In an Ashkenazic Bible produced in the thirteenth century, we find a unique micrography decoration portraying Ezekiel's vision. On the bottom margin the Masorah micrography shows the full bodies of the four creatures: the lion facing the ox, and the man, in full armor and holding an object in each hand, facing the eagle. I suggest that the choice to portray the human figure in this micrography as an armored knight can be explained by reference to the tradition describing seeing Jacob's image engraved on the throne in Ezekiel's vision, as also reflected in the writings of Hasidei Ashkenaz. The decoration identifies the human figure as Jacob, which may illustrate the verse 'Avir Ya‘akov, meaning “mighty one of Jacob” or Jacob the Knight.

This article examines the dynamics between the halakhic and aggadic components of a sugya in the Babylonian Talmud, in which the halakhic discussion of the Yom Kippur afflictions listed in M. Yoma 8:1 is followed by a seemingly unrelated aggadic passage that focuses primarily on the manna in the wilderness. A close reading of the aggadic passage reveals that it in fact contains substantive links to the preceding halakhic discussion. Moreover, when the aggadic passage is read in the context of the preceding halakhic discussion, it provides an alternative understanding of the Yom Kippur afflictions that challenges the understanding that arises from the halakhic discussion. Nevertheless, a close look at the redaction of the sugya shows that the alternative understanding that arises from the aggadic part remains on either the conceptual plane or the supererogatory one, and does not cross over to the normative plane.

In the spring of 1881, Jewish communities within the Pale of Settlement in Russia and Romania witnessed the creation of the Jewish nationalist groups, regional associations, and other core organizations that would subsequently evolve into the movement that came to be known as Ḥovevei Ẓion (lovers of Zion), or Ḥibbat Ẓion.

Although anti-Semitism played an important role in stimulating the emergence of Ḥibbat Ẓion, the movement's establishment must be understood as having been shaped by two concurrent processes. One was the conclusion of Jewish emancipation in central and western Europe, which brought central figures in the national movement, such as Leon Pinsker, to the decisive conclusion that the Jews could only be truly emancipated in an independent Jewish state. The second stemmed from the poor socioeconomic conditions faced by Jews of the time, particularly in eastern Europe. The demographic growth experienced by the Jews of eastern Europe, which reached a high point during the last few decades of the nineteenth century, required a dramatic socioeconomic solution that was nowhere to be found. Proponents of the Jewish nationalist movement argued that the establishment of a Jewish state would also help relieve the Jews' social and economic plight.

The Palestinian and Babylonian Talmuds preserve fascinating stories about the origins of Roman festivals, through which they attempt to connect Roman history with Jewish history. This paper offers contextual readings of these narratives (Y. Avodah Zarah 1:2 [39c] and B. Avodah Zarah 8b) in light of Greek and Roman texts, epigraphical material, and numismatics, and places these rabbinic narratives within broader debates about cultural memory, Jewish historiography, calendars, and time. In one story, the idolatrous sins committed by a series of Israelite kings are blamed for the geological, mythical, and historical origins of the city of Rome, and a series of Roman imperial motifs and figures (the Tiber River, Remus and Romulus, Numa) are inverted. In another, the Romans are said to draw on the power of the Torah in order to defeat their Greek rivals. The rabbinic stories of Roman festivals and their Jewish origins can be understood as examples of what James C. Scott has called “a hidden transcript”—texts that bring to light an alternative perspective, that of the rabbis, within a Roman imperial context that they often interpreted as hostile or threatening.

This article addresses the philosophical sources of Soloveitchik's unique account of time and repentance as presented particularly in the second part of Halakhic Man. In the past, thinkers such as Max Scheler, Hermann Cohen, and Henri Bergson have been suggested as sources of influence on Soloveitchik on this account. While the influence of these thinkers is undeniable, a fuller appreciation of the philosophical layers at play is still required. This article aims to show that the event of repentance in Soloveitchik's description is formulated in accordance with Kierkegaard's notion of Øieblikket (the moment), and to discuss the place of Heidegger in Soloveitchik's interpretation of repentance.

This essay explores the rhetoric and performance of grief by examining two related bodies of texts composed in Jewish Palestinian Aramaic: eulogies for deceased individuals (hespedim) and communal laments (kinot) for Jerusalem; also included are two “narrative laments” from the same corpus that construct the voices of grieving biblical characters. In the analysis, the dynamics among the living participants in the mourning rituals are investigated, as well as the ways rituals of individual grief and rituals of communal mourning shape each other. Throughout the analysis, specific rhetorical techniques associated with mourning in both the Jewish world and in classical Greco-Roman sources and early Christian materials merit particular scrutiny, as do the experiential components of rhetorical techniques such as refrains, antiphony, anadiplosis, and dialogue. Along the way, contextual features important for understanding the function and efficacy of these works are addressed: social setting, liturgical station, affinity for biblical texts, and the status of the mourned party.

At the height of the 1525 Peasants' Rebellion, Josel of Rosheim negotiated directly with the peasants. Although he described this interaction in his writings, he omitted the content of their conversation. Previous scholars have examined the contemporaneous negotiation between the Christian authorities in Strasbourg and the peasants as a parallel to Josel's negotiation. Their interpretations of what transpired between Josel and the peasants, heavily shaped by modern Jewish-Christian relations, are wanting. This article uses histoire croisée to reassess the negotiation. By considering the personal relationships between Josel and Strasbourg's political and religious leaders alongside Josel's writings, it argues that the Jewish and Christian negotiators coordinated their efforts. This case study models a method through which scholars can begin to move beyond recognizing parallels and toward analyzing the transmission of information and ideas between Jews and Chrisitians.