonathan Homrighausen and Dagmara Budzioch were dedicated to the tagin and otiyyot meshunnot in Esther scrolls. Jonathan presented the special case of the emphasised and enlarged Waw in the name Vaizatha and how this palaeographical peculiarity in the Book of Esther was discussed by rabbinical scholars in various ways.

Based on hundreds of examined manuscripts, Dagmara demonstrated that tagin and otiyyot meshunnot play, indeed, an important role in Esther scrolls as well. Thus, alongside Torah scrolls, they constitute an object of research in their own right within the study of the history of writing sacred texts.

The Book of Esther was also the starting point for Emmanuel Bloch’s lecture. Unlike Jonathan’s lecture, the focus here was not on the enlarged letters, but on the small letters in chapter 9 and how their numerical value of 707 is interpreted in some orthodox Jewish circles under consideration of the biblical account as prophetic code of sorts, connecting the story of Esther’s triumph to the Nuremberg trials in the Jewish year 5707.

Deborah B. Thompson’s lecture, which was the final one in our three-day online workshop, focussed on another important textual source for the study of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot, namely tefillin. In her presentation, Deborah looked specifically at those tefillin scrolls that were offered for sale on online marketplaces and traded on these platforms as objects of early modern Hasidism. A special feature of these offered tefillin scrolls is the presence of otiyyot meshunnot. Deborah argued that the question of whether the early modern Hasidic tradition preserved a particular scribal practice needs to be further explored.

Our workshop provided a venue and forum for the first international gathering of a scholarly community explicitly concerned with the subject of tagin and otiyyot meshunnot and Jewish writing practice. The many different presentations on a wide range of aspects relating to the palaeographical as well as the religious, cultural, and intellectual-historical dimensions of tagin, otiyyot meshunnot, and the writing practice of Jewish sacred texts provided many insights into ancient, mediaeval, and modern scribal traditions. At the same time, it became clear that many research questions on these complex topics are yet to be explored and resolved. We intend to publish an anthology based on the further research of our presenters. This collection of essays will be the first comprehensive and interdisciplinary publication on the subject (year of expected publication 2025), bridging at least some research gaps, clarifying open questions, and posing new ones.

The Jewish scribe: a guardian of secret knowledge

Anne May Dallendörfer

Scribes can generally be considered artists and craftsmen. In contexts like the Jewish one, they are first and foremost preservers of holy texts and keepers of tradition. They are thus assigned a social role of great importance and their work is subject to strict rules with regards to form and ritual purity. At times, while preserving a fixed text and the tradition which depends on it, the scribe simultaneously gains access to a knowledge that is otherwise hidden from the other community members. He thus acts as a keeper of the community’s tradition at large but also as a guardian of a secret knowledge kept and preserved by only a few.

We find one such portrayal of the scribe in the 13th century Jewish scribal manual “Barukh she-amar” which has been attributed to the scribe R. Samson ben Eliezer.[1] In this manual, R. Samson sets out to rectify many of his fellow scribes’ mistakes and negligence concerning the writing of STaM (Sefer tora, Tefillin and Mezuzot). He thereby deals extensively with the manufacture of kosher parchment and the rules for writing. One aspect of these rules is the correct form of the Hebrew letters. It is here that the author discloses that he is in possession of some hidden knowledge, as he reveals the metaphysical meaning behind the letter shapes. Concerning this latter part, however, he seems hesitant to reveal too much as these are the secret aspects of his scribal knowledge. He even calls himself a “gossip” fearing he might disclose too much. Here is an excerpt from his writing:

And here I am, “A gossip goes about telling secrets” (Proverbs 11:13) with a little allusion for those who understand in accordance with my limited understanding. Although in my sins I am not worthy to allude to these great secrets which even hinting at [the fact] that I have a little knowledge [of them] is forbidden to me.

Perhaps the prohibition to share these “great secrets” hidden in the letter shapes is just a rhetorical device to give more weight and a sense of importance to his ensuing words. Nonetheless, throughout Rabbi Samson’s writing, one senses an underlying fear that this knowledge might fall into the wrong hands, much of which “was not given to be written.”

Though he finds himself unworthy to share these great secrets, he nonetheless does so, albeit in a quite enigmatic way:

For the dalet points out that the ‘ayin is kneset Israel and the oral Tora, the bride mentioned in Song of Songs, and she is Bakol the daughter of Abraham our father, and she is the kingdom of the house of David, and this dalet which is in eḥad is a thick one. And the vav which is on top of [the dalet] hints that the tav is the six ends [of the world] and a looking glass, it is the bundle of life, the tree of life, and the written Tora, and the two tagin which are on the vav hint at Bina and Ḥokhma the supreme, preceding and splendid, until Ein Sof.

Whatever these symbols hidden in the shape of the letters dalet and vav might mean, R. Samson ends with the comment:

And our rabbis, blessed be their memory, and the learned will understand. And the Lord, may He be blessed, revealed to me wonders from His Tora because of His great name.

It seems clear that Rabbi Samson believed that in his profession as a scribe he had witnessed “wonders” from the Tora through which he had received knowledge of the great secrets of God. In their form and shape, the Hebrew letters allude to symbols whose meaning is not self-explanatory at first sight. It is down to the scribe to learn, preserve and pass on this knowledge – to those who understand. Besides continuing the textual tradition, in learning the correct shape of the Hebrew letters the scribe acts as a preserver of a secret knowledge about God which is otherwise hidden from the uninitiated.

[1] It has been subject to debate whether R. Samson really was the author or whether certain excerpts can be attributed to others. The themes explored in the passage mentioned here have also been connected with his student Yom Tov Lipmann.

Writing the Names of God from the Perspective of the Haside Ashkenaz

Annett Martini

The authors of Sefer Hasidim turned with particular diligence to what is probably the most delicate subject of scribal literature, namely, the writing of the names of God in Torah scrolls. Paramount in the Hasidic context is the high quality of the writing materials, i.e., of the inks as they concern the names of God, and also the duty of the scribes to avoid disturbing in any way with their writing habits the notion of the absolute perfection of the name. God’s name must not exhibit any holes in its immediate surroundings or even be perforated itself. In the unfortunate case of a necessary correction, “approach not where the name is, so as not to pierce the name [with the needle], but there, where the parchment is unwritten.” A particular meticulousness in the script also affects to a certain degree the words before and after the names of God:

„A sofer who has written the name of God but without rendering it readable, should again go over it with the qulmus so that the letters of the word become readable. However, if he has already begun to write the name of God and not yet completed [it], he must not suspend [work on] the letters of the name in order to mend another word.“

(SH Ms Parma 3280 H, §715)

Yet it is not only the material, but also the flow of the writing act itself that does not tolerate absences or interruptions. The Sefer Hasidim takes up the image of the scribe known from ancient scribal literature, where a king is patiently waiting to be greeted by the sofer who is himself in this moment recording the name of the heavenly king on the scroll. In such a precarious moment, the scribe must not look up when one less than him enters the writing space and addresses him.

If he is not permitted to respond to the needs of others, how much more important is it then that the scribe also represses his own needs such as the urge to spit.

„When a sofer is writing the name of God, he may not spit as long as he is not finished, but only when he has written everything.“

(SH Ms Parma 3280 H, §719)

Ultimately, the Sefer Hasidim provides the scribe with solutions in the event that a name has been inadvertently misspelled.

One exceptionally interesting writing instruction, which clearly goes beyond the scope of the rabbinic guidelines, is found in the following paragraph:

„It is written [Ex 39,30]: [And they made the plate of the holy crown of pure gold,] and wrote upon it a writing, like to the engravings of a signet, HOLINESS TO THE LORD [יהוה]. [The employed plural] and they wrote teaches that the name should be written in the presence of a greater number of people meaning ten persons. Scripture says [Lev. 22,32]: [Neither shall ye profane my holy name;] but I will be hallowed among the children of Israel: [I am the LORD who hallows you.] Thus, the rishonim, when a Sefer Torah was written, wanted the names to be written by ten righteous. There are some who say: ‘It is necessary to write [the name of God] in the presence of a quorum as a reminder that it was written for the sake of [the divine name]. For if it was not written for the sake of [the name] [the scroll] should be stored in a genizah. This holds true for every single letter.“

(SH Ms Parma 3280 H, §1762)

This passage is remarkable because its author calls for bearing witness to the ritual sanctification of God’s name in the writing of a Sefer Torah. A group of ten “righteous people” should gather in the writing space for the transcription of each name, by which the tetragram JHWH alone is probably meant, to ensure the consecration of the name. The “ten righteous” awaken associations with the story of Sodom, which could have been saved by the presence of only ten righteous souls. It is said of the righteous (zaddiq), of whom there are but few in each generation, that they maintain an impeccable way of life and an intimate relationship with God. Their presence when God’s name is written not only guarantees the holiness of this moment, in which God represented by His name enters the world, but it also refers to the grace of God, who ensures through these righteous the continued existence of the world. 

We do not know to what extent this procedure was actually put into practice. In the course of our project work, however, a growing number of medieval artifacts from the Ashkenazic region has been encountered that attest to a particular performative effort in writing the names of God. Thus, one finds not only special markings of the tetragram, but also names of God obviously added later to the Torah scrolls, standing out from the rest of the text by a different ink color or by letter size and shape.

Furthermore, studies of some surviving artifacts give reason to believe that the Hasidim also maintained their own tradition of placing tagin and otiyyot meshunnot as described in the relevant treatises on the subject within Hasidic circles. These „suspected cases“ will be further investigated in the coming months and – hopefully – be presented and described in a detailed publication soon.

The Magic of Creation and the Limits of Sorcery

Dana Eichhorst

Anyone familiar with the biblical account of creation is quite likely also familiar with the first sentence of the Torah, which states: In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth, or in Hebrew: בראשית ברא אלהים את השמים ואת הארץ. In a Torah scroll, which according to Jewish tradition is made by the hand of a scribe, one can see small decorations on some letters throughout the whole biblical text. Already in the first line of the Holy Scripture, we find these where they appear as fine strokes rising upward from the letters. In many, though not all, scrolls, the word Elohim (one of God’s names) likewise features such ‘little crowns,’ usually called tagin,[1] in this meaningful line.

One may now wonder as to why in many cases the third letter in God’s name Elohim, namely, the letter he, is adorned here with three such tagin. One possible answer is offered by a passage in a text called Sefer Tagin (also: Sefer Tagi) attributed to Rabbi Eleazar ben Yehuda of Worms (c. 1165-c.1238).

Rabbi Eleazar, one of the sages from the medieval circle of the so-called Haside Ashkenaz, is credited with authoring diverse writings that include biblical exegesis, ethical-moral and speculative-theosophical works. He also authored an extensive commentary on one of the most influential non-biblical writings of the Jewish tradition, the Sefer Yesira (Book of Creation). This commentary contains a ritual instruction that has become famous, describing the artificial creation of a being – a golem – out of water and soil. Decisive elements in the golem’s creation are the Hebrew letters and their proper combination. 

Likewise, in the Sefer Tagin attributed to Eleazar, the Hebrew letters play an essential role as elements of divine creation. And the three tagin on the letter he are a reference to this divine work. It is stated three times in the Hebrew Bible that God alone, and none beside Him, is creator of the world. He alone stretches out the heavens (Job 9:8); Stretching out the heavens by Myself, spreading out the earth (Isa 44:24); You alone are the LORD. You made the heavens (Neh 9:6). And three times the Hebrew Bible speaks of God working miracles: To him who alone does great wonders (Psa 136:4); For you are great, and do wondrous things. You are God alone (Psa 86:10); Blessed is the LORD God (…) who alone does wondrous things (Psa 72:18). And why is this said threefold? Because it is written: At the mouth of three witnesses, shall a matter be established (Deu 19:15).

For three things were created first: the heavens, the earth, and the waters. And God alone created these without help and without anything else – prior to the angels and prior to anything that God will call into existence. For this reason, the exegesis says, there are three tagin on the he in Elohim. Thus, the three little ‘branches’ (sansanim) on the he are a reference both to the heavens, the earth, and the water as well as to the one Most High, His creation, and His miracles.

At this point, the author refers explicitly to sorcery and magic, for it is by these that miracles resembling acts of creation seem to be able to be performed. However, such miracles can neither supersede nor equal the work of God, nor can they measure up to the acts of Moses and Aaron. Moreover, God can, if He so desires, cancel such sorcery and even that of the prophets of other gods[2] since He alone is the creator. From the very beginning, sorcery and incantations belong to the divine plan of creation to let it be known, in turn, that no deeds, not even those that deceive the eyes, are like His. At the same time, sorcery is a part of a divine trial determined by divine law because it says: For your God יהוה is testing you (Deu 13:4). However, for anyone who renders a rightful decision in truth and not in deception, it is as if he were a partner with the Holy One in the act of creation. With this reference to Mekhilta de Rabbi Yishmael (18:13), the author concludes that God made the tagin as well as all of those who acknowledge and appreciate His creation His partners. Against the background of the discourse on imitatio dei, this is reminiscent of bSanh 65b: Rava says: If the righteous wish, they can create a world, as it is stated: ‘But your iniquities have separated…’

With the Torah, God created the world, and the tagin adorn His crown, for it says: His head is finest gold, His locks are curled. And black as a raven (Son 5:11). The numerical value of ‘his locks’ (קווצותיו) corresponds to that of ‘this Torah’ (זו תורה), namely 624. By means of three small strokes, with which the third letter of God’s name Elohim is crowned in the first sentence of the Torah, the author demonstrates that creation is an inimitable divine miracle, one in which the letters and tagin play a special role.

[1]            Other terms are also used to refer to the crowns, e.g., ziunin (זיונין) or sansanim (סנסנים).

[2]            The author, probably Eleazar, refers here explicitly to the prophets of Baal and to those of Ashera.

A competition among letters

Which will be the first one in the Torah (and how does this relate to a Torah scroll)?

Rebecca Ullrich

Anyone skimming through Midrash Bereshit Rabba comes across a very striking passage. In the name of Rabbi Yonah, quoting Rabbi Levi, a question is raised: Why was the world created with the letter „Beit,“ the second letter of the alphabet? Initially, it is stated that one should not explore what was before the creation of the world because the letter ב is closed off on its right side and open on its left; it is closed to the past, but open to the future.

This is followed by an interpretation by Rabbi Yehudah ben Pazzi in the name of Bar Kappara. He answers this question by explaining that the letter ב, with its numerical value 2, indicates that God created two worlds, this world and the world to come. After further interpretations in the name of various rabbis, the interpretation of Rabbi Elazar bar Chanina in the name of Rav Acha follows – and proves particularly interesting:

„For 26 generations, the letter Aleph protested before the throne of God and criticised the Lord of the world: „I am the first of the letters, and you did not create your world with me!“ The Holy One, blessed be He, said to the letter, „The world and its filling were created only because of the merit of Torah, for it says: (Prov 3:19) „Adonai set the earth with wisdom“. Tomorrow I will give the Torah at Sinai and will open the beginning only with you, for it is said: (Exo 20:2) „I (אנכי) am Adonai your God“. „

Genesis Rabba 1,10

God, who presents here a midrash of his own in the style of the rabbis, lets the letter Aleph wait until the next day when he will give Israel the Torah at Sinai, which will begin with an Aleph. According to God, he did not create the world because of a letter, but solely because of the merit of the Torah and to have his teachings obeyed.

This small passage is only one of several instances in rabbinic literature in which letters appear as actors. Genesis Rabbah 47:1, for instance, offers an interpretation in which the letter Yud, the smallest of all Hebrew letters, complains about having been removed from the name of Sarah (Sarah’s name was initially Sarai (Gen 17:15). God calms this letter down too, explaining that he had taken it from the end of a woman’s name and would now put it at the beginning of a man’s name: „And Moses called Hosea bin Nun Yehoshua“ (Num 13:16).

Around the 10th-11th century, more so-called „Smaller Midrashim“ appear that adopt the motif of personifying letters that give life to them. Apart from the beginning of the midrash „Asseret haDibrot“ („Midrash on the Ten Commandments“), the alphabet midrash, attributed to Rabbi Aqiva, is probably the best-known text in which letters appear personified: with voices, emotions and feelings. In this text, which has come down to us in various versions, the letters appear in reverse order before God, from the last to the first letter in the alphabet, one after the other. They ask Him to create the world with them, with interpretations of their forms and decorations.

Rabbinic literature includes several other short texts about more specific phenomena, such as letters to be written in larger or smaller font sizes, as well as letters that receive tagin („crowns“) or a certain dot. These special shapes and decorations are often found in Torah scrolls. Some of them also feature in Masoretic traditions. If so, they are discussed without justification as to why these letters have special features. Later scribal literature, such as Meiri’s Qeriyat Sefer, include lists of letters that need to be written in a larger font size.

The „Smaller Midrashim“ take this a step further and justify these phenomena, discussing, for example, the enlarged spelling of the letter „Beit“ (ב) of בראשית (Gen 1:1) in Torah scrolls. The reason given for the larger spelling of the letter is „that it precedes everything in the Scriptures.“ In the Shema Israel (Dt 6:4-9), too, there are two letters to be written larger in the first verse: The letter ע in שמע („hear“) and the letter ד in אחד („one“). The larger dalet in „Echad“ is needed, so the explanation, to prevent confusion between the letters “Dalet” (ד) and „Resh“ (ר), which look fairly similar, and mistakenly reading „another“ (אחר) instead of “one”. The enlarged letters are reminders for the correct pronunciation of the word at hand. Thus, in these rabbinic texts, letters become carriers of a message: They are assigned attributes in addition to their function of representing a sound. This way, they can also function as memory aids for motifs and events that should be remembered at this point in the text.