Daf Ditty Megillah 8: Lost in Translation

Samuel Hirszenberg, “Juden beim Talmudstudium, Paris”1

“What must be translated of that which is translatable can only be the

untranslatable”

Jacques Derrida

1
Samuel Hirszenberg (also Schmul Hirschenberg) (Łódź, February 22, 1865 – September 15, 1908, Jerusalem) was a Polish-
Jewish realist and later symbolist painter active in the late 19th and early 20th century.

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 2

MISHNA: The difference between Torah scrolls, and phylacteries and mezuzot, in terms of
the manner in which they are written, is only that Torah scrolls are written in any language,
whereas phylacteries and mezuzot are written only in Ashurit, i.e., in Hebrew and using the
Hebrew script.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says: Even with regard to Torah scrolls, the Sages permitted
them to be written only in Greek. Torah scrolls written in any other language do not have the
sanctity of a Torah scroll.

2
https://www.academia.edu/589470/Jacques_Derrida_and_the_Paradox_of_Translation_You_must_go_on_I_can_t_go_on_I_wil
l_go_on_

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GEMARA: The Gemara infers that with regard to the matter of stitching the sheets of
parchment with sinews, and with regard to rendering the hands of one who touches them
impure, both this, Torah scrolls, and that, phylacteries and mezuzot, are equal. The Sages issued
a decree rendering the hands of one who touches sacred scrolls impure with second-degree ritual
impurity.

The mishna stated: Torah scrolls are written in any language. And the Gemara raises a
contradiction from a baraita: A Torah scroll containing a Hebrew verse in the Bible that one
wrote in Aramaic translation, or a verse written in Aramaic translation that one wrote in the
Hebrew of the Bible, or that was written in the ancient Hebrew script and not in Ashurit, renders
the hands impure only if one writes it in Ashurit script, on a parchment scroll, and in ink.
Apparently, contrary to the mishna, a scroll written in a language other than Hebrew is not sacred.

The Gemara asks: If the baraita is according to Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, in addition to
Ashurit, isn’t there Greek in which the Torah may also be written? Rather, say this is not
difficult. Here, the mishna is referring to Torah scrolls, which may be written in any language;
there, the baraita is referring to phylacteries and mezuzot, which may be written only in Hebrew,
using Hebrew script.

The Gemara asks: How did our Rabbis permit this? Isn’t it written with regard to phylacteries
and mezuzot:

\‫ ֲאֶשׁר ָא ֹנִכי ְמַצ ְוּ‬,‫ו ְוָהיוּ ַהְדָּב ִרים ָהֵאֶלּה‬ 6 And these words, which I command thee this day, shall
.\‫ְלָבֶב‬-‫ַﬠל‬--‫ַהיּוֹם‬ be upon thy heart;
Deut 6:6

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 “And these words shall be” indicating that their language may not be changed. Rather, say that
this is what the baraita is saying: Torah scrolls are written in any language; and our Rabbis
permitted writing them in Greek as well.

Once again the Gemara asks: Our Rabbis permitted? By inference, apparently the first tanna
prohibits writing a Torah scroll in Greek. However, he explicitly permits writing a Torah scroll
in any language.

Rather, say in explanation of the baraita: And our Rabbis permitted them to be written only
in Greek. And it is taught in another baraita that Rabbi Yehuda said: Even when our Rabbis
permitted Greek, they permitted it only in a Torah scroll, and not for other books of the Bible,
which must be written only in Hebrew.

Summary

There is no difference between scrolls [of the Tanakh] and tefillin and mezuzahs except that
scrolls may be written in any language whereas tefillin and mezuzahs may be written only in
Assyrian.3

Scrolls of the Tanakh may be written in any language and in any type of writing. However,
mezuzot and tefillin may be written only in Assyrian, the alphabet in which Hebrew was and is
still written and they may be written only in Hebrew.

3
https://www.sefaria.org/Megillah.8b.19?lang=bi&p2=Mishnah_Megillah.1.8&lang2=bi&w2=English%20Explanation%20of%2
0Mishnah&lang3=en

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Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel says that scrolls [of the Tanakh] were permitted [by the sages]
to be written only in Greek.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamaliel says that while Tanakh scrolls may indeed be written in languages
other than Hebrew, they may not be written in any language, just Greek. At the time of the Mishnah
Greek was the international language of the intelligentsia. It was also the language into which the
Tanakh had already been translated. This translation is called the Septuagint and was widely used
in the period by Jews in the Greek-speaking Diaspora.

Rav Avrohom Adler writes:4

Benefit vs. eating

The Mishna says that the only difference between one who forswore benefit from someone to
someone who forswore eating from him is walking on his property and borrowing utensils that
aren't used for food preparation. The Gemora infers that in both these cases, one would be
prohibited from borrowing utensils used for food.

The Gemora asks: Why in the first case is it prohibited to walk through the person's property, as
property owners generally don't mind this? Rava says that this Mishna is in accordance with Rabbi
Eliezer, who says that even benefit, that people in general do not mind giving, is still prohibited to
someone who forswore benefit.

Sacrifice pledge vs. animal consecration

The Mishna says that the only difference between a neder - general sacrifice pledge to a nedavah
- animal designated as a sacrifice is that one is not responsible to replace the pledged animal if
something happens to it but is responsible for ensuring he fulfills his pledge to bring a sacrifice.
The Gemora infers from here that both cases have the same parameters for the prohibition of
delaying the fulfillment of a pledge.

The Gemora cites a Mishna which compares neder and nedavah. A neder is when one obligates
himself to offer a sacrifice, while a nedavah is when one pledges a specific animal as a sacrifice.
The difference between them is that if a neder is lost or stolen, he is still responsible for offering a
sacrifice, while if a nedavah is lost or stolen, he has no further obligation. The Gemora cites a
braisa with the source for this distinction. Rabbi Shimon says that we learn it from the verse about
an olah which one offers that says vnirtza lo l'chaper alav – and it will be accepted for him to atone
on him, teaching that only responsible for an obligation which is alav – on him is he accepted only
after he offers it. Rabbi Yitzchak bar Avdimi explains that once someone accepts the obligation to
offer a sacrifice, it is as if he took this obligation on him.

Zav of two times vs. three times

4
http://dafnotes.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Megillah_8.pdf

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The Mishna says the only difference between a zav (one who experienced a bodily emission) who
saw a flow twice to one who saw three times is the sacrifice, which is only brought when he sees
three times. The Gemora infers that they are equivalent in making what they sit on severely impure
and in needing 7 clean days to become pure. The Gemora cites a braisa with the source for the
Mishna's distinction. Rabbi Sima'i says that one verse mentions the zav's flow twice and then calls
him impure, while the next one mentions the flow three times and then calls him impure. We
therefore say that they are both impure, but the one with three flows must also offer a sacrifice to
become pure. The Gemora asks: why don't we say that two times causes impurity with no sacrifice,
while three times obligates a sacrifice, without impurity? The Gemora answers that one who saw
three times already saw twice, and therefore is already impure. The Gemora asks: why don't we
say that two times obligates a sacrifice without impurity, while three also makes him impure? The
Gemora answers with a braisa that learns from the verse about the sacrifice which says that the
kohen will atone for him mizovo – from his zav flow - that only some zavim bring a sacrifice, as
the word from implies that only a subset from all zavim offer it. The braisa asks why we don't say
that only one who saw two offers the sacrifice, and answers that one who saw three also saw two,
so he would already be obligated.

The Gemora concludes that we need Rabbi Sima'i's source and the verse mizovo, to make our final
conclusion. If we only had Rabbi Sima'i, we may have thought that both offer a sacrifice, and
impurity only occurs when one sees three times. If we only had mizovo, we wouldn't know what
number of flows would obligate a sacrifice or cause impurity. The Gemora notes that if we learn
something extra from the word mizovo in the verse about the sacrifice, we should also learn
something from the same word used in the verse which refers to when the zav becomes pure
mizovo.

The Gemora therefore cites a braisa which says that the word yit'har – he will become pure teaches
that the flow must fully stop, while the word mizovo teaches that he can become pure from just
his zov flow, even if he is still impure due to tzara'as. The continuation of the verse, v'safar lo –
and he will [then] count seven clean days teaches that even a zav who only saw twice (who is only
mizovo – part from a full 3-time zav) must count 7 clean days. The Gemora asks why we need this
last verse, as we would know this from the fact that such a zav makes his seat severely impure,
and answers that this wouldn't be sufficient, as a woman who must count one clean day (due to
blood flow between menstrual cycles) makes her seat severely impure but need not count 7 clean
days.

Rav Pappa asks: why is it that the first mizovo cited excluded a two flow zav from a sacrifice,
while the second one cited included a two flow zav in the requirement of 7 clean days? Abaye
answers that if the verse wanted to exclude this zav from 7 clean days, it should have said nothing,
as we would have assumed that 7 clean days are not necessary, as we see in the case of the woman
who counts one clean day. If the verse wanted to teach that he need not become pure from tzara'as,
the word zav in the verse about purity is sufficient to teach this. Therefore, the word must be
including such a zav, teaching that any zav must wait 7 clean days.

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Metzora: confined vs. declared

The Mishna says that the only difference between a metzora who is confined to one who is declared
impure is the requirement that the latter must grow his hair long and tear his clothes. The only
difference between a confined metzora or a declared metzora becoming impure is cutting hair and
birds, which are necessary only for the latter. The Gemora infers from the first part of the Mishna
that both types of metzora are impure and are sent outside of the camp. The Gemora cites a braisa
that Rav Shmuel bar Yitzchak taught in front of Rav Huna which provides the source for the first
distinction. The verse about a metzora purified from confinement says that the kohen will purify
the metzora, v'taher - and he is pure, implying that he was always pure in some aspect, i.e., from
growing hair and tearing clothes. Rava challenges this source, as the same phrase v'taher is also
used in the context of a zav, who is not pure in any way. Rather, the present tense of both teaches
that once he becomes pure, even if he later becomes impure again, he doesn't cause impurity
retroactively. Rather, Rava says that the verse which requires growing hair and tearing clothes
refers to the metzora who has the plague bo – in him, i.e., a function of his body, and not a function
of time. Abaye challenges this from the similar verse which says that for the whole time that the
plague is bo – in him, he is impure and must stay outside the and birds says that the kohen will go
out of the camp, and he will see that the tzara'as was healed from him, indicating that it only applies
to one who becomes pure due to being healed, and not due to time passing.

Parchments vs. tefillin and mezuzos

The Mishna says that the only difference between parchments of tanach and tefillin and mezuzos
is that parchments can be written in any language, while tefillin and mezuzos must be written in
ashuri script. Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says that even parchments can only be written in Greek.
The Gemora infers that parchments, tefillin and mezuzos all must be sewn with sinews and make
one's hands impure when handled.

The Gemora challenges the Mishna's statement that parchments can be written in any language
from a braisa which says that Hebrew tanach text written in Aramaic or vice versa or tanach text
written in Ivri script does not make hands impure, as such impurity is only from a parchment
written in Ashuri script with ink. Rava answers that the Mishna is referring to writing in a foreign
language, but with Ashuri script.

No trespassing?

The Gemora asks why the Mishna says that one who forswore benefit from someone may not walk
through his property, since people don't mind such walking, and the Gemora answers that the
Mishna is Rabbi Eliezer who prohibits even benefit that people don't mind giving. Tosfos (8a
drisas) cites a seemingly contradictory Gemora in Baba Basra (57b). There, the Gemora assumes
that people do mind others walking through their field, with the exception of partners, who don't
mind each other walking through their shared area. Rabbenu Tam answers that the Gemora in Baba
Basra is referring to a private courtyard, where people do mind trespassing, while our Mishna is
referring to a valley, where people generally don't mind. Rabbenu Tam explains that the Gemora
assumes the Mishna in Megilla is referring to a valley, since the benefit of walking through

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someone's private courtyard is so significant that it would have monetary value which can be used
for food purchases (like borrowing utensils in a place where people rent them), and therefore
prohibited even if he forswore eating.

VOW OFFERING

The Mishna had stated: There is no difference between vow offerings and freewill offerings except
that regarding vow offerings he is liable for their security (if the animal gets lost or stolen, he will
be required to bring another one), and regarding freewill offerings he is not liable for their security.

If one says, "Behold, an olah sacrifice is upon me (harei alay)," or "Behold, a shelamim is upon
me," this is a vow; but if he says, "Behold, this animal is an olah or a shelamim (harei zu)," this is
a freewill offering. The Gemora cites the source teaching us this halacha. The verse says [Vayikra
1:4]: And it shall be accepted for him, to atone for him. Rabbi Shimon expounds this passuk to
mean that if the vow is upon him, he is liable for the security, but if it is not upon him, he is not
liable. Rabbi Yitzchak bar Avdimi explains: When he said, “upon me,” that is as if he said that he
will be accepting responsibility on the sacrifice.

The Brisker Rav asks: Isn’t this halacha (being liable for the security of the offering when he said
“upon me”) an obvious one? Why is it necessary to cite a passuk explaining this? One who made
a vow obligating himself to offer a korban will not discharge his obligation until he actually offers
the korban. He explains: It is evident from here that one can fulfill his vow of offering a korban
when he designates the animal or when he brings it to the Beis Hamikdosh. The passuk teaches us
that although his vow was fulfilled, he is liable to bring another korban (if it got lost or stolen)
because there is a commitment of security on the account of his vow. This is proven from the
Rambam in Hilchos Maaseh Hakorbanos (16:7), where he writes: One who says, "Behold, an olah
sacrifice is upon me," and he designates a bull and the bull got stolen, he is permitted to bring a
sheep as a replacement, and he has discharged his obligation coming from the vow.

The Brisker Rav asks: Why is this a novelty? In his vow, he never mentioned what type of animal
he would be offering. Why can’t he bring any animal? The answer is that there is a commitment
of security on the sacrifice and perhaps he should be required to replace the initial animal with
another of the same type; The Rambam teaches us that the security is on the korban and not on the
animal. The Chochmas Shlomo (C”M 66:40) holds that the obligation to bring another one is only
if it was through a negligence, however if it was a complete accident, he will not be liable to bring
another one.

The question is asked: What should be the difference how the animal got lost? One who made a
vow to offer a korban, should not discharge his obligation until he actually brings the korban.
Tehila L’Yonah answers according to the Brisker Rav. He has fulfilled his vow by designating the
korban; he has an obligation of security based on the passuk and the Chochmas Shlomo holds that
this liability is only if there was negligence but not by an accident.

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 THE PURIFICATION PROCESS OF A "ZAV"

Rav Mordechai Kornfeld writes:5

The Beraisa derives from the verse, "When the Zav becomes Tahor" (Vayikra 15:13), that "he
counts seven days when he stops seeing the flow." The Beraisa derives from the continuation of
the verse, "[When the Zav becomes Tahor] from his discharge (mi'Zovo)," that a Zav who is also
a Metzora starts counting when his discharge has stopped, and he does not have to wait until he is
Tahor from the other type of Tum'ah ("mi'Zovo v'Lo mi'Neg'o") in order to start counting the days
of Taharah for his Tum'ah of Zav.

What is the point of the Beraisa's first Derashah? The Beraisa says that when the Zav stops seeing
a discharge, he may start counting the seven days. This, however, is obvious. What would one
have assumed without the verse?
(a) RASHI explains that one would have thought that a Zav must immerse in a Mikvah
immediately after his discharge stops before he starts to count. The verse teaches that he does not
have to immerse after the discharge stops before he starts his count, but he may count his days of
Taharah first.

The SHITAH MEKUBETZES in Megilah (the commentary of a Rishon printed by Rav Avraham
Shoshanah, Ofek Institute, 5759/1999) questions Rashi's explanation. Rashi's words imply that if
a Zav wants to immerse before he starts to count, he may immerse at the moment his discharge
stops and he does not have to immerse after he finishes counting his days of Taharah. This
implication clearly contradicts the law; one certainly must immerse after he counts seven clean
days.

(b) Perhaps Rashi means to say something else. Without the verse, one would have thought that a
Zav must immerse twice -- once before he starts to count and once after he counts. The verse
teaches that he needs to immerse only once, after he counts.
This approach, however, is also problematic. On what grounds would one have thought that a Zav
must immerse twice?

(c) The RITVA implies that the two Derashos of the Beraisa are not two separate Derashos but
are one Derashah. The Beraisa means that a Zav may count the seven days as soon as his discharge
stops, and he does not need to wait for the cessation of any other Tum'ah which he might have
(such as the Tum'ah of Tzara'as).

This may also be the intention of Rashi. When Rashi says that the Zav does not need to immerse
before he starts to count, he means that the Zav does not need to immerse for his Tum'as Tzara'as,
but rather he may start to count (the days of Taharah for his Tum'ah of Zav) immediately when his
flow stops, even though he is still Tamei with Tum'as Tzara'as. (The words of Rashi are less
accurate according to this explanation. Rashi says, "... rather, from the time his flow stops he may

5
https://www.dafyomi.co.il/megilah/insites/mg-dt-008.htm

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count." According to this explanation, however, the Zav is permitted to wait until his Tum'ah of
Tzara'as passes before he starts to count, if he so chooses.)

HOW TO BECOME A "METZORA MUCHLAT"

RASHI in the Mishnah defines a "Metzora Muchlat" as the status of a Metzora "after the seven
days of Hesger (isolation) have passed and the Nega shows signs of Tum'ah." At that point the
Metzora becomes a Metzora Muchlat.

Why does Rashi mention that a Metzora becomes Muchlat after the days of Hesger have passed?
The Mishnah in Nega'im (3:3) derives from the verses (see Vayikra 13:3) that if signs of Tum'ah
appear (such as two white hairs or a healthy spot in the center of a Nega), the person immediately
becomes a Metzora Muchlat without first having to undergo the stage of a Metzora Musgar. (Only
with regard to the Siman Tum'ah of spreading, "Pisyon," does a Metzora become a Metzora
Muchlat only after he was first a Metzora Musgar.) Why does Rashi describe a Metzora Muchlat
as one who has already been isolated for a week and then signs of Tum'ah appeared? Becoming a
Metzora Muchlat does not depend on being isolated (Musgar) for a week! (RASHASH)

ANSWER: The PORAS YOSEF answers that Rashi apparently follows his own opinion in his
commentary on the Chumash. Rashi (to Vayikra 13:6) writes that the verse implies that if a Nega
remains unchanged on a person's skin for two weeks' worth of isolation, the person becomes Tamei
even though the Nega has not grown. The person becomes Tahor after two weeks of Hesger only
when the Nega remains the same size (it does not grow) and it becomes lighter in color.

Based on that understanding, Rashi here may mean that there are two ways for a Metzora to
become a Metzora Muchlat. First, he becomes a Metzora Muchlat if the days of Hesger pass and
nothing changes (since Rashi maintains that a Nega which does not change after Hesger is Tamei).
Second, he becomes a Metzora Muchlat right away if the signs of Tum'ah appear at any point, even
before Hesger. (The "Vav" in Rashi here means "or.")

The RAMBAN challenges Rashi from the Gemara here. The Gemara clearly says that the Taharah
of a Metzora Musgar depends on "days" and not on his physical condition ("b'Gufo"). As long as
the days of his isolation have passed without any change in the Nega, he is Tahor. Hence, a Metzora
Musgar becomes Tahor even when nothing on his body changes.

Perhaps Rashi maintains that when the Gemara says that the Taharah of a Metzora Musgar depends
on days and not on his physical state, it means that the Metzora does not need to wait until the
Nega is physically healed. Rather, he becomes Tahor when the Nega's whitish color becomes
slightly whiter, even though the Nega is not actually healed and is still white enough to be
considered a Nega of Tzara'as under other circumstances (i.e. had this been the first time it was
examined). His Taharah depends on the days of his isolation passing and his Nega becoming
slightly whiter, but it does not depend upon being healed (like the Taharah of a Metzora Muchlat,
which depends on the Nega becoming "healed" by the disappearance of the signs of Tum'ah). This
is similar to the Gemara's next description of the Metzora Musgar; the Gemara says that his
Taharah does not depend on "Refu'os," which means that he does not need to wait for a physical
healing process to take place.

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This might explain why Rashi (DH Asher Bo) writes that when the Gemara says that the Metzora
Muchlat's Taharah is "Taluy b'Gufo" it means that he must wait "until it is healed." Rashi means
that his Taharah depends on the Nega having healed so that it is no longer a Nega. In contrast, a
Metzora Musgar's Taharah depends on the Nega having changed (become lighter), even though it
has not healed.

Steinzaltz (OBM) writes:6

The Mishnah (6b) teaches ein bein Adar ha-Rishon la-Adar ha-Sheni, ela keri’at ha-Megillah u-
matanot la-evyonim – “there is no difference between the first Adar and the second, aside from
reading the megillah and distributing presents to the poor.”
This teaching leads to a series of Mishnayot that contrast two similar issues
of halakhah including:

• Shabbat and Yom Tov (cooking is allowed on Yom Tov)

• Shabbat and Yom Kippur (punishment on Shabbat is meted out by the courts)
• Oaths
• Ritual impurity involving seminal emissions
• Different levels of leprosy

The last Mishnah on our daf discusses differences between writing Torah scrolls and
writing Tefillin and Mezuzot, teaching that a Torah scroll can be written in any language,
while Tefillin and Mezuzot can only be written in Ashurit.

In the language of the Sages, ketav Ashuri is the square writing that is used in ritual objects today,
as opposed to ketav Ivri, which is the ancient script used by the Samaritans. We find differences
of opinion with regard to the name Ashuri, whether it is called by that name because the Jews
brought it back to Israel from their exile in Babylon (Ashur), or if it is called by that name because
of its fine, straight writing (yashar).

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel’s opinion quoted in the Mishnah limits foreign writing in Sifrei
Torah to Greek, based on the passage in Sefer Bereshit (9:27) that invites Yefet to dwell in the
tents of Shem. This pasuk is understood to recognize the beauty of Greek, which would be
appropriate to use to enhance Jewish practice. The Gemara rules like Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel,
a position accepted by the Rambam, who argues that the original Greek has become corrupted and
has effectively been lost. Therefore today all of our ritual objects, including Sifrei Torah, are only
written with ketav Ashuri.

6
https://www.ou.org/life/torah/masechet_megillah28/

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Mark Kerzner writes:7

There is no difference in the laws of the first and second months of Adar, except for reading the
Megillah and giving gifts to the poor. For other laws - such as reading the four special Torah
portions reminding of important events - they are equal. From here on, we have a series of "there
is no difference" statements.

There is no difference between the laws of Shabbat and Holidays, except that on Holidays one is
allowed to cook for people's consumption.

There is no difference between Shabbat and Yom Kippur, except that for doing work on Shabbat
one may get punished by the Sanhedrin, and for the same on Yom Kippur - there is only "being
cut off from one's people."

There is no difference between a vow prohibiting one all benefit from the other person and a vow
prohibiting food benefits - because many things lead to food - except for the permission to pass
through his property.

There is no difference between vowing to bring a sacrifice and designating a specific animal,
except that when he vows and then buys an animal, and it is lost or dies, he has to buy another one.

There is no difference between a zav (see here) who had two emissions and one who had three,
but that the latter needs to bring a sacrifice.

A metzora (spiritual leper) may be quarantined and then declared a definite metzora. There is no
difference between the two states, except that the latter also needs to let his hair grow and to tear
his garments as a sign of grief.

If Reuven prohibits Shimon from benefiting from him, the Mishnah rules that Shimon may not
walk across Reuven’s property.8

7
https://talmudilluminated.com/megillah/megillah8.html
8
https://www.dafdigest.org/masechtos/Megilla%20008.pdf

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The Gemara questions why this should be prohibited because people generally do not care if
strangers walk across their property.

Rashbam (Bava Basra 57b) explains that this means that the property is essentially ownerless (‫הפקר‬
(in this regard, and a vow only applies to the personal property of a person, not to something that
is ownerless. Turei Even, however, notes a difficulty with the explanation of Rashbam.

The source of the term ”‫” ויתור‬refers to a situation where a seller wishes to be sure that he is giving
a full amount of a measured commodity to his customers, so he adds an additional “bonus” amount
to their purchase. He is willing to forego this quantity, which is known as ”‫ ויתור‬.” Accordingly,
the concept is not one of making something ownerless, as Rashbam says. ‫ר‬

The RAN Nedarim 33b explains that in our case, Shimon is not considered as if he is benefiting
from Reuven if the item is something which people do not care about (i.e., walking across one’s
yard). If we understand this as a definition in the universal concept of “benefit / ‫“ הנאה‬,we could
say that any such benefit would be allowed even in regard to things that the Torah prohibits (i.e.,
to sit in the shade of a tree of avoda zara).

Yet Turei Even explains that the rule of allowing ‫ויתור‬is only valid in the realm of vows. It is only
here that we follow the intent of the speaker and a person
who articulates a vow of this type does not have in mind to prohibit a benefit which is usually
granted without a fee even to strangers.

Rabbi Akiva Eiger, zt”l, explains that Chachamim allow ‫ ויתור‬in the case of a vow only when the
expression is stated in terms of the person (“Shimon may not benefit from my property.”) The
statement is meant to apply to the person and his benefit. However, if the limitation is stated in
terms of the property (“My property is prohibited to Shimon.”), we cannot allow any benefit, even
that which is in the realm of ‫ ויתור‬.Here, the property is objectively and inherently off-limits, even
according to Chachamim.

But regarding sewing them [Sifrei Torah, tefillin and mezuzahs] … there is no difference
between them.

The Gemara in Menachos (1) rules that if one wrote a mezuzah on two it is invalid.

Rashi (2) explains that the Gemara refers to writing the mezuzah on two columns rather than one.
Tosafos (3) writes, in the name of Rashi, that a mezuzah written on two pieces of parchment
attached to one another is valid. Tosafos (4), on the other hand explains that the Gemara refers to
writing a mezuzah on two pieces of parchment and accordingly maintains that a mezuzah written
on two pieces of parchment is invalid.

It seems as though our Gemara refutes Tosafos’ position. Our Gemara mentions that regarding the
requirement to use sinews for sewing there is no difference between a Sefer Torah, tefillin or

13
mezuzahs. It seems that the only use for sinews for a mezuzah would be to sew two pieces of
parchment together and as such the Gemara would be consistent with Rashi rather than with
Tosafos.

Rav Yair Chaim Bachrach (5), the Chavos Yair, writes that the inclusion of mezuzahs in this
discussion is out of place since there is no valid use for sinews for a mezuzah. Rabbi Akiva Eiger6
answers that the disqualification of using two pieces of parchment for a mezuzah applies only if
one sews together the pieces of parchment after the text was written onto the parchment. If,
however, the pieces of parchment were sewed together before the text was written the mezuzah is
valid.

Accordingly, Tosafos will explain that our Gemara which accepts the use of sinews refers to
sewing pieces of parchment before the text was written, whereas the Gemara in Menachos that,
according to Tosafos, invalidates the use of sewn parchment refers to sewing the pieces of
parchment after the text was written. Ritva (7) suggests another explanation to the Gemara which
would be consistent with both opinions. He writes that when the Gemara mentions the use of sinew
for sewing it refers to repairing parchment with sinew. Using sinew in this situation would be valid
even according to Tosafos.

Our Mishnah writes that the only difference between a ‫ נדר‬and a ‫ נדבה‬is that the former is the
assumption of an obligation to do something in the future, while the latter has the power to
consecrate something immediately.

We find, however, that a ‫ נדבה‬appears to be more desirable to Hashem. The Tiferes Shlomo, zt”l,
explains that this is because a ‫ נדבה‬takes immediate effect, while a ‫ נדר‬is merely the assumption of
an obligation to consecrate something at some future moment. Very often, the motivation of one
who undertakes a ‫ נדר‬is to make a commitment to a mitzvah, as long as it will be performed later.
The contributor of a ‫ נדבה‬does his mitzvah right away, and Hashem prefers the person who displays
zeal!

In the beis midrash of Rav Yitzchak Molcho, zt”l, in Solonika, two masmidim learned. One was a
huge genius with an incredibly penetrating mind, but he was known to be quite attached to his

14
creature comforts and was slow to extend himself for a mitzvah. The second scholar was not
blessed with the first’s acumen by any means, but he was known for his alacrity and joy in
performing mitzvos as soon as the opportunity arose.

Whenever the more accomplished scholar would share his chidushim with Rav Yitzchak, the Rav
would complement him highly. However, when the other scholar would enter the beis midrash,
Rav Molcho would go further and rise as a show of respect. This irritated the first scholar to no
end. Although Rav Yitzchak was not obligated to stand for either of them because his scholarship
surpassed them both, there was no doubt that the first talmid chacham was far more accomplished
than the second.

One day, the sharper man decided to take this up with the Rav. Rav Molcho explained, “The other
man’s deeds exceed his knowledge, but his zerizus proves that all of his learning is done for the
sake of heaven! This is a person whose study is most worthy of my respect. Your lax attitude
shows that you lack love of Hashem. If you would only internalize your learning, you would feel
a powerful love of Hashem. The natural outgrowth of such love is zeal to do His will!”

Sara Ronis writes:9

Today’s daf takes us in some very strange directions. It all started two days ago. The mishnah
at the bottom of 6b states:

The difference between the first Adar and the second Adar is only the reading of the
megillah and gifts to the poor.

Because Judaism follows a lunar-solar calendar, some years contain a leap month. In this
case, Purim is observed in the second Adar. This statement, that only in the second Adar do
we read megillah and give gifts to the poor, leads the mishnaic rabbis to continue listing other
things that are related but different, and most of that discussion takes place on today’s daf.
The discussion of differences takes us from discussions of various kinds of vows to offerings
to bodily emissions, and from there to discussions of leprosy, before ending up discussing
something slightly more relevant in the post-Temple period:

The difference between scrolls, tefillin and mezuzahs is only that scrolls are written in any
language, whereas tefillin and mezuzahs are written only in Ashurit.

Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says: Even with regard to scrolls, the sages permitted them to
be written only in Greek.

Scrolls, tefillin and mezuzahs are all different sizes and are used in different ways: Torah
scrolls and megillot are usually large and are treated as objects to be carried and read
from; tefillin are small scrolls sealed inside leather boxes and worn on the heads and arms of

9
Myjewishlearning.com

15
many Jews during prayer; mezuzahs are small scrolls inside usually decorative boxes of some
kind, and affixed to the doorpost. This mishnah focuses on one key area of commonality: they
all contain pieces of parchment on which verses from the Torah (or the whole Torah, in the
case of some scrolls) are written. What makes them different, according to the mishnah, is
that tefillin and mezuzot can only be written using the Ashurit script.

What’s that? Weirdly enough, it’s what today you probably think of as “Hebrew script.”
Ancient Israelites wrote their Hebrew using a script that today scholars call paleo-Hebrew.
This script doesn’t look like modern Hebrew; to be honest, it looks a little more like chicken
scratch to me. At some point during or after the Babylonian exile, the exiles begin to write
their Hebrew down using the Aramaic alphabet, otherwise known as Ashurit script. Paleo-
Hebrew didn’t disappear right away, but slowly, its use died out as it was replaced by Ashurit.

Close up of a scroll of Leviticus written in paleo-Hebrew found Qumran caves.

And as the mishnah on today’s daf shows, eventually that replacement was halakhically
required! By the time of the Mishnah, tefillin and mezuzot were only “kosher” if written in
Ashurit. In fact, the medieval commentator Rashi glosses the word Ashurit in today’s mishnah
as lashon hakodesh, the holy tongue. But there was a difference of opinion as it related to
Torah scrolls: the original speaker in the mishnah seems to think that they could be written in
any language (including the original Paleo-Hebrew), while Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel
thinks they can only be written in Greek, the lingua franca of his day!

The Gemara offers two more similarities between these three kinds of texts:

or the matter of stitching with sinews, and rendering the hands impure, this and
that are equal.

The parchments used for Torah scrolls, mezuzot and tefillin must all be stitched together by
sinews, and not a plant-based thread, and they all have the status of sacred. According to some

16
 rabbis at the time, the sacred status of the scrolls leads those who touch them to have hands
considered ritually impure when the Temple stood.

The Gemara is going to continue to discuss questions of language and script on the next page.
But for today, I am reminded of something I heard a lot when traveling across Thailand years
ago: “same same but different.” And that is exactly what the mishnah here is saying.

Rabbi Johnny Solomon writes:10

Our daf (Megillah 8a-b) contains many of the Mishnayot in the first chapter of Massechet Megillah
where each of them begins with the same phrase of ‫‘ – אין בין‬there is no difference between…’,
they contrast two areas of religious practice (eg. vow offerings vrs. gift offerings), or two different
degrees of someone who has had the same physical experience (a zav who experiences two
emissions vrs. a zav who experiences three emissions), or two different degrees of someone of a
specific spiritual category (a confined metzora vrs. a confirmed metzora/someone who becomes
pure from a state of confinement vrs. someone who becomes pure from a state of confirmation),
or items of two different degrees of holiness (Books of the Tanach vrs. Tefillin & Mezuzot), they
then use the word ‫‘ – אלא‬except’, and they then inform us how each differ from the other.

On first glance, each of these Mishnayot are all about drawing distinctions, with each emphasising
how couplets of various practices, experiences, categories and items differ from one another. Yet
the very fact that all these varied areas of Jewish law are addressed and explained through the use
of the same literary device of ‫ אלא‬...‫ אין בין‬is ultimately suggestive of the fact that even two
completely different aspects of Jewish law - such as the laws of offerings and the holiness of holy
texts - rest within the contours of the same spiritual landscape.

Of course, by using the formula ‫ אלא‬...‫אין בין‬, our Sages certainly had a practical intention in mind
in terms of providing learners with a powerful way to help remember these laws by heart. Yet
beyond this, by using this same formula to distinguish between such a broad range of practices,
experiences, categories and items, they also emphasized how similar relationships exist between
couplets of Jewish law drawn from different realms of Jewish law, and that Jewish law is –
ultimately - a family of varied practices and rituals, with each of these Mishnayot telling us more
about the precise relationship between different couplets.

Thus the words ‫ אלא‬...‫ אין בין‬are used both to highlight difference and emphasize similarity - and
thereby help us understand that beyond the specific details standing between (‫ )בין‬specific laws,
they are all part of a broader network, sitting alongside one another - as members of one family -
within the same spiritual landscape called Jewish law.

10
www.rabbijohnnysolomon.com

17
 Art by Esther Rosen

Onkelos and the Issue of Translating the Torah11

This week we begin reading the fifth and final book of the Torah, Devarim, relayed by Moses over
the final 37 days of his life. During this time, Moses “undertook to explain this Torah”
(Deuteronomy 1:5) that he left for his people. Rashi comments here by citing the Midrash that
Moses translated the Torah into all seventy ancient languages. Why did he do this?

HaKtav v’HaKabbalah (Rabbi Yaakov Tzvi Mecklenburg, 1785-1865) held that it does not mean
Moses translated the Torah into seventy languages, “for what use would that serve for Israel?”
Since the Israelites didn’t speak all those languages anyway, what would be the point? Rather, he
explains that Moses explained the Torah according to all of its seventy faces, as it is well-known
that there are shivi’im panim l’Torah. He takes it one step further and says the same is true when
it is said that each sage that sat on the Sanhedrin “knew seventy languages” (Menachot 65a). This
does not mean that every rabbi that ever served on the Sanhedrin had to speak seventy languages

11
https://www.mayimachronim.com/onkelos-and-the-problem-with-translating-the-torah/

18
to qualify! Rather, it means each rabbi had to know the Torah completely, from all “seventy faces”,
so to speak.

The Midrashim that Rashi seems to be citing support this notion. For instance, Midrash
Tanchuma (Devarim 2) highlights how Moses went from saying “I am not a man of words”
(Exodus 4:10) and shying away from public speaking to being able to comfortably expound upon
the Torah on seventy levels. Meanwhile, Beresheet Rabbah 49:2 connects the seventy to
the gematria of the word sod, “secret” (‫)סוד‬, which is seventy. So, what Moses did was relay all
the secrets of the Torah.

Still, others hold that Moses really did translate the Torah into seventy different languages. He
definitely had no need to verbally do so, since the Israelites wouldn’t understand him anyway, but
he did write it down in seventy languages. The Talmud (Sotah 32a) states it was written on giant
stones, serving as steles placed all around the borders of Israel. In ancient times, it was common
for a kingdom to engrave some of its central laws upon massive stones and place them on its
borders so that people who enter the kingdom would be aware of the rules. It looks like Moses did
the same for the Holy Land. Did he need to write down the entire Torah on these steles? Probably
not, because that, too, would be unnecessary (and time-consuming!) The steles most likely
recorded some of the key rules to be followed in the Holy Land.

If Moses translated the Torah, this suggests that translations are a good thing. Yet, our Sages
strongly frowned upon translations of the Torah. They even declared that when the Torah was
translated into Greek, it was a catastrophe on the same level as the Golden Calf (Masekhet
Sofrim 1:7). On the other hand, the Sages also noted the beauty of the Greek language, and even
permitted certain scrolls to be written in Greek! (On this strange dichotomy, and why the Greek
translation was especially despised, see here.)

The issue of translation can probably be summarized by a teaching of Rabbi Yehuda: “One who
translates a verse literally is a liar, and one who adds [to the translation] is a blasphemer.”
(Kiddushin 49a) To translate word-for-word is impossible, since every language has its own
unique grammar, figures of speech, and unique terms. Translating requires some flexibility and
creativity on the part of the translator. Yet, that would mean the translator is not producing a
perfectly-accurate text, so he is likened to a blasphemer who alters the Word of God!

Despite this, the Sages instituted that one should read the parasha shnayim mikre v’echad
targum: twice in the original Hebrew, and once in translation so that the reader understands the
words (Berakhot 8a). In their day, the Jewish vernacular was Aramaic. Thus, the “targum” in
question was Targum Onkelos, the standard Aramaic translation (and commentary) on the Torah.
Ironically, many people who do shnayim mikre today do not actually understand the Aramaic
of Targum Onkelos! So, various authorities allow reading a different commentary or translation.
The Shulkhan Aruch, for example, allows reading Rashi’s commentary as the “targum” (Orach
Chaim 285). The Mishneh Berurah adds that one can really read any accepted translation that they
understand, even if it’s in Yiddish. This is partly based on Tosfot, who comment on the Talmud
above that reading a translation into a language one understands might be okay, though it is still
best to go with Targum Onkelos.

19
Who is Onkelos and why is his translation so great?

Onkelos the Convert

The Midrash (Tanchuma, Mishpatim 5) writes:

Coins minted to mark Hadrian’s visit to Judea (c. 131 CE)

Later, Onkelos returns to Rome and Hadrian finds his countenance has changed. Onkelos explains
that he has converted, circumcised himself, and studies Torah. Hadrian asks why Onkelos would
do such a thing, and Onkelos replies that it came out of Hadrian’s own advice:

“When I told you that I desired to engage in business, you said: ‘Whatever merchandise you find
low, that is worthless, and lying on the ground because it is ignored, do business in it, for it will
finally rise in value.’ I have traveled among the nations and have found nothing so low and so cast
down as Israel, and it is destined to rise…”

The Talmud (Gittin 56b-57a) provides a slightly different account:

20
In this account, Onkelos is the nephew of Titus, not Hadrian. Both of these emperors were huge
enemies of Israel. Titus was the one who destroyed the Second Temple during the Great Revolt.
Hadrian is the one who quelled the Bar Kochva Revolt, which also took the lives of Rabbi
Akiva and his 24,000 students.

Onkelos raises his uncle’s soul from the grave and asks if he should become a Jew. Titus,
seemingly having not learned from his eternal damnation, advises Onkelos to do what he himself
did and persecute Israel. This is because those who persecute Israel are supported by the Sitra
Achra, the domain of evil, and so become dominant powers in the world. Indeed, we find
throughout history that the greatest oppressors of Israel were both incredibly powerful and infused
with tremendous evil, as exemplified most recently by the likes of Hitler and Stalin. Titus told
Onkelos that if he takes that path, he is guaranteed to become a powerful man. Onkelos didn’t buy
it. He also raised the souls of two others (Bilaam and Jesus), ultimately concluding it is worth
becoming a Jew.

The story continues in another page of Talmud (Avodah Zarah 11a). After Onkelos converts, the
Roman emperor sends soldiers to arrest him for his betrayal. Onkelos starts telling them about
Judaism and the soldiers convert! The emperor sends more soldiers and they, too, convert. He
sends a third group and commands them not to speak with Onkelos at all.

21
Onkelos, or Aquila?

The Talmud Yerushalmi (Megillah 10b) calls Onkelos by a variant name:

Here, the Talmud again notes the supremacy of Greek over other (non-Hebrew) languages. It calls
Onkelos by the similar-sounding “Aquilas”, and apparently alludes to his Roman origins, calling
him a “soldier”, or more specifically, a “castle guard”. One opinion seems to hold that the Aramaic
translation came indirectly by way of the Greek one, while another opinion is that Aquilas’
translation was done with the blessing and haskamah of the two greatest sages of the day (and
teachers of Rabbi Akiva).

The Talmud Bavli (Megillah 3a) adds that Onkelos made his translation with a built-in
commentary based on the teachings of Rabbis Eliezer and Yehoshua. This is why it is so special,
for it is not just a simple translation, but carries the basic explanation of the text with it. The Talmud
points out that Ezra had already translated the Torah into Aramaic when he re-established the
Jewish community in Israel following their return from Babylon (Nehemiah 8:8). The Talmud
concludes that this ancient translation of Ezra had been lost, and Onkelos produced a new one. The
Yerushalmi calls him “Aquilas”, and this is his name in Shemot Rabbah 30:12, too. This is most
interesting because we know from historical records of one Aquila of Sinope (or Aquila Ponticus).

Epiphanius of Salamis (c. 320-403) wrote (in his Of Weights and Measures) that Aquila was an
in-law of the Emperor Hadrian. Hadrian sent Aquila to Jerusalem to rebuild the city as Aelia
Capitolina, and erect a new temple dedicated to Jupiter on the site of the former Holy Temple.
(Incidentally, this is probably what sparked the Bar Kochva Revolt.) Epiphanius wrote that Aquila
then discovered Christianity and converted. However, he then realized the flaws of Christianity
and converted to Judaism. (Epiphanius didn’t quite word it this way since he was himself a
Christian bishop!) Jerome (c. 347-420) added that he became a student of Rabbi Akiva. Aquila
went on to produce a Greek translation of the Torah which was widely used by Jews and Christians.
The latter were not especially fond of it, claiming that it downplayed and mistranslated verses that
“supported” Christianity.

22
 Fragment from Aquila’s Translation

Fragments of Aquila’s translation have been discovered in recent times. There is strong evidence
that he really was a student of Rabbi Akiva. For example, he translates the word et (‫ )את‬into Greek
(σύν), even though it is not necessary in Greek at all (just as it isn’t in English). Scholars believe
he put it in there because it was Rabbi Akiva who taught the great importance of et, and that it
always represents something else that the text is trying to teach (as in Kiddushin 57a).

So, are Aquila of Sinope and Onkelos one and the same person?

We find that Onkelos is often mentioned together with Rabban Gamliel II (see, for
example, Tosefta on Mikvaot, ch. 6). Rabban Gamliel was the president of Israel following the
destruction of the Temple. This would make Onkelos more likely to be a nephew of Titus. That
makes it too early for him to be a disciple of Rabbi Akiva. Aquila, on the other hand, is connected
to the emperor Hadrian, who lived at the same time as Rabbi Akiva. Onkelos is famous for an
Aramaic translation, while Aquila is famous for a Greek translation. It could be that these were
two different people that were later confused because of their many similarities. The Yerushalmi’s
suggestion that the Aramaic translation was based on the Greek might stem from this.

23
Or it could be that Onkelos, and Aquila really are one person, and maybe he produced both a Greek
version and an Aramaic one. Perhaps he was a nephew (or, more likely, grand-nephew) of Titus
who also became related to Hadrian by marriage. It is hard to reconcile all the disparate details. At
the same time, it seems highly unlikely that there were two great translators who were converts
from Roman royalty and happened to share essentially the same name.

Whatever the case, Onkelos/Aquila sparked a huge new development in Judaism: producing
written explanations of the Torah. Keep in mind that this was at the start of the 2nd century, long
before the Talmud, and even before the Mishnah, was put into writing. While there were other
translations before, Onkelos was possibly the first to infuse commentary into the text. As such,
Onkelos might be credited with giving rise to a new genre—the Torah commentary. Since then,
countless other commentaries have been written containing a vast sea of wisdom. Each of these
commentaries serves to reveal yet another of the Torah’s seventy faces, and gives us a lifetime of
texts to study and delight in.

Written and Oral Torah

24
 Lawrence H. Schiffman, From Text to Tradition12
One of the basic premises on which the tradition of the tannaim was based was the concept of the
two Torahs, oral and written, which, the rabbis believed, had been given by God to Moses on Sinai.
According to the rabbinic view, the two Torahs were complementary.

The oral Torah provided the interpretations and explanations which made possible the application
of the written Torah as a way of life. Therefore, the two Torahs were of equal status and authority
with one another. Further, the accuracy of the transmission of the teachings of both Torahs was
seen to depend not only on the correctness of the contents, but also upon the mode of transmission.
The tannaim make clear that to be considered authentic, a tradition must be transmitted in the same
way it was given at Sinai. Therefore, the written Torah had to be taught from a scroll, and the oral
law had to be recited orally by a tanna.

The history of the oral law concept is complex. Its earliest attestation is found in Josephus. He
asserts that the Pharisees possessed ancient traditions which they had inherited from past
generations. These traditions, combined with ancient customary law as well as with the emerging
midrashic exegesis, which was developing in the Second Temple period, provided the basic
content of what the rabbis later called the oral law.

At some point between the late first century B.C.E. and the first century C.E., the notion began to
be expressed that the oral law, along with the written, had been given at Sinai. This development
has been explained by some modern scholars as the result of a desire on the part of the Yavnean
rabbinic authorities to solidify their authority by claiming divine origin for their own traditions.
Actually, however, such ideas were developing naturally as the various approaches to Judaism in
the Second Temple period strove to provide the written law with an appropriate supplement to
make it possible for the Torah to serve as a genuine way of life in the Greco-Roman period. In
Pharisaic Rabbinic Judaism, this was accomplished by the oral law.

This idea allowed Pharisaic Judaism, and, later, the rabbinic tradition, to develop organically. It
provided the basis for the assertion of continuity in Talmudic Judaism, an assertion maintained
even in the face of numerous adaptations and adjustments, for in the view of the rabbis there had
been no changes—all later developments had already been commanded as part of the Sinaitic
revelation.

Talmudic tradition has always assumed that the notion that two Torahs were given on Sinai went
all the way back in time. Modern scholars have come to question this assumption. In any case,
firm evidence shows that the concept was fully developed by the aftermath of the revolt. By that
time, appeals to the Sinaitic origin of laws were made, although the notion of a dual Torah and
dual revelation was not nearly as evident as one might expect. Clearly, then, the idea was
developing in Pharisaic times, and the unwritten laws of the fathers were an earlier stage in its
development.

The concept became more important in the period leading up to the destruction. In the difficult
years after the revolt, when the support of the people at large (the ‘am ha-‘ares) was so important,
the rabbis, in order to guarantee the authority of their teachings, occasionally appealed to the

12
Ktav Publishing House, Hoboken, NJ, 1991.

25
divine origin and nature of the oral law. It was only in amoraic times, however, that the
full midrashic basis for these ideas was worked out, with the rabbis asserting that the oral Torah
and its authority were mentioned in the written law.

In this case, though, the transition cannot be understood as the result of external political
influences. It resulted from an organic trend in Judaism which developed in a manner consistent
with the needs of the times. Indeed, this is the manner of most developments and changes in
Judaism, the unique contribution of the Pharisaic heritage.

Rav Moshe Taragin writes:13

The gemara in Gittin (60b) cites a contradiction between two halves of one verse. God tells Moshe:

13
https://etzion.org.il/en/holidays/shavuot/maintaining-boundaries-written-and-oral-law

26
"Transcribe for yourself these matters, for 'al-pi' (lit., by the mouth) of these matters I have

signed with you a covenant and with Israel." (Shemot 34:27)

The first half of the verse suggests a written form of transfer ("Transcribe..."), while the latter half

evokes a verbal manner of teaching and transmitting Torah. How, then, should Torah be conveyed?

Ultimately, the gemara recognizes the fundamental difference between two segments of Torah:

"she-bikhtav" (written) and "she-be'al peh" (oral); this verse teaches us that the original format of

each must be maintained. Hence, the gemara derives two prohibitions:

1. Torah she-bikhtav cannot be rendered in the manner of be'al peh.

2. Torah she-be'al peh must not be written.

These prohibitions establish a blatant division between the two parts of Torah; indeed, for close to

a millennium these distinctions were maintained. Obviously, the landscape was altered irrevocably

once Torah she-be'al peh was written (a decree which will be explored later in this article).

CONVERTING WRITTEN TORAH TO ORAL FORMS

The prohibition against writing the Oral Torah is clearly defined. Talmud, which existed as a

purely oral tradition, could not be written in any formal or organized fashion. The parallel

prohibition relating to "verbalizing" the Written Torah is less clear. How do we define "be'al peh?"

If a person writes Torah she-bikhtav as a text, but deviates from certain classic requirements of

transcribing Torah, would he or she violate the prohibition?

27
Perhaps the clearest expression that even written texts can qualify as "be'al peh" if certain criteria

are not met can be found in the words of Tosafot (Shabbat 115a). The sixteenth chapter of Shabbat

allows works of Scripture (kitvei ha-kodesh) to be saved from a fire on Shabbat even though extra

effort (tircha) is involved. The gemara questions the permissibility of saving from a fire texts

written in different languages. As the gemara itself asserts, this issue would depend upon a famous

dispute in the mishna (Megilla 8b). The mishna discusses Scriptural texts written in various

languages other than Hebrew and cites a dispute between the Rabbis, who classify these texts as

kitvei ha-kodesh, and Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, who excludes foreign-language texts from the

category of kitvei ha-kodesh.

This fundamental argument about the nature of foreign-language Scriptural texts has several

applications. For example, the gemara itself recognizes the consequences regarding "tum'at

yadayim." (See the Rambam, in chapter 9 of Hilkhot Avot Ha-tum'a, who delineates the rabbinical

decree that kitvei ha-kodesh confer impurity to teruma, the priest's portion of produce. This

institution was developed as a manner of assuring that holy texts would be distanced from teruma

and would not be ruined by hungry rodents.) According to the Rabbis, Scripture written in any

language would qualify as kitvei ha-kodesh and cause impurity to teruma; conversely, according

to Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, such texts would not be impure. This debate would assuredly

impact upon our question of saving these texts from a fire. Presumably, Rabban Shimon would not

allow Shabbat to be violated to save a foreign-language text because these texts do not enjoy the

status of kitvei ha-kodesh; the Rabbis, by contrast, would allow it.

Indeed, the gemara does consider the influence of the argument in Megilla upon our issue. What

is startling, however, is the language the gemara employs to describe Rabban Shimon's position:

28
the gemara asserts that Scripture in foreign languages cannot be "read." It is one thing to question

their holiness, as well as laws, such as impurity, which are dependent upon that status, but it is

quite another to claim a prohibition of reading them. Tosafot (ibid., s.v. Lo), in defending this

syntax, cite the position of Rav Porat that it is forbidden to render these texts in foreign languages

because this violates the principle that Torah she-bikhtav cannot be converted into be'al peh. Even

though the Torah is being written physically, since the language is foreign, the standards of Torah

she-bikhtav have not been met, and the prohibition applies.

A second example of "incorrectly" written texts which qualify as "be'al peh" can be discerned

within the gemara Gittin (6b). The gemara invokes the principle of "sirtut" when reproducing

Scriptural verses; i.e., if one includes a verse within a personal letter, the writer must draw a

straight line (normally by carving an indentation in the parchment) directly above the verse. The

concept of sirtut is, again, a familiar one; see the gemara (Menachot 32b) which requires sirtut for

the mezuza and sefer Torah, and the gemara (Sota 17b) requiring sirtut for the sota scroll. Why,

however, should verses written out of the context of these items require sirtut?

Many have invoked our principle to justify this requirement: when rendering Scriptural texts, the

status of Torah she-bikhtav must be preserved not only by creating actual text, but by fulfilling

certain standards. Just as -according to certain opinions - only Hebrew fonts are considered Torah

she-bikhtav, certain types of contextual elements (such as the line above these verses) are

necessary to generate Torah she-bikhtav. The prohibition against writing verses without sirtut

stems from the prohibition to convert Torah she-bikhtav into be'al peh; omitting sirtut is

tantamount to not writing at all.

29
A third example of actual writing which does not qualify technically as "bikhtav" can be found

in Gittin (60a). The gemara forbids reading from, or even composing, a book which contains the

haftarot, the passages from the Prophets selected for each Shabbat morning. Since an entire "sefer,"

i.e., one of the twenty-four volumes of Scripture, was not composed, but rather fragments of

several of them, one cannot read from it. Rabbeinu Crescas explains that such a document is

defined as be'al peh and violates the prohibition against converting bikhtav into be'al peh.

Indeed, the same gemara prohibits writing a "megilla," a few chapters of one of the five books of

the Torah for a child to study from ("ein kotevin megilla le-tinok le-hitlamed"). Though the gemara

does not clarify the exact nature of the prohibition, we might speculate that it emerges from our

concerns of not changing bikhtav into be'al peh. Not only must the proper font be employed, and

not only should the lines surrounding Scriptural text be reproduced, but a certain structural

integrity must be maintained. By producing less than an entire sefer, one might strip the product

of its status as bikhtav.

THE PROHIBITION TODAY

Most opinions suggest that the prohibition of converting Scripture into less-than-bikhtav formats

no longer applies. The gemara (Gittin 60a) cites the verse in Tehillim (119:126), "Eit la'asot la-

Hashem heifeiru Toratekha" (understood as, "When it is time to act for God, abrogate your law"),

to justify the lifting of the prohibition against writing Torah be'al peh. As the generations weakened

in their retention of an oral tradition, writing it down was sanctioned. Does the same repeal apply

to the complementary issur of converting bikhtav into be'al peh? See Tosafot (Bava Kama 3b, s.v.

30
Ki-de-metargem), who suggest that it does, despite the fact that the gemara never explicitly applies

the verse to our prohibition.

A famous story is recounted that Rav Elchanan Wasserman Hy"d visited Rav Mosheh Soloveitchik

zt"l (the father of the Rav zt"l) in Warsaw and asked him why the Rambam did not list the

prohibition of transcribing Torah she-be'al peh in his Mishneh Torah. (Although the Rambam

discusses it in his introduction, he never addresses it within the halakhic code itself.) Rav Mosheh

did not han answer and asked his young son to consider thquestion. The Rav zt"l responded that

the prohibition is not a formal one, but rather it demands that Torah be transmitted in a manner

which would best facilitate its study. Ideally, an oral transmission should be delivered without

texts because people are more vigilant and precise regarding a text which is unwritten. Similarly,

the written Torah should be conveyed bikhtav because many derivations stem from textual nuances

(extra letters and other textual phenomena). However, once social situations demand altering the

original formats of these tracts (to better facilitate study under current conditions), the original

prohibitions no longer apply. The Sages did not have to rescind the biblical prohibition; rather the

prohibition itself is limited in its scope.

If we accept this understanding of the prohibition, we clearly have little room to differentiate

between the two applications and no ability to suggest that the allowance of "Eit la'asot" applies

to one prohibition and not the other. If these native forms are not sacred per se, but merely the

preferred way to study, each would yield to alternate formats were the situation to demand it. As

such, most are of the opinion that in our generation, we are allowed to convert Scriptural texts to

be'al peh format because this will support our learning.

31
 Ancient versus Modern Hebrew Script
It’s known that the ancient Israelites wrote in a totally different script of Hebrew than the one used
today. Wouldn’t the earlier one has been the original script of Hebrew – the one the Torah was
given in? If so, how could it have been changed later? On the one hand, we are so concerned that
a Torah scroll be written perfectly, with perfectly-formed letters. But on the other, the letters would
seem to have no sanctity! They are just an adopted script from later on in our history!

The Aish Rabbi Replies:14

It’s a very important issue. You are quite right that ancient Hebrew was written in a completely
different script from modern. This ancient script is known as Ktav Ivri or the Paleo-Hebrew
alphabet. It resembles the Phoenician alphabet of the time. The modern one is known as Ktav
Ashurit – literally, the Assyrian script. It closely resembles the ancient Aramaic alphabet and
became adopted by the Jews shortly after they were exiled to Babylonia after the destruction of
the First Temple. The two alphabets have identical letters and bear some resemblance but are quite
distinct.

All of the older archeological finds of written Hebrew were in this ancient script, while from
around the 5th century BCE, with the return of many Jews from Persia, the newer script became
common. Even at that point Ktav Ivri still continued to be used. Coins have been discovered from
as late as the Bar Kokhba rebellion (132-36 CE) with Ktav Ivri inscriptions.

All of this begs the question you raised. Does this mean the script of the Torah itself changed? If
the “proper” and original script of Hebrew is Ktav Ivri, how could later generations begin using a
different script, changing the form of the Torah itself?

14
https://www.aish.com/atr/Ancient-versus-Modern-Hebrew-Script.html

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The Talmud (Sanhedrin 21b-22a) addresses this issue and explains that it was done through Divine
sanction. In Deut. 17: 18, the Torah instructs that a Jewish king must write for himself a “copy of
the Torah” (mishnei hatorah) which can equally be translated “a changed Torah.” From this the
Sages saw an allusion to the fact that the text of the Torah scroll would eventually change.

Likewise, the Book of Ezra (4:7) refers to a letter the Jews of Israel wrote to the Persian king
Artachshasta (Artaxerxes) in a “changed script” – written in Aramaic with Aramaic characters.
From this the Sages likewise deduce that the script of the Jews had officially changed (to the
Assyrian script, nearly identical to the Aramaic).

In fact, as the Talmud points out, this is perhaps the reason why shortly beforehand, when the
famous “writing on the wall” appeared in Belshazzar’s palace on the fateful night of his
death (Daniel 5), no one was able to interpret it, although no doubt many Jews were present. The
message was written in Assyrian Hebrew, which not even the Jews could make out – until Daniel
interpreted it with Divine inspiration. This was the point in time in which God officially sanctioned
that Hebrew would now be written in a different script.

The Talmud there records a further debate if Hebrew began in the Paleo-Hebraic script and
changed to the Assyrian, or if it began as Assyrian, changed to Paleo-Hebraic, and then changed
back in Ezra’s time. As the Talmud and commentators explain, the Assyrian script is the ideal and
more sacred one, but when Israel became sinful during the First Temple period, they were no
longer worthy of it and began writing in the cruder Paleo-Hebraic script. Only in the time of the
great scribe Ezra where they worthy of the preferred one again.

A third opinion in the Talmud holds that the script never changed – meaning, that although Paleo-
Hebrew was in common use among the people, the higher script was always used for sacred
purposes. (In fact, there are those who explain that all opinions agree the Ten Commandments and
possibly the original Torah of Moses were written in the Assyrian script.15 This is as the
Talmud (Megillah 2b) points out that the letters samech and final-mem were miraculously
suspended in the tablets (the writing of which cut through the entire stone). This would hold true
for those letters only if the Ten Commandments were written in the Assyrian script.)

I should add finally that in truth the whole issue is not really problematic since by letter of law, a
Torah may be written in Greek (and according to one opinion in any language) (our daf). Thus,
the change from one script of Hebrew to another was not technically forbidden – although clearly
Ezra would not have taken it upon himself to institute so drastic a change without the Torah’s
approval (Rashba and Ritva to Megillah 2b).

15
Ritva Megillah 2b s.v. ‘v’tisbira’, Shu”t Radbaz 3:442, see also HaMikra v’ha’Mesorah by R. Reuven Margoliot

33
Henry Albert Fischel writes:16

The nature and extent of the knowledge of Greek and Latin on the part of the rabbis are subjects
of scholarly controversy, differing opinions even being based on the same data, since they lend
themselves to several interpretations.

Such data are the Greek quotations in Talmud and Midrash, rabbinical knowledge of Greco-
Roman institutions, written historical sources, archaeology, epigraphy, and certain changes in
the Hebrew language. The problem is compounded by fluid historical situations prevailing in late
antiquity, such as the varying policy of Rome as the protagonist of Hellenism in the Near East and
the degree of native assertion which, in Jewish Palestine, led to sporadic condemnations (Meg. 9a)
and supposed prohibitions of Greek.

Among these, those after 66 C.E. (TJ Shab. 1:6, 3c) and during the "War of Quietus" (116 C.E.;
Sot. 9:14, etc. – a prohibition of the use of Greek, which itself employed the Greek
loanword polemos for "war"!) are probably real. However the ruling against the use of Greek in
65 B.C.E. because of an incident at the siege of Jerusalem, as cited in the Talmud (Sot. 49b; cf.
Jos., Ant., 14:25–8) is probably legendary (although E. Wiesenberg argues that it was probably
historical).

The Tosefta (Av. Zar. 1:20) and Menaḥot 99b (c. 90 C.E. and before 135 C.E.) discourage the
study of Greek wisdom. This very repetition of anti-Greek measures, however, and some
endorsements (Yad. 4:6; TJ, Sanh. 10:1, 28a; Rabbi in: Sot. 49b; Meg. 1:8) and positive
evaluations of Greek (Esth. R. 4:12; Gen. R. 16:4, 36:8) indicate the temporariness or
ineffectiveness of prohibitions.

The Talmud tries to harmonize these contradictions by declaring that Greek was permissible for
foreign contacts only (Sot. 49b, et. al.) or as a social asset for girls (TJ, Sot. 9:16, 24c). Use of
liturgical Greek is indicated in the Jerusalem Talmud (Sot. 7:1, 21b), possibly in Sotah 49b
(Rabbi), et al.; and a sort of public or official instruction is reflected in the metaphorical "500"
students of Greek of *Simeon b. Gamaliel II , c. 140 C.E. (Sot. 49b).

Occasionally Greek wisdom is distinguished from Greek language but seems to be identical with
it in the Hasmonean War report of Sot. 49b, etc. It may signify "sophistry" (Graetz) or the

16
https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/rabbinical-knowledge-of-greek-and-latin-languages

34
"rhetorical art" as preparation for administrators but hardly a full ephebic or philosophical-
scientific education. Opinions as to rabbinic Greek thus differ widely: bilingualism or trilingualism
(Hebrew, Aramaic, Greek), even a Palestinian version of the general Hellenistic vernacular (koin)
and a Judeo-Greek have been surmised, in opposition, for example, to the view that the midrashic
use of Greek stances is merely a device to impress non-understanding audiences!

There is, however, complete unanimity that Latin was little known (cf. Git. 80a, et al.), Greek
being for nearly a millennium the language of Macedonian, Roman, and Byzantine administrations
and many semi-independent cities in Palestine (332 B.C.E.–636 C.E.) and of importance even in
Parthia. Moreover, "Latin" loanwords in Hebrew (dux, matrona, Caesar, "legion," "family," a.o.)
were often loanwords already in the Greek from which they had been borrowed. Estimates as to
the ratio of Greek to Latin loanwords in rabbinic literature have been as high as one hundred to
one.

In view of this deadlock of opinions, the problem under review must be examined through fresh
approaches.

Languages in Contact

Insufficient use has been made so far of the discipline of modern linguistics in solving this task.
Both Aramaic and Hebrew of this period underwent transformation not only in lexicography – c.
3,000 Greco-Roman loanwords – (which is generally acknowledged) but also in phonology (e.g.,
the gradual weakening of laryngeals in some localities, cf. Meg. 24b; Ber. 32a; Er. 53b; cf. E.Y.
Kutscher, in: JSS, 10 (1965), 21–51); in syntax (especially the dissolution of the construct case
into a prepositional phrase); the frequency of an absolute nominative before conditional clauses
(cf. M.H. Segal, Grammar of Mishnaic Hebrew (1927, repr. 1958), 213–4) resembling the Greek
genitive absolute.

According to Bendavid (see below) certain usages of the Palestinian sages indicate quasi-
mechanical transfer from the Greek and can be found in phraseology (e.g., Heb. lashon ha-ra,
Gr. kakoglossia, "evil tongue"); in semantics (Heb. batlan, "scholar," and Gr. scholastikos both
allude to "leisure"; Heb. yishuv, Gr. oikoumene, "habitation"); change of gender (biblical makkel,
"staff," becomes feminine after Greek bakteria and rhabdos); the increase of reflexive verbs; and
new properties of the prepositions. The verb, according to linguists the most conservative element
in language, was affected by a new tense system, notably a precise present tense and compound
tenses (with auxiliary verb), and the creation of Hebraized roots from the Greek, among them such
important verbs as ḳ-l-s, "praise"; k-r-z, "proclaim"; h-g-n, "be proper"; p-y-s, "pacify" and "cast
lots"; ṭ-g-n, "fry"; ṭ-k(ḳ)-s, "arrange"; s-m-n, "signify"; ḳ-ṭ-r-g, "accuse"; and p-r-s-m, "publicize."

The loanwords cover all aspects of life but are especially prominent in certain areas of material
civilization (architecture, agriculture, fashion, commerce, and technology) and public life
(government, taxation, law, and warfare). Apart from the salient keywords of Greco-Roman
civilization, such as "circus," "theater," "stadium," "hippodrome," "column," "icon," "colony,"
"metropolis," "triumph," "emperor," "senator," "tyranny," "pedagogue," and "philosopher," even
indispensable terms of daily life are loanwords, such as "air," "sandal," "tome," "collar," "sum,"

35
"salary," "mint," "nausea," "diarrhea," "character," "person," "type," et al. (all preceding English
examples being approximately identical with the Greco-Hebraic terms).

Even proper names of rabbis are affected: Alexander, Antigonus, Boethus, Dosa, Pa(p)pus,
Symmachus, Tarphon, etc., alongside basic religious terms: Sanhedrin, bimah, afikoman, "angel"
(Targum), kairos, "mystery," "blasphemy," et al. (Of course thousands of other Greco-Roman
terms in modern Hebrew have been added in the modern technological era.) The orthography of
actual Greek words and of loanwords is fairly systematic (though difficult to date and subject to
error in scribal tradition and reveals Greek language change, e.g., the Greek upsilon in certain
diphthongs is already given as v (or f) as in Byzantine and modern Greek (Selevcus for Seleucus,
avto- for auto-). All these observations, however, do not yet give any information regarding the
rabbinic knowledge of written Greek sources, especially since Krauss's views of the derivation
(see below) of certain loanwords from Homeric or rare Greek poetry have not been generally
accepted.

Greek as an Intercultural Representative Prestige Language

This was especially true of public display, including inscriptions in the Temple (even its ritual
objects, cf. Shek. 3:2), and on synagogues, epitaphs, etc. Some of the Greek in Palestinian
cemeteries may belong here and may not be diaspora Greek. To claim that all rabbis were excluded
from this vast sector of public life through ignorance or hostility is manifestly absurd. It has been
assumed, however, that the opposition to Greek was strongest among some popular preachers who
continued earlier Zealot attitudes (see below, Avi-Yonah, 71).

Greek as Professional Expertise

There is much justification for the claim that Jewish mercenaries, slaves, tax collectors, and certain
artisans, e.g., sculptors for idolatrous customers, and the rulers, courtiers, and diplomats of
the Hasmoneans and Herodians had to resort to Greek because of their social-economic functions.
It seems that the tannaim and many leading Palestinian amoraim, as well as their Pharisaic
predecessors, belong to a group of "technocrat" experts who could administer, legislate, interpret,
edit law and literature, theologize, moralize, and console – precisely the abilities and functions of
their Greco-Roman counterparts, the rhetorician-scholar-bureaucrats, from Cicero to Seneca (once
practically vice-emperor), from Dio Chrysostom to Plutarch (a priest-magistrate). The rabbis'
idealization of the Sage – the characteristic ideology of hellenized bureaucracies – their popular
ethics and their uses of Hellenic myth, literary forms, and *hermeneutics , their academic
institutions, and efforts at preserving tradition, suggest knowledge of their Greco-Roman
colleagues.

The presence of schools of law, philosophy, and exegesis in and near Palestine (Ashkelon, Beirut,
Caesarea, Gederah, Gaza), the Roman administrative center in Caesarea, and wandering rhetors
must have furthered the spread of "professional" Greek. True, most of the grecianized talmudic
data could stem from audio-transmission of rhetorics, the expertise of Greco-Roman bureaucracy.
Yet Greco-Hebrew legal terminology (diatheke, hypotheke, epitropos, k(o)inonia, cf. Prosbul,
etc.), some talmudic science, and rabbinic use of isopsephy ( *Gematria ) are more technical than
the usual orations.

36
Actual Greek halakhic documents (e.g., a marriage contract) and numerous Greek translations of
Hebrew literature indicate some measure of literary experience. (Not for all the latter could the aid
of proselytes be claimed. In any case, the semilegendary portrayals of the translator *Aquilas , a
proselyte *Elisha b. Avuyah , the "heretic," and *Meir , a reputed descendant of proselytes, may
belong to periods of native reassertion when it had become unthinkable that rabbis were fluent in
Greek.) Moreover, the insistence on oral transmission may occasionally have been merely a
literary pose in conformity with a general trend toward cynicism in rhetoric (cf. Diogenes Laertius,
6:2, 48). At this stage of history, Jewish tradition and its agents were probably highly literate and
literacy-minded. The Greek knowledge of the Hillelite dynasty to *Rabbi , 200 C.E., and beyond
of Joshua, Meir, and *Abbahu , must have been considerable, as their use of Hellenistic materials
and disciplines, their friendliness toward Greek, and their contacts with the Roman government
indicate. In later centuries, however, the increasing impoverishment of Palestine and the
accompanying alienation from Christianized Rome may have modified this situation.

Comparative Studies of Other Hellenizing Cultures would further illustrate Judean

situations: Cato the Elder, the Roman arch-conservative speaking excellent Greek; Roman senators
outlawing Greek rhetoric; a similar mass of loanwords even within societies resisting Greek, such
as the Western Roman Empire, the Syrian Church, and native Armenia and Egypt; and slaves,
proselytes, and uprooted populations spreading the knowledge of Greek (in Judea: after the
Maccabean wars, cf. E.E. Urbach's discussion of the "Canaanite slave," in: Zion 25 (1960), 141–
89, Heb.).

All in all, the scarcity and ambiguity of talmudic sources and the problematics of the historical
data do not lend themselves to generalizations. What type of "rabbi," for example, is mentioned in
the Greek Leontius memorial of Bet She'arim (Frey, 1006). Did the rabbis debate with Christians
in Aramaic or Greek? When they declared Greek as "suitable" for poetry and Latin for war (Est.
R. 4:12), did they thereby evaluate languages or merely characterize these cultures in general? Do
halakhic statements on Homeric books presuppose their intimate knowledge (TJ, Sanh. 10:1, 28a;
Yad. 4:6)? Perhaps the true question is not whether the rabbis knew Greek slightly or in depth
(even the rhetors used various aid books), but whether they knew it adequately for their purpose.
Only additional finds, such as actual Greek literature or more Greek halakhic documents, will
throw further light on these problems.

Bibliography
Frey, Corpus; S. Lieberman, Greek in Jewish Palestine (1942); idem, Hellenism in Jewish Palestine (19622); M. Avi-Yonah, Bi-
Ymei Roma u-Bizantyon (19623), 67ff.; S. Krauss, Griechische und lateinische Lehnwoerter im Talmud, Midrasch und
Targum (1898–99) (to be used with reservation: see G. Zuntz, in: JSS, 1 (1956), 129–40; cf. however, H. Rosén, in: JSS, 8 (1963),
56–72); E. Wiesenberg: in: HUCA, 27 (1956), 213–33; A. Sperber, ibid., 12–13 (1937–38), 103–274; M. Schwabe,
in: Sefer Zikkaron le-Asher Gulak veli-Shemu'el Klein (1942), 187–200; idem, in: Eshkolot, 1 (1954), 73–85; A. Halevi, in: Tarbiz,
29 (1960), 47–55; 31 (1962), 157–69, 264–80; A. Bendavid, Leshon Mikra u-Leshon Ḥakhamim (19672), 111–8, 135–52, 183–90;
H.A. Fischel, in: Semicentennial Volume of the Middle West Branch of the American Oriental Society (1969), 59–88; J.N.
Sevenster, Do You Know Greek? (1968).

37
 Is the Torah’s Text Accurate?17

Overview: In this article we discuss various elements of the Hebrew Bible’s text. It’s original
script, the rabbinic invention of Safrut, the amendments made to it, the scribal errors, and the
general reliability of the traditional Masoretic text versus the Septuagint, the Samaritan text,
and the Dead Sea Scrolls.

There’s a common misconception among many religious Jews that the Torah’s text as we have it
today is a word-for-word text of a Torah that God gave Moses to write.[i] They understand this to
be the basis for the Halachic mandate to write a perfect Torah scroll using a specific Hebrew script.
But this is wrong on many levels. Moses didn’t write the whole Torah as explained here. Also the
Hebrew script that we have today is an invention from much after Moses’ times. In fact, many of
the vowels in the Hebrew script are of a later invention, as we shall soon see. It is also a
misconception because the ancient rabbis themselves speak of amendments made to the Torah
text, as we shall explain. This is all besides for the fact that there has been more than one Torah

17
https://jewishbelief.com/

38
version in the past. Granted all of this, why should we have faith in the biblical text? In this article,
we will answer this key issue to faith in Judaism.

The ancient Hebrew scripts

There is ample evidence that the original Hebrew script was not the one we have today. Like all
languages, Hebrew went through an evolution in the shape of its letters of the Alphabet (or in the
case of Hebrew, the aleph bet). The Hebrew alphabet we have to today is known as Phonetic-
Hebrew, whereas the original Hebrew is called paleo-Hebrew. The Jews adapted the Hebrew script
we have today from the Assyrian/Aramaic script after leaving their exile in Babylon in the 5th-
century B.C.E. During the Second Temple era, we see both scripts being used in Israel and Judea.
The Talmud recognizes the fact that the Hebrew we have today isn’t the same as it always was and
addresses the issue in Sanhedrin 21b among other places. Essentially, there is a three-way dispute.
The first opinion is as we said. The Torah was originally given in the ancient Hebrew language,
known as ksav ivri in Talmudic terms, and in the times of Ezra the Jews adapted the modern
Hebrew script known as ksav ashuris in Talmudic terms. The second opinion is that the Torah is
that the script was always the script as we have it now. And the third opinion is that the Torah was
given in the script we have now but afterwards it was forgotten, and they began writing in the
ancient Hebrew script. In the times of Ezra, they reinstituted the modern Hebrew script.

Archaeology confirms the first opinion over and over again. The third opinion seems unfitting and
baseless to begin with. Some suggest that the ancient Hebrew script was used for mundane
documents and the Hebrew script as we have it now was used for holy documents as the Torah.
But this theory is very unlikely for several reasons. First off, there’s no reason to say this novel
idea that isn’t attested to anywhere in ancient documents in Israel. Secondly, as far as archaeology
is concerned, the modern Hebrew script wasn’t invented until several centuries after the giving of
the Torah at Sinai. Third of all, many scrolls were found that imply otherwise. These Second

39
Temple era scrolls are written in modern Hebrew alphabet or in Greek but when they come to
writing the Name of God, they replace it with the ancient Hebrew script. This is the very opposite
of what this theory is suggesting. It is rather clear that the strict laws in the writing of a Torah that
we have today (known as safrut) was the invention of post-Second-Temple era rabbis, as we shall
now discuss.[1]

Evolution of Hebrew script

Rabbinic invention of safrut

What comes out of all this, is that the strict rules for the writing of the Torah scroll (known
as safrut) are all rabbinic ordinances implemented for the sake of preserving Torah. Some will
think that these laws are actually from Moses at Sinai, but there are many issues to saying that. We
have all the issues mentioned above. In addition to all of those issues, there’s also a clear Mishna
that demonstrated the rabbinic hand involved in the laws of safrut. Megillah 8b describes which
languages the sages permitted the scrolls to be written in. This makes it obvious that the sages had
the power to do so since Moses at Sinai didn’t give any restrictions on how to write the Torah.
On the same note, we can assume that the tagim and taamim (crowns and tunes) of the Torah are
also rabbinic. See Encyclopedia Talmudit on “taamim” for an argument between many early post-

40
Talmudic rabbis on this very question whether or not the taamim (as well as tagim perhaps) are of
Sinaic origins. From a reasonable point of view, it seems that there’s more credibility to the opinion
that it is not of Sinaic origins but rather a creation of later rabbinic scholars. This is because the
whole idea of reading from the Torah Scroll in the synagogue every few days was a rabbinic
enactment of Ezra’s time at the onset of the Second Temple—see Talmud Bava Kamma 82a.
Therefore guidelines and disqualifications of these Torah scrolls were issued as well. (Moses’
enactment mentioned in Bava kamma 82a was also that everybody should read/learn from the
Torah every three days, but it seems that it was not limited to the reading of a specific type of scroll
as was by Ezra. It should be noted that the Synagogue wasn’t established until much later than
Moses’ times.) In addition, since Moses didn’t write the entire Torah, he couldn’t have made
the taamim and tagim for the (entire) Torah scroll.

The rabbinic laws of safrut, requiring professional scribes to write the Torah in a specific script
with no mistakes whatsoever, have helped preserve Torah’s precise text until this very day.

Scriptural amendments

The text of Torah has been edited in many different ways. Besides for the additional verses added
by later scribes (see here), there was also amendments done to the entire Torah, specifically in its
spelling. The rabbinic sages speak of a tikunei sofrim¸ or “corrections of the scribes,” in various
different places.[ii] According to many, there are 18 instances in which this “scribal correction” is
applied to.[2] For various reasons, the early stages (probably the anshei kneses hagedolah[iii]) have
edited the text, being that the text wasn’t standardized as it is today. For a more in-depth discussion
of this topic, see here.
Besides for these “scribal corrections” mentioned sporadically in rabbinic literature, there are also
the spelling amendments. In modern Hebrew, the letters vov and yud often serve as vowels. The
Hebrew script lacks vowels, and the only exception is the vov and yud. But these two letters

41
haven’t always existed as vowels. Archaeology has shown that the before the 8th century BCE, the
letters vov and yud have not been used as vowels.[iv] But our Torah scroll today does have those
letters as vowels many times. This is because the sages and scribes have made changes to the Torah
as the Hebrew script and spelling have changed. (This concept is called malei and chaser in
Talmudic terminology.)[v]

Scribal errors

When texts are preserved from generation to generation, copied from scroll to scroll, naturally
there will be many mistakes in the text. The Torah’s text is no exception to this phenomenon.
When God gave the Torah to human beings, He expected there to be the inevitable human error.
This doesn’t invalidate the entire text; it just shows that there are potential mistakes every here-
and-there in the text. There’s also the philosophical argument that if God wanted us to keep His
Torah and Mitzvos, then He wouldn’t allow for major scribal error to the point that the Torah text
is no longer reliable. Additionally, from the fact that we see that God is judging us and giving us
the consequences for disobeying His Covenant (see here), shows that we are expected to keep the
Covenant and the Law that we have in front of us. Also, despite all the textual differences between
various version of the Torah, as we shall soon see, there are no significant variations that would
alter the Torah Law on a practical level. The reason for this, perhaps, is the extra caution the Jews
would take to preserve their sacred texts. This would minimize the textual error compared to other,
more mundane documents.

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How do we know there are scribal errors?

In the Torah version that we have today, known as the traditional Masoretic text, there are nine
disagreements of the spelling of certain words, although they are trivial spelling variations.[3] But
once we go earlier back in time, the spelling variations and alternative texts begin to be more
drastic and frequent.

There are various obvious spelling mistakes, specifically in the Prophets and Writings (which were
probably less preserved having been less sacred to the scribes).[4] The Midrash speaks of three
Torah scrolls that Ezra the Scribe had in front of him, each with a different spellings of various
words. He decided to follow the majority over the minority and would take the spelling of the two
scrolls versus the one.[vi] Avot DeRabeinu Nosson speaks of Ezra the Scribe placing dots on top of
the words “lanu ulvaneinu” (Deut. 29:28) since he wasn’t sure of the proper writing for those
words.[vii]

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A very puzzling passage in the Babylonian Talmud states that according to the “first scholars,”
called soferim (“Scribes”), the middle letter in the Torah is a particular letter in Leviticus
11:42 and the middle pair of words appears in Leviticus 10:16. However, in the texts used today,
the middle letter appears 4830 letters earlier, in Leviticus 8:28, and the middle words appear 933
words earlier, in Lev. 8:15.[viii] There have been numerous far-fetched attempts to explain this
discrepancy between the Talmud and the MT. Unless the tradition of the “first scholars” is based
on erroneous calculations, it seems to imply that they were referring to a text of the Torah that was
either of a different length than today’s text or had the pertinent passages in Leviticus in a different
order than they are today.

There are a few places in Torah where the text seems to be missing some words that were originally
there. For example, in Genesis 4:8, when Cain talks to Abel, the Masoretic version reads, “Now
Cain said to his brother Abel, while they were in the field, Cain attacked his brother Abel and
killed him,” – with no description of what Cain said to his brother Abel. It is worth noting that the
Samaritan Torah contains additional words: “Now Cain said to his brother Abel, ‘Let’s go out
to the field.’”
There are also many different version of the Torah and we cannot just say that the traditional
Masoretic text is by default the proper text in all instances. There is the Septuagint, the Samaritan
Torah, the Dead Sea Scrolls Torah, and even within the traditional Masoretic text, there are minor
variations. Many rishonim (medieval rabbinic scholars) recognized this reality of scribal error in
our Torah text.[ix]

Jews today have what is called the Masoretic text of the Torah. But earlier versions of the Torah
exist. For example there is the ancient Septuagint, a Greek translation of the Bible, that differs
from the Masoretic text. There’s also the Dead Sea Scrolls that differ from both versions. And then

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of course there’s the Smartian version, still used by the Samaritan community today, that
drastically differs from the other versions.

The Dead Sea Scrolls

The Dead Sea Scrolls were found in the Judean desert in 1947 and the following years to come.
Among the treasure-drove of artifacts and scrolls dating back more than 2,000 years ago, an almost
complete Torah scroll was found. The scrolls were thoroughly inspected having been perhaps the
greatest archeological discovery of the 20th-century. The version of the Torah’s text found in this
oldest Torah scroll ever found shed new light on the preservation of the Torah’s text by the Jewish
community.

The Dead Sea Scrolls’ Torah was found to be 95% similar to the Masoretic version we have today.
The differences were primarily spelling variations and obvious pen-slips. It is clear that the scribe
of the Dead Sea Scrolls’ Torah was a sloppy one. He made many spelling mistakes obvious to the
Hebrew reader. Those spelling mistakes and variations account for the vast-majority of the 5%
text difference.[x] There were no practical differences to Judaism as we have it today if we were to
accept the Dead Sea Scrolls Torah version. But as explained, the Dead Sea Scrolls’ documents are
highly unreliable, having many obvious sloppy mistakes. In addition, the singular set of fragments
found at the site is of no reliability when faced against the Torah’s text as preserved by
the entire Jewish community for over 2,000 years.

Despite the small differences between the Masoretic version and the Dead Sea Scrolls’ version,
the latter attests to the overwhelming accurate preservation of the Masoretic text by the Jewish
community at large.

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Septuagint (see tomorrow’s daf for more on this)

The Septuagint is a Greek translation of the Bible dated to sometime between 2,400 years ago and
2,100 years ago. Ancient sources attribute the translation to a group of rabbis whom the Ptolemy
of Egypt asked to translate the Torah for his vast library.[xi] Although written in Greek, the
Septuagint sheds light on the Hebrew Torah it was translated from. It appears to have quite a
number of differences from the traditional Masoretic text.

Many people are generous with their credit to the Septuagint, pointing to its old origins. They will
favor its version of the Torah over the traditional Masoretic text. This is especially so in the
Christian community being that the New Testament is mostly quoting out of that Greek version of
the Bible. But as we shall point out, the ancient origins of the manuscript hardly give it as much
credit as is commonly given to it by proponents of the Septuagint manuscript.

Even with this prestigious ancient origin of the Septuagint, the document is hardly as reliable as
one might think. First off, the original copies of the translation are long gone and the version we
have now is a copy of a copy of a copy of the original translation.

The preservation of the Septuagint was confined to a limited number of scribes and librarians.
Given these conditions, it is easy to imagine the scribal corruption of the text over the years. There
was no accountability. The Masoretic text, on the other hand, had full transparency to the entire
Jewish community worldwide and in fact was read from in the synagogue every week.[5] With
access to so many people, it is hard to imagine that the Masoretic text could have too many
intentional or unintentional mistakes. This is especially so given the strict rules implemented in
the scribal process of writing the Torah as explained earlier.
To top it all off, the Dead Sea Scrolls version of the Torah is far more identical to the Masoretic
text than it is to the Septuagint.

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Samaritan Torah

The Samaritans are a tiny community dwelling in the north of Israel for over 2,500 years. They
are discussed as being adversaries of the Jews coming from Babylon after the Babylonian
exile.[6] Their origins are debatable but they are rejected by world Jewry as being authentic Jews
as they claim they are. Their ancient community still has a Torah, but a Torah that largely diverts
from all other versions of the Torah.
The vast majority of historians and bible scholars reject the credibility of this corrupt Samaritan
version of the Torah. And they reject it for good reasons.

Their version of the Torah differs drastically from the other versions. They have different spelling,
different words, and additional verses placing significance to their holy site at Mt. Gerizim in
Shechem.

Given their small population, both currently and historically, it is hard to give their Torah’s version
much credibility. As explained, with a small population there isn’t much accountability and scribal
errors, and intentional corruption are easy. All it would take for them, is one scribe-meeting to
decide to change the text to fit their religious preferences and ideologies. And no one in their small
community would stop them. Compare that with the hundreds of Jewish communities worldwide,
all using the same text, with strict scribal rules, all coming out with the same Torah version after
2,000 years of separation.

In any event, if God wanted us to keep his Torah properly, it is hard to imagine that he would let
only a small group of self-claiming Jews to have the real version while giving the vast majority of
the Jewish community a corrupted version of the Torah.

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 "Banning Greek: A Rabbinic History"

Amram Tropper writes:18

18
Journal for the Study of Judaism 49 (2018) 1-34

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Art by Sefira Ross,

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 Daniel Sperber’s Greek in Talmudic Palestine19

Yair Furstenberg writes:20

How much Greek in Jewish Palestine? Were Samuel Krauss to address the question titling Saul
Lieberman’s seminal essay of half a century ago, we could expect in reply a most precise datum:
2370. Krauss compiled the dictionary for Greek and Latin loanwords in rabbinic literature
(Griechische und Lateinische Lehnwörter im Talmud, Midrasch und Targum) published during
the last years of the 19th century, and this is the number of Greek entries in this work (if we are to
believe those who counted). However, this enormous number, which supposedly signifies the
scope of Greek knowledge in rabbinic circles, would certainly not satisfy Lieberman.

Besides the fact that the Lehnwörter was most fervently criticized early on by linguists and
classicists, who rejected a substantial share of its etymologies (between 30-50%) and valued it
only as a comprehensive collection of the relevant passages, Lieberman’s major concern in
identifying these foreign words laid elsewhere, beyond the realm of lexicography. In the above-
mentioned essay, as in his earlier books Greek in Jewish Palestine and Hellenism in Jewish
Palestine, he sought not only to identify within rabbinic literature traces of Greek presence, but to
map out the types of rabbinic encounters with this culture and the intensity of the exposure. Thus
he claims, for example, that whereas philosophical terminology is completely absent from
Talmudic literature, which befits the rabbis’ complete disinterest in foreign wisdom, issues such
as law, government, and rhetoric are well represented in rabbinic vocabulary.

In the last few decades, contemporary scholarship moved even farther away from the lexicographic
endeavor, as it shifted from a philological paradigm in which related words serve as signifiers of
sporadic cultural interaction to a broader cultural paradigm that seeks to identify shared structures
of thought within the common Greco-Roman environment. From this perspective, even if spoken
in the most Rabbinic Hebrew, Talmudic laws, narratives, and anecdotes may sound to some like
Greek. However, paradoxically, the evolution of new broader scholarly approaches has only
reinforced the need for a clearer exposition of the actual contexts and agents (including people,
words, and institutions) through which such cultural exchange took place. Due to the
incompleteness of earlier projects, some fundamental questions have yet to be systematically
addressed: How “Greek” is each of the rabbinic compilations? Can we identify different trends or
stages in the exposure to Greek language and culture? How should we account for the broader use
of Greek in later sources? Did Christianity play a role in the distribution of Greek language and

19
Daniel Sperber, Greek in Talmudic Palestine, Ramat Gan: Bar Ilan University, 2012
20
https://thetalmud.blog/2012/06/03/daniel-sperbers-greek-in-talmudic-palestine-review-by-yair-furstenberg/

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ideas in Palestine? How does the rabbinic exposure to Greek compare with that of other Aramaic
and Syriac speaking groups in the eastern Mediterranean?

In his latest book, Daniel Sperber contributes to this endeavor by laying out some of the main
findings of his two esteemed masters, Krauss, and Lieberman, and by commenting on the
challenges which, in his eyes, their works hold for future scholarship. Thus, in the first part, “Greek
and Latin Words in Rabbinic Literature: Prolegomena to a New Dictionary of Classical Words in
Rabbinic Literaute” (a reprint of two of his articles from the seventies), Sperber surveys the
problems and methodological concerns which await the compilation of an improved dictionary,
more than a century after Krauss.

In the second part, “Rabbinic Knowledge of Greek in Talmudic Palestine”, he readdresses the
fundamental question posed by Lieberman: “How much knowledge (and we may add, and of
what nature) of the world which surrounded them did the builders of Rabbinic Judaism
possess?”. To that end, he adds to Lieberman’s exposition some further examples of his own,
relating to regional differences, knowledge of pagan ritual, rabbinic acquaintance with Roman
legal and military terminology, and the use of Greek in magical texts.

Those who follow Sperber’s work will identify his examples from the many publications
he contributed on the issue of Greek in rabbinic literature during the last three decades. Most
prominent of these are his books, in which he not only offered solutions to textual cruxes by
deciphering the Greek or Latin etymologies, but in which he sought to classify all foreign terms
according to subject matters: A Dictionary of Greek and Latin in the Mishna, Talmud and
Midrashic Literature (1984); Nautica Talmudica (1986); Material Culture in Eretz Israel (1993,
2006); Magic and Folklore in Rabbinic Literature (1996). In a way this is the most conspicuous
of Sperber’s contributions, in which he dismantled the over-whelming question of Greek in
Rabbinic literature into manageable, specific contexts and fields of practice.

The current book is of a different nature, and its purpose is more modest. It advances Sperbers
general scholarly approach, which incidentally is largely based on that of Liebermen. However, in
the margins, the unique and extremely important aspect of Sperber’s contribution does emerge in
this latest book as well. Thus for example, to the list of more than 280 new words which he adds
to Krauss’s dictionary (thanks to his elaborate use of critical editions and sophisticated assessment
of manuscripts variants) he appended a subject index, which “highlights to us that in certain socio-
cultural areas there was a greater penetration of Greek terms… administration, army, and
weaponry… employment, occupations, and professions… building, tools or utensils” (p. 81).

But as the examples in the book demonstrate, the issue at hand is not only in what fields were the
rabbis exposed to Greek, but the nature of their proficiency. Thus, the most enjoyable examples
are those which not only incorporate Greek terminology but cunningly manipulate the languages
through wordplays and puns. It takes an expert to identify those, today as well as back then.
Therefore, although we are not surprised to find R. Abbahu in third century Caesarea proving his
competence in Greek with a clever wordplay, it is no less than astonishing to find it in other,

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unexpected contexts. Such is the following case, my personal favorite, (discussed on p. 136) taking
us back to the presumably ancient mishnah, which records the halahkhic dispute between the
Pharisees and Sadducees (m. Yad. 4:6):

As Sperber points out, quoting Chaim Rosen, there is much more to the comparison of texts
(Scripture/Homer) to bones (High Priest/ass) than the halakhic issue of impurity: behind the word
“‫“[ ”עצמות חמור‬the bones of an ass”] there lies a Greek expression referring to Homeric poetry itself
– an expression which has been doctored in a “cacophonistic” manner for the sake of derision and
disparagement – “aismat homerou” – viz. “the songs of Homer”. And we can only thank the
Pharisees for purifying these bones and songs, reluctantly admitting the enduring influence of
Greek language and culture.

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