What is the Ketuba?

The word “Ketuba” means “document”. The Ketuba, in the strict sense of the word, is not a contract between husband and wife. It is a document that records the obligations of the husband towards his wife while married, and the provisions to ensure the economic well-being of the wife if the marriage is dissolved, or if the husband dies. In this sense, the Ketuba is more like a prenup or a “marriage insurance” where the beneficiary is the wife and the benefactor is the husband. The obligations of the wife towards her husband are not registered in the Ketuba. For this reason, the Ketuba is signed by two witnesses and by the husband, and it does not require the wife’s signature.

Now that we understand the essence of the Ketuba, we will explore it in detail.

The text of the Ketuba is divided into three parts, today we will see the first part.

DATE, PLACE, NAMES.

The Ketuba records in the first place all the basic information of the couple: the wedding date, the city and the state where the wedding is held, and the names of the bride and the groom.

If we would write the Ketuba today in Jerusalem, the first part of the Ketuba would say: “On the fourth day of the week (Wednesday), at 30 days of the month of Sivan, which is the first day of Rosh Hodesh Tammuz, in the year 5775 from the creation of the world, in the city of Jerusalem …. ”

Then, the Ketuba records the names of the bride and the groom. First, the groom’s name followed by his father’s name, for example, YOSEF BEN YAAQOB (Yosef son of Yaaqob), and then the family name. In the Ketuba we also record if the groom is Cohen o Levi.

Then we write the name of the bride and her father’s name and family name, clarifying whether he is Cohen or Levi.

In addition, especially outside Israel, the names are written also in the vernacular. For example, if the groom’s Hebrew name is YOSEF but everyone calls him “Joey”, in the Ketuba it will be written YOSEF DEMITQARE JOEY, i.e., “Yosef, also known as Joey”.

The names of the bride, the groom and their parents have to be written with extreme care. The rabbi who writes the Ketuba needs to know not only how to write the Hebrew names correctly but also, how to write the non-Hebrew names with Hebrew letters, which sometimes is difficult, because not all consonants or diphthongs in English have their exact correspondence in Hebrew (how do you write”Joey” in Hebrew letters?).

In the Ketuba we also write the marital status of the bride. If the bride is single the Ketuba would say “betulta”, unmarried (lit. virgin). In some communities, they simply write “kalata” which means “bride”. If the bride is a widow or a divorcee, the Ketuba would say “meterakhta” or “armelata” ,”divorced” or “widow”, in Aramaic, the language of the Ketuba.

The Talet under the Hupa

Immediately after the ceremony of the giving of the ring (qiddushin) the groom wears a Talit (a prayer shawl). The custom is to use a new Talit, usually given to the groom by the bride. If it is still daylight time, the groom should recite two blessings: lehit’atef betsitsit and Sheheheyanu. If it’s already nighttime, he would recite only one blessing: Sheheheyanu.

According to rabbi Obadia Yosef, if the Hupa takes place during the day, the groom wears the Talit in the same way he wears it every morning: first, covering his head with it (‘atifa) and then, placing it on his shoulder. If the wedding takes place during the night, then the groom does not need to cover himself with the Talit.

After that, and in both cases, the talit is placed over (or “on”, depending on the custom ) the heads of the groom and the bride (Yalqut Yosef p. 136).

Before wearing the Talit, the groom pronounces the blessing Sheheheyanu. This is a blessing of praise to HaShem for the privilege of being able to live a particular new happy occasion. When the groom says this blessing for his new Talit, he has to bear in mind that he is also giving gratitude to HaShem for the merit of his new wife, his new home, etc.

Why does the groom use a Talit during the Hupa?

Rabbi Obadia Yosef mentions many reasons (and pesuqim, see Yalqut Yosef p. 132). One of them is that the Tora mentions the Mitsva of Tsitsit, next to the Mitvsa of marriage ( Debarim 22:12, marriage; 22:13, Tsitsit). It is interesting to notice that, because of this reason, whereas in Sephardic and German Jewish communities it is customary that a Jewish boy wears the Talit once he becomes Bar-Mitzva (or even before), in Eastern European Jewish communities it is customary for the Jewish man to begin wearing the Talit only after he gets married.

In his book “Made in Heaven” Rabbi Aryeh Kaplan mentions a very original reason. He explains that the Talit is given to the groom by the bride as a token of reciprocity for receiving a ring from him. “Just as the wedding ring symbolizes that she is bound to him, to the exclusion of all other men, the Talit symbolizes that he is bound to her, to the exclusion of all other women” .

After the groom wears the Talit and recites Sheheheyanu, the Ketuba is read.

Tomorrow, BH, we will begin to explain what a Ketuba is.

The ring

Previously, we explained that the Jewish wedding consists of two steps: Qiddushin and Hupa, which today are integrated into one single ceremony.

We will begin by describing the Qiddushin.

THE RABBI: There could be many Rabbis invited to participate of the wedding, but the bride and groom should appoint one Rabbi to be the mesadder qiddushin, the Rabbi who would preside over the ceremony. This Rabbi will be responsible for the order of the wedding and for all the legal aspects of the wedding. Among other things: 1. Verifying previous to the marriage the Jewishness of the bride and the groom. 2. Preparing and writing the Ketuba. 3. Appointing or approving the witnesses (this will be explained later on). etc. The Rabbi mesadder qiddushin recites the first two blessings, known as “birkat irusin”.

BIRKAT IRUSIN: Holding a cup of wine in his hand the rabbi would say first: “Bore Peri haGefen” (Blessed are You, HaShem, the Creator of the product of the vineyard). The main Mitsva of the wedding ceremony is “happiness”, i.e., to make the groom and his bride happy. Wine represents happiness, as it says in Tehilim (Psalms 104) “and wine would make man’s heart happy” (see video below for another original explanation). The second berakha says: meqaddesh amo Israel ‘al yede hupa bekiddushin. “Blessed are You HaShem, our God, Who consecrate us with His commandments … and allowed us to be married by the Hupa with the Qiddushin”, which is a blessing by which we praise HaShem for establishing in His Tora the institution of marriage, for the sake of preserving our morality and the sanctity of the Jewish family.

After reciting these two blessings, the Rabbi drinks from the wine, gives the cup of wine to the groom, and after the groom tastes the wine, the cup is given to the bride’s mother and she gives it to her daughter. One of the reasons that the mother, and not the groom, brings the cup to the bride, is that at this moment (the betrothal/qiddushin) the bride is still more “the daughter of her parents” than “the wife of her husband”.

THE RING: Once the Rabbi who presides the wedding pronounces the first two blessings, the ceremony of qiddushin takes place. The consecration of the bride is done by the means of a qinyan, a legal process by which the bride and the groom are officially engaged. Technically, this qinyan could be done in a different ways. For example, by the groom giving the bride a document (shetar) that states his intention to betroth her in accordance to Jewish Law. Alternatively, it could be done by the groom giving to the bride anything of a minimal value. However, in most communities the custom in our days is that the qinyan qiddushin is performed by giving a ring, he wedding band, to the bride (to the best of my knowledge, the only exception is the Syrian community in NY, where the qiddushin many times is done with a silver coin instead of a ring).
The ring to be used at the qiddushin should be plain without any stones or accessories. The ring needs to belong to the groom. This is the reason why he Rabbi would normally ask the groom about the ownership of the ring, making sure that the ring belongs to the groom, and he has not giving it yet to the bride, etc.
During the ceremony there is no exchange of rings between the bride and the groom. It is only the groom who gives a ring to the bride. The groom consecrates the bride as his wife, and the bride consecrates herself to the groom. Exchanging rings at the ceremony would be an imitation of a gentile ceremony. In many communities, however, the groom would wear his ring, if he wishes to do so, before the Hupa begins.

The ancient origins of the Jewish wedding ceremony

Maimonides explains that the institution of marriage is a Biblical innovation (MT Hilkhot Ishut 1:1). Before the Tora was given to the Jewish people, he says, a man would find a woman, bring her to his home and they would live together and bring children without any public commitment or formal ceremony. Also, since in ancient times there was no institution of marriage there was no formal process of divorce. If one of them wished to leave the family, he or she could do so at any moment.

The Tora established the Mitsva of marriage: when a man and a woman wish to live together, first, they should get married . This is learned from the Pasuq in Debarim 22:13 “When a man takes (=marries) a woman …” .

Jewish marriage is a ceremony of a public nature and therefore it requires the presence of two witnesses. It is also an accepted standard that, in normal circumstances, the wedding will be held in the presence of at least a Minyan, ten adult men.

The wedding consists of two steps: qiddushin (or irusin) and hupa (or nisuin). The first one, qiddushin is the formal and legal betrothal or engagement (not to be confused with the proposal/engagement we do today). The qiddushin is done mainly to seal the formal commitment to getting married. The qiddushin is performed by a legal process called qinyan (lit. acquisition) . The standard custom today is doing this qinyan by giving a ring to the bride. Although, in some Syrian communities, following a very ancient custom, the groom gives the bride a silver coin instead of a ring. When the groom gives the ring to the bride, he consecrates her saying: “Behold, you are consecrated to me (to be my wife ), with this ring, according to the law of Moshe and Israel”. Upon receiving the ring, the two are formally engaged. However, the couple still cannot live together. They will be considered formally married only after the Hupa.

It is very important to mention that in Talmudic and pre-Talmudic times, this first step of the wedding, or qiddushin, was celebrated usually one year before the actual wedding ceremony or Hupa took place. During that year between the qiddushin and the Hupa the couple was formally engaged but not married. They would still live each in his or her parents home. Still, the woman was considered me-orasa or formally betrothed. Thus, if the couple decided to disolve the qiddushin, the process of a formal divorce was required.

The year between the qiddushin and the hupa was consecrated to building the new house, preparing the wedding dresses, the food and everything needed for the Hupa and for the seven-days party which follows the Hupa (sheba berakhot). That year also served to strengthen and build up the relationship between the bride and the groom in the spiritual and emotional realms, in anticipation for their intimate life as husband and wife.

This year period between the qiddushin and the Hupa is not in practice anymore. In our days, the qiddushin is done under the Hupa, as part of the same ceremony. Why? There were many practical issues that demanded this change. For example, the persecutions Jews suffered in exile. Imagine if the groom had to run away to save his life. If that happened, the bride, who was now in a state of betrothed-but-not-married, will not be able to marry to someone else in the future because she needed now a GET, a formal divorce bill, from her groom. Because of this and similar circumstances, we do now the qiddushin and the Hupa at the same time.

Today, the Jewish wedding ceremony consists of the giving of the ring (qiddushin) and the Hupa. These two steps are now completely integrated, and most people would not know or realize that, formally, these are two different ceremonies.

Rabbi Israel Najara (1555-1625) and the Jobar Synagogue

The Jobar Synagogue, Eliyahu haNabi, considered the oldest in the world, was destroyed in May 2014 during the Syrian civil war.

Rabbi Israel Najara ישראל בן משה נאג’ארה was born in Safed, Israel in 1555. At a very early age, his family moved to Damascus, Syria. The family Najara comes from “Nájera”, a small town located in the “Rioja Alta” , Spain, on the river Najerilla.

In Damascus, Rabbi Moshe Najara led the Mishmarot. Among many Syrian Jews, the custom of Mishmarot continues to this day. These are long Tora study sessions held on the eve of Rosh Chodesh and every Shabbat afternoon.

Due to his father’s position, Rabbi Israel Najara did not serve as an active rabbi in Damascus. Instead, he served as Chazan (liturgical cantor) and rabbi (traditionally, in Sephardic communities, these two roles were often held by the same person) of the Jewish community of Jobar (pronounced Dyobar or Djobar), a suburb of Damascus.

The city of Jobar was predominantly Jewish. The historian Shams Ibn Tulun al-Dimashqi, who died in 1546, wrote:
“Jobar is a Jewish village with some Muslim presence.”

Jobar was famous for its synagogue: Eliyahu haNabi. We have a fascinating description of the city and its synagogue from a rabbi and traveler, Rabbi Moshe Basula:

“The city of Jobar is one mile from Damascus. The Jewish community of Jobar has 60 Musta’arabim families (= native Jews belonging to the ancient Syrian community; the term Musta’arabim is typically used in contrast to ‘Sephardim,’ the Jews who came from Spain. Eventually, both communities merged). In the city, there is a beautiful synagogue, unlike anything I’ve ever seen… with six columns on the right side and seven on the left.
The synagogue, called Eliyahu haNabi, was built above a cave. People say this is the cave where Eliyahu haNabi hid [when he fled from King Ahab], and that the synagogue dates back to the time of the prophet Elisha. [At the entrance to the synagogue, halfway up the right wall], there is an irregularly shaped stone, where one can see the imprint of multiple footprints. According to tradition, this is where Elisha anointed Hazael [king of Aram, ancient Syria].
The synagogue was restored by Rabbi El’azar ben Arach. People told me that many miracles took place in this synagogue. During times of persecution, the Jews would gather there to find refuge from their enemies.”

Rabbi Israel Najara became very famous for his poetry. He wrote hundreds of religious poems known as piyutim (we know of 346), mainly focused on the suffering of the Jewish people and the yearning for redemption. His most famous poem is probably Y-ah Ribbon ‘Alam Ve‘Almaya, a liturgical poem written in rabbinic Aramaic, which has been adopted by both Sephardic and Ashkenazi communities. Another well-known composition is the Ketuba for the Festival of Shabuot, a poem read in many Sephardic communities on Shabuot, which compares the covenant between God and Israel to a marriage ceremony.

Rabbi Najara also authored a book titled Mikve Israel, a collection of 40 sermons he delivered in the Jobar synagogue. In these sermons (derashim), Rabbi Najara weaves together profound Talmudic ideas with philosophy and Jewish mysticism. Notably, his father, Rabbi Moshe Najara, was a student of the renowned Mequbbal the Ari z”l haQadosh, who held Rabbi Najara’s poetry in high regard and once said:

“His poetry is greatly cherished in Heaven.”

In his sermons, one can see that philosophical and mystical elements were secondary for Rabbi Najara. His focus was on Musar — the ethical and moral teachings of the Talmud. Rabbi Najara aimed to teach and inspire people to improve themselves and refine their character. He often emphasized the importance of tsedaqa (charity), mutual financial support, and gemilut jasadim (acts of kindness not necessarily involving money), such as visiting the sick, comforting mourners, and more.

In the final years of his life, after the death of his father, Rabbi Najara moved to the city of Gaza, in Israel. He served as the rabbi of the Jewish community in Gaza until his passing in 1625, and he is buried there. Upon his death, his son, Moshe, succeeded him in this position.

To obtain the book Mikve Israel, click here

TEHILIM # 14: Men without God

Pasuq 1. Of David. The fool says in his heart, “There is no God.” They are corrupt, their actions are vile; no one of them does

good.

King David describes a society with no-God. He calls a man who denies God, and acts upon it, “nabal”, a corrupt person. The rabbis of the Talmud coined an expression which captures the sentiment of those who behave as if there is no God לית דין ולית דיין, “There is no judgement, there is no judge.” In other words, any wrongdoing is fine, unless you are caught. But, if we are not caught by the law enforcers, or by those who are stronger or wilder than you, then you should not worry about any “Divine” punishment in this world or in the next life. Because there is “divine impunity”, no one judges your life, and probably there is no next-life to worry about… This “nabal” has followers who see him as their leader. The followers have no independent thinking. And because no-God leads to corruption, among this group of people, corruption becomes epidemic.

Pasuq 2 HaShem looks down from heaven on all of them to see if there is anyone who understands, anyone who seeks God.

Now King David says that HaShem watches over these men. Waits to see if among all the corrupt people he could find one exception, someone with the courage to think differently. Someone who might not be certain about his faith in God, but instead of acting wickedly, he is still searching for the truth, trying to find out if there is God.

Pasuq 3 All have turned away, all have become corrupt; there is no one who does good, not even one.

But the divine search finds no one. There are no men among that group looking for God. The influence of the “nabal” is too strong. And people are comfortable when someone thinks for them.

Pasuq 4 Do all these evildoers know nothing? They consume my people as though eating bread; they never call on the Lord.

Who are these corrupt people? Those who deny God’s existence? For some commentators, these people are the enemies of Israel, idol-worshipers who deny God. The idea that this Psalm refers to the enemies of Israel is based on the words “They devour (=destroy) my people, as though eating bread”. For other commentators, King David is referring to fellow jews, who have become corrupt because they have lost their faith in HaShem (or vice versa). King David says that their actions are destructive to the rest of Am Israel, i.e., they consume (harm, destroy) our people as though they consume food.

Pasuq 5-6

But they will be overwhelmed with dread, for God is in the circle of the righteous. You, evildoers, devise plans to trick the poor, but HaShem is their refuge.

King David foresees that in the end, the evil-doers will get their punishment from the God they deny. They try to trick the poor, the innocent, but HaShem will be helping them, protecting them against their enemies or against those who abuse them. Hashem has multiple ways of punishing the wicked.

7 The salvation of Israel will come out of Zion. When the Lord restores his people, Jacob will rejoice and Israel will be glad

HaShem will be always next to His people. Even after defeat,eventually, He will return to Zion and restore His people’s happiness.

One thought that comes to mind, when we analyze the “atheist turning corrupt” is what did really come first, corruption of disbelief in God? In other words, do people behave dishonestly because they do not believe in God? Or, perhaps people first behave dishonestly, and then, to justify they behavior and excuse their wrongdoings, they stop believing in God. If your believe in God does not stop you from behaving bad, it will kill you with feelings of guilt, therefore, if you are going to behave bad, you will be better off without God…. It seems that disbelief in God might be the consequence, and not just the reason for corruption.

TEHILIM # 13: Turning despair into optimism

אנה ה ‘תשכחני נצח

עד אנא תסתיר פניך ממני

עד אנה אשית עצות בנפשי יגון בלבבי יומם

עד אנה ירום אויבי עלי

13: 2 How long, O HaShem, will you forget me? How long will You hide Your face from me?

David HaMelekh, King David, begins this Psalm with what appears to be a complaint to HaShem… There are different opinions as to the circumstances in which this Mizmor was composed. Some rabbis, based on references in this Mizmor to the enemies of David, say that this Mizmor was composed when he was behind enemy lines, surrounded by Gentile adversaries and escaping from the Jews who wanted to kill him in Jerusalem. His situation was desperate, and he did not see any possible solution

13: 3. How long will I struggle with my thoughts [to convince myself that you have not abandoned me], and [for how long] will I suffer this pain in my heart? For how long will my enemies triumph over me?

Beyond its material problems, David HaMelekh suffered from a mental anguish, because perhaps for the first time in his life, he felt that HaShem had abandoned him. David’s feeling can be best understood when we think about something similar that happened to our forefather Yaaqob. When Yaaqob faced Esav he said that he was afraid (כי ירא אנכי אותו). Our sages wondered, how could it be that Yaaqob felt afraid of being abandoned by God, since God had promised to protect Yaaqob? The response of our rabbis was that Yaaqob feared that he may no longer deserve the protection of HaShem, because his merits might have been exhausted שמא יגרום החטא … Following this line of thought, perhaps King David did not doubt the goodness of HaShem, rather, he doubted if still deserved the help of HaShem.

13: 4. Pay attention to me, and answer me, Hashem, my God. Give light to my eyes, lest I sleep unto death.

According to other opinions, and based on this pasuq (verse), King David was very ill, thinking that his end was near and that he will fall “asleep into death”. It is noteworthy that David never doubted the existence of God. And that’s why he prayed and pleaded God to pay attention to him.

13: 5. Do not let my enemies declare: “We have won”, and rejoice when I collapse.

The commentaries explain that in this psalm King David’s problems are described from more to less important. From David HaMelekh’s perspective, the most pressing problem was the feeling that HaShem was not listening to him (13, 2). Second, that same thought, conceiving that HaShem had abandoned him, made him feel guilty. He had to fight to overcome those negative thoughts of abandonment (13: 3). And finally, his situation with his enemies. He knew that they would take advantage of these moments of weakness to try to destroy David.

13: 6. But I trust Your goodness [ God]; my heart shall rejoice in Your salvation! I will sing to HaShem [praising] by [all] the kindness that he will grant me.

Now comes the final message of this Psalm. The fundamental lesson that David wanted us to learn. David HaMelekh realizes that HaShem has not abandoned him. He perceives that he was driven by a sense of powerlessness, an emotional and spiritual slump. David HaMelekh regains his confidence in God (Emuna) and states his conviction that, in the end, HaShem will save him. He realizes that HaShem’s goodness is infinite. Therefore, although our merits may seem insufficient, we can still pray and ask for His intervention.

What caused this change in the attitude of David HaMelekh, this powerful transition between despair and optimism? How could one go from a state of despair to a situation of Emuna in HaShem?

What gave David a renewed spiritual strength were his own words, his Tefila (prayer). By approaching God, even with words that originated in anguish and despair, he reestablished the connection with God. And then King David realized that HaShem had never abandoned him, rather, it was David own despair what did not allow him to feel the presence of God.

That is the great power of Tefila. What makes us feel that HaShem is far from us, what make us think that He is not listening to us, is our own pessimism (יאוש) and inaction. But when we turn to God, even out of feelings of anguish and despair, we reestablish contact with Him, which allows us to perceive that He is there, and that He can help us. In this sense, the Tefilla (prayer), should not be seen just as words that express our faith and hope in HaShem. Rather, prayer feeds our faith and hope in HaShem.

TEHILIM # 12: Professional deception

1. Lamenatseah ‘al haSheminit, psalm of David.
Like the majority of the Psalms, this too was composed by David HaMelekh, who suffered, and personally witnessed, the immense damage that unscrupulous people can cause with their words. David was the victim of deceit and lies in his army, in his court and even in his own family.

2. Save us Hashem, for good men have disappeared, righteousness has faded among men.
David asks: What can a good man do? A righteous person who lives in a society in which all lie and cheat? The righteous man does not tolerate lying, his word is sacred. But what remains to be done in a society where falsehood is there to stay? Where everyone around succeeds through deceptions and scams? David HaMelekh fears that there are no more good men, because even the good people have adapted to the “new normal”, to falsehood, if not to succeed, then to survive.

3. Men, tell each other vanities, all speak the language of deception, as if they have two hearts.
The hypocrites have a double heart. On the one hand (with one heart) they might hate a person, but on the other hand (with the other heart) they pretend to love that person. To deceive and eventually achieve some personal gain. Or in the case of the enemies of King David, to praise the King in his presence to gain his trust, and then, when the opportunity presents itself, betray and kill David to inherit his throne.
I also think about the relevance of this Psalm for our contemporary society. I think on the people who thrive by practicing deception and have become professional scammers. Or the immoral but “legal” maneuvers; or the fine print of contracts. I think of promises that are made knowing that will not be fulfilled. I think of journalism sold to the highest bidder. Or in the smoke screens the conspirators build. Cheating is endemic. It seems that human society has built a model designed for preying the naive.

4. HaShem cut off the lips of falsehood, and the tongue practicing arrogance. 5. [God punish] those men who say, “our language will make us powerful, while we speak with our lips, who can defeat us”?
According to King David’s, the only hope of the victims of “legal” lies victims is Divine retribution. David prays to HaShem begging Him to do the justice good men cannot reach. David hopes that somehow, God will expose the lies of the scammers, destroying their working tool: their misused eloquence.

6. “From the abuse of the poor, from the desperate cry of the oppressed, I will arise,” say HaShem, “I will defeat the [scammers] and make them disappear.”
David asks HaShem to punish those who use their lips and tongues to deceive the gullible man. It seems that this kind of moral decay can only be corrected by Divine Intervention. For David HaMelekh, God’s justice will emerge from the depths, from the pain of the victims of deception. From the cry of the abused.

7. HaShem’s words are pure, refined like silver that has been polished seven times. 8. Your HaShem will protect [the righteous from the wicked], thou shall protect [good men] forever. 9. The oppressed will rise [= will emerge from the depth], and the wicked are doomed to spin, [as lost, not knowing where to go].
God has promised justice. He vouched to protect the oppressed. And unlike men, His word, His promises, will always be fulfilled. In this life, or perhaps later, justice will be served. Because He knows the duplicity of the trickster. And He will not allow impunity for the wicked.

Rabbi Tam ibn Yahia (1475-1542) and the fire in Constantinopla

Rabbi Tam ibn Yehia was one of the most important rabbis of his generation. He was born in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1475. In 1496, when the Portuguese Jews had to choose between converting to Christianity or leave the country, Rabbi Tam escaped to the city of Constantinople, today’s Istanbul, Turkey. There, he acted for some time as a member of the rabbinical court of the famous Rabbi Eliyahu Mizrahi (רא”ם). After the death of Rabbi Mizrahi, Rabbi Tam inherited his position and was assigned as the spiritual leader of the Jewish community in Turkey.

Rabbi Tam’s relations with the government of Turkey were excellent. Firstly, because Rabbi Tam was also a renowned physician and became one of the most trusted doctors of the Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent (1494-1566). Second, because Rabbi Tam mastered the Turkish and Arabic languages, and he was an expert in Islamic law [sic]. His son Gedalia ben Tam (Rabbi of Thessaloniki, Greece) wrote in his book of Jewish history Shalshelet haQabbalá “my father’s knowledge of Islamic Law was so great that Muslim judges [= Imams] often consulted with him regarding their decisions. “

At that time, all countries in the Middle East, including Syria, Egypt and Israel, were under the rule of the Ottoman Empire. Being the chief rabbi of Turkey conferred Rabbi Tam the rabbinical authority over all the rabbis of the Middle East. Thus, Rabbi Tam, was permanently consulted not only by individuals but also by his colleagues from across the Middle East, who sought his verdict when there was some debate or discussion among them.

The importance of the prestige of Rab Tam in the court of Suleiman the Magnificent should not be underestimated, also from the political standpoint. Thanks to the excellent relations of Rabbi Tam with the Sultan, all Jewish communities in the Middle East enjoyed the favor of the Sultan and the Ottoman Empire, which often meant the difference between life and death of a Jew , or the destruction or survival of entire Jewish communities.

Rabbi Tam was also a prolific writer. One of his students, Rabbi Binyamin Motal, wrote that Rabbi Tam composed:.. … “The book Ma’ase Nisim, a commentary on the Rif . Al Hanisim, a commentary on the Ran . And he also wrote a very extensive book with the records of all his halakhic rulings. A collection of thousands of Halakhic questions, sent to him from all over the world, and his responses, including his analysis and verdicts. He also wrote tens of thousands of explanations of the Gemara, commentaries on the Tora and the Midrashim, sermons, books on science, etc. “

The reader may wonder, how is it possible that a Rabbi of the stature of rabbi Tam, who was so famous and prolific in his time (in my opinion he was a “Maimonides 16th century”) is so little known in our time?

I think that there are two possible answers to this question: First, that unfortunately most Sephardic rabbis are ignored and unknown. This historical injustice is being reversed and although much remains to be done, gradually the Hakhamim Sephardim are more and better known. The second answer is that, in the particular case of Rabbi Tam ibn Yehia, there was a tragic factor which contributed to pushing his name into oblivion. In 1541 there was a terrible fire in the city of Constantinople. This fire claimed many lives, and consumed virtually all the books of Rabbi Tam ibn Yehia. Such was the pain Rabbi Tam suffered seeing the work of his life consumed by fire, that, according to his students testimony, his death in 1542 was partly due to the sadness and grief he suffered by the loss of his manuscripts.

All what is left to us from the work of Rabbi Tam is a small compilation of some of his comments on the Rif (Derekh Tamim), and a collection of just 213 rabbinical responses (Ahole Tam ) in a book published by his grandson, Don Tam ben Gedalia, in Venice, Italy, 1620.

To download these books click here

PIRQE ABOT 4:22 The afterlife and the library

Yesterday we explained the words of Rabbi Yaaqob: this life is a preparation for the life to come.

Today, we are going to expand a little more on this idea.

In this Mishna, Rabbi Yaaqob says something that seems surprising. He compares our life with life after death and he says that this life is more important than the next.

He says: “It is more valuable a moment of repentance and good deeds in this world, than the entire life of the world to come.”

What did Rabbi Yaaqob mean? The most essential virtue of man, what distinguishes man from the animals and angels, is man’s free will. Man can choose to do good or to do evil, to grow spiritually or to stagnate. To be selfish or altruistic. It is thanks to this “freedom of choice” that we make our moral decisions: Will I or will I not help someone who needs me? Will I or I will not speak ill of so and so? Will I or will I not steal, hurt, heal, apologize, forgive?

Free will is an exclusive prerogative of mortals. In the world to come we do not make moral decisions. There are no poor who needs help, nor sick who needs visitors, not physical people to speak ill of them or conspiring against them. No money to steal, nor the possibility of being faithful or unfaithful, cruel or compassionate.

Rabbi Yaaqob main message to us is that our development and spiritual growth consists in making these moral decisions throughout our life. We are what we have decided to do in our lives. And the better those decisions are, the more our souls grows, and vice versa. Rabbi Ya’aqob also emphasizes the idea of Teshuba, repentance. In the world to come there is no possibility of repentance. Only here, in this life, we can ask forgiveness from God for having violated His will, and only in this life we have the opportunity to apologize to those whom we have offended. In the world to come there is no possibility of change, progress, growth or repentance. That’s why, in this sense, life in this world is incomparably more meaningful than the life in the next world.

Imagine that the world to come is a beautiful library, containing books, only books. The most beautiful books in the world are in this library. In this life, you have the opportunity to learn to read, in any language you want, so when you get to the library you can enjoy the most fabulous works of human literature. But this library has some limitations: there are no audiobooks there and no one to teach you how to read. “Reading” can only be learned before one enters into the library.The example of the library serves also to understand what Rabbi Ya’aqob said regarding the greater importance of this world, compared to the world to come.

Incidentally this illustration also helps us to understand why the Mishna never speaks of paradise or hell, but only of the world to come, as if it was one and the same place for the righteous and for the wicked. Two people come to the library. The first person learned several languages and appreciates a good reading. Now in the library he has access to all the books he wants. He is in paradise! The other person knows a lot about politics and sports, and he is an expert in playing poker and video games. But he is illiterate. He never wanted to invest some time to learn how to read. The two people are in the same place … and yet, they are not in the same place. The literate man is in paradise. The other one, is not.